Raspberry magazine - Summer 2018

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Summer 2018

Raspberry Editorial Team Katie Stobbart Editor-in-Chief

Jess Wind Raspberry publishes letters to the editor of 150 words or less. Letters should be sent via email to info@raspberrymag. ca. The editors reserve the right not to print a letter for any reason.

Associate Editor

If you have a tip for arts, culture, or community coverage, let us know.

Design & Illustration

Dessa Bayrock Literary Arts Curator

Aymee Leake Visual Arts Curator

Valerie Franklin Jennifer Hickey

Aymee Leake Katie Stobbart

Cover Art: Kendra Schellenberg

Contributors The Red Press Society is a non-profit organization dedicated to raising the profile and stimulating the growth of local arts, culture, and community life in the Fraser Valley.

Interested in supporting local arts and culture? Help us continue publishing, host events, and provide a space for the Fraser Valley culture to grow and thrive. Email red.press@raspberrymag.ca for details.

Cat Friesen Lian McIntyre Kendra Schellenberg Sarah Sovereign Ron Sweeney

Red Press Society Board of Directors Jess Wind President

Dessa Bayrock Secretary

Aymee Leake Treasurer

Lian McIntyre Member-at-large

Katie Stobbart Executive Director

contents Old Streets, New Pages Comic book culture in Downtown Abbotsford

Chilliwack in 24 Hours Getting to know Chilliwack with Sarah Sovereign

Strange Adventures: A Boy & His Betta Collaborative community story from Berry Fest

Love Me True: On Marriage Book review by Dessa Bayrock

Nine Phones and Counting Documenting the Valley’s disappearing payphones

Uncanny Valley: Poems Poems at Point Roberts and the Mission Monastery

FlowerEyes and the Feminine (cover) Art by Kendra Schellenberg

10 24 35 48 52 56 66

from the editor...

Shovels, buckets, and trowels: low-barrier entry to making art this summer Katie Stobbart Each summer, the Red Press Society and Raspberry team sets up a table at a series of local events and hosts a collaborative arts activity. Last year we ran collaborative paintings; this year visitors to our table could add a line to a collaborative story (page 35). The idea with these activities is to give a low-barrier opportunity for community members to engage with an arts activity and flex their creative muscles. Aside from being fun, creative and collaborative practice is useful: it enhances our abilities to problem-solve, relate to others, 4

and communicate ideas, and provides opportunities to relax and embrace play in our everyday lives. One of the things we hear from people is “I have no imagination” or “I’m not creative.” But, like any other muscles, creative muscles need to be used and trained. It’s less about not having an imagination and more about not being in the practice of using it. So, in case you missed us at Berry Fest or are thirsty for more, here are a few low-barrier-to-entry ways to flex your creative muscles this summer.

If you like hitting the beach, try making sand sculptures — bring a variety of shovels, buckets, and trowels.


use pebbles, driftwood, and other found natural items to make a mosaic in the sand

In general, try to focus on the experience instead of the product— it’s okay if what you make is silly or surreal, and play is a big part of creativity. If you’re feeling stuck, collaborate with someone you feel comfortable with, or bring a couple types of art together. If nothing else, you’ll have a great memory of trying something new together. 5

If you like camping, try telling a round robin story around the campfire — each person in turn adds a sentence in turn to create a single, often zany tale.

If you like sports, try creating your own sport! Plan it on paper or make it up as you go

or warm up with some improv games that focus on team-building.


If you like summer parties, try replacing party games with improv games.

If you like documenting your summer on instagram, try going old-school with a photo collage or scrapbook. Have friends and family add photos of mutual trips and activities. Feeling more ambitious? Take inspiration from Sarah Sovereign (page 24) and do an artistic photo series.


If you like yoga, try painting, which is a relaxing and nearmeditative arts activity. Try going abstract: experiment with shapes, colours, and textures.

Pro tip You can get cheap paints and painting surfaces at the dollar store to try out a new activity for a low cost.


Looking for inspiration? Check out local bulletin boards and Facebook events for arts shows and performances near you. Summer is a great time to find theatre, art, and music close to home.
















T t h g

P i c w



6 PM


24 PHOTOS IN 24 HOURS a snapshot Sarah Sovereign

The 24 hour Portrait Project means taking portraits of rad people every hour, for 24 hours — getting a small glimpse of Chilliwack, B.C.

