SERENDIPITOUS SPACES spring 1998 / planet of the arts 31 By Lionel Doe isten... do your hear the sirens? They’re coming for us all. At least that’s how I feel, and if youre anything like me, it comes from that familiar feeling of the end of another school year. The accumulation of a year’s worth of hard work, let downs, criticisms, turmoil (not to mention plagues of personal dilemmas of the scariest variety), are all topped off by the unknown that awaits with the arrival of May. It’s hard enough work to deal with all of that, and the financial burden that lingers over most of us makes it almost unbearable. Believe me, I know. I know all about that long walk to the bank machine to extract the last five dollars in the account. The longer walk from there to the bar to spend it on alcohol — the justification being that alcohol is the bearer of life knowledge in its truest form. Surely this seemingly irresponsible expenditure will promote ideas as to how to get a handle on your finances... starting tomorrow. Take a moment to clear your head and relax. Think of an alternate approach to your life philosophy in order to simply live. Otherwise the questions fly at you from all corners of the room in bold fonts like a bad surrealist dream — Rent? Hydro? Phone? And finally — Food? Not that one End of the School Year End of the Worl needs to eat or sleep during the month of April. We live on the adrenaline and endorphins that sur- round the atmosphere of harsh deadlines. That crazed look in the eyes of students as they run through the hallways at two in the morning, slam- ming doors and pulling their hair out in clumps is proof of that. There is an overwhelming sense of energy in the air. Our battered bodies eat it up hun- grily and just as quickly throw it back into our art- work, just another ingredient to add to the stew that Harsh deadlines strike crazed looks in the eyes of students as they run through the hallways at 2 a.m. is made up of the rest of our lives throughout the school year. I’m here to sympathize with you. I feel your pain. We are involved. We are involved in the deepest sense of the word. We are students of art. Enslaved by our ideas. We are paying for this. Again, if you're like me, you question this once in awhile. If you're like me, you question it when you're most broke. Like now. So the pain continues, time passes, the year goes by and the artwork gets finished. We move on and survive. But what if we don’t? What if we starve? Is it possible? What if I walked through those front doors and saw five or six people suddenly col- lapse, a small pile of malnourished skin digging through their mail boxes in hopes of finding the sacred white envelope hopefully containing a bur- sary? Or what if some crazed photo students, still high on developing chemicals sud- denly stormed the cafeteria for the lentil soup? Is that possible? What about ten years from now? It scares me a little. This is when the idea to make a film about it strikes me and I hate myself for the very dis- tracting nature of being an artist, I never answer any questions, I just find more to ask. Are you with me on this peo- ple, or am | alone on this neurotic journey? Let’s just remind ourselves of the progress we have made. The personal growth we achieved while our bank statements say otherwise. Probably your work has gotten better. Probably you met some cool people, perhaps you have even learned something. I know I have, yet as I sit here, with my last loonie in the world loose in my front pocket I really have to ask, “What the hell are we doing to ourselves?” I’ve read of more efficient torture. I know of cheaper deaths. Can it be that this is the life lesson we're here for? Have we put ourselves to the ultimate test of our conviction in our art? If we truly give our all in the face of poverty and yes, starvation, then are we worthy of the title, “artist”? This is very likely, and I ILLUSTRATION BY SUEZ HOLLAND | have to say that I am impressed with you all. Everyday I walk through those front doors and you are all still here, it is a triumph of magnificent pro- portions, You're almost finished. You survived. So pour on young soldiers! Give it all you have because it must be worth it, and even if it’s not it’s too late to quit. So as I write this, pen in one hand, beer in the other, I toast to you. You're strong. You're cool. I hope the paintings get finished, I hope your photo crits go well, I hope your film is done in time for the media show, I hope the infection clears up, I hope this article is finished in time to make the deadline. So here’s to us and our moments of truth. Congratulations on another disturbing year. Ol By Hannah Bates Butthead Hangouts e who create “the smoker” need to transform our sta- ture. We need to rearrange the rules of “the smoke”. If you want to be good at the things that you set fire to, then smoke with style, not hastily, but slowly, burning and enjoying every centimeter of chemical- ly treated paper. We know we are addict- ed.