Olga Livshin

Photography and glass

Wes Bell’s photography and Hope Forstenzer’s sculptures are on display at the Zack Gallery until May 18. (photo by Sarah Dobbs)

The current exhibition at the Zack Gallery is actually two separate shows: Wes Bell’s series of black and white photographs, called Snag, which is part of the Capture Photography Festival, and Hope Forstenzer’s glass sculptures, called If Not Now, When?

The connection between the artists’ works is not immediately obvious.

“I was initially drawn to the idea of colour and black and white and the impact that would have on the visitors to the gallery,” curator Sarah Dobbs explained. “Both Wes Bell and Hope Forstenzer use everyday materials and imagery to explore complex emotional experiences, transforming the ordinary into something deeply symbolic. Their works consider ideas of vulnerability and change, whether through Bell’s weathered landscapes of loss or Forstenzer’s delicate glass forms that capture fleeting human feelings. Together, they create a dialogue about presence, inviting people to consider the fragility and urgency of being alive.”

Bell hasn’t always photographed in black and white. After he graduated from the Alberta College of Art in 1980, he worked as a fashion photographer, first in Milan, then in New York. “I was well known for my colours and my attention to details when I was in fashion,” he said. “I was published in many prestigious magazines, but I burned out after awhile. The commercial freelance roller-coaster hollowed me out.”

In 2008, the global financial crisis was the final straw. He fell into depression. “I felt that my life had too much colour,” he said. “I needed to simplify, but I didn’t know what my new direction should be.”

He went back to school. “I took classes in the history of photography and history of cinema, among others,” he said.

Bell returned to Alberta to say goodbye to his mother, who was dying of cancer. “As I drove back to the airport, my attention drifted to the roadside, to the flapping remnants of plastic bags snagged in barbed-wire fences running alongside the highway,” he recalled. “Mile after mile, the fences lining the ditches were embellished with forgotten shreds of plastic, whipped by the wind. They might’ve been blown off trucks or thrown away out of cars. Frayed, lacerated and punctured, they drew me in. There was melancholy there that resonated, like souls of the people we lost or wings of some fantastic creatures. I stopped the car and took photos.”

He uploaded the photos to his computer and converted them to black and white, to reflect his sadness. “Seven weeks later, Mom passed away. It is in remembrance of her that these images first came to life,” he said.

Bell returned to those ditches and fences. “I came there for three years, from 2015 to 2017, to photograph those bags fluttering in the wind. I photographed 68 different sites, always during the transitional season from winter to spring, when everything appeared dead, when no green vegetation, foliage or flowers distracted from the forms. Every time I took photos, I removed the bags from the barbed wire and put them in the closest garbage bins. I tried to take care of the environment.”

photo - "Snag - 11th Avenue NE, Medicine Hat, AB, Canada, 2015," a photograph by Wes Bell. — “Snag – 11th Avenue NE, Medicine Hat, AB, Canada, 2015,” a photograph by Wes Bell.

For Bell, these images symbolize his grief over the loss of both his parents. His father passed away just a few weeks before the show opened.

“This show for me is about loss and memory, about the universality of grief, not just for my parents but for everyone who dies. There is so much death in the world right now, so much oppression,” he said. “And mourning and funerals in many cultures around the world are often associated with black. That’s why I decided to go with the black and white approach. My original, coloured pictures don’t have the same impact.”

In contrast, Forstenzer’s sculptures are infused with colour. Only one sculpture is white – “Spine.” Every vertebra of that twisty glass spine is inscribed with a negative emotion: despair, trapped, brittle, inferior, inadequate, doomed. The little sculpture inspires profound sadness.

“It is about my sister’s spine,” said Forstenzer. “She has severe scoliosis. She has been grappling with many health issues for years, and this unnaturally curved spine is symbolic of her problems.”

Forstenzer’s road to glass artistry was somewhat convoluted.

“My background is in graphic design, photography and film. I’ve been writing stories since childhood, but I always wanted to have a visual aspect for my stories, too,” she said. “For years, I was the artistic director of a multimedia company in New York. We worked on short avant-garde plays: mine as well as ones written by others. We produced them around New York. It was an amazing job, very interesting and successful, but it didn’t pay the bills.”

For that, she worked as a graphic designer. She also taught graphic design, first in the United States – New York, Seattle, Baltimore – and, later, in Vancouver, after her wife accepted a job at BC Children’s Hospital in 2012 and the family moved here. Forstenzer taught at Emily Carr and Simon Fraser.

After years of working hard but being unable to make a living with art, Forstenzer was burned out. “There is no system to support artists in America,” she said. “We all need a day job to survive. Or a spouse with a paying job, if we are lucky. I’m one of the lucky ones.”

Forstenzer started looking for a new direction.

“I lived down the street from Urban Glass Studio in Brooklyn. I took a class from them and paid in kind with my graphic designer services. I was 30 years old and I fell in love with glass. I knew it was the medium for me, the way to express myself, to tell my stories. In theatre, in painting, in photography, the artist provides the focus, and his audience accepts it. But with glass, my story might be totally different from the one my viewers see. Everyone sees glass through their own life experience, supplies their own interpretation.”

At first, glass art was a hobby.

“I wanted more glass classes – there is so much to learn,” she said. “We moved to Seattle. I took more glass classes and always negotiated to pay with my designer skills for the studio time.”

photo - "Omen 2" by Hope Forstenzer — “Omen 2” by Hope Forstenzer. *(photo by Olga Livshin)*

After moving to Vancouver, glass became her full-time artistic practice, and she joined the Terminal City Glass Co-op.

“When Sarah [Dobbs] asked me if I would like to share the show with Wes Bell, I agreed. I thought it would be a nice contrast. Wes’s photos are all about grief and desolation. I find my place in between grief and optimism. The world is a mess right now, but I want to believe that we can pull through if we act now. That’s why I called my part of the show ‘If Not Now, When?’” said Forstenzer. The famous saying is attributed to first-century BCE sage Hillel the Elder.

Two sculptures of wings attract the attention of everyone who enters the gallery. Both are parts of Forstenzer’s series Dream of Flight. “I made 12 sets, all belonging to different winged creatures, for a show in 2021,” she said. “You know, every human religion, every system of spiritual belief, uses wings or winged creatures in some way.”

Another memorable work is “Mourners.” Four small glass figurines, abstract depictions of people in mourning, occupy a stand in the middle of the gallery. Their bright, intertwined, yellow-and-blue hues shine against the black and white of Bell’s photographs.

“I don’t think grief is always dark or colourless,” said Forstenzer. “When my mom died, I grieved, but I also remembered her beautiful heart and the colours she brought into my life. Death doesn’t remove the colours of our memories. I think it is a different aspect of grief, just as there are different ways to tell the same story.”

The two shows run until May 18.

Olga Livshin is a Vancouver freelance writer. She can be reached at [email protected].

