Corey Hirsch is among the honorees of this year’s Courage to Come Back Awards. (photo from Courage to Come Back)
“Believe me when I say that the stories we share are true journeys of bravery, resilience and strength in the face of adversity. They will leave you inspired and optimistic – a weekly dose of courage that I believe we need now, more than ever,” Lorne Segal, longtime chair of the Courage to Come Back Awards, told the Independent.
While the annual gala event had to be canceled because of COVID-19, every week this month, one of the five award recipients is being announced, and a video of their stories shared.
“We’re also sharing videos highlighting some of the incredible work of Coast Mental Health’s frontline workers during COVID-19,” said Segal. These can be viewed at couragetocomeback.ca.
“Every year,” said Segal, “the Courage to Come Back Awards raise critical funds that support over 40 of Coast Mental Health’s programs, which provide food security, mental health support for youth, peer support services and so much more. They are vital to the recovery of vulnerable people living with mental illness.
“In community mental health, the only way to meet this crisis is to increase capacity – that’s where Coast Mental Health comes in. Coast provides shelter, a roof overhead, a support system of caring individuals, and the dignity of a job and training through employment opportunities, all for individuals, young and old, dealing with mental health challenges.
“This life-saving work would simply not be possible without the generous support we receive during the Courage to Come Back Awards,” he stressed. “I invite people to watch, and share these incredible videos of courage. Then, if you can, I’m asking you to join me in supporting Coast Mental Health as they prepare for the second wave of this pandemic, a mental health crisis potentially as devastating as the first wave of COVID-19.”
At press time, three of the award recipients had been announced: Corey Hirsch in the mental health category, Amanda Staller in the addiction category and Rumana Monzur in the physical rehabilitation category; the youth and medical categories are still to come.
Hirsch was the first honoree announced. While not Jewish, he said, his surname is and, that “[t]here is very much the possibility that I have Jewish ancestry; it’s just never been investigated.”
A former NHL goaltender and goaltending coach, Hirsch is a commentator with Sportsnet, as well as being a public speaker and an advocate for mental health and wellness. Born and raised in Alberta, he was drafted by the New York Rangers in 1991 and was a member of the team when they won the 1994 Stanley Cup. Also in 1994, he won a silver medal with the Canadian men’s hockey team in the Olympics at Lillehammer. In 1995, he was traded to Vancouver, where he began losing his struggle with mental illness, but eventually reached out for help, and was diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder.
Of the Courage to Come Back Award, he said, “It was very humbling to realize that I was in that category of people. And it was probably the first time it opened my eyes to realizing that what had happened – with coming out with my story in the Players Tribune [in 2017] – made a colossal impact on the world of mental health.
“There were people that came before me,” he acknowledged, pointing to Sheldon Kennedy, Theo Fleury and Clint Malarchuk. “Their stories helped me get my story out and made me feel safe,” he said.
Kennedy and Fleury were both abused by a coach when they were in junior hockey. Malarchuk, a fellow goalie and a friend, struggled with post-traumatic stress disorder after his jugular vein was accidentally severed by another player’s skate, as well as with obsessive-compulsive disorder, even attempting suicide.
“OCD, typically, doesn’t start from childhood trauma,” explained Hirsch, adding, “Most people I know can tell you the time, place, where they were at when their brains just kind of broke. There could be childhood trauma with people, but, for me, [there wasn’t any]. I was on my way to the NHL, I had athletic talent as a kid, lots of friends, no real signs of mental health [issues]. I had anxiety issues, [but] a lot of kids do.”
Hirsch grew up in Calgary, with parents he described as loving, and an older brother. Sports were encouraged. “Hockey was something that, you know, it’s a religion in Canada,” said Hirsch who, at age 16, moved to Kamloops to play the sport. “I had a really good junior career, won a national championship. From there, I went on to the Olympics. Things were looking like I was going to make millions playing in the NHL. I was on the road.”
Hirsch describes in detail the type of OCD with which he struggles in his article on the Players Tribune media platform.
“I think that what people thought OCD was, was the hand-washers, someone that’s organized and all that. There was a misconception, through stigma and other things, about OCD and people thought it was that,” he told the Independent. “So, how bad is that? You wash your hands too much. They didn’t take it very seriously … because that’s how OCD was portrayed.”
Hirsch is concerned about overall mental health, not only OCD. “I want to change the stigma to all of it,” he said.
As to why the stigma remains, he said, “Well, people don’t like to look inside, afraid of what they might find out. But, what you find out is that there’s a better life out there and you learn things…. Fear keeps people from getting help, stigma keeps people from getting help. It’s a great built-in excuse to say that you’re a man and men don’t get help; it’s a great built-in excuse if you don’t want to look internally. I get a lot of that.
“I got help, I live a great life. I’m not perfect – I’ll never say I am – but I still play hockey. I can still drink beer, I can still fix cars, I can still do all those things that are considered manly – I haven’t lost any of that. And the people around me are better for it. It’s tough to look inside and a lot of people don’t want to, but I know now it’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”
One of the reasons Hirsch decided to open up about his experiences is that, back when he was at his worst, in the mid-1990s, there was no readily available information on what he was experiencing.
“I scoured bookstores,” he said. “I did everything I could to try and find some hope, or even self-diagnose or [determine] that I wasn’t going to be like this the rest of my life. I felt so alone. I found nothing…. Part of it was because I didn’t even know what to look for, and I always said to myself, if I got better, that, one day, I would tell my story.
“I didn’t tell anybody anything, other than people close to me, for 20 years. I kept it in my chest. [But then] I met another NHL player who was active, in my retirement, and I met him, and he was in rehab for drugs. We got to talking, and I know now that mental health and addiction go hand in hand, so I spilled my story to him. And he looked at me and he said, that’s exactly what I’m going through.”
That was when Hirsch realized his story could help others who are suffering. “I need to let them know that they’re not alone,” he said.
Vancouver-based Hirsch is waiting out the pandemic in Toronto with his girlfriend. He is writing a memoir about his life with OCD, he plays golf, and spends time playing his guitar. “I’m terrible,” he said. “But I love it,” he said. “It’s been incredibly freeing. Music is so powerful and great for mental health. Any kind of art, it’s a great way to express, therapeutically, yourself.”
He is continuing his work in mental health and would like to see it become part of the curriculum in schools.
“If I could have known what I had when it happened to me and I could have gotten help the next day, I would have never ended up making an attempt on my life,” he said. “I don’t know what my NHL career would have looked like, but I would have never suffered and gone through what I went through for all those years, because early diagnosis is crucial with mental health.
“It’s not hard to teach our kids in high school, middle school, about anxiety, depression, OCD, bipolar, those things. They need that information. Why are we withholding it from them?”
Hirsch pointed to a U.S. Centre for Disease Control study finding that the suicide rate among people aged 10 to 24 increased 56% from 2007 to 2017 (see cdc.gov/nchs/ data/databriefs/db352-h.pdf).
“It’s like anything – teach our kids in school and then give them the tools and then hopefully we can put a dent in it,” he said, citing a need for a countrywide curriculum in health class. “That’s where we’re going to end the stigma … and suicide needs to stop being a taboo topic, it really does. It’s real and it’s happening and pretending it isn’t happening doesn’t make it go away.”
One could be forgiven for thinking there was a Jewish dance festival coming up, as there are so many community members participating in this year’s Dancing on the Edge, which takes place July 2-11.
Adapting to the circumstances of the pandemic, which limits public gatherings, DOTE festival producer Donna Spencer recently announced that, while it won’t be possible to present the initially planned 30-plus live performances, the festival “will be offering instead some specially curated digital programming with live-streamed performances, premières of dance films, dance discussions, four outdoor live performances in the Firehall’s courtyard and one dynamic theatre performance at the Firehall Arts Centre theatre (all live performances for very limited audiences with safety precautions in place).”
Among the featured dance companies and choreographers are, in alphabetical order, Action at a Distance (Vanessa Goodman), All Bodies Dance (Naomi Brand, with Carolina Bergonzoni), Ben Gorodetsky, Ne. Sans Opera and Dance (Idan Cohen), Radical System Art (Shay Kuebler), the response. (Amber Funk Barton) and Tara Cheyenne Performance.
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Action at a Distance is presenting Solvent, a new work created in collaboration with musician Loscil (Scott Morgan).
“I have been incorporating video footage into my work for years, and the recent time at home has provided an opportunity to generate material and experiment with new editing techniques,” said Goodman. “In some ways, this is an extension of our previous work together. Our first video collaboration was for a song on his album, Monument Builders. Since then, we have built four works together for my company Action at a Distance, including Never Still, which was presented by the Firehall Arts Centre in 2018.”
When the pandemic hit, Goodman said, “At first, I found myself grasping for something substantial to hold onto and tried to reschedule all the tours and premières that were being canceled. It was challenging to let go of everything. Eventually, I came to terms with the downtime and embraced the slow pace as best I could.”
When the need to isolate began, she said, “I started making short dance films for myself and my 96-year-old grandmother to help us stay connected. At times, it has been tough to stay motivated during the shutdown, and this was a simple way to stay creative.
“There’s no way to compare these sketches to a staged dance performance,” she said. “However, when I shifted my frame of mind and started to approach video as a whole new medium instead of an altered version of an existing piece, I became more comfortable with the idea of sharing work this way. I am very grateful to DOTE for bringing the community together to share work right now.”
Even in such times, arts and culture are “absolutely vital,” said Goodman. “Without them, we’re living in the dark ages. It is essential to have creative outlets for expression. Right now, finding connections through creativity can help cut through the isolation. Art can provide much-needed escape and levity in challenging times, as well as reframing current issues and inspiring insight around movements of essential social change.”
