Nils Frahm’s Music For Animal Nils Frahm ©LEITER “When you have animals, you probably know that they react to music.” WORDS BY REBECCA LASHMAR | BERLIN | MUSIC MAR 13, 2023 | ISSUE 10 German musician and composer Nils Frahm is known for combining classical piano with electric experimentation and beyond. From his vivid scoring for cinematic experiences like Victoria (2015) , to multi-artist collaborations like Piano Day Volume 1 , his career continues to expand outward. Nils opens up about the artistic challenges of touring, giving undiscovered artists a platform, and why his latest album, Music for Animals , is perfect for both you and your canine companions to chill out to.

Mischa Maisky in Toronto Mischa Maisky by Kalya Ramu “The only thing I try to do is to destroy Bach’s music as little as possible.” WORDS BY ARLAN VRIENS | TORONTO | MUSIC NOV 14, 2022 | ISSUE 9 “I haven’t discovered the feeling of boredom yet,” chuckles Mischa Maisky. “Bach is never boring at all!” This continuing musical curiosity has no doubt served to cement Maisky’s position as one of the foremost cellists of the 20th and 21st centuries. After formative studies with industry legends Mstislav Rostropovich and Gregor Piatigorsky, he forged a career in collaboration with the highest-profile names in classical music, championing robust, personal interpretations of the core cello repertoire and beyond. Speaking with smART Magazine Editor in Chief Michael Zarathus-Cook, Maisky considers his lifelong relationship with Bach’s cello suites and weighs in on the state of contemporary cello performance.

Off the Record: The Vernon Spring The Vernon Spring, Under a Familiar Sun. Photography by Saoirse Fitzpatrick. INTERVIEW ─ On his latest release, “Under a Familiar Sun”, Sam Beste delivers a deeply empathic pianistic jazztronica Words by Caleb Freeman | Photography by Saoirse Fitzpatrick | Interview by Michael Zarathus-Cook ISSUE 15 | BRIGHTON | ELLINGTON Latest Release “The so-called ‘other’ reverberates in me: you,” recites the poet Max Porter on “The Breadline”, accompanied by cello and warm impressionistic piano that echoes, pauses, and morphs into new phrases. This line from the second track of The Vernon Spring’s newest record, Under a Familiar Sun, powerfully captures the existential mediation that spans the album, a warm, experimental and often beautiful work that explores how we connect with others, both on a personal and global level. For Sam Beste, the London-raised pianist, composer and producer behind The Vernon Spring, Porter’s contribution helped to create a conceptual framework for this album, which has been several years in the making. As a young musician, Beste got his start as the live pianist for Amy Winehouse and as part of the neo-soul band Hejira. In 2016, he co-founded Lima Limo, a label and artist collective with a mission of helping cultivate community for music makers. Several years later, Beste began uploading singles online as The Vernon Spring, with his debut record A Plane Over Woods releasing in 2021, followed by Earth, on a Good Day in 2022. The Vernon Spring , Under a Familiar Sun. Photograph by Saoirse Fitzpatrick. The Vernon Spring’s music tends to be a piano-forward melange of jazz, classical, ambient and electronic. Under a Familiar Sun continues this aesthetic but also builds upon it, leaning into the electronic elements and, inspired by co-producer and collaborator Iko Niche, adopting a more sample-driven, hip-hop-influenced approach. In addition to Beste’s felted piano are 808s, synthesizers, archival field recordings, snippets of previously unused instrumentation, and audio of his kids. Vocals and instruments are fragmented, looped, processed and layered: a kaleidoscope of sounds that, as in the opening track “Norton”, dazzles without disorienting. The record is also deeply collaborative. As a session musician, Beste has worked with a range of artists, including Beth Orton, Kano, MF Doom, Matthew Herbert. Yet, in line with the community-focused ethos of Lima Limo, the collaborations on Under a Familiar Sun feel more homegrown. Among Beste’s eclectic crew of contributors are producer Iko Niche, poet Max Porter, cellist Kate Ellis, former bandmate Calum Duncan, and aden, a producer, writer, and PhD candidate in astrophysics. These creative partnerships were fostered, at least in part, online, with Beste sending instrumentals and his collaborators responding with their own contributions. The Vernon Spring , Under a Familiar Sun. Photograph by Saoirse Fitzpatrick. Beste’s family is also a strong influence on Under a Familiar Sun. The album was partly recorded in his home studio in Brighton, where he moved with his partner, Saoirse Fitzpatrick, and children in 2021. The picture at the centre of the album’s cover—designed by the artist Eric Timothy Carlson, who created the cover for Bon Iver’s 22, A million and whose work also served as an inspiration for Under a Familiar Sun —was