2025
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Tenille Campbell Severn Cullis-Suzuki Rotimi Fani-Kayode Liz Ikiriko Anthony Kiendl Godfre Leung Eve Schillo Dr. Mark Sealy Emmy Lee Wall Chelsea Yuill
Capture 2025 4 Capture Photography Festival is produced by the Capture Photography Festival Society, a registered not-for-profit. For the most up-to-date programming information, please visit capturephotofest.com Please share your Festival experience with us on Instagram @capturephotofest Board of Directors Douglas Coupland, Co-Chair Bruce Munro Wright, Co-Chair Presthaya Fixter Mike Harris R. Stuart Keeler Tanner Kidd Leslie Lee Alison Meredith Donna Molby Jordan Reber Mahdi Shams Adrienne Wood Kim Spencer-Nairn, Founder and Chair Emerita Advisory Board Grant Arnold Claudia Beck Sophie Hackett Helga Pakasaar Donors $200,000+ Donna Molby $20,000–199,999 Anonymous $10,000–19,999 Rosalind and Amir Adnani Jane Irwin and Ross Hill Leslie Lee and John Murphy Tara and Christopher Poseley Timothy A. Young Family Foundation $5,000–9,999 Anonymous Bradshaw Family Fund Janet York and Samuel Feldman John and Helen O’Brian April 1–30, 2025 305 Cambie St Vancouver, BC V6B 2N4 capturephotofest.com [email protected] #CapturePhotoFest2025 Capture Team Festival and Communications Coordinator William J. Betancourt Bookkeeper Tania Guadagni Curatorial Assistant Khim Mata Hipol Grant and Development Coordinator Carmen Levy-Milne Executive Director and Chief Curator Emmy Lee Wall TD Assistant Curator of Engagement Sarah Danruo Wang Assistant Curator Chelsea Yuill Graphic Designer Nadine Halston Copy Editor and Proofreader Brian Lynch Printing and Assembly Mitchell Press Catalogue Coordinator Chelsea Yuill We acknowledge the traditional, ancestral, and unceded territories of the Coast Salish Peoples of the xʷməθkʷəy̓əm (Musqueam), Skwxwú7mesh (Squamish), səlilwətaɬ (Tsleil-Waututh), q̓ic̓əy̓ (Katzie), qʼʷa:n̓ƛə̓ n̓ (Kwantlen), kʷikʷəƛə̓ m (Kwikwetlem), Lilwat7úl (Lil’wat), qiqéyt (Qayqayt), ̓ SEMYOME (Semiahmoo), and sc̓əwaθən (Tsawwassen) First Nations on which Capture Photography Festival takes place. Front Cover: Maria-Margaretta Aansaamb, 2025 Courtesy of the Artist Sponsored by MLT Aikins LLP All content © 2025 the artists, authors, and Capture Photography Festival Society. Unauthorized reproduction is strictly prohibited. All images are reproduced courtesy of the artist unless otherwise specified. Capture is not responsible for the specific content or subject matter of any work displayed or advertised. Some images may be offensive, upsetting, or disturbing to some members of the public. Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication ISBN 978-1-7773547-4-9 To support Capture’s catalogue, exhibitions, public art, and public programs, please donate to our charitable partner by scanning here:
5 $1,000–4,999 Claudia Beck Monte Clark Concord Pacific Foundation Brigitte and Henning Freybe Christie and David Garofalo Pamela Richardson Terrence and Lisa Turner Bruce Munro Wright, O.B.C. Founding Donors Anonymous Anonymous Stephen Carruthers John and Nina Cassils Chan Family Foundation Mike and Sandra Harris Brian and Andrea Hill Jane Irwin and Ross Hill Hy’s of Canada Ltd. Jason and AJ McLean Michael O’Brian Family Foundation Radcliffe Foundation Ron Regan Eric Savics and Kim Spencer-Nairn Leonard Schein Ian and Nancy Telfer Samantha J. Walker (in memory of) Bruce Munro Wright Thank You Nicole Beno Rydel Cerezo Roman Chernohor Monte Clark Dana Claxton Catherine Dangerfield Jaiden George R. Stuart Keeler Jake Kimble Kyla Mallett Ian McGuffie Jason McWhinnie Karice Mitchell Gonzalo Reyes Rodriguez Chantal Shah Evann Siebens Michelle Sound Ian Wallace Michael Wesik Capture’s 2025 Catalogue is generously supported by Leslie Lee and John Murphy Supporters Presenting Sponsor We gratefully acknowledge the support of Supporting Sponsors Media Sponsor Foundation Contributing Sponsors Partners In-Kind Sponsors
Capture 2025 Welcome to Capture 2025 As photography becomes increasingly ubiquitous, the responsibility to use the medium sensitively and think critically about what we are viewing is more urgent than ever. As we work throughout the year with artists to deliver the Festival, I am continually struck by the poetic and inspired ways in which they use photography to commemorate and question the past, think through current challenges, and create delightfully unexpected possibilities for the future. I’ve witnessed first-hand that artist-led thinking can refuse prescriptive approaches, defy predetermined outcomes, and offer imaginative ways to envision the future. Welcome to the 2025 Festival! We are thrilled to share our catalogue this year, which includes editorial content by Liz Ikiriko, who questions how we can slow down and thoughtfully consider our visual consumption, and Eve Schillo, who shares her investigations into work by contemporary practitioners that is threedimensional. To accompany our signature BC Hydro Dal Grauer Substation Public Art Project by Maria-Margaretta, for the first time, we have commissioned an accompanying poem by Tenille Campbell. Chelsea Yuill, Capture’s Assistant Curator, elucidates our Featured Exhibition at the Gordon Smith Gallery of Canadian Art, which examines the myriad of ways contemporary artists are marrying textiles and photography. Other Featured Exhibitions at the Audain Art Museum, the Contemporary Art Gallery, The Polygon Gallery, and the Vancouver Art Gallery are accompanied by texts by Severn Cullis-Suzuki on Edward Burtynsky, Godfre Leung on Lindsay McIntyre, Rotimi Fani-Kayode on his practice, and Anthony Kiendl on Lucy Raven, respectively. We have also engaged artists Ariyo Bahar, MariaMargaretta, and Jacqueline Morrisseau-Addison in interviews to give them voice directly. Capture relies on the support of numerous donors and sponsors, many of whom we have long-term relationships with, and we are grateful to each of them. I would like to particularly acknowledge TD Bank, Capture’s Presenting Sponsor – we are truly grateful to have the support of a sponsor who is so committed to amplifying diverse voices and whose mandate aligns so closely with the work we do. I cannot overstate my appreciation of our truly stellar Board, led by Douglas Coupland and Bruce Munro Wright; their inspired leadership and steady hand provide invaluable guidance and support. Every success Capture has is the result of our dedicated staff, who work diligently to deliver the exhibitions and public art, catalogue, communications, public programs, and events. I am truly grateful to them for their thoughtfulness and positivity even when it feels like we are in the eye of the storm! I always feel like we are in this together and it is my pleasure and privilege to work with each member of our team. Capture is made possible as a true community effort thanks to the artists, curators, audiences, organizations, donors, and sponsors who participate in the Festival. I want to say a sincere thank you to everyone who created artwork, curated an exhibition, wrote a text, attended an event, hosted an exhibition, and supported Capture in many other ways this year, big and small. Extending yourself at this moment, putting your work out there into the world, sharing your thoughts and opinions, is no easy feat, and I want to thank everyone who opened themselves up during the Festival to extend something of themselves with everyone else. Emmy Lee Wall Executive Director and Chief Curator