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Naomi Brand (photo by K. Ho)
All Bodies Dance Project (ABDP) is bringing Ho.Me to the festival. “The film was commissioned by F-O-R-M, Festival of Recorded Movement, last year … and is a collaboration between longtime ABDP company members Carolina Bergonzoni (choreographer/director), Peggy Leung (dancer), Harmanie Rose (dancer), Mathew Chyzyk (dancer) and Vancouver-based artist Gemma Crowe (cinematographer/editor) and Alex Mah (composer),” said Brand. “Ho.Me explores themes of belonging and comfort in relation to inhabiting one’s own body. The film is comprised of three personal solos shot inside the dancers’ own apartments. In the piece, we get to see these three very different bodies dancing within the privacy of their own homes among the objects that have meaning to them.
“While the film was created long before the pandemic, the significance of moving inside our homes feels really different now since we’ve all been spending so much time inside. Many dancers have been figuring out how to turn our living spaces into places where we can also practise, explore and move, as studios haven’t been an option.”
Since the start of the pandemic, ABDP has moved some of its community dance programming online.
“We also started a weekly virtual gathering for our community of dancers in order to prevent social isolation,” said Brand. “Many of our projects have been on hold. There is so much about what we do as a company that just isn’t compatible with the necessary restrictions of COVID life. Our work is based on bringing people with different bodies, backgrounds, experiences and abilities together to move, share and make in real-time. We’ve been thinking a lot about what kinds of things translate into the digital space and what things just can’t be replaced.”
She said, “Now more than ever we need community and collective experiences, as so many have been isolated during these past few months. People with disabilities in particular have experienced a lot of isolation and so we are even more committed to our purpose at All Bodies Dance Project.”
She added, “Dance is about each of our essential relationship to our own bodies. During COVID times, many of us have learned a lot about our own physical experience of moving through the world and the social choreography of physical distancing. There has been so much choreography on the sidewalks, grocery stores and, of course, in the streets during the incredible protests during this pandemic.”
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Ben Gorodetsky hangs on to an RV’s ladder in There Yet by Edmonton’s Mile Zero Dance. (photo by Marc J. Chalifoux)
Gorodetsky, who is Russian-Canadian, is one half of the political comedy duo Folk Lordz, with Cree co-creator Todd Houseman. The pair tackle racism, among other social ills, and have created a 15-part series “[r]eflecting urban-Indigenous, immigrant and activist perspectives through the lens of biting satire.” A second series of sketches is on its way, but Gorodetsky is bringing a very personal work to this year’s DOTE.
“It’s a movement video piece honouring my grandfather, Dolik (David) Lutsky. He died on April 3, 2020, and, since we could not gather for his funeral due to the pandemic, we were left to sort through our grief alone,” he shared. “One small relief was my grandmother mailing me a box of his clothes. Using these garments as performance artifacts, I created a digital video piece reimagining grieving rituals in the age of COVID.
“I explore the ceremony of wearing Dolik’s clothes and reactivating the narrative, cultural and physical threads of his life. Spoken oral histories exploring my grandfather’s immigration (I was born 10 days after they landed in Canada), identity (he was the official communist ‘propagandist’ at the coalmine he worked at in Ukraine) and faith (he went from being an ardent anti-religious communist to a practising Lubavitcher Jew) provide textual counterpoint to the dance video. The visuals themselves were all created through aerial drone photography, creating a fluid visual style for this interdisciplinary new video work. Country roads, forests and lakes frame this physical score exploring grief, memory and family history.”
Gorodetsky said, “I think if I had been able to grieve, remember and connect with my family after Dolik’s death, I would have no need to explore these ideas artistically. But, since I have not, I have a nagging need to articulate this particular pain through movement, story and visual composition.”
Since COVID, Gorodetsky has become the fulltime caregiver for his 2.5-year-old son. “Time and energy have become scarce resources,” he said, “so I’ve had to get better at working furiously fast while he naps. Focused blasts of creativity.
“Also, my family has been displaced from our home and all our possessions in Brooklyn, N.Y. We were in Kelowna (where I was teaching on a one-term contract at UBC in the performance program) when the border closed and we could not return to our home as planned. So, we’re in Waterloo, living at my sister-in-law’s house, until [who knows when]. Honestly, my mental health is brutal right now. Anxiety grips me in a way I had never experienced before, and I have had to find tactics for replenishing my depleted stores of happiness and hope. One thing that really helps is long bike rides with my son Gus. We get out of the city and follow country roads – we live near Amish country! It’s a small way to feel free, alive and empowered in the midst of these deeply destabilizing times.”
For Gorodetsky, who grew up in Metro Vancouver – in Burquitlam – “dance is a way of moving your grief around. It helps me shake the weight and sediment of catastrophe off and meet my grief as an equal, rather than as a victim.
“Gus and I developed a habit of walking to a beach or body of water, finding a big tree stump, climbing on top and dancing to a playlist called ‘Klezmer Dance Party at Home’ (lots of Klezmatics, Michael Winograd, Frank London, Socalled and Di Naye Kapelye). It’s been a real lifesaver.”
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Idan Cohen (photo by Or Druker)
Ne. Sans Opera and Dance’s Trionfi Amore (The Triumph of Love) was commissioned by Peter Bingham for EDAM’s Spring Choreographic Series, April 2019.
“It is a trio created for three phenomenal Vancouver-based performers, Kate Franklin, Jeremy O’Neill and Ted Littlemore,” said Cohen. “Besides being excellent dancers, these three are also trained musicians, and the piece utilizes their many talents.
“The trio is inspired by the opera Orfeo ed Euridice and is a part of my ongoing research on the theme of Orpheus,” he explained. “It speaks of love, and of the power of music and art to move, entertain and touch us. It also speaks of the power of manipulation and control on the individual and, as we prepare it for DOTE during this time, we find that new meanings present themselves to us.”
Cohen said, “The act of presenting something as abstract as the notion of love in a dance performance is quite a challenge by itself, and nowadays even more so – how do you speak of love without being able to touch, to be close to one another? Instead of looking at this as an obstacle, we choose to look at it as a source of inspiration, a new adventure. As artists, we reflect what we experience and then monitor, or direct, those notions into our actions and creative choices. My responsibility here is to stay true to the origins of this piece, but also to protect the viewers and the performers while offering art that speaks of relevant issues and current experiences.”
It hasn’t been easy.
“Ne. Sans had to stop our season and rethink and rearrange our commitments,” said Cohen. “It has been painful to see how many creative ventures that have been in the planning for quite awhile have been postponed or canceled, and to realize the ensuing financial and emotional toll…. I believe in the value and presence of arts in our community and in our lives, in countless ways, and tackle issues that I find not just relevant for myself, but that reflect on many lives. At the same time, I recognize how privileged I am to be here, in Vancouver, and to be safe and healthy.”
Whether theatre, music or dance, one thing common to all forms of live performance, said Cohen, “is that they are alive.” They all involve the human body, both “the performing bodies and the ones watching.”
“As an artist who uses movement as a primary artistic discipline,” he said, “I have a huge love and respect for the human body in its most basic form. When you learn to love and accept your body, you can truly love and respect people. That love is also where my queer identity(ies) meet my Jewish ancestry. So much hate is being inflicted on the body; if we don’t learn to love and appreciate our bodies, how can we truly love and appreciate someone else’s? How can we heal? With so much violence in our history and in our present, in a world polluted with ignorance and hate, how do we learn to love and forgive our ancestors, our pasts? The arts bear a huge responsibility. Artists need to change our priorities, acknowledge our inherited racism and create new stories.
“Ne. Sans is an organization that is centred on Western European music and dance, and my origins are in Western Europe,” he continued. “Our main goal in Ne. Sans is not to present a notion of nostalgia, romanticism and artificial beauty, but to raise the issues of violence and inequalities created by that culture, recreate its narratives and bring those up into the surface.”
In Jewish teaching, there is the concept of tikkun olam, repairing the world. “We can all be involved in tikkun olam at any given moment,” said Cohen, “and we need to keep adapting and correcting our values, individual or systemic. We have a responsibility to help and support one another. We have survived horrible historical events. Looking straight at our bleeding past and present: in the face of injustice, we cannot and will not stay silent.”
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Shay Kuebler (photo by JoyceTorres)
Kuebler, who has performed at the Chutzpah! Festival and is connected to the Jewish community through his sister’s family, will be presenting Momentum of Isolation at DOTE. Started last year, he said, “This first chapter of research is a chain of solos, for seven performers, that was developed by company artists online and in isolation.”
Given the restrictions required to control COVID, this part of “the project has taken on a much more singular focus on each artist’s personal interpretation,” said Kuebler. “As these solos were developed in home spaces and in isolation, the artists are performing their solos in smaller performance spaces – averaging six-by-nine feet – as well as performing these solos in relation to walls and surfaces in their environment.”
Of COVID’s impacts, he said, “There was certainly sadness and stress from losing work and touring opportunities. The company was two weeks away from a European tour when all the social protocols came into place. We were fortunate to receive some support and, after assessing the financial losses, we were able to move forward with a different creative practice for this phase of this project.
“The new creation practice of working online and in isolation actually revealed some very interesting new approaches and beneficial tactics. This online format had us focus on different dance techniques and improvisation tasks that could both challenge our individual movement skills and develop more group unity in movement. It also opened a window for focused study around the social content in the project.”
Kuebler said, “For myself as an artist, this time has offered me some space to ‘fill the well.’ I have been creating, traveling and supporting multiple projects simultaneously for a solid amount of time. This time in isolation, although not in the form that I would have wished for, or for anyone for that matter, has offered me space and time to just research and train…. I’ve found that, with this space, I’ve been more creative and have developed further outlets to express my creativity.”
