Art Amidst It All

2022

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CANCULTURE Art Amidst it All

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Masthead & Contributors Editor's Letter From sculptures to street art: How public art saves cities Reusable face masks: The fashionable culture of inclusivity Stronger Than Clay Canadian vinyl sales get back in the groove, despite pandemic challenges the pandemic for Canadians Achieving theatrical liberation within pandemic constraints Online book clubs: Settling for a virtual human connection We Need The Show To Go On Independent Canadian musicians are spreading social awareness through their art Community and celebration in COVID times: The return of Canadian Pride

Capitalism vs. creativity: Commodifying our hobbies during a pandemic

Can laughter be the best medicine?

CanCulture Recommends Cadence Weapon’s Parallel World expression of the Black Canadian experience Masthead Playlist CanCulture Crossword Horoscopes Exhausting and exhilarating: What it's like to be a journalism student in a pandemic

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H T EAD S A M Editor in Chief

Managing Editors

Annemarie Cutruzzola

Sama Nemat Allah Federico S. Gutierrez

Arts & Books Editor

Film Editor

Olivia Wiens

John Vo

Fashion Editor

Food Editor

Samreen Maqsood

Jennifer Nguyen

Features Editor

Music Editor

Nishat Chowdhury

Isaac Fontes

Social Media Director

Lead Graphic Designer

Danillo Onetto-Bolefski

Abby Grant

Social Media Associate

Graphic Designers

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Joanne Chan

Anastasia Blosser Joanne Chan Maria Allyanna Hernandez Madeline Liao

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B I U R T TOR N O S C Sara Belas Ishitaa Chopra Stephanie Davoli Rowan Flood Aru Kaul Caelan Monkman Breanna Schnurr Alisha Shaikh Vanessa Tiberio

www.canculturemag.com @canculturemag

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EDITOR’S LETTER You might think this is a weird time to launch a printed magazine about the arts in Canada. The arts are dying, apparently. Print is dying, they say. So why now?

Art Amidst It All edition, debuting two years into a pandemic we’re still reeling from. If you’re new to CanCulture, we’re a publication that has reported on arts and culture in Canada since 2011, run entirely When we set out to make this magazine, I thought of it as a sort of epic conclusion — a snapshot of the “end” of the pandemic

my classes. I watched mainstream Canadian publications drastically cut their arts and entertainment sections. I watched All of this was during a time that was cruel to the arts sector spirits were crushed.

But it was art that carried many of us through this pandemic.

Whether that looks like an early quarantine hobby that stuck, a much more than that. It can be a community. It can be a new still uncertain and so much is broken — it can be rebuilding,

people writing them, and the people reading them — they’re all still here. They’re in your hands right now.

It’s true, you can’t tell stories about the past two years without some harsh and downright depressing realities. The pandemic communities. It was a time of loss, grief and declining mental health. In the arts and culture industry, it has undeniably left its

But alongside these stories of struggle, we wanted to focus on one from theatre students to book club goers made the best of

So, I hope this magazine is more of a beginning than an ending. many transformational new beginnings for Canadian artists.

The magazine itself is hopefully the beginning of an annual tradition here at CanCulture. And you’re about to take in the work of incredibly skilled and passionate students who are only at the beginning of their careers.

possible. Thank you to my dream team: Federico and Sama, the entire CanCulture masthead and all of our contributing to make this inkling of an idea a reality. And a special thank you brought this magazine to life.

Annemarie Cutru!ola

From sculptures to street art: How public art saves cities

By Nishat Chowdhury

Amid lockdowns, public art spaces were empty as people sat in their homes listening to their Spotify and Apple Music playlists and seeking out other online content through social media. need for entertainment at a time when people couldn’t leave their homes, it is not the same as going to a movie theatre with friends, enjoying a picnic at a scenic park on a cool summer afternoon or going on a date to an art gallery or museum in the city.

“Whether it's in an institutional environment or a private domestic environment, access to it is policed, and also the way in which we engage with it is very much policed. But when we engage with it in the city, public art is so important because we can engage with it in an unpremeditated way,” says Leslie.

Rui Pimenta, the artistic director for Art Spin, an organization that presents contemporary art in unique spaces across the city, says that despite the diversity of the city, public art too often includes racist monuments that further marginalize Indigenous, Black and racialized communities.

Pimenta adds that when notions of history are prioritized over anything else, public art loses connection with the general public.

“As a society, we're always changing. When public art focuses too much on these ideas of permanence in monumentality, it can easily get to a point

In metropolitan cities across the world, public art in the form of murals, sculptures, performanc-

terms of how it connects to a more contemporary general public,” says Pimenta.

has always allowed us to connect to our

Toronto Star that artistic and cultural civic infrastructure are essential in creating a more vibrant city. In late September of 2021, Tory launched

For diverse cities in Canada like Vancouver and Toronto, public art enriches city spaces, bringing life to buildings, plazas, parks, schools, bridges, alleys and other streetscapes. Public art also helps boost local economies as bars, visitors. tunities for artists in the middle of nationwide shutdowns and closures to curb the spread of the virus.

public to engage with the art on an everyday basis.

While the pandemic is responsible for the large blow the arts industry endured, it is also a topic of inspiration. StreetARToronto’s Front Line Heroes project celebrates the city’s frontline service workers through street, essential workers of all ages, genders, backgrounds and professions in Toronto. The art is painted by an equally diverse group of artists, according to StreetARToronto.

In an Oct. 2021 Toronto Star article, John Tory says public visual art brings people together, something that is more essential than ever. Tory adds that public art plays a large role in the economic and social recovery of a city.

Arts and culture are crucial in bringing cities like Toronto back to life. But even before the pandemic, Toronto’s artistic community has seen their

crucial in order to “insert elements of surprise” in the city, says Deborah Leslie, a professor in the department of geography and urban planning at the University of Toronto.

Leslie adds that public art is a great opportunity for all types of people to encounter art, whereas galleries only allow people with higher socioeconomic power to engage with artists and their work.

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togetherness and resilience in the face of hard times.

Reusable face masks: The fashionable culture of inclusivity

By Vanessa Tiberio At the beginning of the pandemic in early 2020, the discourse around mask-wearing was perplexing. Uncertainties along with mixed messages prevailed, as mask-wearing quickly shifted from a discouraged act to a mandate.

Like a choreographed sequence, Canadians quickly adapted to the necessities of covering their noses, mouths and chins with a piece of cloth. When the supply of N95 and surgical masks for frontline workers became obsolete, others gave up their extra supplies without hesitation.

Scrambling to find solutions, Canadians got crafty and made their own reusable masks out of household supplies, such as cloth, elastics and bandanas, and shared their DIY tips with friends and neighbours. The need for protective masks reverberated throughout the country, as reusable and fashionable protective accessories were at the forefront of demand.

As pandemic waves ebb and flow, the future of mask-wearing among Canadians remains in question. But one thing for certain is the culture of care masks have created, turning a health necessity into a cultural and fashionable staple.

During a ROM livestream, Fahmida Suleman, the lead curator of Unmasking the Pandemic, said this exhibit is “an absolute labour of love.”

An exhibition free of charge, Unmasking the Pandemic seeks to capture the culture of the pandemic in a moment of time. The masks reflect the makers’ unique stories as explored through the four highlighted themes of poetry and protest, survival and strength, heroes and warriors, and artistry and innovation.

One of the makers featured in the exhibition is Jonny Daring, an image consultant and designer from Toronto. In early 2020, when mask demands were outpacing supply, Daring was unsuccessful in his search for protective face masks, like many other Canadians.

Using supplies from his design job, Daring created matching Superman and Supergirl masks for himself and his six-year-old daughter. After posting his creations online, Daring received an overwhelmingly positive response, leading to the creation of his brand, JonnyMask. The Superman and accompanying Supergirl mask now represent the launch of Daring’s business and serve as a historic landmark of pandemic creativity.

Mask expression in both Canada and around the world is currently on display at a Royal Ontario Museum (ROM) exhibit called Unmasking the Pandemic: From Personal Protection to Personal Expression. During the 2020 lockdown, the ROM collected more than 300 masks from more than 23 different countries. The exhibition displays 100 of these masks, highlighting the work of more than 40 Canadian makers and 15 Indigenous artists.

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Jovanovic began her research on inclusive fashion and braille while studying fashion communication at X University. Now a featured maker in the ROM’s Unmasking the Pandemic exhibition, Jovanovic’s expansion into the realm of masks has only made her clothing designs more popular.

Gift of Jonathan Daring / © Royal Ontario Museum Seeking innovation in mask-wearing inclusivity, AKaurBrand’s turban-friendly mask design is also featured at Unmasking the Pandemic. Toronto-based designer Sanjeet Kaur first recognized the need for more inclusive mask designs with her husband working as a police officer. Kaur noticed that wearing a mask over a turban or headdress was difficult as the wearer’s ears were not exposed.

The face masks from Aille Design serve a dual purpose. While reducing the spread of COVID-19, they also provide fully legible braille phrases for braille readers. A burgundy red mask with embellishing crystal pearls spelling out “chin up, mask on” in braille is currently displayed at the ROM exhibit.

After designing several prototypes, she landed on one that clasps at the back of the head and can be worn over turbans, head coverings and long beards. Moving forward, AKaurBrand is continuing to break barriers with its inclusive design of clothing, accessories and shoes that cater to and represent the Sikh community.

Gift of Alexa Jovanovic / © Royal Ontario Museum Outside of the ROM exhibition, many other Canadian small businesses have found innovative ways to highlight their cultures through fashionable, reusable masks. One such brand is Ottawa-born and Indigenous-owned Indigenous Face Masks.

AKaurBrand: © Royal Ontario Museum With the philosophy that “good design shouldn’t exclude anyone,” Aille Design founder Alexa Jovanovic also values inclusivity in her designs. Aille Design creates unique clothing and accessory items with fully legible braille embellished on the designs.