Art dismantles systems

“I Betrayed Him and the Fate of Becoming Him” by Yongzhen Li is part of Li’s solo exhibit – Structures of the Unsaid – at the Zack Gallery. (photo from Yongzhen Li)

On March 5, the Zack Gallery opened its first solo exhibition by a non-Jewish artist in years. Called Structures of the Unsaid, it presents the work of Yongzhen Li, a recent immigrant from China. By coincidence, it is also Li’s first solo show, and the show’s name reflects the artist’s feelings about his native China’s patriarchal culture and collectivist society.

“The art committee and I asked Li to be part of the Zack Gallery exhibitions over a year ago,” said Sarah Dobbs, the gallery’s curator.

“His talent, the way he handles the surface of the paper and the themes that we felt resonate with the Jewish community were the primary reasons for selecting him for a solo show,” she said. “The way he works – using ink, rice paper and mugwort water, which stains the surface before the image appears – reflects his deep skills as an artist. This was the primary pull for us to exhibit him. In addition, the water residue acts as a form of embodied memory, recalling the imperative to remember – the surface carries what cannot be seen.

“His practice emerges from absence, where the creation of each piece is a gesture of repair within fracture, like a quiet form of tikkun, a concept found in the Zohar,” she explained. “Painting is how he wrestles, remembers and remakes meaning. So, the conceptual nature of his work, combined with his skills, was a no-brainer. The committee and I just immediately voted him yes!”

Li and his wife, Jiamin, came to Canada in 2024, settling in Oshawa, Ont.

“I like the food here – so many Asian groceries,” he said with a smile. “But language is hard for me. It’s always been so, even before we came here. Language has always felt too thin. The words seem to flatten what I feel, while images allow it to remain alive.” That’s why he asked his wife to act as his interpreter during his interview with the Independent.

Li’s road to the arts was not simple.

“My father is a petroleum worker,” he said. “And so was his father before him. It is traditional in China that a son follows his father’s work. It is a good job, with a decent pay, and it was already arranged for me after I graduated, but I didn’t want to do it. I always felt like an outsider in my family. I didn’t want to know my future for the next 50 years. I knew it wouldn’t make me happy. I wanted to do art. I wanted to be free in my choices.”

That was his first rebellion, his first step against the established routine, but not his last.

“I was about 13 at the time…. By Chinese tradition, children of artists who follow their fathers into art start their artistic training at 6. I was already too old, but I needed to do it. Otherwise, I felt that I had nothing of my own. Fortunately, I had a good art teacher at school,” said Li, adding with a grin: “And I became popular with my classmates.”

photo - “Underground World” by Yongzhen Li, whose solo exhibit at Zack Gallery runs to April 13 — “Underground World” by Yongzhen Li, whose solo exhibit at Zack Gallery runs to April 13. *(image from Yongzhen Li)*

His next step upon graduation was the Academy of Fine Art in Xi’an, one of the largest cities in China, with an ancient history and a long artistic tradition. The famous Terracotta Army, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, is located just outside the city. The Xi’an academy is considered one of the best art schools in China, but Li didn’t like his time there.

“There was no creative freedom,” he said. “The professors were rigid, wanted me to copy them, to follow their instructions without thinking. It didn’t work for me.”

Once more, Li went against the established mode. He quit the academy and found a job to support himself and his wife. He worked with social media while teaching himself to be an artist.

“People thought I was crazy to quit,” he said. “My parents wouldn’t help financially – they didn’t approve of my actions. Besides, they were getting a divorce. And I was already married – we met at the academy. Jiamin was also a student there.”

When COVID struck, the young couple experienced the restrictions that were placed on people worldwide.

“We became all isolated, had to stay at home,” Li recalled. “But we watched lots on the internet, especially YouTube videos. In China, the world internet is not available – it is illegal there to access YouTube or Google or Facebook. Chinese people have their own limited internet version, allowed by the government, but many young people ignore those restrictions and download apps to watch the real internet. We did too and we learned a lot. We could finally see for ourselves how the world worked. We decided to emigrate to Canada.”

Canada was a revelation to Li. “I’m free here,” he said.

To make ends meet, Li works for a delivery company, but, in his spare time, he continues to paint and learn, and his art evolves. When he lived in China, his themes tended to be narrow, tied to certain events or ideas, but his latest imagery explores more complex issues of identity, memory and resistance.

“Art has become my emotional refuge as well as a method of self-liberation,” he said.

It also allows him to process his inner tension and vulnerability, as he struggles for personal and creative autonomy. His large painting “Underground World,” finished in the past month, is symbolic of his current trend of using traditional Chinese motifs and media to address contemporary and universal topics.

The painting looks like a collage, denoting the artist’s inner journey; many aspects intertwine and contradict one another. Family history versus personal fragility. Government direction versus private uncertainty.

“I am not searching for villains. I am dismantling systems,” Li says in his artist statement. “I refer to structures that appear normal: family control, humiliation disguised as education, and forms of care that carry hidden violence. Tragedy most often happens not through cruelty, but through what is socially justified, well-intentioned and unquestioned.”

As for his life in Canada, Li said, “I’m thinking of taking some art classes here. There is so much choice, so much freedom for an artist.”

Structures of the Unsaid is on display until April 13. To learn more about Li, visit his website, yongzhenli.com.

Olga Livshin is a Vancouver freelance writer. She can be reached at [email protected].

Tapping into their creativity

Sidi Schaffer (standing) has been leading an art class at the Weinberg Residence since last October. (photo by Vanessa Trester)

Sidi Schaffer, a well-known Vancouver artist and art teacher, moved to the Weinberg Residence last August. “My husband passed away in June, and I didn’t want to be alone in our big house,” she told the Independent. “Here, I’m not alone.”

No matter where she lives, Schaffer is an artist at heart, and her art always finds an outlet. In this case, it is a class for Weinberg residents.

“I approached Vanessa [Trester, manager of the Weinberg Residence], and suggested I start an art class,” Schaffer said. “I’ve been an art teacher for decades. I have so much to share with my students.”

Trester agreed with the suggestion and Schaffer’s sessions started last October.

“The official name of the class is Fun Exploring Art with Sidi Schaffer,” said Trester. “Besides the opportunity to learn about art and artists, the students can tap into their creativity with Sidi’s direction. The class provides the residents with joy, lifts their spirits, and brings connectivity through their shared stories.”

Participation in the Monday classes fluctuates between eight and 12 people. “Not everyone can come all the time,” said Schaffer. “The residents here are not young. Someone has a headache or a doctor’s appointment, or their family is visiting. But people come when they can. We put on classical music in the background. I bring some art supplies – I have a lot of brushes and paper and paints – plus what Vanessa bought, and we have fun. As long as my students are happy, I’m happy.”

Her class makes many attendees happy. One of them, Helen Sankoff, told the Independent: “I don’t have any prior experience creating art, but I used to knit, do needlepoint and make jewelry as a hobby. Now, I attend Sidi’s class because she is a wonderful artist and teacher. She introduces us to many different artists and ways of painting, and I find her art class very relaxing. We have classical music playing in the background, and it’s my favourite time of the week.”

As an experienced teacher, Schaffer doesn’t set impossible goals for herself or her students. “I’m not trying to teach them deep painting techniques,” she said. “They don’t have to create masterpieces. I’m trying to show them how to express themselves through artistic means. Creating art is not a focus in this class, it is a side benefit. The focus is to enjoy it.”