Part of the reason I decided to start this project is because I kept seeing and hearing cyclical conversations that were beginning and ending with problems. As a therapist, and artist passionate about my community, I fully believe that there is heal-

ing in connection and community — and this project very much reflects that. I love meeting with everyone during the project, and I definitely feel the support from the people following along throughout the project day. Yes, there are issues, heartache, and hardship in our city, but I absolutely believe that working together with empathy, love, and support can bring positive change. Let’s highlight and connect with what an amazing group of people we have living in our beautiful city.

To see the full project, visit instagram.com/sarahsovereign 25

6 a.m. // the absolutely lovely Sarah from @ dairysecretary and a fresh bouquet of flowers. Sarah is a dairy farmer in our community, and “passionate about the City’s agricultural roots and future” — her favourite thing to do in Chilliwack is “Anything with my family, but mostly grow things, care for cows, drive tractor, attend meetings. I'm an active member of the agricultural community and love doing anything to connect with consumers”. Also, she is DELIGHTFUL. Thanks for the early morning visit, @dairysecretary ! 26

7:30 am // Audrey & her bicycle. Audrey just celebrated her 80th birthday (can you believe it?!) and is out for a morning ride. Also: she is AMAZING!



12pm // @homeiswherethehiveis Chelsea of @ feather.rose.supportbags - Chelsea provides beautiful bags to people undergoing cancer treatments. The bags are full of supportive, amazing, and mostly local goods. Her hard work makes such an awesome impact on our community — thank you for all you do Chelsea! {her crown is by my pal Siobhan of @shiverzdesigns } // we based this shoot partly around a shoot I did with Chelsea’s mother-in-law Dana in 2016. It’s amazing to see Dana’s beautiful legacy continue in the work Chelsea and @foreverbeautifulreal continue to do. See the instastories for an image of Dana we based Chelsea’s portrait around.

2:30 pm // @willowbiemond spoke to us about the Youth Health Centre here in Chilliwack! The YHC is a drop in counselling centre for youth ages 12-26 with a Doctor onsite. It’s full of amazing, awesome, caring people! It’s open Tuesday’s at the Neighbourhood Learning Centre (at Chilliwack Secondary) from 1-7 pm, and Thursday’s at the Sto:lo Wellness Centre from 2-7pm. (Additional sidenote: It was so important for me to include the YHC in this project - they are AMAZING, and this is where I did my internship for my Masters in Counselling. One thing I definitely want to bring to the third round are more community resources folded into the overall project.)


5 pm // we got crescent moon tattoos with the fabulous @robynmarshalltattoo in her cool studio. Thank you so much for my first tattoo Robyn! About this project, Robyn says “I would love to be a part of connecting people in this city. In a small way you don’t feel so alone anymore when you see yourself as part of something bigger then you.” We couldn’t agree more. Thank you everyone for participating and following along


6 pm // @everafprincessgetting some ice cream at @frostyscultuslake // Emily, co-owner with Pauline, says “We are just a bunch of grown ups who are lucky enough to have a business where we can be kids for a while. And make dreams come true.�


8 pm // this rad group of women dragonboated their way into our hearts tonight — taking us all along cultus lake in their sweet, sweet ride! @coco_and_the_lake submitted her team because, “the sense of community I've gained from joining a dragon boat club has influenced the course of my life and I'd like to have it captured in a photo”. I hope we did that - we had a blast! Thank you @suddenimpactpaddlingclub !!


10 pm // this is Becca from @naturessupply ! She says she was “born and raised in Chilliwack! I went to school to pursue a career in teaching. When I graduated, I decided to take a leap and change directions by starting my own company! I’m passionate about natural living and wanted to create a company around that! You will often find me concocting some sort of natural cleaning recipe and it often involves vinegar” Check out her work at @naturessupply 33

by Aymee Leake


Did you see us at Berry Fest?

Because we have a story to tell... 35

A Bubb

The Strange Adventures

written by the comm illustrated by Aym


ble Burst

s of a Boy and his Betta


mee Leake

Part One The sky was grey and threatening rain the morning of the Berry Festival. The chrome wheels of the 40 year-old Mustang were not glistening in the sun. The engine roared to life as Ben turned the ignition. Mr. Bubbles the betta fish began to slosh in his dashboard mason jar. Ben needed to find a place to park in Abbotsford’s busy downtown. He was keenly aware of the strict two hour parking limits and the $50 parking tickets. Mr. Bubbles was indifferent to Ben’s parking plight but was enjoying the view nonetheless. Then, off in the distance, Mr. Bubbles and Ben saw a large ominous, quite suspicious looking creature, with one glass eye and long stringy eyelashes blowing in the wind. The earth began to shake and tall orange clouds seeped out of the ground. Then they dropped back into the ground as it continued to shake, now more aggressively. For a brief moment, Mr. Bubbles considered winning free circus tickets so he could run away. He may even consider taking Ben with him. Running away is tiring business though, so Ben and Mr. Bubbles would need to pack a big lunch and lots of water. The orange cloud gathered behind them. It was like orange glitter being thrown into the air by crowds of BC Lions fans. Suddenly, the skies parted, allowing the summer sun to shine through, catching the glitter, which cast a glare in Ben’s rearview mirror.


