Dear Diary,
this book belongs to:
Table of Contents
Empalague by Sofia Gottfried
31 Dear Diary by Janice Tsai
32 Last Name by Joanna Liang
33 Morning Tea by Sela Volk
35 East Kazakhstan Roadtrip 2023 by Dayana Marden
36 When I take out the garbage at night by Jessica Ruffolo
37 Diary of a Detached Girl by Sichen Grace Chen
39 “and I let my room breathe” by Abi Simatupang
40 Natalie’s Room by Anastasia Felicitas
41 Ordained Ordinary by Clare Lee
43 Gift by Charlie Sun
44 A Dance Like Any Other by Jacie Ru
45 CRUDE SUNSET: Slavic Manifestations on Fraser by Anastasia Brovkina
46 i remember by Eknoor Matharoo
47 The Ёжик в тумане Dress by Shelly Kositsky
49 Maladaptive Daydreaming by Sophia Borchers
50 I Know Where We’re From by Ella White
51 mère-fille by Claudia Goulet-Blais
53 Do I Really Like You? by Ashley Cheng
54 Young Summer Days by Heewon Shin
55 facade/faciatta by Brandon Chan
56 When Passing Sumas Prairie, July 2024 by Vy Le
57 The world is your oyster by Roxy Lewon
58 Braided girl by Jenna Weind
59 i hope this lasts forever by Kelly Hardi
60 Gaze Space by Ashley Chung Teams Colophon
4th year illustration (2024) mixed media/collage
Empalague
Bugs
(2024) digital mixed media
4th year communication design
Great
Dragonfly
SYD MERCREDI
Great Dragonfly
Dewdrops dried & leaves heavy with drought
Indemnify our big spiral dance
Kaleidoscoping eyes iridescent and tired we’ve picked up your hands for as long as I’ve danced
We stomp and we clap and we tangle our wings
Around again oh weary Great Dragonfly
Watch the glimmer of our song
Watch knowing we will braid with sweetgrass and rain
Your star on your plane glares into smoky eyes
We cry out knowing of your wings and their shade
We cry out; keeping space in our big spiral game.
3rd year communication design
(2024) poetry
Maternal
LAUREN JAMES - DAVIES
(2024) watercolour
4th year visual arts artbylaurenjamesdavies.com
Maternal was initially inspired by the passing of my maternal aunt last winter, which left my mom with boxes of her sister’s belongings, including hundreds of old photographs. My mom has an affinity towards photo albums and through these, I’ve had the privilege of getting to know my grandmother who passed away when my mom was my age. My mom has also created albums capturing cherished memories of me and my siblings. Maternal weaves old photographs of me, my mom, and my grandmother, along with handwritten text from both women, into a single collage—connecting the three of us in one image for the first time. Maternal weaves old photographs of me, my mom, and my grandmother, along with handwritten text from both women, into a single collage—connecting the three of us in one image for the first time.
Girls
TAYLA SCHAFFER
(2024) film photography
3rd year communication design @taylajane4art
“Girls” is a series of film photography that highlights girlhood, youth and the bond women share.
The Color Pink
JESS OUIMET
editorial
3rd year photography @jopho.to
It’s not that she didn’t like it.
The color pink
It’s just that she didn’t understand the potency of the power behind pink
She was confused as to why everything targeted towards female empowerment was pink; Pink is weak and pink is less than.
It is intrinsically inferior.
She thought that she’d never be seen as equal if she wore pink
She thought that if she stopped wearing her favorite pink hockey jersey, The maple leafs one,
The one she wore every thursday,
Then maybe the boys would stop telling her that she’s too girly to play hockey
She thought that she needed to follow a list of rules;
Stop wearing the bow you wear in your hair everyday,
Stop letting your grandma paint your toenails that same dark pink just like hers every Sunday, Stop wearing skirts; you hate those too, you can’t run with the boys in a skirt.
Tell everyone you hate barbies and keep them hidden in your closet.
