Yolanda Bruno’s Dear Jeanne Yolanda Bruno INTERVIEW ─ On gut strings, gratitude, and the enduring generosity of Jeanne Lamon Words by Nolan Kehler | Illustration by Dane Thibeault ISSUE 16 | TORONTO | ENSEMBLE Most mornings of the week, I start my day with a cup of coffee, an incandescent lamp in the corner of my radio studio, and Jeanne Lamon. Because of laws regulating the music that we can broadcast (at least 30% of the music in a given time period must be Canadian content, known colloquially as CanCon), we hear a lot of the luminaries that have moulded the national classical music scene over the past three decades. Many of these recordings were made in the 1990s to early 2000s, especially when it comes to recordings of larger ensembles such as the Montreal Symphony Orchestra or the now-defunct CBC orchestras. In an age where large-scale works from the Western classical canon are becoming increasingly less viable in Canada, the recordings made by Jeanne Lamon and her Tafelmusik Baroque Orchestra stand as a rich legacy of performances. That legacy resonates through my studio headphones each morning as I listen to the ensemble’s sensitive and nuanced renditions of the Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos , Marin Marais’ Alcyone , and Vivaldi’s Four Seasons , their warmth welcoming in each sunrise. Over the course of Lamon’s three-decade-plus tenure as the music director of Tafelmusik, the ensemble’s performances in turn imbued her 1759 Santo Serafin violin with its own richness and resonance—a physical archive of the ensemble’s sound and of period-informed performance echoing across centuries. Indeed, Lamon configured the instrument to serve as the most faithful vessel for these sounds, attuned to the sensibilities of musicians whose artistry predated hers by nearly three centuries. After Lamon’s untimely passing in 2021, the Canadian classical music scene was quick to cement her legacy. Many of Tafelmusik’s performances these days take place in Jeanne Lamon Hall, part of the Trinity St. Paul’s United Church complex on Bloor Street West. But what becomes of her musical legacy? In a very literal sense, that has passed into the hands of Yolanda Bruno. With the blessing of Lamon’s partner, cellist Christina Mahler, Lamon’s former student has picked up her Santo Serafin for a tribute called Dear Jeanne . Alongside Mahler, violinist Julia Wedman and longtime Tafelmusik harpsichordist Charlotte Nediger, one gets the sense that even though it’s not a large ensemble recording, the legacy that Lamon built is championed in a superbly humble way by those who knew her and worked with her. L: Yolanda Bruno (by Curtis Perry); R: Jeanne Lamon The listener feels an understated expertise from Bruno and Wedman right from the start with the opening notes of Jean-Marie Leclair’s Sonata for Two Violins in D major, op. 3, no. 6 . At 415Hz (the timbre within which period-informed performances take place, a half-tone lower than modern tuning), there’s a distinct warmth to the opening movement’s simple triads, chords that resonate across the centuries. Everyone is welcomed into the celebration, and every note adds, even the dissonances that give the movement its character. Conversations abound in the allegro, the violins trading phrases that recall the spirited energy Lamon once drew from the Santo Serafin. There is space in the sonata for grief – a brief yet necessary moment of mourning in the – before the performers invite us back into celebration with the final movement. Here, Leclair’s roots as a dancer shine through, and the players perform with a distinctly Canadian energy—almost as though the sounds of Lyon are mixed with a kitchen party. A longtime member of Toronto’s classical music fabric at institutions like the Glenn Gould School and the Toronto Symphony Orchestra, Bruno’s versatility and knowledge shine through on this recording, with ample care given to doing justice to the legacy of her former teacher. She shares a beautiful solo rendition of the largo movement from J.S. Bach’s third violin sonata - perhaps a little extra weight than one might anticipate, but the result is not unpleasant, but rather, insistent. The crown jewel of Dear Jeanne is undoubtedly the ciaccona from Bach’s Partita no. 2 in D minor . An arrangement created by Lamon before her passing, this piece is a supreme example of the utilitarian legacy of the musical arrangements that Bach himself employed in Leipzig for his collegium gatherings. Each member of the ensemble lends themselves wholly to the performance, with special mention to be made of the syncopations brought out by Wedman and the driving nature of Mahler’s cello acting as an engine throughout, grounding and encouraging the other players. Mahler’s drive is also present on the final track, Vivaldi’s “La Follia” trio sonata, with Nediger enhancing the madness of the piece’s nature with dazzling colour, all highlighting the distinct Venetian character that is the Santo Serafin violin. Dear Jeanne is an assurance of the continuation and stewardship of a legacy of sustainability, repertoire and humanity, and will no doubt be an excellent accompaniment to incandescently-lit, warm, coffee-soaked mornings.

