Kaleidoscope Nº—3

Page 1


KALEIDOSCOPE www.rukaleidoscope.com rukaleidoscope@gmail.com @rukaleidoscope All stories, words, photos, videos, books, poems and other remaining content are copyright of their respective creators as indicated herein, and are reproduced here with permission. Copyright information can be found on the same page as and next to each submission featured in the anthology. Printed in Toronto, ON by Flash Reproductions

from the team. When looking at diversity in the creative sector, it’s easy to find a plethora of mediums and outlets through which creators display their passions. At Kaleidoscope, we have always aimed to put a spotlight on the unique, collaborative and distinct pieces created by students in the Faculty of Communication and Design (FCAD) at Ryerson University. In this anthology, you will find creations that have crossed borders of creativity and see the final results of dedicated passions. Each and every page speaks volumes for the efforts put forward by those who have helped this issue come to life—whether it be our own team members, or the brilliant students who have submitted their projects to us. For almost three years now, Kaleidoscope’s mandate has been to bring together the nine talented schools in FCAD in order to promote unity and create an outlet for creative expression. Kaleidoscope N°— 3 follows its predecessors in an endeavour to encourage and nurture diversity and cross-collaboration within the faculty. Additionally, as the publication grows each year, our goals do as well. In this respect, our third issue comes alongside new expansions in our website, merchandise and overall presence, both online and in stores. We cannot thank the FCAD community enough for their ongoing support and contributions towards the growth of our publication. However, we hope that we can continue to help this community grow and reach new audiences with each new issue and ensuing launch party. Please enjoy our third volume made in the 2018/2019 school year by our wonderful team. It’s been a pleasure, see you next year! Sincerely, Sukaina, Caleigh, Zoé, Sasha, Kriti and Emma The Leads, Kaleidoscope N°— 3

Artwork Scott Benesiinaabandan, newlandia: debaabaminaagwad (2018), Ryerson Image Centre


Canada’s top schools in media, design and creative industries. Today’s visionaries inspiring the leaders of tomorrow. Offering undergraduate and graduate programs.

Faculty of Communication & Design

Be inspired: ryerson.ca/fcad

from the dean. Congratulations on another wonderful issue of Kaleidoscope and to all the students showcasing their work in this magazine. This issue shows a culmination of work from students across our 9 leading schools which are recognized nationally and internationally for having the talent for the creative era. As always, I am thrilled to see, read and learn about the wonderful projects and ideas coming from the future leaders of the creative industries. This student-produced publication is a true representation of the collaborative and interdisciplinary nature that makes FCAD unique. It is within these pages that you can see the creative leadership and excellence we are fostering and sending out into the cultural sector upon graduation. I wish to extend my congratulations to the team behind Kaleidoscope. Without your endless hours invested and dedication none of this would be possible. It has been a pleasure working with you and am glad to present the FCAD Best of Kaleidoscope Award to another one of our wonderful students. Sincerely, Charles Falzon Dean Faculty of Communication and Design


1 4 6 10 13 16 20 24 28 29 32 36 40 41 45



50 54 58 59 61 64 66 70 74 77



80 84 88 90 94 96 100 104

105 108 110 114 117


117 118 122 126 130 134 136




Heather Rattray

In The Middle Place, photographer Heather Rattray explores the experience of her childhood struggle with ADHD and being on medication for over 11 years—depicting her journey of accepting this aspect of her life. “The Middle Place can resonate with anyone who has ever felt distant from a certain part of themselves,” she said. Originally created as part of her fourthyear thesis project, Rattray uses these photos to tell the story of coming to terms with her circumstances. She credits being a part of the Faculty of Communication and Design and the photography program for “invaluable life skills in the visual language.” “Photography allows me … to make sense and work through personal issues in a tangible and visual way,” said Rattray.





Heather Rattray Fourth-year photography The Middle Place Inkjet Print 2018







More Than Meets The Eye is a silk screen t-shirt project Mia Yaguchi-Chow created for Bitchfits Pop-up 3, a solo pop-up shop that she held in her garage. Through this project, Yaguchi-Chow hoped to examine the beauty which comes with the idea that “everything we could possibly see or experience in our lives, we may never actually get the chance to.” This concept extends to both her interest in intersecting identities as well as her belief that clothing can be both a conscious and unconscious form of self-expression. Yaguchi-Chow credits the diversity at Ryerson and the Faculty of Communication and Design with helping shape her multifaceted perspective, “ … allowing oneself to see through more than one lens.” A self-proclaimed advocate for fun, Yaguchi-Chow hopes this project will encourage creatives to have fun with their own projects.

Mia Yaguchi-Chow Second-year fashion communication More Than Meets The Eye Fashion and Photography 2018








HARRY CLARKE Walking by a large, leafy plant in the tropical greenhouse at Allan Gardens, Harry Clarke stopped to savour its waxy texture in his hands before taking a photo of the foliage with his DSLR camera.

transferred to journalism after his first year of university with the intention of becoming a fashion journalist. Now, he says his focus has shifted more to storytelling in general.

Against the lush greens of the garden, Clarke instantly stood out. His outfit was accented with bold reds, contrasting textures and a pair of black headphones that hung around his neck.

“I found that I needed to tell stories,” he explained. “If not other people’s stories, then at least my own. Journalism is the vehicle now for which I can do that.”

He was there collecting field material to use in his latest project, a collage music video for a song by his friend and musician, Shanika Maria, called Mouth Eaters. Describing the song as a “toy box of sounds,” Clarke explained this music video held particular significance as it allowed him to fuse his passion for collage with his passion for styling to create a collaborative, full body experience. “The music video allows us to tell a story and that’s great,” he said. “I feel like stories aren’t just a) words or b) lyrics. I’d love to tell a story that works on more than just one sense and more than just one extension of us.” Since arriving at Ryerson, Clarke’s artistic practice has grown to encompass collage, journalism, writing and styling. Originally an English major, Clarke


Over the winter of 2017, Clarke discovered collaging after being inspired by his roommate who would edit his skateboarding videos side by side into a video collage and set them to music. “I really care a lot about the mix of music, film, imagery, aesthetic, colour theory … all those things. So I realized collage was a great way to synergize [them].” Clarke described his approach to collage as primarily digital. His work incorporates original photos with those drawn from the internet’s infinite resources to create something that is entirely his own. The digital aspect allows him to create work that he feels is less bound by physical and material constraints. “[The internet] is this big cork board, and all these pictures are posted to it,” he said. “I’m taking a corner of this and a tear of that and making one big papier-mâché sculpture through collage. It’s limitless, I get to express myself in ways I


“I really care a lot about the mix of music, film, imagery, aesthetic, colour theory … all those things. So I realized collage was a great way to synergize [them].” can’t access in the physical world.” Inspired by contrasting images such as the nostalgia of old west Americana, the disco and queer ball scenes, Clarke is fascinated by the prospect of images which initially appear to possess no connection until they are brought together in collage. “Through collage I can connect all these bits and pieces—the passion that comes from being a masculine cowboy and the extreme fun that comes with the vibrancy of disco and the gay scene.” Clarke’s interest in exploring intersections is reflected in his journalistic work as well. As a regular contributor to StyleCircle, Ryerson’s student-run fashion, beauty and lifestyle publication, Clarke’s writing explores the intersections of race, gender and sex that are currently at play in the fashion industry. “I’m writing a piece for our zine about how fashion has helped me express my femininity as a black man,” he said. “In our community there’s not so much space for that, but now fashion is starting to showcase these voices of gay black men and women.”

between collaging and journalism in his work. He says being in the Faculty of Communication and Design (FCAD) at Ryerson has given him space and freedom to explore these intersections while developing as an artist.

“We’re making a place for ourselves now apart from just a monolithic identity.”

“FCAD has allowed me to be in a space where I know I’m working on creative things with other creative people that respect and understand the things I’m doing, which is really comforting when you’re doing things that you’re not entirely positive are going to work,” he said.

The need for representation and a diversity of voices is something that inspires Clarke to further explore the relationship

Clarke credits his upbringing as playing a significant role in shaping the way he sees the world. Growing up, his parents



were very art-inclined and enrolled him in a myriad of artistic activities including choir, French horn, figure skating and many forms of dance. This dance influence is especially evident as he works on putting together a scene for Mouth Eaters. His fingers fly nimbly across the screen and he counts the beats aloud as he layers, crops and perfects the sequence. “I think about the strict choreography of dance, each count is a body movement,” he said as he layered a photo of a Modigliani painting against a photograph of flowers taken at the greenhouse. When he’s not collaborating on projects with other artists, Clarke runs a blog called The Fashion Cowboy—a title fitted to his love of American old west aesthetics. There, he posts poetry, stylings and general observations of his surroundings in addition to collage work. “I think it’s better as a diary because it fits into this ‘collaged’ way I feel about myself. The art I want to show people, I feel like I can’t present it in some formulaic way so it’s like, just comb through my diary then.” Clarke hopes to create work which maps sensorial associations and collapses the hierarchy between the logical and the emotional, while advocating for representation and diversity of voices. He believes studying journalism has taught him to look for the story in everything.


“It forces me to connect and create a narrative out of anything because there’s a narrative in everything,” said Clarke. “Journalism makes your eyes wider and that’s all I’ve ever wanted—to see everything.”


SAFETY NETS Jemma Dooreleyers

We’re four years old Eyes as bright as the sun Not knowing much But this is supposed to be fun We start off our journey With Velcro shoes on our feet We let go of mom’s hand And skip our way to our seat Our first day goes by, in a colourful blur Snack time is the favourite Apart from that, not much is sure There was just one thing that stuck in our minds The teacher had said it When we were pushing in line Slow down, settle down We don’t have to push We all have a place There is no need to rush We carried that with us Day in and day out Until we were eight And learned what life was about That was the day We heard of careers A police man came in And we asked of his fears You may think that he Would be scared he’d be shot But all that we gathered was that He worried what other people thought The badge that he wore Was his greatest pride He took it out to shine it Quite a few times



After his visit The teacher sat us down He looked at us for a moment And he said with a frown That man just there Has just lied to your face The status that you have Does not determine your place The most important thing That you must know Is that you love where you are And that it definitely shows That message was something That we thought of often But then we turned 15 And it was long forgotten

0 0 0

That was the day We were picking our courses We were scared of our 40’s Being full of remorses

0 0

We looked to our teacher With stress in our eyes She said with a chuckle What is wrong with you guys?



0 0

0 0


Now graduating class Listen to me close Because these are the words That you’ll need the most

We all spattered and sputtered Like 15-year-olds do You mean to say That you have no clue?