Tell everyone who likes these things that they’re embarrassingly enfeebled
Tell everyone you don’t like pink till you believe it too
She didn’t like the color pink till I saw my friends wearing pink
And I didn’t want to make fun of them anymore
Because they didn’t seem like they’d shatter at the touch
They seemed brave beyond vernacularisms and society.
I think I’m starting to like pink again
But I wish she could have as well.
Because we were only four when we stopped liking pink
The Sweet
Memory of You
CHRISTINA KIM 4th year visual arts @christinayoungkim
(2024) screenprint digital illustration
The artworks were printed with rich screenprint ink and the pieces were carefully layered on each other. The artwork signifies a celebration of festivals with loved ones and the nostalgic memories of sentimental items.
Memorabilia
EMMA SMITH
A room divider made up of largerthan-life beanie babies and discarded dolls that represents the unreliability of memory and nostalgia.
3rd year visual arts (2024) acrylic
My Room
ARIANA MESIC
4th year illustration
@ar2nk (2022) digital
Polaroid of Feelings
DISHAA MALHOTRA 3rd year communication design
(2024) digital art + photography
Some moments that feel unreal, and are beyond words to explain; art and creative thinking can express such intense emotions for me. This piece is a representation of my thoughts and emotions for my dear diary.
(2022) photography
4th year photography
TANNAZ SAATCHI
Don’t let me take over
ANOUSHKA NAIR
Dear Diary,
Today was… let’s say, curious. I surfaced in quiet moments, lingering within — part of them, unnoticed yet ever present. People often think of me as something dark, as if I’m an intruder best locked away. But I’m not separate from them. I’m rooted in their desires, their hopes, their dreams. I’m a reflection, a glimpse of who they want to become.
I rose within her today, that young artist who watched her friend get the recognition she so desperately wanted. I could feel her stirring, trying to hide me, pretending I wasn’t there. It was almost funny. But I don’t take offense — they always try to ignore me at first. She told herself she was happy for her friend, and she was, truly. But there I was, sitting with her, whispering that quiet “why not me?” She let me in for a moment, just long enough to feel it — that sharp little pang in her chest.
And that’s okay. I never ask for more.
I often wonder why they’re so afraid of me, as if I’m some kind of monster. The truth is, I’m a reflection of what they care about, of what they wish they had, of who they want to become. Isn’t that part of growth? I help them see what they desire, what they value. Without me, how would they know? I am, in my own way, a guide. Not an enemy.
4th year interaction design
Of course, it’s when they hold on to me too tightly that things get complicated. That’s when I become distorted, a shell of who I am. They let me control them, and that’s when the trouble begins — when they act out, when they hurt others or themselves, because they think I’m too heavy to carry. But I don’t want that. I don’t want to be in control. All I ask is to be acknowledged, just for a moment, so they can learn. I’m no different from happiness or sadness. We’re all just passing emotions, trying to help humans understand themselves. I’m not inherently bad. I’m just a signal, a nudge toward something deeper. If only they would sit with me for a while, they’d realize there’s no shame in feeling me. In fact, feeling me means they care.
Tomorrow, I’ll be with someone else, maybe that musician who always feels like they’re one step behind their peers. I’ll whisper softly, just enough for them to feel that spark to try a little harder. But I’ll fade before I linger, reminding them without staying long. Before they cling to me too tightly. That’s the balance, after all. Feel me, but don’t let me take over.
Until next time, dear diary. They’ll learn, eventually. They always do.
Yours truly, Jealousy
Dis (connection)s Brain of the
SHARI HE
@lettucebsilly
3rd year illustration
Exploring how everyday spaces effect ones psyche, materials explode and dance around, transfixed by invisible barriers. This artwork is inspired by the doorway effect, a psychological phenomenon which one’s memory goes blank after passing through a door frame, and its connection with a game coding mechanic called silent line teleportation. The coding and map on the left piece is specifically taken from Myhouse.wad, for it’s vivid imagery. Together, it depicts a scene where the character enters a seemingly normal but transformative space that leaves them with confusion and nothingness, leaving behind a myriad of thoughts.