Static Channel Static Channel by Talia Ricci The Audio-Visual Collective on Building Immersive Cymatic Landscapes WORDS BY MILES FORRESTER | VALENCIA / ESPOO | MUSIC NOV 14, 2022 | ISSUE 9 Joining smART Magazine from Espoo, Finland, and Valencia, Spain, Monika Hauck and Alex Ricci are the two halves of the performing duo Static Channel. I first experienced them playing shows in makeshift venues across Toronto. Using cymatics (visual representations of sound waves) induced by Alex’s groove-heavy bass, Monika would manipulate and project a swirling vat of pigments, immersing the room in rumbling colour. They are an act a fan can follow, adding new sounds and visual implements to each performance and installation. Over the pandemic, they’ve taken time to develop their upcoming multimedia project Levadas , a meditation over distance, memory, and place. sM | What new forms of expression do you find interesting in this trend towards combining visual art and music in performance? AR ─ I mean, some people even talk about what venues should smell like. The stuff that I’m into is exploring the convergence of these two fields in such a way that it doesn’t even necessarily seem like music anymore; it seems like something that you can’t quite define. One thing that’s really inspired me here [in Valencia] is this festival called Volumens, which a few of my professors are involved in. In particular, Professor Marta Verde had a really cool collaboration with another artist, José Venditti, called Omen . He was playing saxophone over his modular synth music and she was doing modular visuals—affecting it with gestures and video feedback. That element of the human — making little mistakes, little variations, little choices in the moment — I think that’s what other humans want to see in a performance. MH ─ Since we started our project in 2015, there’s been increasing demand for musical artists to have visual components. During the pandemic, seeing how artists and promoters are adapting performances has been really inspiring. Particularly in Toronto, Wavelength Music has been doing variety shows, increasing the potential for audience interaction. Right now, there are so many tools available for artists. It’s also a supersaturated time for people’s attention. There’s higher tolerance for watching performances in alternative formats. By the same token, not every performer can conform to a virtual format. We took our time during the pandemic to focus on other things, thinking about what it means to be in a room with people performing. I’ve always been interested in bringing forward installation elements and thinking about shows more as sharing space and creating an atmosphere, as opposed to a performer-and-audience dynamic.

Kate Lorenz Kate Lorenz by Kalya Ramu Executive Director of Hyde Park Art Center WORDS BY MADELEINE KANE | TORONTO | VISUAL ARTS APR 11, 2023 | ISSUE 6 For Kate Lorenz and her team at Hyde Park Art Center, the transformation that began in 2020 has inspired tremendous generosity. From granting more than $560,000 to emerging artists, to creating accessible online classes–they are seeking to revive Chicago’s art-scene, one project at a time. The Hyde Park Art Center has always been recognized as a welcoming communal space for artists and activists alike. Lorenz joins smART Magazine to discuss her organization’s mission on diversity, inclusion, curation, and their plan for community outreach.

Yuja Wang & the TSO Wang returns to Toronto for a lights out performance of Rachmaninoff’s No.3 WORDS BY MICHAEL ZARATHUS-COOK | TORONTO JUN 19, 2023 | COMMUNITY There’s a writerly trope that Blaise Pascal used to sign off his longer letters with something along the lines of “excuse the length of this letter, I didn’t have time to write a shorter one.” What does this have to do with Sergei Rachmaninoff? Admittedly very little. But this often misattributed quip might help explain the difference between the length of the score Rachmaninoff intended for his Piano Concerto No.3, and the much shorter length of his initial performances of this incredibly verbose and laborious work. And why so verbose? Put yourself in the composers shoes for a moment: your Piano Concerto No.2 was a near-instantaneous hit, the slow movement of which is a miraculously tender elegy so rarely captured within the concerto literature, and you even managed to pull off the gimmick of a church-bell motif right from the outset. How do you follow up on that and get lightning to strike twice? You can’t — a truly infectious melody like that of No.2’s Preghiera is a once-in-a-lifetime hook-up. You’d have to go in a completely different direction altogether and, as Rachmaninoff did, land on an impossibly virtuosic and technically precipitous script for the soloist’s part. Perhaps the composer realised he went too far in this direction and, shuffling from his writing desk into the pianist’s bench, had to scale things back a little.

