From left to tight: Mr. Noboragama, Mike Haller, Mike Haller interviewed by Pravin Death, internality, organic machinery — Mike Haller’s ceramic sculptural forms incorporate a restraint that makes manifest the dark internal workings of the human psyche. | met Mike while on one of those intense gallery crawl nights where it seems that every artist in town has decided to participate in a show. While at the Dynamo Art Gallery, | was drawn into Mike's studio space — | don't think he was even part of the show that | went to see. But his work spoke to something in me. Mike's work begins with press molded bones cast from a human skeleton. From these inte- rior components, supernatural bodies evolve into new forms on his studio bench. He said that his real breakthrough in his work came after he started working at a hospital. Previously he formed vertebrae from slabs of clay cut from thrown cylinders. With access to a skeleton he was able to create new creatures from press molded bones. Mike points me to a work table showing me his early work. These early human biomorphs were small and con- structed to sit comfortably on a desk. We turn to face a wall to which his next generation of constructions are bolted. Haunting elongated spinal columns of some giant humanoid. According to Mike , the hospital environment . of “disease and carnage” exerts itself continu- ously in his world. He went on to explain that these experiences are intensified by the impressions of hollowed human forms inhab- iting the alleys of Main and Hastings near his studio. Reflecting for a moment he starts to talk about how the junkies on the street cont. p.17... Ss 5 8 &s A Be) i} ES un UYU Lo a5 oO x me 30 2 aM wa reviewed by Kelly Phillips Turn right off Vancouver's Main Street past the provincial courthouse, brush by the junkies on cellphones and enter a heavily postered storefront just doors from the Harbour Light Mission. Inside the Crying Room overstuffed sofas, a makeshift kitchen, and a claw-footed bathtub create a surreal backdrop for the works of the five artists in Localizing Features and Surgeries. Together, Emma Howes, Devon Gifford, Nyla Raney, Elizabeth Zvonar, and Sam McMillan form a collaborative group that showed indi- vidual and collective works ranging from drawing, artists’ books, and mixed media sculpture as part of the Swarm series of events. A dominant theme among the works was the wound of childhood as experienced in a world of fractured social relations and rapid technological change. Devon Gifford’s stuffed assemblages with their odd numbered legs and partial latex coverings evoked pity for the genetic orphans produced in bio-engineering labs (in the postmodern nursery children com- fort animals from the injury of their man-made deformities), while Emma Howes’ spare human body diagrams hinted at states of being unimagined by the medical or social sci- ences. In a series of densely rendered graphite drawings Sam McMillan's hairless, hinge- limbed doll-child staggered through a surreal- ist nightmare, certain that "its god did not love him." Any nostalgic impulse was correct- ed through altered books such as My First Bible and The Happy Valley Animal Farm whose pages announce that "Crime Doesn't Pay" and "Neither Does Farming." cont. p.17... Thundering Word Heard reviews eramic; My God Does Not Love Me, Sam McMillan, Drawing; T.Paul Ste. Marie hosting Spoken Word at Café Monmarte reviewed by Ocean Dionne Café Monmarte - Jan 14th, Sunday 9p.m. | arrive and the joint is packed. It is my first time here, and because | am late | walk in ten- tatively. | find my friend Cass King waving me to the seat she has saved. The stage is backed up against the main street window, so that we see the performers in front of the passers-by as they mingle with the smoking section peer- ing in from the brisk January sidewalk. The first treat of the evening is a medley of song — original and borrowed — and spoken word. The performer is head to toe in red, Miss Noelle Pion. This woman has a presence. The stage is lit with red lights adding to the ambiance, making for a surreal yet flattering glow. The second treat, a national favorite, The Shane. Mixing “a dose of reality” with humour and impeccable timing. The audience is lending their enthusiastic response to his upcoming CD. Last | heard, the release date is Valentines Day (for all of you romantics dis- guised as cynics). The charismatic host of the evening is T. Paul Ste. Marie he delivers his version of road rage from the pedestrian perspective (some thing | can relate to since my Vespa is in the midst of repair) with jazz piano accompaniment. Up next is the fabulous Cass King. | think that may be her official title? Not because she is my friend, | was introduced to her that way. Accompanying Cass, is C.R. Avery and The