138 ARTIST INDEX EDUCATIONAL PARTNERSHIP 134–135 Ghost Images: Photography and Trace Birthe Piontek Capture x Emily Carr University of Art and Design SELECTED EXHIBITIONS 106–133 Selected Exhibitions FEATURED EXHIBITIONS Stitched: Merging Photography and Textile Practices Gordon Smith Gallery of Canadian Art The Coast Mountains: Recent Works by Edward Burtynsky Audain Art Museum Lindsay McIntyre: Distance Between Objects, Time Between Events Contemporary Art Gallery Rotimi Fani-Kayode: Tranquility of Communion The Polygon Gallery Lucy Raven: Murderers Bar Vancouver Art Gallery 74–87 88–91 92–95 96–101 102–105 Dr. Curtis Collins Dr. Mark Sealy Anthony Kiendl Emmy Lee Wall and Chelsea Yuill PUBLIC ART BC Hydro Dal Grauer Substation Anvil Centre The Black Arts Centre Chinatown Storytelling Centre Salah J. Bachir New Media Wall, The Image Centre Billboard Public Art Projects Canada Line Public Art Project Evergreen Cultural Centre 28–33 34–37 38–39 40–41 42–43 44–57 60–69 70–71 TEXTS Banovan: An Interview with Ariyo Bahar When Witnessing Is Not Enough The Photographic, Understood as Sculptural Chelsea Yuill Liz Ikiriko Eve Schillo 10–15 16–19 20–23 Curated by
Capture 2025 Mónica de Miranda Groundwork, 2022 Courtesy of the Artist Part of the Arbutus Greenway Billboards Public Art Project
Capture 2025 Ariyo Bahar Glemo, from the Banovan series, 2020 inkjet print on archival paper 22.8 x 17.7 cm Courtesy of the Artist
TEXTS Banovan: An Interview with Ariyo Bahar When Witnessing Is Not Enough The Photographic, Understood as Sculptural Chelsea Yuill Liz Ikiriko Eve Schillo 10–15 16–19 20–23
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13 TEXTS Banovan: An Interview with Ariyo Bahar Text by Chelsea Yuill The photograph is a form of time travel. It circulates across time, prints, publications, and screens. The photograph’s scale and meaning is always malleable, adapting to its context and the associations the viewer brings. Ariyo Bahar, a Toronto-based artist, combines images from a popular pre-revolution magazine and family album that visually articulates seventy years of the feminine Iranian experience. Ettela’at Banovan , which translates to “Ladies Information,” was an Iranian women’s publication that was active from 1957 to 1979. Bahar honours the past by using the shorthand Banovan for this series of photo collages which began in 2020 and is recontextualized as this year’s Catalogue Commission. These cut, cropped, and pasted photo collages reveal the fragmentation of identity, memory, and family. Bahar queries the role photography plays in narrating feminine liberation and how oppressive ideologically codes are performed in order to survive.
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Capture 2025 16 Chelsea Yuill Could you speak to how you began creating this body of work? Ariyo Bahar I started working on this project in the winter of 2020, during my last semester of studies at the Toronto Metropolitan University. It began with a series of preliminary questions around photography’s relationship to memory, the family snapshot, and the photo album. In retrospect, I was also dealing with the news and aftermath of Flight PS752, which deeply shocked and affected the Iranian Canadian community. All of this led me to explore the complex relationships between personal and familial memories and the larger historical narratives that one encounters through images about Iran. CY How do you see photography’s role in making personal, familial, and collective memories? AB Within the context of family photography, I think the snapshot and portrait are powerful in shaping personal and cultural memories. Often associated with sentimentality and conformity, the family album is emblematic of a family’s history, values, and desires. The photos and the magazines I worked with to produce Banovan belong to the family of a close friend who generously shared their archive with me. They had brought their family photos, mostly taken out of albums to save luggage space, when they immigrated to Canada in the 1990s. As a person living in a diaspora, these personal photographs represent a way of life – within the privacy of a family setting – that I could relate to. Despite the fact that these are not of my own family, looking at them conjured memories of growing up in a specific cultural environment that has a long history but has been overshadowed by dominant narratives of oppression and religious extremism. As for the magazine, I view these pages as source material of a time when my grandmother’s generation was coming of age. CY Photography’s interplay between revealing and concealing, public and private, performative and intimate are pronounced in this series. How do you reconcile the contrast in feminine expressions in the magazine alongside the family snapshots? AB Ettela’at Banovan was produced as a family guide and its primary target audience was young women. It was published weekly and covered news on celebrities, royal families, health, beauty, style, along with educational articles and interviews. Ultimately, the magazine aimed to educate Iranian women to be modern, progressive, and fashionable. Similar to magazine photos, there is a degree of performativity in family photos. It is possible to imagine the women in the family photos reading the articles in Ettela’at Banovan. When juxtaposed through collage, the two sources echo one another in pose and posture, or create distortions that further unsettle and add complexity to our reading of them. Either way, for me, the cut is the most significant part of the collages. It disrupts the continuity of the original image pointing to women and families whose lives have been fractured by dominant ideologies. CY How do you see the magazine, photo album, and catalogue functioning together? AB It’s fascinating to see the collages in different contexts and at different scales, from exhibition prints that were closer in size to the original magazine pages, to large murals that subtly bring out the textural quality of printing, to the thumbnail size seen on smart-phone screens, and now on the pages in this catalogue. It’s as if they are coming full circle, returning to the pages of the publication while also regaining that intimate experience of looking at family photos. The majority of the images in Banovan span the 1950s to 1980s. Seeing them now, published here, adds another layer of complexity when considering Iranian women’s continuous fight for liberation since the 1979 revolution. p. 10 Some summer dress selections for you!, 2020 inkjet print on archival paper 38.1 x 27.9 cm pp. 12–13 Romix, 2020 inkjet print on archival paper 30.4 x 50.8 cm p. 15 Ma’am, are you willing to go in the bag?, 2020 inkjet print on archival paper 40.6 x 30.4 cm All images Courtesy of the Artist
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Capture 2025 18 Flag, announcing lynching, flown from the window of the NAACP headquarters on 69 Fifth Ave., New York City, 1936 gelatin silver print 16.8 x 21.5 cm Visual Materials from the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People Records, Library of Congress
19 TEXTS When Witnessing Is Not Enough Text by Liz Ikiriko Today, the desire to slow down and collectively question our visual consumption seems more needed than ever. How do we interpret the impact of visual culture on our understanding of the world, and how do we make space to develop our visual literacy? Ten years ago, as curator-in-residence, Gabby Moser developed No Looking After the Internet (NLATI) at Gallery TPW, a leading not-for-profit artist-run centre in Toronto focused on lens-based practices. Co-facilitated with curator Kim Simon as a project that began at TPW R&D, an interim experimental research and development space, this project has continued in varying forms outside the gallery. Originally, the monthly looking group of the gallery’s community members met over two years to engage and “read” aloud their interpretations of selected photographs. For these reasons, as the new curator at TPW, I invited Kim Simon, Gabby Moser, and NLATI session contributor/artist Deanna Bowen to discuss some of the successes and failures of NLATI. The following edited conversation provides considerations to find sense in a senseless time. Warning: in light of this conversation on difficult images, the following page presents a publicly accessible stereograph image of a man who was lynched in 1882, from the Library of Congress.