She enjoys it too and uses famous artists and art history as inspiration. Her artistic education is extensive: first in her native Romania, then in Israel and, finally, in Canada. She has lived, studied and worked in all three countries.

Schaffer shares her love for various art movements with her students.

“We started with Van Gogh. I brought Van Gogh’s reproductions to the class, and some sunflowers,” she said. “First, I told them about Van Gogh, his life and his art. Then, I set up the sunflowers and the students painted them.”

From Van Gogh, she proceeded to Paul Cézanne. “He painted landscapes and still life, and I brought apples to the class to paint,” said Schaffer.

One class was an introduction to Claude Monet and his waterlilies. “I had some photos, and some of the students saw those paintings when they visited Paris years ago,” she shared.

After French impressionists, Schaffer decided it was time for Canadian art, particularly the Group of Seven. But, she started with Ted Harrison and his Northern Lights, bringing in his books. She had her students imitate his style.

“I want us to have a field trip to the Vancouver Art Gallery, to see Emily Carr’s paintings. It will probably happen as soon as we have some volunteers available,” she said.

In the meantime, Schaffer has switched to Australian aboriginal art, where every image is comprised of dots. “It is amazing what can be done in this technique,” she said. “It is very suitable to my students, an easy technique, as each one of them is over 80 years old. Some suffer from arthritis and have trouble holding a brush.”

One participant’s paintings “are similar to each other, no matter which artist I tell them about,” said Schaffer, but they enjoy the class, “and that is the most important outcome.”

Schaffer’s classes are eclectic, covering a variety of styles, materials and methods. In one class, she concentrated on First Nations artist Daphne Odjig. Another time, she talked about avant-garde artist Georgia O’Keeffe. She has focused on the importance of perspective in painting.

“I want to have a class about painting body and face. I want to buy some clay for a sculpture class and we’ll have a mask-painting class for Purim,” she said before the holiday. “I push my students not to be realistic – to express their inner world, not copy the street outside. Art should be playful.”

One of her favourite techniques is collage that uses dry flowers and leaves. “They are so beautiful, so transparent, like visual poetry,” said Schaffer, who has albums of material. “I’ve always wanted to preserve their beauty, have done it since childhood. The designs on each leaf are unique. Some of them remind me of a place or a time.”

Schaffer has “no end of ideas for new classes.”

“Other artists – Chagall, Picasso – and other techniques,” she said. “I want to get some old magazines and art books to cut for collages. Perhaps the Waldman Library has some for sale. We’ll have fun in that class.”

Olga Livshin is a Vancouver freelance writer. She can be reached at [email protected].

Different concepts of home

The current show at the Zack Gallery – Finding Home – unites three very different artists: Jeannette Bittman, Andrea Dillingham-Lacoursiere and Eri Ishii. Sarah Dobbs, the gallery curator, told the Independent how the show came together.

“All three artists submitted independent proposals for solo exhibitions,” said Dobbs, adding that, in their own unique way, all three artists “engaged the ideas of place, displacement, immigration and the evolving notion of home.… Their works differ significantly in style and approach, but their practices intersect conceptually. Andrea’s work is rooted in a specific geographic place. Eri’s practice explores internal and emotional landscapes. Jeannette’s work centres on the table as a focal point of Jewish life and tradition, and as a site that reflects the dynamics, rituals and emotional complexities of gathering. Together, their works expand and complicate the idea of home, from the physical to the psychological and to the communal.”

photo - “At Work” by Jeannette Bittman — “At Work” by Jeannette Bittman. *(photo by Olga Livshin)*

Bittman’s images are all domestic scenes. People, young and old, gather around a table, eating and chatting. The colours are muted, the faces indistinct, less important. The table and the food are the points of connection, the common joy and purpose.

“A table is of great significance in everyone’s life,” Bittman told the JI. “It is the place where we eat, but, maybe more importantly, where we meet others and ourselves. The table and gathering around it are critical to Jewish life and culture. Family meals are crucial for family and child growth. Gathering with friends often occurs around a table. Self-reflection, recollection and reminiscence, as well as dreams, occur around a table.” For her, a table is the essence of home.

photo - Jeannette Bittman — Jeannette Bittman (photo courtesy)

“As an artist, I’m intrigued by human emotions and want to represent them through my art,” she said. “Initially, I focus on the realistic expressions of the models. Then, I explore, using colour, shade and form to go deeper. I try to capture the feeling rather than reality … I search for the mood. I rarely have a finished product in mind and become fascinated with the multitude of possibilities. It’s often challenging for me to stop at one.”

Ishii, meanwhile, ponders the outdoors in her paintings. A girl is running along a forest trail in “Runner.” Three girls are gazing across a river in “Three.” A young woman contemplates a peaceful pond in “Bridge,” while dappled sunlight plays all around her, and water ripples beneath the pilings of a little bridge.

All of Ishii’s images are quiet and introspective, uplifting in their tranquil greenery. One could almost hear the breeze whispering in the boughs and the wavelets muttering at the shore. “I am essentially a figurative painter,” said the artist. “My main interest is the inner world of my figures. I want to create works that have emotional resonance.”

For Ishii, home is a complex concept, an inner rapport rather than a particular geographic region. “To me, home means belonging, community and a sense of identity. As an immigrant, I have experienced that these things are fluid and shifting. I have two homes: the place where I spent my formative years – Japan – and the place where I chose to build my life – Canada.”

photo - “Runner” by Eri Ishii — “Runner” by Eri Ishii. *(photo by Olga Livshin)*

About her pieces in the Zack show, she said, “I made them at different points of my life. ‘Bridge’ and ‘Three’ are parts of a series that explores storytelling in paintings. They were inspired by film stills from a British mystery. ‘Runner’ and ‘Picnic’ are made more recently. ‘Runner’ revisits the running series from 20 years ago. The series investigated the transient nature of life and posed questions concerning where we are running to, as well as what we are running from. ‘Picnic’ is the most recent of my works. It explores family relationships. It was inspired by a photo I saw in a recipe book that showed a family enjoying a feast.”

photo - Eri Ishii — Eri Ishii *(photo courtesy)*

Like many artists, Ishii is fond of mentoring others. “Teaching is rewarding in more external ways, as opposed to painting,” she said. “I love being part of people’s journeys, as they tackle challenges of making paintings. It is my way of giving back what I learnt, whereas painting is more internal, as I try to explore what is going on inside of me.”

Ishii’s creative explorations could happen anywhere in the world. “I deliberately made them non-specific,” she said. “I wanted to keep them open to viewers’ imagination.”

Dillingham-Lacoursiere, on the other hand, dedicates her landscapes to one very specific location: Lasqueti Island in the Strait of Georgia, an off-grid, ecologically conscious community, and her home. Her panoramic vistas are bright and intense. The sharp colours of land, ocean and sky echo the lines of nature and emphasize the artist’s fierce emotional link to the place. While Ishii’s paintings are murmurs of lyrical fulfilment and Bittman’s delve into the kernel of her Jewishness, Dillingham-Lacoursiere’s paintings are screams of defiance, a rebellious statement of the artist’s soul.