When you’re so damn scared That you can barely move Just look to this poem Because it is here for you

Follow your heart, We’re told our whole lives But we also know that We need to work to survive

For when skies are grey And it’s as bad as it gets Fall into these words They’re your safety nets

She just shook her head And chuckled again She locked eyes with each one of us And said with a grin

Slow down, settle down There is no need to push We all have a place There is no need to rush

The world is much bigger Than you can imagine Things are always complicated But they will always happen

The most important thing That you must know Is that you love where you are And that it definitely shows



The world is much bigger Than you can imagine Things are always complicated But they will always happen So here we are Quicker than we thought Time will fly Whether we’re having fun Or not

0 0 0


0 0

- Safety Nets, J.D

0 0 0 0

We start off our journey With trembling hands We take a deep breath *sigh* And hope all goes as planned



We’re 18 years old Dreams as vast as the sky Not knowing much But there is a nest to fly

In the time since Jemma Dooreleyers wrote Safety Nets to perform as class poet at her high school graduation, the Faculty of Communication and Design has made her “into a news writing machine with no style,” but she said she’s not mad about it. A poem of advice to high school students about their future, Safety Nets represents Dooreleyers’ youth and a passion for writing that she has since grown out of—much like the theme of the poem suggests.

Jemma Dooreleyers Second-year journalism Safety Nets Poetry 2017

“Now my writing is short, to the point and almost sarcastic, much like my view on life,” said Dooreleyers.




Shira Yavor Fourth-year fashion design Living as One Cotton cords, netting, soil, plants, PLA plastic 2018



Living as One is a project that Shira Yavor created for her fourth-year capstone project. It explores how humans interact with nature and technology by shaping organic materials into man-made artifacts, while material items are made to imitate natural forms. The process began with sewing the asparagus fern into the netted material, followed by filling the opening with soil. As a result, Yavor described how she ended up “literally planting the asparagus fern into soil within the face mask.” Yavor said she had never imagined using real plants in her fashion projects last year, despite her interest in working with unusual materials. However, she found that the capstone course encouraged her to expand her creative process, which led to the originality of this design. Additionally, Yavor described the Faculty of Communication and Design (FCAD) at Ryerson as having a direct impact on her project, shaping the way she planned her design and providing her with the resources to bring it to life. The 3D portion of Living as One was printed at FCAD’s Fabrication Lab, while the photos of models Emma Rudolph and Alyksandra Ackerman were captured on campus. She hopes Living as One will allow viewers to reflect upon the influence of technology along with the role of nature in their lives.






Chara Ho, Carol Liu, Alexandru Titu, Karmen Man

Inspired by spiritual steward Steven Martyn and his sustainable harvesting, Chara Ho, Carol Liu, Alexandru Titu and Karmen Man created The Sacred Gardener. This 10-minute documentary tells the story of Martyn’s emergence from social recluse to share his philosophy about mankind’s connection to the earth. “This is the most important thing, that people have these intimate, intimate moments and experiences with the earth,” Martyn explained in the film. The Sacred Gardener was created for RTA 957, a documentary production course. Ho said their participation in the collaborative and comprehensive course is what made a production of this calibre possible. She believes the support and feedback her team received from staff and peers within the Faculty of Communication and Design was fundamental to the growth of their documentary. “The Sacred Gardener is a story of reconciliation between mankind, and the land that it has flourished from but destroyed,” Ho said. The team hopes the documentary will help their audience rediscover a sense of connection to both the earth and the spiritual realm, in a process that is immensely healing.







Chara Ho, Carol Liu, Alexandru Titu and Karmen Man Third-year media production The Sacred Gardener Film 2018








ALESSIA URBANI Alessia Urbani was almost a fashion design major at Ryerson. Fashion made sense for Urbani: out of all the art classes her mom put her in as a child, sewing had resonated with her the most. She’d stuck with it since she was seven years old and by tenth grade she was set on applying to Ryerson’s School of Fashion. She worked endlessly on her portfolio in senior year, went to sewing school four times a week and even designed her own prom dress. Eventually, she received an admission offer to the highly competitive program. But when it came time to choose her major, something about accepting fashion “just didn’t feel right,” she said. Instead, Urbani accepted her offer to Ryerson’s performance production program—the component of the School of Performance in charge of the behind-thescenes aspects of spectacle. This includes lighting, sound, management and sets. Although she’s still not 100 per cent certain what made her change her mind, she suspects that she may have been influenced by her newfound love for theatre—a passion she hadn’t discovered until high school, when she joined the drama program to make friends in freshman year.


“I loved the community that [theatre] brought,” she said. “I feel like it was something that I didn’t want to let go.’ Fast forward a few years: Urbani sits in a drafting lab in Eric Palin Hall, one of the many spaces for students in the School of Performance that are scattered around campus (you can also find them at the Ryerson Theatre, the Atrium building and the new School of Performance off of Yonge Street). In front of her was a model of the Ryerson Theatre stage, meticulously constructed to scale as part of an assignment from the previous year. By the end of the day, the miniature stage would house a scaled-down set for the absurdist play, Ubu Roi—Urbani’s final assignment for her set design class. She worked on molding a small clay hand no bigger than the palm of her own, which might serve as a sort of jail or an antagonist; she wasn’t sure yet. Occasionally, she referred to the moodboard she’d made for inspiration. Class didn’t actually start for a few hours, but as a performance student Urbani is no stranger to long days, sometimes staying on campus from 9 a.m. to 11 p.m. in the height of show season. While she removed and reattached the fingers of her model hand, Urbani cheerfully greeted the other early birds who began to arrive in the lab. In a cohort of around 40 people, everyone is on friendly terms.


While she and her friends will ultimately graduate with the same degree, Urbani said they’re experiencing vastly different educations. “The one really cool thing about this program is you can sort of make it what you want,” she said. Unsurprisingly, Urbani has focused her studies on costume design. Although the fashion design program provides a stronger focus on sewing and constructing garments, she values the collaborative experience she has found in performance production. The School of Performance essentially functions as its own theatre company entirely run by students, Urbani explained. They put on five or six shows a year, aligning the three subdivisions of the the school: the actors perform plays, the dancers perform in showcases and the shows are managed and mounted on stage by the production students—all of whom have a specific role tailored to what they want to do in the industry, known as a call. Through her calls, Urbani has not only gained experience in working with professionals, but she’s also learned the fundamental differences between creating a garment for the runway and for the stage. When it comes to costume design, there are unique parameters that need to be taken into account; variables that Urbani refers to as “puzzle pieces.” The garment has to fulfill the artistic vision of the director, work within the set itself, connect with the audience and most importantly, be comfortable for the performer. “It’s interesting to see how a similar practice changes so much when these people are moving on stage,” she said. “It’s so different when [performers] are wearing these costumes every night for a full show run, and doing crazy movements and sweating.”

Perhaps her most challenging call yet was her role as costume designer for The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood, the theatrical adaptation of Atwood’s novel which retells The Odyssey from the perspective of Odysseus’ wife, Penelope. There were 10 actresses in the ensemble, each of them playing two or three characters. The changes in character would be communicated by a change in costume. The catch, however, was that the actresses never left the stage, so they needed to be able to subtly switch costumes in a matter of seconds.



Her shawl also doubled as a powerful sash (which Urbani herself was able to repurpose for a night out at the ballet). “It was definitely a challenge but it was also a great experience,” Urbani said. “I feel like with the amount that I learned on that show, that’s why I’m most proud of it.” As for her next steps, Urbani is thinking about going to graduate school for costume design. After that, she simply hopes to be able to make a living off of doing what she loves. She said she’d be happy to try making costumes for film, having always been interested in how movies from Anna Karenina to (500) Days of Summer use costumes “as a strong means of communication.” She said she can still see herself working in the fashion industry, perhaps. In her free time, as scarce as it is, she does commissioned work: an alteration here, some custom daywear there and even another prom dress.

The solution? Magnets. Urbani and her co-costume designer, Andrew Nasturzio, were able to accomodate the director’s vision by creating base costumes with components that could be removed and manipulated, allowing the performers to quickly switch between characters. One maid’s skirt had magnets in the hem, which could attach to her shoulders to become a cape. Another maid’s top would unhook to reveal a pink lining and matching bandeau, transforming her into Helen of Troy. Becoming Odysseus was as simple as putting magnets along the back of the performer’s costume that would allow her to pull back her skirt and reveal pants.


Urbani’s next few years are up in the air. Nonetheless, one thing is for certain: performance production was the right program for her. “I took a chance,” she said. “I kind of had the intention that I might switch out of [the program] but I wanted to see what this was like. I ended up loving it and three years later, I’m still here.” “This is where I want to be and this is what I want to do.”



Soka Luft-Rodriguez



Soka Luft-Rodriguez created Westbury as a documentary installation project for her fourth-year thesis. The documentary is based on 11 residents at Chartwell Westbury Long Term Care Residence in Etobicoke—a building that, according to Luft-Rodriguez, has a generic design with muted tones, causing it to fade into the background of its neighbourhood. “There are many reasons why the design of long-term care homes have not changed, but much has to do with the lack of funding in the sector,” she said. Another reason, she believes, is society’s discomfort with age and disability. Luft-Rodriguez chose to show environmental portraits of the residents’ individual spaces while completing her project, to portray how they control their representation and “break free from the generic design they are placed in.” After scanning residents with a sensor on an iPad, 3D-printed dolls were placed


inside. The portraits of each resident’s unique room contrast the blank features of the dollhouse and mimic how Westbury residences are making the space their own, she said. The photography student expressed that the facilities provided by the Faculty of Communication and Design (FCAD) allow students to think creatively and not feel limited to specializing in one medium. “As an artist, I love learning new mediums,” she said. “FCAD has allowed me to not just be an image-maker, but a multidisciplinary artist, as I incorporated three different mediums in the project Westbury.”







Soka Luft-Rodriguez Fourth-year photography Westbury Photography, 3D printing, wood work 2018



In this series of designs used to make silk screen posters, Max Caspi-Roy created the pieces By Any Means Necessary, Hello and Try Harder. This was an independent project with inspiration found in many places—By Any Means Necessary, for example, is from a quote by Malcolm X, who Caspi-Roy credits as one of his heroes. Additionally, Try Harder is his own personal mantra. Caspi-Roy believes the graphic communications program plays a huge role in the work he produces. “From a technical perspective, the process of designing something from scratch to having a tangible object is the fundamental concept of my program.”

Max Caspi-Roy Second-year graphic communications management Try Harder, Hello, By Any Means Necessary Graphic Design 2018



LOVE and HER Mateus Butterwick created the series Love and Her by morphing and collaging photographs of natural surfaces into newly formed pieces. The final products are unconventional love letters made for both his significant other and for viewers, he said. Through this series, Butterwick intends to connect with the people in his life and to give back the love he has received. “My way of giving pieces of me, pieces of my world,” he said. Butterwick credits his experiences in the Faculty of Communication and Design for pushing him towards pursuing selfless art. “I think Love and Her is simple,” he explained. “I hope it feels human, it feels personal and connected.”





Mateus Butterwick Second-year photography Love and Her Photography 2018



STREAKS of SUN On a sunny December morning, as an orangey-yellow light fell through the windows of her home, Neha Chollangi ran for her camera to preserve the sight. “It’s not too bad when the sun’s out, but it only comes out when it feels like coming out.” This quote from the classic novel The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger often floats around in Chollangi’s head, especially in the winter months when sunny days are a rarity. “These photos are a way of trying to capture that temporary and delicate vision of golden corners during winter when the sunlight feels like coming out,” she said. “Those moments feel magical.” Chollangi has had an affinity for photography for a long time. However,

this past year is when she began to fall in love with the hours she would spend wandering, looking for special moments to capture. Taking a photojournalism class in her third year of university allowed her to fine-tune her skills and gain confidence. Being in the Faculty of Communication and Design (FCAD) at Ryerson has provided Chollangi with different creative outlets—from her peers to the diverse courses the faculty offers. “I think FCAD does a great job to make different creative outlets feel more reachable,” she said. “It’s wonderful to feel the freedom to experiment with anything.”. Chollangi hopes Streaks of Sun resonates with those who feel woken up and inspired by sunshine in winter.