Capture 2025 20 Liz Ikiriko I’ve been thinking about conflict photography and the fact that we are bombarded with horrific scenes that surpass what we have normalized within the last fifty years. I want to discuss what it is that creates the numbness we are witnessing now. I would like to begin by asking what worked and what didn’t work with NLATI. Gabby Moser For me, the failures had to do with the difficulty of translating an out-loud reading strategy onto images, in that it was incredibly difficult to get people to speak about the images themselves. There was a psychological projection to deal with on the part of the people who participated in the looking groups, and sometimes it was about the content of the image, but often it wasn’t: often it was about other things that people brought into the space. NLATI arose from the sense that visual literacy was a skill people had, but didn’t realize it, and if given the chance to talk about their looking practices out-loud, they would realize they could make sense of an image or narrate what they were seeing. Yet that became the most impossible thing to get participants to do. There was such a high-level of resistance to it. Unlike a text, it’s impossible to agree upon where to start with an image. Where do you start looking and what do you first start talking about? The sessions that worked were ones like Deanna’s, where the artist chose a set of images that was informing their work. That took away the questions about how much context to give because there was a clear third point of triangulation. Deanna Bowen I’ve been having some good luck with complicated imagery with my students. I choose work that’s current and I moderate it in a way that gets the conversation moving. These dialogues are important right now. It’s important for people to witness other people being critical about the images that they see, in part because we are not critical. The dissemination of photographic images at this moment, as opposed to ten years ago, is infinitely faster for lack of a scientific marker. Kim Simon The slow looking project was about troubling the role of the gallery in developing critical visual literacy. We were pushing ourselves to dig into how we were asking people to see in a collective context, and thinking about how to activate images that one might be numb to. We were trying not to take for granted that the gallery can play a role in deepening literacy. It worked best with groups that were up for the conceptual experiment of examining their own looking practices. This meant looking not just at one’s own relationship to an image, but what happens when we look in public. Could we become more aware of our expectations and fears of how others might understand an image and of how others might think we understand an image? We saw this play out in the conversation Deanna hosted. The impact of looking at the particular images she strategically chose could not be contained to each individual’s relationship with that image. What was performed in that conversation was really about what it means to look at these images together, and the conscious and unconscious policing of both one’s own and other people’s looking practices. That really became an interesting failure, if you want to call it that. We never predetermined what success would look like for these conversations. It was always meant to be exploratory looking. LI I love that you said “interesting failure,” because I don’t think that’s a failure. DB It’s about visual literacy. In the groups I hosted, it was about helping people to better understand Black experience, Black history, Black Indigenous history. There’s a very real need for curators who take risks. I can’t tell you how much of a gift it is to have people that are willing to make the work better. And making the work better by taking risks, especially for my own practice, because eighty or ninety per cent of the people I know in the Canadian art world would probably balk at the idea of telling the truth. That’s a really sad thing because the way that the Canadian art scene has been perpetuated has largely always been through silence. The ruptures and the changes that happen are through exhibitions that create discomfort and that ask more of the audience than just a passive walk-through of a space. Critical conversations will take us from the Group of Seven to something that is infinitely more complex and reflective of the actual Canadian art world. That has to be achieved through some very real pushing through silence and blockages. LI I recognize there’s a desire for resolution in critical visual literacy and also the quality of responsibility that was held in NLATI. We are in such a strange time where we over-take responsibility for others’ feelings of discomfort or challenge. I’m hungry for those difficult conversations and to create environments of responsible autonomy. DB It’s ten years later and it’s night-and-day responses to the realities of White supremacy in this country. In many
21 TEXTS ways, I look back at the sessions and realize it was a super important, groundbreaking moment because it was right, and as hard as it was, it was a first and I’m glad it was with the both of you. KS Sometimes it feels like we just made participants have a more embodied experience of their shitty feelings. DB But that is not small. No, no, no, that is not small in talking about race in this country. It was a first, an effort, it was a trial and there were lessons to be learned out of that. I don’t think by any stretch of the imagination that it was a failure. GM I was thinking, Liz, about your question on what it would look like to do this now or, how would it register differently, and the resistance to the images that participants expressed is exactly what happens with Instagram sensitive-content filters. The problem is with the image, not the event that the image captures. We’ve got these platforms that bring us pictures faster than we can consume them, but they also do the same thing by displacing the trouble onto the picture instead of onto the viewer or the event. Photograph showing the body of Frank McManus hanging from a tree after being lynched by a mob, 1882 albumen print 10 x 18 cm Photographer H.R. Farr Photographs and Prints, Library of Congress KS I lean a little bit on some work Gabby’s done on the idea of the latent impacts of encounters with images, letting something percolate. Ten years later, we’re still talking about those encounters. There’s something to trust in that.