“I used to equate home with a soft place to land, with treasured collections and memories that serve as reminders of our lives, our ancestors,” she said. “When I moved from Alberta, I left a five-bedroom house, my family, most of my friends, a community that had taken me a lifetime to build, but it wasn’t easy [there]. Reconciling the beauty of the prairies with a mindset and values that never fit meant it was an uphill battle. I was tired of trying to make myself fit into the place I called home but had never felt like it.”

photo - “Home” by Andrea Dillingham-Lacoursiere — “Home” by Andrea Dillingham-Lacoursiere. *(photo by Olga Livshin)*

Here, in British Columbia, she said, “Now, home for me exists in small ways. It’s my favourite tree. It’s reading poetry on a Sunday morning, with coffee in my favourite mug…. I’ve worked with First Nations communities for over a decade, and it was in those circles, around those fires and in those sweat lodges, that I learned women are the keepers of the home. In that sense, I am my home, and I can offer refuge, perhaps especially to myself.”

photo - Andrea Dillingham-Lacoursiere — Andrea Dillingham-Lacoursiere *(photo courtesy)*

Dillingham-Lacoursiere has been painting landscapes for about 10 years. “I had avoided painting landscapes my whole life, until 2016. At the time, I was in the throes of a crisis of conscience, at the confluence of my job and my community,” she shared. “I had spent a year at the helm of a project that was deeply honouring the unfinished lives of the missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls of this country. The next project I was asked to lead at the museum and art gallery where I worked was the Canada 125 celebrations. The cognitive dissonance I felt pulled me in ways I could not have expected.”

Her response was artistic.

“It led me to an exhibit focused on landscapes of our national parks system. It is a system constructed to outwardly give a sense of national pride, but, at the same time, to commodify some of the most beautiful natural spaces … as escapes for those that could afford it,” she said. “That exhibit was called Reflections on My Reconciliation. People really connected with my art and my message. And it began the unravelling of what I thought it meant to be Canadian for me.”

Finding Home opened Jan. 7 and runs until Feb. 2. Every visitor will be confronted with the question, “What does home mean to you?”

Olga Livshin is a Vancouver freelance writer. She can be reached at [email protected].

Explorations of light

Into the Light – featuring the art of Gillian Richards, left, and Pilar Mehlis – is at the Zack Gallery until Jan. 5. (photo by Olga Livshin)

The current show at the Zack Gallery, Into the Light, introduces two artists: Pilar Mehlis and Gillian Richards. Both explore light and air in their paintings – though with very different approaches.

Mehlis was born in Bolivia. Her family moved to Canada when she was 12. Since then, she regularly travels between the two countries: for study or work. “I’ve lived in Vancouver since 2001, but I still visit Bolivia every year,” she told the Independent. She feels that she belongs to both cultures, the same way she belongs to art.

“I didn’t choose art as a profession,” she said. “It chose me. I always liked doing art, but, in Bolivia, art is not considered a serious profession. Not stable enough. In the beginning, I tried to deny it, found various jobs in other fields, but I couldn’t stay away from art. When I was young, I had a romantic view of the artistic life – you know, an artist in her studio. I know better now, but it is too late for me.” She smiled.

Richards is local. She studied fine art in British Columbia and Alberta, starting in high school. “After I graduated from a fine arts program, I worked for years in the film industry here, in Vancouver,” she said. “I was a scenic artist. It was a good job, with a steady income, and I learned a lot, but it wasn’t creative enough for me. I was always working on someone else’s concept. About 10 years ago, I decided to step back from film and pursue my own artistic ideas. I wanted to express myself, my vision.”

Both artists have known each other slightly for a long time, as their studios are in Parker Street Studios and both have participated in the Eastside Culture Crawl for years, but the shared exhibit is due to the efforts of Zack manager and curator Sarah Dobbs.

“Sarah brought us together,” Mehlis explained. “I applied for the show at the JCC, but I didn’t have enough new works to fill the gallery. Sarah visited several other studios in our building to find the second artist.” Richards picked up the story: “Sarah approached me with the idea of a two-artist show, and here we are.”

For Mehlis, her Latin American roots inform her paintings and sculptures. “Magic Realism is very popular in Latin America,” she said. “It fascinates me: the idea of mystical and mysterious in everyday life. My grandmother’s stories were full of magic embedded in the ordinary. And we have many street festivals in Bolivia. The performers wear colourful costumes of fantastic beasts, with only their human legs showing.”

Similarly, the birds in Mehlis’s paintings all have human legs and bright plumage. They are flying in the same direction, through the luminous light, towards goals only they know. The artist calls this series the Ornithrope Collection.

“The idea of migration of humans and animals intrigues me,” she said. “For fish and birds, there are no borders, they follow a pattern in the world. But humans – we have borders. Borders complicate things, and still people migrate. My birds are modeled on a swallow, a migratory creature. Swallows fly between North and South America every year, like me. They are my travel companions.”

image - “Riding on the Wings” by Pilar Mehlis — “Riding on the Wings” by Pilar Mehlis.

Most of her pieces were inspired by Caroline Shaw’s music, set to the words of psalms, and the titles reflect those inspirational, poetic phrases: “The sparrow found a house…” or “They pass through the valley…” or “Riding on the wings…” All the pieces are focused on fantastic, anthropomorphic birds: at rest or in flight. They are the protagonists of Mehlis’s stories.

Meanwhile, Richards’ paintings are of scenery, with succinct titles: “Commute,” “Ferry Deck,” “Tree Fort.”

“Urban spaces always interested me,” she said. “We pass them. We touch them. We change them. I take lots of photos when I walk around, and my photos often serve as a base for my paintings, something I want to explore, a starting point. Light and shadows create a mood, an atmosphere. That’s why there are no people in my paintings. People change the mood, but I don’t know who they are. As it is, the viewers are the participants. They can walk into my paintings and make up their own stories.”

Light suffuses Richards’ cityscapes, be it the pink sunlight on a ferry deck, the lamplight at night on a street corner, or the yellow sunlight peeking through a tangle of boards of an abandoned tree fort. In Richards’ paintings, we are the people driving in the cars or traveling on the ferry through the lights of ocean and sky. We might have built the fort.

image - “Tree Fort” by Gillian Richards — “Tree Fort” by Gillian Richards.

“That tree fort is such an expressive structure,” she said. “I have several paintings of it. It is in that liminal space between a residential area and a forest. There is a mystery there: who built it? What for? It’s human architecture, fragile but enduring.”

Like Mehlis, Richards finds mystery.

Another similarity between the artists is that both are cautious about commissions.

“I have only one client – a poet,” Mehlis said.

“I have done some commissions,” Richards said, “but it wasn’t really for me. It resembled too much my work in film: executing someone else’s ideas.”

Mehlis and Richards represent a generation of creative people finding their way, one step at a time, between the old brick-and-mortar gallery system and the new internet marketing world.

“I don’t know how to promote myself anymore,” said Mehlis. “It used to be all galleries, but now it is all online, and I don’t understand those algorithms.”