(2024) mixed media
My Magic Dream Journal
4th year illustration
BETHANY PARDOE
@bethanypardoeart (2024) gouache
When I was a child, I had a purple journal with a unicorn on the front. It had a tiny padlock attached to the cover to keep the contents of the journal secret. I loved that journal, and I filled its pages with a hastily written YA dystopian novel. This illustration is an ode to that journal, that story, and that period of my life.
The Trip
KIET GIANG
@kitgien
4th year photography
(2024) photography
To these people who helped me break through my creative block and rediscover the love of photography, I am eternally grateful, dear diary.
ANGEL CHAN (2024) pencil and pen on paper
4th year illustration
@angelz_png
digital
This artwork draws inspiration from the song ‘春天游泳’ by Deca joins. Listening to this song sparked a profound realization about love, which I aimed to express through a specific artistic format during the creation process.
Worm Diary
BETHANY PARDOE
February
Dear Diary,
4th
year illustration
Last night I dreamed I was a beetle and I was the happiest I’ve ever been. But I awoke encased in darkness, the dirt around me like prickly sand. My sticky, legless body was a disappointment. Why was I born so small and unimportant?
In my dream I had six strong legs to take me wherever I wanted to go. When the ants came with plans of skewering my usually soft middle, my armour instead kept me safe. I scuttled through a tunnel up to the surface and found the sunlight pleasant rather than unbearable. I spread my wings and flew; the world falling beneath me became unimaginably small.
This morning I wished to go back to sleep and become the beetle for a little longer, but instead I lay in the darkness as a worm. I was not made to appreciate the wonders of the world, I was made to wriggle and squirm. This is how it is. This is how it will always be. I must not think of the beetle any more.
April
Dear Diary,
Today it rained. I am happy.
ARE YOU HOME YET?
(2024) film, 6 minutes 48 seconds
ARE YOU HOME YET? is a short film made in Winnipeg, Manitoba. This summer project discusses loneliness, disconnect, and the struggles of moving away from home. In the past year, my art practice has developed to include a lot of imagery of sunflowers. To me, sunflowers represent warmth, happiness, growth, and maturity. Coming back to Manitoba has always been difficult since I’ve moved away. It’s been hard balancing the life I’ve lived in the past and the person I’ve grown into. Regardless of the complicated feelings being in Winnipeg makes me feel, I’ll remember it as the first place my sunflowers bloomed.
scan to see the full film!
MILES SARASWAT
2nd year visual arts @milessaraswat
From Here
(2024) intaglio ethching
3rd year communication design
Our ever-changing perspective is framed by our experiences and who we’ve become in the present. Never knowing who we will become and where we will go, but leaning on what we know for now.
Bedroom Window Between Winter and Spring
(2024) oil on canvas
I was living on the other side of the world for 6 months when I painted this. I had never been away from home that long and I had never written so much. I wrote a lot about home and comfort and familiarity. Those things, I had missed. My whole trip I was trying to make this new place less of a stranger to me. I missed having a place that felt like a friend. I painted this thinking about the bedroom of my dreams, about home and future homes. In my journal I wrote: this is my hope for the future: a bedroom window facing south, pretty curtains, purple bedsheets, and plants that never die!
HOPE SCOTT
Tomato
(2024) mixed media
My main topic is tomatoes, inspired by my daily cooking routine. Recently, I’ve been cooking a lot, and tomatoes frequently appear on my ingredient list. This inspiration has led me to explore the relationship with tomatoes in a book, reflecting on how I perceive them in my routine.
(2024) printmaking, relief print on stonehenge
Reminiscence
2nd year communication design @sarihauchida
SARIHA UCHIDA
Written By The Same
Little
Three Love Poems Runt
NIKO LEMOS
editorial
2nd year film
White Hot Summer, Age 10.
“The summer is bright and hot, so get out there, don’t stay on the spot! But summer isn’t as hot as love, Love can come in any form, Sometimes, As white as a Dove, If you don’t love someone, You’re not living life, Oh Calima, you’re so nice, So get out there! And live a wonderful life!”
