Clumsy and Free: Iron & Wine’s Light Verse Sam Beam INTERVIEW — Sam Beam’s latest release is a colourful contrapposto of gloomy joy Words by Michael Zarathus-Cook | Illustration by Dane Thibeault ISSUE 13 | NASHVILLE | ALT.ITUDE A heavy hand and a light touch is a combination that’s always worked for Sam Beam’s Iron & Wine project, and on Light Verse the weight of this lightness is felt with an unprecedented fullness. Beam declares in the presser for his seventh studio album that, “it’s my first official Iron & Wine comedy album,”—a declaration he qualifies with a “Just kidding!”─but it really is the loosest, freest, most unclasped album he’s recorded. There’s perhaps always been an element of humour in the Iron & Wine canon: from the sly smile lurking in the way his lofty lyrics hover above even the gloomiest depths of his rainy voice, to the etymology of the “Iron & Wine” moniker—borrowed from the brand name of a tonic used to treat anaemia. That sly smirk has broadened into a wide grin on Light Verse, with songs that reach earnestly for the simple joy of making music with friends in a sunbathed city that only responds to a light touch (Los Angeles). For Beam, the seven-year-hiatus from Iron & Wine’s last studio album, Beast Epic , has been dotted by flurries of activity and spreads of inertia. Activity in the form of a collaborative album with Calexico ( Years to Burn ); live recordings and archival releases; and cinematic explorations through the documentary Who Can See Forever: A Portrait of Iron & Wine —for which there’s a companion soundtrack album by the same name. The inertia imposed by the collective calamity of pandemic-era cancellations and creative paralysis was finally broken with the 2022 release of a short EP featuring songs from singer-songwriter Lori McKenna’s discography ( Lori ). Whereas a “Back to Basics” tour in 2021 allowed Beam to shake off the layer of hoarfrost that had settled on his muscle memory as a performer, and the release of Lori defrosted yet another layer, it wasn’t until the songs on Light Verse began to percolate that he was able to stretch his creative limbs on the songwriting front. The confluence of this period of atrophy, the ignition provided by McKenna’s music, and Beam’s own exploration of a playful style of poetry loosely described as “light verse”, all came together to form the lyrics that trot with a clumsy joy across the landscapes of Light Verse . Despite the trotting, Light Verse is also a symphonic album that boasts a chorus of multi-instrumentalists, vocalists (including Fiona Apple), and a 24-piece orchestra lending string wings to four of the album’s ten songs. Lyrically, this album encroaches on new territory for the Beam songbook. In the same fashion as Phosphorescent’s Revelator ─ also released this month — Beam seemingly strives for the final frontier in songwriting: simplicity. After two decades of Bon-Iver-level indecipherable songwriting, Light Verse reaches for plain and simple English, and manages to stick the landing most of the time. In songs like “Cutting it Close” and “Bag of Cats”, the writing is downright conversational, straining for the comical but stopping short of slapstick. Even in places where dark clouds linger ─ “Taken by Surprise” and “Tears that Don’t Matter” — there’s a frictionless glide between words and music that reveals a newfound contentment with overcast days. As a whole, the album maintains a sort of contrapposto : where the subject matter bears weight, the music around it jumps around with colourful banter, and vice versa. All throughout, there is still the same warm drizzle in Beam’s voice that has characterised Iron & Wine since The Creek Drank the Cradle , but Light Verse makes space in this rain for the gaping sluices where a sunlit gospel shines through. Joining Cannopy from Durham, North Carolina — a subtly musical city boasting the likes of Jenn Wasner — Beam sifts through layers of recent memory, laughter, and yes music . Light Verse in 3 songs: “All in Good Time” All in good time our plan went to shit I told my future by reading your lips You wore my ring until it didn’t fit All in good time All in good time we suffered enough We met our muscle when push came to shove Swept all that broken glass under the rug There are songs that demand a sunroof, this is certainly one of them. Opening with slowly ramping phrases on a dusty piano that perhaps hadn’t been fingered in a while, Beam’s voice unfurls like long-drawn curtains letting in the first rays of spring. Arriving in this sunny spot, Apple’s voice goes in a different direction: sunlight on a broken column, cracks in a teacup. What follows is the sort of self-content sing-a-long that we’d cringe to see in an early 2000’s TV movie, replete with symphonic sweeps and a strongly cadential phrase repeated over and over. But it works. It works so well precisely because of an indelible mix of earnest sincerity and that searching quality that characterises good songwriting: not quite finding the words, but hey, that’s alright. “You Never Know” You could make gray and call it gold Let it fool your eyes You could make rain and let it have your life Being green grass, any little wind Begs you for a dance You could say love until it lasts This is that old school Iron & Wine pseudo-falsetto joint, rolled tight and licked twice. It has the same summertime anthem feel as “Tree by the River” ( Kiss Each other Clean ), or something you could sing just above the crackling of an autumnal campfire. The only thing you’d need are the backup vocals from a deeply effusive orchestra racing to a crescendo right as repetition of the song’s title is reaches comedic heights. “Taken by Surprise” I knew someone long ago Whether I wanted to or not We never said goodbye that I remember She never knew how much she gave How much she made and left behind I never knew how much I had to surrender In every album of this silly-sincere sort, there’s a song that’s always tucked away, in a room within rooms, where the other songs come to lie down when the brass and laughter dies down. “Taken by Surprise '' is 100% it. Here, the gloomy ghost of songs past ─ like “Waves of Galveston '' and “Summer Clouds — are resurrected with a fresh sense of acceptance. Its first gestures are heard in the firm but steady taps against the dead wooded back of a calloused guitar, and from there a plain and tender song gathers around this rustic platform: we hear the scarecrow fingers of wire brushes scratching a snare drum, a booming double bass at a steady heartbeat (Sebastian Steinberg, frequent Apple collaborator), the steady rattle of a tambourine (or is that a bag of broken glass?). But it’s Beam’s measured exhalation of the words “I don’t get taken by surprise anymore,” repeated with the same flat persistence of a ritualistic mantra, that is most arresting. This simple phrase appears at first defiant, confident; then morose — a realisation perhaps of the loss in these words — then, finally, in acceptance. Interview excerpt Subscribe to The Cannopy Newsletter for the full interview with Iron & Wine's Sam Beam