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Founded by Tyson Wesley and Natasha Commanda in October 2020, Indigenous Face Masks was created out of a recognition of the difficulties and high costs associated with disposable face masks, especially in Indigenous communities. For every mask purchased from the company, Indigenous Face Masks donates a children’s mask of the same style to an Indigenous community.

“I noticed my community didn’t have any connection to businesses selling masks, especially in isolated communities. If COVID hit, we wouldn’t be prepared,” says Wesley.

Wesley was raised in Kashechewan Cree First Nation, while Commanda is Anishinaabe from Kitigan Zibi. The co-founders recognized the lack of initiatives to help their communities and sought out a solution themselves. All of the face masks sold by Indigenous Face Masks are adorned with a notable piece of Indigenous art.

As of early 2022, the small business has sent more than 40,000 masks to Indigenous communities across the country. Wesley says the customer response has been outstanding — they’ve sold masks all across Canada and the globe, shipping orders as far as Hong Kong and Australia.

The art on the face masks is what specifically attracts a lot of customer attention. Wesley says he has received many emails from customers sharing their appreciation of the art and explaining how much it means to them.

“A lot of people find a lot of meaning in what they wear on their face with masks. They are able to use it as a way to express what they believe in and what they like. It’s a way to show identity,” Wesley says.

The small business also spread awareness for The National Day for Truth and Reconciliation in September 2021, by creating an “Every Child Matters” mask. 100 per cent of the profits from this mask are donated to the Orange Shirt Society and the Indian Residential School Survivors Society. So far, they have raised $22,500.

“It means a lot to us, as Indigenous people, to show that we’re here,” says Wesley. “To see someone walking around with a mask and to notice that they are wearing Indigenous culture is showing the world that we are here.”

“To see someone walking around with a mask and to notice that they are wearing Indigenous culture is showing the world that we are here ” Purchasing a mask from Indigenous Face Masks also supports the artists of the mask designs or their estates as they are paid royalties for each mask sold.

“What really resonates with us selling Indigenous art is best said by a Louis Riel quote — ‘My people will sleep for 100 years, and when they awake, it will be the artists that give them back their spirit,’” Wesley says.

The idea that art isn’t what people see but what they make of it resonates profoundly with the use of reusable masks. The pandemic has revealed Canadians’ desires to find solutions to express themselves in a safe yet fashionable manner.

Whether masks are made functional by championing inclusivity, acknowledging an underrepresented culture deserving recognition, or are simply aesthetically pleasing, the art of face masks leaves room for interpretation that only the wearer can provide.

Whether or not mask-wearing remains the norm, we can always look to masks as a protective and expressive accessory that united Canadians when we were all told to stay apart.

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Stronger Than

CLAY

By Stephanie Davoli

How a passion for art, design and beautiful earrings helped two sisters rekindle their relationship during lockdown

It’s nearly 4 a.m. in December of 2020. Maddie and Cass Paiva are in the basement of their childhood home as they work to complete several orders of their latest polymer clay earring collection. Records are playing, and the girls are chatting, but there’s no time to waste — the orders need to be shipped out in just a few hours.

Maddie and Cass are the new co-owners of their entirely self-run small business, Lucy Goose and Co. Clay Earrings. The sisters started their business as a small passion project to keep themselves entertained during the lockdown. But it quickly expanded into something much bigger.

“We just expected it to be a hobby,” Maddie recalls. “We were like, ‘Yeah, we’ll just sell a couple pairs and move on.’ But when November and December rolled around, something happened, and we really picked up for the holiday season.”

Due to the pandemic, Maddie, 23, and Cass, 20, were forced to move back home to Mississauga, Ont. Looking for a way to keep themselves from constantly picking fights with each other, the sisters were inspired by their younger sister.

Kat, who is only 14, had already started her own small business, KnotForSale, selling crochet-knit small animals to her friends.

After deciding to collaborate with Kat, the three sisters coined Trois Sœur Atelier — which translates to “Three Sisters’ Studio” in French — as the name for their collaborative artistic collective.

Since opening Lucy Goose & Co. in September of 2020, they’ve had over 600 sales and hundreds of glowing reviews on the joint Etsy store they share with Kat’s business.

Inspiration and influence Both Maddie and Cass have backgrounds in creative fields. Cass is a music major studying trumpet performance and Maddie has a master’s degree in English literature. Beyond their artistically-driven scholarship, 8 CanCulture

the sisters have an immense love for fashion — specifically for big, unique, fun earrings.

“There have been a lot of big earrings we’ve bought before that, even though we love them, we couldn’t wear them for long,” Cass explains.

“They’d give us headaches and would just be really uncomfortable to wear. We wanted to make something that not only we could wear but other people too.”

Since comfort and safety are their biggest priorities, Lucy Goose and Co. use the highest quality polymer clay and surgical steel backings to create their intricately designed and allergen-friendly accessories.

Their artistic backgrounds also influence the aesthetics of their creations.

The girls often find ideas from nature, movies, books, and popular culture. Some of their most popular designs include a set of bright and summery dangly pears; a Jane Austen-inspired pair; and a set that pays homage to Princess Diana’s iconic sheep jumper, which was designed by British brand Warm & Wonderful in the early 1970s.

Getting down to business Almost two years in, the sisters now have the mechanics of making their designs down to a science. But when the demand for their products first exploded, they quickly had to adapt their techniques.

“We had gotten to the point where we were selling a lot so, Cass and I were like, ‘Okay, we gotta find a way to up the ante a little bit,’” says Maddie. “So, we literally just dug out a pasta machine that we hadn’t used in God knows how long, and it worked!”

Equipped with their trusty, albeit unconventional, pasta machine to roll out the clay, a plexiglass sheet and ceramic tile to model their earrings on, stencils and knives to cut out their designs, and an oven with some parchment paper, the sisters were now a fine-tuned, earring-making machine.

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Yet, one design aspect that took them the most time to perfect was colour mixing. Cass, who enjoyed colour theory in high school art classes, handles most of their more challenging colour creation needs.

business started right away. The weekend after they announced their interest in starting their company, Maddie and Cass’ mother immediately turned their basement into a workspace for the girls.

“Sometimes Maddie would come up to me and explain a colour she’d like, or we’d see something on Pinterest that we’d try to match, and you’d kinda just play around with the clay until you get the colour where you want it,” she explains.

Since the beginning of their journey, their father has also been extremely supportive, helping them make stencils and other tools.

“The shortages have been tough” However, the girls' colour mixing difficulties weren’t the only business challenge they faced.

Due to the pandemic, polymer clay supply issues have been an ongoing problem for the company.

The sisters have learned how to adapt and adjust to what they have available.

“The shortages have been tough,” says Maddie.

“At one point, there was no white clay. It makes it really hard to mix your own colours when you don’t have white. So that was a good five, six months where you wouldn’t see a single block of white.”

While the supply issues forced Maddie and Cass to be more creative, they enjoyed the extra challenge of finding ways to be more resourceful with their designs. This was fitting as the medium of clay for artistic creation has long been used in various ways.

Some of the oldest known clay jewelry creations came from the Harappan and Mohenjo-daro civilizations, dating to approximately 3000 BCE. Earrings, bangles and necklace artifacts discovered from these times were brightly coloured, well-polished and elaborately decorated. Terracotta-made jewelry continues to be especially popular in Indian and other cultures as the intricate designs can represent different meanings in various regions.

Familial love and support Maddie and Cass are incredibly grateful for the opportunity to extend their passion for making earrings to the public — something that their family’s support has played a massive factor in.

“Our parents have always been super into our creative endeavours,” says Maddie. “It’s just [wild] to see the kind of growth a person goes through when they have a parent who supports them like that.”

As two of their biggest supporters, the sisters’ parents helped get their 10 CanCulture

“I think their thing has always been like, well, if you really want to do something, then put in the work and we'll help and support with whatever is needed to get that going off the ground,” adds Cass. “They just really wanted to see us succeed in whatever it was that we wanted to accomplish.”

“A business born out of pandemic boredom” Not only are the sisters now successful business partners, but the company has helped them reconcile their relationship.

After moving back home at the beginning of the pandemic, the sisters never felt emotionally further from each other — despite living under the same roof again for the first time in years.

“Being away at university for the two of us might have been tearing us apart a little bit for kids who grew up super close together,” says Maddie. “So, when this pandemic hit, all of a sudden we were like, ‘Okay, how can we maximize the time we're spending together without making something to fight about?’”

Cass recalls fond memories of waking up in the morning and heading downstairs to their workspace. With their teas and coffees in hand, listening to records they both enjoyed while talking and working for hours, she agrees that the business quickly came to mean a lot to them.

“It was a good way to reset and find a common interest amongst us as something that we were both working towards. There was less criticism because we were both learning something new and trying to figure everything out,” she shares.

“It was nice having something that we can do together, but also figure out our own individual part within the business too.”

Hundreds of earrings later, and it's clear that Lucy Goose and Co. represents much more than a hobby for turning polymer clay into beautiful jewelry. Instead, it’s the bridge that helped two sisters reconnect and begin a new chapter of their relationship during a time of great uncertainty.

(Photos courtesy of Lucy Goose and Co. Clay Earrings)

...despite pandemic challenges

by caelan monkman

After a decrease in sales in 2020, Canadian vinyl record sales -

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30, Red (Taylor’s Version), and evermore Alan Cross, a self-proclaimed vinyl record lover and the host of The Ongoing History of New Music

Red (Taylor’s Version) and evermore -

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-

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12 CanCulture

Thank God for Jokes.

to see a lot of those timelines start to improve drastically,

Psychological ownership and music streaming consumption

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COVID curry & lockdown lasagna: Foods that defined the pandemic for Canadians CanCulture reached out to residents across our country on social media to see which meals were significant to them throughout COVID-19.

In a time of uncertainty, food is our gateway to familiarity. Even if it was just to bake some sourdough bread, many of us in Canada have spent more time in the kitchen at some point during the pandemic. After all, there seems to be a certain healing power associated with being able to bite — especially in the company of loved ones.