Capture 2025 22 Jackie Castillo Turning No°2, 2022 reclaimed bricks, electrophotographic prints attached to bricks with polyvinyl acetate adhesive dimensions variable LACMA Photo © Jackie Castillo
23 TEXTS The Photographic, Understood as Sculptural Text by Eve Schillo My initial entry into photography allowed me to engage with the medium as multidimensional – even when it is so clearly two-dimensional in final form. That position may seem like a conundrum, yet both history and the present moment can attest to the truth that photography and sculpture have a clear relationship. Currently, I am investigating the correlation between sculpture and “off the wall” photography. I follow, of course, in the footsteps of the seminal 1970 Museum of Modern Art exhibition that initially planted the flag, Photography into Sculpture, among other contemporary discussions ruminating on where photography is headed.
Capture 2025 24 In bringing photography, the photo hybrid, and sculptural objects together in one mental space, my intent is to illuminate the ways in which photography can embrace abstraction, temporality, and dimensionality – constructs more often centred in the world of sculpture. Pairing two media popularly viewed as oppositional, I propose to make visible their inherent common ground. Said common ground begins with the concept of positive and negative space, which is as integral to the photographic practice as it is to the multidimensional world of sculpture. Until recently, photography involved the use of a celluloid negative to create a positive image on paper. That internal spatial awareness – grounded in negative but envisioned as positive – is hard-wired into many photographic makers. Despite the shift to digital over analogue, the idea of spatially building an image in three dimensions is still in play – even more so now with a certain amount of digital backlash driving lens-based artists to move away from their screens to create hybrid work that disregards standard photo sizes or papers. This shift is what I have termed “off the wall.” From the perspective of the sculptor, their work can be addressed as either additive or subtractive: commencing from nothing (negative) and building out (positive), or beginning with a solid mass (positive) and inserting voided (negative) space. One reason I am walking down a similar path to said seminal 1970 exhibition lies in the fact that, like the majority of artists included then, many current photo experimenters are once again based in Southern California. Both the earlier and later generations of photo hybridists form a core component of the Los Angeles County Museum of Art’s collection, where I work; the lineage is one asking to be explored. Beyond my SoCal backyard, I have brought or will be bringing into our collection a range of works under this umbrella. Stitched or sewn work (Bea Nettles, Carolle Bénitah) and landscapes interrupted with yarn dyed from the natural resources of their location (Ana Teresa Barboza). Photographs on shaped, layered, or folded metal (Susan Rankaitis, Letha Wilson, Charlotte María Hauksdóttir); photo objects that incorporate elements of the “real” world (Michael Stone, Sandi Haber Fifield, Leslie Hewitt); or photographs of architectural spaces printed to scale on free-standing glass (Veronika Kellndorfer). One of my favourites is an irreverent photo-sculpture by Josephine Pryde: a silver hand reads all at once as a human, robotic, and consumer display item, and it holds a snow globe in which floats a photograph of a hand clutching a mobile phone that is ready to take a picture. One specific early example is by Los Angeles-based Sheila Pinkel, whose work from the late 1970s and early 1980s inherited a new acceptance of what a photograph could be. Back in 1973 at the University of California, Los Angeles – one year after the nationwide tour of Photography into Sculpture wrapped up – Pinkel began physically sculpting a series of photograms, shaping and folding oversized photo paper and sensitized canvases in the darkroom and exposing the newly dimensional forms to a raking light source. The manipulated photos were then developed in photochemical baths, during which the paper naturally flattened out. Each of the resultant artworks is an uncanny two-dimensional representation of itself as a three-dimensional object. In Pinkel’s words, the works became “time-space paradoxes.” Time-space paradoxes. A photograph free of its decisive moment, not defined by its capture of a blink in time, and instead inhabiting a realm of abstracted time and holding space in such a way that one physically navigates the image (its dimensionality), is what I was pursuing in my initial thinking when envisioning photo work alongside sculpture.
25 TEXTS Fast-forward to 2022, to navigate Jackie Castillo’s photo-sculpture-floor installation, a hardscape reality in Los Angeles: the last element standing from the demolition site of a single-family home, an image of a hearth without a home. Segmented into brick-sized images and fused to a topographic stack of reclaimed bricks from the very same hearth, Turning No°2 is an excavation into the historical and material loss of Los Angeles’ built environment and the fastchanging demographics of those placed and those displaced. The uneven levels of the work replicate the tension of a changing dynamic (or an earthquake), the edges of the photographic frame fragmented, undoing our expectations of photography as fixed and truthful and holding still the transience of the modern metropolis. Important to the work is the visual language of labour recalled in hefting the reclaimed bricks and in the physical act of the artist reassembling them, while also reflecting on the labouring class that built the structures around us. Clearly, photo hybrids come to their sculptural state through quite a range of conceptual constructs, embracing the essence of light or reflecting a more socio-politically motivated art practice, as in these two case studies. I gravitate toward this work for an equally wide range of appreciation: formal, conceptual, spatial – but mostly in appreciation of their desire to escape the tyranny of photo paper, sizes, mats, frames, and fixed processes. Sheila Pinkel Grand Glory, circa 1976–82 gelatin silver print 137.1 x 271.7 x 35.5 cm Los Angeles County Museum of Art Photographic Arts Council, 2011 Courtesy of Museum Associates/LACMA
Capture 2025 Buck Ellison Untitled (Christmas Card #7), 2017 Courtesy of the Artist Part of the Davie St Billboards Public Art Project
Capture 2025 Jorian Charlton Cynn & Melisse, 2020 Courtesy of the Artist and Cooper Cole Part of the East Vancouver Billboards Public Art Project
PUBLIC ART BC Hydro Dal Grauer Substation 28–33 Aansaamb: An Interview with Maria-Margaretta 29–31 Emmy Lee Wall Chelsea Yuill sagawakisis, our ancestors are always with us: An Interview with Jacqueline Morrisseau-Addison 35–37 The Black Arts Centre 38–39 Chinatown Storytelling Centre 40–41 Salah J. Bachir New Media Wall, The Image Centre 42–43 Billboard Public Art Projects 44–57 Dr. Mark Sealy Time, Reflection, Balance and Symmetry Expanded 45–47 Canada Line Public Art Project 60–69 In Conversation with Aansaamb 32–33 Tenille Campbell Evergreen Cultural Centre 70–71 Anvil Centre 34–37