King Cruff’s Mixology of Reggae and Punk Aesthetics King Cruff - Photo by Neil Watson On his latest EP WHAT HAVE I ‘DON, Bob Marley’s grandson lays the foundation for his own reggae sound Words by Brya Sheridan | Photography by Neil Watson ISSUE 14 | LONDON | HOMEGROWN If you’ve ever seen a peacock show off its iridescent plume, then you have a basic idea of what it’s like to watch King Cruff perform. King Cruff—the stage moniker of Solomon Marley-Spence—has been leveraging a unique mixture of music: reggae punk. Despite being the grandson of the legendary Bob Marley, he’s hell bent on striking his own path forward and leaving his mark behind. Originally from London, Ontario, Cruff’s music relies on the proposition that reggae is not a static form, that it is on a trajectory of evolution and experimentation like any other genre. After moving to Jamaica as a child, Cruff came back at the age of 17 to re-establish his roots in London where he studied at Fanshawe College. Although he never got the chance to meet his iconic grandfather, Cruff believes that Marley the elder would want him to be as different and outlandish as possible─because that’s what Bob Marley was for his generation’s crop of musicians. Reggae concerts are often a blend of good energy, artistic flair, and the occasional soul vaulting off a speaker. Classic reggae has a slow tempo that typically embraces the steady synergy of drums, electric bass, and the electric guitar; it’s the traditional “steppers” beat. This is the starting point that Cruff’s sound riffs off of. In a collaboration with fellow reggae musician Runkus, Cruff released the dancehall track, “FALLBACK”, which was named one of Billboard’ s Reggae/Dancehall Fresh Picks of the Month. And climbing the Top 40 Radio Chart is “PROPPA GHANDA”, one of Cruff’s biggest hits featuring multi-platinum producer and songwriter duo Banx & Ranx. With over 4.3 million global shares and a reputation of radio-ready songs, listeners are resonating with Cruff’s steady beats and tap-along lyrics. Now based in Toronto, Cruff’s artistry relishes influences from Canadian, American, and Jamaican identities. His international profile is being honed with appearances in cultural events such as Toronto’s Caribana, Afro Carib Fest, t he Tuff Gong Takeover in New York, and the LA and Toronto opening nights of the Bob Marley One Love Experience . Earlier in 2024, he made his debut at HISTORY in front of a sold-out crowd opening for Damian Marley and Stephen Marley on their Traffic Jam Tour , shared Jamaican stages with Buju Banton, Julian Marley, YG Marley and Lauryn Hill, and was named the Afro Beats Artiste of the Year at the 2023/24 Essence and Culture Awards. In October, Cruff released his third single, “EASY!”─another collaboration with Banx & Ranx, this avant-garde single strays away from the typical heavier baseline and off-beats found in reggae. Its fast, poppish tempo incorporates elements of electronic dance music─a cocktail of high-energy rhythms, pulsating beats, and synthetic sounds. The music video, videographed through a fisheye lens, features Cruff sporting some snazzy oval eyeglasses and boogying over the mixing console. Cruff’s debut EP, WHAT HAVE I ‘DON was released back in November; in conversation with Cannopy , Cruff pauses to reflect on what he’s trying to do with his own sound. CANNOPY x King Cruff Punk King CAN | Your music style blends elements of hip-hop, dancehall, reggae and funk. What does this fusion offer that one genre alone can’t? KC ─ If there's anything that this fusion offers, it's a different take on all these different genres. Hip-hop was very much influenced by reggae and dub music, so it's kind of like bringing it back to those roots. But also I always feel like the reggae sound needs a bit of a change. We need to prove to people that it's not just the same sound that it's been for the past 20 years. And I feel like with the type of music that I make, this is me pushing the sound forward. CAN | What does the word “punk” mean to you? KC — I think punk, when it comes to music, is always just about going against the norm. The same is true for the type of music that I make. It can be very punkish, but it also can be aggressive and braggadocious. It can also be a bit introspective, reggae certainly has elements of that, but it doesn’t always dive deep. And I want to try and dive as deep as possible when it comes to this music, while also being clever, having that sense of humor, and being relatable as well. CAN | You embody a blend of Canadian, American and Jamaican identities. Do you feel more aligned with one of these backgrounds? KC — No, I don't feel more Canadian or more Jamaican. I think I've just grown up in so many different places. I used to live in the Bahamas at one point. One of the great things about this career is that I've been able to travel to different places and meet so many new people. So at this point in time, while I stand so strongly for my Jamaican roots, and I've had to learn so much Canadian culture since moving up here and embracing that side of me, I'm enjoying being in this place of taking influence from literally all different parts of the world. I have so many different friends from different cultures. And the more I learn, the more I feel like I'm growing as a human being and ultimately a creative. CAN | You recently made your debut at HISTORY in Toronto, in front of a sold-out crowd opening for Damian Marley and Stephen Marley on their Traffic Jam Tour. Why don’t you use “Marley” in your stage name? KC — The impact that name has had on my career is that I feel like it’s given me a bit more of a visualized path of how I want to be. When you come into this world and you’re told that your grandfather is literally a superhero, and you see all the performance clips and you hear all the interviews and people are telling you how great he was. You’re like, damn , I wish I met him. You know, because I wish I would have gotten those lessons in person. But the lessons have been so imparted