As Ben was looking in the rearview mirror, he saw an odd sight — it appeared to be an upside-down pyramid. Mr. Bubbles reached into his packed lunch, but to his dismay the food was spoiled. At this point, Ben looked back into his rearview mirror and saw that he was being tailgated by a dishevelled clown riding a monstrous bear. Thankfully, Ben knew that bears feared orange glitter, so as he ran away, he tossed glitter gleefully over his shoulder. (Editor’s Note: Ben always kept a pouch of glitter in his adventuring bag for occasions just like this.)

Ben looked back into his rearview mirror and saw that he was being tailgated by a dishevelled clown riding a monstrous bear. “That was a close one — luckily we’ve gotten ourselves out of all kinds of scrapes in the past few years, haven’t we Mr. Bubbles?” Ben said, chuckling and giving Mr. Bubbles’ mason jar a pat. Mr. Bubbles exhaled, took a sip of his rosehip kombucha and tilted his head up towards the sitka spruce. The waxing crescent moon, already visible in the summer sky, looked like a toenail clipping. “I miss having feet,” he sighed.


“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” Ben scratched his right ear and avoided eye contact. The road stretched far into the distance, shimmering in the noonday heat, a black ribbon of streaming asphalt, cutting a slash through the dusty landscape.


Part Two Slowly the two emerged into their next stop — a daunting hotel littered with broken shingles and cracked windows. But they heard Mozart drifting out a second story window, filling the air with peace and curiosity. It was quite an unexpected juxtaposition — they had to go in. Mr. Bubbles shook in his jar and Ben felt a bead of sweat roll down his cheek. What would they find behind the daunting, dark door? He gripped the rusty doorknob and opened it slowly. It let out a sickening creak. He let out a small gasp, as any human would, afraid, but


curious at what he wo open, and shut his eyes

It was a complete rep

“Wow! How can thi there,” said Ben.

Yet as he crossed th disappeared, and anot out of nowhere. The fl them and as they hit th mice screeched around Luckily, the mason jar w shatterproof glass, for o They quickly, frantically,

ould see. He pushed it s tight.

plica of himself.

get out of there. Ben had a sinking feeling they would face their end by nibbling.

is be? I am here and

“Ouch,” he cried. The first mice teeth sunk into his finger.

he threshold, the vision ther surprise appeared floor gave way beneath he ground, hundreds of d them. (Editor’s note: was made of very sturdy occasions just like this.) y, searched for a door to

Soon thereafter all the mice ran toward a bright light, where they devoured a mountain of cheddar cheese. (Editor’s note: Ye of little faith, Ben! It always works out in the end!) Suddenly, Ben woke up in a shock, realising all the chaos was only a dream.

Mr. Bubbles shook in his jar and Ben felt a bead of sweat roll down his cheek. What would they find behind the daunting, dark door?


Part Three Ben had fallen asleep trying to find a place to park. As he was waking up, a most curious thing happened. All of a sudden, Ben’s precious Dodge Caravan — not the 40’s Mustang he’d been dreaming about — began to shake. Ben got out of the car to find a very excited “Berry” on the roof shaking the car. (Editor’s note: For those of you who don’t know, Berry is the Berry Festival mascot: a giant berry! Cute, right? Well, maybe not in this instance... ) It would seem like Ben was in quite the jam. It felt like the world was shaking around him as the car rocked. The thunder from the impending storm shook the blueberries and raspberries, but they held tight on the bushes that lined the parking lot. Ben, however, did not. With all the crazy shaking, he was thrown from the vehicle and went sprawling into the blackberry bushes. That is when Ben had a horrific thought. ***Was Mr. Bubbles a lie? Where is the Bubs? Then it dawned on him.