Capture 2025 30 BC Hydro Dal Grauer Public Art Project Maria-Margaretta Aansaamb, 2025 Maria-Margaretta Aansaamb, 2025 Courtesy of the Artist Site photo: Nelson Mouëllic Installation mock-up: Robert Marks Curated by Emmy Lee Wall, Capture Photography Festival April 2025 – March 2026 944 Burrard St, Vancouver
31 PUBLIC ART Aansaamb: An Interview with Maria-Margaretta Text by Emmy Lee Wall Maria-Margaretta’s practice explores the ways in which her role as a mother and her deep connection to her ancestry and Métis heritage converge to create her understanding of self. For the 2025 Festival, Margaretta was commissioned to create a site-specific installation titled Aansaamb, the Michif word for “among.” This photograph is installed on the façade of the BC Hydro Dal Grauer Substation building on a busy thoroughfare in downtown Vancouver. The word “among” immediately conjures a broader group, a sense of belonging to a community and being in the company of others, ideas that flow through this work as well as the artist’s broader practice. Aansaamb depicts the artist’s young daughter holding a bundle of beaded clothing on her ancestral homelands of St. Louis, Saskatchewan, along the South Saskatchewan River. She holds an infant shirt, made by the artist, her mother, embellished with The BC Hydro Dal Grauer Substation Public Art Project is sponsored by MLT Aikins LLP
Capture 2025 32 traditional Michif floral motifs. The shirt is wrapped around a stone axe head that was gifted to the artist by her father. These objects, carrying stories and histories, tether the three generations together. Situated along the riverbank, the symbolic articles are where they belong, held and carried by the artist’s daughter, among the land that has raised generations of Métis families and kin. Aansaamb makes visible a lineage of inheritance through the passing down of worlds and knowledges through love and care. Emmy Lee Wall Can you discuss the process of creating this work – from concept to finished photograph? Maria-Margaretta Aansaamb is a continuation of a series in which I document myself engaging with beaded objects and objects of importance within my Michif archive. This particular beaded garment was made for my daughter as my first gift to her postpartum. These plaid infant shirts serve as regalia and draw on a similar style of shirts I created for myself, like the work comin round for coffee (2021). Building on floral motifs used in previous artworks, the piece solidifies her place in our familial material archive. Around this time, I was gifted a stone axe head by my father, which symbolized the passing down of knowledge to the next generation. At some point after my daughter outgrew the shirt, I wrapped it around the stone for transportation, merging the objects. When considering photographing these works, I knew I wanted to travel with them to my Métis homelands in Saskatchewan on our annual road trip through the Prairies, visiting sites important to my Michif family so my daughter would know those spaces and they could know her. One day, we drove up to St. Louis, and sat next to the water. I had my pieces with me to show any cousins I might bump into. I placed the pieces on the ground beside me and my daughter reached out to pick them up, and of course she did, she knew the work, she knew the beads belonged to her. It was a moment of connection relating her to all her ancestors who had known and loved that land. ELW Was this process different for you because you were thinking of this as a public art project rather than a work for an interior gallery space? MM I actually spent a lot of my twenties working as a server at a restaurant on Burrard Street. So I had this lived experience and understanding of how this piece could function and what it might be up against. I wanted to focus on removing the noise of industry and concrete structure of the urban landscape to hold the viewer. In doing so, I am presenting an extremely intimate moment of connection in collaboration with the expansiveness of the sky above. I often think of my works as portals and glimpses into pasts, presents, and futures. With this very large-scale public-facing work, I feel it functions similarly by invoking the viewer’s relationship to place while briefly transporting them to other worlds or moments in time. ELW The work was shot along the banks of the Saskatchewan River – can you share a bit about the cultural significance of the site? MM The photo was taken along the South Saskatchewan River in my ancestral homelands of St. Louis, Saskatchewan. Our family homestead is on Riverlot 12 and is located on the same banks where my grandpa, Raymond Boucher, grew up. We are a Resistance family, we fought and sacrificed to continue caring for that land. There are many caretakers from my lineage who still remain there building Métis futures. ELW It’s beautiful the way your work embraces motherhood and family. I’m curious about the ways in which you weave your familial relationships into your practice and how your role within your family informs your work. MM My practice has always been intertwined with the personal and the everyday. The objects in my work are intentional. They carry different stories and histories, and they often remark on memories of moments or family members. An important part of creating these beaded works is archiving and documenting them for the next generation to allow for a re-remembering and access to these methods of making and knowledges. With the birth of my daughter and this new role as a mother, my work naturally expanded to include our everyday life with her and my partner. My practice shifted and adapted to create in new ways that welcomed slowness and care. I think a lot about domestic labour and overlooked labour and what society places value on. I realized that motherhood and parenting my daughter are just as much a part of my artistic practice, even if it doesn’t feel like I’m being productive in the ways capitalism demands of us. These everyday moments in all of their complexities, of love and togetherness – that is the world-building I’ve been dreaming of.
33 PUBLIC ART ELW I love the way you describe the merging of your everyday life with your artistic practice. You describe the objects in your work as those which connect your daughter to her ancestral history, and the image you created as one which connects viewers to place. Would you say this idea of connection is an ongoing theme within your practice? MM Absolutely. A lot of objects and themes within my practice are circular in the sense that they all relate back to one another and are ongoing in their development. When I look at my extended body of work, they are all in relationship to one another. My practice has always been a way to tell my stories through distinct personal experiences and how those in turn connect to broader themes of identity and belonging. This has allowed for many really beautiful moments of relationality. In that way, I think my work always connects me back to place and to loved ones and histories – while creating openings for others to engage and see themselves in the pieces.
