writer | content creator | journalist
This year Sandbox and human rights group Jayu team up to bring you the iAM 2016 gallery.
The exhibit will feature the photography of 25 youth from regions in the Middle East who have assumed refugee status in Toronto. As participants of a month-long empowerment program, they had the opportunity to explore Toronto -- from Kensington Market to the Aga Khan -- and the world of photography under the guidance of Jayu's artist mentors. The gallery is a compilation of their best work; all proceeds of the photo sales will go to them.
Join us on Saturday, August 27th at Markham House gallery to celebrate these talented and vibrant youth. Their stories will be on display so you can get to know them a little better in addition to interactive installations and art pieces designed by yours truly for a true Sandbox experience.
Click for more information & watch the video for a recap of the project so far.
Talking is too much
Today, the next day, now
If they could just
If they could direct it all that way please
I ask them not to speak of tired
but they will do it anyway, exhaustively.
A sigh could be enough for now
But littleness is too big for lonely
Like a song in space
I know we are most alone
when we do not
like a child's cheeks
like a silent film once played right here on my skin
The quiet cast a star's quality over us as we
spoke in whispered lines
written for grand scores
and signed autographs
with wet fingertips.
Sentences that I can't complete
Is it me who fell asleep?
A lifetime could be enough
I think, of quiet time
if I could spend it forgetting today.
📷 : @soteeoh \\ EDIT: me \\ Pokémon c/o Nintendo, Game Freak & Creatures. Play Safe. 📷📷
p.s. oh hello BlogTO✌️ >>
📷 : Tanya Mok
For an imaginary Japanese hair stylist magazine that specializes in punk haiku advertisement.
LINES THAT BIND NOT BOX
MINDS ENTWINED LIKE BRAIDS IN LOVE
DEATH, THE FINAL KNOT.
Two friends, two artists, two black men: Jordon and David discuss what it means to create art in a world where they feel their words will always be tinted by the colour of their skin.
Sound Journey 01 is an experimental sound I produced and edited for Sandbox just for fun. It's an unscripted recording with some rough audio patches improvised by master wordsmiths Jordon Veira, founder of Spoke N' Heard, and David Delisca, published poet. We all agreed that these types of conversations, however playful they might be, are so very necessary to broaden our horizon of perspectives and opinions. Please listen and then enjoy a roti with good friends after.
This weekend the Sandbox crew took an expedition north to Muskoka aka the Land Of Cottages And Small Diners for a three day photography adventure courtesy of Ford Motor Company. We couldn't have asked for better weather. Funyuns in tow we spent our days winding through pine-rich paths and highways lined with igneous rocks, eyes peeled on the 141 in search of the ultimate backdrop for our Ford-ly steed. We noticed we weren't the only group driving north in Explorers. Coincidence, I think not. After this weekend I think there are few vehicles that better embody the cottage experience. Needless to say @soteeoh captured some stunning shots for Ford's official #GoFurther campaign. Credit goes to our designated driver Shale of @twistemotion who drove safely and responsibly like those Spotify PSAs told us to.
Despite a jarring run-in with baby leeches at Lake Kirby and a strange cabinet full of mysterious (possibly fascist) knick knacks in the deceptively advertised AirBnb, it was a good trip. Fun fact: there is a species of Canadian bird whose cry sounds like the Chris Tucker goat. Fact.
Like the crunch of the earth as it passes underfoot, there's something tingly and fulfilling about composing photos with the mind's eye. The shapes of our Canadian Shield are deep and tall and endlessly beautiful. I was a little in *my feels* as we drove back down south, wistfully thinking of a life in the countryside and of that breakfast diner we went to that had Lion King looping on teeny tiny TVs. I will miss that place and all it's jean-clad patrons. Fun Fact 2: biker gangs exist, they are real.
Before returning to Toronto we made a pit stop in Barrie to catch the final Cavs vs. Warriors game which was a good way to end the weekend for some of us and not so much for others (sorry Shale).
We'll see you again Muskoka, stay buggy.
Grandma always threw a fit when Third Great Uncle hung his underwear up to dry outside the door. "Aiya, somebody tell him to stop," she'd plead. "Sut lai." Disgrace.
To me it was hilarious. There hung Uncle's stringy white briefs, flapping like flags in the Scarborough wind on plastic hangers for all their neighbours to see. Shuffling around in his tou hai (slippers, chanclas) collecting his laundry like fruits from a tree -- for Third Great Uncle it wasn't no thang.
When I went back to visit Hong Kong this year I realized that, like Uncle, everybody hangs their clothes up to dry. It is the thang. It's a ritual, and in order to understand human nature one must understand why mankind craves ritual. In cities plagued by whizzing cars and index crashes, the practice of keeping the hands busy and the jeans dry seems an unexpectedly reassuring thing to do. Come the monsoon months when everything stays soggy, when the subtropical moisture creeps up the walls and the Banyan trees droop down heavier than usual: that's when we lay out the drawers to catch that extra breeze.
Looking up at all that hanging glory I found a peaceful beauty in the many wifebeaters waving in unison in the dusty Asian wind. I tried to guess who owned what but it was impossible. A chubby little boy might wear a Transformer's t-shirt but so might a grandpa who works at an herb store, who's to say? In Toronto you might be able to discern somebody's personality by what they wear and how they wear it but in Hong Kong you can never really know.
What I could gather from these hangers is that these people were Chinese, full stop. I could tell because of how little shits were given. These were dim-sum eating, soup brewing, tai-chi in the park-doing Chinese folk and they knew that you knew. They didn't care that you knew because you were doing it too. Hong Kong is a transparent pig factory: everybody's business is out there whether you want to see it or not, I love it for that very reason. In Canada, nobody wants to admit things they already know. That explains why Grandma doesn't want Third Great Uncle draping his stuff all over the porch like they did back home -- it's because then they'll know that we're really Chinese, that we drink soup, that we love chi, that we wear underwear. They'll know.
All I know is that culture is a like a tree re-potted and clothes dried in the sun always smell good.
I recently had the pleasure of working with this competent-AF creative crew on the visuals of Le Fog, a soon-to-be-released track from Toronto rapper Progress. We listened to this song so many times I woke up last night screaming "FLEX!!!!" It's dance, it's vogue, it's not what you'd expect from Progress. But do expect for it to murder your replay button when it drops. The talent and professionalism in Toronto never ceases to amaze me! Looking forward to living the magic all over again. Release date TBA, stay tuned.
Thanks for dropping by. More content to come, stay tuned.