What inspiration do you get from artists around you? The community of artists within Denver, Colorado creates a very driven and innovative energy as a collective. Overall, the community inspires me to push my artistic skills both traditionally and within the new opportunities of technology. I feel energized in imagining beyond the constructs we have had in the past by creating in ways that will grow our collective in the future. I’m often reminded by the presence of other artists, being authentic to themselves, how important it is for us all to share our unique stories. I’m prompted to ask myself: how can I most authentically and sustainably share my story? What legacy do I want to leave behind? How can I contribute to making the world a better place with the resources I have? The artists I am around push my creative drive and love of life. Continue reading in issue No.9. Artwork by Nina Stewart

What is the one social issue that your art speaks to the most? My art focuses on mental health struggles we all often go through. I personally struggle heavily with regulating my mental health, so therapy and having a healthy outlet have been extremely helpful. My pieces show where I am mentally at the time of creation. My emotions are usually spattered onto the canvas. Each stroke and colour choice tells a story. There’s a stigma around the mentally ill. Most of us shame ourselves and keep quiet about our struggles. Then there are the many obstacles around getting actual mental health care here in America that makes it almost impossible for the majority of the population to even attempt to get better. Continue reading in Issue No.9. Art by Destiny Bailey

What do you find most exciting about the current atmosphere in Denver's visual arts community? The Mile High City has a vibrant creative community, with neighbourhoods being rejuvenated and galleries popping up all over Denver. I love driving past all the murals, attending openings, and meeting new artists. Our city has stepped up with monetary aid, such as the Urban Arts Fund for murals. There are a lot of creative outlets here. We have numerous arts organisations, opportunities, and venues for taking classes. Continue reading in Issue No.9. Artwork by Colleen Hennessy

What inspiration do you get from artists around you? I am inspired by a lot of local artists; too many to mention, notably, Juan Quetzal, also known as Quetzal Visions. I love how he represents and supports the local indigenous community. I am fortunate enough to call him my friend and I love his art. He inspires me to look within and express myself authentically. Juan’s art speaks to my soul, a feat I aspire to achieve in my work. He, as well as many other local artists I’ve met, have encouraged me to not give up. Never give up! You can find Juan on Instagram @quetzal.visions. Continue reading in issue No.9. Artwork by Jonathan Justo Avila

How has the pandemic transformed your mission as an artist and priorities as a creative? The pandemic has made me realize just how much of my love for art is the act of sharing it with others. During the first lockdown, I began to test my ability to engage an audience. I began a project series called #WalkArt, where I created and placed detailed fine art paintings on rocks and logs alongside walking paths. Many would find the tagged art and send a message, or even leave notes by the paintings. I have continued to push myself creatively since then by joining an artist studio, leaving sketches for others to find, or painting on other non-traditional materials, like snowboards. This time has proven to me that creativity can come from, and is often needed most in, even the darkest moments. Continue reading in Issue No.9. “Irises” by Ava Lambert