Tragic, Operatic, Real: Jacqueline Returns to Tapestry Jaqueline will run at the Betty Oliphant Theatre from February 20-23 Words by Eva Stone-Barney | Interview by Michael Zarathus-Cook | Photography by Dahlia Katz TORONTO | TORPA More often than not, conventional opera relies on some degree of maximalism to tell its stories: several singers, accompanied by some combination of instruments (usually an orchestra), performing on elaborate sets, with extravagant costumes. What happens when all of that is taken away? This question is asked and answered in Tapestry Opera ’s remount of Jaqueline , an opera by GRAMMY-nominated composer Luna Pearl Woolf, with text by Pulitzer Prize-winning librettist Royce Vavrek. Jaqueline tells the tragic story of English cellist Jaqueline du Pré, a child prodigy who won the Queen’s Prize at 15 years old, and began playing as a soloist with the BBC Symphony Orchestra before she turned twenty. At age 24, she developed symptoms of multiple sclerosis. du Pré was diagnosed at 28, and died of the disease when she was just 42. du Pré’s 1965 recording of the Elgar concerto with the London Symphony Orchestra was regarded as near-perfect, and has gone down in history as a definitive version of the work. It is from Elgar’s work that Pearl Woolf drew inspiration for Jaqueline ’s structure, mirroring the four-movements of the concerto in her depiction of the virtuoso’s brief, wonderfully musical life. Pearl Woolf and Vavrek, along with Director and Dramaturg Michael Mori, chose to say more with less in this show. Sparse staging, simple set and costumes, and intimate lighting design assist the single soprano voice (Marnie Breckenridge) and cellist (Matt Haimovitz) in telling du Pré’s story. Haimovitz, who knew du Pré at the end of her life when he was a teenager, brings a unique emotional connection to the work, and echoes of du Pré herself into his playing. The opera was premiered by Tapestry Opera during their 40th anniversary season. Almost five years later to the day, the company is bringing it back for a second run in Toronto, fresh off of its American premiere in the summer of 2024. Breckenridge and Haimovitz will return to their performance of this emotionally and musically challenging piece, this time having grown with and through the music since they first presented it to the public in 2020. Jacqueline has a number of things working in its favour at this particular social and cultural moment. In terms of its subject, it attends to the current wave of interest in iconic figures of classical music (made evident by such films as Maestro , about Leondard Berstein; and the recently released Maria, based on the life of Maria Callas). What’s more, the salience of one of the opera’s guiding themes, the relationship between illness and music-making, is particularly evident in the long wake of the COVID-19 pandemic. As explored in Jaqueline , one of du Pré’s first symptoms of MS was persistent brain-fog — what was once an obscure medical symptom will now resonate with many in the audience, either directly or indirectly. Arts organisations and individuals alike have faced the challenges of making art while suffering debilitating physical ailments and illness in recent years, giving a whole new level of universal weight to this very personal story. The second run of Jacqueline comes at an interesting time for the company, which, having survived a difficult five years, is about to launch their 2025/2026 season and will soon move into a new space, at 877 Yonge Street. In some ways, it marks the end of a chapter, and the beginning of something new. Jaqueline will run at the Betty Oliphant Theatre from February 20-23, before the company launches their next season, in concert, on March 22.

Reflections with Timo Andres Timo Andres - Photo by Michael Wilson The pianist and composer on bringing the latest release by Sufjan Stevens to life WORDS BY ZOE CLELAND ISSUE 12 | NEW YORK | ENSEMBLE With a multiplicity of possibilities expanded by the technological advancements now at our disposal, more and more artists are collaborating across traditional industry boundaries. One such exciting crossover is celebrated indie singer-songwriter Sufjan Stevens ’s foray into the world of ballet. Stevens, who has been nominated for both Academy and Grammy awards for his work, began collaborating with choreographer Justin Peck in 2012 to adapt his music for the dance. Their creative partnership has produced numerous scores, including Year of the Rabbit (2012), Everywhere We Go (2014), In the Countenance of Kings (2016), The Decalogue (2017), and Principia (2019). Timo Andres - Photo by Michael Wilson Stevens says that their latest collaboration, Reflections , written for two pianos and eleven dancers, is about “energy, light, and duality.” Released through Asthmatic Kitty Records and produced by Ryan Streber, it sees the return of pianist and composer Timo Andres performing alongside fellow pianist Conor Hanick . Although Stevens is that magical breed of self-taught musician who learned his considerable skill by ear, Andres’s proficiency in orchestral music composition and performance has bridged the necessary gap between artificial in-studio orchestras and real ones. Reflections is a distillation of Stevens’s expansive electronica and orchestral pop, and is electrifying in its condensed, two-instrument expression of the artist’s original sound. Timo Andres - Photo by Michael Wilson Their connection dates back to 2017 when Andres recorded music for The Decalogue, fresh off its premiere at the New York City Ballet. Reflections was the third collaboration between Andres, Stevens, and Peck, recently followed by Illinois (2023) — a theatrical performance based on Stevens’s much-loved concept album of the same name — performed at New York’s Bard College. Andres’s interpretation of Stevens’s essence embraces the inherent, defining aspects of his work while gently transitioning it to the new context of dance , one that has the potential to uplift both forms of art.

Lighthouse Immersive Goes Global At the Disney Animation Immersive Experience Following meteoric rise in North America, the Canadian company embarks on its international immersive journey WORDS BY MEGAN APA | ALL PHOTOGRAPHS COPYRIGHT OF DISNEY | PARTNER JUN 30, 2023 | ISSUE 12 DRIFT TO TOKYO sM | What other factors influenced the selection of Japan as a destination? VF ─ First and foremost, we’re super excited about being open in Tokyo. To start off with, it’s one of the greatest cities in the world. But there were a few factors that went into deciding where we wanted to go. We started off by trying to identify the bigger Disney markets around the world. We collaborated with the great people at Walt Disney Animation Studios and the Disney regional offices across the globe, who have all been super supportive. We were also very lucky to have collaborated with a great group in Japan called Nippon Television. We then identified the markets that made the most sense for our expansion. After that came the process of figuring out: how do we make this work?