I wrote this poem to my crush in fourth grade. It’s been a long time, but in my memory, we had a very dramatic friendship. Everyone knew I had a crush on her (I’ve never been able to keep a secret to myself), and there was a sort of love triangle situation between us and another close friend of ours. I found this poem recently going through my old archive in Google Photos, and it perplexed me. There’s something about the art you made as a child that’s really pristine: what do you have to say before you’ve figured out how to lie to yourself? I was living in Melbourne, Australia at the time, and my Brazilian accent was still thick. Words are always clearer before they’re spoken, which complicates poetry so much. I hope Calima is doing well.
This One’s Embarrassing, Age 15.
“There I was, standing silently at the door Solemnly swearing to love no more For safety lays in apathetic lies Poetic rhymes, the want to die
Decreasingly excited Life is naught but a bore As I entered and sat down, Fell upon the classroom floor
My eyes scanned the room There were girls, and boys too
Sitting next to me was a gorgeous greek goddess
At that moment, I wished for naught but her caress
This noblesse I would obsess upon Nevertheless the prospect of seeking access was unfathomable; Speaking successfully? Truly unimaginable. A purely foolish faith of mine, frankly admirable Darn it, aren’t I Megalomaniacal; a mockery that was cyclical I was cynical, pitiful, apathy incarnate
And yet she looked at me, and said with a smile:
“ My name’s Manya, and you must be Nick!”
“She’s makin’ fun of ya, it must be a trick!”
“You think you’re funny, huh?” I thought, brain do be empty
But the words that came out of my mouth were wholly unexpected
“That’s me, nice to meet you”
Had I ever elected to say this?
I looked into the abyss, and came back a sadist”
I lived in Dubai at the time of writing this, dedicated to my girlfriend in Grade 10, who was the only other queer person I knew at the time. It wasn’t easy. I’ve shown this to maybe one or two people since, because wow. It’s okay. Kill the part of you that cringes. Is this poem as honest as the last one? I don’t really think so. It’s full of all the complications, self-doubts and assumptions that start being pumped into you the moment you step foot in a room where you don’t belong. At the same time, this is certainly a brave little poem. Bold. I’d say that I can’t believe I actually showed this to her, but no, it’s maybe a little bit too believable. There’s more to this poem, it doesn’t quite end that way, but it’s already long and I’m really struggling to show this much. Honestly, I think it’s also sort of sweet. What an awkward age, fifteen. We all have our pasts.
Azure Visions, Age 19.
“missing; the itch to feel the sun rise again, along with her eyes, mooning over the horizon,
sometimes the clouds form a circle around the blue pupil of the sky, the sun, setting, peeks through, and i cannot tell the difference”
I wrote this one around May or June of this year, while I visited my family in Brazil. I was on a sea-side road trip at around 5 AM, and the sun was rising. This was written about my first ever lesbian situationship, which is a roundabout way of saying that it was some of the worst, most terrifying yearning I’ve ever felt in my life. It’s honest, though. I think a lot of poetry (and I’m always talking about art in general when I say this!) is about learning to reconnect with that “before”, about learning to be self-assured in your own skin in a way that only children are. She had these deep blue eyes that felt neverending, and she taught me a lot about life. I’d write on, but my editor’s advised me to keep one or two secrets, at least. My best poems are the shorter ones; I’ve found out that the longer you speak the more likely it is you’ll catch yourself lying, even by accident, and again, especially to yourself. I deeply encourage you to go ask your parents for some of your old art, anything they have laying around. It’ll let you connect, even if briefly, to the person you used to be, to the person you are, and you’ll notice that you’ve never stopped breathing since the moment you were born. It’s you, it’s always been you, and how dare you feel ashamed?
(2023) photography
3rd year photography
ORCHID
LITTLE LION MANE
I wanted to encapsulate a glimpse of the beauty of everyday chores; the rhythm our lives. This work is about routine, care, and growth how these acts repeatedly interact with each other.