Was Mr. Bu 42

“These aren’t blackberry bushes, they’re sea anemones! I AM MR. BUBBLES,” Ben screamed, then more calmly, added. “Nice to know you, Mr. Bubbles.” Mr. Bubbles turned in surprise. “Who said that?” “It is the grinch, here to take all your Christmas gifts away.” (Editor’s note: It’s at this point Ben — or rather, Mr. Bubbles — gosh, this is getting confusing — let out a hysterical giggle.) “Lol jk. I am your father. No, that doesn’t feel right either…” “Mr. Bubbles I think you need to chill out and have a cup of tea, or go have a beer.” It didn’t make any sense, but slowly Ben came to terms with his reality. He was Mr. Bubbles; Mr. Bubbles was him. Despite clear memories of the glitter clouds, upside down pyramids, mice-infested Mozart mansions and car-shaking berries, he knew he was still just a fish. Albeit a rather peculiar fish. (Editor’s note: I’ll say. Luckily, Mr. Bubbles had an idea of what to do on occasions just like this.)

ubbles a lie? 43

Don’t drink so much beer that you burst. Part Four So, Mr. Bubbles went and a had a beer, then another, and another, and on and on he went drinking beer. Well guess what? He had so many beers that Mr. Bubbles burst. The moral of this part, folks: don’t drink so much beer that you burst. (Editor’s note: Or really, don’t drink so much of anything that you burst. What happened next was very expensive.) Mr. Bubbles then went to the doctor who then sent him to the surgeon to put him back together again. After the surgery the doctor re-named him Frankensteinbu-


bollibubblson (or Raspbubble for short). Part of his recovery was eating raspberries, those yummy, yummy berries. At least three a day for 20 years. As Raspbubble, formerly Mr. Bubbles (or was it Ben?), munched away on his fruity morsels of Abbotsford agriculture, he looked at the sky and was struck by its now cheery blue hue. How beautiful the sky looked as it smiled upon him. Raspbubble longed to sprout wings and take in the grandeur of the land from above. “Maybe next time,” thought Ben. “On our next adventure.”

The End Thank you to everyone who wrote a piece of this story.


A Bubble Burst Discussion Questions


How does the story reflect aspects of Fraser Valley culture? Are there any ideas or elements that are uniquely “valley”?


Until the revelations about Ben’s identity, Ben is a relatively flat and static character. What are the advantages of writing him this way?



Mr. Bubbles is shown as drinking kombucha and beer, and living in a mason jar. How does Mr. Bubbles reflect our perceptions of what is means to be “cultured”? Are there other examples of this in the story?


How do the surreal, dream-like elements of the story — like the orange dust and the clown riding a bear — reflect our cultural fears and anxieties? How are these fears addressed?


Later in the story, we discover that Ben, somehow, is Mr. Bubbles. How does this affect your interpretation of earlier parts of the story?


The story features an individual experiencing chaotic and confusing events, and coming to a revelation about personal identity. In this context, how would you describe the story’s theme?

Submit your answers to info@raspberrymag.ca




“Who n happily 48


The most compelling thing about this collection is that, overall, these essays and stories and poems do not make a compelling case for marriage. “I found someone to love — eventually,” these writers seem to caution, “but honestly— what are the chances? Get out while you can! Save yourself!”

“I hadn’t realized how much sheer work it would take to subvert a centuries-old, enshrined institution from the inside,” writes Monica Meneghetti. “Our families, our books and films, our communities all instilled lessons in how to be married before we had a chance to decide for ourselves.”

At first, this was a relief. As someone in a mumble-yearslong relationship, the last thing I needed was a book of essays written in the classic voice of the well-meaning relative: Thinking about getting hitched? How long have you been together? Are you ever going to settle down? This collection has none of that; in fact, it explicitly frowns on rushing into a relationship, of trusting the institution of marriage to ensure or shore up the love between two people. If I had a dollar for every failed first marriage in these essays, and rightfully failed, I might add, then I could buy another copy of this book.

“How easy it is to coerce the events of our lives into a story. It happens without thought, without instinct,” writes Michelle Kaeser. “What might have been an offhand remark, a forgotten conversation, an unimportant fuck, a meaningless glance, now gathers weight as each becomes a plot point in a grander story, a love story.”

needs marriage? demands the y married writer. It’s a crock!” 49

This perceived inevitability is part of the the scary part of marriage — that we’re all just trains on a track rushing towards a predetermined destination with predetermined stops along the way. The other scary part is that, once we get there, we cease to be ourselves — instead becoming an inextricable part of a couple, one half of a whole instead of something complete in and of itself. And yet, as much as these writers are wary of “true love,” and eager to warn the hapless reader away

from marriage, these sturdy relationships and their structures, both legal and romantic, begin to seem less like something to avoid and more like a coveted resource. After all, regardless of their struggles, these writers have love, value love, fiercely protect and defend their love, even as they find themselves frankly baffled by their luck. Listening to their warnings, then, begins to feel like someone trying to pull a fast one. Who needs marriage? demands the happily married writer. It’s a crock!