What Can Stravinsky Do For You? Morgan's Tattoo of Stravinski Juilliard bassoonist, Morgan Davison, on how she found the magic of Stravinsky. WORDS BY MORGAN DAVISON | NEW YORK | MUSIC NOV 15, 2022 | ISSUE 8 sM | What does Stravinsky’s have in store for a new generation of performers and concertgoers? MD — I was six years old when I first stumbled upon Mr. Stravinsky. I was staying with my aunt, who always put something on the T.V. to help lull me and my twin brother to sleep. I’m not sure if it was by fate or by accident that my only memory of this stay is when my aunt tucked us into bed and then put the movie Fantasia 2000 on the screen. Fantasia sets animated stories to life, accompanied by classical greats such as Beethoven’s 5th and Respighi’s Pines of Rome . Stravinsky’s Suite from his ballet The Firebird is the last short story in the movie. I was so enraptured by how this music felt different, almost three-dimensional; as if the fluttering of the flute and strings in the “Firebird Variation” of the Suite brought the cartoonized leaves, being stirred on the screen, directly into my lap. Yes, I connected with the visual story being told, but it was the music that made me feel something. After this encounter, I decided I wanted to be a classical musician. It wasn’t until I started auditioning for schools, however, that I realized just how far back my love for Stravinsky’s music went. As a bassoonist, it’s utterly impossible to get through a single audition without encountering something by Stravinsky. Along with the technical difficulty of these excerpts, to achieve the correct emotion behind the music is the greatest struggle.

CONVERGENT DIVERGENCY Peter Kelly, Yuichiro Inoue, Megumi Kokuba, Rachana Joshi, and Purawai Vyas in “helix” choreographed by Atri Nundy. Lighting design by Noah Feaver. Costume design by Valerie Calam. Photo by Marlowe Porter TDT ends it's season with explosive juxtapositions WORDS BY MILES FORRESTER | Toronto Dance Theatre MAR 23, 2023 | COMMUNITY Convergent Divergency is the kind of title that would be familiar to anyone who's ever had to put a group of artists together. It sounds like theory and it's open enough for most practices to reside in its dialectic. That said, the success of Toronto Dance Theatre's last show of the season owes a small part of its success to the seed that title planted. Atri Nundy's helix (a Bharatanatyam-informed minimalist exploration of forms) and Danah Rosales' GIVE ME ONE (a joyous exhibition from Toronto's kiki ballroom scene) are both excellent works. When paired, they're an incredibly cohesive program. It's not that one departs from the other, or one creates the ground for that departure; each piece has something revealed by their compliment.

Between Pheasants Contemporary Between Pheasants Contemporary Courtesy of the Gallery Fowl play is encouraged in this unique gallery experience WORDS BY EMILY PITTMAN | KERNS | VISUAL ARTS FEB 26, 2023 | ISSUE 11 Beginning as a passion project for Alexander Rondeau, Between Pheasants Contemporary (BPC) is a thriving one-of-a-kind display space for artists and curators across all stages of their careers. BPC’s function is exactly as its name presents: art installed in a pheasant coop, with or without the pheasants present. Many artists choose to take advantage of this unique opportunity to share their exhibit with the coop’s feathered residents, allowing the curious hens to live among (and possibly interact with) their work. The building has a charmingly unassuming appearance, with its symmetrical window boxes and board and batten siding that provide only a little hint of the arts programming within. Nestled on a farm in rural Northern Ontario, BPC offers contemporary art discourse amid a practical, functional farm. Artworks are fastened to chicken wire and hung from wooden beams, each show is accompanied by well-considered statements, and the small exhibition space feels as polished as any urban white cube. With a curatorial mission of championing the emerging and underrepresented, the work displayed in this unorthodox space is selected for its thoughtfulness...

Gray Area Foundation: Barry Threw Barry Threw by Jeremy Lewis "Art history is also a history of technology development." WORDS BY DANI WILLIAMS | VISUAL ARTS NOV 11, 2022 | ISSUE 8 The past issues of smART Magazine have highlighted the unique character of the cities that the Immersive Van Gogh Exhibit has reached. With this, we celebrate how each city is different, allowing the Immersive Van Gogh Exhibit to consistently reinvent itself across various cities. In that spirit, we are delighted to welcome Gray Area Foundation for the Arts and speak with the Executive Director, Barry Threw. Gray Area invokes social change through the promotion and development of creative programs in San Francisco and offers multidisciplinary artists—with a focus on technology—a platform they would otherwise not get at traditional arts organizations. With this, Gray Area is able to contribute to the growing discussion around inclusivity and allow many underrepresented creatives a chance to showcase their work. We spoke with Threw about Gray Area’s efforts to include marginalized communities into their programs, how the San Francisco artistic community has responded to COVID-19, and how Gray Area incorporates technology and innovation into the artistry it is representing.