He said, “I think that art holds a very important place in society. It offers people an escape from certain stresses and can help inspire them to find their own creativity. I believe that being creative can help you live with greater curiosity, humility and awareness of the world around you, which can make you a better member of society…. From this standpoint, I believe that art and artists gain greater relevance during challenging times and times of change.”
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Amber Funk Barton (photo by Chris Barton)
Barton’s company, the response., will host a special-edition, two-day version of Dance Café, which will feature eight Vancouver-based professional dance artists during DOTE.
“Together with my administration assistant, Kaia Shukin, we have been presenting Dance Café since 2017,” said Barton. Originally, it was held once a year as an informal, free event in studio, but, since May of this year, they have been presenting professional dance artists online using Instagram Live, and did so in June, as well. Given the positive response, Barton would like to keep the free event going monthly until the end of the year, but it will depend on resources, and she hopes people will donate to help make that happen.
With the arrival of the pandemic, Barton said, “It felt like many of the things I do changed overnight. At first – and there are still many moments at present – I felt overwhelmed with the learning curve of teaching and rehearsing on platforms such as Zoom. I feel that the act of participating in these online platforms, whether you are ready to or not, forces you to be creative just by showing up. In many ways, the act of applying for grants and the typical administration side of what I and the company do haven’t changed, but the artistic side of it is what I find is in question. How can we continue and how can we share and create work in a safe environment? Those are my biggest questions right now.”
For Barton, “Art can be a reflection of what we are experiencing in the world and can act as a mirror. It can be cathartic. It can also help us escape. We are all listening to music, watching films and trying to make sense of what is happening and/or trying to make time pass by. No one can deny that their consumption of art is interwoven in the daily fabric of their lives.”
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Tara Cheyenne Friedenberg (photo by Wendy D Photography)
At DOTE, Tara Cheyenne Performance will share two films made in collaboration with Allison Beda/Amuse Productions and possibly a live online performance, said Tara Cheyenne Friedenberg. “These works are a continuation of my solo I can’t remember the word for I can’t remember, which premièred at the Firehall in 2018.”
For Friedenberg, life during COVID has been “up and down.”
“Some days are good – home schooling actually happens (we have an 8-year-old), I might even take an online dance class and have a virtual rehearsal with my dramaturge Melanie Yeats. Other days, making lunch and trying to figure out Grade 3 fractions is too much,” she said. “I’m not loving the many, many Zoom meetings. I feel like our brains and bodies are compromised being in front of screens so much.
“Artistically, it has been invigorating and challenging – also very frustrating and often sad, to be honest – to try to reach my audience. I was recently working on a video of past work and noticed that, in every show, I literally climb into/onto the audience. My focus right now is how do I break the fourth wall when it is a virtual fourth wall.”
When asked the importance of the arts in such a stressful social and economic period, Friedenberg said, “We absolutely need to share stories and experiences right now. I feel like it is my duty to offer levity, commentary and my own feelings in order to facilitate those moments of community and recognition. My grandfather toured Europe playing piano for Maurice Chevalier leading up to the war, then here in Canada during the war. I feel like it’s in my blood to offer what I make, especially during difficult times. I’ve been making these very silly satire videos of my character Laura Lockdown, which people are enjoying I think because they allow us to laugh at the extreme situation we are all living through.”
Friedenberg also has been recording, for almost a year now, the podcast Talking Sh*t with Tara Cheyenne.
“I interview artists about their work, their lives and how they manage,” she said. “These interviews are even more interesting in the time of COVID-19. Creativity, and how we navigate its absence in the face of difficulty is so useful for all of us. Right now, I’m leaning towards interviewing artists of colour – voices, art and ideas that need to be heard.”
SD Holman, artistic and executive director of the Queer Arts Festival, which takes place July 16-26. (photo from QAF)
“Since the very beginning, I said not doing the festival was not an option … because my belief is that they [the arts] are really, really important – I would say essential.”
Sharing their appreciation for the vital work being done by those on the frontlines of the COVID-19 crisis, SD Holman, artistic and executive director of the Queer Arts Festival, said, “art is really keeping people alive, in different ways than the amazing health workers that are taking care of folks right now. Even people who say they don’t like art – if you read a book, if you watch Netflix, you take part in the art world.”
This year’s Queer Arts Festival, which takes place July 16-26, will happen mostly online. This is, of course, not what was initially planned.
By mid-May, Holman said, “we had to have a plan. And, right now, we’re still working on how the delivery is going to look because it’s not all digital. One of the things that was really important to us, to me, is that, not all people have computers, not all people have a stable wi-fi access, people can’t go to the libraries [now] if they don’t have computer, so how do people access it? If they’re not privileged enough to have this little box in front of them, how do we deliver a festival?”
One of the things being considered is billboard art. As well, there is the possibility of using parks as venues.
The planning of such a festival normally starts a year in advance, not the couple of months that COVID has allowed for a reimagined version. Some elements – such as the visual arts show – have been adapted for the new circumstances, while some will have to be postponed, as they do not lend themselves to online viewing, because they are interactive on some level, or the artists can’t make it to Vancouver.
When asked about the process for choosing festival artists, Holman said, “I talk a lot to people, I try and keep abreast of what’s going on. I always want to support local artists and also bring in folks from away, so that there are great conversations that happen of what’s going on in the world, as well as what’s happening here.”
The festival programmer does research and people can also apply to be part of the festival. As well, Holman said, “There’ll be people that talk to me about wanting to do something, and that usually percolates for two or three years before anything ever happens.”
Holman has been with the festival since its beginnings as a volunteer collective in 1998. “Two-spirit artist Robbie Hong, black artist Jeffrey Gibson were the main founders of Pride in Art [Society],” they explained. “I was an artist and then I became involved in the collective in 2005, when Robbie was wanting to step away … and I called in Dr. Rachel Kiyo Iwaasa because she had approached me about something and I said, ‘Come and join me on this.’ And we spearheaded making it professional, making it a festival…. It was a community visual art show up until that point…. As an artist myself, I wanted to pay artists – too often artists are expected to do stuff for free, and that’s impossible.”
According to the festival website, PiA became a not-for-profit in 2006, mounted its first festival in 2008 and rebranded to become the Queer Arts Festival in 2010, obtaining charitable status in 2012.
“Rachel has finally managed to extricate herself,” said Holman, “because we also both have our own arts practices and it’s very hard to run this organization and also have an arts practice; it might have fallen a bit by the wayside, but Rachel is a concert pianist. [She’s] no longer staff with us, [but] she’s still doing some contract work with us and passing over her organizational knowledge.”
While Holman is a photo-based artist, the festival remains their focus. It is the belief that “art changes people and people change the world” that motivates them, “because it’s important work” – “when a country is taken over, the first people they suppress are the artists.… You take over the media and you get rid of the artists because people can be completely destroyed – the first thing they start doing [to recover] is making art, whether it’s in a mud puddle, making a mud pie, they start, that is, expression; that’s what brings them back.
“Art reaches you on a visceral level,” Holman continued. “There’s this thing called confirmation bias, so we take in more what we already agree with, but art can get you in a way that can transform our ways of thinking.”
For Holman, being queer and Jewish are parts of their larger identity. Holman has self-described, for example, as “a queer pagan Jew” and “a Jewish, butch, bearded dyke.”
“I come from L.A.,” they told the Independent. “I was born and raised in L.A., and I have had several Jewish friends be, ‘Oh, you’re too much for Vancouver.’ And I’ve been here for a long time … [but] people are, ‘Why aren’t you in New York, why aren’t you in L.A.? Why aren’t you where you can be more?’ I always get this feeling here … that people are always trying to be, ‘Shh, could you just be a little bit quieter, could you just be not quite so much?’ There’s this too-muchness about Jews. And there’s kind of this too-muchness about queers, too. There’s this assimilation. My family assimilated – I got, from my bubbie and my great-aunt, I would get Christmas cards. We’re Jewish! But we assimilated because that was what was safe for us. And so there’s all this assimilation and erasure that happens with queers and Jews, because, also, many of us can pass; we can pass as straight, we can pass as not Jewish.”
Despite skepticism about the possibility of Jews being fully accepted – the white supremacist rally in Charlottesville a couple of years ago featured chants of “Jews will not replace us,” for example – Holman is completely out there in her Jewishness and queerness, in a seemingly fearless way.
“Oh no, I’m afraid of everything, that’s why I do it,” they said. “Although, that’s not true anymore. Since my wife died [in 2009], I don’t fear anything because the worst thing has already happened to me. But I used to be, I was quite fearful.… [However] I’ve never been able to be in the closet about anything really. And, I guess, for me, that’s kind of Jewishness, [being] more emotive and not afraid to debate, not always trying to please people. For me, it comes from my Jewish heritage.”
Despite the many accolades for their art and for their work with the Queer Arts Festival, including the 2014 YWCA Women of Distinction Award in Arts and Culture, Holman said, “I have been a failure all my life.” Among their reasons for that description, Holman said they are dyslexic. They added, “I’m butch, so that’s a failure as a woman; feminists were called failures as women.” But, they said, they are working with that in their art and, on the positive side, being a failure “frees you up to make your own rules, so make your own rules.”
The theme of this year’s Queer Arts Festival is “Wicked.” The press release quotes Oscar Wilde: “Wickedness is a myth invented by good people to account for the curious attractiveness of others.”
“It’s always really multi-layered the theme and then people take different stuff out of it,” said Holman. “So, there’s also the book Wicked … because Wicked is about it’s not easy being green, it’s not easy being different. It’s not easy being a Jew, it’s not easy being queer. It’s not easy being butch, it’s not easy being an activist. It’s all actually about activism, the book Wicked.”
In addition, there is, as Holman writes in the press release, the question, “What do we lose – who do we lose – if we accept induction into the dominant order, and reframe ourselves as a ‘moral minority’?”