Capture 2025 34 Maria-Margaretta Aansaamb, 2025 Courtesy of the Artist Sponsored by MLT Aikins LLP
35 PUBLIC ART In Conversation with Aansaamb Tenille Campbell from blue skies to blue waters my love for you is encompassed in blue blue as the deep ever shifting hues of the south saskatchewan carrying stories past us from fish creek to batoche to st louis north to south we gathered stories up and down these riversides that still carry the accents of our grandmothers’ past their laughter in the currents their joy in the eddies that swirl blue as the skies on a hot prairie day walking through fields and brush through the sage and juniper dandelions and chokecherries the sun on our shoulders the river wind cooling us down blue as the berries we pick and feast upon lips and fingers stained buckets full hearts full blue as the hour after sunset as we set towards home coyotes yipping and loons calling your hand in mine your hands reach for a connection tied from cloth strung through bead sitting on the banks of history I tell you the story of us I call you home I welcome you back
Capture 2025 36 Anvil Centre Public Art Project Jacqueline Morrisseau-Addison sagawakisis, our ancestors are always with us, 2025 Jacqueline Morrisseau-Addison sagawakisis, our ancestors are always with us, 2025 Courtesy of the Artist Site photo: City of New Westminster Installation mock-up: Robert Marks Curated by Chelsea Yuill, Capture Photography Festival April 2025 – March 2026 777 Columbia St, New Westminster
37 PUBLIC ART sagawakisis, our ancestors are always with us: An Interview with Jacqueline Morrisseau-Addison Text by Chelsea Yuill In Jacqueline Morrisseau-Addison’s public art installation on the façade of the Anvil Centre, the sun rises above a silhouette of prairie grass with the artist’s handembroidered floral beadwork adorning either side of the landscape photograph. Centred in the image is the beaded word spelling sagawakisis, which refers to the cycle of the rising sun in the Saulteaux dialect of Anishinaabemowin. Their public artwork, sagawakisis, our ancestors are always with us, honours Indigenous medicine, spirit guides, lineage, and creation stories. It is an image that affirms the challenging journeys Indigenous people face as they retrace connections to their family histories, recognizing the powerful role of cultural belongings which guide their paths. Commissioned by the City of New Westminster, this temporary public art installation is presented in partnership with Capture Photography Festival
Capture 2025 38 As a graduate student in the Department of Art History, Visual Art and Theory at the University of British Columbia, Morrisseau-Addison has an interdisciplinary and collaborative art, curatorial, and writing practice that works toward envisioning “a future in which all beings thrive.”1 In tandem with their studies and while creating this public artwork, Morrisseau-Addison visited the sacred belongings of Saulteaux, Anishinaabeg, and neighbouring nations that are in the collections of the Museum of Anthropology and the City of New Westminster Museum and Archives. From an Indigenous world view, these belongings are not aesthetic objects but are living entities that have their own specific creation stories and exist in relation to community. A question this artwork invites us to reflect upon is: how can institutions work toward making these reconnections? As MorrisseauAddison pieces together fragments of her own family’s story, sagawakisis, our ancestors are always with us speaks to the journey in searching for these stories of cultural inheritance. Chelsea Yuill Much of your practice is dedicated to retracing lineage to rebuild connections that have strategically been disrupted by the Canadian government. By gleaning stories from relatives as well as your inquiries into civic and museum archives, how do you navigate empathy-centred relations that contrast the brutality of the institutional archive? Jacqueline Morrisseau-Addison I’ll start by introducing myself. Boozhoo. Nindišinikaaz Jacqueline. Gaawiin mashi ingikenimaasiin Anishinaabe wiinzowin. Nindoodem mukwa. Niidoonjii Lethbridge, Alberta. Niin shiigoo daaya Vancouver, maanpii Musqueam, Squamish miinwaa Tsleil-Waututh akiing. Chi miigwech kina geghoo. Hello. My name is Jacqueline. My last names are Morrisseau and Addison. On my father’s side, the Addisons came from England and settled in Southern Saskatchewan in the 1900s. On my mother’s side, we are Saulteaux from Keeseekoose First Nation in Treaty 4 Territory. On her side, my great-grandfather is Alfred Morrisseau and my great-grandmother is Alice Compton (née Genaille). My grandmother is Maryanne Morrisseau and my mother is Jean Morrisseau-Addison. I am Bear Clan and I was born in Lethbridge, Alberta, but currently live in Vancouver. I express my gratitude to the Musqueam, Squamish, and Tsleil-Waututh Nations, whose lands I am very fortunate to live with. My work is grounded in my family’s story of reconnection. In a way, my practice is a series of love letters to my family and kin. We have endured and continue to endure so much, but despite it all, we find a way to embody love, humour, and joy in all that we do. My great-grandma Alice, we call her Grannie, is a residential school Survivor, which has significantly disrupted our family. My mother is a ’60s scoop Survivor, which was another way that the Canadian government attempted to assimilate Indigenous children by removing them from their families and cultures, having them adopted into White families. For a long time, my mom and I felt that void, and it was really important to us to look for our relatives who we hoped to find. When we requested information about our family from the Manitoba Post-Adoption Services, we received an information package including birthdays, health records, and social worker notes; however, all the names – except for my kokum Maryanne’s – were redacted. They also included a photograph of my mom when she was a baby that was in a newspaper clipping from 1965. The article, which spotlighted the foster home my mom was in, was titled, “Like Getting a Bank Loan: Foster Mother to 144.” This was the first photograph and, so far, the only photograph my mom has of herself as a baby. This photograph and the context that we received it in has really shifted the way I think about photography and archives. Every photograph we have is precious, and with each piece we find, our understanding of who we are becomes a bit clearer. Because of the information that is withheld from us, we had to do our own research to find names and contact people through social media platforms, sharing the fragmented story we had, until we luckily found our family. Shortly after finding them, I came across the Anishinaabemowin term biskabiyang, in a book called As We Have Always Done (2017) by Leanne Betasamosake Simpson. Bīskabiyang encouraged me to reflect on the deeper meanings of reconnection and the reality that this process is not and cannot be an individualistic endeavour. From how I understand it, bīskabiyang is the ongoing process of returning to ourselves. It is a lifelong journey of learning and unlearning, and requires continued efforts to connect in genuine ways with kin and teachings that have been passed on through generations. It is inherently interconnected to all that we are in relation to – and that comes with many responsibilities. Therefore, creating art that embodies bīskabiyang means that my family is always a part of this work. This is not just my story, but our story, and so I have a responsibility to ensure that I am sharing what is allowed to be shared and telling our story in a way that we all feel good about. CY Land, place, relations, time, and material: all of these are connected for you. Can you speak to your process in making this public art installation and its icons of familial and cultural significance?