cont. p.17... ‘Mike Haller interviewed by Pravin Death, internality, organic machinery ~ Mike Haller’s ceramic sculptural forms incorporate a restraint that makes manifest the dark internal workings of the human psyche. | met Mike while on one of those intense gallery craw! nights where it seems that every artist in town has decided to participate in a show. While at the Dynamo Art Gallery, 1 was drawn into ‘Mike's studio space ~ | don't think he was even part of the show that | went to see. But his work spoke to something in me. ‘Mike's work begins with press molded bones cast from a human skeleton. From these inte- rior components, supernatural bodies evolve into new forms on his studio bench. He said that his real breakthrough in his work came after he started working at a hospital Previously he formed vertebrae from slabs of lay cut from thrown cylinders. With access to a skeleton he was able to create new creatures from press molded bones. Mike points me to a work table showing me his early work. These early human biomorphs were small and con- structed to sit comfortably on a desk. We turn to face a wall to which his next generation of constructions are bolted. Haunting elongated spinal columns of some giant humanoid, According to Mike , the hospital environment of “disease and carnage” exerts itself continu- ously in his world. He went on to explain that these experiences are intensified by the impressions of hollowed human forms inhab- iting the alleys of Main and Hastings near his studio. Reflecting for a moment he starts to talk about how the junkies on the street cont p.t7 @+4 From lett right: Mr. Noboragame, Mike Haller, Ceramic; My God Does Not Love Me, Sam McMilan, Ora lage Show 5 & z : 8 s u ry a Small Book and Cc Local reviewed by Kelly Phillips Turn right off Vancouver's Main Street past the provincial courthouse, brush by the junkies ‘on celiphones and enter a heavily postered storefront just doors from the Harbour Light ‘Mission. Inside the Crying Room overstuffed sofas, a makeshift kitchen, and a claw-footed bathtub create a surreal backdrop for the works of the five artists in Localizing Features and Surgeries. Together, Emma Howes, Devon Gifford, Nyla Raney, Elizabeth Zvonar, and Sam McMillan form a collaborative group that showed indi- vidual and collective works ranging from drawing, artists’ books, and mixed media sculpture as part of the Swarm series of events. A dominant theme among the works was the wound of childhood as experienced in ‘a world of fractured social relations and rapid technological change. Devon Gifford's stuffed assemblages with their odd numbered legs and partial latex coverings evoked pity for the genetic orphans produced in bio-engineering labs (in the postmodern nursery children com: fort animals from the injury of their man-made deformities), while Emma Howes’ spare human body diagrams hinted at states of being unimagined by the medical or social sci ences. In a series of densely rendered graphite drawings Sam McMillan's hairless, hinge- limbed doll-child staggered through a surreal- ist nightmare, certain that "its god did not love him." Any nostalgic impulse was correct- ed through altered books such as My First Bible and The Happy Valley Animal Farm whose pages announce that "Crime Doesn't Pay" and "Neither Does Farming." cont p17 wing; T-Paul Ste. Marie hosting Spoken Word at Café Monmarte reviews ‘Thundering Word Heard reviewed by Ocean Dionne Café Monmarte - Jan 14%, sunday 9p.m. | arrive and the joint is packed. It is my first time here, and because I am late | walk in ten- tatively | find my friend Cass King waving me to the seat she has saved. The stage is backed up against the main street window, so that we see the performers in front of the passers-by as they mingle with the smoking section peer- ing in from the brisk January sidewalk. The first treat of the evening is a medley of song ~ original and borrowed — and spoken word. The performer is head to toe in red, ‘Miss Noelle Pion. This woman has a presence. The stage is lit with red lights adding to the ambiance, making for a surreal yet flattering glow. The second treat, a national favorite, The Shane. Mixing “a dose of reality" with humour and impeccable timing. The audience is lending their enthusiastic response to his upcoming CD. Last | heard, the release date is Valentines Day (for all of you romantics dis- guised as cynics). The charismatic host of the evening is T. Paul Ste. Marie he delivers his version of road rage from the pedestrian perspective (some thing | can relate to since my Vespa is in the midst of repair) with jazz plano accompaniment Up next is the fabulous Cass King. | think that may be her official title? Not because she is my friend, | was introduced to her that way. Accompanying Cass, is C.R. Avery and The Cont. p.17