By Jennifer Nguyen

Lasagna “While lasagna isn't really a designated pandemic food, it was the our new place a few months into the lockdown. There's something about being in a kitchen with her, about handing her the sauce before she asks for it, about the tangible sentiments of community we somehow always cook into our food, that disappears my unease about this world. Cooking more exciting.”

Sama from Toronto

“Jokingly enough, vodka had gotten me through lots.”

- Reddit user u/Promethieus from r/burnaby

“Sourdough bread is now forever tied to quarantine in my mind.”

- Reddit user u/rye_etc from r/askTO

Crepes my favorite artist on YouTube. The sweet ness of crepes just has that nostalgic moment. Sometimes, even though there were bad times, everything was good.”

Moon from Toronto

Gigi Hadid Pasta “First blown up on TikTok at the beginning of Really simple but much much better than my

Heidi from Toronto 14 CanCulture

Shakshuka in the kitchen creating big meals, and there are make something that hits the spot. Shakshuka

some tortilla and fresh avocado!”

Remi from Toronto

“The classy answer: Earl grey tea with lots of milk and a cinnamon stick. The truth: Depression ramen.”

- Reddit user u/CelestikaLily from r/calgary

Kabob Koobideh was going to north Vancouver with my family for some kabob koobideh.”

Kimi from Burnaby

Homemade Jam homemade jams and chutneys made with fresh, seasonal Canadian fruits.

Store-bought jams are way too sweet and unhealthy. We went apple picking, searched added my own magic and posted my creations on Facebook, creating quite a stir. My bit of heat (in the chutneys) and dollops of love. Food for the soul!”

Joy from Mississauga

“Lots of home cooked meals and family time.”

- Reddit user u/kortekickass from r/askredditfood

Butter Chicken mom taught me to cook butter chicken over FaceTime and that it wouldn't feel the same as the way my mom used to make it. gives me the comfort feeling of 'being home!”

Priya from Toronto CanCulture 15

By Sama Nemat Allah ANDREA Lundy describes the week of March 9, 2020 as being rife with sentiments of unfamiliarity.

As the director of the production design and technical arts program (PDTA) at the National Theatre School of Canada (NTS), Lundy recalls being fully immersed in work in the weeks leading up. From conducting interviews for incoming students to watching her cohort mid-semester rush.

Unknown to her then, NTS was one of many theatre institutions that stood at the crux of an impending global pandemic that would shutter NTS (or l’École nationale de théâtre du Canada in French) is a private theatre conservatory operating out of Montreal. The school provides training in French and English to emerging actors, playwrights, directors, production specialists and designers in order to prepare them for the professional theatre domain.

But on midnight of March 13, 2020, all NTS activities, from professional training and community programs to public events, were 16 CanCulture

Brandon Lee Carabin in NTS’ production of Cabaret. (Photo by Maxime Côté)

suspended.

When her boss came to inform her of the news — that under directives administered by Quebec’s Ministry of Education, NTS would have to halt all pedagogy and operations for at least two weeks — Lundy remembers the way his words wouldn’t register.

“How can we just stop? What does that mean?”

As a production manager and lighting designer of over 30 years, Lundy says she has never been versed in the language of stopping or slowing down. Even after she delivered the news to her students class by class, a question repeatedly reverberated in her thoughts: “What can we do?” spent a week waiting and a week planning.”

The second week felt like mayhem epitomized. Lundy and NTS’ eight translate a theatre pedagogy that traditionally sustained itself through physicality into an entirely online medium. This was no easy feat.

Nonetheless, a structure was instituted to carry the school through the remainder of the term.

“But the students weren’t in a good place,” says Lundy. “Some did the work. Some even enjoyed the work. But some couldn’t engage.”

For the third-year students, especially, who stood on the precipice of graduation, virtual education was too foreign a territory. And graduating into a precarious industry that was constantly inundated with a daily avalanche of unknowns left students seeing nothing but curtains closing.

In the wake of the COVID-19 crisis, curtains across the country were coming down in spades. From legacy names like the Stratford and Shaw Festivals in Ontario to Quebec’s Centaur Theatre, news media seldom fell short of announcements of season cancellations and postponed programming.

According to a 2022 report from Statistics Canada, capacity limits, cancellations and venue closures saw the performing arts industry’s performing arts organizations were hit with the largest declines followed

by Ontario, Alberta and British Columbia.

“The particular class who graduated last year? They're all working, every single one of them,” says Lundy. “They're at Stratford; They're at Toronto Fringe. They each found something for themselves.”

STANDING in juxtaposition to analogous Canadian theatre institutions, NTS’ federal exemption allowed them to operate as an essential facility. In the 2020-2021 academic year, this permitted students and faculty, when deemed necessary, to proceed with on-site learning.

With 170 students, a much lower population than other training facilities, NTS easily implemented distancing measures in classrooms with enough person-power to monitor and reinforce protocols where and when necessary.

Still, each program developed a hybrid training plan with a combination of online learning and in-person classes. Naturally, some programs were easier to adapt than others.

“For playwrights, the pandemic doesn’t really change the nature of most of their work,” says Andrea Romaldi, a dramaturg, artistic leader and the director of the English section’s playwriting program.

Brandon Lee Carabin, Reena Jolly, Enya Watson, Rais Clarke-Mendes (centre) in Cabaret, directed and choreographed by Matjash Mrozewski, February 2022 (Photo by Maxime Côté)

necessary federal support, the sector remained resilient, adopting digital tools to reach audiences globally like audio dramas, Zoom readings and digital festivals. And NTS was no exception to these displays of resiliency.

Their initial online transition saw the digital reimagining of the New Words Festival — the premier of plays by graduating playwrights and directors. Students in scenography, acting, production, directing and playwriting brilliantly seized the opportunity to re-stage their plays online, translating material into a language they didn’t know but were steadfast enough to learn.

“Playwrights, more than most other theatre artists at least, are always in of playwrights and theatre creators still need time on their own to process.”

Playwriting workshops, script analysis and lectures that could be virtual swiftly transitioned to the online realm. But even within a program that lends itself to the adaptability that a pandemic calls for, Romaldi found her students’ problems to be less logistical and more to do with nurturing and unearthing inspiration amid the solitude.

In the summer of 2020, a committee of coordinators, directors and administrators, including Lundy, developed guidelines and protocols, encoding care and surety into a newfound pandemic theatre scholarship.

“Their need for stimulation is greater because they're creating an entire imaginative world in their heads. People need to be fed in order to have something to write about,” she says.

This manifested in remarkable successes for graduating students.

According to the Canadian Theatre Encyclopedia, every year, 60

Romaldi adds that while her playwriting cohorts weren’t alone in challenges with deteriorating mental health, virtual working conditions heightened their proclivity to invest endless hours in writing without pause.

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“My students got an enormous amount of work done. But they were also exhausted,” she recalls.

AT THE BEGINNING of the 2022 academic year, during what seemed like an arbitrary dress rehearsal, Rais Clarke-Mendes and her cohort

In an attempt to remedy the inevitable mental toll of existing and creating in a cataclysmic global crisis, NTS’ reopening guide provided students with a number of options to obtain the necessary psychological and emotional support. This included consulting with a school-designated psychotherapist, a student-selected psychotherapist

years.

volunteer support service.

“It was like a glimmer of hope in a really hopeless situation,” says Clarke-Mendes.

“Their need for stimulation is greater because they're creating an entire imaginative world in their heads.

People need to be fed in order to have something to write about” A facet of the student body’s anxiety was derived from what would live performing sector yet to recover. But Romaldi is certain that their contemporary curriculum and pedagogy is preparing them to nurture “I’m making sure my students know how to write vision statements, how to produce creative resumes in a way that makes sense for them,” she says. “Before they leave, I’m making sure they’ve learned how to write to potential producers and to pitch to colleagues and to make connections with people.”

Under the instruction of NTS alumna and professional playwriting mentor, Marie Barlizo, playwriting students are additionally anchored with grant-writing competencies. This is to ensure that by the time bring their work to life.

Romaldi says she’s been privileged enough to bear witness to her playwrights’ renewed appreciation for life and for “how much they need safe return, despite its precarity and its ever-changing nature, pushed students to mine pockets of creative inspiration from unsuspecting places.

“They’ve found liberation within constraint.”

She describes the rehearsal room that day as being abounding in a giddiness and emotion.

As a third-year acting student, Clarke-Mendes has been at NTS since the advent of the pandemic, watching, reacting and acting through every institutions that were only recently able to forego the online solutions put in place in lieu of in person-classes, NTS’ return was quick. But especially for acting students, it wasn’t without its amendments.

“We had to ask ourselves: how do we get the playwright's intentions done in a way where you have to take out physical intimacy?” notes Clarke-Mendes. “How do we act well with masks on when there’s so much you’re not reading from the other person?”

NTS’ acting program is a rigorous and immersive three-year program that develops and supports students through core, movement, text and musical training. But a pandemic meant that its ubiquitous reliance on closeness and intimacy had to be revised for the protection of the performers.

Some classes like stage combat or 20th century dance, a complex movement class that requires partner work and choreography, had to be professional development and the coordinator of the acting program.

Because individualistic exploration was at the core of so many movement classes, Clarke-Mendes didn’t feel her learning was compromised in that domain. But for her, one of the most notable obstacles was the execution of breath work.

She recalls needing to entirely reprogram her approach to her instrument, rethinking how she projected on stage, how she enunciated her consonants, what she needed to emphasize and when she could relax her cadence.

Evan Mercer, Jeremy Lewis, Mackenzie Wojcik, Jasmine Case, Eric Miracle, Emma Hennig, Megan Murphy, Madeleine Scovil, Alia Omar in Homecoming: a selection from 365 Days/365 Plays, directed

by Alisa Palmer. February 2022. (Photo by Adrian Morillo)

18 CanCulture

“It didn’t feel super natural but it’s just about developing those skills,” she adds. of students and faculty, when constraints began to wane at the beginning of this year, Clarke-Mendes could once again look out into the audience and see family, friends and strangers alike watching as she performed.

“It just goes to show that people are still really itching for theatre.”