Neha Chollangi Third-year journalism Streaks of Sun Photography 2018












CHRIS CHAI-TANG For the everyday person, Toronto’s cityscape can be overwhelming.

ticulously blocks out every glass panel of the building.

The sky is interrupted by towering grey high-rises and glass windows, and the people are small by comparison. The odd exception is an unnaturally wellgroomed green space, or a crumbling artifact of the past.

This practice of breaking down structures into their basic forms then reassembling them has let Chai-Tang develop his own style of isometric design (a method of drawing 3D objects in a way that they don’t get smaller with distance). What makes his work stand out, however, is the vibrant colours he uses to illustrate the buildings, experimenting with bold contrasts and palettes that are aesthetically pleasing rather than realistic.

Chris Chai-Tang sees it differently. For the third-year graphic communications management (GCM) student, this city is just an elaborate landscape of well-organized shapes. On his hour-long commute to Ryerson, Chai-Tang makes mental notes of buildings he finds interesting for future projects. And with Toronto’s ever-changing and expanding landscape, he never runs out of ideas. “My dad likes taking pictures, and one thing he said helps him is that he always imagines everything in that kind of frame: what would this look like as a picture? What part of it would be interesting?” Chai-Tang said. “That’s how I go about designing stuff.” In the spare hours between his classes, Chai-Tang easily finds a quiet spot in the sparsely occupied Heidelberg Centre at Ryerson. He takes out his laptop, opens Adobe Illustrator and gets to work on an illustration of the Ted Rogers School of Management (TRSM) building. Going off of a single reference photo, he me-


Ironically enough, Chai-Tang wouldn’t describe himself as creative – he said he “can’t really draw” and he doesn’t regularly use a sketchbook. He initially applied to GCM because it would allow him to work in the field of graphic design without actually being a graphic designer, a role he didn’t think he was cut out for. “People say I’m creative but I don’t feel like I’m a creative person. I just do stuff sometimes,” he said. Nonetheless, he still experimented with graphic design as a hobby. Towards the end of high school, he began creating wallpapers based on video games he liked and posting them to Reddit. He taught himself Illustrator well before taking his first design and layout class at Ryerson. The formal instruction simply expanded his toolkit, allowing him to create even more.


“Sometimes I have designs from earlier that I’ve gone back and remastered. That’s one way I look at stuff: this is not that good, what would I do differently?”

Despite his natural skill, Chai-Tang didn’t believe his work was good until he heard it from others. Humble and soft-spoken, he’s not the frantic kind of Faculty of Communication and Design (FCAD) student that thrives off the thrill of the hustle. He considers his work to be “just for fun.” He ranks his past pieces on a scale of “garbage” to “pretty alright” and constantly looks for ways that they could have been done better. Scrolling through his Instagram, he points to designs he’s not particularly fond of and says what he would do differently, given the time. “I like looking back at stuff from the past and just tearing it apart,” he said, laughing. “Sometimes I have designs from earlier that I’ve gone back and remastered. That’s one way I look at stuff: this is not that good, what would I do differently?” “That’s how you get better, I suppose.” In his first year of university, before he knew many people, Chai-Tang spent

much of his free time on the eighth floor of the Student Learning Centre (SLC). He would sketch what he could see: the sharp corners, the mosaic-like design of the ceiling above him and the stretch of buildings that can be seen from the floorto-ceiling windows of the study space. He has never revisited any of these designs (on his scale, they’re ranked as “really bad”) but they helped him develop an architectural eye. Eventually, Chai-Tang branched out to create posters for the Letterpress club, a group run out of GCM that keeps the spirit of traditional printing alive by giving students hands-on experience. Now, he had the opportunity to put his hobby to work. His collaboration with the club resulted in a series of posters, which Chai-Tang calls his favourite project. The positive feedback he received from his peers gave him confidence in his abilities and a sense of reassurance that maybe what he was doing wasn’t half-bad.



with his own signature spin. His favourite part of the process is adding in colour, running through vibrant palettes and shades until something feels right. This takes him only 20 minutes, as opposed to the four to five hours he puts into construction. Chai-Tang followed the same pattern in creating designs of the Chrysler building, the Empire State Building and Toronto’s own CN Tower. The series is vibrant, intricate and interesting. For him, it was as simple as taking the concept of shapes and colours taught in kindergarten and putting it to work. Years of practice and developing his creative process have also given Chai-Tang the ability to create buildings without any reference photos. In a recent illustration of clean high rise buildings in orange and yellow hues, he simply worked off the idea of wanting to show a structure with balconies. Rather than pulling from his surroundings or looking to outside inspiration, buildings are starting to sprout from the foundation of his mind’s eye.

Chai-Tang now draws inspiration from more than the architecture in his immediate surroundings. He recently did a series featuring internationally recognized landmarks, including Big Ben. Going off of no more than a few reference photos (he’s never seen the London clock tower in person), he guessed what shapes would compose the structure as if it was as simple as assembling a cardboard box. Every detail, every arch, point and pillar in the 300-foot tower was simplified into two-dimensional shapes. After that, he reconstructed the monument into an isometric rendering – still recognizable but


For Chai-Tang, FCAD is an environment that allowed him to experiment, collaborate and explore his creative side. Now, he’s thinking about pursuing graphic design after he graduates—as a side project, to be fair, but more than a hobby. He said his end game would be designing the labels for a craft beer company, like Bellwoods Brewery or Collective Arts. “The theme for craft beer these days is hard shapes and bright colours, which is totally my style,“ he said. “It’d be so cool to see my stuff on a bottle.” For now, he’ll keep plotting the triangles of TRSM away until, after hours of work, they build a bigger picture.


AVENUE OF THE ISLANDS Victoria Porteous Avenue of the Islands is a series of photos captured on film by Victoria Porteous during a visit to the Toronto Islands. Her focus was to “turn a normal day into beautiful art,” capturing these memories during an excursion with a friend. Porteous said she has recently fallen in love with film photography for a similar reason. “I have found that the physical copy received after getting the film developed allows me to appreciate my art and share it more,” she said. According to Porteous, the graphic communications management program in Ryerson’s Faculty of Communication and Design has taught her how to create visually appealing projects that can be used in ordinary capacities. “The projects we create would be distributed to everyone, they are works of art that are not confined to an art gallery,” she said. “I feel this connects to a lot of my work as I like to create from everyday life.”

Victoria Porteous Third-year GCM Avenue of the Islands Film Photography 2018




Danielle Howson, Claire McCulloch After working on a small zine publication in early 2018, Danielle Howson and Claire McCulloch knew they wanted to make something similar of their own. The fourth and third-year students, respectively, worked to co-found Common Mag. “It was an opportunity to create a platform that spoke about issues we cared about, looked exactly how we wanted it to and was all about self-expression,” said Howson. Common Mag is an online magazine for women and non-binary people to enjoy and share their narratives. From their experience in editorial processes within student groups, Howson and McCulloch knew they were capable of creating their own team.


“They are all so talented—Common Mag would not be what it is without them,” said Howson. The team consists of over 25 people, with students from all across Faculty of Communication and Design programs such as creative industries, journalism and graphic communications management. “No topic is off limits, no person is unwelcome,” said Howson. “Ultimately, it is a celebration of women and non-binary people.” Topics covered in Common Mag relate to the ups and downs of life along with the goals, interests and opinions of the women and non-binary people contributing their narratives.


Not Like Other Girls “I’m not like other girls,” you say with a smirk on your face with pride.

Written by Lauren Stasyna Graphic by Emily Skublics for Common Mag

No that’s absolutely right, you aren’t like other girls—other girls don’t need to dismiss the entirety of girls to receive validation that ultimately stems from misogyny. Let’s break this down. We have heard this phrase time and time again—in movies, in books, on television, in classrooms, and quite possibly out of your own mouth. But what are we all really saying? Who are these “other girls”, and why don’t we want to be like them? For one thing, it most definitely



could be the constant flood of two-dimensional portrayals of women in mainstream Western media. There really is not much room for individuality with these superficial and shallow depictions. “I’m not like these girls”, you say to yourself, as you watch them fret about boys, their hair, and school dances. Interests that are not within the norms of feminine gender expression are coded as masculine, creating a binary of feminine and masculine. An example of this would be how fashion and makeup are coded as feminine and often frivolous, yet chess and soccer are coded as masculine and communicated to be somehow more important. With more examples, one can notice how traditional feminine traits are almost always inferior to traditional masculine traits. Additionally, any type of crossover of the feminine and masculine is almost always regarded as an outlier instead of the norm. What a lot of media fail to communicate to its young and impressionable viewers is that they are individuals in a world that constantly embraces gender binaries. Liking math or playing chess doesn’t make you any less of a girl, neither does not liking Starbucks or makeup—they all are just things people decided to code as feminine or masculine. It gives us an


identity crisis. When we are constantly told that “this is what a girl likes” and we don’t fit into that box, of course the phrase “I’m not like other girls” would be a way to make a sense of all this. However, instead of reverting to this phrase, let’s become free from these social constructs as a whole. Let’s remove these associations of gender from hobbies and characteristics and just enjoy things. You like makeup and race cars? Enjoy both of them! Sewing and science? Love it! What we mean to say is “I’m not like what the media tells us girls are supposed to be”... well, most girls rarely are. But when we say “I’m not like other girls” we reaffirm a sexist stereotype that all girls and women are so horrible and worthless that we must distance ourselves from them. That we are superior to them for not being that way. That is almost a perfect definition of misogyny. Girls are cool as hell. For too long we have let other people decide what we like, how we should dress, talk, eat, play, think, and more. We don’t have to compete with other girls or even distance ourselves from them because in the end, if only some of us are valued, none of us are. So next time you’re about to proudly say you’re “not like other girls”, ask yourself why.


Photo by Danika Moir

As women, in a time when the fight for respect, having our voices heard, and equality is finally reaching the level it should have been at all along, we cannot afford to sell ourselves short. - “Own. It.” by Sofiya Yusypovych for Common Mag



THROUGH IT ALL Lauren Bruyns

Lauren Bruyns was in her second year at Ryerson University when she created a single triptych—three images put beside each other to form one image—in her photo production class. Since then, Bruyns expanded her triptych into a series of diptychs (two images put together), captured throughout her years at Ryerson and while she was on exchange. Through It All shares intimate stories from different individuals’ pasts, inviting viewers to “rethink their approach to others and to find a sense of understanding and compassion when interacting with those around them,” Bruyns said. Bruyns’ love for portraiture stayed with her as she switched from the photography program to the integrated digital (ID) program. While the ID program gave Bruyns the opportunity to develop her skills in new technologies, her passion for “capturing individuals’ personalities in a still frame” led her to continue her collection of portraits for her fourth-year thesis, while adding a video component. Bruyns hopes that her diptychs connect the viewer to the subject as they capture the collective experiences of struggle and perseverance.