on the generation that came after him. And then the generation that came after them, my generation, that I almost feel like its impact is just ingrained in me. I don’t feel the need to be like him. I almost feel like Bob would want me to be blazing this path that I'm blazing. Also, my grandma Rita, she loves The Cruff. She’s very supportive. Not using the name is not really a conscious decision or anything like that. As awesome as Solomon Marley would sound, it felt a little too on the nose. I wanted something a little bit more different. I wanted to offer a character. And that’s when I came up with the King Cruff character instead. Canada CAN | In the past year, you’ve been on stages in Canada, the US, and Jamaica. What kind of people typically attend your concerts? KC — I feel like in my earlier years, when I was doing more shows by myself, it was the younger crowds who really enjoyed hip-hop because I was operating out of London, Ontario and the hip-hop scene here. But lately I feel like it's been a mix. I think it's always been young people who are very interested. They feel like their generation is being represented. And I feel like older people come through, this older lady came up and she was like, “when I was younger, I met Bob with my husband and he gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.” And now I get to meet you and I get to give you a hug. I feel like that was a crazy moment, man. Like, I'm probably going to tell that story forever because I think that was the first time I was really impacted with like, oh, this is what my presence means to the people who had experienced Bob. CAN | Your music has garnered over 4.3M combined global streams, what does this number mean to you? Do you think this accurately represents how much people care about your music? KC — I feel like in music, you're always playing the numbers game, right? So you have to pay attention to these things. I try my hardest not to, because I feel like sometimes that drowns out the creative process. Because it's kind of like, are you creating because you want to create? Are you creating because you want to see how many people are listening to you? So it's a blessing. I'm grateful for it. To be honest with you, I don't think I've really taken in that that's the number. It's crazy to hear it every single time. But I don't think numbers are the most important thing to me. As cliche as that sounds. You're just doing it for yourself and, you know, I guess people enjoy it too—which is always great. CAN | Is it easier to appeal to a reggae-oriented audience in Canada rather than America? KC — That's an interesting question. You know what, I'll be honest because I'm self-aware enough to know that I don't think I've been in front of enough American crowds to be able to give you an answer. I think there's a market for it up here in Canada. I just feel like that market isn't tapped into enough. I don't think enough resources are really put into it. I don't think reggae artists in Canada are really put on a super big pedestal. However, when Stephen and Damian Marley come up here, that show is selling out. It's very clear that people love reggae music up here. I think there just needs to be ... I don't know whether it's easier access or more resources put into the genre, but something because the people in Canada want to hear reggae music. Legacy CAN | What message do you hope to convey to young Canadian-Jamaican artists looking to break into the music industry? KC — I think my advice would be to push the sound. I generally think Canadian-Jamaicans are in one of the best positions to do that because there's so many different influences from so many different places because it's such a multicultural country. And I feel like once again, that's what reggae music needs. It needs people who are going to challenge what has been put in front of us while also respecting where we come from.

Soul of Ukraine: Immersive Shevchenko Immersive Shevchenko How Russia's invasion of Ukraine prompted Valeriy Kostyuk to take action through art WORDS BY SHERENE ALMJAWER | VISUAL ARTS MAR 21, 2023 | ISSUE 9 “There are a lot of artists in Ukraine that are doing their part in regards to protecting the national heritage,” Valeriy Kostyuk states. This sentiment reflects the courageous spirit of the Ukrainian people in the face of an invasion that’s put the entire world on alert. As a producer of Immersive Shevchenko , Valeriy, a Ukrainian from Odesa, underscores the severity of the injustice taking place in his country. He is the pioneering producer behind the exhibit that celebrates Ukrainian artist and cultural icon Taras Shevchenko and was instrumental in developing the production to meet the urgent need for humanitarian aid in Ukraine. All proceeds from every ticket to the exhibit will be donated to The Red Cross and other initiatives to provide economic relief to victims of the war in Ukraine. Shevchenko’s career spanned various artforms while simultaneously advocating for his country’s independence on all fronts. Valeriy speaks with smART Magazine about the artist, exhibit, and the nation he inspired.

Greater Toronto Art 2021 Art by Pamila Matharu, Photography Courtesy of MoCA MoCA's take on contemporary art WORDS BY TASH COWLEY | TORONTO | VISUAL ARTS NOV 11, 2022 | ISSUE 7 From September 29, 2021 to January 9, 2022, The Museum of Contemporary Art (MoCA) in Toronto exhibited a survey of diverse artists from around the Greater Toronto Area, working with a plenitude of contemporary or skewed traditional techniques. The exhibit reflected the intersecting identities of the diverse demographics and artists who call Toronto home, especially as the pandemic has put new and ongoing crises in starker relief. In the spirit of solidarity and common-purpose, GTA 2021 represented the city with embroidered (Raina) and projected (Chun) poems, a rusting installation (Siddique), hockey ready-mades (Oluseye), and an excellent documentary about a town’s chrome cow (Anoushahpour, Anoushahpour, & Ferko).

