PREVIEW: September/October 2020

SEPTEMBER/OCTOBER 2020

MASKS AND RIBBONS

Fancy shawl dancing on Toronto’s waterfront

“I DON’T SEE COLOUR”

Artists respond to this harmful statement

WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE?

Disability arts post-pandemic

Display until November 4, 2020 / $8.25

photo essay

Masks, Beads and Ribbons Fancy shawl dancing on Toronto’s waterfront photos by jonathan elliott

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the dance current SEPTEMBER/OCTOBER 2020

Sommaire Quand la pandémie de la COVID-19 s’est annoncée, Nichole Levack et sa fille Nazarene Pope ont organisé une opération de fabrication de masques. Depuis juillet, elles ont fourni plus de 1050 masques d’une part et d’autres de Turtle Island, le tout financé par des dons de matériaux et de fonds. Leveck est une artiste wyandotte de Toronto, Ontario. Elle est danseuse fancy shawl et jingle dress depuis plus de treize ans et enseigne depuis plus de onze ans dans différents organismes de la région du Grand Toronto. Elle figure dans les vidéoclips The Hills d’Amanie Illfated et I Can’t Remember My Name des Snotty Nose Rez Kids. Elle a performé au gala du prix Polaris en 2019 avec les Snotty Nose Rez Kids et sa fille, Pope. Leveck vise à être un modèle positif au sein de la communauté autochtone à Toronto.

Pope est une artiste afroautochtone de descendance wendat et trinidadienne, originaire de Toronto. Elle est danseuse fancy shawl et jingle dress depuis plus de onze ans. Ses spectacles comptent le gala du prix Polaris en 2019 ainsi que le Fort York Indigenous Arts Festival la même année.

When the COVID-19 pandemic hit, Nichole Leveck and her daughter, Nazarene Pope, organized a mask-making operation. Funded by donations (supplies and funds), they have provided more than 1050 masks across Turtle Island since July.

Leveck is a Wyandot artist from Toronto, Ontario. She has been a fancy shawl and jingle dress dancer for more than thirteen years and has been teaching for more than eleven years at various organizations throughout the Greater Toronto Area. She was featured in Amanie Illfated’s music video The Hills and Snotty Nose Rez Kids’ music video I Can’t Remember My Name, and she performed at the 2019 Polaris Music Prize Gala (for Snotty Nose Rez Kids) with Pope. Leveck strives to be a positive role model within the Indigenous community of Toronto.

Pope is an Afro-Indigenous artist of Wendat and Trinidadian descent, born and raised in Toronto. Pope has been a fancy shawl and jingle dress dancer for more than eleven years, and her performances include the 2019 Polaris Music Prize Gala and the 2019 Fort York Indigenous Arts Festival. thedancecurrent.com

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feature

ALL

THAT

Wngz / Photo by Sly Feiticeira

The role of the artist is exactly the same as the role of the lover.

If I love you, I have to make you conscious of the things you don’t see – JAMES BALDWIN

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the dance current SEPTEMBER/OCTOBER 2020

WE

ARE

Artists respond to the statement “I don’t see colour” by ravyn ariah wngz

I

n this moment, Black people are seeing the descendants of colonization wake up to the terror their ancestors created. We are witnessing the dehumanization of Black people and hearing the rallying cry “All Black Lives Matter.” The recent Black Lives Matter (BLM) protests have forced publications and institutions to craft Black solidarity statements and hire and support Black artists for the first time. But do Black stories, Black creators and Black curators actually matter to these institutions?

I believe the institution of dance has divorced itself from speaking truth to power, an act that contributes to the violent erasure of Black artists. This silently violent attempt to absolve themselves from anti-Black, racist practices, while purporting inclusiveness and diversity, is in fact part of the same system of whiteness (culture of white supremacy) that the BLM protests seek to dismantle. If you don’t ask yourself about your own indoctrination into these systems and how white supremacy manifests in you, then you are part of the problem.