Lauren Bruyns Fourth-year integrated digital Through It All Photographic inkjet prints and film 2016



Sabrina Thomason First-year interior design A Cup of Joe Graphite and coffee 2018

Sofiya Yusypovych Fourth-year creative industries Foodie POV Digital Photography 2018








VICTORIA ANDERSON GARDNER In the summer before her fourth year of university, Victoria Anderson-Gardner found herself stranded in an airport in Neskantaga, Ont., with a documentary film crew she had only just met. In August 2018, Gardner was brought on as co-director of the final Canadian segment of the CBC documentary In Search of a Perfect World, based on the 70th anniversary of the Human Rights Declaration. The segment, titled Inviable, focused on Indigenous youth who are flown away from their communities to pursue a better education in another city, usually Thunder Bay, Ont., where Gardner herself is from. However, along with being a hotbed for racism towards Indigenous Peoples, Thunder Bay currently holds the position as Canada’s leading murder capital, thus making the transplant a violation of the youths’ human rights. Upon arriving in Neskantaga, Gardner and her crew realized the community was in crisis. In a turn of events sadly akin to the segment’s message, one of their youth had just passed away in Thunder Bay. “The first day was just a mess. We were all panicking and being like, should we even be here?” said Gardner. The community eventually came to the decision that the crew should stay and tell the family’s story. Even then, Gard-


ner found herself struggling to balance the urgency of their timeline with the morality of the situation, as well as her own feelings of being out of place. “It was a lot for me because I was the youngest person on the crew and also the only girl and also the only racialized person,” she said. Despite Gardner’s passion for the art form, she didn’t see herself pursuing film until it came time to apply to schools. “I was a big nerd and was really into math and chemistry so originally I was going to apply to like, be a doctor, which is what my family wanted me to do.” She recalled the instinctual response she had at 14 years old while watching Another Earth, the film which first propelled her towards the medium. Four years prior, her sister had passed away and Gardner was experiencing a difficult time with her family. “I tended to disassociate a lot and didn’t handle issues very well. [Another Earth] really changed my perspective on how I was going about life. It affected me emotionally and made me feel something I hadn’t felt in a long time,” she said. When Gardner entered Ryerson’s School of Image Arts, her goal was to create films that would evoke emotion in her viewers and help them heal, or offer perspective


Gardner describes This is Home as the film that started everything for her. It was in her second-year film production class where she met Gianfranc Pipitone, who became her friend, collaborator, and Director of Photography (DP) on her thesis film. It was also This is Home which lent her the opportunity to work as co-director alongside her second year professor on the CBC documentary In Search of A Perfect World. “My professor from that year, Manfred Becker, had kept that film and set it aside, then reached out to me in the summertime.”

in the way films like Another Earth had done for her.

Now, two years later, Gardner is flying back again to her hometown to film her thesis, The Hurt that Binds Us—a documentary centred around the impacts of intergenerational trauma spanning across three generations of her family.

“I’ve kind of discovered a voice for my own identity in terms of being Indigenous. I put a piece of myself into every little film I do about Indigenous issues because I’m exploring a topic that is personal to me but personal to a lot of other Indigenous people as well.”

“We’ll be talking to the first generation who were directly affected by the residential schools, which are my living grandparents. Then we’re going to talk to my parents and then to me and my siblings to see how it has affected all of us.”

Primarily a documentarian, Gardner became attracted to the genre after realizing she could reach her viewers more effectively when telling stories about real people.

This will be her grandparents’ first time sharing their experiences at residential schools with her family, a process Gardner believes will be incredibly emotional for everyone involved.

In her second year, Gardner filmed the first documentary that she was truly proud of. She flew home to Eagle Lake First Nation to film This is Home, a documentary exploring how her community had lost many of their traditional ways.

Gardner had known she wanted to make this documentary since her third year but it was during a meeting with Gianfranc when it seemed like the universe was giving her the go-ahead.

“I was comparing these barren landscapes of the community during wintertime with this old footage I found of powwows and all these ceremonies in the summertime to compare the barren aspect with how it used to be, and how I wish it still was.”

“[Gianfranc] was telling me how he went for a walk near the Scarborough Bluffs and found eight feathers on the beach just standing, so he took a picture of



them. Then he left and when he came back one of the feathers were gone and so he took a picture again,” Gardner explained. “I was like, that’s kind of wild. There were actually eight people in my family before my sister passed away and now there’s seven of us. Me and him had this epiphany moment and I asked him to be the DP on my doc. I think it’s a sign from the universe.” The Hurt that Binds Us will be premiering early May 2019 at the Ryerson University Film Festival. After graduation, Gardner hopes to continue working as a freelance filmmaker. In addition to the CBC documentary, Gardner had a hand in filming four other documentaries over summer 2018— opportunities she doesn’t think she could have gotten without the connections she’s made through the students and faculty in the School of Image Arts.

“I’ve kind of discovered a voice for my own identity in terms of being Indigenous ... I’m exploring a topic that is personal to me but personal to a lot of other Indigenous people as well.”

“I’m also really passionate about a lot of things and I want to help as many people as I can. I don’t like to say no but I’m learning to say no a lot more. I just always want to be working on these different projects. They keep me going.”




Jillian Maniquis


While Maniquis had initially never intended to self-publish Nineteen, she found that the few times she did publish her prose it connected her to strangers who were experiencing similar emotions.

Nineteen is a project that Jillian Maniquis describes as a small peek into her heart and everything that has shaped it. Her collection of “rambles, prose and poetry” began as a three-year passion project while Maniquis wrote in her journals, trying to make sense of the emotions she felt. As she continued to write, the intimate journals where she grappled with her negative thoughts grew into books of self-awareness and growth.

“Writing creates a shared human experience—realizing that you are not alone in what you feel,” Maniquis said. Her collection copes with universal emotions, creating a medium of shared human experience that readers can connect to.

Writing became a creative outlet for Maniquis when she was majoring in a program she didn’t enjoy before transferring into the Faculty of Communication and Design. Now studying media production, Maniquis feels equipped with the skills to add visual aspects, like video and graphics, to her collection of words.

“Readers are meant to find themselves under the cover, even if just a small piece of themselves” Maniquis said.



Illustrations by Jacqueline Marcelo


Illustrations by Jacqueline Marcelo




Jillian Maniquis Second-year media production Nineteen Poetry and film 2018




Melissa Chan

Melissa Chan’s portrait series, Luminance, includes photographs of three of her close friends who have supported each other through their transitions into young adulthood. With this project, she said she hoped to capture the personal nature of creative work and the effortless beauty of her subjects. Although she thinks of photography as a hobby, taking photos from the beginning of high school and throughout her time in university has helped Chan discover that being creative is a part of her identity. Through her photography, particularly portraiture, Chan has collaborated with others and spent valuable time with her close friends. Her experience at Ryerson’s Faculty of Communication and Design has showed her the value of building and sustaining relationships with other creators. “The best work often results from collaborative efforts,” she said.

Melissa Chan Fourth-year creative industries Luminance Photography 2016



APERTURE Megan Shine Barrientos

Aperture is the space through which light passes in an optical instrument, most wellknown as the opening where light enters a camera. Aperture is also the title of the lighting proposal that Megan Barrientos individually created in a group assignment for IRN 400, an interior design studio class. In the School of Interior Design at Ryerson University, Barrientos believes she has found a community that pushes her to design her best work. “It goes without saying that I wouldn’t have thought of this concept without the guidance of my professors and more importantly, my beloved fellow classmates,” she said. In her proposal, before visitors walk through the centre to learn about film history, their visit begins with a lighting display. The skylight of dichroic vinyl allows sunlight to shine through in different colours from different directions. A lens diaphragm controls how much light comes from the roof, with the ability to adapt to sunny days or for a movie screening. She credits the structure of cameras as her inspiration for Aperture. “It all begins with the camera; film could have never existed without this revolutionary invention,” said Barrientos. She believes that Aperture can inspire creators to view everyday objects differently, similar to how she used a camera’s ability to control the intake of light as a design solution.



Megan Shine Barrientos Third-year interior design Aperture Black Acrylic, Dichroic Vinyl, Wood, Metal, Rhino3D, VRAY 2018




Jonathan Thielens, Aaron Klem

Jonathan Thielens and Aaron Klem created Grove VR in order to showcase a world that “provokes deep exploration.” Inspired by seeking adventure in surreal and unknown places, Thielens set out to spark a new curiosity in those who engage with his virtual reality (VR) projects. Grove VR was the final project produced for the class RTA 953—mobility and mixed reality.

Jonathan Thielens and Aaron Klem Fourth-year new media Grove VR Interactive Virtual Reality Experience on Oculus Go 2018

According to Thielens, the Faculty of Communication and Design at Ryerson “represents innovation through the newest and most advanced mediums.” “I believe that the medium of VR is extremely innovative as a platform for artistic experiences,” he said. Through the use of detailed graphics, the piece demonstrates an alternative to traditional art by giving viewers a glance at what the medium of virtual reality can bring to the artistic sector.








Nour Al-Saied Nour Al-Saied wrote What Starts High, Must End Low to recount the tale of a romantic relationship and its impending end. Combining different aspects of text and layout, she told her story by creating a visually enticing and intellectually stimulating spread. This poem started off as a school assignment for a creative writing class, but turned into an honest piece of personal and emotional expression. Al-Saied said she arranged the stanzas to look like a set of stairs because the poem speaks about a relationship “going downhill.” She added that from another perspective, the stanzas may be seen seen as smoke rising from a

flame due to the recurring mention of a candle, combining both metaphors and imagery into her work. Al-Saied believes that journalism and poetry are more similar than others may think, as both mediums require honesty and authenticity. “Many people think journalism has too many rules … [but] there are times when you have lots of creative freedom,” she said. “Creative freedom is what helps us make our work more personal and makes art come to life.”



OUR LOVE was like a candle. It began from the top of the wick, burning Brightly and illuminating every dark corner. The flame was as strong as titanium. No wind, No matter how cold, could diminish its strength. But I didn’t notice the wax dripping so rapidly, Burning the surface of the chestnut-coloured table. AT FIRST, its form was perfect. Strong, tall, long-lasting, And prideful. It had a beautiful structure, A stunning shape. But the longer it was lit, The more it lost its impeccable figure. The shorter it became, the more it Resembled a fat, shameful lump. At one point, it started to look like slime. THE SMOKE touched the ceiling, Licking the roof and saying hello To the spiders at the top. But then It weakened, only managing to reach The lampshade. Our candle was gone. There was nothing left but darkness When we reached the bottom.








DANA SEIF For each workshop, Seif chose motifs like mistakes, identity and heartache, topics that people often struggle to open up about.

Despite being an artist of various mediums, a “mosaic person” in her own words, Dana Seif has most significantly felt the power of writing. To her, writing is healing.

“I’ve noticed this culture of pretending something didn’t happen just because you don’t want to deal with it,” she said. “People come to the sessions and they talk about those things, and they write about them.”