Richards agreed: “The gallery system is in trouble now, competing with the online sales. But Eastside Culture Crawl is still going strong. Most of us make our yearly income during Culture Crawl. Hundreds of visitors come every year to our studios. It is a huge artistic event, the most democratic art sales in Vancouver. Nobody curates it. People buy what they like.… I remember in 2021, just after COVID, there were still restrictions in place of how many people could visit at a time. I looked out the window and there was a lineup of people in front of the door to our studios. It stretched out for blocks. They all wanted our art. It was very heartening.”

Into the Light opened Nov. 13 and will be up until Jan. 5. For more information, visit the artists’ websites, pilarmehlis.ca and gillianrichardsartist.com.

Olga Livshin is a Vancouver freelance writer. She can be reached at [email protected].

Raising existential questions

Yuri Elperin’s solo show, Cycles of Being, opened at the Lipont Gallery in Richmond on Nov. 15. The show consists of Elperin’s large abstract mixed media paintings of the last few years. The art is powerful, eloquent and elegant, reflecting the artist’s personal voyage across Europe, Asia and North America, but also humanity’s collective journey. Memory, history and spirituality merge and interplay.

Elperin was born in Riga, Latvia, a year after the Second World War ended. Unable to pursue his artistic goals inside the limits prescribed by the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, he emigrated in 1977. Searching for artistic freedom, he lived in Rome for about a year while waiting for his Canadian immigration papers.

“During his time in Rome, and his subsequent travels and research across Spain, France and Italy, he immersed himself in Western modern art,” notes the Lipton Gallery’s site.

In Vancouver, Elperin has had a decades-long career as a commercial photographer and in film, and he became dedicated to being a full-time artist in 1998, according to the gallery. His current show explores Eastern and Western philosophies.

Many religions and philosophical tenets of both Eastern and Western cultures throughout time are concerned with common questions: What is life? Why are we humans here? What is the purpose of life? How does everything link together? Elperin’s art contemplates possibilities, and the show’s name, Cycles of Being, underscores the cyclical nature of our unending chain of existence.

The paintings in this exhibit are three-dimensional, a fusion of paint and sculpture, golden leaf and marine plants. Paper, wood, metal and fabric combine and emerge as more than a sum of their parts.

The images tell stories, convey legends. They inspire questions and personal responses. Every title card in the gallery is a mini story, and the abstract artistic style suits the complexity of the philosophical exploration.

No reflection of the outside world manifests. No photographic likeness. Just meditations on the timeless themes of life, death and rebirth, which lead to further associations on the part of viewers.

The first painting that meets our eyes upon coming into the gallery is “Phase One” – a golden spread on the dark background. Does it reflect evolutionary theory or the world’s divine beginnings? One will interpret it according to one’s own beliefs.

photos - “Beginning of Endless Knot,” left, and “Impermanence” by Yuri Elperin, whose solo exhibition, Cycles of Being, is at the Lipont Gallery in Richmond until Dec. 4 — “Beginning of Endless Knot,” left, and “Impermanence” by Yuri Elperin, whose solo exhibition, Cycles of Being, is at the Lipont Gallery in Richmond until Dec. 4. *(photos by Ning Li)*

“Beginning of Endless Knot” continues the viewer’s journey, with its contrast of blue and gold, a simple circle versus a complex knot. In Buddhism, the endless knot represents, among other things, interconnectedness.

“Impermanence” reminds us that everything in the world is ephemeral. The red twisted shape, sinuous and enigmatic, teases with its perpetual dance. To me, it defies definition and implies that everything around us, physical and mental, is transient – the only constant is change.

On the opposite wall, the painting “Wu Zetian Dream” is a symphony in blue, a tribute to the only female ruler of China, Wu Zetian (624-705). During her reign, China became one of the greatest powers of the world. Many historians consider her the force that revitalized the Chinese culture and economy.

Many paintings in the exhibition include a circle as one of their main elements. The exhibit title piece, “Cycles of Being,” refers to the Buddhist idea that existence is an eternal sequence of birth, growth, transformation and renewal, that life and death are not linear, and that all living creatures are linked. This concept is represented by a mandala, a circular image of the universe.

Other images involving a circle are those of the five elements of wood, fire, earth, metal and water. The artist’s visualization of them incorporates what could be called the traditional colours and energies of those elements (blue for water, red for fire, for example), but go beyond literal meaning. Again, all is connected, there are no beginnings and no ends.

Readers can meet Elperin on Nov. 26, 3-5 p.m., at the gallery. The exhibit runs until Dec. 4. To learn more, visit lipontgallery.ca.

Olga Livshin is a Vancouver freelance writer. She can be reached at [email protected].

Both personal & cosmic

Eric Goldstein and Jenny Judge are different in their backgrounds and creative philosophies, in their media and techniques, but they have two characteristics in common: their images are abstract, and strings drive their artistic perceptions. (photo by Jenny Judge)

A string is a simple, utilitarian object. Usually, it connects things, but rarely is it associated with beauty. However, String Theory, the current two-artist exhibition at the Zack Gallery, definitely brings beauty to gallery patrons.

The artists participating in the show – Jenny Judge and Eric Goldstein – are different in their backgrounds and creative philosophies, in their media and techniques, but they have two characteristics in common: their images are abstract, and strings drive their artistic perceptions.

Judge has been an installation artist for decades.

“I received a BFA in sculpture and printmaking in 1983 and completed an MFA in sculpture in 1991,” she told the Independent. “I often integrate a variety of craft-based material and processes in my installations, and I have exhibited them in Canada and abroad, but I have never exhibited my drawings before this show. I’ve been drawing for a long time, but my drawings were never the focus of my art. They were for clearing my head, as was my writing, which is also essential to my practice. Both helped me understand my own concepts better. I guess it is time for my drawings to be in the foreground of a show.”

photo - Jenny Judge — Jenny Judge (photo by Mads Colvin)

Like her installations, Judge’s drawings have depth, displaying multiple layers of texture and meaning.

“The heart of these drawings is transition, the two different sides coming together, connected by lines or strings,” she explained. “Light versus dark. Old age versus youth. Northern hemisphere versus southern. Sky versus water. My family lives in Canada and New Zealand, and I’m often traveling from there to here and back. My drawings help me to make sense of these transitions.”

All her pieces in the show are a wash of muted paint in the background overlaid by a network of strings and nodes in faintly contrasting colours. The web of strings and their junctions is complex and delicate, the lines gossamer-thin, reflecting the artist’s contemplation of belonging to the emotional and physical landscape of both Canada and New Zealand.

“My drawing are like landscapes,” she said. “There is even a horizon line in most of them, the line where two different worlds meet, the areas of constant shifting and negotiations. But there is much more to the story I want to tell. That’s why I paint in the abstract style. A simple landscape is just that – a landscape, a forest or a mountain. But an abstract picture always leaves room for interpretation. Everyone can come up with their own story.”

Like her images, Judge’s titles are also open to interpretation: “Crossing,” “Striations,” “Pass Through,” for example.

“They underscore my feelings of not always knowing where I am in time and space, of always seeking connections,” she said.

Inspired by the concepts of meeting points, of confluence and repetition, Judge also sees parallels between her compositions and knitting.

