Bridging the gap for Black Canadian creatives

Immersive media lab program offers opportunities for Black creatives to experiment in VR technology

By Jasmine Makar

One of three VR projects this year, called Audio Odyssey, presented at this year’s final showcase event on March. 28, 2024, at the Canadian Film Center (Image Courtesy of Kaku Kenyi)

In the relatively new world of immersive media production and digital storytelling, getting a foot in the door within the industry can be challenging, especially with financial, racial and time constraints. Building a space for up-and-coming creatives to learn and create tangible prototypes and receiving guidance from mentors can encourage new talent in the industry. 

Within three years, the OYA Black Arts Coalition (OBAC) and the Canadian Film Centre (CFC) have created a five-month-long intensive incubator program to allow black creators to experiment and create something new within the competitive field. 

The immersive media lab program created by OBAC and CFC ran their final cohort of participants this year with 11 new faces separated into three groups. Each group decided on their own theme to implement in a virtual or augmented reality environment. 

A previous participant and current program lead of the immersive media lab, Valerie Amponsah, explained the benefit of this program for the industry as well as the individual level.  

“This program is impacting the industry as it's giving folks, specifically Black-owned media companies, a chance to be in this relatively new industry, and I think that's important because we need to have our perspective shown when it comes to different storytelling,” said Amponsah. 

Acting as a stepping stone for creators, the program's structure consists of mentorship, networking, and the learning and knowledge aspect, resulting in participants having a tangible prototype using their ideas in VR. Participants in the immersive experience also hear from guest speakers with industry experience. Many speakers have been welcome, including  Emmy-winning filmmaker Tamara Shogaolu and Grammy-winning music producer Young Guru. 

Although this opportunity is fast-paced, it comes at no expense to the participants because of the support from government funding through the Black Entrepreneurship Program Ecosystem Fund. It eliminates financial barriers in an otherwise expensive industry to promote inclusivity and representation.

This year, the three teams developed creative and innovative ideas for their VP/AR prototypes. Meditation, music production, and space are all ideas that this year’s cohort has developed to come to life and extend beyond the program. Working as a team and interacting and learning from mentors allows participants to broaden their scope and reach into their preferred area while still having a space to experiment. 

“It's helped me in the sense that it gave me a community to get started in the tech industry and particularly the gaming industry as well,” said Debbie Deer. “Just getting to meet people who are like me in the sense that we have similar backgrounds and we have similar goals.”

Debbie Deer, who was a past participant and a current mentor in the immersive media lab, shared her growth because of the program and the opportunities it has given her to grow her career and find a community. 

“After doing this programme, they're part of the OBAC family, and being part of the OBAC family means the support always continues on and on throughout their career,” said Amponsah, adding that, unlike other programs, the immersive media lab continues to connect participants with mentors for three months after the program’s completion. 

The immersive media lab was brought to life by OBAC in partnership with CFC, and Ngardy Conteh George, a co-founder of OBAC, explained the deeper purpose and original idea behind the non-profit organization. 

“It was really born out of necessity to bring up the next generation as we were kind of growing our production company and to fill that gap, you know, after being in this industry for 20 years, just understanding how difficult it is to get that break at that start,” said George.

The importance of representation and inclusivity in this new technology space is critical, as emphasized by George, and the positive discrimination of the program allows for a safe space. 

“When you talk about new technology, it's normally whitemale-ed. And so we thought, okay, let's try to figure out ways to create opportunities for Black creatives to kind of enter the space,  experiment in the space, and just get exposure and opportunities,” said George 

The vision that brought OBAC to life and essentially created the immersive media lab has driven many alums from the immersive program to extended opportunities after the program. Currently mentoring and past participant, Deer has since created her own incorporated company and has been asked to engage in other projects and speak at conferences. 

Since graduating from the immersive media lab program, Deer has also been presented with the "Collimation Creators Grant" by Adrian Rashad Driscoll on behalf of his organization for her work in XR. 

Leading up to this year’s final showcase, as the third and final cohort of the immersive media lab, this cohort was able to experiment with actual tangible prototypes and learn from previous participants. 

“I'm really excited about this program because to see the quality of the program from year one to year two, and how I think the quality increased with the different ways we were able to support the participants. I can only imagine this year how much that has also increased by,” said George. 