In Praise of the Flâneur : Justin Wong Justin Wong The prolific street photographer reveals perspectives on Toronto, Tokyo, and time Words by Michael Zarathus-Cook | Photography by Justin Wong ISSUE 13 | TORONTO | SPACES On the dying art of wandering ─ “Walkability” is one of those nebulous metrics through which the quality of life in a city is measured, which stands in inverse relation to the degree to which cars and their attending infrastructure dominate public spaces. There’s more to walkability, however, than just the bricks-and-mortars of city planning─an entire ethos must first be cultivated. This ethos, disseminated through the dynamic apparatus of good ol’ arts and culture, is embodied in the aesthetic of the wanderer. The walkability of Paris, for example, is often cited as the final destination of urban planning, and attributed as the sole counterbalance to their citizenry’s enthusiastic diet. But beneath the endless cobs of cobblestone streets is a centuries-old subscription to the belief that public space isn’t merely a functional sphere for running errands, or a noisy background to our quotidian business; it is, can be , a permanent outdoor gallery. To this end, the 19th-century French poet Charles Baudelaire popularized the term flâneur to describe the wandering observer of urban life. Toronto This Baudelairean wanderer was motivated by a “feverish curiosity” and an earnest belief in the limitlessness of a metropolis. From this romantic vantage, the city is an inexhaustible repository of sights, sounds, smells, triumphs, little feuds and barely perceptible miracles—one just had to pay close enough attention. So, what killed the flâneur ? Or, in a broader sense, why is leisurely walking a rare commodity in a city like Toronto? Do we simply need more cobblestones? Yes, please. But the broadest answer to this broad question would be economical: economic mobility remains the biggest barrier to leisure─who has time to walk around after an exhausting 9–5 that’s in reality an 8–6? The loophole here comes by way of those who’ve worked in a fair bit of wandering into their workaday, the few whose job it is to observe urban life through an artistic lens: photographers. If a tree falls in the forest of lives that make up a city, it’s the attentive eyes of the flâneur -photographer that ensure the thud of its impact reverberates beyond the ephemeral moment. Tokyo “Moving postcards”, a relatively new fad on social media, are one way to capture the ephemeral energy of urban life, of time and city. One of Toronto’s most recognizable talents in this sphere is Justin Wong (@justinwongjw). Based in Toronto but rooted in Hong Kong, Wong’s work has gathered an international audience for its mission to transform “ordinary moments into cinematic vignettes.” When not wearing one of his many working hats—social media management, content creation, photography, videography, user-generated content partnerships, website design—Wong finds himself wandering the streets of Toronto, Tokyo, and beyond with a camera in hand. CANNOPY x Justin Wong Justin Wong in Toronto On Time CAN ─ One of the defining features of the Toronto cityscape is the diversity of our seasons. How does each season inspire your curatorial eye? JKW ─ In spring, the vibrant cherry blossoms bring a sense of renewal and beauty, making it a perfect time for capturing fresh, blooming scenes. Summer’s lush greenery and colourful flowers offer dynamic and lively compositions. Autumn’s fiery maple leaves create a warm, nostalgic atmosphere; while winter’s serene, snowy landscapes add a peaceful and sometimes dramatic contrast. These seasonal changes provide endless inspiration and allow me to tell a unique story through my lens. CAN ─ You were in Tokyo this spring and the cherry blossoms were a prevalent feature of your photography. How does it feel to walk the streets of that city during a particularly picturesque time of year? JKW ─ Experiencing Tokyo in the spring, with cherry blossoms in full bloom, is a breathtaking experience. Walking through parks and along streets adorned with cherry trees, there’s a palpable sense of joy and appreciation from both locals and tourists. CAN ─ What does your typical shoot day look like? JKW ─ There isn’t a typical shoot day for me. My gear might vary, but I always carry a compact camera for spontaneous shots. My routine starts early, scouting locations and finding the perfect light. I often immerse myself in the environment, waiting for the right moments to unfold. Flexibility and spontaneity are key. Tokyo On the City CAN ─ When you arrive at a city you’ve never been to before, what is your thought process in capturing the “essence” of a city? JKW ─ When exploring a new city, my focus is on capturing its unique essence by blending architecture and the people. I look for iconic landmarks and cultural elements that tell the city’s story. Observing daily life, I aim to document candid moments that reflect the local spirit. This combination of architectural beauty and human interactions helps convey the true character of the city. CAN ─ What are your favourite neighbourhoods to walk around in Toronto? JKW ─ Queen West, Chinatown, and Kensington Market are my favorite. Each offers a distinct vibe, from artistic street art in Queen West to the vibrant cultural scenes in Chinatown and Kensington Market. CAN ─ How about Tokyo? JKW ─ Shibuya is my favorite neighborhood in Tokyo. It’s vibrant and photogenic both day and night, offering dynamic street scenes and endless photographic opportunities. CAN ─ In what ways is a city similar to a gallery space? JKW ─ A city, much like a gallery, is a curated collection of experiences and stories. Each neighborhood serves as a distinct exhibit, showcasing its own culture, history, and vibe. As you navigate through the streets, you’re essentially walking through an ever-changing gallery where the art is alive and evolving. The architecture, street art, and daily interactions create a dynamic and immersive experience, constantly offering new perspectives. CAN ─ How do people in Toronto, compared to people in Tokyo, tend to react when they're being photographed? JKW ─ People in Tokyo are generally more accustomed to tourists taking photos and are often more accommodating. In contrast, Torontonians tend to be more protective of their privacy, sometimes expressing concern when being photographed. On the Craft CAN ─ What camera do you use? JKW ─ I use the Fujifilm X100V as my daily camera. Over the years, I’ve experimented with various models, but this one’s compact size, versatility, and superb image quality make it perfect for capturing spontaneous moments. CAN ─ What do you tend to listen to when you're walking around? JKW ─ I love listening to pop music and Cantopop.