“The result is a book that seeks to understand marriage, rather than a book that seeks to sell or even celebrate marriage.”


Here we find the real moral of the book: marriage — and, to some extent, romantic love as a whole — is a total crock. But that doesn’t mean it’s not useful, or desirable, or necessary. It’s an important cognitive dissonance: to believe in the power of love and marriage, and, at the same time, admit that these social forms of affection don’t get a free pass. The things you love deserve to be interrogated and critiqued, because that’s the only way they can be truly understood. The result is a book that seeks to understand marriage, rather than a book that seeks to sell or even celebrate marriage. It’s more than the reader probably bargained for, and yet exactly what someone picking up a book of marriage essays probably needs. These essays are all, on some level, blushing and blundering and bashful about the fact that their love has to take centre

stage; feelings are easier to describe when they’re ugly and self-sabotaging, but how to describe something as stupid and inexplicable and lucky as falling in love? Forever? More than anything, these stories have an aching undertone to them — the struggle to write about something deeply personal without fucking it up. How can we present the people we love to the world in this way, baring everything, knowing that the world cannot and will not love our spouses, our lovers, our people as totally, as complexly, as perfectly, as deeply as we do? Or, as Lorna Crozier puts it, “Who wants to hear / about twenty-six years of screwing, / our oncenot-unattractive flesh / now loose as unbaked pizza dough / hanging between two hands before it’s tossed?” The answer, inexplicably, is we do.


Nine phones a

(Insert quarter Lian McIntyre Think for a moment — when was the last time you saw a payphone? When was the last time you used a payphone? There was a significant period in history where the payphone was a ubiquitous part of life; the only way to get in touch with a loved one while out and about. Yet in the last twenty years, with the rise of the mobile cellular telephone, payphones became

obsolete. I remember ten or so years ago encountering people at work inquiring about the closest pay phone. Even then, when


payphones were still more common, it was difficult to direct them with any certainty. Usually, it was to a nearby gas station accompanied by a wish of luck. These days, encountering a pay phone feels like a jarring anachronism. If you’re capable of carrying a phone around in your pocket — and most everyone is — what reason is there for these remnants of a time past? On February 26, 2015, I stopped for gas at the Petro Canada at Blueridge Drive and MacLure Road in Abbotsford, and when I exited the car I was surprised to see a payphone across from the pump. I pulled out my cell phone and snapped a picture, posting it to Instagram with the tongue-incheek caption. This payphone has since been removed. This first picture inspired me to continue documenting my encounters with this disappearing connection to the past. Because once gone, with no evidence it existed, who will remember? Who will care? Since I started taking these pictures three years ago, I have encountered a strikingly low number of payphones: fewer than ten in total — the last reminders of how we used to connect.

May 7

A payp Way W This p located the co depart

and counting

r for more time) April 13, 2016

7, 2016

A lone payphone located at the Abbotsford Provincial court house.

phone at the Vedder Walmart in Abbotsford. particular phone was d out of sight around orner in the shoe tment. (Removed)

June 17, 2018 A payphone outside the Lougheed Highway 7-11 in Mission, BC.


March 26, 2016 Two payphones in the parking lot of Dahlstrom Centre at Gladwin Road and George Ferguson Way.

February 26, 2015 Petro Canada at Blueridge Drive and MacLure Road, Abbotsford, BC (Removed)


April 9, 2017 Information booth, Coquitlam Centre, Coquitlam, BC

“There was a significant period in history where the payphone was ... the only way to get in touch with a loved one while out and about.� July 19, 2017 Two payphones in the dorms at Summit Pacific College, Abbotsford, BC


Cat Friesen is a writer and recent graduate of the University of the Fraser Valley. She enjoys writing poetry, fiction, and non-fiction on a wide range of topics. When she’s not writing, she can be found reading, taking photos of friends, playing Dungeons and Dragons, or getting lost in nature. 56

Point Roberts in February

The sun is unnaturally bright. It ricochets off churning waters, glitters and refracts like prisms hung in window panes. The ocean is immense, sublime; it unfolds and reaches for the faint outlines of islands in the distance. Jagged rocks jut from dark water: tiny islands smothered in barnacles and seaweed. The beach is littered with crab carcasses, shattered shells, clumps of dried seaweed, bits of broken glass. A rib bone protrudes between damp rocks. A row of cabins nestle at the base of the cliff, their oncebright paint peeling and faded from years of winter gales and salt spray. Their empty windows gaze out to sea, lifeless. There are no sounds of people, cars, animals—only the soft ripple of ocean waves creeping further up the sand. 57