taken by Fitzpatrick: a sun-drenched photo of Beste and his three children playing in the ocean. As Beste puts it, the record is “an intimate exploration of domesticity” amidst a broader meditation on “global responsibility in an age of moral uncertainty.” Songs like “In the Middle”, with its gorgeous instrumentation by Beste and Ellis and repeated refrain of “In the middle of the night, that’s when I see you best”, captures the intimacy of creating a life with one’s partner, of being with them in the odd hours when no one else is around, the gratitude for such closeness. At the same time, the current global context creates a dissonance, with conflicts beginning and escalating worldwide, unchecked by the entrenched apparatus of international peacekeepers. In the visualizer for the “Requiem for Reem”, text reads: “All of these names, in order of age, each of them as precious as my sons”, a testament to the many child casualties in Gaza. The Vernon Spring , Under a Familiar Sun. Photograph by Saoirse Fitzpatrick. It is in this context that Porter’s poetic contribution to the record is fully realized. Under a Familiar Sun is an exercise in empathy, an artistic statement of humanity and solidarity grappling with the perimeters of human connection. It is a record that confronts difficult questions—how one can reconcile domestic happiness and love for community with the loss, violence, alienation and disillusionment born of current global events. Yet, it does so with warmth and gratitude. The record captures sonically the synaptic overload of trying to make sense of our world. Still, it is ultimately hopeful, highlighting the beauty of life and the sense that, in the end, there is more that connects than divides us.

In One Ear, and Out the Other Vincent Van Gogh by Jeremy Lewis Separating tall tales from truth in the case of van Gogh’s ill-fated ear WORDS BY SHERENE ALMJAWER & MICHAEL ZARATHUS-COOK | ROME NOV 28, 2022 | ISSUE 8 Avid admirers of Vincent van Gogh could no doubt describe Self-Portrait with Bandaged Ear in great detail. He sits in solemn contemplation, a thick blue cap concealing his now infamous red hair. Penetrating, still blue eyes gaze out from a hauntingly gaunt face. An open window, a Japanese print, and a canvas on an easel wait patiently behind him. And, as the work’s title suggests, a bandage swaddles his ear. Which ear, you ask? That, to this day, is a hotly debated detail. van Gogh gifted us with an extraordinary insight into his artistic process and psychological state; a swathe of hand-written letters between himself and correspondents deftly piece together the pivotal details of his life. However, conflicting witness accounts (alongside the impishly perplexing self-portrait) have planted seeds of doubt regarding the specifics of his notorious self-mutilation. Not only do we doubt which ear was chosen for the razor-blade guillotine, but we are also left questioning how much was removed, who removed it, and who received the bloody reward after the fact. One thing is certain; people are still hunting for the truth, and are keeping their ears to the ground for clues to this day. Let’s begin with the question of which ear he chose for the chopping block. Several reputable resources, including the official Van Gogh Museum of the Netherlands, The Courtauld Institute of Art, and The History Channel, confidently affirm that the severed ear was his left . However, on viewing the portrait itself, it seems obvious that the chosen ear was his right. To unpack these conflicting messages, we must consider what we know of van Gogh as an artist. van Gogh painted some 36 self-portraits over the course of 10 years, but not out of vanity. At the time, hiring models to sit for portraits was too expensive an option for the impoverished artist. Therefore, in order to hone his skills as a portraitist, he used himself as a model, a cheap and effective alternative which allowed him to master the craft. It has therefore been argued, and widely accepted, that by painting himself using a mirror, our eye has been tricked by the mirror-image that we are receiving, and we therefore falsely believe that the damaged ear is on the right side, not the left. This has been a point of confusion and debate for decades. Over 30 years ago, tucked between advertisements for Broadway shows, among a flurry of letters discussing politics, Palestine, andFranz Schubert’s sexuality, lies an example of the relentless dispute between left and right in the pages of The New York Times . On September 17th 1989, the paper posted a response on their Letters page from reader Scott A. Bailey, remarking on a recent article by John Russell entitled “The Ear in the Mirror.” Bailey argues that Russell is “in error” by stating that the severed ear was the right, asserting that, “in the days following his self-mutilation, van Gogh painted his self-portraits in front of a mirror. Hence, bearing the reverse image.” Bailey’s