CLAY: Silly Ceramics and Calaca’s Creatures Nastia Calaca “I rarely need to explain myself: this is a blue elephant, he wears a cylinder and smokes a pipe ─ what is unclear here?” Words by Amelia Johannsen ISSUE 15 | PARIS | MATERIALS When it comes to ceramic art, it’s often hard to tell where artistic form ends and quotidian function begins. The work of Nastia Calaca makes this distinction quite easy with a unique mix of clay and whimsy, fantasy and glaze. Writing from Barcelona, Amelia Johannsen - herself a ceramic artist - pens an introduction for Cannopy’s profile of Calaca with an insider’s look at the art of the kiln. Born in Ukraine and now based in Paris, Nastia Calaca never planned to become a ceramic artist. She initially dreamed of becoming an illustrator, bringing her characters to life on paper. It was a summer art camp that led her down a path where her childhood doodles of mythical creatures would find new life as tactile, three-dimensional forms. Her ceramic sculptures feature whimsical and charmingly absurd characters that might have wandered out of a children’s book. The balance between function and fantasy plays a key role in her practice, where each object is imbued with a personality and whimsical warmth that’s been unpredictably transformed in the kiln through the alchemic mix of heat and glazes. "Croc" As an artist working with clay myself, I find her process intriguing. Her approach seems spontaneous and fearless, letting the clay guide her rather than imposing rigid structure. Yet, her characters seem to land on the right side of quirky—they’re playful, unapologetically odd, and they invite us to suspend our expectations, leaning into a world where imagination takes center stage. In her work, I can see how small, unexpected observations spark her creative instinct. Like her, I’m drawn to the strange beauty found in everyday moments and objects, where something as simple as the moss on a tree or a stranger’s unusual hat can inspire entirely new forms. And then there’s the element of surprise—the unpredictability of the kiln, a space I know well, where a glaze can make or break a piece, sometimes literally. I appreciate the thrill she embraces in this, where the process itself introduces a touch of chaos that adds to the character of her sculptures. Her style might not fit neatly into everyone’s taste, and that’s part of the joy of it. In a world where ceramics often lean toward sleek, polished finishes, her approach is wonderfully organic, embracing the unpredictable. Calaca’s work reminds us that art can be an invitation to savor the playful, tactile nature of clay without taking it all too seriously. CANNOPY x Nastia Calaca Nastia Workshop CAN | How did you get into ceramics? NC ─ I am trying to remember where exactly my journey started; maybe it was a magical coincidence or proof of the determinism theory, depending on what you believe. But, my grandmother took me to the nearest educational institution, which happened to be an art school in the neighborhood, with the hope I could finally stop vandalizing our tiny apartment with doodles on the wallpaper, furniture, a neighbor’s cat, several hamsters, and other objects that looked boring to me and needed aesthetic improvement. SUBSCRIBE BELOW TO CONTINUE READING

INK: Art or Artifice? Illustration by Audrey App Six tattoo artists across six cities reflect on their work as an artistic practice Words by Dani Williams ISSUE 8 | MATERIALS Like many traditional artists, tattoo artists begin their process with a pen and paper, or some modern version of that. Despite the artistic abilities and talent of these artists, they still struggle to be recognized in the same stature as more conventional visual artists. In this series, I present a selection of female tattoo artists to learn and listen to their truth about where the industry exists in the art world, and their experiences being women in the industry. Speaking from my experience, being a female-identifying person with many tattoos, I have been the target of discrimination because of my body art. I have been turned down for jobs, frowned at, cat-called, told I would be much prettier without them, and that I would never be successful because of them. Some people prefer their art on walls, and some prefer it on their bodies; either way, it is still art, and it does not make you any less. But first, let’s ask: what makes something art? Modern artists would argue it’s all about intention. If you create something with the intent for it to be art, then it’s art. Whether it’s a tattoo or an oil painting, if the objective was art, then that’s what it is. Another point to consider is that paintings are collected, and so are tattoos. Tattoo collectors have even gone as far as acquiring human skin, preserved, framed, and then mounted for all to celebrate. In 2016, the Royal Ontario Museum did an entire exhibit focused on tattoos and tattoo culture, called Tattoos: Ritual. Identity. Obsession. Art , which showcased the history and traditions of the art form. The discussion circling the idea of whether or not tattoos should be considered a fine art should, hopefully, be discarded within this decade. These women (and many others) possess an aptitude that is unmistakably that of a professional visual artist. They are experts in their craft and deserve to be celebrated as such. CAN | In what ways do female artists still struggle for recognition of self-expression in the industry? KD ─ I, like many female tattooers, was brought up in a man's world. I wasn’t taken seriously early on in my career. I was laughed at, dominated, rejected and exposed to way too much sexual assault. It was not the same for my male counterparts—it became paramount that I needed to create a space for female tattooers to flourish in this industry. A space where we can focus on our craft and feel safe and respected—where our clients can feel safe and respected. I think that as more incredible female tattooers are emerging and staking their claim, they will continue to demand change and respect. There’s no denying the immense talent that women have brought to the industry, but with that being said, it really depends on our environment. Fortunately, mine has changed significantly in the last six years because I have forced that change by creating a space that we can feel confident and thrive in. A space to focus solely on our craft. Tattooing will thicken your skin and because of that it has shaped me into the strong, self-assured person that I am today, which allows me and others to stand out in a once male-dominated industry. My experience as a female tattooer hasn't always been easy, but I'm grateful to have been brought up the way I have so that I can make a positive difference in the lives of other emerging female artists. CAN | How do you conceive of tattoo art as a visual art like all others? MA ─ One of the most special parts of tattooing is that the art can outlive the maker but very rarely is preserved beyond the life of the canvas. Which makes it basically impossible to reproduce, commodify, outsource, auction-off, or display in galleries. All of the commercialized aspects of the fine art industry aren’t applicable in this space. Art that lives on a body is subject to the same repressions that the body is subjected to. Tattooing is an ancient ritual practice of Black and Indigenous peoples from around the world. In a culture that values purity and whiteness so highly, classist and racist structures bar us from looking at tattooing as something dignified. Western cultures signify the body as a form of power, using ability, age, gender presentation, colour, and size as metrics of value. Marginalized and rebellious communities such as sailors and sex workers have used tattooing as an expression of both bodily acceptance and revolt. Madeline Audsley The body is a political site, which makes any form of art that embraces it, like tattooing or piercing, a highly contested and repressed form. The duality of the nature of tattooing as Black and Indigenous expression, and its inability to be commodified, makes it