Memory Film of Point Roberts Summer of ‘98 and the russet hatchback swings into the narrow, flower-lined driveway. Poppies lavender chrysanthemums intertwine to create a marbled, watercolor smudge. Further on, the indigo, wind-blown log cabin perched upon a bluff blends in to the sky beyond. A two-dimensional backdrop, a sharp drop to the ocean below: dangerous.

Small bodies shoot out of the car, across the field, down the stairs and then, fifty feet away, the frigid pacific waves collide with hard-packed sand, strewn with scattered shells and driftwood and opalescent pebbles. Plum-hued starfish lounge in sun-warmed tide pools— to children, an enchanting aquatic carnival. (A snapshot, then, of a small girl, all blonde curls and freckles and missing teeth, salt-crusted skin glinting in the afternoon sun. She leaps from the weathered dock, limbs splayed like the starfish in the tide pools— an imperfect replica of the woman on the pinstripe blanket.


Unlike the starfish, she will leave here when the sun dips low on the horizon, painting the skyline coral crimson tangerine, as it sinks below the ocean once more. She will remember this first day as a dream, a film that plays on repeat in her mind.) The briny ocean air seeps into her pores and will stay in her skin always.


Mission Monastery After th

Startling damage to the trees; split in half, jagged edges extend to sla grey sky. A mass of fir tree fragments blanket the ground. It’s colder h than in the valley, maybe cold enough to snow, but the clouds don’t o choosing to stay a tight screen across the sky. At the edge, looking do a boat on the river pulls split cedars, moving sluggishly through icy w Monopoly houses dot the landscape below, criss-crossed with thin ro punctuated by languid cars. Beyond the river, patchwork farms of red green sprawl before connecting with mountains that reach for the sta sky. Further still, mountains coated in a thick layer of snow. Somewhe far away, a mournful train whistle echoes, cutting through the still air 60

he Ice Storm

ate here open, own, water. oads, d and atic ere r. 61

Uncanny valley: a conversation with Cat Friesen Dessa Bayrock 62

Something I really love about these poems was an anchoring sense of place. Reading them really feels like being picked up and dropped down in the areas you describe — and there’s also this beautiful sense of nostalgia about these places. I’m glad you got that sense from reading them! That’s exactly how I wanted them to come across. I’ve lived in the Valley, and in fact, in the same house, my entire life. Every place that I write about, all the details I put into them, are so personal to me and often my connection to the place began when I was very small. And I enjoy writing about places I have a strong connection to, or feel nostalgic for, because I think it lends to the finished product. My goal was for people to read it and feel like they’ve been there, feel like they have a connection to the place, even if they don’t.

Something I thought was interesting was almost a sense of uncanniness that comes across — that these are familiar places, and yet unfamiliar, like the way that “Mission Monastery” describes the ways a storm has wrecked a familiar place, and how “Point Roberts” begins with an unnaturally bright sun, and “Memory Film” overlays the present with an almost jarring sense of the past. Thank you! I’m actually really flattered that you used the word uncanny to describe them, because I take a lot of inspiration from Angela Carter — her writing is what I’d call uncanny, a lot of the time. I want my writing to be grounded in reality, but have a sort of untethered, dreamlike quality as well. That, and Gothic elements, which would definitely go with the dreamlike/uncanny theme.

There’s something so interesting to me about interpreting the Valley in a Gothic way. Agreed! But then I like to think of anything in a Gothic way. I took Gothic literature a few years ago and I’ve been hooked ever since. I actually took a directed studies course that focused entirely on Angela Carter — I’m a little in love with her writing. She has an entire collection of fairy tales that she’s put her own twist on. They’re enthralling.

What was it about her work that drew you to it? Was it immediate? Yes, definitely. The first story I read of hers was “The Erl-King.” There was something so dreamlike and unsettling about the story. I actually think it was a combination of the story itself and where/when I read it, too — I was sitting in a coffee shop reading it and there was a wind storm going on outside. It was rattling the windows and leaves were blowing everywhere. The story itself takes place in a forest in autumn/winter, so I really felt like I was there.