response to Russell’s article does raise another interesting question; he goes on to state that van Gogh removed “the lower lobe” of the ear. However, owing to the work of art historian and author Bernadette Murphy, we now know more. At first, it appeared that contrasting witness accounts, from that time, were the only pieces of evidence at our disposal. Some claimed it was only the lobe that was removed, while others believed it to be the entire appendage. Revelatory new evidence came to light when Murphy released her book, Van Gogh’s Ear , in 2016, claiming she had unearthed a vital document while investigating the archives of Irving Stone. Stone was an American writer, who had travelled to Arles, France in 1930 to interview van Gogh’s doctor, Félix Rey, hoping to gain information for his upcoming novel, Lust For Life . While searching through Stone’s archives, Murphy discovered a sketch penned by Dr. Rey himself; having torn a scrap of prescription paper from its pad, Rey illustrated the arc of van Gogh’s wound. The drawing clearly indicates that almost the entire ear was removed. As previously mentioned, several witness accounts from the time had suggested otherwise. A particularly pertinent letter from French artist Paul Signac was written after visiting van Gogh in hospital and claimed that it was the lobe only, and “not the whole ear”. However, when revisiting that letter, Murphy found one line stating that on his visit, van Gogh was “dressed as usual, wearing a band round his head and a fur cap.” During a talk at the Morrison Library at UC Berkeley, Murphy unveiled that it was at this point that she realized no-one had ever seen the ear uncovered, rendering Signac’s assertion that it was only the lobe to be unsubstantiated. Some might wonder at the relevance of this new information. In a blog article for The Arts Newspaper online, Martin Bailey rightly states that, “the main point is that van Gogh was in such a disturbed state that he severely mutilated himself. But it would still be instructive to know the extent of his injury. If it was the entire ear, it suggests that van Gogh was determined to cause maximum damage and possibly death. If it was just part of the ear, it could have been more of a plea for help.” Extensive research, alternative theories, and new information help us piece together parts of van Gogh’s psyche that allow us to appreciate and understand the artist in new ways. Additional facts surrounding the event have been contested over the years. While most believe that this was an act of self-harm, two reputable German academics, Hans Kaufmann and Rita Wildegans, published a book in 2008 offering an alternative theory. In Van Gogh’s Ear: Paul Gauguin and the Pact of Silence , they argue that Gauguin severed the ear with a sword and that the two artists had kept the truth a secret from the world. There has also been doubt cast upon who van Gogh gave his ear to. Murphy addresses this point in Van Gogh’s Ear , claiming that, contrary to popular belief, the artist did not bestow his ear upon a local sex worker named Rachel, who was employed at a local Maison de Tolérance. Instead, Murphy states that he bestowed the trophy upon a maid named Gabrielle who worked in a brothel in Arles. This would seem to contradict information from other sources, such as the Van Gogh Museum and the Van Gogh Gallery online. Writer Adam Gopnik, in a 2009 article for The New Yorker entitled “Van Gogh’s Ear,” discusses Kaufmann and Wildegan’s book, arguing the following point; “It’s tempting, and not altogether wrong, to dismiss the question as trivial, or beside the point. But ears do not haunt ages without reasons.” The incessant deliberation, investigation and intrigue in this case proves that we are not yet satisfied on all points of this bloody story. Additionally, the legend of this historic event continues to permeate our everyday lives, our artistry, and our cultural spaces. On Whiskey Row in Prescott, Arizona, you can find the Van Gogh’s Ear art gallery. In Union, New Jersey, you may step inside the Van Gogh’s Ear café for an evening of good food and live music. And just this year, Paste Magazine named American rapper and painter ZelooperZ’s newest work, entitled Van Gogh’s Left Ear , one of the best new albums of 2021. ZelooperZ’s album art pays tribute to van Gogh’s self-portrait, a bloodstained, contemporary rendition of the original set against a swirling backdrop of Starry Night . However, ZelooperZ has switched the direction of the subject around; he is facing left, with the blood-soaked bandage seeping into the stark white fabric of his left shoulder. Is this, too, a mirror image? Is the picture we’re viewing a reflection, an impish trick leading us to believe the opposite of what is true? The subject stares steadily outwards with a stoic, unreadable expression; perhaps he’ll keep this secret to himself, and let us revel in the joy of discovery on the road to the truth.