dangerous to a Western capitalist system that relies upon the commodification of nonwhite cultures and labour. CAN | What has been your experience of the negative stigma associated with tattoo art and how has this changed since you started as a tattoo artist? AA ─ I'm a 21-year-old self-taught tattoo artist who began roughly two years ago. I used to be a bit of a skeptic of the tattoo industry since all I saw was dark and grunge styles, which isn't my personal taste. I was also anxious about how the industry viewed female tattoo artists and how I would possibly be put under certain pressures. However, after I dived headfirst into this world, I quickly discovered a wide range of styles and people who genuinely cared about the art they created and the people they gave it to! Even though I still see this negative stigma—unfortunately, even in my own life—I believe the stigma linked with tattoo art has begun to relax in recent years. Tattooing is still sometimes considered as a “dark” and “evil” thing because it is a form of body alteration. I've lost friends and have had to deal with the fact that not everyone will agree with what I do. Audrey App Even though it's been a little less than two years, I've watched tattooing evolve in a beautiful way. As I create what I love, I’m finding a breathable freedom that allows me to really connect with my clients and myself. I truly believe us humans are pieces of art, and because of that, we create beautiful art. CAN | How do you conceive of the current state of tattoo art as a visual art? EA ─ I think tattooing is in the late phases of a rebirth, which started with the democratization of education via social media. Although the future of tattooing is uncertain, I see it blossoming into something it never was. We’re in a golden era of tattooing where tropes and traditions are bent and sometimes broken. I’m inspired by the tattooists that push the boundaries of what tattooing can be while still making tattoos that last for the life of the wearer. Emma Anderson CAN | What has been your experience of the negative stigma associated with tattoo art and how has this changed since you started as a tattoo artist? HA ─ I’ve been tattooing all over the United States for 16 years, and I think that tattoo stigmas have settled down since tattoo shows became popular, which was a good thing for some, and bad for others. I find it amusing to let others think I’m a ''bad boy” just because I have some scribbles on my body. On the other side of that, it can easily affect people's perception of you in relation to substance abuse. When I was 19 years old, I broke my spine. I was lying in the hospital in immense pain, and the medical professionals said to me, “I think we are going to only give you small amounts of painkillers because you look like a drug addict, you know, because you have a lot of tattoos.” Things are different everywhere, but I think it’s narrow-minded to complain about the “discrimination” you get from having tattoos because we knew the deal when we got them. Haley Adams CAN | How do you conceive of tattoo art as a visual art like all others? HA ─ Tattooing is different from a lot of visual art since it’s on a living, breathing body that has the freewill to go where it pleases. We have to make sure our art looks good on all these weird 3D shapes. Is tattooing struggling to be appreciated? I think tattooers and serious collectors live in a counter-culture where we absolutely appreciate art and will fly all over to collect pieces. It doesn’t have to be mainstream to feel appreciated. I feel appreciated; I feel like my work is appreciated. Certain people definitely do fine art on the skin; there’s all kinds of styles and all kinds of appreciation. Art doesn’t have to be in a gallery to be loved and respected.” CAN | How do you conceive of tattoo art as a visual art like all others? RU ─ I have already started to see the shift in the medium of tattooing and the industry moving towards having a whole new sub-category of fine art and being recognized as that. Just like the Sailor Jerry tattoo collectors in the world exist, so do the clients that desire to wear a painting style for their statement piece, and the more artists that enter the industry of tattooing, the less “tattooers” that replicate existing art will remain, and more originality and creativity will elevate the entire community as a whole. This has already given the industry a more reputable track record, and it’s seen almost as a high fashion to wear collections by such and such artists. That can be positive while also toeing the line of creating for everyone and that everyone deserves a chance to have their story worn. Artwork by Ryane Urie

Pablo Larraín’s "Maria" meets Angelina Jolie’s Callas Still from "Maria" “Maria follows in the footpath of its thematic predecessors─but backwards, in heels, and with great music” Words by Katarina Zeni ISSUE 14 | IN FOCUS When it comes to telling the story of a powerful woman whose humanity has been overshadowed by her fame, Director Pablo Larraín is in a league of his own. In analyzing the calamitous experiences of notable women, the filmmaker repeatedly plays upon the idea that life is a stage, yet so much of what matters in life happens offstage. In his most recent work, Maria (2024), Larraín handles the complexities of a life in the spotlight by subverting the tropes of the tragic heroine and forcing audiences to find the superseding humanity. Larraín—like other notable Hollywood filmmakers of South American heritage (Alejandro Iñárritu, Alfonso Cuarón)—is a Chilean filmmaker who got his start in the industry with internationally recognized Latin films such as Fuga (2008), Post Mortem (2010), and No (2012). Since then, Larraín has produced several English language films that have solidified his directorial and narrative styles─and his propensity for producing accidental trilogies. There’s a throughline, for example, running between his Jackie (2016), Spencer (2021), and Maria . Following the frenzied life of Jacqueline Kennedy after her husband’s assassination, Jackie ’s success revealed the public’s desire for introspective biopics that centre the lives of hyper-scrutinized women. Next was Spencer, the story and the life of Diana, Princess of Wales, who was at once a figure of establishment opulence and the subversion of the British Royal Family’s decorum. Maria follows in the footpath of its thematic predecessors─but backwards, in heels, and with great music. Backwards in the sense that the film is a retrospective on the life of renowned Greek opera singer Maria Callas who died from a heart attack at 54. Performing her first opera when she was only 17, and rewarded given a titular role the following year, Callas became a household name and a public figure with a whiplash-inducing rapidity. With a disjointedness that mirrors the sharp contrasts between Callas’s operatic characters, Maria follows the diva’s final week as she desperately tries to piece together the different stages of her life and make an unlikely comeback. Surprisingly, this biopic on a great musician is filled with music─rather than peppering in the music that made Callas great, Larraín lays it on thick with plenty of screen time for opera in all of its naked glory. Still from "Maria" Maria is Larraín’s second adaptation of accomplished screenwriter Steven Knight’s work, having previously collaborated with him on Spencer , but the two films are not all that similar. As Jackie takes place during a tragedy, and Spencer follows the events preceding one, Maria takes a more distant perspective, not on a particular tragedy but on a life filled with equal parts triumph and letdowns. Larraín’s filmography comes full circle with Maria when Callas’s last chance at romance comes to an end as her lover, Aristotle Onassis, gets married to Jackie Kennedy. Despite the splashes of world-historical figures via on-screen portrayals of Jackie and John F. Kennedy, Larraín never gives up on making this a film about Maria. The film’s glaring struggle is that Callas is depicted with compelling flair by Angelina