INTERMISSIONS

works for a post-pandemic world.

expressions of colour and light

dreamscapes

GALLERY #1

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together we standEthan Paxton
00:00 / 01:59

Together We Stand by Ethan Paxton

Hands Collage by Chelsea Brimstin

What The World Needs Now Is Love by Thalia Ranjbar

Singers: Rachel Lloyd and Robert Popoli
 

Musician: William Li
 

Song: What The World Needs- By Hal David and Burt Bacharach
 

Video editing: Grace Campbell

Cinematography: Drew Smith

Artists Featured: Thalia Ranjbar, Rachel Lloyd, Robert Popoli, William Li, Grace Campbell, Natalie Chevalier, Brent Miller, Drew Smith, Ava Conlon, Somayeh Kashi, Tatyana Austrie, Orlena Bray, Gabriel Sizeland, Sarah McMillan, Nolan Linskey, Charlotte Linskey, Keyan Conlon, Patrick Avery-Kenny, Ethan Butler, Jack Sizeland, Lisa Marie- Oliphant, Abigale Oliphant, Sahar Kashi, Ariana Ranjbar, Kora Farley- Smith.

These works are an unfolding of a culture and where it all comes from in a mixed heritage Black British born with strong cultural roots in the Caribbean.  Families being separated by water, there is both a disconnect and an unspoken obvious connection to black culture regardless of upbringing. These patchwork visual stories weave together ENNÈ's personal journey, for us now as a collective to piece everything together as we heal collectively.

Three Works by ENNÈ

This collection of digital doodles were created during quarantine and
visual explorations of questions they have been asking themselves
during this chaotic time.

 

The questions are:

How does trauma manifest in my body as a queer, femme, racialized and disabled person?

How do i de-centre whiteness in my artistic practice and how to I
decolonize my practice? Is that even possible?


How do I challenge notions of good art and make the art that makes me happy.

What would the child who didn't have their imagination limited by
white supremacy want to create?

Doodles by Kitoko Mai

Hope by JessAmy Perkins

Australian Sunsets by JessAmy Perkins

I want to be somewhere other than here

Munich, Bermuda, the beach, the sand in my toes, the
city life and tongue of another language all around me

- Amelia Eqbal

Covid19 - Portrait of a Bitter Spring by Tina Falbo

Seasons B.C.*
*Before COVID-19

by Amelia Eqbal

The autumn leaves were dusted and crusted
With white fleck and ice that had reared their heads

overnight

Tis the season for snow-capped Adirondacks

Hands balled up and thrust indefinitely into pockets,

permanently punching the chill in the air

Fingers curled around wads of fleece and elastic,

nails gnashing into palmy flesh

Sticky remnants on fingertips

From painting menthol lips

Noses deeply tucked behind cotton mesh

Ears emerging slightly from folded woolen fabric

The howling wind tugging at my hair as if it has a

secret it was dying to share.

And yet they rightly insist that

The gentle lift of a squirrel's body will soon come

into focus

That chimes will dance and sing in delight at the way

the wind winds its way through their stoic metal bars

That spring will come again.

Tina's post-pandemic message comes in the form of a portrait collage created from deconstructed watercolour studies she accumulated in her pre-pandemic life.

She is hopeful that our deconstructing lives will lead us to find light in the darkness.

I have grown weary of places I once found lively.

We are all at the mercy of our nature and our dreams.

Everywhere I look, I see two permanent things: the earth around us and our thoughts of our dreams. These two things are so incredibly loud that at a time where death (our inevitable nature) has become so prominent, we look to our dreams and desperately try to accomplish them. Not without difficulty, because often one of them overcomes the other. Now when my dreams are too far to touch, I look to the earth and see the promise of life everywhere, and I feel okay.

I had a dream that softened my heart to all the places I've been

And all the memories of them I might have missed

They were clear as day

Bright and unyielding

I will return to them.

by Sahar Salha

Photo Of The Work Switch Function.jpg
Photo Of The Work I'm Starting To Be Spo
Photo Of The Work I'm Depressed.jpg
Photo Of The Work Negotiable Crowd.jpg
Photo Of The Work Chat Sale.png

Chat Sale by Yohanes Soubirius de Santo

Negotiable Crowd by Yohanes Soubirius de Santo

I'm Depressed by Yohanes Soubirius de Santo

Switch Function by Yohanes Soubirius de Santo

I'm Starting to be Spotted by Yohanes Soubirius de Santo

*For full descriptions of the works, click each of the individual photos and download Artist Statements by Yohanes Soubirius de Santo.

Beau-beau

by Chinedu Andrew Atisele

When no wind is in the park,
Lucy likes to blow her bubbles,

Bright and bulging,

light and leaping,

O'er the shiny ponds and puddles;

When the windless park is empty-

Lucy sure likes to whistle a lot,

Because no more nasties nor meanies

Are able to pop her sparkling sweeties,

While she makes a whish with her purple wand,

Which looks like a hoop with a plastic handle,
To those who cannot handle even the simple magic,

Her heart is busy making a sudsy song

Skinny bubbles, wider bubbles,

Shaky bubbles, calmer bubbles,

Flutter away, lalala
Fly, fly fly away.

That's why
when no wind is in the park,

Lucy loves to blow her bubbles

Bright and bulging, light and leaping,

O'er the shiny ponds and puddles!

                 Photos by Anna Miltenburg

Quarantine Selfies

72 days becoming 1

Isolation Squad

Painting A Gay Masterpiece by Ariana Magliocco

On Stimulus Cheques by Danielle Solo

Thank you, Trudeau,

for being my crystal sugar daddy

these past few months —

I'm lost in a fluorite sphere glittery as a dream;

jade baby yoda, tell me what to do

finally given a living wage,

I spend thousands on rocks.

War And Peace Inside My Mind by Monty Langford

Photos by Amelia Eqbal

Paper Art by Kahala Michelle (@abstractlover)

And it will be beautiful

by Eloïse Poulton

I have a duty of care

to myself, to be fair

to myself, to extend

to myself love I send

out beyond my own parts

to the world's beating hearts. 

 

These hearts which thrum

in chests do drum;

in city streets

the ground, it beats;

and underfoot

my hands I put

flush on lush ground

to hear the sound ––

Supercharged and sizzling, 

my nerve-endings fizzling, 

I recall a fact

I know, a pact

made between the earth and I,

sanctified by sea and sky:

 

We live as we die. 

Together, alone. 

We howl and we moan. 

We laugh and we sleep. 

We dance as we weep. 

Until the last flutter, 

until we last utter

nothing, or something:

 

'We belong to everything.'

I have a duty of care

to myself, to be fair

to myself, to extend

to myself love I send

out beyond my own parts

to the world's beating hearts. 

If this love you extend, 

your soul you can mend. 

Your body will heal. 

The frailty you feel 

a reminder you're strong.

This time overlong 

has us in a cage, 

our wounds to assuage 

by mutual compassion. 

In time, we will fashion 

a world more in pulse

with our natural impulse

 

And it will be beautiful. 

The perfection of rhyme 

only lasts for a time; 

life isn't pure symmetry, 

still, strive we for clarity. 

Like a ripple through water

disruption can alter 

the way things exist, 

but the beat will persist. 

 

Start with an act

to remember this fact;

keep nature's pact 

 

And it will be beautiful. 

CONTRIBUTORS

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