Profile: Anora Mark Eydelshteyn and Mikey Madison in 'Anora.' Contextualizing Sean Baker’s latest film within cinema’s history of sex-positive self-actualizing female leads Words by Gabriel Frieberg ISSUE 15 | IN FOCUS In Sean Baker’s new film Anora , it’s Mikey Madison's brassy, audacious, star-making performance that hits you first. But equally impressive is its tonal complexity—a mix of beats both familiar and new, combined with subversive twists both classical and modern. Pitched as Pretty Woman by way of the Safdie Brothers, there’s something to that comparison, as Anora sprints down a more volatile path than the 1990 Richard Gere, Julia Roberts film. Whereas Pretty Woman told a neat Cinderella story, Anora flirts with and then mocks that idea. In fact, the film’s been marketed with Variety ’s pull quote: "makes Pretty Woman look like a Disney movie." There’s an undeniable fairytale quality to Anora , but it’s spiked with a volatile sense of danger and unpredictability. The film thrums with electricity, keeping you on your toes while also pulling you deeper into the lead character’s tumultuous journey. Madison’s portrayal of Anora, a sex worker trying to navigate the chaos that engulfs her life, makes you root for her as she loses terra firma and spirals out of control. This intoxicating, uneasy balance between dreamlike fantasy and gritty realism helps Anora find its edge. How Anora deftly navigates its tonal shifts—feeling like five movies in one—without losing its core identity is remarkable. The first act plays like a sex-positive rom-com, as Anora is swept off her feet for a Vegas-set whirlwind romance. It’s too ideal, too dazzling, and this false sense of security leads to manic whiplash as the bill comes due, and we downshift from carefree romance to farcical crime thriller. Here, Sean Baker channels the absurdity and dark humor of the Coen brothers, laced with outer-borough NYC rawness. That energy carries over to Anora ’s next evolution, into a one-crazy-night-in-New York caper in the vein of classics like Martin Scorsese’s After Hours or Spike Lee’s 25th Hour . Gradually, Anora is changing before our eyes. No longer the wide-eyed dreamer, but a woman slowly hardening to her circumstances and the inevitable crush of power. This is a smart, deliberate evolution, as Anora begins to align more with her gangsters than with the naive lover she initially fell for. Baker pushes the film past the standard tropes of these kinds of narratives, refusing to flatten Anora into a stereotype or an object of pity. Just as we finally think we know who Anora is—a bawdy firecracker, a hopeful dreamer, a rebel, a victim of circumstance—the film shifts again, and we get perhaps our truest understanding of the character. The final act embraces a melancholic wistfulness and sense of longing reminiscent of Wong Kar-wai. The manic energy of earlier scenes gives way to a slower, more meditative pace, allowing the emotional weight of the experience to hit us like a ton of bricks. Sean Baker’s oeuvre is known for emotional devastation, and Anora is no exception. Yet, the feeling here is tinged with hope. The ambiguous ending leaves us wondering what the future holds for Anora, but her resilience is undeniable. Despite (or even because of) everything that’s transpired, you know Anora will live to fight another day. Her moxie, her steel, and her sense of self are all strengthened. In this sense, Anora most closely evokes Federico Fellini’s 1957 film Nights of Cabiria , starring his eternal love, the unforgettable Giulietta Masina. Like Anora, Masina’s Cabiria contends with the best and worst of humanity, but her perseverance carries her ever onward. Both characters endure betrayals and hardships, yet their resilience and determination make them indelible figures.