Out of that elusive calculus by which concert programs are concocted, the latest Toronto Symphony Orchestra (TSO) production emerges as an interesting amalgamation. The program is a good indication of what the tenure of Music Director Gustavo Gimeno has in store for the years to come. Every orchestra is capable of flops, even the TSO, but these happen so rarely – thanks in part to the often traditional bent of the programing - that we take for granted the small miracle that’s just occured when a performance sincerely inspires upwards of three curtain calls. Gimeno + Dvorak's “New World” did exactly that in a concert that challenged as much as it satisfied expectations. In his interview with smART Magazine for Issue No.7, Gimeno responded to the issue of challenging audiences with dynamic programming – without alienating the traditional demographic – with a depth of thought that hints at the complexities involved in this task: “Programming core repertoire and well-known works for our audience is obviously important, but I also believe that we are living in a time where integration and togetherness are especially interesting and significant. Within many of the programs, the chosen pieces contrast strongly with each other in terms of style, era, and aesthetics. I think including fresh, new voices is really important, not only new music but also music by living composers who have perhaps had their work premiered by the TSO. By fusing innovation with core works of the classical symphonic repertoire, we are varying the programming, which is a challenge for us—for me, but also for the musicians! However, we knew that this was the journey we wanted to take our audience on. I’m aware of the fact that orchestras in Europe are funded in a different way, which in certain situations can make the process of blending established works with newer artists more stable. But that’s part of why it was important for us to combine these newer voices with the music and musicians that people know so well. I find that Torontonians have a sophisticated and adventurous appreciation for music, and Toronto is such a culturally vivid city. My belief is that we have a responsibility in two directions, both to honour what people know and love and to challenge ourselves and our audiences.” Gustavo Gimeno. It’s easy to talk the talk on a Zoom call when you’re just a couple weeks into the gig, but programs like Gimeno + Dvorak's “New World” vouch for the Director’s ability to also walk in the direction of new and interesting experiments on the podium. Putting together a dextrous program that stretches what the orchestra can do is not unlike organising a four-course meal ─ deliver a couple jabs with appetisers and hors d'oeuvres, and knock them out with the main course (in this case, Dvorak’s New World Symphony). First on the menu was the world premiere of a TSO commission: Mi Piñata by Mexican composer, Luis Ramirez. It’s a quaint and unpretentious take on a straightforward theme of walking up to a piñata and doing major damage in one single blow. Though the composer was present for a well deserved curtain call, the piece had Gimeno’s fingerprints all over it. For one, Ramirez is the kind of composer you have to go looking for, as the classical repertoire has hitherto made very little space for otherwise obvious talents such as his. Gimeno went looking, and found a work that makes up for its brevity with a smattering of atypical instruments, particularly in the percussion sections, that made for a light fanfare ending humorously with a flush down the rain stick. Bohislav Martinu’s The Rock was next on the docket for a slightly more cerebral turn in the program, and a great prefix for Hans Abrahamsen’s Horn Concerto. Inspired by Plymouth Rock, The Rock was the composer’s response to contrast of the natural sceneries of the American east coast and the racial turmoil of the 50’s ─ the racial integration of the Little Rock Central High School (Arkansas) was on the composer’s mind the year it was composed. Here again the percussions section is a standout, from the caterwaul of timpanis to the seismic rumbles of the bass drums. For something completely different, Stefan Dohr’s performance of the aforementioned Horn Concerto can be described as a virtuoso cosplaying as an amateur with a penchant for improvisation — in a good way. At least that’s what it seems Abrahamsen intended with this concerto. Nothing behaves as expected, not the structure of the movements (slow-fast-slow) nor the instruments: every time the piccolo and celesta chimed in, you’d think someone’s early-2000’s ringtone was going off. Dvorak’s Symphony No.9 is – and I sincerely believe this – the most complete work of the symphonic repertoire. New World does almost everything a symphony can do, and everything an orchestra could do at the time of its composition (1893). It’s my favourite symphony, so even a mediocre execution would still leave me with chills, but this TSO performance was at that calibre of fidelity to the composer’s vision where the instruments seem to dissolve into the music itself. From the sombre theme on oboe in the second movement, to that infectious main theme of the Scherzo, the performance was handled with as much freshness and anticipation as with Mi Piñata. Gimeno’s style on the podium – which tends to furnish gestures with a graceful and refined exaggeration – can at times leave too little to the imagination, a vestige perhaps of his background as a percussionist. But that style is perfectly suited for this symphony’s more muscular components, with arms punctuating every other bar for emphasis. On the surface, this program seems to be loosely centred on a theme of works composed for and on the American continent (with the Horn Concerto being the exception); or, more generally, on the arrival of spring. But the internal logic of this compilation is ultimately as a herald to the creative capacity of the Music Director responsible for it. A capacity that will be exercised to its fullness in the coming years. The next opportunity to catch one of these dynamic TSO programs is May 19, with Gimeno + Hannigan – a much anticipated concert which was also a subject of Barbara Hannigan’s interview with smART Magazine in the upcoming Issue 9 (available to pre-order). Author: Michael Zarathus-Cook Date: April 30th, 2022 Venue: Roy Thomson Hall - Toronto