I think that uncanny, dreamlike sense is totally at home in the valley. It sort of fits into something I wanted to ask you about the two pieces about Point Roberts — that they concern the same place, but also treat it in completely different ways. What is it about Point Roberts that drew you back to it to write more than one poem? And do you think these poems speak to each other? Well, I’ve been going to Point Roberts with my family since before I can remember. It’s always been a special place for me — somewhere to escape from the outside world. When I was a kid, it felt like an entirely different planet. I do think these poems speak to each other in a subtle way, and it’s funny because I didn’t really realize until recently that they’re my first and most recent memory of Point Roberts. The first one is carefree: it’s summer and I’m there with my family, and everything is perfect. In the second one, I’m there with a friend I really like and things aren’t really working out, and it’s shattering the fairytale quality of the place for me — things are breaking and dying and I don’t know how to fix it. It’s a beginning and ending, very far apart.


I also wanted to ask you about the form of these poems — two prose and one with the more “traditional” line breaks. Was that a conscious choice of form? For “Mission Monastery,” yes. I wanted everything to sort of melt together, to be a continuous narrative. When I had the idea for it, I was actually ***there, walking through Mission Monastery, and noting everything down all at once. “Point Roberts in February” is sort of the same, too. Everything was happening at once. Funnily enough, “Memory Film of Point Roberts” was only in a form because it was the first poem I ever wrote in a creative writing class and I assumed it had to “look like a poem.” But I’ve played around with it since, and I still feel like the form works well for it. The sequence of events is a little more broken up. It’s not an “everything at once” sort of thing — it’s more like a series of events spread out over a day.

I’m super intrigued by how you link format to a sense of time — that the prose is all at once, and the stanzas signify shifts or breaks in time. I’m so interested in time, too. How it passes, what can happen in a moment or a day or a year. It’s fascinating, and I guess it ends up in my poems more than I realized.

That links back to what you were saying earlier about working a sense of the Gothic into your poems. There’s something quintessentially Gothic about the past imposing itself on the present. Definitely! It’s such an intricate dance between past and present in the Gothic. Past events can have such an impact on what’s happening in the here and now. It’s a little uncanny, hey?



Kendra Schellenberg

Kendra Schellenberg is a multi-disciplinary artist working in the Fraser Valley. She graduated from the University of the Fraser Valley with her BFA in 2016. Since then she has shown her work at the Beaumont Studios in Vancouver, the Reach Gallery Museum in Abbotsford, the Ranger Station Gallery in Harrison Hot Springs, the Deer Lake Art Gallery in Burnaby, and completed a residency at Artscape Gibraltar Point in Toronto. Her work spans multiple mediums to explore themes of identity and body in today’s media-driven culture. Her portfolio can be viewed at kendraschellenberg.com.


My artistic practice addresses the broad themes of body and identity — more specifically their relation to femininity and womanhood. I draw inspiration from a wide variety of texts, feminist writings, social theories of gender, as well as my own personal lived experiences existing in a heteropatriarchy. My work is an attempt to identify and interrogate the insidious ways that the degrading of the feminine encroaches upon and shapes identity. The FlowerEyes first emerged while I was brainstorming for a project during my degree. I was thinking about how my life has been impacted by the fact that I am female. More specifically, my experiences and relationship with the feminine, and the concept of the male gaze. The flower as a symbol of femininity kept re-surfacing and I began to work with it in conjunction with the eye to represent the gaze. The idea being that the state of being a woman is forever tied to this notion of ‘appearance’.



“Men look at women. Women watch themselves being looked at.” —John Berger, Ways of Seeing 70



The male gaze is insidious: it permeates all forms of media, to the point that women’s gaze has been usurped and we have practically forgotten how to look at ourselves as anything but a sexual object.


“To be feminine, in one commonly felt definition, is to be attractive, or to do one’s best to be attractive; to attract.” — Susan Sontag, “On Photography"


And so I use the motif of the FlowerEye as a reminder of sorts, I suppose. So that I never forget that the feminine is associated with a certain degree of surveillance — and as a reminder to take a step back from the default male gaze to reclaim my own way of seeing.


Thanks to our sponsors for raising up valley culture.