1, 2, TEAM WITH JENN WASNER Jenn Wasner - Photo by Graham Tolbert On Flock of Dimes, Bon Iver, and Wye Oak’s Every Day Like the Last smART MAGAZINE | DURHAM | ALT.ITUDE JUL 04, 2023 | ISSUE 12 1: FLOCK OF DIMES IDEATION sM | What was the creative space you were inhabiting around the time you created the Flock of Dimes project? JW ─ Not only do I remember it, but I am in the thick of it once again. It’s so funny, I’ve been doing this for long enough that I’m starting to be humbled by how much having a creative practice is just forgetting and relearning things you thought you already knew. I had never really experienced the freedom of being outside of Wye Oak and understand a little better who I am and what I have to say, so I felt this call to step outside of that. And in the process of making that first Flock of Dimes record, If You See Me Say Yes , I had a total fucking meltdown. That was the first time in my career that I felt like I learned a lesson that I’m learning again now. Being alone, you have all this power, this autonomy, this freedom. But you forget, or I forgot, all of the support, assistance, and inspiration that comes from being in a relationship. There has to be space for you to be this separate autonomous artist, but to try and create in a vacuum forever and to try and hold the reins too tightly is doing your art and yourself a great disservice.

The Choreography Within A Dancer Reclaims His Body by Finally Sitting Still WORDS BY MARTIN AUSTIN 07-Nov-22 One hemisphere of my pelvis is above and in front of the other. I imagine it floating there in my body, untethered, out of my control. Every morning I sit at the edge of my bed and grip my right knee to “pop” my leg back into the socket; as my pelvis always wiggles away from me while I sleep. I wasn’t born this way. In my first year at The Ailey School, I was invited to audition for the junior touring company, Ailey II. I was so eager to impress that I brought my arabesque much higher than my body could accommodate. A sharp pain shot through my body, one that I ignored without a second thought exactly as I had been trained to do all my life. Looking back, I wish I had heeded my body’s warning. But how could I have known? At that time, considering the possible consequences, or even considering anything beyond the world of dance, proved difficult. In fact, my world outside of dance – anything outside my own body – had always...

Off The Record: Peter Gregson on Peter Gregson Peter Gregson The Scottish composer, producer, and cellist rediscovers simplicity with his latest self-titled album Words by Eva Stone-Barney ISSUE 15 | ENSEMBLE It might come as a surprise that Peter Gregson – whose previous work has endeavoured to push boundaries, rubbing shoulders with the world of digital technology – has erred on the side of simplicity in his forthcoming album, Peter Gregson (out April 11th). That the work is self-titled is significant: “this music is the closest to what I hear in my head that I’ve ever reached.” What’s in Gregson’s head reveals itself to be an assortment of elegant melodies. The cellist and composer draws inspiration from Felix Mendelssohn’s songs without words – his cello becomes a singing voice, an extension of himself. Gregson made the album in “The Big Room” at Peter Gabriel’s Real World Studios, which sits in the middle of a pond, just outside of London, as he describes it. He recorded his cello to tape, and the synthesizer digitally, to create a sound world that looks as far back as the 19th century, and as far forward as avant-garde electronic composition. There is something vulnerable about creating a record that is so paired-down, particularly for an artist as prolific as Gregson. His aim was to release something pure, music whose essence is not modified or obfuscated by the format in which it is presented. Each piece leads into the next: an imaginative, free-flowing portrait of the artist, which leaves ample room for interpretation. CANNOPY x Peter Gregson New album out April 11th, 2025.