The graduate student arrived in Toronto for the first time in September 2018 to begin her studies in the media production program at Ryerson. Her initial plan was to attend Western University for media and communications, but Seif decided to apply to Ryerson at the last minute. After getting accepted to both, she went with her gut and chose Ryerson. From there, she described everything as happening organically.

Seif realized that people attended her workshops because of the themes. Many people who didn’t define themselves as writers came because they liked the subject matter. “It’s a very overwhelming and empowering feeling,” she said.

Seif was born to Lebanese-Canadian parents but grew up in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia and lived in Beirut for three years to complete her undergraduate degree in graphic design. During her second year in Beirut, Seif attended her first writers’ workshop.

The Poetry Passport became an incubator of sorts in Jeddah. “There weren’t a lot of other things happening, because it was a community where not a lot of people came together to talk about topics.”

After moving back to Jeddah once her undergrad was complete, Seif began a workshop called The Poetry Passport in September 2017. At the time, she was working a corporate design job that her heart just wasn’t in. The workshop became “this thing for my soul and spirit to do on the weekends,” she said.

With its success, the workshops soon became weekly. Seif decided to relate the effects of The Poetry Passport to her major paper, a component of the program that students work on throughout the year. While her thesis would evolve throughout the year, she knew it would have something to do with The Passport.

The Poetry Passport began as a bi-weekly writers’ workshop, each one with a unique theme.



Seif has found the assignments and research she does to be open and flexible. One project asked students to define an audience for a chosen project and naturally she chose to use The Poetry Passport. “Assignments are the mold of what you have to do and you have a lot of freedom of what you choose to put into it,” she said. “There’s a lot of ways to link the assignments to what you’re passionate about.” Seif is then able to use her program’s resources and assignments to keep enhancing The Poetry Passport. After The Passport, Seif founded Jeddah Spoken Word in November 2017, a monthly spoken word and story-telling event in Jeddah. She continues to plan the events, from designing posters to making the program, remotely from Toronto. She described spoken word as one of her biggest joys.

When she competed for the first time in September 2016, she placed second. The winner was invited to compete in London but Seif was just excited about how well she’d done in her first competition. Two months later, Seif received an email inviting her to attend the competition as well. She left the morning after her undergraduate graduation. After a night of celebration and packing her bag in the early hours of the morning, Seif was on a flight three hours later, and competed that same day. “My process usually starts with word vomit,” Seif explained. “I go through all my writings, see things that really stand out, put them together and just start having fun with puzzle piece playing,” she continued. When she is satisfied, Seif transfers her words from paper to screen and begins to practice performing her piece. She continues to add things intuitively, experimenting with new concepts along the way.

“You’ve got the voice variations, you’ve got volume, you’ve got body language. There are a lot of different things that are going on while you perform.” To Seif, spoken word impacts the audience more than anything. “It’s a very strong way to tell a story, and it really helps people connect to what you’re trying to say. It’s way more successful than throwing statistics or graphs at people,” she said. “It’s just more human.” The artist first discovered spoken word on YouTube when she was in high school. In her second year, a friend suggested that she apply to Beirut Spoken Word. She was accepted, and had the opportunity to spend several days workshopping her poems.



“My sister constantly tells me ‘please write something positive’,” she said, smiling. The poet shares her personal experiences and emotions with ease, showing how comfortable she is with being vulnerable. She said she wasn’t always this open, recalling her first writers’ workshop in Beirut, where she discovered a safe place. “Before that workshop, even in my own journal, the things that I would write about would all be in analogies or metaphors,” she said. “It’s like [I was] walking on eggshells around the topic.”

“I knew from experience that being vulnerable publicly means that people will be able to trust you and be vulnerable with you.”

“When I started the The Poetry Passport, in every workshop when there’s a writing warm-up, I tell everyone, ‘you don’t have to share what you write, so that you don’t self-censor’,” she explained. “You don’t have to self-censor,” she repeated.

However, for Seif, a poem is never complete.

Often times, people ended up sharing what they had written.

“There’s always something more that you can add to a poem because every time you perform it, you’re in a different place in your life,” she said. “It’s a personal journey.”

“I knew from experience that being vulnerable publicly means that people will be able to trust you and be vulnerable with you,” Seif said.

Similar to the essence of The Poetry Passport, Seif ’s poetry explores personal topics, often visiting themes like her Arab identity, trauma, mental illness, misogyny and abuse. She wants to address topics that aren’t openly addressed. “Those are all the things that screw with me the most and that screw with a lot of people the most, so those are the things we need to talk about,” she said.


The poet had created a safe space for others, like the one she had found in her first workshop in Beirut. As she flips through the pages of her journal, filled with doodles and scribbles, one could see a physical manifestation of Dana Seif. She is able to tell by her own handwriting exactly what she was feeling when she wrote a certain passage. “Writing has saved me several times,” she said with ease. “If you are a writer, you know that writing is going to save you.”


NEW DIALECT Arushi Chopra Second-year fashion design New Dialect Clothing collection 2018







Born in India and raised in Canada, Arushi Chopra grew up with a sense of uncertainty about her identity. Through her project New Dialect, Chopra has been able to channel her experiences into a collection of garments that were featured at Rome Fashion Week in January 2018. “This collection was my attempt to connect with and explore my Indian roots though fashion,” said Chopra. Drawing from thorough research—including an interview with her mother—and her knowledge of her favourite trends, Chopra was able to produce a collection that puts a Western twist on Indian fashion. Chopra said that the beauty of the Faculty of Communication and Design at Ryerson is that it teaches students the power of their personal narratives and how they can be used to reach a broader audience and effect social change. Through New Dialect, she hopes to broaden representation of immigrants and people of colour in Canada and show them that they aren’t alone in their experiences.




Soraya Sachedina

In her photo series What’s on your mind?, photographer Soraya Sachedina explores the art that can be produced out of simply asking her subjects what they’re thinking about at any given moment. At first, Sachedina captured, edited and posted one single photo, not realizing it would soon turn into a collection. “It’s mind blowing how sometimes the best ideas come to you when you’re not thinking too much about it,” she said. The film major sees value in crossing between different mediums to further the potential of a story, especially when it comes to involving the subject more deeply within a piece. “Even though this medium is photography, sharing stories is something that surrounds film and creating films,” Sachedina said. “I think the stories shared can help me when creating video work.” Sachedina is currently working on transforming What’s on your mind? into a video series.





Soraya Sachedina Second-year film studies What’s on your mind? Photography 2018




Stereo is a five-part video series that strives to promote Toronto and its creativity. Each episode features an up-andcoming artist performing a live session in a specific area of Toronto—from Trinity Bellwoods to the Scarborough Bluffs. The artists also have a chance to speak to their experiences in the industry as well as their relationship with the city in a post-performance interview. By exploring the ever-expanding music scene and situating it in recognizable neighbourhoods, the series finds the tune of Toronto.


“FCAD (the Faculty of Communication and Design) promotes a culture of working hard to create something meaningful,” said McNeil. “We wanted to create something that reflected this beautiful city we live in, while also putting different artists on the map and giving them an avenue to show off their creativity.” “It promotes the diversity of Toronto,” she said.


Sarah McNeil, Lauren Knight, Kes Agnew, Emma Beaudin, Sam Hepperle, Kiersten Depina, Ronny Tam and Leia Comegna Fourth-year media production Stereo Video 2018



Opal Benhanoh First-year photography Man in the Arch Photography 2018 Sabrina Calandra Fourth-year photography Ever After Photography 2018








KIARA JULIEN Kiara Julien can find creative ways to interpret anything into design. A clear example of this is the winter coat she created for her core fashion design course. Inspired by a podcast she was listening to about cults, Julien wondered what priest robes would look like as tailored coats, since “cults are heavily influenced by religion.” “What if everyone had to look the same too?” she thought. “What if everyone had to wear this coat as a part of their membership to this cult?” The third-year fashion design student had set out to turn an abstract theme into fashion design. She played around with the idea by crafting a triangular-shaped coat, like a priest’s robe. She considered colours like deep blue and purple, before settling on a black fabric. “There’s an element that’s kind of creepy about it, something just seems off, but it works.” For her leather jacket, another piece she created for the course, Julien turned the unconventional Tinkerbell-green leather she was given into a wrap-style top. This is another great example of her originality. Julien initially came to Ryerson from her


hometown of Guelph, Ont., for the fashion communication program. Although both the fashion communication and design specializations share the same first year curriculum, Julien found she was more interested in the elements of design. “I really fell in love with pattern drafting, which is the process of making each individual piece of a garment.” So, she decided to make the switch from communication to fashion design. Julien was drawn to how the design process touched on her practical and mathematical side. “It’s one of the only objective things in fashion because everything else is just so creative and up to your interpretation,” she said. “I prefer the making, and I like the challenge.” Most of Julien’s work is done in one of Ryerson’s fashion labs. The industrial-style classroom is equipped with rows of sewing machines and large tables for students to draft their pieces. Lockers where students can store their fabrics line the walls. Leaning against one of the tables, Julien zipped her sample coat on a “Judy,” what the fashion industry calls a mannequin. She was waiting for her critique—a short presentation where students individually


present and discuss the progress of their garment with their professor. Other fashion students were hard at work in the lab. Although there is a competitive nature in the program, there is also a true a sense of community, according to Julien. “We’re all a big family,” she said. They are a family that spends countless hours in the lab together, helping each other finish sewing their garments on time and offering suggestions, all to help one another become better designers. When it was her turn, Julien rolled the Judy to the front of the room. Throughout the eight-minute critique, she and her professor discussed the collar and the placement of the “dart” on the side of the coat, where the fabrics are folded and sewn. Julien took notes and asked questions, planning the changes she would make to her garment. Earlier that day, Julien had intuitively already begun to plan some of these changes over tea, while recounting her journey into fashion so far. As she sipped on a cup of Earl Grey, Julien explained how she was first drawn to fashion after discovering the TV show America’s Next Top Model. She would marathon the show every weekend. However, fashion fell off her radar because she thought that she could only be a designer or a model. At the time, Julien did not want to be either.

“I guess I’m out of luck, I’ll have to think of something else,” she recalled, laughing at her ten-year-old mentality. Fashion re-emerged on her radar when she stumbled upon a Teen Vogue handbook in high school. Julien was ecstatic to learn that there were actually many different roles in the fashion industry. Before discovering her love for design in her first year of university, she had her sights set on becoming a fashion journalist. From there, Julien took an extra semester of Grade 12 and then spent a semester in co-operative education at a sustainable clothing store. That year, she worked on her portfolio for her Ryerson application. “I couldn’t see myself going to school anywhere else,” she said. Julien said she didn’t come with much experience, but she had passion. “[My program] really taught me the skills that were relevant for the industry, and that kind of led me to what I could see myself doing as a career,” she said. This year, Julien is focusing on how each piece of clothing she creates fits on the body. “I’m looking at perfecting the shoulder,” Julien explained, touching on her technical side again. “Where do you want it to sit with the shoulder pad, how tight do you want the waist to be?”



