Category Archives: Interview

I first met Sarah Davidson during a queer ecology-themed Banff Centre residency in 2022, where we bonded over our love of hiking, literature, and our mutual interests in queerness beyond the human variety. Throughout our time there, we spent many days out of the studio walking up various mountains and talking about drawing, writing, and being trans in different spaces. Davidson’s practice exists within the genres of painting and drawing, and weaves figurative elements of the natural world together with a rigorous illustrative hand that blends into colourful biomorphic abstraction, complicating the boundaries between bodies, organisms, and forms. This conversation took place in the spring of 2025, while their solo exhibition, Blending In, was on view at Auxier Kline in New York, as well as a group show called Sympathetic Lightning, which was co-curated by Davidson and Nirvana Santos-Kuilan at Springs Projects. My work was included in Sympathetic Lightning, though myself and several other artists in the show were unable to visit the show in the US due to shifting policies around transness and identification at the border. Davidson and I recently joined in conversation to reflect on how understandings of transness and queerness have shifted in the last several years, what art can offer in these re/interpretations, and how in these times, looking for survival strategies from the more-than-human is more resonant than ever.

This spring, I met with artist Holly Chang to talk about her newest work, Garden into Infinity (2025). At the time, there was still a slight chill in the air, though our shared landscape in Toronto’s west end was starting to shift into a more green and verdant one.

Holly says she knew me when we were both undergraduate students interested in photography, though the first time I remember meeting her was years later, at a natural dyeing class she led at OCAD University. In the class, she taught us how organic materials could colour and tone fabric and fibre. It was a magical and witchy experience—standing over boiling cauldrons of water filled with plants and herbs. 

I have been interested in the work of Liz Toohey-Wiese for several years, and first met her when I included her work in the group exhibition that I curated at CSA space in 2022, titled Jelena and the Internet Celebrity Cat. In addition to her commitment to art that addresses climate change,  alongside artistic collaborator Amory Abbott, she edited the self-published, three volume series of books called Fire Season, which gather a diverse community to use visual art, poetry, writing, and essays to look at wildfires as a container for more complex and experiential topics like grief, climate change, loss, new growth, and the changing ideas of landscape.¹ After taking in their project, I wanted to know more about how Liz thinks about her painting practice in relation to environmental activism, and changing the public’s perception on climate change. Her exhibition of paintings at Duplex in December of last year was the perfect opportunity. 

Having also recently embarked on my own series of landscapes in the studio, I wanted to know Liz’s perspective on how, as settler artists, we can responsibly depict the local landscape to challenge the settler-ideology of the hierarchy between humans and nature which contributes to climate inaction. The interview took place on January 2, 2025 at Duplex Artist Society in Vancouver, BC, on the unceded ancestral territories of the xʷməθkʷəy̓əm, Sḵwx̱wú7mesh, and səlilwətaɬ Nations 

I was first introduced to artist Erin Hunt by a colleague with whom I share a first name. By chance, Hunt and I share the nation’s capital as a hometown, right down to the suburb. We thought possibly streets apart when we first met in 2021. We also share a fondness for the same island community in Newfoundland, though Hunt has now been a permanent resident since summer 2012 and I only just about reached two years. In 2021, I moved to Fogo Island to work for Fogo Island Arts, a residency that welcomes artists most of the year. The residency program appeals to a sensibility that values an unconventional approach to seclusion. The island is small, but wider than you’d imagine––it accommodates a total of ten communities along its coast and boasts a  population of about 2,250.

By Brody Weaver

A thousand kilometres apart, but connected between Halifax, NS and St. John’s, NL through video-call, I had the pleasure of interviewing artist, writer, researcher, and educator Daze Jefferies in late March of this year. Her multi-disciplinary practice engages creative research into the histories of trans women and sex workers in Ktaqmkuk: (Newfoundland). Jefferies’ work and research has emerged as a waypoint of queer and trans historical inquiry and archival intervention in this region. An artist’s journey into the archives (be these brick-and-mortar or web-based) surfaces alternate feelings and expanded lines of inquiry than we often see in traditional historical research. Unbound from the obligations of non-fiction, material traces of the past have instead become a starting point for speculation and worldmaking in the artist’s hands. 