Protocols were once again reinstated amid the Omicron variant outbreak but her class was still able to produce a showing of Cabaret.

Despite the pandemonium, Clarke-Mendes, as she stands only a few the uncertain future of theatre.

“I know I can hold my own and the school has given me a lot of context,” she says. “I know when I leave I’m going to have a plethora of people that I can reach out to that will help me with the industry.”

She also leaves NTS with a community that has contributed immeasurably to her joy during this endeavour.

“I learned so much from them. I’m inspired by them, I can joke with them, I can be serious with them. And I really believe that everybody’s

EVEN amid what many deemed to be a battered industry, in December of 2021, Come From Away reopened at Toronto’s Royal Alexandra Theatre following the Canadian musical’s 21-month pandemic hiatus.

The homegrown musical’s revitalization was a glorious show of the industry’s durability and the resiliency of Canadian creatives.

Seven days later, a COVID-19 outbreak within the company cornered Mirvish Productions into a four-show cancellation. And soon, after three years and 855 performances, Mirvish announced that Come From Away had held its last curtain call in the city, leaving 300 people out of a job, according to the Toronto Star.

Although the federal government committed $1.9 billion to aid in the recovery and reopening of the arts, culture, heritage and sport sectors in their 2021 budget, the shutdown of this juggernaut of a musical cascaded widely among the Canadian theatre world and cultivated conversations on the limiting nature of these funds.

If theatre organizations don’t stay alive, how does the art of theatre keep on living?

For NTS, the answer lies in community.

“The sharing of knowledge and the sharing of experiences that’s taken place — I’ve never experienced that before,” says Lundy. “We are trying to be good storytellers. But we're only good storytellers if we are good collaborators.”

As she speaks of the students that she’s sending out into the practicing the industry towards more sustainable, more diverse, more humane practices. We keep saying that’s what we need to do. And these students just do.”

Within and beyond their scholastic community, NTS faculty hope to, in perpetuity, preserve the ways Canadian theatre assembled during the pandemic to collectively heal, communicate and create. As they watch of artistry, they stop questioning whether or not this art form will subsist.

“When you look at historical trends…theatre has always stood the test of time,” says Guertin. “This pandemic won’t bury us. These students are well-set and brave and they’re facing the work.”

Thinking of communal joy within NTS evokes memories of section meetings for Romaldi. She recounts the way their then-music director opened every section meeting — frequent gatherings of the English and French sections — by guiding the group of creatives through a sing-along. What were supposed to be mundane two-hour meetings of idea exchanges and ostensibly monotonous communication metamorphosed into an opportunity to “just stay together,” recalls Romaldi contently. ways, you know?”

Rais Clarke-Mendes in NTS’ production of Cabaret. (Photo by Maxime Côté).

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20 CanCulture

The unprecedented times we know are born from fiction. They are galactic wars and zombie apocalypses that overtake the world, shipwrecked survivors on deserted islands and long-lost lovers desperate to find their way back to what they know. These dystopias are what breed friendships in our reality; the passion we have for stories of love, loss and triumph is what moulded the relationships we have today.

But what happens when we are living in our own dystopia? What happens when a raging pandemic filled with uncertainty and fear crashes into the only reality we know? While diving into novels used to help us escape from our own lives, these fictional worlds now tend to remind us of the more than two years of struggle and loss we‘ve all endured. So do we still want to read about them, let alone talk about them? When we feel like we’re living through a bestselling horror novel, does talking about other novels still help us escape?

Like any business or organization, book clubs that were formed before the pandemic had to discover a way to function during quarantine. Meeting in person was out of the question, so, like most other gatherings, every book club moved online.

Through their new digital format, many clubs discovered that interacting with members, having one-on-one discussions, and developing new friendships was more of a challenge. However, the leaders of these clubs found some hidden perks to hosting meetings through a screen.

In March 2020, The Gloss, an international all-women book club created in 2008, moved to an online format. Prior to the pandemic, The Gloss would meet in person once a month in over 150 different cities.

“As a global meeting, we had 300 people sign up,” says The Gloss founder, Erin Woodward. “That was the first kind of move to an actual book club meeting online.”

While online meetings are hardly ideal, Woodward says that they revealed some unexpected benefits for her book club. “[Members] can meet with women all over the world,” she says.

“That provides a very different experience.”

By participating online, women can join any meeting that is convenient for them, which opens up opportunities to meet other book club members from different countries. Meeting the same group of readers every month promotes a healthy routine where friendships are able to develop. While this could still be the case for online book clubs, this social consistency is much more effective in person, according to Woodward.

“Because of the repetition, they have actually managed to foster CanCulture 21

that group experience. They all started to get to know each other; they’re seeing each other every month. It’s just repetition,” notes Woodward. “But it is harder because there is not as much opportunity to have those side discussions.”

Online meetings don’t allow for one-on-one interaction or bonding, which inhibits intimate friendships from forming.

“They’re fostering a friendship over the book, but it’s hard to have those discussions that unite people,” explains Woodward.

thriving,” she says.

Part of this success is due to T-Dot’s consistency. Similar to The Gloss, T-Dot’s frequent meetings have allowed friendships to form despite being restricted to a computer screen.

“Part of the secret to our success as a book club is we have a format that hasn’t changed over the years. We’re pretty steady. It’s easy to figure out what we’re all about,” explains Delaney.

While The Gloss and T-Dot were forced to adapt to the pandemic, other individuals created online book clubs during quarantine as a way to combat feelings of isolation and to nurture their love of reading.

Adriana Foriante, a fourth-year journalism student and creator of the X University Book Club, started her club as a way to encourage herself to read more. She compares it to an English course, but more enjoyable because she isn’t being graded.

Though moving book clubs online has allowed them to survive these past few years, that same move has caused a human element to go missing.

This lack of personal interaction is not specific to The Gloss.

Many book clubs formed pre-pandemic suffered a connection loss when moving to online, and it wasn’t due to poor internet.

T-Dot Book Club was formed in 2005 by Kerry Delaney as a way to discuss her favourite books with her friends. It quickly grew into a Toronto-wide book club with over 1,700 members. When Delaney’s club moved online at the beginning of the pandemic, a few members were deterred by the transition.

“Some people just said that they couldn’t do virtual that way,” Delaney says.

But she notes that despite the few who decided to leave the group, the switch to online went smoothly. Former members have even been able to reconnect to their old book club from all across Canada.

“One thing that’s been really nice about [going online] is that we have members who, throughout the course of our 17 years, have moved away,” says Delaney. “We get to see people that we haven’t seen in a long time. That’s a positive outcome.”

In addition to attracting members from across the country, Delaney believes that the pandemic has actually benefited her book club.

“Going through this pandemic together, it’s brought us closer in some ways … It’s good, it’s working really well for us. We’re 22 CanCulture

The club meets once a week through Discord. While it’s a student-led book club, Foriante designed it for students aged 22 and above to read more mature novels with heavier themes and content. With only four members, it’s easier for the group to get to know one another when they meet up online.

“We’re all pretty friendly with each other and we’re all developing more and more warmth towards each other,” notes Foriante.

Asha Swann, a second-year journalism student and one of the few members of the X University Book Club, agreed that the small group size allows for conversation to flow more easily.

“Just having four or five people on the call every week, you really get to know them,” says Swann.

As Foriante’s club was formed in late 2021, every meeting has been held online — and she hopes it stays that way. The fourth-year student is graduating in the spring, so keeping the book club online would allow her to keep attending as an alumna.

“I think I'd like to meet up with everyone in person at least once and go out for a drink or something,” she says.

While Swann still has a few years to go before completing her studies, she also prefers the online format. She says online book clubs are more accessible and comfortable for a wide range of people.

“I live with people who are at risk, so we’ve all tried to minimize how much we’re going out and interacting with people,” she explains. “With online book clubs you can meet virtually whenever or wherever.”

However, while this way of thinking is beneficial for professional settings, it may not be sustainable for book club meetings.

“It’s great to talk about a book, and we certainly have some members that are perhaps very literary and just come for their love of reading, but a lot of people are coming because they want to leave with a friendship, and it’s absolutely harder to foster that online,” explains Woodward.

Ultimately, book club meetings are not designed to be professional; they’re designed to cultivate a bond through a shared interest. When that bond cannot be formed, or something is restricting it from forming, the purpose of the book club becomes blurred.

“You get lost in books. If you find someone who’s read the same thing as you, it’s really exciting to talk about it,” notes Delaney.

A book club is a stepping stone to something bigger; it is a vessel to arrive at a deeper human connection. But with the online format impeding those connections, it might be better to form that bond through the simple reason the club was formed in the first place: the shared love of reading.

Though online formats can offer different benefits and hidden perks, it is questionable to say whether they are adequate replacements for in-person book clubs. When a solid screen is placed between club members, it can often feel like talking to a wall, barricading opportunities for deeper connections and friendships.

Perhaps the broken heroines, honourable warriors and lovable sidekicks found in the pages we hold so close to our hearts can also act as architects in our reality, building bonds soon to be unbreakable.

When multiple people are squished into a Zoom call, all with something to say but none wanting to interrupt or trip over each other’s words, conversations can become impersonal, precluding any bonds from forming.

Woodward explains that book club members often break into smaller groups during in-person meetings in order to have more personal conversations.

“It’s harder to get to know somebody online,” she says. “You can’t have that side conversation with somebody, and that’s really what we’re fostering at the end of the day.”

However, The Gloss founder says that while in-person meetings are better for building relationships, online meetings are better for group discussions because they’re more organized.

“Everyone gets their little platform where they get to talk,” notes Woodward.

Perhaps online book clubs serve a better purpose as a way to dive deep into a novel, rather than to dive deep into a friendship.

It is clear that conversing through a computer screen restricts interactions from entering a deeper level, but the ability to organize professional discussions through platforms like Zoom and Discord could be a significant benefit to holding book club meetings virtually.

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24 CanCulture

The Orpheum Theatre sits vacant amid a busy day in downtown Vancouver.