“I really fell in love with pattern drafting, which is the process of making each individual piece of a garment.�




BHUTAN Karen Longwell With a regulated tourism industry, much of Bhutan’s traditions are left untouched by the rest of the world. Karen Longwell had dreamed of visiting this “mystical place,” as she called it, for a long time. Her dream came true in 2017, and as her travels led her through mountainous terrain and down long, winding roads, Longwell extensively captured her trip in photographs and later pieced them all together. Some of her photographs showcase snowy adventures, capturing the moments when a snowstorm had hit while the group she was travelling with were driving somewhere—at one point, they had to get out and push the bus on a snowy road, she said. Other images depict rural life in Bhutan, along with monks and temples. Longwell said the journalism program has helped her hone her writing skills and choose the best way to piece together this photo essay. She hopes her photographs will inspire others to travel and to consider how other people around the world live.







Karen Longwell Journalism, Graduate Studies In Search of Happiness in Bhutan Photo Essay 2018



NOWHERE TOSarah HIDE Chew No hiding place was safe for her. The closet, an often-used escape, had disloyal wooden doors that swung open to anyone who pulled on the handles from the outside. Underneath the bed wasn’t foolproof either, because it had gaping entrances that allowed angry claws to grab onto body parts, clothes, whatever was closest, and drag her out. Her long, thick black hair was another betrayer because it acted as a snare, as her pursuer took hold of the fibrous strands to draw her close and then hit her.

Sarah Chew Third-year journalism Nowhere To Hide Digital Article 2018

Running only made the beatings worse, so Delaney* assumed the position she always took when her mom got mad at her. The dark-eyed teenager coiled her body into a human cocoon, becoming an unarmoured armadillo to block the several blows her mother would deliver. A few years later, Delaney, now a third-year psychology student at McMaster University, has moved out of her family home and can reflect on her parents’ method of discipline. The Sri Lankan Canadian says her immigrant parents never hurt her enough to leave scars, but she remembers that both she and her older sister have been hit “to the point where you can see a handprint on our backs.”

“If I got in trouble at school, [or] if I got a really low mark … they [would] hit me using a wooden spoon, or with their hands, or with a hanger. Something that my mom could reach instantly,” recalls Delaney. Delaney is among the estimated thousands of Asian children in Canada who have grown up with corporal punishment, and are now suffering with the emotional impacts. According to Statistics Canada, 13 per cent of adults born between 1980 and 1999 reported being physically abused during their childhood. A sample study conducted in 2000 by the Asian Task Force Against Domestic Violence indicates that 60 to 80 per cent of Cambodians, Chinese, Koreans, South Asians and Vietnamese men and women reported being hit regularly in their childhoods. However, Statistics Canada’s 2014 report points out that the actual number of children who’ve experienced domestic physical abuse is unknown because of four reasons: *Name has been changed to protect the individual’s privacy.


KALEIDOSCOPE Firstly, there is no national survey for children to fill out. Secondly, most cases go unreported to the authorities because children don’t know who to tell. Thirdly, children often have a fear of consequences—like being abused more severely for speaking up.

punishment, so that once he turned 13, he had learned from his mistakes enough that both his parents could discipline him using only their words.

The fourth reason is the most important factor in understanding why most family violence cases go unreported, and why children such as Delaney grow up in fear of their parents: corporal punishment is expected, accepted and even respected in Asian communities.

There has been much debate over the relevance and necessity for section 43 of the Criminal Code, which outlines that every parent or guardian is justified to use force “by way of correction” towards children, as long as it doesn’t go too far.

Canada’s Legal Definition of Abuse

This Canadian law, which has existed since 1892, allows corrective force to be used as long as it “does not exceed what is reasonable under the circumstances.” This condition of the clause is very vague, which allows for any interpretation, and thus any physical or violent behaviour from guardians.

Gina Kim, a 20-year-old Korean Canadian whose parents are also immigrants, says her parents are very traditional and that physical punishment was common in their country after the Second World War. “I think that’s what they grew up with, so that’s all they really know how to do,” she says. “I think they think it’s a surefire way to get me to stop doing what I was doing because it’s scary and it hurts.”

Mae-Tuin Seto, senior counsel and legal services manager for Children’s Aid Society of Toronto, says that while the law doesn’t explicitly ban physical means of discipline, the organization does not condone it. “If you’re hitting any child, and you’re starting to leave a mark, you could be charged with physical assault.”

Kim, a third-year geography student at Western University, says she and her older brother have been physically disciplined throughout their lives in various forms, but mainly through sharp hits with household items.

The Singaporean Canadian mother of two suggests parents try alternative non-physical methods of discipline, such as “timeouts, speaking to the child in an age-appropriate manner, [and] withdrawing privileges.” She also suggests parents have a safety plan, such as going to a friends house to calm down if they are angry.

“I remember when I was younger, three to five years old, they would hit us at the back of our knees with a plastic pole.” Kim added that this form of punishment caused her to feel resentful towards her parents.

“In order to make sure our children – who are also our future citizens, future leaders, future workforce, our future parents – have a chance at life, we need to protect them from young.”

“For a very long time I thought they were evil and they didn’t deserve my love or attention,” says Kim. “I felt like I couldn’t trust them or open up to them because I was so scared of being hit. It really fractured the relationship between me and my parents.”

The Next Generation All three university students agreed that they would not hit their own children in the future. Delaney can see a clear difference in her wellbeing since moving out of her parents’ house.

A Contrasting Opinion Moosa Imran grew up knowing he wasn’t like the other kids in his class. His parents couldn’t send him to his room when he misbehaved, because his family all shared rooms. He and his older brother didn’t have cell phones that their Pakistani immigrant parents could take away. So the 20-year-old grew up understanding the corporal punishment.

“I’m much happier, my older sister is much happier [and] I haven’t been having a lot of episodes with my depression lately.” She doesn’t need a hiding place anymore.

“The only thing that made sense for them to do was get physical,” the Ryerson journalism student says calmly.

Feature has been altered for length, please visit the Kaleidoscope website to read the full version.

Imran says he was able to come to terms with his parents’ physical punishment because of how they would talk to him afterward. His mother would explain to him why he deserved the physical




Gabi Macias Third-year photography Platonic Intimacy Photography 2018




KALEIDOSCOPE The series Platonic Intimacy was developed by Gabi Macias to explore the deep connection that is achieved in many female friendships. By featuring subjects in the series who are all best friends in real life, Macias achieves a level of intimacy that is authentic and relatable. She hopes this series will help viewers “imagine that person in their life that they feel that connection with.” Macias says Ryerson’s Faculty of Communication and Design (FCAD) community has allowed her to collaborate with people from a diverse range of creative programs—many of her subjects in the series are also enrolled in FCAD programs.






Rebecca Collins, Julia Kozak What can bedroom space tell you about a person? In their film Butterfly, Rebecca Collins and Julia Kozak synthesize narrative, art direction, editing and sound to tell a story using only vignettes of a young girl’s room. Shot on coloured film, the piece evokes a sense of nostalgia as it transitions through the three different phases of a girl’s life. The first scene features toys like stuffed animals and Barbie dolls. The second shows a skateboard and walls adorned with magazine posters (including a photo of a young Leonardo DiCaprio, adorned with hearts). The third shows a more minimal working space—including a MacBook and a few personal photos perched on a desk. A camera with two butterfly stickers can be seen sitting on a dresser, which viewers can remember as the same ones seen in earlier scenes, decorating the mirror. According to Collins, the film program in the School of Image Arts at Ryerson has heavily focused on the components that her and Kozak learnt and used to create and edit this piece.



Rebecca Collins and Julia Kozak Third-year film studies Butterfly 16mm colour film 2018








KRISTIAN OKIRING Kristian Okiring lives a life full of adventure and change—but he has never felt out of place, and right now, he feels more at home than ever. “Every day of your life should be the best day of your life,” he said. “I’ll never look at the past and wish I was there.” The 19-year-old was born in Uganda, where he lived until he was six years old. Mud huts, shillings and 5 a.m. walks to fetch water from the well are most of what he remembers about his birth country. A large part of his childhood consisted of moving to Toronto, then to Alberta. Right before he started ninth grade, he received a full academic scholarship to one of the most prestigious private high schools in the country, located in Victoria, B.C. “I’ve always been independent,” he said. At the age of 14, he flew alone to the other side of the country to continue his education, leaving his mother and younger sister behind. This was not easy to do, as his mother had sacrificed a lot when she brought him and his sister to Canada. At the time, she was attending school while working four jobs. “My sense of appreciation for women was so profound and that’s something


that never left me,” he said. “Because of this, I will never allow myself to be lazy, knowing the struggle she went through.” He worked hard, so hard that he was elected head boy–the position of highest honour amongst students at his high school. “The head boy before me went to Harvard [University], and the head boy after me went to Harvard,” he said. “I toured 12 Ontario universities and the moment I came to Ryerson, I felt at home.” Home: something for him that wasn’t so concrete. “I wanted to make Toronto my home ... I saw how people were dressed, how people behaved, how the buildings were made. I saw downtown Toronto,” he said excitedly, fully content with where he is now. Okiring felt as though only the Faculty of Communication and Design (FCAD) at Ryerson offered studies that resonated with him. “I saw the programs they had, like professional communication, and I was so interested because … I was always public speaking, I was always doing theatre,” he said. “I wanted a program that used my skills to get a degree.”


when he met up with his friend, Lio, for a photoshoot. Lio took photos of Okiring in the Thomas Lounge of the Oakham House, a historic building located on Gould St. on Ryerson’s campus. The lounge is an open space used for events, but today it’s the location of Okiring’s artistic endeavours. He’s writing, having come with his laptop, a notebook and a hand drawn piece he hopes to use for an upcoming song cover as props for the shoot. His favourite lyric from his new song, Libra SZN, is, “It’s your birthday, have a drink, kiss me dirty, what you think?” “It’s making consent sexy,” he beamed as he talked it over with Lio, running lyrics by him. They soon switched roles and Okiring became the photographer while Lio became the subject. Although he wouldn’t limit himself to the title of photographer or model, Okiring has experienced a good amount of time in both roles. “I remember the first time I was looking at a fashion show online … I had really big feet as a child, people would make fun of me for it and how I walked,” he said. “So I googled ‘how to walk like a gentleman’ or something. The first thing that popped up was ‘men’s fashion show’,” he told the story laughing, saying his sister will remember the moment clearly.

Okiring is in his second year of the professional communication program, and has been learning to find himself in all he does—songwriting being the newest method. “I wrote my first song in December of 2017, called Delicate,” he said with a smile. “It was just me acknowledging myself, being aware of my hearts condition. I wrote it all in 45 minutes.”

During his time in Victoria, he modeled for a local clothing store called Four Horsemen Shop, where they believe in sustainability and ethically sourced material in their products. “I was able to appreciate [the process], represent the local youth and shine as a black model,” he said.

However, it’s not just singing and songwriting that remain his focus. He’s a jack-of-all-trades, dipping his feet into as many creative sectors as he can. “I’ve always been told you have to pick one, but it’s not like that for me,” he said.