39 PUBLIC ART JMA I spent a lot of time at the beginning of this project reflecting on how to share a story specific to who and where I come from in a space that would be witnessed by so many people, from many unique cultures. The Anvil Centre is situated on unceded Coast Salish territory and in the urban setting of New Westminster. It’s an active multidisciplinary arts space with year-round programming and houses the City’s archives and museum collection. Alongside this project, I’ve been working as a Cultural Interpreter at the Museum of Anthropology (MOA), researching plains and woodlands Anishinaabe belongings, and creating a pair of moccasins that I am gifting to their teaching collection. Of course, since their inception, museums are complicated spaces that haven’t always prioritized Indigenous peoples’ voices or perspectives. A lot of our belongings and relatives are in these spaces and have arrived there in many ways – theft, coercion, public and private sales, donations, and gifts – and during periods when we weren’t allowed to practise our respective cultural practices. The process of researching belongings at MOA and the Anvil Centre has felt similar to how it felt looking for our family. I’m grateful to my auntie Irene Compton, who reminded me that all of these belongings are sacred. They all have creation stories and are connected to living people, the land, the cosmos. Unfortunately, the way a lot of these belongings are displayed or presented doesn’t communicate this connection. Sitting behind glass cases and in storage drawers, given identification numbers, and the reality that their creation stories haven’t been carried with them to these places result in these institutions having little to no information about them. In a way, they feel neglected, but they still exist and deserve attention and care. I believe that they can be reunited with their creation stories once again, and I believe that this work is part of the responsibility of these institutions who house them. With all of this in mind, I wanted to create an image that affirms the difficult journeys that I and many Indigenous folks are on as we search for answers and connection to those we come from, all while being so far from home and navigating urban settings like New Westminster and Vancouver. The base of this image is a photograph of a sunrise I watched with my mom when we went back home last fall. Whenever I think of home, I’m reminded of the deep relationships our people cultivate with the land, and the knowledge we learn from one another. Sagawakisis refers to the rising sun, which signals a new day, a fresh start. Along the sides of the image are beaded plants that guide me. As I don’t have references of my family’s beadwork styles (as they may be lost or we have not been reunited yet), I’ve been learning from the beadwork in these collections and other makers to create my own beadwork styles. The florals in this image will be present on the moccasins I’m creating for MOA. So in a way, it traces my footsteps in both institutions, acknowledging the belongings I’ve visited who reside there, and is a part of my work of constructing and repairing my own family’s archive. Chi miigwech to my mom, Jean Morrisseau-Addison, and my aunties, Irene Compton and Dolores Compton, for their guidance in this project. 1. “About,” Jacqueline MorrisseauAddison, December 12, 2024. www.jacquelinemorrisseau addison.com/about.
Capture 2025 40 The Black Arts Centre Public Art Project Left: Kriss Munsya Syracuse. Genetic Bomb, 2022 Courtesy of the Artist and Gallery Jones Right: Ngadi Smart Kroo Bay Community in Freetown, Sierra Leone, from the Wata Na Life series, 2021 Courtesy of the Artist Site photo: Khim Mata Hipol Installation mock-up: Robert Marks
41 PUBLIC ART Kriss Munsya and Ngadi Smart Speculations Within and Beyond the Black Fantastic Curated by The Black Arts Centre April 1 – July 31 10305 City Pkwy #105, Surrey Lively yet harrowing, familiar yet distant, Speculations Within and Beyond the Black Fantastic addresses the history of Western photography and the political power dynamics that attempt to pathologize the Black subject – and, by extension, Blackness itself – within and beyond the frame. As the subject of speculation, the Black body has historically been rendered as a diminished “other,” burdened with meanings imposed upon its likeness from elsewhere. In response to these turbulent relations between Western photography and the Black body, Munsya’s and Smart’s images embrace the fantastical and the speculative. Both artists employ these as aesthetic and liberatory practices to document Black life as it exists today, while envisioning possible realities and afterlives for Blackness – both in this world and those yet to come. Incorporating Ekow Eshun’s In the Black Fantastic (2022) and the works of Black speculative fiction writers like Toni Morrison, Octavia Butler, and Toni Cade Bambara as points of departure, Speculations Within and Beyond the Black Fantastic scrutinizes the construction of race and the animate and inanimate paraphernalia utilized to reinforce its fictitious nature. Whether born in the Congo and now living in Vancouver, as in Munsya’s journey, or having roots in Sierra Leone, as in Smart’s case, their practices illustrate the dynamic canon of Black lens-based artists. These artists participate in an interplay of subject matter that merges traditional African and Afrodiasporic folklore, Afrofuturism, and the contemporary state of Blackness. Through this synthesis, these works offer a vibrant, wondrous, and kaleidoscopic vision of Black life that lauds the uses of the speculative, reconfigures notions of Black subjectivity, and envisions realities where Blackness transcends the impossible. Text by Olumoroti Soji-George Presented in partnership with The Black Arts Centre
Capture 2025 42 Chinatown Storytelling Centre Public Art Project Fred Herzog Black Man Pender, 1958 Courtesy of The Estate of Fred Herzog and Equinox Gallery, Vancouver © The Estate of Fred Herzog, 2025 Site photo and installation mock-up: Chinatown Storytelling Centre
43 PUBLIC ART Fred Herzog Chinatown in Focus: Selected Photographs by Fred Herzog Curated by Carol Lee, Vancouver Chinatown Foundation April 1–30 On view every day from dusk until 11 pm A photographic projection on the exterior façade of the Chinatown Storytelling Centre at 168 E Pender St near Main St, Vancouver As part of the 2025 Capture Photography Festival, a captivating collection of Fred Herzog’s iconic photographs will be projected as a public art installation in Vancouver’s historic Chinatown. Focusing specifically on the neighbourhood and its surrounding areas, Herzog’s images offer an intimate look at the vibrancy and complexity of Vancouver’s Chinatown in the mid-twentieth century. Known for his pioneering use of colour photography, Herzog’s work captures the rich textures of daily life, the interplay of cultures, and the evolving urban landscape with a rare depth and clarity. Through state-of-the-art projection, the installation will breathe new life into Herzog’s images, casting them onto the very buildings he once photographed. The projection will transform the public space, offering viewers a chance to experience the area’s history in a dynamic way, while reflecting on the ongoing changes in this culturally significant neighbourhood. Set against the backdrop of Chinatown’s distinctive architecture, the exhibition highlights Herzog’s keen eye for detail and his ability to freeze moments of quiet beauty in an otherwise bustling city. This installation invites both residents and visitors to reflect on the past, present, and future of Vancouver’s Chinatown, while celebrating the lasting legacy of one of Canada’s most influential photographers. Presented in partnership with the Vancouver Chinatown Foundation, the Chinatown Storytelling Centre, Equinox Gallery, and the Estate of Fred Herzog
Capture 2025 44 Salah J. Bachir New Media Wall, The Image Centre Public Art Project Caroline Monnet Creatura Dada (still), 2016 single-channel video with sound 3:00 min. Courtesy of the Artist and Blouin Division Site photo: The Image Centre Installation mock-up: Robert Marks