T

he arts are not only an exceptional part of our society, but as members who work in the industry say, “they’re essential.”

Live performances are something that we once took for granted. It was exhilarating to book a ticket for a show spontaneously, or even to plan ahead and wait for the special night to come. A favourite band, or a dance number, or a highly-anticipated movie are all best experienced live.

These artistic live events bring people together, and the venues that hold them create vibrant atmospheres full of joy. As COVID-19 cases and hospitalizations rose, most events were cancelled, or shifted to a virtual format.

The venues and organizations that host these events were forced to navigate through shutdowns, restrictions and constant fear of the unknown future.

Alan Black, managing director at Hot Docs Ted Rogers Cinema, says that once venues are permitted to host us, they must also gain back our trust.

“Their trust has been eroded,” says Black. “I’m a bit worried about whether or not people will come back.”

We miss the performances and the venues miss us.

The buildings sit on bustling streets empty, dark and sad as they await their longed-for return.

The cinematic experience at home, while accessible and safe, cannot replicate the experience of live arts, explains Black. He describes how people like to be a part of their community and feel like they're part of something bigger than themselves when they go out to see a show or film.

“It's a heightened experience,” says Black. “The lights go down and you’re locked in.”

The Orpheum declares how “The Show Must Go On” as they attempt to re-enter the world of live performances.

In British Columbia, where measures have managed to stay less severe than Ontario at times, venues are still struggling to adapt quickly. A theatre company in Victoria found a creative solution. Their mobile stage for performances would circle around the city and remain outdoors, explains Matthew Payne, founding member of Theatre SKAM. While Payne’s group has managed to continue some collaborations, their musical number planned for May 2020 came to a rapid stop.

“Singing was one of the worst things you could do,” Payne says. “The core artists involved needed time to rethink the project.”

At the time, with limited knowledge of the virus and how it spread, gathering large groups of people in an enclosed space for rehearsals and performances seemed a daunting task as social distancing measures and restrictions on gatherings proved difficult to overcome.

Despite all the challenges, Payne’s theatre group has continued performing and he remains passionate about his work and the arts industry as a whole. Payne argues that the arts are perhaps even more necessary than school.

“One thing the pandemic has shown us is how essential the arts are to our society,” says Payne.

“They’re essential to the way our society functions.”

While some venues may sit desolate, they still hold on to a certain spark that perhaps stems from the hope of their long-overdue return.

Just as the venues need attendees and performers to operate, it’s clear that Canadians also need the show to go on.

CanCulture 25

Left: The 80-year-old Vogue Theatre’s lights are dim as shows continue to be cancelled and postponed during the pandemic.

Bottom: The Stanley Theatre sits on Granville Street in Vancouver. It's been showing shows since the 1930s and remains bright despite cancellations.

Right: The Vogue Theatre sign advertising a show that never got the chance to appear on this stage.

Top: A masked man walks in front of the Carlton Cinema in downtown Toronto which declares its temporary closure.

Top: The popular music venue on Granville Street in Vancouver glows, yet has cancellations posted all over its box office windows.

Left: A sign asking for proof of vaccination seems disregarded as the theatre is dark and empty.

26 CanCulture

Top Right: The Odeon Theatre is bright as it continues to show films to those who mask in downtown Victoria.

Right: Two customers purchase tickets at the Odeon Theatre in Victoria as they wait to see Spider-Man: No Way Home.

Bottom Right: The Stanley Theatre announced performance cancellations to ensure safety after a positive COVID-19 test result.

Left: The Royal Theatre on College Street in Toronto continues to operate its fine food store, Bottega Volo. Yet, its theatre space sits empty.

Left: The Danforth Theatre posts a “See You Soon” sign rather than show announcements as pandemic restrictions make live performances inoperable.

Right: The Hot Docs Ted Rogers Cinema located in Toronto's Annex neighbourhood is known for showing Canadian and international documentary films, yet it remains closed.

Right: The Elgin and Winter Garden Theatre is a double-stacked theatre hall that sits empty as pedestrians and bikers pass by.

Top Left: The Royal Theatre’s ticket booth sits quietly, except for an empty wine bottle as performances remain paused.

Right: Pigeons and litter surround the vacant backstage entrance of the Elgin and Winter Garden Theatre hall.

Top: Two masked pedestrians walk by the Danforth Theatre as it awaits its reopening.

Left: The historic Massey Hall recently underwent extensive renovations, but cancelled multiple performances after a short reopening period. The box office sign remains dim.

Right: The Ed Mirvish Theatre is in Toronto's downtown core, yet remains closed due to the regulations of the province.

CanCulture 27

INDEPENDENT CANADIAN MUSICIANS ARE SPREADING SOCIAL AWARENESS THROUGH THEIR ART The pandemic has been a challenging time for musicians with limited in-person collaboration, but it also presents artists with new opportunities

By Aru Kaul The COVID-19 pandemic had a massive financial impact on the arts, but digital technologies helped stem the decline of creative industries. This was seen through the 73.4 per cent increase in sales in both music and audio streaming services, according to Statistics Canada.

This has given independent musicians the chance to market their music online and grow an audience during the pandemic. Collaboration goes a long way in the world of music, and this is made easier in an online environment due to social media. Now, not only can musicians connect with larger audiences, but they can also target their content toward specific audiences.

Since the start of the pandemic, singer-songwriter Alessia Cohle, based in Mississauga, Ont., has moved most of her performances online.

“Music is not only about establishing a connection with your audience, it’s about community,” says Cohle.

Cohle tapped into her musicianship at age four when she started to learn piano. At eight, she started singing, and at 12, she had officially made up her mind about pursuing a career in music.

“I saw Shania Twain in concert for the first time, pointed at the stage, decided that was what I wanted to do and I haven’t stopped since,” says Cohle.

28 CanCulture

This led her to pursue degrees in music; she has a bachelor’s degree from Western University and a master’s degree from Berklee College.

Cohle strives to impact people with her music and a sense of community is reflected in the work that she does. This mindset is what led her to collaborate with Glimpse, an organization and initiative that helps children learn and express themselves.

Since 2019, the Glimpse team has been raising money for children with cleft palate — a slit on the mouth that is formed by improper development in the womb and affects one in every 750 to 900 babies born in Canada. Glimpse also donates to Operation Smile Canada, an initiative that provides surgical care for children with cleft palates.

“The Glimpse kids are learning what it means to be a decent human being through music, which I think is fantastic,” says Cohle.

“Music is not only about establishing a connection with your audience, it’s about community”

Mickey May, a singer and rapper from Kitchener, Ont., uses his music to advocate for mental health awareness.

According to a 2021 study by Very Well Mind, people with mental health issues feel that they have no one to talk to, causing issues with communication and connection.

But feeling as if you can relate to others tends to help with these mental health issues.

As an independent musician, May does his best to work within his means, while also working towards new levels of creation. He has always been interested in producing and writing and has considered going into film. He hopes to explore this passion further by creating his own cinematic music videos.

“It would be great to have a huge budget and access to more equipment, but as an independent artist, you learn that you don’t need any of that for your vision to come to life,” says May.

Many of May’s songs are about personal experiences, which others can relate to. A specific experience that pushed him to be an artist was being the middle child in his family.

Aishvan, a singer and songwriter from Mississauga, Ont. finds that he has to work with a smaller budget as a university student — he’s currently studying biology at the University of Toronto.

“That natural middle child rebellion played a part in me becoming an artist,” says May.

“I do struggle financially as a student in their mid-twenties. It’s really been just me, my microphone and music software against the world,” says Aishvan.

May strives to be honest in his music and connect with his audience without holding back. Being able to engage with his fans and see how his music impacts them is what pushes him.

This mindset propelled him to drop an EP in 2021 titled Just in Case Tomorrow Never Comes. Through this project, May chose to dive into the hardships he has faced with his mental health. He talks about struggling to live up to expectations and overcoming the fear of what others think.

Aishvan also uses his music as a vessel for discussing his mental health. He recently came out with a song called “I GOTTA GO,” in which he addresses the topic of self-worth during the pandemic. He aims to change conversations about mental health by normalizing them through his music. Through social media, he has been able to create a community of listeners.

May describes his style as “not your typical Toronto sound.” He sees Toronto as the city “where everything happens,” but May aims to create music that people from all over Canada can relate to.

“I’ve always tried to expand my sound to show that just because you are from a certain place, it doesn’t mean you have to fit into a box,” says May. Through the introduction of Canadian arts funds such as Digital Originals, CBC’s creative relief fund and emergency funds for LGBTQ+ artists, some musicians have been finding ways to thrive in collaborative environments.

Aishvan, a singer-songwriter and U of T student.

CanCulture 29

“This song really touches on those late-night intrusive thoughts and feelings that make you just want to get out of bed and drive anywhere to get it out of your head. I have seen people on social media, including old friends, connect with the song,” says Aishvan.

“It’s really been just me, my microphone and music software against the world”

For independent artists who are just starting out, finding the right mentorship for navigating the music industry can also be a challenge. Jat, a singer and rapper from Markham, Ont., says that he mainly relied on tutorials from YouTube.

“A lot of the mentors that I had were in the States, so I always had a long-distance mentorship,” says Jat. Jat attended Seneca College for photography and quickly realized he didn’t like the program. He began to gravitate towards music and would go to the studio at X University with his friends in the radio television arts program.

Since then, music has become a big part of his life.

“The best way to describe me is just music. I would be dead without it,” says Jat. Jat aims to bring people together with his music and connect with them through his own experiences, noting that the pandemic has made it harder to form connections. Many of Jat’s songs are inspired by his own experiences with mental health, which he says got much worse during the pandemic.

30 CanCulture

Jat, a Canadian rapper and singer.

“I feel like music is such a powerful tool that resonates with people and brings them together,” says Jat. Similarly, Cohle’s music is also inspired by her own personal experiences. She released a song called “All Good,” which was inspired by a near-death experience that she went through pre-pandemic.