“I’ve always had a passion for diversity and inclusivity, because I know what it’s

It was a brisk Wednesday afternoon



like to be part of a marginalized community. I wanted to do work with people who understood the world around them.” Okiring walked the Ryerson Body Positivity Fashion Show in 2017, an amazing moment he credited to being able to collaborate so easily within FCAD. “Ryerson has definitely given me the platform to meet really cool people in the industry and to meet people who are the future,” he said. That’s what Toronto and Ryerson are to him: places that promote collaboration and creativity. It’s not just the degree itself that is so alluring to Okiring. “The people in my program are as inspiring at the program itself,” he explained. “[And the profs] inspire creativity instead of enforcing it.” As he sat alone at one of the many pianos on campus, he brought himself to his own peace as he began singing. According to him, this is one of his greatest passions. “I really do hope I make it [singing], but it’s not my biggest focus,” he assured.

“I’ve always had a passion for diversity and inclusivity, because I know what it’s like to be part of a marginalized community.”


Between his time modeling, taking photos, singing and songwriting in the busy city he calls home, he is secure with where he is. “I’m someone who really appreciates the moments I’m in, I am never in a rush.”


SMS: SO MUCH SINCERITY As a student in the Faculty of Communication and Design (FCAD) at Ryerson who uses social media to establish professional connections, Chloe Hazard has often found herself censoring her social interactions in the name of being polite. Raw emotions like grief, love, longing and anger have been glossed over with a simple thumbs up. She has grown frustrated with having to hold herself back. Inspired by the honesty she saw in work produced by other FCAD students, Hazard decided to create something that would reject the superficial nature of social interaction. Through her project SMS: So Much Sincerity, she hopes to break down the barrier between what we say and what we mean. The colourful series contrasts carefully planned, monochromatic flat lays with upfront, unfiltered text messages. “This work is about things I wish I could say,” said Hazard. “These photographs … show the range of thoughts and feelings I needed to get off my chest, whether it’s ‘I love you’ or ‘I don’t trust you anymore.’”

Chloe Hazard









Austin Waddell Second-year photography Gooderham Building Photography 2018

Kate Nugent Second-year creative industries Lemon Pains Graphics and film 2018 John Monic Delante First-year photography Suburbia Hues Digital camera 2018



R ACHEL rose

Rachel Struthers First-year creative industries Rachel Rose Fashion design 2018



Rachel Rose is a fashion brand created by Rachel Struthers. Since taking a fashion design class in Grade 11, Struthers has released a collection for sale, had her work featured in a show and is constantly thinking up new projects. This series is a glimpse into her process as a designer and a view of the collection’s variety. “I love making pieces for something. I take inspiration from people and places, and when I make a piece it feels like I’m making it for that place or that person,” said Struthers. Despite only being in her first year in the Faculty of Communication and Design at Ryerson University, Struthers has already found a great deal of inspiration within the faculty. “Between the people I’m surrounded by in the faculty and the opportunities around every corner, there’s always something drawing my eye,” she said. Struthers has come a long way since spending endless hours hand-sewing on her dining room floor, but she believes this is still just the beginning.






Evan Arbic



Evan Arbic created “I” while starting an assignment for a production course in his program that ended up becoming something far more personal. “I” is a multi-channel video sculpture that functions by a generative code system that randomly sequences footage from his childhood on three screens stacked on top of each other. Arbic chose to specialize solely in the integrated digital (ID) stream of the image arts program at Ryerson this past year, previously focusing on both photography and ID. “Switching into integrated digital this year, my work has been heavily inspired by both course content and new avenues the institution has opened up for me,” said Arbic. He described this piece as setting out to portray “meaning from the unconscious through a random display of footage from the past.”


Evan Arbic Third-year integrated digital “I” Sculpture, Multi-channel Video, Generative Code 2018







THUY NGUYEN Two truths and a lie. Thuy Nguyen can kick ass in karate. She is a passionate and knowledgeable fourth-year interior design student at Ryerson University. And she was involved in the renovation of an ancient Italian fortress.

[Here] it’s just so different.”

Seems pretty obvious, right? Contrary to what you might think, even the third statement is true.

Her father’s understanding of their house from the outside-in is what Nguyen works toward by studying interior design, after her five-year education at the Hanoi Architectural University in Vietnam.

This past summer, Nguyen was one of 14 students from Ryerson’s School of Interior Design who spent eight weeks in Cortona, Italy for a short-term intensive travel with the Faculty of Communication and Design. In collaboration with ONTHEMOVE, the cultural association that managed the site of the Fortezza del Girifalco (Fortress of Girifalco), students created design proposals to turn the fortress into a creative destination. “And it’s on top of a mountain, so we had to come up with ideas to bring people up there,” she said. Since her move in 2016 from Da Nang, Vietnam to Toronto, Nguyen has been interested in discovering new things about the city. “My old city was dense and small,” she said. “The city centre was designed by the French so you could imagine how the streets were very small and narrow.


Her decision to attend Ryerson for interior design was inspired by her father. He built their former family home in a matter of months.

“In Vietnam, architects usually have to do everything,” said Nguyen. “We do architecture and interior design. And the demand for interior design is more than architecture. So when I came here, I thought maybe I want to learn more about interior design.” She is currently working on a proposal for an idea on how to make Dundas Square “better” to pitch to an architecture firm. To prepare for her upcoming interview, Nguyen sits amongst a pile of hardcovers. Nguyen compares Dundas Square to the same model as Times Square but without the same success. To her, Times Square has a linear pattern with a focal point at the end while Dundas Square is more like a pocket. She proposes that Victoria Street from the entrance to Ryerson all


the way to Massey Hall is turned into the square’s point of attraction with greenery, notices of the street’s history and possibly a campus exit from the subway. “We can change the identity of Dundas Square by connecting it to educational and cultural institutions instead of … the commercial Eaton Centre,” said Nguyen. “Maybe we can change the relationship between Ryerson and public space.” According to Nguyen, Toronto is part of a society that prefers specialization. She aspires to be an expert in both architecture and interior design. “Of course, it creates efficiency for society because everyone could [be] the best at what they’re working at, but it creates bias,” she said. People’s perception of interior design is usually that it’s just decoration, said Nguyen. But understanding the urban

scale (connecting a building to its neighbouring surroundings) and the human scale (creating a space for the nature of those in it) is an advantage Nguyen wants for herself. “I think when I’ll be able to understand both scales, I’ll be able to create more.” However, this advantage comes at a price. The cost of tuition and the urgency to find a job in her industry to receive permanent resident status weighs on Nguyen’s university career. “Tuition [has] increased by C$3,000. It doesn’t make sense … I’m in my fourth year. Let me graduate.” Nguyen is taking two liberal arts courses and is trying to receive challenge credits. A challenge credit is received when a student passes a test covering course material that they have learnt outside of the traditional post-secondary environment. The test costs C$100. “I feel bad for my parents. Hopefully, I will graduate soon.” To cope with situations like this, karate has been helpful for Nguyen and has taught her a lot. “My sensei told me that if somebody punched you and you get hurt, you’re not going to spend time to look at your scars,” she said. “[You] have to keep fighting. Keep moving and keep attacking back.” Nguyen began karate because she saw people practicing from outside a window. Her journey eventually led to a first-place trophy while still a white belt, the beginner’s level. “I have the attitude of not [being] scared of anything … if someone punched me in the face, I want to stand up and just keep going.” After graduation, Nguyen would like to



work for Patkau Architects in Vancouver. According to her, the office culture is bizarre because no one talks and everyone is focused on their work. The employees are driven by humanistic passion, which is exactly the kind of work environment she is looking for. “This is real architecture, it has a human element.” Nguyen’s eventual dream is to build her own house. “You don’t design things for yourself. You design things for clients. You build their dream,” she said. “If I build my own house that is when I will make my dream come true.” Nguyen is not afraid to travel far to make her dreams and goals come true. In 2017, she took a trip to Vancouver by herself to attend an architecture conference. She would rather attend an event about her interests than networking events where you have to sell yourself, she said. This way, she can meet new people and talk about her passion.

“You don’t design things for yourself. You design things for clients. You build their dream.” herself and without a trail guide, Nguyen hopped on a bus to Whistler, B.C., and hiked to the shores of Cheakamus Lake. She ate lunch in the grand open space, constantly looking around to see if there was a bear nearby. She admires the way Toronto’s population comes from different places with different ideas. According to Nguyen, the unexpected result sometimes conflicts but it “blends and grows organically”. To her, it gives the city a unique characteristic. Despite all her travels, for Nguyen, there’s something about Toronto that feels like home. “Toronto has been [taking in] different people from different parts of the world. So it’s like a mosaic painting, piecing together different colours,” she said.

During the trip, Nguyen had the opportunity to go hiking, one of her favourite hobbies. In a place she’s never been, by



BILL S-20FR3E “All social change in the history of humanity has come through the passion, the courage and the imagination of individuals.” This powerful quote from Paul Knight, co-founder of Greenpeace, opens Bill S-20FR3E. The short documentary film began as a school assignment for RTA 957 – Documentary Production, but quickly became a passion project for its creators. Directed by Sarah McNeil, produced by Lauren Knight and filmed and edited by Ronny Tam, the documentary film focuses on three activists fighting for the freedom of dolphins, whales and porpoises. Knight said that everyone on the team is “passionate about environmental activism and the eventual abolishment of marine captivity.” During production, they weren’t afraid to hold the people in power accountable and speak up for what they believe in. Through the film, they’re encouraging their audience to do the same. “The smallest voice can make a big difference,” Knight said.



Lauren Knight, Sarah McNeil and Ronny Tam



Lauren Knight, Sarah McNeil and Ronny Tam Fourth-year media production Bill S-20FR3E Documentary film 2017



Yvette Sin First-year media production Growing Pains Ink and digital 2018

Natalie Neagu First-year creative industries A Splash of Colour Acrylic paint 2018



SMOKE Jacklyn Gilmor

I. My father often said that his mother was tough as nails. I knew he was right as I sat at her bedside, holding her shriveled arm. There were too many tubes to count, and the one coming from underneath her blanket carried a dark brown liquid. Her mouth hung open, gums bare, and the bone of her chest rose sharply over the dip of her stomach. I watched her every breath. The fluorescent room smelled stale and carried strong notes of Lysol and vinegar. I read to her from the many highlighted verses in her ripped, yellowed Bible, but I don’t know if she could hear them.



II. My nanny always left a dark pink lipstick stain on her coffee mugs. Her pearls would clack when she pulled curlers from her pale hair. She wore magenta sweaters and had antique lamps that smelled of smoke. I remember being elated to visit her when I was a child. She’d say, “you kids are full of jelly beans,” and make us laugh. She used to bring a tray of sliced McIntosh apples and warm milk and cookies for all of the cousins. We sat on old carpet, surrounded by age-worn paperbacks and broken action figures — fascinating relics of my grandmother’s youth. She read Den Lil Pony to me when I was six, and I tried to make sense of the Norwegian words by looking at the horse paintings on the opposite page. By seven, I had mastered the art of false surprise. She reached behind her squeaky armchair to pull out her stash of taffys and Laura Secord lollipops. For me, it was always the green ones. She’d serve me french vanilla ice cream in a porcelain dish and laugh about the grass stains on my knees. I’d ask her about boys and she’d pinch my cheeks. “Don’t worry about that. Go play.”