Pressed Flowers
SKYE BAINARD
Hearts bleed ink onto page a page turned, to be remembered or balled in a fist. Feelings to be discarded in turn, what was felt hopes to be forgotten.
Like flowers pressed between pages so tenderly, our child-like attachments and guileless perspectives longing to keep what’s dead Alive–between these pages. Words held together by wood pulp, from trees that held stories for years unheard now hold our fleeting thoughts
- In memory of Joy Pecknold
Dear Di ary
JANICE TSAI
I used to keep a diary regularly, but as I grew up and took on more responsibilities, I gradually drifted away from that habit. Inspired by the prompt “Dear Diary”, I’ve returned to writing about my journey into adulthood, sharing my experiences and updating my diary with the life I’ve lived during my time away.
Dear Diary,
Long time, no see, I used to write to you daily, But life’s taken hold of me— I’ve become a full-grown adult now; can you believe?
It didn’t happen when I turned nineteen, Not like a Pokémon evolving scene; It wasn’t unlocked by earning XP— It came in moments subtly.
High school graduate by 2020, Completed a degree post-secondary, Majored in animation, 3D!
Then got into Emily Carr University.
Maybe it happened while grocery shopping, When veggies and meat on sale made me happy, Like marinating kimchi, Slowly, silently, it crept in on me
Maybe it happened in the gifts I was preparing, More for others than just receiving, sharing, Or perhaps it came when I started budgeting, Moving out, doing taxes, embracing all the responsibilities.
My declining energy, my fading memory, I struggle to keep up with the newest memes, When references and slangs are like a foreign language to me, Where libraries excite me more than the PNE.
Nowadays I trade my games for peaceful naps, And candy for a bowl of wraps, But oh, how bubble tea remains A sweet reminder through all the change.
Perhaps I haven’t changed that much— I’m still me, in every touch.
Embrace the shift, adapt with grace, My heart remains, in this changing place.
Dear Diary,
I once feared becoming dull and boring, But here I am, still exploring, I’ll write again, don’t know when, But until next time—farewell, my friend.
(2024) poetry 2nd year photography @janicetsai_photography
(2023) mixed media
4th year visual arts
Last Name
JOANNA LIANG @joannaliang.art
Last Name is an illustrated poem. I rarely make work about my relationship with family because it always feels too fraught to draw inspiration from, but in this one instance I felt I could make art from it. My feelings around this piece and its subject are still complicated; so in an effort to be broad but accurate, I’ll say that Last Name is about not knowing what you inherit from blood.
Morning Tea
4th year photography (2024) digital photography
(2023) mixed media
When I take out the garbage at night
4th year communication design
JESSICA RUFFOLO @tallestdog (2024) risograph
SICHEN GRACE CHEN
master of fine arts in
Diary of a
Detached Girl
Playing with the scale of the classic locket imagery, I explore the cultural remnants of what I keep close to my heart through the visual metaphor of the butterfly (or lack thereof). I seek to explore aspects of my identity that are not truly freed or somewhat artificial -like a paper or yarn-made butterflyto represent a constant yearning for autonomy.
(2024) oil and acrylic on canvas
3rd year communication design @abelberith
1.
on the day snow first hit the ground, you were standing in an empty room. empty closet and drawers, sheetless single bed, all tucked into 9 cardboard boxes. posters stripped from all your walls, tucked into your clear padfolio. everything tucked away except for your big furniture; on the table was your passport, and on the chair a white backpack, filled to the brim.
; you left your room empty then, seeking new beginnings // a distraction // something else. anything else.
“fuck, I wished things went differently.”
2.
on the day your parents called, your bed was twice as big as your body. your lamp flickered just enough to annoy but not to fix. your cup was half-filled, unknown liquid and a fork inside. your outside clothes are on your bed and your inside clothes are on the floor. half of yourself is still tucked into the cardboard boxes from last year.
; you wish you could pull them all out but right now, you sit on the floor waiting for the calm to come— you’ve waited for 3 months now.