What were some of the highlights of your residency? During my residency I accomplished beyond what I had envisioned. I was able to create both van Gogh-inspired pieces and pieces that are true to my own art style, which is portraiture in watercolour. I also had the opportunity to network and meet incredible people who appreciate art as much as I do. I accomplished selling original pieces, as well as prints, and overall put myself out there as a local artist in the city of Las Vegas. Lastly, I acknowledged my own talent and skill in a way that lets me see open doors in the future and all the great things that come with being an artist. Continue reading in issue No.9. "Vincent van Gogh” by Jackelin Aguirre

What inspiration do you get from artists around you? I am constantly soaking in inspiration from artists around me. Some artists from the past — like van Gogh, Monet, Renoir, Cezanne, Degas — but also contemporary artists that I find in some of my favourite galleries or on Instagram. I adore watching people’s processes and appreciating how different and unique our styles are. It’s beautiful how a dozen people can paint the same thing and you’ll get a dozen different expressions every time. What inspiration do you get from artists around you? The pandemic obviously forced change and a massive slow-down for most people, which in some ways dampened creativity and inspiration; however, it also allowed for a deeper awareness and stillness that opened the door for new ideas to come in. I actually used this time over the past couple of years to dive in and create more. It opened up a desire and commitment within me to take less unnecessary middle steps in my life and really begin creating at the level I want to be at now. Art cultivates connection, showcases beauty (which is subjective), discusses ideas, communicates meaning and reveals part of the human spirit in every brushstroke. Continue reading in issue No.9. “The Starry Rocky Mountains” by Kellsie Moore

Black curtains whoosh behind you as you slip between two worlds. The first is a place of average ecstasy: a gallery brimming with cosmic landscape paintings, three-dimensional colour-changing canvases, and psychedelic kaleidoscopes begging you to remember the days when the world was polychromatic on purpose. The second place — your destination — isn’t a place at all. It’s an intergalactic trail spanning the time-space continuum born in the mind of Spectra Art Space’s CEO and Chief Curator, Sadie Young. After gathering 25+ artists to design, compose, construct, and code Spookadelia 4: The Curse of Novo Ita, Sadie adds the finishing touch by stepping in as your docent. Sadie’s love of the storyline shines through as she ushers you between the curtains, into the rift, and beyond your imagination. The next few rooms take you on an adventure from a space odyssey movie script, to an adventure video game to a glow-in-the-dark fun house. By embracing the eerie sounds crackling from hidden crevices, plushy trinkets begging to be cuddled, and oozing flora seeping through the ceiling, you begin to understand the concept behind the exhibit; the world can be snuggly if you honour your environment. On the other hand, the world can be rotten if you do not take time to explore and care for the living mysteries surrounding you. With an opening like that, you cannot imagine Spookadelia losing its magical momentum, and yet that is exactly what happens. As soon as you enter the “rift” between the gallery and the immersive exhibit, you are forced to stand and stare at a grainy TV screen for 7 minutes. At first you think the rugged quality of the video is a theatrical element meant to emphasize the long-distance transmission you are receiving from the interplanetary travellers you have been sent to save. However, this hope is quickly dashed when you notice that a 5-second looped video of a gruff woman in animal skins walks the same semi-circle over and over and over every time the video’s narrator starts a new paragraph. The frequency of the looped video causes you to stop listening to the words and ponder, “She seems to be shivering, were there no other animal skins available for her to cover up?” You feel a small sense of shame at your lack of concentration on the lore that is meant to inform the rest of your experience. You snap out of it as the video ends and proceed to the next room. As you walk back into the gallery and proceed towards the exit, Sadie the CEO stops you to expound upon the solarpunk theme radiating throughout the exhibit. She implores you to remember the creatures you met as you re-enter the big city life waiting for you! You look around one last time at the palm-sized creatures bidding you farewell from the glass case beside the exhibit entrance and on your phone’s screen within the Spookadelia mixed reality mobile app. From this day forward, you are the hero of Earth’s comeback story! Author: Eboni J.D. Freeman Dates: March 6th, 2022 Venue: Spectra Art Space