In 2018, she was staying with her friends in Nashville when a tree fell down on their home. Throughout the entire experience, Cohle kept telling herself that things would be “all good.” The money that was made from this song was donated to Kids Help Phone.

While the pandemic has changed the music scene in Canada, it has also created opportunities that were not previously available. Musicians like Cohle, May, Aishvan and Jat have been using the virtual world and their art to enhance social awareness within and beyond their communities.

Sharing a piece of music with the world is always a vulnerable experience, especially for artists in the pandemic that are showcasing an online presence. Cohle hopes that expressing this vulnerability in her music can help listeners feel validated.

“Music is all about feeling,” she says. “There might be moments where you are in a frustrated state of mind and you put on a certain song to validate your feelings. If I have a song that helps you with that, by all means, go for it!”

Community and celebration in COVID times: The return of Canadian Pride

By Alisha Shaikh

As a response to the mass cancellations, many Canadian organizations opted to host virtual celebrations. These events consisted of virtual parties, podcasts, art installations, screenings and appearances from LGBTQ+ However, many Canadians felt upset and disappointed about the cancellation of in-person Pride celebrations.

Imagine being surrounded by hundreds of LGBTQ+ members and allies, marching through the streets in the summer heat, with countless rainbow being at a Canadian Pride parade. But with lockdowns in place to combat the spread of COVID-19, as with many other Canadian traditions, Pride was disrupted.

Toronto hosts one of the largest LGBTQ+ pride celebrations in all of North America, according to Pride Toronto. Canadians started celebrating Pride in 1973, with a celebration called “Pride Week” held in various cities across the country. The event evolved into the Pride we know today with huge festivities, marches and parades. cities in Canada such as Edmonton, Calgary and Vancouver also cancelled their Pride parades in order to prevent the spread of COVID-19 and protect the health and safety of Canadians.

The cancellation of Canada’s Pride parade two years in a row majorly two-year hiatus, LGBTQ+ communities have faced many injustices. Some feel the cancellations have silenced their Pride and robbed them of a safe place and an outlet to freely express themselves.

Erin Ziegler, a professor at X University with expertise in LGBTQ+ pandemic.

“The pandemic caused many LGBTQ2S individuals to feel more isolated or alone, and some individuals were forced to isolate in unsafe homes with unsupportive family members,” she says. “In addition, cancellations of

In previous years, Toronto would host Canada’s most grand Pride celebrations as it is home to one of the largest LGBTQ+ communities in the country. Many Torontonians would march in the Pride parade, occasionally accompanied by Prime Minister Justin Trudeau. Sadly, this tradition came to a halt during the pandemic, as Toronto had one of the world’s longest lockdowns.

“It’s disappointing to see these kinds of events cancelled multiple years in a row,” says Nalyn Tindall, a journalism student at X University and a proud member of the LGBTQ+ community. “However, due to the situation at the time, I do feel it was necessary to keep people safe.”

Originally from Camrose, Alta., Tindall says she didn’t attend Pride parades before COVID-19 because there weren’t any that took place in her community, and she didn’t have the opportunity to travel.

“Community is important for queer people to feel safe and secure in their identity and I do feel that celebrations provide that sense of community and belonging,” Tindall adds.

“Community is important for queer people to feel safe and secure in their identity” they showcase many LGBTQ+ artists, musicians and politicians. Many Canadian celebrities such as pop star Carly Rae Jepsen, drag superstar taken to the streets of Toronto for the city’s Pride parade in the past.

After years of struggles, many are awaiting a traditional Canadian Pride parade. The Toronto Pride parade will be celebrated again this year in June 2022, and many other Canadian cities are resuming their Pride festivities as well.

Canadians are prepared to bounce back and once again relish in the LGBTQ+ culture and community that wasn’t as accessible during the pandemic. They are ready to take pride in themselves once again.

CanCulture 31

7 Canadian Futuristic Fiction Novels

By Federico S. Gutierrez

Neuromancer

Neuromancer

NEUROMANCER (1984)

BY WILLIAM GIBSON

Tale

THE HANDMAID‘S TALE (1985)

BY MARGARET ATWOOD 32 CanCulture

The Handmaid’s -

DECRIPTION OF THE BOOK/REVIEW/ CRITIQUE ETC.-

BROWN GIRL IN THE RING (1998)

BY NALO HOPKINSON

Spin

SPIN (2005)

BY ROBERT CHARLES WILSON

Station Eleven

DECRIPTION OF THE BOOK/REVIEW/ CRITIQUE ETC. Station Eleven

STATION ELEVEN (2014)

BY EMILY ST. JOHN MANDEL

00 CanCulture CanCulture 33

THE MARROW THIEVES (2017)

BY CHERIE DIMALINE

-

ALL THE ANIMALS ON EARTH (2020)

BY MARK SIMPSON

34 CanCulture

IM VS. CREATIV S I L A T I P A C COMMODIFYING OUR HOBBIES ITY DURING A PANDEMIC

By Ishitaa Chopra The idea of dismantling capitalism sounds peaceful; being able to exist in a world without the need to commodify everything.

While some preach about the disestablishment of capitalistic authority The cycle keeps on spinning, leaving us in an inescapable vacuum of always wanting more but having to constantly settle for less.

Since the start of the pandemic, many small art-based businesses have opened up. People began turning their hobbies into hustles way before COVID-19, but the economic stress of the pandemic can make this pursuit even more intense. Nowadays, it seems everything is about creating for the bucks instead of for our own enjoyment. Many grew up with the notion that if you’re able to do a job that you love, you’ve made it in life. Striving for that greatness, we push ourselves to showcase our

Naturally, I started to miss putting pencil to paper. I realized I wrote not for others, but for me; for my peace and sanity. When I inevitably started writing again and published my second book , it unexpectedly hit the bestseller list.

stability.

As we live in a world where money is considered to be everything, we try to capitalize on the smallest commodities available to us. It’s like being trapped in a race and the only way to win is to obtain the most — even Most small businesses start slow and small by selling goods that they found peace and enjoyment in creating, whether that may be jewelry or art or anything else. From the safe comfort of their homes, small business owners poured sentiments of love and care into their products and, in return, customers received the care that conglomerative businesses often do not adequately provide. ing their love for their craft. Maintaining that love within oneself in a capitalistic war zone is a constant battle. poetry book, BitterSweet, but it didn’t hit the bestseller list. Disappointed and hateful toward my work, I stopped writing for about seven months. This hobby was also my peace in this world, and letting go of it of recognition and money was not worth losing a hobby I derived so much contentment from.

life, I know now that it was not worth the wave of disappointment I felt good enough. I still write poetry, but I prioritize my happiness and love for writing over the success it may or may not bring.

“I still write poetry, but I prioritize my happiness and love for writing over the success it may or may not bring” began styling people for free. Now she is styling A-list celebrities and has worked for the most prominent magazines in the world.

While there were never any doubts about her passion for her work, during her early days, before she rose to great ranks, she felt that her competition was tough. Bigger companies had the clients she dreamed of one day styling.

“They had better marketing and advertising. They were shiny and glossy,” says Kwei.

Small businesses do not have the vast amount of resources that bigger pressure.

I sometimes wonder whether the stress of losing your business is worth it, especially when you lose your love for your hobby as well. Maybe I

$$$$$ $$$$

$$$$

I guess, capitalism may have a chokehold on our creativity, especially when it is showcased to the world. But if you get a chance to break away from that chokehold to let your creativity breathe, you may once again regain a sense of joy and satisfaction.

CanCulture 35

z

The life of going to art galleries, dance exhibitions, and movie theatres

comes to an end?

Eastern

36 CanCulture

Sixteen Candles

CanCulture 37

38 CanCulture

Can laughter be the best medicine?

The Toronto comedy scene and art of standup were drastically affected by the COVID-19 pandemic, but comedy clubs are returning to the city

By Sara Belas

It was a frigid, February night in Toronto and the streets were relatively quiet for a Wednesday. No one else could be seen outside in the isolating, icy winds, but muffled laughter echoes out of a bar near the intersection of Bloor and Ossington.

The Nothing Fancy Bar was hosting one of their many “Late Night Stage Fright” shows, a weekly Monday and Wednesday standup comedy show hosted by Canadian comedian Habib Siam. The event showcases national headliners along with various combinations of the many talented standup comedians in Toronto, all testing out extended sets and new material. The bar advertises it as “well worth staying past your bedtime.” I can vouch for that.

Front entrance of the Comedy Bar in Toronto

It was my first time attending a comedy bar, and my naive assumptions that it would be the same as any Netflix standup special I watched during the height of the pandemic were quickly contradicted.

lounge from the now fully open front door.

The moment you enter the establishment, the bar and waiting area fuse into one, and the singular hallway flows past the bar towards a swing door where the comedy show takes place. As you wait in line for your show, the waiting area begins to fill up as the audience from the first show exits. The crowd is a meld of former audience members and awaiting ones grabbing drinks to warm up from the cold winter air that’s entering the

The performing room is almost comically tiny. A small stage sits in the far right corner of the room, angled so whoever stands on stage would tower over those in the front row. The audience is scattered between 10 to 12 tables and a mic is set up on the stage. Music fills the room and sets a tone of anticipation for the night. People walk in and out with their drinks, gradually filling the room, and fifteen minutes past showtime, the music fades and the show begins.

The 10 p.m. show is set to begin and the awaiting audience makes their way down the hallway.

This seems to be the standard set up for a standup comedy show in Toronto. Or is it? Many long-lasting changes imposed by the pandemic have stayed in place, so the city’s comedy scene looks a little different.

TOrOntO's Pre-Pandemic COmedy Scene Front row seat perspective at The Corner Comedy Club

Toronto is known for being a multicultural metropolis filled with an eccentric and talented cultural and arts scene. And the Toronto comedy scene is no exception.

CanCulture 39

“I think Toronto is a great place to start because there is a lot of stage time,” says Rodrigues, 24.

Rodrigues continues to explain the benefits of starting in Toronto, by comparing Canada to America. In the comedy scene, Canada is viewed as a place of opportunity for comedians. It’s a competitive environment, but one that allows anyone the chance to make it, if they’ve got the drive.