In October of last year, Chilean artist Elizabeth Burmann Littin’s exhibition Pupila marked the opening of two seven two, a new commercial gallery in Toronto run by Emma Bain and Yasmin Nurming-Por. Tucked away in the Republic of Rathnelly, it takes up residence in a space already steeped in a legacy of community organizing and experimental art practices of the 1960s-’70s. Burmann Littin’s exhibition beckons with a glow of atmospheric pink light that spills out into the gallery’s back laneway. Entering Pupila is akin to passing through a portal, one that simultaneously invokes the primordial soup of our planetary origins, as well as our contemporary moment of climate crisis, through an attunement to the troubling anthropogenic, oceanic conditions of our present and future. 

I can’t say for certain why Parastoo Anoushahpour’s recent film The Time That Separates Us (2022) absorbed my attentions. In the spring, I found myself on the edge of the University of Toronto’s St. George campus in Innis Town Hall, a cinema and lecture theatre. I was compelled to take out my notebook in the dark to record some thoughts: Story of the Ammonites / Lot’s daughters—The key to taking a selfie is to take just one—’Valle’–Yes—There–English—Not everything is meant to be written—All memories become important—A light hand / a Heavy Land.

As part of a 2023 Images Festival screening series called Passages, Anoushahpour’s film was screened alongside the works of Iranian filmmakers Naghmeh Abbasi, Siavash Yazdanmehr, and Rojin Shafiei. Collectively, these works spoke to each other in Arabic and Farsi, between modes and metaphors. I tried to understand the language between them. Shot in Jordan and Palestine, The Time That Separates Us is grounded in the land and the mythologies around Lot’s Wife and the Pillar of Salt. In the film, an intimacy of thoughtful and honest intentions is foregrounded in the exploration of the film’s subjectivities in a heavily mediated landscape.

A couple of weeks after the screening, during a trip to New York City, I reached out to Anoushahpour to ask if she would be open to talking about her work. The Toronto-based filmmaker and artist spoke with me from Athens, Greece, where she was at the time. Our conversation meandered between ideas I had sent her in an email, and we spoke about elements of craft and process—not in a way that would explain certain artistic decisions or meanings, but to more insightfully navigate why I came away feeling so touched by her work. 

At sunset, in the calm before a torrential downpour, I spoke with artist Hyang Cho inside the makeshift studio she’s set up inside her garage in Guelph, ON. We talked about her most recent exhibition, Certain Things from Uncertain Moments, which ran from January 14 – March 11, 2023 at YYZ Artists’ Outlet, and reflected on using time as material when creating sculptural work, the relationship between time and boredom, and the near-geologic sedimentation of her varied material accumulations. She walked me through the differentiation she makes between “collecting” and “saving,” and why she always “pauses” her projects rather than “ending” them. We discussed the subtle variations in mass produced objects like glass jars and plastic bags, and whether or not materials can ever truly be transformed. In Cho’s process, a book always remains a book, even after it’s been torn up, mixed with glue, and turned into a rock-like lump of papier mâché—and through our conversation, she also convinced me that sometimes tearing a book apart is more pleasurable than reading. 

Calgary-based artist Morgan Melenka’s practice consistently sources from the expansive fields of sculpture, architecture, and printmaking. In her work, Melenka researches and links the histories of material to place—like American-made Formica for example—and in doing so, expands and contextualizes the wider implications of their various uses through her creative approach.

I first came across Laura Hudspith’s work in 2019, which coincided with a shift in the artist’s practice to a more autotheoretical approach that draws on her lived experience with chronic illness. At that time, I was months deep into my own isolating and confusing journey that would eventually lead to the diagnosis of fibromyalgia, the latest in a growing list of medical conditions that have shaped my life to date. I was immediately drawn to Laura’s compelling use of object, image, and text in relation to both the individual and the collective body. I felt a wave of relief; I felt seen. Despite the fact that I initially encountered Laura’s work virtually, the impact of her practice is evident in the sense of connection and comfort it offered me in a time marked by unknowing. 

Splitting her time between Pittsburgh and Toronto, Laura has since continued to deepen her engagement with the intersections of art, critical theory, politics, and medicine, resulting in a wide range of material experimentation as she works towards the completion of her graduate degree. This winter, I had the privilege of sitting down with Laura for an in-depth conversation about her practice, traversing multiple bodies of work from 2020 to the present day. 

How does one evaluate the authenticity of an artist’s work? Is it the artwork itself or is it the engagement with it? In this late-capitalist, image-driven world, what does meaningful engagement with contemporary photography look like? How do we value generosity, connection, depth and above all—truth? 