When Waste Becomes Art

This Toronto centre is ‘saving the planet, one scrap, one stitch, one piece at a time’

By Raghad Genina

A shelf in the Creative Reuse Toronto centre that is filled with a variety of crafts that have been made out of repurposed materials on Monday, Feb. 29, 2024. (Raghad Genina/CanCulture)

In a facility housed under a newly built condo building in the middle of the Parkdale community, the rhythmic hum of sewing machines breaks the silence. As you enter the centre on Abell Street, you are met by floor-to-ceiling windows that bathe the place in sunlight. The sounds of the sharp edges of scissors coming together as they slice through layers of fabric and the clink of buttons, as they're being sorted into different piles, echo through the room. A wide variety of tapestries, baskets and crafts, made of repurposed materials, line the walls and shelves of the centre. Deep into the room lie countless stacked plastic containers filled to the brim with materials like yarn and different types of textiles that would have been thrown out if not for Creative Reuse Toronto. 

Unlike traditional recycling, where materials are recovered and then broken down and converted into something else, Creative Reuse Toronto keeps these materials out of landfills by repurposing them into art. Textiles like fabric take more than 200 years to decompose in landfills, making this an important initiative. A 2023 report by Fashion Takes Action, a Canadian non-profit organization focusing on ethics and sustainability in the fashion industry, estimated that about 500,000 tonnes of post-consumer clothing end up in Canada’s landfills each year. 

“We throw away things and don't realize where they're going or what their impact is,” says Helen Melbourne, retired artist and co-founder of Creative Reuse Toronto. 

  As Melbourne guides a visitor through the maze of shelves, each corner is filled with discarded items waiting to be repurposed. From stacks of abandoned fabrics to jars filled with an assortment of colourful buttons, this space is a sanctuary for those who see potential where others see waste. 

Melbourne views materials differently than most people. From baskets made out of plastic grocery bags to mats made from shreds of fabric masks and clothing made from 100 per cent repurposed textiles, when Melbourne sees any scrap material, she thinks, “What is the material? What could it be?” She says, “everything has potential.” 

This mindset has been ingrained in her since a young age. She recalls her childhood, filled with creativity. “I made my own dolls, bedspreads and even doll houses out of cardboard. It was so rewarding to do it as a child.”

The average Canadian throws away 37 kilograms of textiles each year, 95 per cent of which can be reused or upcycled. Creative Reuse Toronto is attempting to help combat this issue by taking textiles and other materials and upcycling them. 

The tipping point for Melbourne came when she took a tour of the Keele Valley landfill before it shut down in 2002. It was the largest landfill in Canada during its operation. Although she took the tour decades ago, she still remembers the moment as if it was just yesterday. She says the dump was unbelievable and overwhelming, reeking of mould. She describes it as “a colossal mess.” 

Melbourne first had the idea for the centre in 2017. She posted her idea of opening a Creative Reuse centre on Facebook to see if anyone would be interested in pursuing it with her. Now co-founder Sue Talusan responded to the post right away, as she has always been passionate about reducing waste and had worked on this issue during grad school. Talusan grew up collecting items from people's curbs and garage sales and repurposing them, just like Melbourne.  She is also currently leading the design, strategy and product development of an innovation ecosystem impact accelerator.  

After three years of talking and bonding online, they finally set up a meeting at a church near the St. George subway station where they would discuss their plans. Laughter erupts around the Creative Reuse Centre as Talusan recalls the moment when she first saw Melbourne in the church and embraced her in a big hug. “I had no idea who she was,” says Melbourne. She never knew what Talusan looked like until that moment. After that big hug, they hit it off “to the point where we were finishing each other's sentences,” says Talusan. 

As Melbourne continues to recall moments in her life when she felt she needed to help make a change, volunteers come in and out of the centre, greeting each other with excitement. Whispers can be heard amongst them about what they plan to create with all the materials that have been donated. While the volunteers continue to converse, a community member walks up to Melbourne, asking her for advice on how she would repurpose a book filled with colourful fabric samples. Melbourne, without hesitation, gives the idea of a flip book that would be filled with different images. “You were just flipping through it and it looked like a flipbook,” says Melbourne. 

“She gives good ideas. Helen is a wealth of information,” says Diane*, the community member.

Melbourne describes some of the centre's artwork. One piece was created for a person with visual impairments. It contains parts of various-textured textiles such as corduroy, shag carpet and silk that have been sewn together to help enhance a blind person's perception of tactile images. Like all the art made here, it is created out of 100 per cent repurposed fabrics.  