Now on MUBI: Grand Tour PROFILE ─ Miguel Gomes’s latest film is a sprawling, messy, and dreamy odyssey that isn’t afraid to throw a few curveballs. Words by Caleb Freeman ISSUE 15 | MUBI | IN FOCUS It is the beginning of 1918, and Edward (Gonçalo Waddington), a minor English diplomat in Burma (modern-day Myanmar), wanders sullenly through a rainy Rangoon, dreaming of escape. It is not the destruction of World War I that weighs on him. Rather, it is the impending arrival of Molly (Crista Alfaiate), his fiancée of seven years, that terrifies him. In a moment of panic, Edward ditches a bouquet of bird of paradise flowers—a welcome gift for his betrothed—and takes flight, boarding a ship for Singapore and leaving word that Molly should return to London. Determined to marry, Molly instead follows Edward to Singapore and beyond, embarking on a sweeping journey through Southeast and East Asia. Thus begins Grand Tour , the sixth and latest feature by Portuguese filmmaker Miguel Gomes (now streaming on MUBI ). The film premiered in the 2024 Cannes Film Festival’s Competition to acclaim, winning Gomes the Best Director award. Gomes’s work has earned a reputation for being equal parts charming and challenging—poetic, playful, and always ready to upend viewers’ expectations. Grand Tour is no exception. The film is a sprawling, messy, and dreamy odyssey that isn’t afraid to throw a few curveballs. One of the inspirations for Grand Tour is Somerset Maugham’s travelogue The Gentleman in the Parlour , which recounts the author’s journey from Rangoon to Haiphong. The film follows Edward on a similar route—Singapore, Bangkok, Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City), Manila, Osaka, Shanghai, and Chongqing toward Tibet—with Molly always hot on his trail. Before writing the script, Gomes and his team embarked on a research trip along this itinerary. They began filming in 2020 but were sidelined by the COVID-19 pandemic, with Gomes directing cinematographer Guo Liang remotely from Lisbon. After reviewing the footage, Gomes co-wrote the script with Mariana Ricardo, Telmo Churro, and Maureen Fazendeiro. Filming of the scripted scenes resumed in 2022, shot entirely on soundstages in Europe. Footage from that research trip is included in the film, to curious effect. The documentary footage is not disguised—it’s very clearly from the present: we see telephone poles, modern cars, locals wearing Nike. This constant juxtaposition challenges the viewer’s sense of time. We see intimate portraits of modern life: a man getting his hair cut in an alley in Shanghai, young men climbing a grease pole in Myanmar, women harvesting red lotus flowers in Thailand. One of the film’s most striking moments features a man in Manila delivering a tearful karaoke rendition of Frank Sinatra’s “My Way” before quietly sitting down to dinner alone. These scenes loosely align with the plot, using documentary footage that mirrors the characters’ locations. A voice-over—typically in the local language—narrates what the characters are doing. For example, as a tuk-tuk aggressively weaves through Bangkok traffic, a Thai narrator describes Edward’s drunken hijinks in Thailand. The result is that the division between past and present is blurred, sometimes in jarring ways. In one scene, as Edward travels through a forest en route to Thailand, we see a shot of a ringing cell phone on the ground. This is not an errant bit of documentary footage but a deliberate rupture—present bleeding into the past. This scene is perhaps emblematic of the film’s broader preoccupation with drawing attention to its own artifice. Grand Tour is explicitly inspired by American screwball comedies of the 1930s and ’40s. Waddington and Alfaiate’s performances evoke old Hollywood, as do the intricately detailed yet unmistakably staged sets. As a result, the documentary footage often feels more immediate and engaging than the scripted scenes—a tension that may be entirely intentional. As Gomes notes in the film’s press kit, there are multiple “grand tours” at play: “Above all there is this immense tour that unites what is divided – countries, genders, times, reality and the imaginary, the world and the cinema.” Throughout the film, we encounter karaoke performances, shadow puppetry, marionettes, even an opera singer bursting into an aria after a disastrous captain’s dinner. In this way, Grand Tour becomes a metacommentary on the act of filmmaking itself and its place within a global tradition of performance and