“It’s a bit of a double pun,” they explained to the Independent. “The ‘Moral Majority’ years ago, who were trying to say [what’s acceptable in society], the right-wing, and there’s the ‘model minority,’” the Asian community, whose perceived greater-than-average success and stereotypical politeness are used to downplay the existence of racism. “It totally ties in with what I was talking about ‘too-muchness’ and excess and how we, as queers, work towards justice and inclusion.”
While becoming “more acceptable,” Holman said, “it’s still, ‘please don’t scare the horses.’… So, it’s OK if you want to be gay and lesbian and you want to get married and you want to have kids and you want to buy a house and be part of the whole heteronormative [framework] … be part of society’s morals, but could you leave the drag queens and the leather dykes at home?… Even with gender stuff. We know now that it’s a real spectrum and people are getting [more accepted], trans are really out in the world [for example] and it’s OK if you want to be a ‘real woman’ or a ‘real man,’ whatever that is, but people in between are still, ‘Come on, could you choose a side?’
“There’s this whole [feeling like], we’ve given you these things, we’ve given you marriage rights, you can have children, you can affirm your gender, you can do those things, but could you now just be nicer to us? And, I think, we have to be careful of that – being sanctioned by the state of what’s OK [because] then people get left behind, and that’s what we’re seeing right now … the more privilege you gain, you have to be really careful of that,” of remembering that not everyone is being treated well.
The QAF opens on July 16. “And we’re going to have a binge/party at the end, on the 26th, and there’ll be prizes,” said Holman. “We’re going to play the whole entire festival. I think it’s going to be 12 hours or something – we’re inviting people to get into their best dress jammies.
“Everything is going to be pay-what-you-can, by donation…. Pay as much as you can, please, because we want to support the artists.”
Among those artists are Jewish community members Avram Finkelstein, from New York, who helps open the festival (see jewishindependent.ca/political-art-of-living) and locally based Noam Gagnon, whose work This Crazy Show (July 25-26) is described as “a reflection on the quest for love, through revisiting the worlds of childhood, both real and imagined.” In it, he “choreographs and performs, pushing himself to his physical limit to explore and expose ‘the art of artifice’ in a culture obsessed with pretending authenticity. This Crazy Show explores just how precarious and ambiguous identity can be, through the evolution of the body and the self, as both are continuously morphing, unfixed and boldly celebrated.”
Avram Finkelstein will be participating in the Queer Arts Festival, which takes place July 16-26. (photo by Alina Oswald)
A lot of it feels familiar, said New York-based artist and activist Avram Finkelstein about the current situation in the United States. The same American institutions that failed during the HIV-AIDS crisis are failing to effectively deal with the pandemic. And, when he was a teenager in the 1960s, cities were also being burned in America.
“It’s sad to think that we will be having the same struggles,” he told the Jewish Independent in a phone interview last week. “But, also, as you get older, you realize that progress is not a pendulum swing from left to right, it’s actually a spiral going forward and things do move to the right and they move to the left, but [there is] incremental change. So, part of me feels like we’re seeing the dying gasp of a world that I hope we’re leaving behind, and I see a world in the future that I want to live in. So that’s kind of helping me through this.”
Finkelstein was scheduled to come to Vancouver next month to participate in the Queer Arts Festival.
A founding member of the Silence=Death and Gran Fury collectives, as well as the political group ACT UP, he is the author of After Silence: A History of AIDS Through its Images (University of California Press, 2017). His artwork is part of the permanent collections of MoMA, the Smithsonian, and the Victoria and Albert Museum, to name but a few places, and his work has been shown around the world. He was set to unveil one of his new works in Vancouver. As it is, with the restrictions required to minimize the spread of COVID-19, he will be helping open the festival remotely, as part of a panel discussion chaired by curator Jonny Sopotiuk, which will also provide viewers with a tour of the festival’s art exhibition.
“I have a large mural that was going to be in the exhibition and now it’s going to be in a virtual space,” said Finkelstein. “I’m very excited about this piece and the fact that Jonny chose it – it’s the first time I’ve shown it…. I had a commission to do a work for the Shed, which is a new art space in New York, and, while I was waiting for the weaving tests of the final pieces – it’s a very large jacquard weaving – I decided to start drawing from the same source material as the cartoon for the weaving. I hadn’t drawn since recovering from a stroke; I had a stroke about two years ago…. I then realized that my hand isn’t my own, my body is no longer my own.”
The source material, he explained, “is a portrait of a gender-non-conforming friend who later transitioned. The work was all about corporeality as an abstraction and the ways in which we’re allowed to look at certain things, and what is public and what is private about gender and sexuality. And then, all of sudden, I realized, I’m actually talking about my own body in these drawings because my own body is not my own body anymore. I realized that I had made this sharp pivot from an abstract, theoretical idea of corporeality to this kind of war or dance, or I don’t know how to describe the physical process of having to use your entire body to hold a pencil.”
Despite the health, political and other challenges Finkelstein has faced, he remains hopeful.
“We’re trained to think that, if we don’t have hope, then the only thing that’s left is despair, but the truth is, hope isn’t so much the point – it’s the horizon that hope is sitting on and, so long as you can see a horizon, I think that, to me, is the same thing,” he said.
“I’m Jewish, as you know, and I think that Jews have a very different relationship to memory and to witnessing. If your people have been chased all over the globe for centuries, you take a long view. You sleep with one eye open, but you take a long view, and I think, therein, I’m eternally hopeful.”
In an interview in 2018, Finkelstein predicted that the situation in the United States would worsen before it improved.
“Which is another thing about being Jewish – you learn that there is no such thing as paranoia because it’s all real,” he said. “So, one could have seen, as plain as the nose on one’s face, where America was heading. And, in actual fact, what happened with Trump’s election was, we’ve joined the international march of global totalitarianism…. And, it’s not about to get really bad, it’s really, really bad. It’s really bad and I think that, here again, you can’t be Jewish and not think – not think your entire life, actually – in some way being prepared for, OK, what are the risks I’m willing to take if this happens? How far would I be willing to fight for other people if that happens. The shadow of Nazi Germany never escaped your consciousness.”
So how does Finkelstein conquer the fear?
“I guess I’ve replaced it with anxiety,” he said, laughing. But, he added, “I don’t know why I’m not fearful. I think that I was just raised – a day doesn’t go by that I’m not reminded of another lesson or another incident or another part of Jewish-American social history in the 20th century that my family was directly there for. I almost feel like I’m the Zelig of the left. All the stories you would tell my mother or my father, they’d be like, ‘Oh, yeah, we were there. We were there at the Robeson riots. Oh, yeah, we were there when they closed The Cradle Will Rock and everyone walked down the street’ – exactly the way it was in the last scene in Tim Robbins’ movie. When I saw it, it seemed too preposterous, I called my mother, said, ‘Could that have happened?’ And she started singing the song that Emily Watson sings in the film.
“So, I think I have such a sense of self that one could interpret it as fearlessness, but I think that it would be more accurate to say I was not given an alternative role model. I was raised to feel the suffering of others and, if other people are suffering, there’s no night’s sleep for me. So, there’s really no option – you’re either closing your eyes to something terrible or you’re doing everything you can to try and make it less terrible. And I think that that’s the Jewish condition.”
He described Jews as being like queer people. “We are everywhere,” he said. “We’re in every culture, we’re in every race, we’re in every gender, we’re in every country. We have every type of ethnic community that we surround ourselves with. An Ethiopian Jew is different from an Ashkenazi Jew, but we’re still all Jews.”
Though raised by atheists, he said, “I don’t think you’ll find anyone more Jewish than I am or than my family, but Jews are prismatic. We are many things. Consequently, I feel like I can’t speak on behalf of other Jews, I can only speak on behalf of myself.
“Likewise, I’ve always had people of colour in my family; I just always have. And, I learned very early on back in the ’60s, when the civil rights movement was fragmented between King and Stokely Carmichael and the Panthers, and everyone was choosing sides, I think that’s another example of what I’m talking about – there are many ways in which to be black. And so, I don’t feel like what I have to say about this current moment is anywhere near as important, essential, vital, critical … [as] a person of colour – what a person of colour has to say about this moment is much more important.”
The original Silence=Death poster has been adapted over the years by many people, including for use as a pin.
Finkelstein was one of the minds behind the now-iconic Silence=Death poster, which has been adapted over the years by many people. A variation of it could be seen in at least one of the recent protests. The original iteration encourages viewers to use their power and, for example, vote. In general, working towards solutions is an important part of Finkelstein’s activism.
“I think critiques are easier,” he said. “I think also we mistake public spaces, we mistake the commons, as a declarative space. I tend to think of it as an interrogative space. I think that, even in late-stage capitalism, when someone is trying to get you to put your money in a bank or go buy a soft drink, there’s something Socratic about the gesture of trying to get you to do something … you’re responding to it, you’re engaged in it, and that’s the interrogative part that I think is easy to overlook. And I think that’s where the answers are.
“I think that the way that the Silence=Death poster is structured is it’s really like a bear trap. We worked on it for nine months – the colour has certain codes and signifiers, and the triangle has another set of codes and we changed the colour of the triangle from the [concentration] camps and inverted it to obfuscate some of the questions about victimhood. And the subtext has two lines of text, one that’s declarative and one that’s interrogative, and the point size forces you into a performative interaction.”
This poster and other work with which Finkelstein has been involved include aspects that “people are very afraid to experience,” he said, “which is fallibility, mess-making and tension. And I find all of those things as generative, as kindness, support, community. They’re differently generative and … hearing so many people who are trying to figure out how to find their way in, as white people, into the conversations that are happening in America right now, is the same struggle as a young queer person trying to find their way into the AIDS crisis. I mentor a lot of young queer artists and activists and the first thing they say, their immediate impulse is, I have no right to this story, I wasn’t here, I didn’t live through it. To which my response is, immediately, you have every right to the story – it’s your story, it’s the story of the world…. Race is a white person’s problem. People of colour are paying the price for it, but the problem, the genesis of the problem, is whiteness. And we have to figure out how to talk about it…. But I think now is the time for listening.”