Why It’s Made: Locke & King PROFILE ─ How a watch brand from Hamilton redefines luxury through local pride, craftsmanship, and cultural geography Words by Samir Jaffer | Photography by Michael Zarathus-Cook ISSUE 16 | HAMILTON | MATERIALS Ryan Moran by Dane Thibeault Finding himself at a professional crossroads brought on by the financial instability that the COVID-19 pandemic wrought in 2020, Ryan Moran took a leap. Inspired by the roll-up-your-sleeves ethos of his hometown of Hamilton, Moran founded Locke & King . Not just a display of Moran’s eye for timeless style, Locke & King is a watchmaking brand that foregrounds a marriage of cultural storytelling and premier craftsmanship which births timepieces worthy of generational upkeep and adoration. As evidenced by their watches, The James and The Ossington , Locke & King prides itself on representing the history of peoples and highlighting the importance of place. The James , named after James Street in Hamilton, Ontario, reflects the working-class roots of the street’s occupants past and present. Directly paying homage to James Street’s historical involvement with railways and varied industry, design features on the watch mirror the “rough around the edges” quality of Hamilton. Simultaneously, The James ’s unpretentiously elegant aesthetic evokes the refined ruggedness of those who endeavored to develop the city and provide for others in their roles as everyday heroes. Ryan Moran in Studio The Ossington , in turn, shares its name with Ossington Avenue, a street in Toronto’s west end, whose main strip has evolved from an industrial stretch to a bustling destination for artists, local craft businesses, nightlife, and more. Ossington Avenue, as it exists now, is a cultural hub that exudes cool, and The Ossington exemplifies that in spades through Locke & King’s interpretation of the Bauhaus style in concert with an intricate guilloche dial that nods to the street’s industrial origins. The playful and harmonious geometry of the shapes that comprise The Ossington ’s design further reflects the value that Ossington Avenue has gleaned from its unique and diverse history, especially as an organically grown part of a city that is under perpetual construction. Like James Street and Ossington Avenue, Locke & King operates in a space that preserves authenticity and does not shy away from its individual identity in a market that can easily feel oversaturated. Despite that oversaturation, Locke & King finds its niche in its concern for leaving a lasting legacy; treating the timepiece as a medium through which to artfully convey a message through material coalescence. By embracing the power of personality and striving for market-leading durability in their watches, Locke & King empowers an essence of local pride in what they set out to produce. With an eye to the future, Locke & King continues to scale toward becoming a larger player in the international watch market as a proud ambassador of Canada, and Hamilton in particular. In keeping with their brand motto, “Onward & Upward”, Locke & King has made massive strides since its founding in 2020 and appears poised to attract a broad audience that appreciate the chance to imbue their fashion with earnest, honourable, and sentimental meaning. ─ Samir Jaffer The James James Street in Hamilton tells the city’s story through every block, every shopfront, every gathering that spills into the street. It has two distinct ends: the north, which historically belonged to Italian and Portuguese communities, and the south, where the city’s hospitals sit and where larger houses reveal the old geography of class. For decades, the steel mills shaped everything here. Management families lived further south, away from the smoke, while workers stayed closer to the industry. That stratification is still visible in the houses today. The real cultural heartbeat of James is its north end. This is where the Art Crawl began in 2007, a monthly ritual where galleries opened late, shops welcomed visitors, and people lingered on sidewalks with wine in hand. It was a spark that transformed the neighbourhood overnight, pulling energy and attention into Hamilton’s downtown. Out of it grew Supercrawl, a massive annual festival each September that shuts the street down entirely and fills it with tens of thousands of people, live music, murals, installations, food stalls, and community. For one weekend, James becomes a pedestrian commons, alive with every layer of Hamilton’s cultural life. Locke St and King St, Hamilton James is defined by contrast and coexistence. You’ll see old Italian and Portuguese social clubs tucked between cafés and new restaurants, Jewish clothing stores holding ground beside barber-bars and design shops. Collective Arts Brewery, born in Hamilton and now nationally known, still carries its roots here by commissioning artists for every can. That mix of immigrant history, creative experimentation, and entrepreneurial spirit gives the street a texture unlike anywhere else in the city. People often compare James to Ossington in Toronto, and the comparison makes sense. Both strips carry that sense of discovery: art galleries next to bars, a little grit alongside ambition. But James hasn’t been entirely priced out yet. It’s still grounded. Families who’ve been here for generations walk the same sidewalks as newcomers setting up studios, shops, and restaurants. That coexistence is delicate. Like Ossington, James faces gentrification pressures as Toronto’s rising costs send people west. But James still belongs to Hamiltonians first, and that’s what keeps it alive. A street can’t sustain itself on day-trippers; it needs the people who walk it every day. Locke & King Offices Walking James is to watch Hamilton negotiating its past and its future in real time. The immigrant-founded businesses are still here, though some close under redevelopment. New creative ventures open in their place, while long-running institutions hold the history. And the street itself has been marked by decades of