“I learned to knit from my mother when I was 10. I remember sitting with her as we talked, knitted and counted stitches. I still enjoy knitting. When you knit, you have one string of yarn and you repeat the same pattern over and over again. And, suddenly, you have something else: a scarf or a sweater. That’s what I do when I draw. I repeat endless variations of the same pattern until something meaningful emerges,” she said.

Another link between her drawings and her knitting is the tool she employs. She draws with a bamboo skewer (very like a knitting needle), dipped in acrylic ink. “It is a very domestic item,” she said. “But it has a sharp point, sharper than any brush. It allows me to draw very thin lines. I build those webs of lines over one another, rows and layers, until I’m satisfied with the result. Sometimes, it takes several layers until the whole starts making sense. Of course, it takes a long time to draw all the lines I visualize for even one painting.”

Perhaps the length of time it takes her to create her pieces contributes to the fact that she doesn’t take commissions. “I tried,” she said. “But I didn’t like the clients’ constant demands. I don’t create art for the money.”

Goldstein, however, does take commissions and he relishes seeing his pieces in people’s homes.

“I create mixed media collages,” he said. “I use coloured fibres, gold foil, glass, paint, plaster.”

While Judge’s web-like pictures imply multiple dimensions, Goldstein’s fibre string collages tend to one-directional geometries, either horizontal or vertical, their colour patterns cheerful and dazzlingly bright. The gold foil and the glass fragments provide even more pizzazz to his deceptively simple compositions. “I build my canvasses like an architect builds a building,” he said.

Goldstein came to the visual art from the movie industry. Over the past three decades, he has been the director of photography for more than 75 film projects, from Hollywood features to documentaries. Creating gorgeous, highly decorative fibre collages for the last 15 years has provided him with a different outlet for his artistic vision.

“I’m inspired by nature, by the West Coast landscape,” he said. “Not as it appears on the surface. Instead, I want to capture how it feels to experience it – often chaotic, often incomprehensible. I try to convey feelings. As a mixed-media artist, I delve into the intricate, visual storytelling of people and the world around us.”

The pieces Goldstein presents in this show have rather mundane titles, in contrast to the elaborate poetry of the images themselves. “I call my paintings ‘Poetic narratives with kinetic energy,’” he said.

One of the paintings, “View of the Bay,” is a symphony of blue, where glass tiles twinkle among the strings like windows on the far shore. “No Curtains Needed,” on the other hand, is a subtler image, hinting at an open window and a playful light. The artist offers a short description for every canvas, and this one reads: “The absence of curtains allows for unfiltered light to dance freely upon the walls. It creates a sense of freedom and awe. Reminding us to let go of our barriers, both physical and cerebral, so we can.”

One of his most notable pieces in the exhibit – the white and blue “What Remains” – feels like a scream of the artist’s soul.

“The colours are the deconstructed Israeli flag,” he said. And his description of the image reads like a part of a poem: “This is my way of bearing witness to the horror unfolding in Israel and Gaza. It expresses my profound sense of conflict and loss of a meaningful identity. This piece isn’t about right or wrong or even resolution; it’s about holding space for complexity, for grief and empathy, and hope that something sacred remains.”

Goldstein exhibits a lot, and his works are in demand. “Next month, I’ll have a show at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre,” he said. “I’ll have 12 paintings there.”

Judge and Goldstein didn’t know each other before Sarah Dobbs, the gallery curator, decided that their works were complementary. “Together,” she said, “Judge and Goldstein show that both our lives and the universe are shaped by invisible threads – of memory, matter and meaning. String Theory is … about the poetic links between the personal and the cosmic, reminding us that everything is connected.” Both artists agree.

String Theory is at the Zack Gallery until Sept. 22. To learn more, check the artists’ websites: ericgoldsteinart.com and jennyjudge.com.

Olga Livshin is a Vancouver freelance writer. She can be reached at [email protected].

Two visions that complement

Kim Rosin, left, and Alejandra Morales’s shared exhibit, Parallel Visions, is at the Zack Gallery until July 21. (photo from the artists)

The double exhibit Parallel Visions opened at the Zack Gallery on June 25. It introduces two artists – Kim Rosin and Alejandra Morales – who have different backgrounds, are different ages and had never met before. But their art is amazingly compatible.

“When Alejandra submitted the photos of her pieces, they were mostly of fruit, along with a fruit stand. I thought that it would be interesting to pair her with Kim’s allotments,” said gallery curator Sarah Dobbs about why she combined both artists in one show. “However, when I saw Alejandra’s work at her studio, there was so much more, so I had to rethink.

“Upon reflection, I realized that both Kim and Alejandra turn to the natural world as more than just subjects of beauty. For Kim, painting from a community garden in West Vancouver becomes a way to reflect on growth, nourishment and the fragility of food systems in times of scarcity. Alejandra, working from northern Mexico, uses natural imagery as well, but in a dreamier way – exploring how Latin America is romanticized by outsiders. Though grounded in different geographies and experiences, both artists explore how abundance can hold layers of tension between beauty and critique, comfort and resistance. Hence the title, Parallel Visions.”

Rosin’s paintings are of her plot in a community garden. “I have always been interested in growing food,” she said. “From nothing, just a little seed, wonderful, nourishing plants grow. It feels almost magical. It makes me happy but also a little sad, because not everybody can grow their own food. Some people have to go without, when they don’t have a garden and can’t buy their vegetables because of high prices. When I look at my plot, I think of the food chain on our planet.”

Her paintings are full of edible green things: kale and lettuce, beets and carrots. One can imagine the labour that went into growing such a lush garden and the tasty dishes after the harvest. The images reflect the artist’s love for the plants she grows, as well as her longing to share her cornucopia with everyone. Her painting of red poppies is a worthy companion to the vegetable plots, adding beauty to the nutritional component. “Many people grow poppies in our plots,” she said.

photo - “Plot 5: Poppies and Pollinators” by Kim Rosin — “Plot 5: Poppies and Pollinators” by Kim Rosin. *(photo from the artist)*

Rosin also enjoys painting still life. “It is like a recording of a moment in time,” she said. “And the decorative element is there, too. People often appreciate such paintings, especially if they could ask me to include their favourite objects in the image.”

She likes working on commissions, which she describes as “collaborations with the clients.”

“Commissions take a different mindset from making art of my own, less creative freedom,” she acknowledged. “Some clients have a certain vision, and my job is to bring that vision to life. One example is dog portraits. Dog owners want them realistic, almost photographic. I don’t have to interpret anything, as I do in my own paintings. It is easier in some way, like a mechanical exercise. My creativity is not as important as my skills as a painter. Of course, it is not that simple. When I paint, the image occasionally changes on its own, it has its own demands. Then I worry. What if the client doesn’t like the end result? What if they won’t buy this painting? Fortunately, that has never happened to me.”

People’s stories have always served as an inspiration for her art. “I’m curious about everything – traveling, music, nature. Before I moved to Vancouver, I lived in Seattle,” she said. “I worked on theatre sets for several fringe theatres there…. After I moved here, I created a set for a musical on Granville Island. Teaming up with theatre companies was always a fabulous experience, despite the low budgets.”