Jolie. Jolie’s performance was perhaps a little too compelling, as the biopic becomes a visible three-way tug-o-war between Callas as a global phenomenon, Larraín’s mission to reveal the real Maria, and the gravity of Jolie’s own celebrity. Whether this struggle was intended—or the accidental result of what happens when the unstoppable force of opera’s biggest star meets the immovable object of a Hollywood icon—is something only the storytelling team can reveal. In the end, the real winner of this tug-o-war is Larraín who, somehow, made a coherent film with three main characters embodied in its titular role. INTERVIEW WITH ANGELINA JOLIE Why did you want to play Maria Callas? AJ ─ I met Pablo Larraín many years ago and told him how much I respected him as a filmmaker and hoped to work with him one day. He reached out to me about Maria , and he took the process of casting very seriously, which I appreciate. He really wants to make sure the artist is up for it and understands the job. I’m also a huge fan of writer Steven Knight’s work; it’s a very unusual script and construction. There’s a lot of bravery in the choices they’ve made in their storytelling, which says a lot about how capable they both are. I was happy that I was with a very serious filmmaker coming to me to do real work and expecting a lot of me and challenging me. That’s not always the case. It wasn’t just an opportunity to tell the story of Maria Callas, a woman I find interesting and care for, but it’s really to have a director who’s going to take you on a journey and is so serious about the work and tough on you. I like that he was tough on me! He’s a dream director, and I would want to work with him again and again. Also, I learned such a lot as a director myself, from watching him work. How much preparation did you have to do for the role? AJ ─ Well, Pablo expected me to really work very, very hard, and he expected me to sing. I went into classes six or seven months before he expected me to really sing, to take Italian classes, to understand and study opera, to immerse myself completely and do the work, which for Maria , there was no other way. The funny thing as an actor, when you first start acting, somebody says, “Can you ride horses? Can you speak this language?” And as a young actor, you say, “yes” to everything. Then you go home, and you think, “Oh, I have to learn how to sing!” When Pablo said, “Can you sing?” I thought, “I mean, sure, a little,” but the truth is, as he said to me, “You have to learn how to sing opera, or I will be able to tell when we are close on your face, because it’s who she is.” But it was much more than that, it was to understand Maria Callas and be able to play the character. The music was her life. Her relationship to her voice and her body, her ability to sing, her presence on stage and her communication with the audience, it was her life. It was the key to her as well. How was the experience of learning how to sing that way? AJ ─ To be very candid, it was the therapy I didn’t realize I needed. I had no idea how much I was holding in and not letting out. So, the challenge wasn’t the technical, it was an emotional experience to find my voice, to be in my body, to express. You have to give every single part of yourself. When opera singers express pain, it’s not like a little bit, it’s the biggest depth. It requires everything that you’ve got. It requires your full body, and it requires you to be full emotionally, as open and as loud, in as big a voice as you can possibly do. Has your relationship with opera changed? Do you enjoy it? AJ ─ I have such a love of opera now, a real true love of opera, and I have it in my life now in a different way. I go now and I sit through it and let it overtake me and affect me. There’s something about opera that I hadn’t understood before. I think we do sometimes see it as an elitist thing that’s separate from us. It’s so huge. But maybe you have to go through certain things in life that have the depth of that pain or the depth of that love, where you now understand and need the size and feeling of opera. Still from "Maria" It must have been quite an experience to perform these scenes, often alongside a full orchestra. What was that like for you? AJ ─ It was transformative as an artist and a human being, as I’ve not been involved with music for so much of my life. I didn’t play music, in part because like a lot of parents, I’m often listening to what other people want to listen to. I don’t think I’d ever given myself music and had let it slide away from my life. So, to be reintroduced to music in such a complete way, and then to be surrounded by musicians, to be on set with other pianists, singers, the entire orchestra, I think I fell in love with it and became very small. I felt just grateful to be awakened to it again. I really believe in the benefits of music therapy these days. And to be standing in some of these locations, I just felt like I was the luckiest artist in the world. There’s one thing having scenes where you’re expressing emotion and pain as an artist—there’s quite another thing when you’re surrounded by the musicians playing that pain. Through the miracle of technology, your voice was combined with the voice of Maria Callas in Maria . How did that influence your performance? AJ ─ Well, the good news about playing Maria Callas is nobody expects you to sing Maria Callas because nobody in the world can sing Maria Callas, right? Nobody at her time could match her, and it would be a crime to not have her voice through this, because in many ways, she is very present in this film. Her voice and her art are very present. She’s the partner in this film with me; she and I are doing this together. It was an honor and sometimes a bit of a head trip to be me playing her and us playing a third person on stage. As an actor, I wasn’t doing my performance of say, Anna Bolena, but Maria’s. It was me trying to understand why she made those performance choices. I’ve never played a performer before. As I would learn of her choices, I just became more of a fan of her work. She was also a brilliant actor. Still from Maria You mention it was both you and Maria Callas on stage. How do you feel about her now, having spent so much time with this character? AJ ─ I care for her deeply. I’m very moved by her, and I’m so happy we had the opportunity to show her as a human being. There’s something I learned about her, that she couldn’t see. When someone looked at the prescription glasses that she wore later in her life, they said to Pablo, “That lens, that prescription, this person’s almost legally blind.” Wow. When she was young, she couldn’t wear those glasses and be on stage. It wasn’t accepted, so she had to memorize everything very differently. When you understand that, you see this person’s survival instinct. It wasn’t that she just wanted to be this; she had to survive and hide it and find a way around it and work twice as hard. Maria was pushed into singing as a young person by her mother, and when she was able to give it everything she had and be her best, she communicated something to people that was transformative. But as she got older and made choices in her life and different things happened, that same audience punished her for not being able to do that for them anymore. She had an enormous amount of pressure on her. And I think she was a very sensitive person. You can’t express the emotion she expressed without great sensitivity. Although it’s a different era, is this another example of women in the spotlight suffering harsher criticism than men? AJ ─ That’s just what happens when you have that level of success, and I think Maria understood that. She worked very, very hard to do her job. She understood that if she stood in front of people and they came out to see her, she had to be as close to perfect as she could be. She wanted to give everything she had, and she really did give everything she had fighting through different things. It couldn’t have been easy to have a relationship with a mother who calls you names and tells you you’re not good enough. I just can’t imagine it because so much of what helped me be okay in life was having the kindness of my own mother. The film is about her relationship to her voice and her pain and her deep love. Her true love is her music. The film’s supporting actors include Pierfrancesco Favino, Valeria Golino, Alba Rohrwacher, Kodi Smit-McPhee and Haluk Bilginer. What did you enjoy about working with them? AJ ─ The interesting thing is, we were all playing real people, and these were real relationships. Ferruccio the butler, who Pierfrancesco plays, he’s still alive, and he’s never sold stories about Maria to the press. He shared some thoughts and stories with us but didn’t want to come to set. It’s beautiful to know that she had a few people at the end of her life who really loved her, and I’m so happy the film honors them because of what wonderful people they were who understood her. And in a funny way, I think without saying it, the other actors took care of me. I could feel their support. I could feel the support, the care, the nurture when I had to do very emotional things. Their genuine kindness and compassion were real. This interview is published in collaboration with MUBI