He said, “We have to know what our responsibilities are and this goes back to Judaism – our responsibilities as witnesses. You can’t let your discomfort change the importance of this moment or overshadow the importance of this moment.”
One of the things Finkelstein does is teach social engagement via flash collectives. “I think we’re never put into a position where people mentor our personhood,” he said. “We have people mentor us as computer programmers or healthcare providers or tax accountants or artists or writers, but … there’s something primeval which is missing in the way we’re acculturated, and the flash collective is almost shamanistic in that regard; it taps into this primal thing that is quite astonishing when you let it out.”
Understanding that he will not live forever, he said “the Silence=Death poster casts a very mighty shadow and it makes it very difficult for people to figure out how to make new work, if that’s what they think it has to be…. It became obvious to me that I could be talking about Silence=Death until the day I drop, but, one day, I am going to drop and I want other people to start making those new works and I thought this would be a way to get people to make new work.”
He described the collectives, which teach political agency, as being “like a stew of the top 10 hits of grassroots organizing in a condensed workshop that’s tailored to the individuals in the room.”
He said, “I believe that I don’t necessarily have to change the world because I know that there could be a teenager in 2050 who sees something that someone I worked with did that made them think of something else that I never would have thought of. That is the point of the work, not the how do I fix it before I’m gone, which is the dilemma of Larry Kramer [who passed away last month]. He really thought, and I think it’s really male, but it’s very men of a certain generation also – he really thought that he could fix the AIDS crisis, and it didn’t happen.”
Unfortunately, space doesn’t allow for most of what Finkelstein shared with the Independent about Kramer, who he described as “a complicated person.”
Kramer was a rhetorician, said Finkelstein. “And I’m a propagandist. We’re both rhetoricians in a way, but what was the dividing line that made Larry incapable of understanding the work that I did?… I felt like I understood his process better than he understood mine. And I started to think, well, here’s the difference between a person who articulates their rage with words and a person who articulates their rage with every tool in the toolbox…. Not to make myself sound superior, but I realized that I think of rage as sculptural; he thought of rage as rhetorical. I think of rhetoric as sculptural, I think of it as casting a shadow and activating social spaces. And I think that he was a Jewish gay man of a different generation and a lot of his rage was tied into his personal struggles. And I did not have those. I had other personal struggles, but I did not have them.”
As part of the Queer Arts Festival, Finkelstein will lead a flash collective on the question, “What does queer public space mean in a 21st-century pandemic?” He hopes the resulting work will be shown in a public space.
For more information about the festival, visit queerartsfestival.com. The next issue of the JI will feature an interview with QAF artistic director and Jewish community member SD Holman.
A travelogue of observations and experiences from the unique to the mundane, the personal to the universal, a mix of prose and poetry, Goosefeather: Once Upon a Cartographic Adventure has arrived. Its journey, which started in 2011 when storyteller Naomi Eliana Pommier Steinberg interviewed her grandfather in Paris, will culminate in a book launch in Vancouver on June 9 that will stream live on Facebook and YouTube.
Vancouver-based artist Steinberg asked her maternal grandfather, who was not Jewish, more than 100 questions. In particular, she told the Jewish Independent in a 2018 interview, “I wanted to know how he had helped my Jewish grandmother survive the Second World War and why he was a collector of maps, weights and scales. Given his work with the metric system, I also thought it would be interesting for us to talk about measurements in general.” (See jewishindependent.ca/around-the-world-in-382-days.)
More than a year of research followed and, while she was able to show her grandfather pieces of what would become the performance work Goosefeather, he passed away before the work was completed. The JI saw the 2014 Vancouver Fringe Festival show, in which, the article notes, “Steinberg intersperses what she knows and learns about her grandfather with observations about the concept of measurement, of time and space. What do we measure? Our waists, our burdens? What are our favourite measuring tools? A yardstick, the position of the sun?” (See jewishindependent.ca/jewish-flare-at-fringe-festival.)
The idea that there is no such thing as an exact measurement is accented in the book Goosefeather, as an opportunity for readers to consider what they don’t know, to accept and embrace the unknown, and the fact that there will always be a margin of error, not just in our measurements, but in our perspectives and approaches to life.
“What I arrive at in the book is that: ‘Practising right-relation is predicated on allowing space for not knowing, space for humility, space for listening.’ It is a term borrowed from Buddhism,” Steinberg told the Independent in an interview last week.
“In Judaism,” she said, “there is kavanah, the stilling of self to prepare for entering the mystery. The setting of intention. Before ritual gestures, we centre ourselves, humble in the light of all there is, intending to practise peace. For some, the experience is made desirable and the longing for union acute through visualization. Then, I believe that tzedakah is one of the ways we can practise right-relation. With my own liberal interpretation and limited understanding, I could say that Judaism wrote laws to ensure the circulation of wealth, including, for example, tithing and taxation systems. Tzedakah, charity, is a mitzvah – a very important good deed. Finally, slichot [forgiveness prayers], the ability to recognize what is important … what needs to be let go, instead of focusing on negatives.”
The ability to adapt, to make quick decisions and to remain positive serve Steinberg well as a storyteller, no doubt. These attributes also helped on her travels, where things didn’t always go as planned, or were even left unplanned until the last minute. Her 382-day journey – by almost every mode of transportation except airplane – covered just under 56,000 kilometres and took her to many countries, including Canada and the United States, as well as Australia, China, Japan, Russia, Norway, England, Scotland, France, Switzerland and Belgium. She performed Goosefeather, as well as did other storytelling, along the way – 37 productions in all, according to the press material.
From countless experiences, Steinberg has created a concise account that is informational, philosophical, lyrical and thought-provoking. Some days, she records the details of her travels; other days, she ponders larger questions; yet other days, she simply notes how something smelled or sounded.
“An itinerant artist is a human on the road,” she explained. “There are ups and downs on life’s road. Parts of the 382 days on the road were uncomfortable or stretched out, long and slow. Well, we know it’s not all just fun and games in life. I wanted to keep it real. Much of what I was trying to do by sharing those moments was enter the banality of the day-to-day; to bring readers’ bodies there, evoking images, awakening senses, remembering experiences. That’s what storytellers do!”
Steinberg not only performed during her travels, but gave workshops, in which she offers her experience in crafting a story to communications professionals and other groups, stressing the importance of play and movement.
“The diaphragm is a great muscle that holds a lot of tension,” she explained. “It works super-hard every day, as does the heart, to maintain a flow of oxygen to all parts of the body. That’s amazing. We can practise gratitude towards our bodies every day! Sometimes, the tension in the diaphragm can be released through conscious breathing, laughter, certainly through yawning, and, probably, hopefully, through crying. These are four good ways to release the diaphragm. When we play, the diaphragm gets shaken up a bit and we can relax. Try it!
“Play is fun, charming, disarming. Play is guileless. Otherwise, you may as well call it manipulation and dress it up in propaganda’s clothes. Play can be surprising, logic threatening, synaptic gap leaping. These transformations in perspective can be subtle yet profound.”
Such thoughts come full circle back to the concept of margins of error and how our recognition of their existence could make us less quick to judge and more open to others’ ideas and perspectives.
Steinberg cited American writer and translator X.J. Kennedy, who, she noted, “says: ‘To leap over the wall of self, to look through another’s eyes – this is valuable experience, which literature offers.’
“Lateral movement is good for the body,” said Steinberg. “In theatresports, there is a game called space-jump – you literally leap in and out of scenarios, putting your whole self in an imaginary situation. Playing this feeds agility, spontaneity and willingness.”
Books, she said, are essential for many people, including, or perhaps especially during difficult periods, such as the COVID-19 pandemic we are currently experiencing. “Escaping into other experiences, or trying to understand what’s happening through the lens of historical accounts, can be a kind of lifesaver,” she said. “Books provide solace in challenging times. The act of writing can record, reflect and frame.”
Describing Goosefeather as “a memoir and travelogue with literary aspirations,” Steinberg said, “I have tried to bring my strength as an oral storyteller from the stage to the page. I hope the readers of Goosefeather feel included in a process of emergence and discovery. That a lightness and delight is found in the journey and that there is emotional resonance with humanity and with the planet. In some ways, I want to position the book as an antidote to the propagation of fear and the dangers of isolation.
“We are living a tremendous story of transformation,” she said. “The most gripping stories I’ve listened to or read, the ones that were somehow useful to my psyche, were the ones that gave insight into how a character might navigate difficulty, or might share their love and appreciation for what makes life wonderful. Listening, generosity, caring … these are manifest around the globe in a thousand small gestures and are giving shape to our emergent global culture. My hope is that Goosefeather’s story, her journey around the planet, contributes to this.”
And is that journey now complete?
“I like the idea that the performance is over, and need that for my own closure,” said Steinberg. “It ensures celebration of achievement. I can say, ‘Done’ – journey around planet as singular gesture towards time-space, ‘check!’
“Then there is the show, which I suppose could be performed again, but I’d have to relearn the text fresh and new. I’ve toyed with the idea of Goosefeather’s character doing a different stage performance, but, truth be told, I don’t actually know what comes next after this book! Maybe someone will pick it up and help with soft cover distribution? For now, I have 500 hardcover, first-edition, silver-gilded books for sale, and the desire to produce an interesting and entertaining live-stream launch event.”
Those who missed the Vancouver performances of Deborah Vogt’s Big Sister, which is performed by her real-life sister, Naomi Vogt, can rent it online until June 11. (photo from JW3)
Former Vancouverite Deborah Vogt’s play Big Sister is available to rent on JW3’s website until June 11.