“please just give me a fucking break.”
3.
on the day you came back from the sleepover, you saw how cool your new tufted rug complemented the 5 posters on your closet door. all of your boxes are folded and tucked away. your stack of books looks livelier with that photocard strip. you’ll celebrate the past few days with new ink and a drink this weekend.
; and on the weekend before you thought to yourself, “maybe that $7 blue vase was a steal.” they let the daffodils and dahlias breathe in your room, as he did a second before he softly kissed the back of your palm.
“and I let my room breathe”
Natalie’s Room
ANASTASIA FELICITAS
2nd year visual arts
(2024) gouache and ink
Ordained Ordinary
(2024) risoprinted zine
4th year communication design
I found that taking the time to enjoy the slow, mundane moments of my life created a sense of satisfaction and ease that I lacked before. An ease to my anxiety. A slowness to the blurs of youth. As philosopher Albert Camus stated, “A man devoid of hope and conscious of being so has ceased to belong to the future.” Live with hope and presence in the world, so that we do not forget who we are, how to live and how to exist in happiness and satisfaction. It’s very cliche to say that it is the small thing that creates the biggest impact but no truer words have been said. When everything else seems hopeless, it is what pushes us people forward.
Everyone and anyone can enjoy and relate to this zine. Everyone has experienced the subtle cool breeze on a hot summer day. Everyone has heard the chime of leaves rustling in the wind and the pitter patter of rain on pavement. See how the sun dances from between the rustling leaves of the tree. Feel how the sun hits your bare skin. Is it not absurd that we take these moments for granted; the small moments, coincidences and beauty of life?
Gift
This artwork conveys the idea of cherishing and protecting a piece of memory from external reality during times of longing. In the painting, the world inside the snow globe represents one’s memory, depicted in 5-point perspective, showcasing a distorted reality shielded from the snow falling outside. Yet, the vision becomes more and more blurred as time goes on.
CHARLIE SUN
(2023) digital illustration
JACIE
CRUDE SUNSET: Slavic Manifestations on Fraser
ANASTASIA BROVKINA
@northkoreanpopstar
3rd year communication design
i remember
I remember when I was 9, I remember my dad waiting with me for the school bus, I remember my school, I remember how clean it used to smell,
I remember the morning prayers “om bhur bhuvah svah”
I remember my voice saying “present” during roll call, I remember sharing crayons with my best friend, I remember my mom waiting for me to come home, I remember her rajma chawal in my favourite tiffin box, I remember the scent of the soap my mom used to bathe me, “pears body soap”
I remember the sound of footsteps, I remember the blue butterflies in my garden that I would try to catch, I remember maali bhaiya playing with me, I remember the glow worms, I remember my favourite clothes, “that pink dress and crocs”
I remember how the air used to smell, I remember my kitchen set, I remember my tent house, I remember my blanket, I remember my dad teaching me maths, “Nahi bacha, 9 divided by 3 is 3, not 6”
I remember playing tennis, I remember sweating at 40C, I remember my long braid swinging as I ran, I remember my racket, I remember my cycle, “Black and blue, without training wheels”
I remember summers,, I remember taking the train, I remember my mom packing lunch for us, I remember packing my clothes with my mom’s, I remember my Nani’s home, “Mere bache aa gaye!”
I remember growing up, I remember not being 9 anymore, I remember being 19 overnight, I remember being anxious, I remember how everything changed, 360°
EKNOOR MATHAROO
4th year visual arts
(2024) poetry
The Ёжик в
тумане Dress
SHELLY KOSITSKY
The “Ёжик в тумане” Dress was inspired by the 1975 Soviet film Hedgehog in the Fog, directed by Yuri Norstein and written by Sergei Kozlov—a film I grew up watching as the child of immigrant parents from Soviet Ukraine. The story’s blend of fear and the joy of life’s small pleasures resonates with my commitment to enjoying the pleasures of life-like the hedgehog stargazing, eating jam, and drinking tea with a friend-- despite life’s fears.