storytelling. If this all sounds heady and demanding, that’s because it is. Grand Tour may be visually stunning and playful, but it's also a highly ambitious film that asks a great deal of its audience. At just over two hours, it can at times feel exasperating. By the end, the film pushes the tension between reality and artifice to its breaking point, and whether it ultimately sticks the landing remains an open question. Edward and Molly never quite emerge as fully realized, empathetic characters. It’s unclear how much we’re meant to invest in them—or in their relationship. Edward, melancholic and (we’re told) prone to debauchery, contrasts with Molly, who is indefatigable and often amused by Edward’s cowardice, expressing this through a distinctive sputtering laugh. They function as foils, but they also move through the film as allegorical figures of British colonization. Edward flirts and ogles women in ways that feel overtly objectifying, while Molly (sometimes quite literally) drags others into her journey, ultimately with tragic consequences. That these supposed agents of the British Empire speak entirely in Portuguese introduces another layer of political complexity, invoking Portugal’s own colonial legacy. This commentary only begins to unpack Grand Tour . Dreamy, visionary, and often visually arresting, it’s not a film for the impatient. But for those willing to engage with its demands, it offers a rewarding meditation on time, storytelling, and our cultural relationships with the world around us. If you are willing to sit with it, Grand Tour is worth the journey.

IVG Producer Corey Ross Corey Ross by Kalya Ramu Founder of Starvox Entertainment; co-founder of Lighthouse Immersive WORDS BY MILES FORRESTER | TORONTO | VISUAL ARTS NOV 11, 2022 | ISSUE 8 The once-tentative tiptoe towards the re-emergence of the arts is gaining speed, and Immersive Van Gogh Exhibit C0-Producer, Corey Ross, has been at the forefront of the race to return. As founder of Starvox Entertainment and co-founder of Lighthouse Immersive, Ross strives to reinvent theatre, art, magic, music, and the performing arts in ways never before seen. Navigating the wild waters of the entertainment world, he has found freedom and fun in blurring the lines between performer and viewer to present something truly unique. When the pandemic storm pressed in, that wide ocean of possibilities became turbulent and unpredictable, forcing entertainment companies across the globe to moor up and take stock of what was indeed

Lan Florence Yee A Legacy of Ethnography by Lan Florence Yee Destabilising Chinatown Narratives with Text and Embroidery WORDS BY GEORGIA GARDNER | TORONTO | LIGHTHOUSE IMMERSIVE NOV 18, 2022 | ISSUE 7 Toronto-based artist Lan Florence Yee’s work centres on the fusion between text and labour-intensive creation. Yee’s art presents a stumbling block to linear narratives of intergenerational knowledge. Through the intensive process of embroidering text onto fabric, Yee showcases experiences of dead ends, futility, failure and repetition. It seeks to deromanticize queer and racialized experiences. As both a visual artist and curator of Chinatown Biennial , a digital exhibit, Yee explores the purpose of taking a closer examination into what we think we know.

Mother Sorrow: A Work in Progress Photo by Mike McClung From blueprints to footprints on stage, a contemporary dance project unfolds WORDS BY ERIN BALDWIN | TORONTO | PERFORMING ARTS FEB 28, 2023 | ISSUE 11 Artistic productions are often concealed – literally and figuratively – behind a curtain until their debut, making it easy to forget the months and years of labour that go into bringing a performance to life. Occasionally, however, we’re offered a rare glimpse into the development process, such as when Canadian choreographer and professional dancer Jennifer Nichols invited smART Magazine to a private working rehearsal of her latest venture, Mother Sorrow. Nichols first conceived of the project back in 2018, inspired to construct a retelling of Pergolesi’s “Stabat Mater” that innovatively combined dance, opera, the original baroque score, and new music. Joining forces with the composer Adam Scime and the librettist, poet, and playwright David James Brock, Nichols was at last able to assemble the cast of dancers, musicians, and opera singers for three weeks of rehearsal in Toronto towards the end of 2022. On a brisk, overcast December afternoon, a small group gathered inside the Trinity-St. Paul’s United Church and Centre for...