city planning decisions, some disastrous — like one-way traffic corridors and mid-century malls — that disrupted the fabric. Today, movements are underway to bring two-way streets back, to make the downtown more walkable, to let people stop instead of just driving through. James Street is more than just a commercial strip. It is Hamilton’s cultural artery, carrying the city’s identity and aspirations block by block. It thrives not because of big institutions but because people keep showing up — to crawl, to celebrate, to shop, to live. It’s not polished, but it’s alive. And that, more than anything, is what makes it vital. ─ Ryan Moran The Ossington “Meet me on Ossington” ─ that’s the slogan that rallies the smattering of shops, cafés, and restaurants lining the commercial stretch between Dundas St. and Queen St. What was once a modest strip of mechanics, Portuguese bakeries, and unassuming storefronts has, over the past two decades, transformed into one of Toronto’s most dynamic cultural corridors. In my earliest memory of Ossington, I’m running towards Bellwoods Brewery circa fall 2014, after my date had left her phone on their patio. The phone was still there when I arrived, and Bellwoods too is still there 12 years after first opening its doors. In fact, Bellwoods has grown, taking over property next door — a home decor shop I used to work at — and its Jelly King sour ales have become a Toronto staple. On any given Sunday, weather permitting, the strip is buzzing with an assortment of artists, students, retirees, young parents, academics posing as socialites, fellow broke millennials YOLO-spending, nepo babies posing as penny-pinchers, and influencers posing next to everybody else. It’s the place to be, if you can afford it. The past decade has been one of relentless gentrification, and my gripes are born of watching the more modest businesses and residents get routinely priced out of Ossington as landlords and other culture-vultures cash in on the cool they didn’t contribute to. Yet, there are rarely any villains here: for, at bottom, everyone is struggling against the social inertia that keeps consumers at home and online. In that sense, Ossington is a bit of a miracle, a rare shining example that the brick-and-mortar model still works for retail and service industries in Toronto. It’s the result of small businesses (and sneaky corporate conglomerates) giving the good ol’ college try in the belief that a street isn’t just a collection of buildings. That you really can build a place to be out of thin air (and thick wallets); and, with enough municipal buy-in, you have something verging on a real cultural destination—a place that you can connect to emotionally, a place built to last. In the early 2000s, Ossington was far from the glamorous hyped-hub that it is now. Auto body shops dominated alongside cheap rentals and family-run businesses serving the area’s large Portuguese community. The strip’s affordability and vacancy, however, also made it fertile ground for artists and entrepreneurs originally priced out of Queen West. Bellwoods is the rare example of a business that first benefited from this vacancy and is still whinnying with us today. The Portuguese bakery at Ossington and Argyle Street gave up the ghost during the pandemic; not even the corporate funding behind the eyewear store I used to work at could keep up with the rent; and Superpoint Pizza — the best pizza in the city, I’ll die on this hill — couldn’t survive 2025. Life in the big city. Nevertheless, something truly special persists in the oeuvre of this strip. It’s hard to pinpoint what makes Ozzy special, except that there’s nowhere else like it in Toronto. Last year, after a dearth of not getting even a single interview, I suddenly found myself with three offers from medical schools across the province. Two of these schools could make a good case for leaving Toronto for good, one program even promised to turn you into a doctor in three years instead of four. So I found myself in a real conundrum about what makes the headaches of Toronto worthwhile, and why so many young professionals have been exiting the city since the pandemic. Walking down the strip one Sunday, in the middle of this deliberation, the choice suddenly became clear, and I resolved to the conviction that I should avoid anything that could take me away from my Ossington heart. I’ve got The Ossington on my wrist as I write this at I Deal Coffee & Wine—another spot that’s been on the strip since forever. It’s a beautiful Sunday. Locke & King’s dual mottos — “Upward and Onward” and “Make Your Own Time” ─ feel especially relevant to this time and place. Toronto’s hustle culture is truly breakneck stuff, the constant hurry, the relentless reinvention. It’s easy to forget that the things that make the upward climb worthwhile are not found at the top of wherever it is you’re trying to get to. You really do have to make your own time for the things that matter. You have to find something genuine and real amidst the gentrified layers of wherever it is you’re reading this. — Michael Zarathus-Cook

Maya Hughes Artwork by Maya Hughes Pottery as a Mix of Clay, Monotony, and Spontaneity. WORDS BY EBONI J.D. FREEMAN | MATERIALS NOV 28, 2022 | ISSUE 8 For artist and potter Maya Hughes, pottery as a medium of art is a balancing act between chaos and order. The process can be repetitive, but each creation always reveals its individuality and specialty. Hughes grounds her emotions into the physical world when she shapes clay on a pottery wheel. She spent a year exploring the Abstract Expressionism movement, loving how the process allowed her to exist in harmony with her emotions. After integrating this abstract style from her paintings to her pottery, Hughes continued to study this theme in more depth. She took pottery classes, completed a three-year apprenticeship, and attended a ceramics development course. Now, four years immersed in this world, she teaches throwing classes and creates pottery for others to enjoy in their daily lives.