I am often at a crossroads between admiring an artist’s body of work at face value—the aspects that are detectable on the surface, the interpretations that comfortably linger in the presentation space—and how I might nurture this relationship between artwork, artist, writer, and as a human being. It therefore came to me as no surprise when I fell in love with Beau Gomez’s El Angel. I fall in love so easily, and photography can be such a beautiful thing. However romantic this may be, it’s important to remember that love too can be fickle, and photography, by its very nature and science, is also a fickle phenomenon. 

Sunday March 20, 2022, 1pm EST. Three individuals (Sean Weisgerber, the artist; Daniel Griffin Hunt, curator of The Size of a Credit Card at the plumb; and Rebecca Travis, Curator and Collections Manager at Open Studio) meet at Open Studio in downtown Toronto to look at and discuss Weisgerber’s solo exhibition at the gallery’s Feature Wall, aptly titled Wall Drawing #1. The trio sit around the work in folding chairs, one with a large book on his lap…

In She Can Cook a Potato in Her Hand and Make it Taste Like Chocolate, an artistic research and exhibition project led by Jasmine Reimer, she investigates Neolithic goddess mythology and symbols with twelve artists, researchers and academics, including Toronto-based artist Amanda Boulos. Interviews related to the project took place over Zoom and subsequent email correspondence due to strict COVID-19 lockdowns, when stories were told only through screens. In this conversation, Boulos and Reimer speak about their practices in relation to the visual language and body of “the Goddess.” 

Boulos discusses her latest series, Mother’s Storage (2020), dedicated to her Mother as the storyteller of the family and to the nurturing nature of their relationship. She tells us how the abstract imagery emerges from familial narratives, body language and excessive smothering. She deeply admires and relates to Reimer’s goddess drawings from the recent series, The Great Round (2020-2021), asking about her inspirations for the towering charcoal works. Reimer’s The Great Round explores how “the Goddess” and her various manifestations as rocks, bodies of water, trees and plants helped Neolithic communities connect to non-anthropocentric lifecycles. In her drawings, Reimer adds to the mythology via gender-fluid hybrid forms.

Vishal Jugdeo interviewed by Paul Kajander

Does Your House Have Lions (2021) is a 49 minute film by Delhi-based poet vqueeram and Los Angeles-based artist Vishal Jugdeo. Shot like cinéma-vérité, the piece moves around friends and lovers vqueeram lives with. It documents Delhi, Bombay and Goa, during the time-period of January 2016 to September 2020, and speaks to an intensified political atmosphere in India. This film is just one iteration of an ongoing collaborative process between vqueeram and Jugdeo.

For several months, I’ve had the pleasure of thinking with this complex and profoundly beautiful new work, which prompted much correspondence about Vishal & vqueeram’s working methodology and the many details surrounding the lived experience of producing such an encompassing project. Through his spirited responses, Vishal shared a wealth of contextual information that will offer an enriched experience of this vital document, which shines a brave and loving light on a house of luminous relations, burning brightly against the encroaching darkness of diminishing democratic freedoms in India.

By Zoe Koke

Sean Sprague is a photographer from Toronto who now lives in Los Angeles. His work—large-scale singular tableau photographs—stage moments he observes in daily life, then recasts and reconstructs. These are spaces of in-betweenness aggrandized. Questions of labour and class drift through his work, tensions between the real and unreal, yet evidence is always withheld, faces turned away, details guarded, while maintaining that everything appears in piercing focus. Sprague, like many of his references and predecessors, is preoccupied with the gaps around truth. In describing his work he states, “Through staging of documentary scenes, these works seek to challenge the authority of the documentary traction in photography and its narrow definition of truth that excludes so much.”

By Daniel Colussi

For just over a year Vancouver based interdisciplinary artist, filmmaker and musician Casey Wei has produced a series of shows under the banner of art rock? Wei’s practice is primarily in film and video but she has also curated several site-specific projects that transform the character and use of communal space. For Toronto’s 2015 Images Festival, Wei was the first ever artist-in-residence at the Chinatown Centre Mall on Spadina Avenue. She activated the mall’s lower mezzanine with ballroom dancing, mahjong tables, karaoke and live music, the kind of activities reflective of the demographics of mall’s primary users, who are for the most part Chinese and elderly. For the course of that week, Wei virtually never left the confines of the mall, during the day she hosted and documented the lower mezzanine and at night she had in a room in the Super 8 hotel attached to the mall. Continue Reading →