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Shannon Thiesen Mission Clayworks Devon Burbank


photos by Deron Tompke 78


Our contributors Aymee Leake studied visual arts at UFV, and is a staunch arts advocate in Abbotsford. She has been an enthusiastic administrator and coordinator in a variety of organizations, including the Abbotsford Arts Council and a number of galleries. In 2016, she was nominated for the Christine Caldwell Outstanding Arts Advocate award. She’s quirky, passionate, and patently hilarious. These days, you can find Aymee painting eyes and firing up the kiln at the Clay Cottage. Cat Friesen is a writer and recent graduate of the University of the Fraser Valley. She enjoys writing poetry, fiction, and non-fiction on a wide range of topics. When she’s not writing, she can be found reading, taking photos of friends, playing Dungeons and Dragons, or getting lost in nature. Dessa Bayrock is a Fraser Valley ex-pat who lives in Ottawa with two cats and a variety of succulents, one of which is growing at a frankly alarming rate. She used to unfold paper for a living at Library and Archives Canada and is currently a PhD student in English, studying literary awards and the production of cultural value. She really likes books and has a tattoo of Mount Cheam on her arm. You can find her, or at least more about her, at dessabayrock.com, or on Twitter at @yodessa.

Jennifer Hickey lives in the heart of Chilliwack, BC, where she coordinates community events. She has worked for the Chilliwack Arts Council and the Abbotsford Arts Council, and studied Visual Arts and Graphic Design at UFV, in addition to Hospitality and Event Planning Management. You can find her sampling delicious Fraser Valley food and beverages, exploring local art galleries, and observing zany occurrences throughout the Lower Mainland. Jess Wind teaches communications at the University of the Fraser Valley and is an editor at Raspberry. She has an M.A. from Carleton University, a B.A. from UFV, and enough zombie research to survive the apocalypse. She’s a pop-culture nerd, a retro-loving geek, and a writer of many things. She also shares a birthday with Harry Potter. Katie Stobbart is the founding editor of Raspberry and the heart and soul behind Red Press Society. By day she organizes many things as Executive Assistant at Abbotsford Community Services, by night she organizes many things as DM to a bumbling party of adventurers in D&D. You can find her writing, painting, or tending to her apartment jungle.

Raspberry is a magazine devoted to Fraser Valley culture and community life. Established in June 2016, Raspberry publishes reviews, event coverage, and other local content online as we work toward our goal of publishing in print. You can follow us on social media for updates on our progress, information and insights on the Fraser Valley arts and culture scene, and more.

f RaspberryZine

t @RaspberryZine www.raspberrymag.ca


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Kendra Schellenberg is a multi-disciplinary artist working in the Fraser Valley. She graduated from the University of the Fraser Valley with her BFA in 2016. Since then she has shown her work at the Beaumont Studios in Vancouver, the Reach Gallery Museum in Abbotsford, the Ranger Station Gallery in Harrison Hot Springs, the Deer Lake Art Gallery in Burnaby, and completed a residency at Artscape Gibraltar Point in Toronto. Her work spans multiple mediums to explore themes of identity and body in today’s media-driven culture. Her portfolio can be viewed at kendraschellenberg.com. Lian McIntyre is a graduate of UFV with a Bachelor of Arts in English which ultimately led to her current job as a legal administrative assistant. New to the world of non-profits, Lian is passionate about cultivating social engagement in the community and about giving artists, writers and other creators a platform for their work. Lian is a voracious consumer of all things media and a selfproclaimed armchair critic. Sarah Sovereign loves storytelling, cofee, colour, and the first day of summer. She is married to a pretty wonderful guy named Jamie. They live in an apartment in Chilliwack covered in knick-knacks, with their cats, Jax and Beans. Sarah’s background is in film, visual arts, and English at UFV, and she is currently getting her Masters in Counselling. Her passion is working with others in visual storytelling, creating safe spaces in which to

hold and photograph the stories we carry with us. One day she plans to mix this with her counselling practice. Ron Sweeney is a writer and teacher living in Abbotsford. He teaches a comics course at the University of the Fraser Valley and is always ready to talk about the best and worst superheroes in existence. He has three daughters and needs more coffee. You can usually find him on Twitter @wronsweeney. He insists the W is silent. The Community has lived in the Fraser Valley all along, and comes out to local events when they know what’s happening. They’re a bit of a hipster but have many other aspects to their personality, if you’ll take the time to get to know them. They’re often shy about contributing to art projects, but can’t shake the urge to create. The Community previously submitted a set of collaborative paintings to Raspberry, and is trying their hand at collaborative fiction. Valerie Franklin is an artist, designer, animal rights activist, editor, and writer living in Abbotsford with two sweet cats and her beloved Jeff. When someone asks, “Hey, Valerie, can you draw this?” the answer is absolutely yes. And it will be fantastic. She has a BA in English Honours with a focus on rhetoric, certificates in TESL and journalism, and is an MA candidate in Communication at SFU. A fierce protector of all living things, Val’s superhero name is the Valkyrie.