The National Ballet of Canada (NBoC) put together a varied evening of ballet, modern dance, whimsical music, and comedy in their Winter Mixed Program. Every piece was unique, transforming the stage into different worlds through costuming, props, music, and lighting. The first piece Skyward had the dancers adorned in strips of a grey blue sky. And as the piece progressed the background changed from a darker sky to the golden orange of a sunset. After the Rain used dynamic music and drastic changes in lighting and costuming to depict the power of the rain and the beauty of the rainbow afterwards. On Solid Ground choreographed by Siphesihle November completely transformed the space with unique lighting and a costume that was both extravagant and innovative. Elite Syncopations ended the night by bringing the musicians onto the stage where the dancer’s movements on the sides were almost more entertaining than the action in the centre. After the Rain choreographed by Christopher Wheeldon was a stunning contrast between light and dark. The first part of the performance featured three duets all with straight clean lines and effortless partnering. The choreography spoke to time passing, rain falling, and a precision that matched the music to the point of unison. Then came the delicate pas de deux between Harrison James and Jillian Vanstone representing the light hazy mist after a hard rain. It was soft, elegant, and a beautiful final adieu for Vanstone’s 22 year career with the NBoC. Siphesihle November’s piece On Solid Ground used riveting movements that spoke to the flight of birds and the need to feel grounded to the earth. There were some extremely powerful instances, yet it lacked cohesiveness. Moments of unison felt off kilter and at times the slight difference in arms or head placement made the piece feel disjointed. The dancers effortlessly supported and partnered one another yet there seemed to be a main character, for reasons unknown, when a unified ensemble may have been more impactful. The finale of the program was fun, entertaining, and a great combination of acting, dancing, and music. Elite Syncopations told an entertaining story of young love, carnivals, and a 1920s dance contest. Each character had their own personality that was maintained throughout the performance, and they continually reacted to the movements of their partners whether on or off the stage. At times the acting was silly, matching the extravagant and unique costumes that sported grandiose hats and tights that made the ladies' pointe shoes look like part of a second skin. The Winter Mixed Program was a strong show and was curated in a way to allow each performance to support the overall aesthetic of the night. There may have been some bumps along the way, but each piece felt like a breath of fresh air. Making for an entertaining and enjoyable night out. Author: Nicole Decsey Date: Saturday March 12, Venue: Four Seasons centre for the Performing Arts Tickets: https://national.ballet.ca/Tickets/Current-Season