Vogt is the arts and culture programmer at JW3, which is described on its website as a “cross-communal hub for Jewish arts, culture, family programming, social action, learning and much more.”
“JW3 opened its doors in October 2013 with the mission to increase the quality, variety and volume of Jewish conversations in London and beyond,” said Vogt of the centre, which is located in north London, on Finchley Road.
“I grew up in Vancouver and lived there my whole life, but decided to move to London three years ago,” she said. “I miss the trees, ocean and sushi in Vancouver, but love the excitement and opportunities in London. I joined JW3 as an employee in September 2019.”
Big Sister is a one-woman show about Vogt’s sister’s 75-pound weight loss, told through Vogt’s perspective, but performed by her sister, Naomi Vogt. It played the Vancouver Fringe Festival in 2018. At that time, Deborah Vogt told the Independent that writing the play was a challenge.
“First of all,” she said in that interview, “it was difficult trying to find the balance between Naomi as my real human sister and Naomi as a character. We wanted this show to be entirely truthful, while still presenting a piece of theatre. And this show touches on painful aspects of both of our lives (in a funny way, of course), so trying to write that without overstepping my place or lying to the audience about what actually happened (two sides to every story, right?) was difficult to manoeuvre.” (See jewishindependent.ca/fringe-mixes-drama-comedy.)
The video that is available via JW3’s website is from a sold-out production at the Cultch in February 2020, said the playwright. Being available online means that the work will be able to reach more people.
“The run at the Cultch sold out by opening night, so there may be people that didn’t get a chance to see it then now have the option,” said Vogt. “Putting Big Sister online in this form also expands on one of our themes: vulnerability.
“We never meant to share our work this way,” she explained. “We filmed it for archival purposes, not for public viewing. The show is meant to be live, and intimate, and present. That’s not an option right now, so, instead, we get to experiment with what it’s like for people to experience Big Sister in their living rooms.
“It also means the show lives on. For both Naomi and I, the show changes as our relationship changes. The filmed show captures our relationship in one specific moment in time. I’m interested to see what the next iteration will be.”
When asked to clarify what she meant by that, Vogt said, “I am speaking about our real-life relationship as well as our work, because the two became intertwined during Big Sister. The show allowed us to talk about things we never knew about one another, so it has affected, and strengthened, our relationship. If we decide to put the show on again, we may have to rewrite parts of it to reflect our current relationship. I have an idea for a sequel, but I haven’t told Naomi yet.”
JW3’s presentation of Big Sister is part of a season of streamed theatre through its virtual platform, said Vogt.
The first released was Wot? No Fish!!, which explores “the issue of the ‘outsider’ as artist, immigrant or disabled family member,” said Vogt. It is available for rental until June 4. Becoming Electra – “a heart-warming and original one-woman drag show about a queer Jewish girl trying to find her voice” – is available until June 21.
“The fourth piece is a West End show that had to end the run early, and more info will be released soon!” said Vogt.
About the online theatre presentations, she explained, “When JW3 had to physically shut our doors, the whole team worked incredibly hard to adapt and continue bringing programming into people’s homes. This means classes are online, we have a brand new website, and have had to come up with other creative ways to provide community during this difficult time. While we figure out the next steps for theatre and performance, we wanted to share a season of filmed versions of shows that have a special relationship to JW3. Big Sister is the first time I’ve been able to share my own theatre work with my programming work.”
While JW3 closed its doors to the public in March, Vogt said, “The building is now being used as a food bank, cooking and delivering meals to vulnerable people in Camden. The team has delivered over 5,000 meals already. So, while the building has closed to the public, the space is still being used to support the community. And that reflects the aims of the wider organization: everyone is working really hard to provide entertainment, education, community and connection during these isolating times.”
To find out more about JW3 and its programming, including various arts and culture rentals, visit jw3.org.uk.
The Burying Ground core duo is Woody Forster and Devora Laye, centre. On their newest album, they are joined by, left to right, Clara Rose, Joshua Doherty and Wynston Minckler. (photo by Mary Matheson)
The Burying Ground had a busy spring and summer planned, with dozens of performances scheduled around the release of their new album, A Look Back, this month. Then COVID-19 arrived and all those shows had to be canceled. Nonetheless, the band has carried on, releasing two singles already, and the full album comes out today, May 15.
“It was hard to let go of all the plans we’d been looking forward to but there’s not much we can do about that part so we haven’t let it get us too down (yet),” Jewish community member Devora Laye told the Independent. Laye, who is part of the core duo of the band, with partner Woody Forster, was philosophical.
“I do think it is important to recognize that we are all grieving in different ways and having to accept the disappointment that comes with all plans changed, canceled or on hold,” she said. “I also want to acknowledge that these plans feel small and that is why I think for me, personally, I haven’t gotten too down about my/our situation. It is a small struggle in the overall picture. We are OK. We are grateful to have what we need, to have each other and to be in this beautiful place by ocean and forest. I feel very sad for people who are suffering the most from this pandemic.”
While yet to live stream a concert, Laye and Forster are making plans for online shows. In the meantime, they are working on new material, which Forster said they “are hoping to iron out in the coming months.”
“I’ve been playing some guitar and Woody has been playing mandolin, which has been really fun!” said Laye, who does washboard, saw and vocals. “We have also been spending more time working on harmonies … [and] finishing up some original songs…. We’re thinking we’ll have enough material for another album later this year or by early next year.”
Their new release, A Look Back, was recorded in January. Forster said the band – he and Laye, plus Wynston Minckler (upright bass), Clara Rose (fiddle and harmonies) and Joshua Doherty (harmonica and harmonies), who have been accompanying the duo on the road for the last couple of years – were planning to be touring with hard copies of it, starting in the spring, to help fund its creation.
“The plan was to hit the road with our new CD on May 1st to play a handful of gigs on Vancouver Island and release the album to those audiences first,” said Laye, who had spent hundreds of hours booking the album shows. “We were looking forward to a 10-day tour to California, starting May 15th, including Northwest Folklife Festival in Seattle. June 5th, we were scheduled to play our local album release show at the Rogue Folk Club at James Hall in Vancouver; we were over the moon to play our album release at one of the best venues around.
“Anyhow, to sum it up – we were expecting to raise enough to press the physical album through our March and early April shows, however, because those didn’t happen, we didn’t have the funds to press the album just yet.”
Hence, releasing the two singles in advance, as well as allowing people to pre-order the album. But pragmatism wasn’t the only deciding factor.
“We really miss playing with the band and playing for crowds and, to be honest, as soon as the final masters came in, I was very eager to share at least some of the music with our family, friends and fans ASAP!” said Laye. “It’s a way to connect with people during the quarantine – I miss the in-person connections and energy from live shows but, for now, we will hope that our songs and the songs we’ve chosen to cover will be a little taste of that connection. I like to imagine that people who are listening to our music are also dancing in their kitchens – or wherever else they like to dance, in a socially distant way.”
The first single released, on April 17, was “How Long.” On the band’s Facebook page, Laye notes that it “is the very first song that we wrote for the Burying Ground. It’s a song about waiting for hard times to pass and better days to come.”
“‘How long ’til my luck’s gonna change’ is the chorus,” she told the Independent. “We typically play this one with crowd participation, which always puts a smile on our faces and helps us connect with the audience. It’s a relatable song about hard times and ‘bad luck.’ It’s a song that deals with struggle, not knowing when the struggle will end. We felt like it’s relatable to our times right now. When I chatted to our recording engineer, Marc L’Esperance, about our release plan/idea, he mentioned that ‘How Long’ is his favourite song off the album and thought it would be an appropriate song to release first.”
“How Long” was first recorded in 2014 and it appears on the Burying Ground first album, Big City Blues. Country Blues & Rags was their next recording, followed by The Burying Ground. (For more on the Burying Ground, see jewishindependent.ca/reinventing-old-time-music.)
On May 1, the band released the second single from A Look Back. Called “Please Don’t Talk About Me When I’m Gone,” Laye said she first heard the song on a Washboard Rhythm Kings recording made circa 1930. “I love it,” she said. “The music and the words. A couple years back, we heard Leon Redbone’s version (who happens to be one of Woody’s favourites). Redbone’s take on the song struck a chord with us and the rendition we’ve recorded is more in that vein.”
“Our music is and always has had a deep connection to older traditional styles that we love to pay homage to,” Forster added. He said the leading song on the new album, “Diving Duck,” was one of the first blues songs he ever learned, “so it felt like a fitting tune to kick the album off with. The recording I first heard of this song was with Sleepy John Estes and Yank Rachell, two great early blues musicians whose guitar and mandolin playing left an early mark for me musically.”
“Behind These Eyes” also has personal meaning for Forster and was one of the early songs that he wrote for the Burying Ground. “It stems from a story my grandfather had told me about his father and his two uncles, who went overseas to fight in the First World War in 1914,” explained Forster. “The war left one of his uncles unable to mentally deal with the things he had seen upon returning home. It was a powerful conversation for me and I feel like, with the current awareness now of PTSD that did not exist at that time, it made me really think about what he may have gone through.”
About the song “C Rag,” Forster said, “All of us being big fans of the guitar virtuosity of Gary Davis and his contribution to fingerstyle guitar, we felt that this instrumental number fit perfectly into the record.” And the Burying Ground pays tribute to another great American blues and ragtime musician on A Look Back, Arthur (“Blind”) Blake, doing their interpretation of Blake’s “Hey Hey Daddy Blues.”
The new album also includes the song “You Gotta Live So God Can Use You.”
“Early gospel music played such an important role in all of the music that we love from the early 20th century and we wanted to have this represented on our record,” said Forster. “The song may date back to the late 1800s, though I am not sure, but it is definitely the oldest tune we play.”