Like Rosin, Morales also likes working on commissions. “Some people are very relaxed. ‘You’re the artist. You know what to do.’ Other people are very involved. They want exactly what they envision and you, the artist, need to give them what they want,” she said.

On the other hand, unlike the serene greenery in Rosin’s paintings, Morales’s paintings emphasize her unease with society’s contradictions and paradoxes. Her flowers are colourful and gorgeous, but unrealistic. “I wanted them too beautiful for this world, almost uncomfortable,” she said. “And the animals in my paintings – they fight, like humans do. There are conflicts there.”

In her self-portrait, which is on display, the dichotomy between the pastel tones, the elaborate, narcissistic flowers, the birds in the middle of an angry confrontation and the pensive woman facing the painting echoes the artist’s contemplation on the incongruities of life.

The self-portrait is titled “Will Happiness Find Me?” Many of Morales’s other paintings also sport titles that add a verbal facet to the art’s visual impact. “My titles come from books or songs. Or, I remember someone saying something, and it is relevant for this painting. Or a title could be a quote from an old show,” she said. Her tranquil landscape of a Vancouver shoreline is called “Nothing Mattered More Than Anything Else.”

photo - “Will Happiness Find Me?” by Alejandra Morales — “Will Happiness Find Me?” by Alejandra Morales. (photo from the artist)

Morales moved to Vancouver four years ago from Mexico. “I received my BA from McGill University in 2016 and studied for my master’s degree in visual arts at UBC.”

Besides Canada, she studied art in Spain and in her native Mexico. “When I took art classes in Mexico, many students were housewives,” she recalled. “North Mexican culture is different than here. Women are supposed to follow a traditional path of a wife and a mother. The women that took art classes were anxious because they deviated from that path. I wanted to show their anxiety, their inner struggle in my paintings.”

According to Morales, women are freer here in Canada, the entire society more relaxed, and her art reflects the difference. “I painted a jungle in Mexico – and it was very bright and colourful. But when I painted a jungle here, the colours became less vivid, more muted. Maybe because it was raining outside,” she said.

Morales taught fine art as a teacher’s assistant, while she studied at UBC. “I liked teaching. I would like to do more of that,” she said.

Her latest artistic project is rather unusual. She painted a series of cityscapes featuring dumpsters around Vancouver. “Some of them have amazing graffiti. It was such fun,” she said.

Parallel Visions is on until July 21. Rosin’s website is kimthings.com; Morales’s is moralesalejandra.com.

Olga Livshin is a Vancouver freelance writer. She can be reached at [email protected].

A family of storytellers

Ben Shneiderman, a retired computer scientist who lives in Vancouver, is a member of an extraordinary family. Recently, he promoted his Uncle Chim’s photography exhibition at the Zack Gallery, as well as the new English translation of his father’s book about the Spanish Civil War (1937-1939).

photo - Ben Shneiderman — Ben Shneiderman (photo from Ben Shneiderman)

It all started with Shneiderman’s grandfather, Benjamin Szymin, a respected publisher of Yiddish and Hebrew books in Warsaw before the Second World War. His daughter Halina (later Eileen) and son David (Chim) grew up surrounded by culture and tradition, inspired by the conversations of the best Polish-Jewish writers, artists and scientists.

“My mother Halina studied at the Warsaw university before she met my father,” Shneiderman said in an interview with the Independent. “After they married, in 1933, they moved to Paris.”

Shneiderman’s father, Samuel, was cut from the same cloth. He is considered one of the first Jewish war correspondents in Europe and America. In the 1930s, he published multiple articles and books in Polish and Yiddish on Jewish issues and social developments in Europe.

Ben Shneiderman remembered that his parents both decided early on that only his father would get a byline. “The times were different,” he said with a smile. “But they worked as a team. Mother did a lot of research. She typed the texts Father dictated, and then she edited and re-typed and fact-checked, until they were both satisfied. When Father went to Spain in 1937 to report on the Civil War, Mother went with him – she had her trusted typewriter with her.”

In 1938, Samuel Shneiderman compiled his reportages from Spain into the book War in Spain, which was published in Yiddish.

“The book included photographs taken by my uncle, Mother’s brother David, the legendary photographer Chim,” said Shneiderman. “Chim was also in Spain at the time, reporting on the war.”

In the past few years, the book has experienced an unexpected revival. “I had nothing to do with it, but I was glad,” said Shneiderman. “The book was published in Polish in 2021. Then, in 2023, it was translated into Spanish. In 2024, the English translation came from the Yiddish Book Centre.”

The English translation’s title is Journey Through the Spanish Civil War (translator Deborah A. Green), and Shneiderman gave a slide presentation on it and his family last month at the Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver, under the aegis of the Cherie Smith JCC Jewish Book Festival. He explained that his parents left Europe just before the Second World War, but they couldn’t get his grandparents out of Poland. The older generation of his family did not survive the Holocaust.

As soon as his parents arrived in New York, they became immersed in the Yiddish writing and journalism milieu, and they both started publishing in English, as well. Together and separately, they covered the themes of postwar Europe, Israel, and Jewish life in the United States. Shneiderman’s father, in addition to writing articles for such publications as The National Jewish Monthly, the New York Times, Hadassah Magazine and The Reporter, also wrote non-fiction books, poetry and movie reviews. Plus, he edited several books by prominent Yiddish writers.

Growing up in a family steeped in writing and journalism, and with his uncle being a famous photographer, it might have been expected that Shneiderman would follow in their footsteps. His older sister did, in a way. “She moved to Israel in 1963 and taught English there,” he said. But he chose a different path.

“I was always interested in photography, like Chim,” he said. “I even won a photography contest in high school.” But, in college, he studied physics and math. “I had a cousin who was a physicist. He influenced me, but I was never much into physics. Mostly, I was entranced with math and with computers. I worked as a programmer for a couple physicists while still in college. I also took psychology classes, and philosophy. I wanted to know everything.”

He kept taking photos as a hobby, and that interest persists to this day. “I photographed many of my colleagues – pioneers of computer sciences. My pictures of them were published by a number of magazines,” he said. “Overall, I have over 40,000 photos. I also published them in my book Encounters with HCI Pioneers: A Personal History and Photo Journal, in 2019.”

HCI stands for human-computer interaction, which is Shneiderman’s primary field of research. “In 1973, I got the first PhD in computer sciences at my college,” he said.

In 1977, as part of an American delegation, he went to Russia on an exchange program. “We visited Moscow and Novosibirsk,” he said. “I met many interesting people there. One of them, a local computer scientist, Simon Berkovich, told me in confidence that he wanted to emigrate to the US and asked me if I could help. I said I would try. When he left Russia some time later, he had a stopover in Rome, like many other Soviet immigrants. Some of them went on to Israel, but Berkovich contacted me, and I wrote him a letter that I needed him for my work. He was able to come to the US with this letter. We even wrote a paper together. He is a professor now at George Washington University.”

Shneiderman recalls fondly his visit to a synagogue in Moscow: “Several of us went. I was concerned about our safety, but nothing bad happened. It was fun,” he said.