Whereas America is so competitive, comics new to the industry don’t have the same chances.

Pandemic Pressure Stage setup at The Corner Comedy Club in Toronto

“Toronto is a great place to start”

Toronto is known for being a multicultural metropolis filled with an eccentric and talented cultural and arts scene. And the Toronto comedy scene is no exception.

Stereotyped as “Canada’s New York City,” Toronto is a staple hotspot for budding comedians across the nation. Many believe that in order to be successful in America, one must be able to make a name for themselves here.

“If you're somebody who's looking to make that jump from Canada into the States, you need to be in a fast-paced, competitive environment like Toronto,” says Toronto comedian Jarret Campbell.

With 11 years of experience and having performed comedy both internationally and across Canada, Campbell still insists that having Toronto as his starting point and home base makes all the difference.

What makes Toronto’s comedy scene so unique is that despite being within such a major and competitive city, the comedy clubs open doors for new comics to perform alongside professionals like Juliana Rodrigues.

The pandemic negatively affected many businesses and for comedy clubs, it was no laughing matter. It feels as if the city almost forgot about the lively comedy scene in Toronto and those who perform and make a living off of it.

Perhaps one of the most well-known comedy clubs across Canada is Yuk Yuk’s. Their struggle during the pandemic exemplifies the drastic effects that the comedy scene endured.

Yuk Yuk’s had 14 full-time clubs coast to coast, but only 11 of those establishments bounced back. However, that’s not the only metric to look at, founder and CEO Mark Breslin explains — it’s how many shows are taking place.

“Prior to the pandemic, we were doing about 45 shows a week in our actual clubs…Now, I would say we're probably down to about 18 shows a week,” says Breslin.

But what about the little guy? If entire clubs were struggling to stay open, many shutting down altogether, what was happening to the performers?

Breslin describes the various ways he tried to keep his company alive — not only for the organization but for the comics as well. During the pandemic, he attempted to establish virtual and drive-in avenues at Yuk Yuk’s.

“I think Toronto is a great place to start because there is a lot of stage time,” says Rodrigues, 24.

Backstage at the Comedy Lab during a Werd Entertainment organized comedy event hosted by Danton Lamar. Comics pictured: Moe Ismail, Peter Saran, Ben McKay, Anjelica Scannura, Manny Mangat.

40 CanCulture

“The comics needed something even more than their income, which was a place to perform, because that's what they do.

That's their lifeblood. That's why they exist. That's their existential reality. They must perform,” says Breslin.

HOw is the cOmedy scene faring nOw?

Back at The Nothing Fancy Bar, many comedians I saw perform made jokes about how their mental health was affected during this pandemic. When I talked to them individually, the reality was much more serious than the punchlines.

It’s roughly two years later, and the world is still divided on normalcy. For some, life seems to be slowly returning to its old ways, while others' lives remain completely changed by COVID-19. Vaccines have been administered, governments have lifted many restrictions. So is the comedy scene in Toronto back in full force? Do things feel the same?

“My experience in the pandemic was truly so dark and depressing [with] not being able to do standup,” says Rodrigues. “For a lot of comedians, doing comedy is not necessarily a job. All of my self-esteem, my confidence, my inner monologue, all of that comes from doing standup.”

When you take that away, she explains, it leaves some comedians questioning where to find happiness.

Numerous Toronto comedians share how the pandemic halted their careers, many saying how the gigs they would perform with COVID-19 restrictions weren’t the same.

“You can't really feel the full excitement of things because venues were only allowed to fill up like 25 per cent or 50 per cent,” says Rodrigues.

Every comedian’s eyes light up whenever I ask how they feel to be slowly coming back to performing. Whether it was through a Zoom call or in the corner of a dark, crowded bar, the excitement radiating from each comic was electrifying.

These emotions were not only seen within the comedians but could be felt within the audience of each standup show I attended.

“I do sense that people are eager to get out and they give you that energy that you need and can feed off of,” shares Rodrigues. “It's more of an exciting reaction that you get now for sure.”

Many comedians did try out the virtual route with their careers.

Lamar recounts experiencing similar reactions at his first show back in person. He says audiences were more receptive and the long-awaited anticipation helped build the excitement and overall mood of the shows.

Rodrigues shares how the online shows helped ease any nerves she would’ve had performing new material on stage, as she could have her notes and scripts in front of her.

“Comedy shows are supposed to be a joyous situation, yes.

But nobody had ever been that happy to be involved on both sides. It was just a palpable energy,” Lamar says.

Others struggled with virtual shows, particularly with small turnouts. Comedian Danton Lamar explains his breaking point for doing comedy online. He describes one rough night performing on Twitch, an interactive livestreaming service, as brutal.

But between these words of eagerness were emotions of unease. Many comedians are still weary and nervous about the world quickly jumping into its long-awaited reopening.

“I've done comedy shows to like three people, but just doing the show in your kitchen to no response online — yeah, it was brutal. So I'm done with [it],” Lamar says.

Not only did restrictions and virtual shows make performing feel different, but the pandemic as a whole affected many comedians' creativity. Campbell shares how despite refusing to do any virtual shows and throwing himself into several writing projects, he still faced an artist's biggest challenge: lack of inspiration.

“The longer it went on, it got harder and harder to write standup when you can't go do standup,” says Campbell.

The pandemic hit the comedy scene of Toronto so hard that some comedians had to pick up part-time jobs. Both Lamar and Dylan Gott, two well-established comedians, share how they had to outsource their income. Gott became a janitor for the Toronto District School Board and Lamar stayed full-time as a copywriter at his day job.

“Now that things are back at full capacity, it feels like how it used to in a way, but also with the sense of, ‘this could disappear at any minute.’ So let's just take it all in while we can,” Rodrigues says.

Some even share their worries about going back on stage after being off for so long.

“It feels really good to be doing shows again. But the stage legs are kind of missing,” says Campbell. “Actually getting back out there feels great. But I would say I'm not where I want to be again yet as a performer.”

Like almost every other business and social culture, long-term effects of the pandemic are still lingering in Toronto’s comedy scene. But despite the numerous obstacles these comedians and clubs have faced, a sense of hope can be felt with each laugh.

CanCulture 41

CANCULTURE RECOMMENDS Escapism can be a beautiful thing — when the world outside of our homes is terrifying, who doesn’t want to transport themselves to the halls of Degrassi High, lose themselves in a page-turning thriller, or dream about Mr. Darcy for an afternoon? CanCulture’s masthead is it through, too.

Ocean Waves (1993) Recommended by John Vo, Film Editor

Degrassi: The Next Generation

Recommended by Madeline Liao, Graphic Designer

Degrassi The Next Generation

I’m Thinking of Ending Things by Iain Reid Recommended by Olivia Wiens, Arts & Books Editor I’m Thinking of Ending Things

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Pride and Prejudice (2005)

Recommended by Sama Nemat Allah, Managing Editor

Pride and Prejudice

Bo Burnham’s Inside

Recommended by Annemarie Cutruzzola, Editor in Chief

Inside

Pray for Paris - Westside Gunn

Recommended by Isaac Fontes, Music Editor

Pray for Paris

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Pray for Paris

CanCulture 43

CaDENCE WEApON’s PARaLLel WORld IS A FIRST PERSON EXPRESSION OF THE BLACK CANADIAN EXPERIENCE

by ISAAC fONtES

Each year, the Polaris Music Prize is awarded to the best Canadian album of the year “based on artistic merit In 2021, the prize was deservingly awarded to Cadence Weapon for the beautifully bold Parallel World. Political themes are at the forefront of the album, as he calls out politicians; “Mayor Tory doesn’t ride the bus / Or ride a bike or ride for us / So how can he understand what we want?“ Toronto Premier Doug Ford is the target of the corporations / But he don’t care about the public / Whenever we ask for what we need / They say there’s no room in His messaging is clear as day, as he utilizes his skills, voice and platform to bring light to social issues and the Black Released on April 30, 2021, Parallel World is a direct result of unchanged systemic and political racism that has actively often assumed narrative that these issues are not present in Canada is simply not true; a 2013 report by UFCW Canada found that 18 per cent of men from racialized communities reported experiencing discrimination and/or unfair treatment when dealing with the police (compared The same report found that Black men living in Toronto systemic racial inequalities and racist treatment at the tionately infecting and killing racialized and immigrant Throughout the pandemic, Canadians were also turning to something to connect to, as music consumption among months of 2021, according to a survey by MCR Data and

44 CanCulture

eOne Music, 2021 Perhaps no album better represents these struggles than Parallel World uses his experiences as a Black Canadian to address themes

His lyrics carry weight and will make you think while you

diverse list of producers, is rather complex, as it experiments with aspects of trap and grime, pulling from multi-

Parallel World was one of 2021’s most powerful hip-hop releases, deservingly receiving attention for its over the past two years, music has been one of the most Albums like this provide us with both inspiration and optimism for the future, as Weapon works to bring light to important issues and provide us with something to

MAStHEAD PLAYLIST

SK8ER BOI AVRIL LAVINGE

“Can I make it any more obvious? A classic Canadian bop!”

- Annemarie Cutruzzola,

Some of the CanCulture masthead’s favourite Canadian songs; featuring a mix of classics and newer releases.

Editor in Chief

A CASE OF YOU

JONI MITCHELL

FAVOURITE COLOUR

- Olivia Wiens,

STARS ALIGN

Arts & Books Editor

CARLY RAE JEPSEN

MAJID JORDAN FT. DRAKE

- Madeline Liao, Graphic Designer

SAVE YOUR TEARS

EVERGREEN SCOTT HELMAN

- Nishat Chowdhury Features Editor

- Sama Nemat Allah, Managing Editor

THE WEEKND

GHOST

JUSTIN BIEBER

- Samreen Maqsood,

“Love the 80s synth-pop glamour of this song. this sound so well.”