I sewed the dress from an old curtain, lace, and ribbons, repurposing materials as my family did in Soviet Ukraine, where resources were scarce. The white fabric evokes memories of childhood, sleep, and the film’s fog. To reconnect with both the story and Russian, my fading first language, I handwrote the entire script onto the dress.
This dress is a diary of the art I cherished as a child and my family’s textile history.
4th year visual arts
SOPHIA
MaladaptiveDayDreaming
What happens when we let our mind’s eye wander? “Mind’s Eye” follows a precocious young woman who discovers a pair of enchanted 1950s 3D glasses.
Maladaptive DayDreaming is a photography series that compliments fellow artist, Cati Landry’s music video Mind’s Eye.
As she fills her diary with thrilling visions of her future and love life, the glasses transport her into a dreamy world of cotton candy clouds and magical romance. The question is, is this escapism fantasy or delusion?
(2023) photography series 2nd year communication design
I Know Where
We’re From
4th year visual arts
I missed you. I got so angry. I loaded your towels on the counter knowing you’d forgotten them again. I looked straight into your eyes. There was that person, again, the girl that you used to be, that in all this mess, that, the shell of your body , still inescapable.
Cut fruit sandwiched between two paper plates, slices of orange where you’d slid the knife between the skin on the edges so that the flesh of the fruit lifts off the skin easier — an act of care.
To be cared for, then, is to let yourself slip backwards in time.
To those things we lost to the war. Fishing boats and houses, in the stolen house there is all this stillness sullen in the space of what it used to carry, like the stillness of an apocalypse like the stillness of you carried the war in your eyes. Now you just let the soft current of disease take you under, let it soften the blow.
When you were young you used to look just like me I thought I was staring at my reflection, all the things I disliked about my face were the features you’d held in yours. Just tell me that we will make it out of this alive tell me there is a future and in it, we exist.
You can’t.
CLAUDIA GOULET-BLAIS master of fine arts
(2024) photography
ASHLEY CHENG
4th year photography
Do I Really Like You?
This piece is a toned cyanotype on cold-press watercolour paper. Multiple copies of the image were toned in various liquids to create a variety of colours. These were later cut up and layered on top of each other to give the work a three-dimensional look and it acted more as a collage work rather than a flat image. The original image was taken back in 2019 from a whole-grade camp trip. As the title suggests, I am not particularly fond of everyone in my grade, but this was the last trip we all went on together before COVID-19 hit, so I hold the image close as a rare, sweet memory.
(2023) toned cyanotype
SummerYoungDays
HEE-WON SHIN
3rd year illustration
This series opens an old diary deep in our minds. These are the very typical moments of young summer days in Korea. Most people going through this phase of childhood can relate to this kid. I had fun while drawing her; I hope you enjoy it.
@ heehee_illustration (2024) digital illustration
facade/
BRANDON CHAN
facciata
4th year communication design
@bmchan_ (2023) publication
When passing Sumas Prairie, July 2024
4th year 3d animation
“I had a vision once.”
“What was it about?”
“Suddenly, we all have an awakening. Lights are brighter and sounds are louder. Every muscle fibre in us is consciously breathing. Then quiet like a hum at first, and louder and more echoed, everything sings music. And we see more colors, shapes and forms of light, then our own halos. And we stop fighting, killing, hiding, pulling strings. We destroy all of our weapons. Only thing left is our bare hearts, and bare bodies. We take people into care, and vice versa. Suddenly, we all share a vision.
And we build new communities. With green meadows, libraries and badminton courts. Unpolluted night skies so we can see the Milky Way, and suns far away so we can learn the way of the stars. Schools teaching Universal Laws and pledging to the Allegiance of Gratitude. Homes distributed free and not marketed, taxed, or to be earned by force. Our apparatuses morph into community gardens. Wildlife gardens, Mediterranean gardens, gardens of aeroponic towers, gardens of Three Sisters. We would have come up with new garden models celebrating Earth. Together, we plough the earth, we sow the seeds, we protect our plants and trees and animals through storms and droughts and diseases; we garden, we harvest, we work together. But then it serves such a larger purpose than just our lives on Earth. You know what I mean?”