On the professional front, Shneiderman has always maintained that the current trend of developing artificial intelligence (AI) as autonomous machines wasn’t the way to go. In 1980 – 45 years ago – he even wrote a book on the subject, called Software Psychology: Human Factors in Computer and Information Systems.

“AI should be a tool, not a creator,” he said. “I don’t think a software should write books or paint pictures or drive cars autonomously. I think it should make people’s jobs easier, assist humans, not replace them. After all, a camera doesn’t take photos – I do. But my smart camera helps me manage the focus, the lighting and other parameters. Apple agrees with me. I worked for them as a consultant for five years.”

Shneiderman has been a firm proponent of this point of view for decades. He has expressed it in his publications and at industry conferences. In 1982, he co-founded what is now known as the Conference on Human Factors in Computing Systems. He also coined the term “direct manipulation,” which is the way we move objects on a screen with a mouse or a finger. He thinks humans should be an integral part of computer interactions, because only humans can make ethical decisions. No AI can ever know what it feels like to be a person. “There is no ‘I’ in AI,” he joked.

Shneiderman and his wife have been living in Vancouver since 2020, when they moved here from Bethesda, Md. “My daughter teaches anthropology at UBC,” he said. “We visited her often for years and even bought an apartment here. We liked it here. Then, COVID happened, while we were visiting, so we stayed in Vancouver. My wife was born in Canada and always had a Canadian passport, and I became a citizen last year.”

From Warsaw at the beginning of the 20th century to Vancouver 100 years later, this family continues to share stories.

“Grandfather told them in Yiddish,” Shneiderman said. “My uncle told them in pictures. My parents told their stories in words. And I told them in data, using computers as my medium. We are a family of storytellers.”

Olga Livshin is a Vancouver freelance writer. She can be reached at [email protected].

Light and whimsical houses

Roxsane Tanner’s watercolours are on exhibit at the Steveston Museum and Post Office (painted here by Tanner) this month.

“Steveston is such a beautiful place,” artist Roxsane Tanner told the Independent. Her first solo show of watercolours features quaint houses of the village, where she has lived and worked for many years. The exhibit opened at the Steveston Museum and Post Office on June 1 and will be on display for the month.

Roxsane Tanner (photo courtesy)

Born in Holland soon after the Second World War, Tanner came to Canada with her family in 1951.

“My father was in the resistance, and my mother was in hiding during the war. They were both Jewish and wouldn’t have survived otherwise,” she said.

Her older sister was born during the German occupation, and her mother had to hide her baby with a local family. “My sister was 3 years old when my mom came for her after the war, to take her back. That was the first time she saw her mother.”

After the family came to Canada, her parents moved a lot. “They were very entrepreneurial,” said Tanner. “We lived in many small towns in Ontario and Quebec. Sometimes, my parents had several businesses open at the same time in the same town: a pet shop, a fabric shop, some others. They always worked hard. When I was 19, my parents and I moved to Vancouver. In the beginning, we lived in a trailer, the same one we drove here from across Canada.”

Tanner inherited her parents’ work ethic and their courage to try new things. “After high school, I wanted to study nursing, but soon after I started classes, I hurt my knees and had to come home – I couldn’t walk.”

After she healed, she became a dental assistant and worked as one for several years. “Until I met my first husband,” she recalled with a smile. “He was a wallpaper hanger. I fell in love with the man, married him, and joined his business. We worked together for several decades.”

Even after her first husband’s untimely death from cancer, she continued their business on her own. Many houses in Richmond and Vancouver feature wallpaper installed by Roxsane Tanner. By now, she has been a wallpaper hanger for more than 50 years. “But I’m slowing down,” she said. “I’m not accepting many new clients, not anymore.”

Now, she is becoming more and more absorbed in various artistic endeavours. Art was always on the periphery of her life. “I always dabbled,” she said. “Then, about 15 years ago, my second husband, Fred, and I visited Italy. He was a high school counselor before he retired; we were chaperoning a group of kids on that trip. I saw some beautiful jewelry local artisans sold on the street. I liked it, but it was too expensive. I thought maybe I could make something like that, and Fred encouraged me. When we returned home, I enrolled in a course on silversmithing and started making my own jewelry. Fred built a silversmithing studio for me in our backyard.”

She took more classes in different techniques, many of them on YouTube. “I can spend hours watching educational videos on YouTube,” she said. “There is always something new. Thousands of talented artists offer classes there. The good thing about YouTube: once you subscribe, you can watch the same lesson several times, until you really get it.”

She sells her jewelry – earrings, bracelets and necklaces – in a local Steveston shop. Occasionally, she offers her own classes in jewelry-making, to children and adults. What started as a hobby from a casual observation in Florence ended up becoming a small business, as many of Tanner’s hobbies tend to do: sewing, for example.

“My mother taught me to sew, knit and crochet,” she said. And, wanting to pass the skills on to others, she started, out of her home, to teach children how to sew. “We buy special kits and make hats and scarves for the homeless,” she said.

But that was not enough for her. Her creativity needed another outlet. About the same time as she embarked on jewelry-making, she also started painting in watercolours. “I took classes, of course, some on YouTube, others at the local Phoenix Art Workshop here in Steveston. At first, I painted landscapes, but I didn’t like it. A few years later, I went to Malta on a trip with the Phoenix Studio – they have amazing houses there, and I was inspired. The next year, we traveled to Mexico. I admired their historical buildings, but we also have amazing houses here, in Steveston. There are many heritage places here. I wanted to paint them.”

When she returned from Mexico, she noticed a blue house in Steveston she liked and took a photo of it. “I painted it from my photo. It was my first, and my friends kept bugging me: you need to show your painting to the owner. So, I went and knocked on his door. I never met him before that day, and he was somewhat gruff at first. He asked me if I would sell it to him, and I agreed. That’s how it started.”

image - Steveston’s Fisherman’s wharf, painted by Roxsane Tanner — Steveston’s Fisherman’s wharf, painted by Roxsane Tanner.

Tanner has built another small business on that foundation. “I paint houses that are for sale. Realtors around Steveston commission my paintings as gifts for the new homeowners. People also come to me and ask me to paint their houses, or their children’s houses, as gifts. Sometimes, I paint from my own photographs. Other times, the clients bring their photos and order a painting from that image.”

Besides personal homes, she paints heritage places around Steveston. The old community centre, a coffee shop, a church turned into a thrift store, the pier, with its picturesque boats, and the tiny post office – the same one where some of her work is now on display.

The exhibition includes Tanner’s original watercolour paintings plus postcards and mugs with her artwork. Some of the paintings sport charming, quirky houses found only in the artist’s imagination. “I go online and search for heritage homes around the world. If I like one, I use it as my inspiration, but I don’t copy the photos. I want my painted houses light and whimsical, like a fairy tale. Maybe a bit crooked, but reflecting the essence of the house, its soul and personality. Even the real houses I paint are not exact copies of the photos. I don’t use a ruler to make the straight lines. I use my watercolours to remind people of the fun and joy their homes bring them.”

You can see more of Tanner’s art at instagram.com/studioplace99.

Olga Livshin is a Vancouver freelance writer. She can be reached at [email protected].