Self-Portrait as a Coffee Pot From Episode 7 "Metamorphosis" of Self Portrait INTERVIEW — A complicated portrait of William Kentridge plays out in this 9-part series presented by MUBI Words by Derek Manderson | Interview by Michael Zarathus-Cook ISSUE 15 | IN FOCUS From one of the art world’s most inimitable figures, MUBI ’s Self-Portrait as a Coffee Pot offers a compelling glimpse into the psyche and studio space of William Kentridge. A mesmerising dance of creative ideation, the nine-part series is the direct result of pairing a prolific, political artist with the isolated rumination of the COVID pandemic. Packed with fleeting vignettes, collaborative performances, and historical narratives of greed and apartheid in Johannesburg, Kentridge imparts more aimless contemplations than self-portraits. And really, that is the point. The series is produced in Kentridge’s typical style; charcoal etchings and paintings swirl together with animations, projections, and impressive camera work to achieve a surreal blend of reality. The striking images are matched with intimate sound design, featuring the sweeping winds of empty landscapes, the crowded bustle of the streets, and ASMR-inducing foley work of charcoal scratching, paper fluttering, and paint splashing. In each episode, Kentridge marries a piece of artistic practice or theory with musings about identity, the world, and, most importantly, the studio. Indeed, a critical step in dissecting Kentridge’s work is understanding the chaos of the studio and its many parallels to his personal context growing up as a child of anti-apartheid Jewish South African barristers. From Episode 1 "A Natural History of the Studio" of Self Portrait So why the coffee pot? For Kentridge, it is a sort of stand-in for what he feels is an impossibly difficult task, a likeness that is altogether devoid of meaning and yet filled with it. As he wryly remarks in the second episode, “whether the drawing looks like me or doesn’t look like me is not really the heart of it… I should have bought one of those books on how to draw the human face. Then I wouldn’t have to hide behind a coffee pot.” From Episode 8 "Oh To Believe in Another World" of Self Portrait But there isn’t very much hiding from Kentridge in this series─it’s quite the opposite. In frequently recurring static shots, Kentridge enters the scene as a double of himself, appearing on either side of a table like a set of twins. He uses this doubleness to engage in rigorous debate and self-analysis, whereupon he frequently pokes at and disagrees with his other persona. It is a clever device for illuminating the challenge of painting a truly representational self-portrait in all its scattered contradictions, especially when the claustrophobic isolation of the pandemic amplifies internal doubt. The doubling also allows Kentridge to play both philosopher and critic; in response to his own string of postulations about the nature of memory and what is concretely knowable about the past, he responds to himself, “these are nonquestions.” In the final episode, Kentridge orders himself to cut out scenes that have very little purpose, to which he declares: “Sometimes what is not needed is essential. If everything is in position and logical, then we aren’t showing the studio.” Then comes the blunt response from his alter ego: “That is a very easy and, if I might say, feeble excuse.” From Episode 3 "Vanishing Points" of Self Portrait His self-reproach is a sly defence against outward critique, certainly developed from a lengthy career in the art world. In a particularly revealing confessional, Kentridge admits that much of how he sees himself is filtered through the public perception of his work. It is no wonder then, that he finds it so difficult to separate his own thoughts from how they might be received. "The Moment Has Gone" Drawing by William Kentridge While his deflection is convincing enough to encourage my engagement with the fragmentary mess of the studio, I am inclined to agree with Kentridge’s critical persona at times. The lengthy series is not without pacing troubles, where searching for the point is a provocative yet demanding task. More importantly, as much as Kentridge attempts to obfuscate such a critique, the lines between self-portrait and self-indulgence are sometimes blurred. He seems to revel in the introspective tête-à-tête, clouding his genuinely stimulating meditations with an excess of navel-gazing. Regardless of these gripes, Self-Portrait as a Coffee Pot is an insightful picture of the manifold connections, influences, and paradoxes that weave into the fabric of the self. If anything, its many unanswered questions will sufficiently and existentially complicate things for me the next time I try to take a selfie in “portrait mode.” CANNOPY x William Kentridge

JULIAN LAGE Julian Lage by Shervin Lainez On Layers, View with a Room, the gritty warmth of his guitar sound Words By Caleb Freeman | Photography By Shervin Lainez ISSUE 12 | NEW JERSEY | ELLINGTON There is a sense of wide-eyed curiosity in Julian Lage when he discusses music. It’s an endearing quality coming from the accomplished guitarist and former childhood prodigy, who once played the Grammys at age 12. Last year, Lage released the acclaimed album View with a Room , his second release for Blue Note Records and his third as a trio with bassist Jorge Roeder and drummer Dave King. The ten-song collection featured the addition of guitar icon Bill Frisell and was produced by singer-songwriter Margaret Glaspy; it was recorded by Mark Goodell with additional production by Armand Hirsch. For Lage, View with a Room was an exploration, an attempt to “widen the aperture” of a trio record. He has described it as a “kind of seven-person art project” that attempted to balance lush orchestration with an “organic sense of improvisation and the agility of a small ensemble.” The result was a vibrant collection — infused with blues and swing — that highlighted the trio’s skill and versatility while also showcasing the evolution of their sound through their collaboration with Frisell. Lage’s newest album, Layers , is a continuation of the experimental voyage he embarked on with View with a Room . A companion album to View , Layers has “all the musical seeds” of its predecessor, according to Lage─the same collaborators, the same vibrancy and sense of exploration. But at its core, the six-song collection is its own creation. It is sparser and more ethereal, more conversational in its expanded focus. Half of the songs find Lage playing an acoustic guitar, a further departure from last year’s record. The collection is another captivating release, one that stands on its own but also sheds new light on its companion. CANNOPY x Julian Lage Julian Lage by Kalya Ramu Companions CAN | The Layers is a companion to your recent album, View With a Room . This is a formula we’ve seen before with Live in Los Angeles , which was a