The two exhibitions on display at The University of Toronto's Art Museum, by intention or not, create a diptych. Miao Ying: A Field Guide to Ideology at the Justina M. Barnicke Gallery—part of the Scotiabank CONTACT Photography Festival—and Nations by Artists at the Art Centre are both provocative, incendiary, and hilarious investigations into the ways that ideology makes our world. These shows articulate the distress one can feel of being on the inside, and the danger of being outside, of the 'Nation'. However, there are also emancipatory moments for personal and collective action, jokes and proposals for resistance, like jokes. ​​Miao Ying: A Field Guide to Ideology The Canadian debut by Shanghai/New York artist, Miao Ying, is split between two installations: Chinternet Plus (亲特网+, 2016) and it's sequel, Hardcore Digital Detox (硬核数据排毒, 2018). Both pieces are available online as their own respective websites, but their IRL manifestations at the Barnicke Gallery, curated by Yan Wu, serve the ideas she explores with tactility, scale, and a little ambiance. The two pieces are based around a détournement of China's "Internet Plus", an economic strategy that incorporates cloud computing into traditional industries while maintaining an ideological consistency through browsing restrictions. This isn't the same old song excoriating Chinese censorship however, a track that tends to ignore the ideological formulations at play on the other side of 'The Great Firewall'. Chinternet Plus is a 'counterfeit ideology' presenting itself as a gift. It comes in a big drywall box—punctured with breathing holes. The many bows on it imply they might be barely holding something inside. Peeking in, as the peeling wallpaper scratches against your mask, reveals a mixture of glitching website design and people livestreaming. Miao Ying has compared using the Chinese Internet to Stockholm Syndrome, which is a counterfeit affection for surviving reality. The tongue-in-cheek use of its blue and chartreuse waiting-symbol logo is ironically optimistic: there's something beyond this restriction. Hardcore Digital Detox (HDD) is a sharper satire of a free and personalized internet that still manages to warp consciousness. The animation "Happily Contained" has a cookie defecating dove-dinosaur with multiple narwhal horns curling from its back and many other not-unicorns (ie. start-ups valued at $1 billion) wandering a garden of virtual delights. The narration murmurs through the room menacingly before fading to a harrowing scene of climate refugees, "post-Ideology can enable the deepest blindest form of ideology". HDD is a partial cure for addictive nihilism on the internet, you can browse unintuitively to confuse your filter bubbles or log off and craft selfies by hand, but there's no return to before the flood. Nations by Artists The horse is so large that the curators of Nations by Artists, Mikinaak Migwans and Sarah Robayo, had it disassembled to fit through the door. The replica of King Edward VII Equestrian Statue lies in three pieces on the hardwood floor. It doesn’t look buoyant at all, yet the video shows it drifting lazily with the current. In 2017, Toronto's art-comedy duo, Life of a Craphead, floated the complete Styrofoam statue down the Don River. Seeing it in person however, its polished surface belies how brittle it really is. There are other examples of anti-monumentalism. Decolonize This Place has an instructional poster for toppling actual statues. Flame Test (2009), by Will Kwan, is a hall of flags printed to appear in mid-burn. Conversely, there are also vestiges of nations that are latent in the artists' imaginations. Lorri Millan and Shawna Dempsey's video, Lesbian National Parks and Services: A Force of Nature (2002), proposes hilariously a nationhood that exists entirely on the periphery—borderless but protected from interlopers by their stalwart rangers. Greg Hill's Kanata Project (2000), is another video polling Ottawans on the imminent reversion of Canada to its original Haudenosaunee name. Like Millan and Dempsey's work, the video is quite funny, but there's an urgency and potential for everyday imagination from the people interviewed that's still relevant. This exhibit rewards time and is filled with poems and manifestos from artists and struggles around the world, across decades—I Want a President (1992) by Zoe Leonard, A Nation is a Massacre (2018) by Demian DinéYazhi & R.I.S.E, and Yael Bartana's ...and Europe will be Stunned (2012). Many of these are free to take but you must stay for the video essays­ by Iman Issa, Emma Wolukau-Wanambwa, and Basel Abbas and Ruanne Abou-Rahme’s viscerally rendered projection of Edward Said's After the Last Sky. These works directly engage with conceptual valence of Nations by Artists, that nations are both a form of centralized authority collective fictions. Author: Miles Forrester Dates: February 8–April 2, 2022 Venue: Art Museum at the University of Toronto Tickets: artmuseum.utoronto.ca/exhibition/miao-ying-a-field-guide-to-ideology

If knock-off designer bags are illegal, this is immoral. Walking up to the 40-foot long line slithering out of the Convergence Station entrance, you have already begun your ascent into the dancehall heavens of Meow Wolf’s first midnight immersive party. An assorted array of leather, sparkles, fishnets, and pom-poms wobble in the night air as hundreds of attendees shiver in the 14-degree weather. As your bones begin to quake, you look down at your black shirt and pants feeling abhorrently un-dazzling. In the next moment, a lovely group of leprechauns standing just behind you in line holds out a shimmering packet of stick-on jewels and a miniature jar of face glitter. As you gratefully accept, slather on the glitter, and pop on the body gems, you look around and observe that the more your appearance stands out, the more you feel like you fit in. Let the Danceportation begin. A giddy swell of technicolor dream fairies welcomes you as you glide through the atrium and onto the first of three dancefloors. The emo-punk rhythm thumping from the 10-foot tall speakers blasts past you as you examine the first of many extravagant phenomena. The first door to your right reveals a life-sized castle bursting through the floor with such a luster that Cinderella would have traded her shoes, her prince, and her tiara to AirBnB it. Between the palace pillars, a swarm of guests buzzes up the gravel encrusted stairs and towards the rainforest region of the behemoth building. Here, early aught’s pop booms through the radios placed strategically around the three-level room. In striking contrast with the thumping music, you find yourself wading through a delicately delightful array of nautical biomes, savannah terrains, and grassy plains nestled inside everyday technological gadgets such as cassette tapes and electrical control panels. The miniature worlds invite you to stay a moment - or a millennia - but pulsing neon lights catch your eye, and you proceed to infiltrate a room marked “Do Not Enter.” You would have been better off staying away. Behind the door is the Chuckiest Cheesiness you’ve ever seen. If knock-off designer bags are illegal, this is immoral. With rat paraphernalia decorating every crevice and corner, the meticulousness shining through in the first two rooms glares back at you in this fast food-oriented bonanza. The quantity and quality of new ideas blitzing across the Meow Wolf space thus far makes this animatronic wasteland even more disappointing. You exit up the nearest staircase before a rat’s tail sprouts out of your soul. A shiver of excitement rolls down your spine as you waltz into a cityscape at the vertex of Blade Runner and Total Recall. The masters of reality engineering have outdone themselves as electronic dance music (EDM) whips past your eardrums and the art surrounding you represents a quantum leap forward in techno-futurism. By maximizing the potential of physical space as a versatile piece of imagineering equipment, Danceportation designers have facilitated the creation of millions of magical worlds whose only confines is the creative capacity of the Convergence Station visitors. Author: Eboni J.D. Freeman Date: Sunday February 27, 2022 (12:00 a.m. - 4:00 a.m.) Venue: Convergence Station