III. At some point, I had to ask why Nanny forgot to give me a birthday present again. She kept calling me Sonya, my aunt’s name. She got upset at Sonya a lot then, and I was sure Sonya didn’t do anything wrong. Between my father and his siblings, there was a lot of whispering. I sat at the top of the basement stairs with the door cracked just so while they argued in the living room about where to stick their mother now. I didn’t understand. She had her good days. Once, when my father took me to visit her, she rubbed rouge on her leathery cheeks and tied her hair up in a bright scarf when we went for a walk in the gardens. She picked a wild rose and told me about all the men who’d loved her. I hugged her longer than usual when I left. The phone started ringing several times a day. Crackly messages: “Get me some cigs. I can’t find them. Haven’t smoked in a week… don’t let Sonya buy them, I’m mad at her. Wait, is this Peter? Okay, you’d better get me them quick.” Beep. I was a different age in her mind whenever I went to visit her. “Are you in high school yet?” “Grade eleven.” “Oh, what month is it?” “February. It’s your birthday.”




I didn’t know how to cry. None of us were shocked, because we had been waiting for weeks. But grief grips you whether you expect it to or not. We just sat around the bed, staring at a limp form with heavy arms. My dad opened some bottles of Perrier and cringed as he drank them. He never looked away. I had never touched a corpse before, but it felt more natural now than it ever had to touch her during life. She waited until everyone was gone before she let go, my parents said later. She had a lot of visitors that day, and she’d been in a rare state of awareness. Her children (my father, Sonya and Peter) left her for just ten minutes. When they came back, she was just a body. I have no doubt that she planned this. For weeks, her lungs had been filled with fluid and she was unable to even sip from a sponge. But she chose her moment. The woman had been smoke and antique treasures and secret candy to me for seventeen years. Now she was something else entirely.






Glendon McGowan

Glendon McGowan Third-year photography Sign(s) of Life Digital photography 2018



During the early fall mornings following the end of beach season, Glendon McGowan could be found trailing the shores of Lake Ontario with only his camera for company. These solitary adventures resulted in a collection of photos titled Sign(s) of Life. Although the project was primarily for his Photography Production class (MPS 506), the resulting work means much more to him than a grade. The series confronts the idea of abandonment

by exploring public spaces with the noticeable absence of a key component: people. “The spaces did feel quite eerie, but this allowed me to explore them and grasp a better understanding of how past events in each space shaped the way I perceived it,” McGowan said. By focusing on the aftermath of inhabitation—including an abandoned lifeguard station and a lone styrofoam food container—he was able to focus on the traces that create a sense


KALEIDOSCOPE of human activity, despite there being no one else around. “The School of Image Arts is always encouraging us to make work that speaks to your own artistic expression,” he said. “This is work that touches not only on feelings I experience, but on an idea that is not central to our livelihood.”








KASSANDRA NUNES - KHAN “Joya!” They’d call to her; her mother, father and grandparents, as she’d hammer away on the keys, just a little girl, barely able to talk.

had a love child, “but with a darker, more modern R&B sound,” she added. Those are big names to live up to, and she knows it.

Due to her partially Portuguese background, her mother and grandmother often called her “joya,” the Portuguese word for jewel. She added the letter ‘i’ in her stage name, Joyia, as her own personal touch on the family nickname.

Nunes-Khan writes her own music, either with her producer or at home on her keyboard. Every lyric is filled with proclamations of feelings. Whether they be first or second-hand, she sings them into reality.

“I added the ‘i’ because I wanted to incorporate my middle name, Kia, like the car.”

A guitarist, keyboard player and drummer accompany her in rehearsal., It was a grey Sunday and there were no lights on in the room. The musicians were relaxed. They were practicing for a show that was still five days away.

She rolled her eyes a bit as she mentioned the last part. It seems as though everything has a meaning to her–ones that are deep, below the surface of her artistry. Kassandra Nunes-Khan doesn’t come off as a conventional performer, she seems casual and laid back. Dressed in Lululemon leggings, Nike running shoes and a long grey jacket, a gold cross hung humbly from her neck. Here was a possible up-and-coming Toronto soul/R&B legend.

That evening, after a long two-hour rehearsal with her band, she sat patiently in a mastering studio for 40 minutes. She didn’t have to be there during the post-production work. She was tired after hours of rehearsing, yet she recognized the importance of being part of every step of the process.

With this, it seems fitting that the name of her first EP is Legends, which released January 2018.

Her excitement was evident when she turned to her dad and mouthed “I’m so happy” as they listened to her voice flow out of the speakers, while the technician edited away. She looked like she was dreaming.

The 22-year-old said her sound has been described as if Aaliyah and Norah Jones

Nunes-Khan’s musical journey has been a long one. For 22 years, she’s been singing


KALEIDOSCOPE along to anything she hears. Ever since she was a little girl, she would write songs about the cartoons she’d watch and harmonize to the music on the radio from the backseat of her car. “I was like 10 [years old] when my dad said, ‘you know, you might really have something here.’” This is when her classical vocal training began. It wasn’t until she was 14 years old that one of her vocal teachers suggested she start writing her own music. “You’re crazy,” she said. Eight years later, with an EP released, there’s no doubt the process was worth the outcome. “A lot of people think opportunities come to you but I think it’s about making opportunities for yourself, and working hard to get things.” Between church choir, singing lessons, producing and DJing, Nunes-Khan has dipped her toes into many musical endeavors before settling into her current place as, simply put, a musician.

“A lot of people think opportunities come to you, but I think it’s about making opportunities for yourself, and working hard to get things.”

She credits her enrolment to the creative industries program at Ryerson in 2014 as a catalyst for much of what she’s achieved so far. To her surprise, she was accepted to the prestigious jazz program at Humber College, though opted for Ryerson in the end. “The connections and friends I’ve made at Ryerson have been more valuable than Humber could’ve ever been.” she said. It wasn’t until halfway through her undergraduate career that she really started to understand what type of artist she wanted to be. Her program has specific streams students can choose from, and she chose to study music industry and media business, both immeasurably helpful in equipping her with the knowledge and tools she needs. The wide variety of opportunities the creative industries program offers is what



sealed the deal for her and led her to the path she walks confidently today. She has an aspiration, one that’s quite exceptional. She lets out a big breath, eyes going wide before launching into her explanation–it’s clear the size of this dream is daunting, even to her.

She spoke fervently, as if she’s explained this many times before. That despite the odds being against her, this dream of hers was worth pursuing.

Nunes-Khan wants to be the first ever female to sign with OVO Sound, Drake’s record label.

The studio she practices at is in her friend’s basement. The medium-sized room is swelling with equipment: speakers, wires, mics, instruments and soundboards fill the space–along with Muffin, the dubbed “studio dog.” She refers to the studio as her “second home.”

“It’s the number one source of my anxieties every morning,” she said with an honest laugh. No matter how she looks at it, one thought still scares her: the thought of not making it.

“If you ever wanted to know what life in the studio is like, it’s just listening to things over and over again on a loop,” she said as she laughed at her producer. She replays track after track before practice.

“The overarching theme of today’s world is that no job is stable,” she said. “So, if I’m going to have an unstable job regardless, why not do something I really love?”

The drummer counted the band in. She picked up a mic from the corner of the room and brought it to life.




Sindi Bastari



Sindi Bastari Fifth-year interior design Esplanade Photoshop 2018





Sindi Bastari formulated Esplanade to be an indoor promenade built underneath Toronto’s Gardiner Expressway. An intervention in the Fort York Visitor Centre, this design uses the Bentway—a public space hosting community events underneath the Gardiner, as a launching point to draw in visitors. Designed with the intention of enhancing neighbourhood connectivity, Esplanade provides a comfortable and architecturally unique space for people to gather and pass through. The site’s rich history and prior usage as a hunting, gathering and trade route for Indigenous peoples along Lake Ontario served as one form of inspiration for Bastari in developing the promenade concept. Bastari described Esplanade as “totally different than anything [she’s] tried to design in the past.” The design, which “brings nature into spaces through architecture” features organic wooden forms which provide light and help guide visitor pathways. Bastari said the guidance of her professor allowed her to bring her artistic vision to life. “This project helped me use critical thinking to solve design problems and come up with feasible solutions to them.” She hopes Esplanade will inspire students to take more risks with their creative process and see their ambitious ideas through.




Ronny Tam, Nico Tripodi, Emma Beudin, Leia Comegna Fourth-year new media Don’t Weep Music video 2018



Ronny Tam directed the music video for Don’t Weep, an original track by Nico Tripodi, as a passion project with the aim of depicting the difficult but rewarding journey towards becoming an artist. Tam drew inspiration from his personal experiences growing up and experiencing negative scrutiny for his decision to pursue a creative field. He said they “wanted the abstract concept to scream that it doesn’t matter who you make your art for, as long as it’s for yourself and the people who support you.” Tam studied at film school before coming to Ryerson and said he is inspired by how much his peers and professors support one another’s successes. “In film school, everyone was aiming for Hollywood where at Ryerson and in [my program], there are so many different types of people who want to do varying levels of work and we all push each other,” he said. Tam hopes Don’t Weep will encourage fellow artists to persevere through the challenges of the creative process and remember their support systems.




Tamara Habesch For Tamara Habesch, A Futile Affair symbolizes a new page in her work. “A Futile Affair takes the audience and pulls them into the fictional world, as if one has stepped into a fantasy,” Habesch said. Her idea developed after walking past a prop room and seeing a metal clothing rack inside. “‘People attached to hangers off a clothing rack’ was the first thought that came to mind,” Habesch explained. “In a society that is driven by trends, we have the ability to ‘put on different faces,’ so to speak.” She enlisted the help of models Kenneth Collins, Sam Yang, Nadine Rifai and Faisal Karadsheh to execute her vision. Rifai would play the part of a woman sifting through a clothing rack hung with potential significant others. Habesch intended this to be seen as a physical representation of swiping on a dating app, portraying an idea that modern matchmaking services have made it easy to categorize people like products. With its variety of courses and projects, Habesch said that the Faculty of Communication and Design both inspired her and showed her “the endless possibilities one can create,” motivating her own work.





Tamara Habesch Fourth-year media production A Futile Affair Photography 2018


CO-CREATIVE DIRECTORS Zoé Arseneau Caleigh Erin PHOTOGRAPHERS Sahar Askary Cole Legree LAYOUT ARTISTS Julia Forrester Jenifer Nguyen John Sicat Erica Wu

EVENTS DIRECTOR Kriti Sharma EVENT PLANNERS Helena Artates Emma Macklin Olivia Seward MARKETING DIRECTOR Emma Annalisa Stern

GRAPHIC DESIGNERS Adrianna Madore Bailey VanDuinen

MARKETING ASSOCIATES Taelor Lewis-Joseph Kennedy Lima Ryan Holley Maeve Badger Hannah Tsuji





WRITERS Catherine Abes Ashley Alagurajah Sydney Bartos Kieona George Alice Yao DIGITAL CONTENT CREATORS Alice Yu-Chen Chien Raizel Harjosubroto

Issuu converts static files into: digital portfolios, online yearbooks, online catalogs, digital photo albums and more. Sign up and create your flipbook.