companion to Arclight . Do you conceive of these companion albums as B-sides to their predecessors, or as expressions of something new, but in the same language? JL ─ In making View with a Room , I wrote a lot of songs and then whittled the album down to about 16. There was a time where Layers was gonna be a 70-80 minute record, kind of like an epic journey. As an experiment, I separated them and said, “Well, suppose the things that are the connective tissue were not used as connective tissue, but as a standalone experience?” And I loved it. That’s how Layers came about. I wouldn’t say they’re B-sides at all, they just originally served a different function. It’s a kind of re-contextualization. Expansion x Distillation CAN | Although there are relatively more layers to this album, it sounds more spare than View with a Room . One of the layers you added to your trio was the guitarist Bill Frisell, and that addition allowed you to achieve “the Technicolor experience” you’ve been searching for. What extra layer of dialogue were you interested in pursuing with this larger role you’ve created for Frisell? JL ─ I think Bill brings interaction. Fundamentally, there is a communication, a trust that I cherish very much. In terms of him expanding the record into the Technicolor experience, especially with Layers , we are leveraging the power of more guitar information. When that energy is shared with two guitars, suddenly that lead guitar voice is more complex. Not only emotionally, but also in terms of overtones. So you’ve got the relationship with Bill that expands the guitar, and then you’ve got the orchestration of two guitars that expands the picture. Improvising Atmosphere CAN | The Layers seems to exist at the intersection of jazz and classical idioms, in terms of balancing improvisation and orchestration and replacing oration with atmosphere. What do you find most interesting about keeping the element of improvisation, while also approaching a diffused atmospheric sound? JL ─ What I’m struck by in listening to the difference between View and Layers is that I think even more of my voice and the band’s voice comes through when there is an atmosphere. With full humility, what I learned in making those two records is that you can use atmosphere and space as a means of revealing character. You can improvise atmosphere. You can improvise context. It’s almost like improvising lighting design: it casts a big light, but it’s ephemeral. You can’t say why it’s having the effect it’s having. Music Videos CAN | You took a unique approach to the music videos, with six videos for VEVO all recorded live and in one continuous setting, utilizing really fluid camerawork. How did this concept evolve, and how does this approach capture the improvisational element of this album for you? JL ─ I think there’s value in presenting two interpretations. You add them together and you get the picture that reveals the studio recording as more deliberate and the video recording as more fluid, more spontaneous, or maybe containing more risk. There’s no law that says you should only hear improvised music, that you shouldn’t see it. With video, and especially camera movement under the direction of Alex Chaloff, who made those videos, I think that tells the story. You go, “Oh wow, these people are doing it in real time!” It’s part of the drama, so why hide it? We like to celebrate it. Gritty Warmth CAN | There’s an impulse to describe your sound as easy listening or lounge jazz, but there’s a volatility to the guitar sound that makes it step into the foreground. You’ve described that sound as “subdued and warm, but also gritty.” It’s the grittiness that sounds novel, as “subdued and warm” has been done before─John Scofield in particular comes to mind. What do you appreciate most about that nervous excitability in the sound you’re chasing? JL ─ The balance that is struck has a lot to do with the guitar sound, but it also has a lot to do, in my opinion, with the context you put it in. If I were in a much louder band, I probably would live more on the grittier side because I would have to live at that threshold of the guitar. Context, to me, is probably of even more interest than the actual sound. The guitar is responding to the context. If the context is liberated and there’s room to ratchet it up or down, you’ll hear those features. Community CAN | Concert venues can sometimes feel coldly transactional, but in some of your concerts for View the venue doors were open about an hour beforehand for fans to show up with or without guitars, and engage in conversations with you about the instrument and your work in general. What inspired you to create this communal space, and how does that change the atmosphere of the concert that follows? JL ─ I have the same curiosity about it. What occurred to me, and my management, and everyone involved, was that the guitar community has a certain spirit of wanting to help one another. Even if you’ve been playing a long time, it doesn’t mean you’re any less privy to the pursuits of someone who’s newer to the instrument. It’s been very humbling for me to learn. I’m in a privileged position to hold space for conversation, and that’s by virtue of being allowed in that venue for that night to put on a show. I love it. I think it’s very grounding, and seemingly impactful for those who come. Or at least that’s the hope. The Great Glaspy CAN | The music of your wife Margaret Glaspy — whose latest album, Echo the Diamond , is out in August — is in a completely different neighbourhood from yours, and yet there’s a shared musical zip code that’s particularly notable in her approach to producing Layers . What sort of creative liberation do you find in having someone who understands you in so many different ways join you in the recording studio? JL ─ With Margaret, I know she knows me and I don’t have to explain it. I don’t have to prove it. I can just follow my nose, play the guitar, and do my best as a musician in this production. I trust that she’ll see the overarching picture and say, “Oh, I kind of lost you there because this other thing took precedent,” and that she’ll be able to hang on to that perspective when I do a take where I think, “Surely I blew it.” And it’s the classic thing, but it’s so often been true of her to be like, “That was it. That was totally your DNA. Anything that you thought took you out of the music didn’t take us outta the music on this side of the glass.” That’s incredibly valuable.

Chad Lawson Chad Lawson By Neil Krug With breathe, the pianist and composer delivers beautiful music for a crazy world WORDS BY EMILY PITTMAN | PHOTOGRAPHY BY NEIL KRUG | NEW YORK | THE smART ENSEMBLE Feb 28, 2023 | ISSUE 11 RE:BREATHING sM | You recorded the pieces on breathe both as solo works and with the RPO, how does the concept of breathing alone and breathing together inform your compositional process? CL ── I‘ve always been a solo pianist as far as how I think about things, but I wanted there to be more colour in this release. What I wanted to do initially was to have the album be programmatic, so the very first song would‘ve been on solo piano, the second song would‘ve been a duet, then a trio, then quartet─and just grow from there. You‘re letting go of everything that you‘ve been carrying, and you‘re bringing people in to help you let go of that. It worked out to where we could create with this massive orchestra ... and I‘m not gonna turn down the idea of doing all these songs with the RPO. When we all came together, not to be cliché, it was the most magical experience I‘ve ever had. We had these two years of being completely alone, and now you‘re surrounded with the most beautiful sound in the world. You have everyone come back together again, and it is this huge exhale. That was the whole purpose of the album, breathe . I wanted to create something where people could close their eyes and just exhale what they‘re carrying. As you leave this door going back out into the world, what things are you gonna leave behind? What things are you not going to pick up on your way out? That‘s what this album is.