MINNEAPOLIS — AiR TOUR — Issue 10 Kate O’Donnell MINNEAPOLIS — AiR TOUR — Issue 10 Art by Kate O’Donnell Kate O’Donnell sM | How do you maintain a fresh and artistic perspective when creating works with social or political relevance? KO ── When I attempt to create something that acknowledges political events, I have a focus or a message I am trying to get across. Finding your own explicit focus for your work can help maintain a “fresh” perspective because it stems completely from your own take on a current social issue. In the past, I have created socially relevant works in which the focus derived from my emotional response to a current event. For example, in an artwork of mine entitled Thank You , I was filled with gratitude for healthcare workers who were working non-stop during the pandemic. Continue the AiR tour in print: ISSUE 9 | ISSUE 10 Sign Up to K eep Up! Our newsletter brings you the best in the visual and performing arts. Exclusive interviews. Global coverage. Local perspectves. sM | What did you learn from the process of live painting during your time as the Artist in Residence at the Lighthouse ArtSpace Minneapolis? KO ── Firstly, I learned how to balance socializing and focusing. I talked to the guests but remembered not to get too distracted from my artwork. Eventually, I learned how to effectively paint and talk with people. It seemed the guests enjoyed watching me paint as I chatted too, which was a relief. Beyond this, I learned how to create many pieces in one day. Basically, I worked on at least five different projects at once. I had two big paintings, a flower pot, and multiple earrings that I constantly rotated through during the day. Adding to this, I also learned so much about the guests and which of my pieces were the most popular among them. I was so interested to hear everyone’s takes on my artwork, what it reminded them of, and how it made them feel. One woman cried looking at a painting! sM | What is one social issue that your art speaks to the most? KO ── I believe my art speaks to the issue of disconnection the most. I have quite a few paintings that I created in March 2020. I felt extremely disheartened by the forced separation at this time. I remember feeling a huge sense of hope when I saw imagery from Italy of people playing music, dancing, and singing from their balconies. They were all safely separated but still enjoying a sense of togetherness. From this image, I was inspired to create a painting called Connected from a Distance . It was inspiring to see that there were so many people doing their part to be safe, quarantine, and respect health guidelines in order to keep everyone safe. PREVIOUS NEXT

Norris Yim: Nameless Nameless 0522 (2022) by Norris Yim Hiding in plain (and colourful) sight WORDS BY FLYNN DAUNT | CHICAGO | STUDIO SESSIONS NOV 28, 2022 | ISSUE 7 On either side of my work desk as I write this, hangs a print from a unique series by Hong Kong artist Norris Yim: Nameless No.1 and Nameless No.19 . The Nameless series is essentially a vast collection of faceless portraits, and while that might sound like a contradiction, these paintings invite the viewer to unpeel their ambiguous brushstrokes. Long before N95 masks became the ubiquitous uniform of the pandemic-era, Yim has been exploring the figurative masks that we don in order to navigate the social and political spaces we occupy. What is remarkable about these portraits is how completely married the mask and the face behind it appears to be, and yet, the real face remains enticingly concealed and recognizable. Yim joins smART Magazine to discuss on a series that is pivotal to his artistry and reflects the turmoil of his city’s political sphere.

LAS VEGAS — AiR TOUR — Issue 10 Penelope Spyratos LAS VEGAS — AiR TOUR — Issue 10 Art by Penelope Spyratos Penelope Spyratos sM | What qualities in a portrait do you think are key in shaping a countenance? PS ── What I find is essential for getting someone's likeness is being honest with the proportion and shape of their features. When I was first drawing people I knew, there was this urge to be polite and adjust things to look “prettier”. We're so acclimated to filtering photos of ourselves that many of us are uncomfortable or unfamiliar with our appearance. So much so that I found myself doing this not only in my self portraits, but projecting these ideas I had on the subjects I painted. Doing this erased Continue the AiR tour in print: ISSUE 9 | ISSUE 10 Sign Up to K eep Up! Our newsletter brings you the best in the visual and performing arts. Exclusive interviews. Global coverage. Local perspectves. the character in my faces. When I stopped making noses smaller and lips bigger, I could finally see a person I recognized. sM | What sentiment do the depictions of flower arrangements evoke the most in your work? PS ── Whenever I'm working on a piece where the subject is flowers, I try to remind myself that flowers are alive. They aren't just beautiful stationary objects, they change and move and breathe. It's easy for flowers to come off as stiff, and appear sort of perfect in an unnatural way. This is why I challenge myself to give plants a presence, with an energy and tone of their own. It almost gives them a surreal and fluid look, perpetually swaying in a breeze or tilting to follow a sunbeam. I feel placing flowers as the sole focus of a piece can still be exciting. PREVIOUS NEXT

Fran Gogh Illustration by Jeremy Lewis Lighthouse Immersive Arrives in SF WORDS BY ISABELLA ELIAS | TORONTO | VISUAL ARTS MAR 03, 2023 | ISSUE 10 Amid power outages, fires, a heatwave, and with a cross-national Stop Asian Hate protest right outside the venue, the Immersive Van Gogh exhibit weathered its first weekend on the West Coast as well as any native San Franciscan. After months of tantalizing posters featuring the artist’s self-portrait against a backdrop of city landmarks, the ribbon was cut and doors opened to the public last Thursday. With the Chicago installation currently sold out until mid-June, more than 120,000 tickets have already been purchased for the new ‘Fran Gogh’ experience—now extended into September to accommodate the highest presales yet for the travelling show. Since even the largest HD TVs tend to