Black creators are fighting to be seen for all that we are and all that we bring to the culture of art and humanity. To add to this conversation, I asked several dance artists: How does the statement “I don’t see colour; we are all the same” make you feel?

thedancecurrent.com

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in conversation

Where Do We Go From Here?

When COVID-19 sent dancers home, communities quickly adapted.

Can that flexibility be applied to disability arts post-pandemic? by patricia allison

Author’s Note: This was written at the end of June 2020. I acknowledge that by the time you are reading this piece, the world may look starkly different from when this conversation took place. Within this piece, we spoke to our personal experiences as artists with disabilities navigating this pandemic. I would like to acknowledge those who have been gravely affected by COVID-19. I want to acknowledge my support of anti-racism and the Black Lives Matter protests as we did not speak of them within this piece, but they are a large part of the moment that we are living in and navigating.

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the dance current SEPTEMBER/OCTOBER 2020

Back in April when the realities of this pandemic were setting in, I sat down to write an article called “Welcome to Our World” for The Dance Current’s website. It was a reflection piece on my own work and its intersection within the pandemic. At the time, I was supposed to participate in an artistic residency and create a new piece that would act as my return to performing after being diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, three years prior. I was going to tackle the question “How do I create a performance that is as variable as my disease?” or “How do I create a piece that I don’t have to show up for?” But that residency got cancelled.

I find it serendipitous that when the pandemic hit, it catapulted a macro version of these questions onto the entire live art community. Theatres were closing their physical doors, and the entire industry had to reinvent itself. I found myself reflecting on the positionality of disability arts and wondered if there was anything that the larger arts community could learn from disabled artists. We quickly saw national opportunities for funding from institutions like the National Arts Centre and the CBC for creation at home. While this was wonderful and well needed, I found myself wondering why these initiatives weren’t offered before or how slow change would have been if it had been made at the advocacy of the disability community before the pandemic. I was impressed with how able and willing the community was to adjust to a new way of working, but I was worried about who would be left behind.

While that original article generated fruitful discussions within dance communities, it also highlighted the desire for a more in-depth look at disability arts during the pandemic. The time that has elapsed between writing that original piece and writing this one has clarified things about disability arts in a lot of ways while leaving many more questions in its wake.

This conversation is here to expand on the ideas from my original piece by including voices and perspectives that are outside of my own. Disability arts is not a homogenous group of artists but a vibrant and nuanced ecology within the culture of art in Canada. I hoped to crack open this conversation just a little bit to explore these carefully curated voices.

I spoke with Alberta-based Justin Mii-Sum-In-Iskum Many Fingers, an Indigenous, Queer, multidisciplinary artist who identifies as disabled; Jordan Sangalang, a mime, theatre and dance artist who is Deaf, based in Manitoba; and Kelsie

Photo from Allison’s original column / Photo courtesy of Allison

Acton, a choreographer and access consultant who is neurodivergent, originally from Edmonton and currently living in London, England.

Unable to physically congregate for this conversation, I spoke with these artists remotely: Many Fingers on the phone and then in a group video call with Sangalang and Acton, with ASL interpretation by Rosalie Vissers.

I acknowledge that I didn’t even come close to including every type of disability that exists within dance in Canada, but I hope that this brief conversation can act as a catalyst to further the conversation of disability arts within this pandemic and we can continue investigating where we go from here.

Patricia Allison Have you found yourself creating or publicly

performing art through this time? I, personally, really haven’t.

Justin Many Fingers No. Absolutely not, and then I have been

trying to stop myself from feeling bad that I’m not. There’s a reason behind it, but I didn’t know what it was. You know I’m physically disabled, but I also live with bipolar and ADHD, so through this whole COVID my mental health has been, like, the most struggle just trying to even wrap my head around it. Also, I’ve studied almost thirteen years now in the field of creative performance art and I have not created my art to be filmed or to be virtually looked at.

PA Yeah! That’s huge, actually.

JMF How am I supposed to adapt, given all these other

circumstances? So, I’m like, you know what? I’m just going to have to wait it out.

thedancecurrent.com

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