We came for Mozart, but stayed for his contemporaries. The image that comes to mind when you think of a mostly-Mozart recital probably isn’t a sleek-suited millennial from Iceland with good stage-banter. Enter Vikingur Ólafsson from Reykjavík. We often read about young pianists “breathing new life” into the dusty pages of forgotten annals of baroque music, only to show up and find the same regurgitated curtsying to overly academic music. But Ólafsson’s performance at Toronto’s Koerner Hall – his debut at the beautiful concert hall – was a genuinely experimental excursion. It was the equivalent of touring a city you’ve lived in all your life, but under the auspices of a tour guide that’s obsessed with every detail on every brick on every corner. It is this palpable obsession with the boy genius composer that animates the nearly 85-minute performance – sans sheet music – that invigorated, then exhausted, then reinvigorated the Koerner Hall audience. The program was a carbon copy of Ólafsson’s latest album for Deutsche Grammophon, Mozart & Contemporaries. In this album, and throughout the performance, we are taken by a steady hand on a tour of the creative atmosphere that engendered the Mozart that we know, via contemporaries such as Cimarosa, Galuppi, and Haydn. Perhaps it’s merely modern sensibilities, but the myth – and yes myth – of the obstinate and inexplicable musical genius just doesn’t have the same sway over the imagination that it once did, at least for me. This is particularly true when we factor in all the attendant baggage of classical music’s worship of white male genius. Ólafsson’s program circumvented this worship – though not entirely avoiding it – by, in effect, zooming out to show the larger setting from which Mozart’s music emerged. This is the gimmick that lends Mozart & Contemporaries it’s experimental bent. My guess is that there were only a few in attendance that are as intimately familiar with the aforementioned contemporaries as they are with the Mozart piano pieces on program. Slightly unfamiliar territories like these help to deliver a truly present concert experience. One that shifts away from worship of a particular genius and towards the unadorned content of the musical material – which, in this case, is brimming with that incandescent luminosity of the baroque chamber. Essentially: we came for Mozart, but stayed for his contemporaries. Back in January, Ólafsson joined smART Magazine from Paris, between rehearsals, for an all-purpose conversation on his album and the current musical milieu across Europe. Discussing Mozart & Contemporaries, he previewed the concert with some thoughts on his mission for this project, and the Mozart he wanted to present: VO | “Very often we look back on history in rough terms. We think of the Classical period, Baroque period, Romantic period, or Impressionism, thinking these terms describe something—but they really don’t. My idea with this album was to give a snapshot of the kind of creative diversity that was going on with musicians of the 1780s.” “One aspect I wanted to show is the music of composers like Galuppi and Cimarosa who have been lost in Mozart's shadow. Mozart’s shadow is big for a reason, but that’s not to say that these other composers weren’t incredibly creative people. In their best moments, they wrote inspired and ingenious music that can easily stand next to Mozart.” “Another aspect I wanted to show was Mozart in his last 10 years. Sometimes we focus too much on his youthful genius, and I actually think that everything changed for Mozart between 1781 and 1791. That’s when he became Mozart as we know him. If we imagine he had died in 1781 instead of 1791, we would lose great operas like Don Giovanni and The Magic Flute, as well as the late chamber music, incredible late piano works, and so much more. If we had lost those works, I don’t think we’d view him the same way today.” Find the full interview in the upcoming Issue 9 of smART Magazine. The sheer physical concentration required to execute this program can’t be overstated. 85 minutes of nuances in gestures and intonations, emphasis on this dying note and that thundering intro – all this and the pianist still emerges unblemished, returning for several curtain calls plus an encore delivered with the same melodic acuity as the Andante spiritoso by Galuppi that performed nearly two hours earlier. Speaking with Ólafsson, it’s easy to see the genuine and infectious obsession he has for the music. I don’t think this obsession is a necessary prerequisite for a convincing recital, but it’s rare enough that when you see it, a slight shadow of doubt is cast on what everyone else is doing up there. Did I mention this was a nearly two-hour concert? Divided only by a 5 minute breather to reintroduce blood flow to our legs? Perhaps a shorter program, teasing excerpts from the album, would have been better for selling the CDs and vinyl copies in the lobby? It felt like very little was left for the imagination in this regard. Not to mention the missed opportunity for Ólafsson to reach deeper into his bag of obscure contemporaries to deliver a program that’s more even curated to the evening. The saving grace here is that you don’t get the short contextualizing lectures and anecdotal tidbits, which Ólafsson inserted throughout the performance, in the studio recording. That said, I’m reluctant to complain about the length of this program when Toronto has gone so long without live performances, and with so many despiriting interruptions. At any rate, live music is back here and smART Magazine is looking forward to getting into the swing of the concert circuit. It’s open season again, and hopefully for good this time – fingers crossed. Author: Michael Zarathus-Cook Date: Performed on February 24, 2022 Venue: Koerner Hall