- John Vo,

Fashion Editor

Film Editor

THROUGH & THROUGH & THROUGH JOEL PLASKETT

- Anastasia Blosser,

PUT YOUR HEAD ON MY SHOULDER PAUL ANKA

“Whether you knew this song from TikTok or before, gotta agree it’s a timeless serenade.”

- Jennifer Nguyen, Food Editor

LOVESICK UTOPIA

Graphic Designer

CHARLOTTE DAY WILSON

- Isaac Fontes, Music Editor

SAY IT RIGHT NELLY FURTADO

ALL TO MYSELF

MARIANAS TRENCH

- Abby Grant, Lead Graphic Designer

“The song’s super catchy and puts me in a good mood.”

- Joanne Chan,

Social Media Associate

CanCulture 45

CROSSWORD CROSSWORD Canadian Edition

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1. Ski resort and host of three sporting venues in the 2010 Winter Olympics 11. A publication dedicated to bringing you the latest in 12. Popular women's fashion brand founded in Vancouver 16. French fries, cheese curds, and gravy 17. Largest and northernmost Great Lake in North America in P.E.I. 19. Author of The Handmaid’s Tale 20. Site of the Klondike Gold rush 46 CanCulture

Down:

2. “Always Fresh” 3.

5. “My Heart Will Go On” 6.

TV series 9.

10. An early settler in the Maritime provinces 13. The inventors of toboggans and kayaks 14. Third studio album released by The Weeknd 15.

17. Group of _____, famous landscape painters

Answers

Across:

I T ’S N O T A R E T R O G R A D E , T H I S I S J U S T LI F E R I G H T N O W

By Breanna Schnurr

Like many individuals, I was drawn to the exciting world of witchcraft during the pandemic. Armed with Instagram astrology, I dove headfirst into this spiritual realm. I quickly discovered the dedication required to manifest my desires, control the elements, speak to the dead—you get the idea. While I am by no means an expert on All Things Astrological, I hope you resonate with these horoscopes and find some insight into your past, present, and future pandemic selves.

ARIES

March 21 — April 19 Aries, this year looks promising! On May 10, Jupiter enters your sign. As Jupiter is the planet of expansion, luck and travel, you have power on your side. This luck will last until Oct. 28, when Jupiter enters Pisces retrograde. However, this bit of luck will return to you Dec. 20 when Jupiter goes direct. What does this mean? The world is your oyster! Take this year to grow and travel, luck is on your side!

CANCER

TAURUS

GEMINI

Taurus, I hate to be the bearer of bad news (or maybe good news?), but you are ~still~ caught in a whirlwind of change and growth. Tauruses are nearly halfway through a seven-year date with Uranus. Uranus, the planet of change and rebellion, makes your luxurious selves feel a little off-kilter. So, take this year to shake off the pandemic dust, and let go of anything that does not serve you. Storm-surfing is easier with less baggage.

Geminis, you have a few streaks of good energy this year! Mercury, the planet of communication, transits into Gemini from April 29 to May 22, and from June 13 to July 4. As Mercury is the home sign of Gemini, these months are times for effective communication. Furthermore, you have a long run ahead with the energetic and passionate Mars. With these planets behind you, Gemini, you can put energy and passion into your ideas and maintain effective communication with those around you.

April 20 — May 20

June 21 — July 22

LEO

Lovely Cancers, you do not have any long-term planetary transits visiting your sign this year— but it’s not all bad! As you are ruled by our ever-transiting moon, you have enough on your plate already. Do some self-care—real self-care, and pay attention to how your mood fluctuates with the moon. You may just learn something about yourself.

Leos, you can expect a lot from Jupiter hanging around with your fiery sibling Aries in the second half of this year. With all this energy burning big and bright, like the sun you are, this could be the time for you to step into the limelight. Think about what you missed doing during the pandemic, and make plans with friends while the luck of Jupiter is fired up!

LIBRA

SCORPIO

Loving Libras, you have some chatting to do in these coming months. On Aug. 25, and again on Oct. 10, the planet of communication, Mercury, will be making itself at home in your sign. This is a good thing! Mercury feels comfortable with you. Make sure to utilize this easy-breezy communication, maybe even without social distancing. ;)

Scorpios, your home planet, the intense and determined Pluto, has been transiting in Capricorn since 2008, and will continue to do so until 2024. This means you’ve spent around 14 years of your life questioning systems — either outwardly or inwardly. However, the Pluto retrograde from Apr. 29 to Oct. 8 will force you to push yourself out of your comfort zone. These five months are the perfect time to set boundaries, speak up and start advocating for yourself.

Sept. 23 — Oct. 22

CAPRICORN

Dec. 22 — Jan. 19

Caps, there is a focus on you near the end of this year, as Mercury enters your sign on Dec. 6 and Venus enters your sign on Dec. 9. Besides the planetary social gathering in December, Capricorn will still feel the effects of her ruling planet Saturn experiencing the fluid Aquarian energy. This means, dear Caps, that you can loosen the leash a little. Kick your feet up, and take a load off!

July 23 — Aug. 22

Oct. 23 — Nov. 1

AQUARIUS

Jan. 20 — Feb. 18

Aquarius, you’re sitting pretty in one of your home signs. Saturn, the planet of structure, limits and discipline, transited into Aquarius back in 2020 where it will stay until 2023. You’ve matured and gained plenty of life experience during this Saturn transit — but you’re not out of the woods yet! Take this last year in stride with your typical Aquarian perseverance and come out the other end with a story to share.

May 21 — June 20

VIRGO

Aug. 23 — Sept. 22 Okay Virgos, your five-year plan is pencilled in, correct? Because this year signifies big career plans for you! Mars in Gemini means putting in the work for your work. A quick word of caution: Mercury (your home sign) retrograde happens in Virgo from Sept. 9 to Oct. 2. You will be particularly affected by this retrograde—beware of miscommunication, especially when it comes to your work life.

SAGITTARIUS Nov. 22 — Dec. 21

My sweet Sags, you are riding Jupiter’s wave this year. Your ruling planet switching between the watery Pisces and the fiery Aries will cause emotional tidal waves, so suit up! Make sure you take the time to emotionally regulate, as it will do you (and everyone around you) some good.

PISCES

Feb. 19 — March 20 Pisces, your year is a little less wild than some of your buddies. The psychic and dreamy Neptune (your home planet) is still hanging out with you, meaning you’re feeling comfortable.

However, Neptune will be going through a retrograde from June 28 to Dec. 3. During this time, you will want to “set your sights straight.”

Use the second half of this year to ground yourself, and focus on the present. There is no time like it!

Exhausting and exhilarating: What it's like to be a journalism student in a pandemic The stories you just read were written, edited and designed entirely by students at X University — many of us journalism students. As the CanCulture team documented the stories of other Canadians, we were inspired to share our own pandemic experience. Third-year X University journalism student and CanCulture fashion editor Samreen Maqsood reflects on her time attending J-school remotely, and how these trying times have strengthened her passion as a journalist.

While the trajectory of people’s lives may have come to a standstill because of COVID-19, the media industry has not. News never sleeps, but the journalists who create and curate the news sure need it.

Throughout this pandemic, journalists have gone above and beyond to report on daily COVID-19 updates, impacts of the disease on the human body and mind, on businesses, on children, on frontline workers. Going out into the world with an unknown virus, reporting on deaths, economic and socio-political crises can take a toll on anyone’s mental health.

There has never been a more exciting and tiring time to be a journalism student. Before the pandemic, journalism classes were often hours long, consisting of six to seven-hour labs and stressful story reporting days.

However, one-on-one time with my instructors and a close group of classmates helped me easily understand the basics of student journalism, like how to find strong story ideas or write a stellar news story in just a few hours.

But with the shift to online learning, my sudden day-to-day responsibilities felt heavier and heavier with each passing hour. Each assignment, meeting, class, work shift, interview and pitch all felt like the world’s hardest task to complete. The fatigue of various lockdowns and staying at home for most of the day began to plague me, spreading throughout my body and tightening its grip. My motivation as a student began to falter. I took longer and longer to complete a simple assignment or respond to an email.

But my passion for journalism allowed me to push through.

As journalists, we certainly had to shift our routines to adapt to our “new normal,” but it was a change that I believe was 100 per cent worth it. Even during a global pandemic, there were many little things that gave me hope.

Conducting interviews over Zoom felt weird at first, but sources were more than happy to accommodate meeting requirements and were thrilled that student journalists were bringing light to important topics in an engaging way.

48 CanCulture

During the past two years as a virtual student, I wrote stories that dove into the effects of the pandemic: the mental health impacts of living alone, how students reconnected with their inner artists, and what it’s like to pursue a creative career during COVID-19.

Working mainly online allowed me to strengthen my research skills and refine my pitches. I wrote more data-driven stories, relating everyday life to facts and current events. Using databases, Twitter threads and surveys to find the right data to support my stories always seemed like the hardest part, but with technology being at the forefront of everything during the pandemic, gathering information became more and more fun.

I also had the opportunity to be an editor at three different campus publications. I had always dreamed of going into a newsroom, sitting with my fellow editors and pitching story ideas, but with the pandemic, we shifted all operations online. It was an adjustment period that I found made it harder to establish relationships and connect with my fellow masthead and writers beyond the work we do.

However, I tried to find ways around that. Welcoming both journalism and non-journalism students as writers gave me the opportunity to work with a diverse group of students, writing styles and ideas. I started following up with writers even after their stories were published, thanking them once again for their contributions, catching up and wishing them luck in their future endeavours, and sometimes developing friendships through social media.

The pandemic has been an important time for journalists to strengthen reporting skills, learn to adapt to new environments and confront challenges head-on. We may have had a temporary setback, but journalism students are one of the strongest groups of people I know. Through hardships and ease, we push out stories that change the world, the way people think and the information they consume. People may have doubts about the industry, but from everything I have seen, learned and experienced during my time at journalism school, I know that we are at the forefront of change. These trying times have only strengthened the will and determination of student journalists. I know that as we slowly start returning to campus, we’ll continue to make big headlines.

C

Amidst it all, the arts are alive and here to stay.