45 PUBLIC ART Caroline Monnet Creatura Dada, 2016 Curated by Emmy Lee Wall, Capture Photography Festival May 7 – August 2 Salah J. Bachir New Media Wall, The Image Centre at 33 Gould St, Toronto Caroline Monnet’s work explores her bicultural life as an artist of Anishinaabe and French descent. Her multidisciplinary practice examines the shifting of her cultural history. Through her work, she considers the impact of colonialism by updating outdated systems with Indigenous Knowledge. In her film Creatura Dada (2016), Monnet orchestrates a powerful gathering of six Indigenous francophone women: Alanis Obomsawin, Nadia Myre, Swaneige Bertrand, Nahka Bertrand, Émilie Monnet, and herself, around a lavish dining table. This gathering is a celebration of their shared Indigeneity, identity, and cultural heritage. It is a moment of recollection and conviviality, a testament to the resilience and strength of Indigenous women. The film itself refers to the artistic movement Dada, established during the early twentieth century. This avant-garde movement rejected conventional aesthetics and embraced the unconscious, irrational, and inconsistent. Monnet utilizes the strategies inherent in collage, montage, and assemblage in her film, which rejects the traditional flow of narrative storytelling and instead welcomes the unpredictability of the scenes as they unfold. Blurring the boundaries between reality and dreams, Monnet marries Western art history with Indigenous symbols, creating a new, hybrid representation. Presented in partnership with The Image Centre at Toronto Metropolitan University
Capture 2025 46 Billboard Public Art Project Mónica de Miranda Whistle for the wind, 2022 Courtesy of the Artist Site photo: Dennis Ha Installation mock-up: Robert Marks Arbutus Greenway Billboards: Mónica de Miranda Grounding Curated by Dr. Mark Sealy Director of Autograph 1991– Professor of Photography Rights and Representation University of the Arts London March 7 – May 25 Sited on seven billboards along the Arbutus Greenway between Fir St and Burrard St, Vancouver
47 PUBLIC ART Presented in partnership with the City of Vancouver and sponsored by Pattison Outdoor Billboards The Arbutus Greenway Billboards are generously supported by Tara and Christopher Poseley Time, Reflection, Balance and Symmetry Expanded Text by Dr. Mark Sealy The turbulence of this world’s colonial history bangs in the brain a dreadful tune that is so loud and violent that it appears the only way out of its devastation is to keep singing the songs of revolution and redemption and to amplify, whenever possible, the voices of anticolonial solidarity. When locked in the noise and violence of colonizing regimes, we get conditioned into a need to shout at this world’s unjust past. Shouting is an exhausting and taxing condition, a distraction that keeps us away from developing and implementing strategies of resistance that build new alliances and solidarities. The imperial swamp is difficult to exit and works to drown all thoughts on possible post-colonial living.
Capture 2025 48 Real justice is difficult to obtain; it is never given. It must be fought for, but we must be mindful to protect, build, and maintain the hard-gained political structures that allow all crimes, past and present, against humanity to be prosecuted. In our songs of redemption and our calls for civil, human, and environmental rights, we sometimes forget to listen to the quiet internal voice of the self. This voice (the voice of hope) helps us locate our dreams and to access the calm space of our minds. It aids acts of infinite possibility, generosity, and total recognition of all the people’s struggles in this world. History has taught us that colonialism is a vampire; it draws the lifeblood out of creativity and eats the soul. If we lose sight of our capacity to imagine and make things new, then the pain of the past is in danger of being the only soundtrack of our lives. Trapped in a temporal misery not created by us but by those who are motivated by greed! Now more than ever, we need our artists to make more than images, words, and music. Their crucial function at this conjuncture is to remind us that we must never lose sight of our capacity to feel, contemplate, and treasure all that is life. Mónica de Miranda offers us an image repertoire of uplifting escape routes from underneath the weight of history, the burdens and the shackles of colonial time and all its tyrannical, bone-crushing metropolitan rhythms that form the dark arts of human enlightenment. de Miranda’s work invites the audience into unfamiliar and beautiful places. She disrupts the industrial colonial norm of things; there is within her work a radical conjoining of different temporalities, a placing of peoples in space that suggests the presence of ancestral truth-seeking guardians is never far away both in spirit and body, unreachable by extraction and exploitation. Through de Miranda, contemplation and the art of silence are brought to bear, inner worlds released. As guardians, those standing fast across these works watch and wait for the audience to embrace their presence; they challenge us to deny their rightful place in history. Their purpose as representative subjects is to preserve and locate the critical senses of human exchange. Collectively, and within this labour of thinking and making, de Miranda’s landscapes of contemplation call on us to reflect on history’s difficult questions and invite the audience to own the prospect of equitable beginnings. de Miranda desires to make the world new, differentiated in time but not isolated in spirit. Her subjects can only be described as the forever people because, through the archaeologies of her work, nothing remains buried, as the unseen is also felt. Here, we can collectively uncover all the lost words and images that might have once been said and seen by those denied the right of voice and recognition. Within this buried world, the difficult conditions that produce the feelings of tenderness are loud in our silence. With photography, you must stay still and silent, if only for a moment, taking time to look deep to allow the roots of connectivity to grow. Silence and stillness are part of the universe, balanced across all the conditions of lives lived, past and present. de Miranda is not preoccupied with borders and passports because land and atmosphere have a memory that must be heard, acknowledged, and respected. She rejects those obsessed with discovery, demarcation, and extraction. Welcome then to her eternal I, we, you, me. de Miranda refuses the notion of Eurocentric time being an unstoppable linear process. Instead, she circles back through and on colonial time to weave new narratives that produce dynamic forces of liberational thought, generating ways of being and using knowledge systems that reside beyond the printed page that both aid and reinstate the negated harmonies of this world. In this reimagined sense of community, there is no place for bordered states (of mind), only space and place for connections so that work can be done across the realities and experiences that influence the conditions of understanding post-empathy. Through de Miranda’s work,
49 PUBLIC ART we can understand that we are forever bonded as cosmic entities, and if left unagitated, we can float forever in respectful, imaginative, and shared space. Across de Miranda’s works, reflection is an ever-present now seen in the face of the Other, the place where responsibility is permanent. Here, the self can be seen, heard, felt, and shared. The stoic nature of this work does not cause fright; there is no screaming. Instead, these subjects demand a sense of pausing so that the time of our complex histories can be played back, processed, rewound, and rechannelled into a more honest understanding of the way we were/are, and then magically and radically if we listen for long enough different frequencies might be heard that score a new harmonic for a different kind of living. Mónica de Miranda Astronauta, 2022 Courtesy of the Artist
Capture 2025 50 Pattison Outdoor Billboard Public Art Project Buck Ellison Untitled (Christmas Card #6), and Untitled (Christmas Card #7), 2017 Courtesy of the Artist Installation mock-up: Robert Marks