Rounding out the album is the Burying Ground’s take on “My Blue Heaven.”
“In the last couple years,” said Forster, “the band has been experimenting more with including early jazz songs into our repertoire and ‘My Blue Heaven’ instantly sat really well with the band. Devora’s saw playing gives it a dream-like quality, which seemed to suit the song so well and made it a fitting number to close the album with.”
In addition to A Look Back, Forster and Laye have put online for purchase the album Dire Wolves by the Dire Wolves.
“We’ve been wanting to put the album up online for awhile but, as we haven’t been a real band for some years now, it’s slipped our minds,” explained Laye. “When the quarantine time began and we had all this unexpected time on our hands, we figured it’d be a good time to get it up online. We love the album!”
The album was recorded in 2010, said Laye, but released in 2012. She, Forster, Doherty (who has been a member of the Burying Ground since the beginning) and Blake Bamford (lead vocals, guitar) comprised the group.
“Those boys played music together pre-Dire Wolves, in a group called the Whiskey Jacks (2004- 2007). I sat in on washboard for a handful of Whiskey Jacks gigs!” said Laye. “We also played with Joseph Lubinsky-Mast, who has become one of Vancouver’s finest and most in-demand upright bass players; he toured and recorded with the Burying Ground until the end of 2018. We’ve all been friends for a long time and, back then, we didn’t really know anyone else playing traditional styles of folk (blues, stringband) music.
“When Blake Bamford, aka Big Fancy, moved up north to a rural farm in Fort Fraser, B.C., the Dire Wolves split ways,” she said. “Woody and I were left without a band, without a guitar player and lead singer and wanted to continue playing music in a similar vein. That’s when he started learning guitar – and it became his main instrument. I got more serious about percussion and I started to sing (in public)!” Thus, the Burying Ground came into being.
While grateful for their relatively good situation, Laye admitted, “The uncertainty is tricky. Do we continue booking tours? Do we wait it out? All events have been canceled for the summertime. Will September be different? Woody and I are booked for a two-week tour (as a duo) in October. Will that happen? I would normally be contacting venues on our route to book, I haven’t. Artists are at a loss as to how to go forward…. So many venues don’t even know how they’ll make it through this.”
She concluded, “I hope we can come out of this to a better, more connected, world. A world where we take care of each other: humans, plants, animals and the planet that sustains us.
“We miss playing shows and connecting with people all over,” she said, “and really look forward to whenever it is that we can do that again.”
Pam Wolfman and Ezra Shanken talk with the JI about how Jewish Federation and our community are facing the challenges of COVID-19. (photos from JFGV)
This year’s Yom Ha’atzmaut community celebration will feature international singers, actors, chefs and politicians. And the audience will also be from around the world.
On April 29, 11 a.m. PST, the Jewish Federations of North America (JFNA) is hosting a one-hour virtual celebration for Israel’s 72nd birthday, which will be followed by other programming. With the theme of “What Israel Means to Me. What Israel Means to Us,” the hour-long event will include Matisyahu singing a medley of “One Day” with representatives from the
Jewish Agency for Israel’s Partnership2Gether communities and other Jewish leaders sharing messages of hope and celebration; actor Joshua Malina talking about Israel’s battle against COVID-19; singing brothers Ben, Henry and Jonah Platt; chefs debating the merits of falafel and cookbook author Adeena Sussman teaching how to make it; Isaac Herzog sharing a story about Israel’s War of Independence and paying tribute to former Israeli president David Ben-Gurion; footage of Israel’s official Independence Day Ceremony on Mt. Herzl and a message from Israeli President Reuven Rivlin; and the singing of Hatikvah.
Normally, of course, our community would be marking the occasion locally, but COVID-19 changed all of that.
“The Yom Ha’atzmaut event is complex to organize, from the standpoint of searching for the artists who will perform, fundraising and marketing, and other logistics. We usually start planning the event almost as soon as the day after the prior year’s celebration, so there was a lot of work to un-do,” Pam Wolfman, chair of the local Yom Ha’atzmaut committee, told the Independent. “Everyone involved in our event planning has been extremely supportive, and we were able to cancel our event without any significant financial penalty.
“If there is a silver lining to be found, it is the opportunity to be able to join together with JFNA and Jewish communities from all over the world to celebrate ‘with’ Israel. It’s definitely something to look forward to!”
Thanking If’at Eilon-Heiber, Jewish Federation’s director of overseas and Israel affairs, and the whole Federation team, Wolfman said, “I also want to express my gratitude to our Yom Ha’atzmaut sponsors, donors, community partners and those who purchased tickets before the event was changed for all their support.”
For Wolfman, the annual event is important for several reasons.
“I’ve always felt so grateful to live in Vancouver, in large part because we have such a vibrant and diverse Jewish community,” she said. “Jewish Federation’s annual Yom Ha’atzmaut event allows everyone in our community to come together to celebrate and unite around Israel – the beautiful country, her people, the wonderful music and culture – and to simply have an evening of fun!
“When it became clear that we would have to cancel our original plans due to COVID-19, it was very disappointing for all of us on the Yom Ha’atzmaut committee and Jewish Federation staff. And we all felt strongly that it was vital to continue this cherished tradition for our community. Joining Jewish Federation of North America’s online event was a great solution.”
“Our community is experiencing tremendous upheaval and, at the same time, we have seen signs that we are more resilient and connected than ever,” Ezra Shanken, chief executive officer of the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver, told the Independent about the current situation.
“Our community organizations have been hit very hard – the challenges they are experiencing are unprecedented. Nearly all of them were forced to close their physical doors, and they remain closed for the foreseeable future,” he said. “Many of them have lost their sources of revenue, be it rental or programming income, or from having to cancel scheduled fundraising events. And, many of the people they serve have increased needs during this crisis and are turning to the Jewish Family Services Community Care Hotline for assistance.
“It is heartening to see how swiftly and effectively many of our community organizations have pivoted,” he said. “The day schools have transitioned quickly to online learning, while the JCC, synagogues and other organizations have introduced a wide variety of online programs and services. Young adults have stepped up to volunteer to help seniors.
“Our advocacy agent, the Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs, is working with all levels of government to secure support for nonprofit organizations, and has played a major role in achieving success on that front – not just for the nonprofits in our community, but for nonprofits across Canada.”
Jewish Federation is monitoring the community’s health and the impacts of COVID-19, said Shanken. “We are in constant contact with our partner agencies, and responded quickly to address urgent increased community needs by releasing more than $500,000 in targeted emergency funding to see them through the first 30 days of impact. We know that this is but a first step, and that more vital financial, operational and emotional support will be needed. We’ll continue to work closely with our community agencies and organizations to assess their needs, identify opportunities for collaboration, and determine where best to focus our short- and long-term support for the greatest impact.
“I see the strength of our community every day,” he added. “While there are many challenges to overcome, if we continue to stick together and care for each other, I believe we will emerge from this crisis stronger than ever. Ultimately, it’s up to all of us to define where our community will be.”
Shanken has joined various efforts on the ground, helping deliver seder meals with Lubavitch BC, for example.
“Anytime we are able to bring warmth and connection into people’s lives is extremely valuable, especially at times like these,” he said. “Delivering food and medicines, calling people to see how they are holding up – these points of connection can make an incredible difference in someone’s life.
“The COVID crisis, while extremely challenging in so many ways, has prompted many of us to pause to check in with loved ones, friends, colleagues or someone we might know in the community, to get back to basics and remember what is truly important. The tremendous outpouring of support that I have witnessed on so many levels has been inspiring, and a shining example of klal Israel.”
Jewish Federation has a COVID-19 resources page on its website, jewishvancouver.com, which will “help community members easily find information about the many programs and services that are available through community organizations and government agencies,” said Shanken. “We’ll continue to provide the community leadership, planning and crucial planning assistance that our community relies on, as we navigate this pandemic together. It’s what we’re here for.”
He stressed, “Even though we are all physically apart, it is easier and more important than ever to connect.”
As for our local annual Yom Ha’atzmaut celebration, Shanken said it “has always been a special opportunity to bring our community together and show our support for Israel. We are reminded daily that Israel is also in a time of crisis. This year, with our participation in JFNA’s virtual celebration, it will be even easier for people to take part in the event. Every year, we think about other Jewish communities that are also celebrating Israel’s independence. This year, we can literally celebrate with them, in real time. It will be a great show of solidarity at a time when we especially value connection.”
In addition to the Yom Ha’atzmaut celebration, this year’s commemoration of Yom Hazikaron will also take place online. “As bereaved families live with their loss daily, we gather once a year to recognize their grief and pain, and to give them a communal hug,” said Geoffrey Druker, chair of Jewish Federation’s Yom Hazikaron committee, in a release.
From April 26 to 28, community members will be able to light virtual candles for fallen soldiers and victims of terrorism, and there will be a remembrance ceremony on Zoom on April 27, 7:30 p.m., which will include poems, readings, songs and a moment of silence. To be a part of the gathering, register at jewishvancouver.com/yhk2020.
I hope this letter finds you well, and that you are finding ways to cope with the new reality that COVID-19 has brought on all of us so suddenly. I’ll admit to moments of struggle in maintaining a positive outlook but, mostly, I am determined that, together, we will get through this crisis and return to some variation of normalcy.
For more than 20 years, I have owned and published the Jewish Independent, which started its life as the Jewish Western Bulletin in 1930. For nine decades, the paper has recorded our community’s stories, as well as news and commentary about the wider world. We have reported on the ordinary and the extraordinary, fleeting trends and paradigm shifts. We have covered happy and sad occasions, and promoted the work and activities of countless individuals and organizations. Past issues of the paper comprise a distinctive archive of our community in this place over time.