Live performances might seem a thing of the past but on air, created by Heidi Strauss (adelheid) and presented by Citadel + Compagnie, is helping to bring it back. It’s an immersive performance that encompasses audience participation, videography, projection, spoken word, and dance to create an experience that is unique and impactful. The Citadel was transformed into an intimate theatre with dynamic lighting to put every delicate movement on display. The thoughts and experiences of both dancers and audience members alike were put on air for everyone to hear and see. No one was left in the dark. Before the performance started, the audience was asked to fill out a Google Form on their phones: a short survey asking questions like what letters make up our favourite sound, what we do when we are unsure, and more. The answers were then incorporated into the show. In this way, there was a silent dialogue between viewer and performer, which was interspersed within the physical and vocal conversations of the three performers. This immersion, and audience participation, provided the opportunity for a secret dialogue to take place that only one individual in the audience would be privy to, bringing an intimacy into the work. Both the observed and unobserved dialogues were seamlessly incorporated into the movement of the piece, adding a sense of spontaneity, play, and excitement. The only drawback to the show is how easy it was to get lost in the abstractions of the work. There are two voice-overs in the piece that are taken from a conversation with one of the performers' great grandmothers. The second recording is very thought provoking and beautiful. However, the first time the voice is heard, it is unclear and slightly muffled. This left the audience in an uneasy situation, wondering what they missed and how the lost moment contributed to the overall aesthetic of the show. Being able to see every movement, every smile, every moment of concentration on the stage was a welcome experience after being separated from everything by a screen for so long. Heidi Strauss’s choreography used off balance movements, twists, and weight sharing to generate a deep and necessary connection between the performers. The effort that went into the movement was not hidden but put on air for the audience to observe and understand. You could not help but share in the performers struggles, their joys, and their sorrows. on air manages to create a unique and immersive experience that can never be the same twice. It is a living breathing organism that puts our actions and thoughts in the light. Author: Nicole Decsey Dates: February 18th to February 26th, 2022 Venue: The Citadel Ross Centre for Dance Tickets: https://www.citadelcie.com/event/on-air/