All the textiles and other materials in Creative Reuse Toronto have been donated by fabric stores and manufacturers that are either downsizing or closing. Some donations also come from clothing design studios, the estates of seamstresses, quilters and individuals who are clearing out their stashes. Much of their initial stock came from businesses that were closing just after the first lockdown due to the COVID-19 pandemic. During this time, businesses also donated most of the centre’s tools and equipment, such as sewing machines, storage containers, tables and art supplies like knitting needles. 

Talusan recalls that right after they signed their lease, as they were on the brink of opening, the COVID-19 pandemic hit. This set them back significantly. However, several years later, Talusan reflects on the journey of resilience that has led to the now thriving centre. During COVID-19, Creative Reuse Toronto survived because of the community's support. Donations kept this place running, and volunteers contributed not just their own time but also dipped into their own pockets to help keep the place going. Now, Talusan says that a combination of sources, such as  paid sewing classes, workshops and donations, keeps the centre open. 

Talusan looks back at a moment a few years ago when a big company offered them 60 skids of gift boxes. Although they didn't want to say no because they didn't want the boxes to end up in a landfill, they had to as they didn't have enough space for it in their centre. 

“Why would you be offering it in the first place?” asks Talusan. “The choice they made of producing too much with no repercussions. Then they try to put the responsibilities on us instead of taking responsibility for it.” 

The core of Creative Reuse Toronto is its commitment to "saving the planet, one scrap, one stitch, one piece at a time," a phrase that echoes through the centre's walls. 

“I believe in this, in a better world for both the people and the planet,” says Talusan. “In a perfect world, we would put ourselves out of business.” 

The Women Colouring Toronto with a Purpose

Women across Toronto make murals and street art to connect with and change the city 

By Rowan Flood

Jasmine Vanstone is sitting with her art for StreetARToronto's Evelyn-Wiggins cycle track near York University in June 2023. Photo taken by Gage Fletcher.

Toronto’s landscape has tall and low buildings, narrow and wide streets, houses, parks and more. Within the city's structure, there is also the opportunity for art. The art put onto the street and for the public is a way to connect, impact and change our shared spaces. The women who create street art in Toronto consider their works' potential when creating.

Connecting to those we know and those we don’t

“Community arts is a healing tool,” said Jasmine Vanstone, “To create conversations, to help with storytelling.”

Vanstone is a Jamaican-Canadian multi-disciplinary artist based in Toronto; however, that does not sum her up entirely.

“In my bio, there are like three titles,” she said with a faint giggle.

Despite talking in a soft voice that made me want to lean my ear into the speaker over a Zoom call, Vanstone's life as an artist is bold. From getting a Bachelor of Fine Arts from York University and graduating from a post-grad arts management program at Centennial College to winning countless awards and working in many positions surrounding community engagement and art education, her passion spreads far.

One of Vanstone's projects was in 2022 when she participated in the Future Without Oppression mural in Kensington Market. She described the mural as a collaborative project with Black artists who united to express their ideas and visions of a world without anti-black racism and other oppression. Vanstone worked on the ground mural, painting on the street itself.

The project allowed her to make art of her choice. Vanstone knew she did not want to paint Black bodies and explained she “didn’t want people to step on representations of Black bodies.”

Instead, she used symbols: a heart hugging the Earth with a rainbow of pink, blue and yellow spiralling throughout. She also painted a bee that was “pollinating” another artist's work.

The initiative became a space that hosted those more than surface-level exchanges, and Vanstone explained these spaces are rare. People would walk by and ask, “What does this mean to you?” allowing her to engage with fellow artists and passers-by in the area. Vanstone engaged with an entire community “to create a cohesive story.”

Creating with and for others is something familiar to Vanstone. She was a part of a mural done at the Finch TTC Station. As Vanstone talks of this mural, a smile stretches across her cheeks, and her eyes brighten. “That was so amazing,” she says warmly with an upward gaze that seems to direct the words at the world. 

The brown brick wall of the TTC’s Finch subway station she helped paint wasn’t just a wall to her. Vanstone grew up near the station. She often passes through the neighbourhood and remembers waiting for a bus across the platform. Not wanting to “accidentally stare” at people, Vanstone would stare at her surroundings: at the little shop with Korean snacks or the bus waiting area. She’s re-connected with those who’ve seen the art and reached out to her.

Her work on the subway station project allowed Vanstone to connect with neighbours and her community

“It was uplifting my community through beautifying the space,” said Vanstone.

Working with our shared city spaces

Uplifting communities and reclaiming spaces are consistent purposes of the street artists I spoke with. Even if people who see street art don’t know the artist or the exact context of the piece, it does not render the art invaluable. The possibility for a piece of street art to move someone is still there.