I am determined to continue this vital calling. Ensuring continuity and the thriving of Jewish life here in Canada and worldwide is no less urgent or relevant than it was in 1930. These are difficult times for many people, organizations and businesses and, among the many closures in recent days, the Canadian Jewish News ceased publication and Winnipeg’s Jewish Post & News suspended its print version indefinitely.
I firmly believe that the Jewish Independent is one of our community’s invaluable resources and that we have an important role to play during the pandemic, both in keeping the community up to date on one another’s events, initiatives and well-being, as well as offering some respite from the at-times overwhelming bad news.
For years, this publication has been a labour of love for me and a dedicated staff of a few employees and a cadre of freelance writers. As we face the coming weeks or months of increasingly dismal advertising revenues, I am making an unprecedented appeal for support from you, our readers.
I am proud to produce independent Jewish journalism that has been recognized internationally by scores of awards and accolades. I am proud that, on a very modest budget, we have managed to produce a regular publication that informs, inspires, engages, exasperates, amuses, entertains, provokes and reflects in ways that unite Jewish British Columbians across all religious, cultural, political and social divides.
You subscribe to this paper or pick it up for free at a local depot, I hope, because you see the value in this, which is why I am asking for your help through this deeply challenging time. Please consider supporting the paper through one or more of the following actions:
Renew your subscription – or start subscribing. When you receive your annual subscription notice, please renew as quickly as you are able, as the fewer reminder notices I have to mail, the less expensive the process. If you pick up the JI at one of our many depots, please seriously think about subscribing or donating to help fund the creation, printing and distribution of the paper you now hold in your hands.
Consider an esubscription instead of a traditional subscription. You’ll still receive the full contents of the paper, just in digital form. It saves you money and it’s more economical for us, too. (However, if you still like to hold the paper in your hands and pass it around the house, please continue to get the print edition!)
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Make a donation. This is the easiest and most immediate way you can help. It’s true, we’re not a charity. I can’t give you a tax receipt. But, as I’ve said, this has been a labour of love for a small group of dedicated individuals. We need you now more than ever.
On behalf of the staff and freelancers of the Jewish Independent, thank you to everyone who has reached out and helped the JI over the years, including recent weeks, and to all of you for taking the time to consider these words. Please stay safe and healthy.
Vancouver singer-songwriter Haley K. Turner will release her first full-length album on May 29.
“I have gone back and forth questioning whether now is the right time to release a new album,” she told the Independent. “But here’s the thing. Long before our lives were turned upside down, I titled my album in from the dark and, if right now is not the time to bring each other back in from the dark, I don’t know when is. This record was written with the intention of leaving people feeling a little more understood and a little less alone, myself included. So, while it feels like I am taking a huge leap of faith, releasing it while people may be too overwhelmed to notice, it also feels like I don’t have much of a choice. We don’t know what the future holds, and I happen to be fortunate to have completed the recording back in January. I want to share it with anyone who might find it comforting right now.”
A couple of singles from the album will be released earlier in May. Notably, “Loved You Perfectly” will come out May 8 for Mother’s Day that weekend. For the song video, Turner asked people to send in a short recording about their mom.
“Being privy to the sweet messages people have sent in for their moms is such a wonderful feeling,” she said. “I’m pretty sentimental, and it’s more of the thought about the moms’ reactions than the video itself that gives me little heart flutters.
“‘Loved You Perfectly,’” she explained, “is a song about motherhood, or at least my experience with it. With all the doubts and worries and mistakes, there is just as much love and growth and connection. I know I can’t be the only one who feels like I mess up all the time. And this song is my way of acknowledging that we can’t get it all right all of the time, but, even though we aren’t perfect, we love our kids perfectly. It felt like a good song to release around Mother’s Day.”
Speaking of motherhood, the Independent last spoke with Turner when she entered that phase of her life. “I went into labour with my son at 4:45 a.m. the same morning you interviewed me [by email] for my debut EP,” she said. “A couple years later, my daughter was born.” Her son is now 8, her daughter, almost 6. (For the article about the EP Ready or Not, see jewishindependent.ca/oldsite/archives/april12/archives12april06-29.html.)
“Making music and writing has always been a part of how I process emotions,” said Turner. “If I am not writing, I am usually bubbling up inside with some uncomfortable feeling and that never ends well. While it took me awhile to pick up the guitar and really get back into preparing for an album after starting a family, I was always writing in my head, even if it never made it onto a piece of paper.”
Having kids has changed her approach to life. “Well, I have a deeper admiration for my own mom now,” she said. “Yes, Mom, you! I have a greater understanding of the complexity of a mother and child relationship. I have spent the last couple of years processing who I was before kids and who I am now (hint, I’m still figuring that out) but, while a lot has changed, the really neat thing I have discovered is that, when it comes to making art, my intentions are still pretty much the same. Having little ones reinforced my ideas about media and made me more determined to create content that, hopefully, leaves this world better and not more wounded.”
The album in from the dark is more edgy than the EP Ready or Not. Last fall on Facebook, Turner posted what she described as a more cheery song than she had in awhile, but “Hey You” didn’t make the cut to the album.
“In order for me to commit to recording a song, I need to feel really connected to it,” she explained. “When I am writing, I often get emotional during the beginning of the songwriting process and that’s how I know it’s something I can stand behind. The lyrics mean everything to me, and it’s something I spend a ridiculous amount of time agonizing over.
“If I could have, I would have made a 20-song record because I have so many more songs I wish I could have included…. This album was about artistic exploration for me and testing out a few new sounds, stepping out of my comfort zone and letting my curiosity be the driving force even when my self-doubt wanted to weigh in. ‘Hey You’ felt like it would fit better on a different album, perhaps a future collection of songs for my kids, as a way to share with them all the emotions that come with parenting, along with my hope for them in this world. It felt comfortable to sing and play and I wanted to choose things that felt a bit more unsafe.
“Also,” she added, “in this recording process, my producer, Tom Dobrzanski, listened to all my demos and we chose songs that we both connected to. I believe that people have to be into what they are working on or it will be forced. So, we selected songs that felt right to both of us.”
In addition to Dobrzanski – who has worked with Said the Whale, and who used to be in the Zolas as a musician – on keyboards, Turner worked with several other notable musicians on in from the dark: Marcus Ambramzik, bass (the Belle Game, the Matinee); Brian Chan, cello (Jordan Klassen, Heis, Zaac Pick); Niko Friesen, drums (Hannah Georgas, Jane Siberry); Stephanie Chatman, violin; Julien Amar, piano on “For the Win”; and Adrian Glynn, vocals (solo artist as well as his band, the Fugitives). Turner is the lead singer and plays the acoustic guitar.
“I am beyond lucky to have had so many wonderful humans on this project,” said Turner, who reached out to Glynn a couple of years ago at an open mic.
“At the time,” she said, “I didn’t have any actual plans in the works to record, but I asked him if he would be up for singing on a song in the future. I have always loved male and female vocals together and it was on my bucket list.”
Through Glynn, she connected to Dobrzanski, who owns Monarch Studios, and, she said, “before I was even ready, I had committed to making an album!” She credits Dobrzanski for bringing “in an amazing team of Vancouver-based musicians who he had worked with before.”
Most of songs on in from the dark were written over the past few years, “and some even within the weeks leading up to recording,” said Turner. “‘Better’ is an older one of mine and it surprises me how relevant it still is. ‘Better’ is my way of processing how deeply women are affected by the expectations we have of them, specifically in our appearances. It’s about how we show up for each other, and expresses my desire to help create a world where we aren’t so hard on each other and hard on ourselves. I wrote it in my early 20s, before kids, and I am furious that it feels like it is taking forever to make these positive shifts.
“I have a background in TV and film and the constant critiques on my image and weight were damaging to say the least,” she explained. “When I released my debut EP, I had just stepped back from pursuing my career in acting because I wanted to be in creative control of the image and content I was putting out. I was so upset that I couldn’t do that as a 20-year-old actress – that it was always about looks and physique and never about my work – and so I decided to rebel by not putting my face on my album. I didn’t want that to weigh into whether people listened or not.”
Of all the songs on the album, Turner said, “‘Stay With Me (Jacob’s Song)’ holds a special place in my heart. It is dedicated to someone I loved dearly who passed away unexpectedly at the age of 8. It was the hardest song to record on the album because its essence is out of my control. I don’t think it will ever be good enough in my eyes, but I sure tried. I know that talking about people who are no longer here often brings pain and sadness to the surface. It was my hope to make a song that created space to honour and reflect and remember.”
Amid the pandemic, Turner is trying “to stay hopeful and focus on the blessings that will come out of this,” she said. “I’m processing the experiences slowly and watching for the creation and innovation that will help us heal.
“Prior to COVID-19, I was trying to engage in conversations with people, many of whom were women, about isolation, although I wasn’t phrasing it like that. Motherhood can be terribly isolating – beautiful and wondrous and lonely. Pretty much anyone anywhere can feel alone even with people swarming around them. I have been mulling over that thought for quite some time, so I ask myself, what’s different now?
“What’s different is that almost everyone is experiencing it in some form now, and perhaps it won’t be so hard to talk about it after things settle and people are able to integrate themselves back into their communities. I don’t think this feeling of isolation is new, I just think there is less to distract us right now. I really believe that, if we can be more transparent as humans, we will feel more connected. So, that’s what keeps me positive, I guess. If we felt alone before all these unexpected changes, the blessing is that we will come out with a stronger sense of what was missing and how to fulfil that for ourselves and others.”
She added, “I also have a greater appreciation for those who have shown up and worked hard to bring people together, like our teachers and artists everywhere and people in all types of service industries. Sometimes you don’t realize how much you rely on someone or something until it’s not accessible anymore. I have a better understanding of the different skill sets people have, and how I value them will be forever changed.”
For more information on Turner and her music, visit her website, haleykturner.com.