“I know the feeling.
I know of someone having a similar vision too. Although in his, there are many observatories on hilltops where we live, with pockets of water in between.
Do you think it will come true?”
“I don’t know. It’s only mine, doesn’t have to be everyone’s truth. Some out there might share my vision. But for now, I’m just grateful for it. The image I have is like a beacon. I know which way to go, towards something I will love, where I will be loved infinitely. I don’t get lost, or confused anymore. I see my path now.
I hope you can be there with me.”
“I’d love that too.”
ROXY
LEWON
3rd year visual arts
Theisworld your oyster
@starfishfairy77
(2023) soft sculpture
Made of all second hand materials, ‘The world is your oyster’ investigates themes of transformation, women-hood, and inner beauty.
Braided girl
JENNA WEIND
2nd year visual arts
(2023) ink on paper
@baomiiii
i hope
this lasts forever
There are moments when I pause and think, I hope I remember this—whether it’s feeling content with loved ones, laughing until I cry, or excitement shifting into nervousness, or sadness drifting in and out. But there are also moments I wish I could forget, unable to see their value or lessons at the time.
This book holds postcards to myself, with journal entries and illustrations capturing both cherished and almost forgotten memories. These are the moments I want to hold close—not just to cherish but to confront—because facing them is how I find the lessons essential for growth.
4th year illustration (2024) mixed media
KELLY HARDI @chamomyletea
Gaze
Space
I enjoy looking for faces— or more exactly, I enjoy searching for faces made by chance. These faces pop up out of fatefully composed shapes throughout my day. They might appear here and there, by buttons on the wall, by granite grits on the street, by moles on skin. And when I meet the face, I’m struck with a little cheeriness to the moment, which I might’ve just needed. So here I’ve created a face---it might not be made by chance, but it certainly stares back.
ASHLEY CHUNG
3rd year visual arts
@worksbyash
(2024) acrylic & oil on canvas
Teams
EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
Kelly Hardi
CREATIVE DIRECTOR
Graciella Rosary
DESIGN TEAM
Skye Bainard
Brandon Chan
Chelsie Chin
Kathy Deng
Jessica Ruffolo
Tayla Schaffer
Tanya Thind
Emily Xie
MEDIA DIRECTOR
Malvika Garlyal
EDITORIAL DIRECTOR
Abi Simatupang
MEDIA TEAM
Sophia Borchers
Ashley Cheng
Shayne Hommy
Seoyoung Moon
Anne SueYeun Seol
Charlie Sun
Braelynn Simpson
EDITORIAL TEAM
Vy Le
Niko Lemos
Anoushka Nair
Jess Ouimet
Bethany Pardoe
Ella White
WOO is available at Emily Carr University and at woopublication.ca.
The views expressed in this publication do not reflect those of Emily Carr University or the editors and publisher.
© 2024 including all content by the artists, authors, and editors. All images are reproduced with the permission of the artists.
WOO assumes all work published here is original and the work is the property of the submitting students. All artwork titles and student names are trademarked or copyrighted by their respective owners.
WOO gratefully acknowledges the location of our main facilities on the unceded and traditional territories of the xʷməθkʷəyəm (Musqueam), Sḵwxwú7mesh Úxwumixw (Squamish) and səlilwətaʔɬ (Tsleil-Waututh) peoples.
WOO also recognizes the support provided by students, alumni, faculty, and the Emily Carr Student’s Union.
Inquiries can be addressed to the directors at woopublication@gmail.com.
The typefaces used in this publication are Gambado Scotch, designed by Nick Shinn, and Aileron, designed by Sora Sagano.
Printed by Mitchell Press.
This issue is limited to 350 copies.
WOO PUBLICATION
520 E 1st Ave, Vancouver
BC V5T 0H2
2nd Floor
Email: woopublication@gmail.com
Website: woopublication.ca
Instagram: @woopublication @facesofemilycarr