-As true. “smokers” we jeopardize our lives inhaling great clouds of “the smoke.” We know that eventually, if we don’t stop, it may kill us. Yet, we light up, we enjoy our addiction. But still, in the best of situations we are lucky if we can “smoke”, let alone enjoy the Tobacco that God gave us in the first place. So much of our smoking selves is controlled by location. Things could be dif- ferent though, if we had some room to PHOTOGRAPHS BY HANNAH BATES breathe, if we were allowed to gracefully exhale. Smokers, join together to preserve our serendipitous smoking environments! Let us take back “the smoke.” Let them butt out. ©! - Studio space belonging Damon Crain, Emily Carr institute, 4th Year, School of Studio Arts. SERENDIPITOUS SPACES spring 1998 / planet of the arts 34 By Lionel Doe inten. do your hear the siens? Theyre coming for us al. teas that's how Ie and if you're anything like me, it comes rom that familiar feling of the end of another school year. The acumulaton of a year’s worth of hard work, let downs ertcisms, turmoil (not to mention plagues of personal dilemmas of the scariest variety), are all topped off by the tanknown that awaits with the arial of May Is hard enough work to deal with all ofthat, and the nancial burden that lingers over most of us makes it almost ‘unbearable. Believe me, I know. I know all about that long walk to the bank machine to extract the Tas five dollars inthe account. The longer walk from thereto the bar to spend it on alcohol =the justification being that alcohol the bearer of ife knowledge in its truest form. Surly this semingly irresponsible expenditure will promote ides a 10 how to get a handle on your finances... starting tomorrow. Take a moment to clear your head and relax Think of an altemate approach to your life philosophy in order to simply live. Otherwise the questions By at yu from ll coener ofthe room in hold fonts lke a bad surtealist dream ~ Rent? Hydro? Phonet And finally ~ Food? Not that one End of the School Year End of the World nceds to eat o ep during live on the adrenaline and endorphins that su month of April. We round the atmosphere of harsh deadlines. That crazed look in the eyes of students a6 they run hough the hallways at two in the morning slam ming doors and pulling their hair out in clumps is proof of that. There isan overwhelming sense of ‘nergy in the air. Our battered bodies eat it up hun ily and jst as quickly throw it back into our at ‘work just anther ingredient to.add tothe stew hat Harsh deadlines strike crazed looks in the eyes of students as they run through the hallways at 2 a.m. {is made up of the rest of our lives throughout the ‘choo year 'm here to sympathize with you fel your pain ‘We are involved. We ae involved inthe deepest sense of the word. We are students of at Enslaved by our ideas. Weare paying for ths. Again if youre like me, you question this once in awhile. If youre like me, you question i when youlre most broke. front doors and sw five or sx people suddenly ol lapse, 2 small pile of malnourished skin digging through their mail Boxes in hopes of finding the sacred white envelope hopefully containing a bur sary? Or what if some crazed photo students, sill high on developing chemicals sud dent stormed the cafeteria forthe lentil soup? Is. that possible? What about ten yeas from now? scares me a itl. This is when the dea to make film abou it strikes me an I hate myself for the very dis tracting nature of being an artist 1 never answer any questions, just find more ak, Ate you with me on this peo ple, or am Ialone on this neurotic journey? Let's just remind ourselves ofthe progress we have made. The personal growth we achieved while ‘our bank statements sy otherwise. Probably your work has gotten better Probably you mt some coal peopl, perhaps yu have even learned something. 1 now [ave et as Lit er, with mys loonie in the world loose in my front pocket I really have to ask "What the hell are we doing to ourselves?" ve read of more effcient torture | know of cheaper