Soundstreams Presents: The Garden of Vanished Pleasures INTERVIEW ─ Director Tim Albery leads us through a lush biographical opera as it prepares to bloom again Words & Interview by Eva Stone-Barney ISSUE 15 | TORONTO | ANY: TORONTO Like any art form, opera relies heavily on traditions and conventions: in order to be opera, a piece of theatre needs to meet certain expectations and adhere to ways of doing things. As is the case in any creative space, however, these rules are made to be broken, and expectations made to be upended. Enter The Garden of Vanished Pleasures , which will take to the Marilyn and Charles Baillie Theatre at Canadian Stage later this month (April 25-27). Directed by creator Tim Albery, The Garden of Vanished Pleasures , recounts the later years of English artist, writer, director and activist Derek Jarman’s life. Jarman, who is perhaps most known for films such as Caravaggio (1986), The Last of England (1986) or Edward II (1991) died in 1994 due to complications with HIV. An avid gardener, he spent the end of his life at a cottage on the south-west coast of England. The Garden tells this story, and provides touching commentary on themes of love, lust, loss, queerness, and isolation─accessible even to those completely unfamiliar with Jarman’s life and work. Tim Albery The Garden has itself lived an interesting life thus far. As was the case with many shows in 2020, its premiere — which was to be part of the Royal Conservatory of Music’s 21C Festival — was cancelled. Instead, Albery and his creative team took their project online, and adapted the show for digital distribution. The show has since received critical acclaim for its digital presentation – it was a finalist for Opera America’s 2022 Award for Excellence in Digital Opera. Many artists, and theatre makers in particular, suffered immensely as a result of the pandemic. Albery and his team’s creativity in the face of disaster, though, speaks to a silver lining. The forced expulsion from the dark, cozy warmth of theatres and opera houses propelled opera into the vast expanse of the internet, and with this, offered up an opportunity to tell new stories, to new audiences, in ground-breaking ways. Hyejin Kwon Now, some years after its first bloom, The Garden will finally receive its stage premiere with Soundstreams. This run of performances is musical directed by pianist Hyejin Kwon, and will star countertenor Daniel Cabena, mezzo-soprano Hillary Tufford, and sopranos Mireille Asselin and Danika Lòren. The ensemble is rounded out by cellist Amahl Arulandandam and violist Brenna Hardy-Kavanagh. Starting from top left: Daniel Cabena, Hillary Tufford, Mireille Asselin, Danika Lorèn, Amahl Arulandandam, and Brenna Hardy-Kavanagh Rather unconventionally for an opera, the music in this piece is written by not one composer, but two. Canadian composer Cecilia Livingston’s songs are woven in and around Translucence , a song cycle by English composer Donna McKevitt, which sets texts by Jarman himself. McKevitt worked with Jarman at the end of his life, scoring music for his final film, Blue (1993). While art song and opera are traditionally understood as separate entities in the world of classical singing, here they are one and the same. This act of recombination, of working with existing, disparate musical and textual material to create something new and cohesive, represents another way in which Albany and his creative team challenge the artistic conventions of opera, and open up a whole new arena of creative possibility in which to work and play. How better to honour the life and work of a ground-breaking, boundary-pushing artist like Derek Jarman. CANNOPY x Soundstreams

Jay Baruchel: All-Canadian Charmer Jay Baruchel by Kalya Ramu 15 questions with Jay Baruchel WORDS BY MADELEINE KANE | PERFORMANCE APR 11, 2023 | ISSUE 5 Sifting through any genre-defining comedy of the last decade, you’d almost certainly find the scruffy yet relaxed charismatic magnet personified by the all-Canadian charmer, Jay Baruchel. As a familiar onscreen staple, with a career spanning over two decades, Baruchel’s performances range from box-office hits to raucous blockbuster comedies, to acclaimed and poignant dramas. In recent years, Baruchel has delved fully into his life behind the camera as a writer and director. His author’s debut, Born Into It: A Fan’s Life , a memoir of lifelong devotion to the Montreal Canadiens, was published in 2018. In 2020, amidst the chaotic reshuffling of pandemic cinema,