Vanstone explained that recognizing an art piece's beauty can make people see other beautiful aspects of their lives or environments. “It becomes more about building a sense of gratitude and gratefulness,” said Vanstone.

Changing our cities’ environment is a concept artist Monica Wickeler also thinks about.

Wickeler loves to put their art into the city's spaces. Their public work can be found in laneways, playgrounds, wading pools and, as her bio says, “anything that stays still long enough.”

Wickeler explained that street art is an opportunity to reclaim an environment. She believes that many spaces in the city are underused and brought up the “broken window effect.” For example, say a window is broken and goes unfixed, or a pile of litter goes uncleaned. , After a while, more windows will break, and more litter will accumulate. However, according to Wickeler, murals can help change this cycle.

“If you fix the window, plant some community gardens, paint some murals,” said Wickeler over a Zoom call, “Suddenly, this becomes a vibrant community space.”

They explained that a “vibrant” space can make an area more used and be a door to meeting neighbours and one's community. Wickeler acknowledged that even living in a city as populated as Toronto’s three million, people can still be isolated.

One of Wickeler's projects was a collaborative effort between artists behind the Art Gallery of Ontario in a laneway. For Wickeler's part of the mural, she painted an oversized, chunky “Shrek,” like blue hands holding a curled-up sleeping orange fox. She also added her Instagram handle to the bottom. A year after the project, they got a DM. The woman who messaged her explained that she walks by the mural almost daily with her daughter on their way to daycare. Whenever her daughter approaches the mural, she says, “Sshhhh, the fox is sleeping.”

Wickeler doesn't often get feedback on her street art. She creates murals and then leaves them for the city, but when this woman reached out, it was a connection and realization that her art was impacting people's spaces. Wickeler hopes her art makes people think, and they use bright colours to have a positive impact. She compared her street art to little “cookies,” around the city that add an extra layer of joy to people's days.

“I want them to enjoy their urban space,” they said.

Another project Wickler participated in was The Laneway Project, a way to help reclaim some laneways in local Greater Toronto Area neighbourhoods. She helped paint a healing corridor in Central Hospital Lane with artist Nyle Miigizi Johnston. They created a gateway storytelling mural at the entrance of the healing corridor.

The impact public art can have

Keitha Keeshig-Tobias Biizindam explained that her murals are “right out there in the public, and it only takes a few seconds for all the knowledge in that picture to get put in your brain.”

Biizindam is an Indigenous, Ojibwe and Delaware multidisciplinary artist based in Toronto. Right at the beginning of our conversation, she was direct about a large part of who she is.

“I do a lot of art,” she said, smiling as she spread her hands across the screen over Zoom. Art has always been a part of her life, and it was one of the fundamentals of her childhood.

When she was younger, “toys, cakes and candies” were a no, but the two things she was guaranteed to have were books and art supplies. Her passion for art allowed it to become a tool she uses to reclaim Indigenous sciences.

She recounted, with a rising voice, how her younger cousins have approached her with stories about the discriminatory things they’ve been told in school: Indigenous people don’t have science and don’t understand math. Her artwork is partly aimed at changing these outdated and stereotypical ideas. To Biizindam, murals are a way to do this.

Biizindam puts reclamation of Indigenous science into her work so everyone who passes by can think of Indigenous people in a scientific and modern framework. With little hesitation, she listed the depth of Indigenous knowledge, from topics such as animals to nature to food. She uses her work to clarify that Indigenous people are here and have contributed to our world.

In Trillium Park, Biizindam did a mural covering the four sides of a shipping container. The walls of the container are filled with pink, purple, yellow and black. However, one side is covered in white hexagons of the chemical structures of Indigenous scientific discoveries pre-contact, “so people can see something that is very scientific,” explained Biizindam.

She has left enough information in her paintings so people who witness them can research themselves. “The knowledge increases and gets bigger,” she said.

Another side of Biizindams’ mural says ‘Culture Back’. It has the silhouette of a mother and child —The mother's dark hair forms around them both like an Anishnaabe dreamcatcher, holding the mother's nightmares to be evaporated by the sunlight like dew drops.

“It talks about all those nightmares that scare Indigenous women,” she said, “It would be catching such things as birth alerts, residential school, not being able to afford your child's medical treatment.”

Biizindam creates artwork with strong messages and puts them to the public for a reason. Her artwork aims to make people reflect and learn, and she embraces creating and displaying her work in busy environments like Nuit Blanche and her Trillium Park mural.

“I’m trying to change this world,” said Biizindam firmly. “I’m trying to turn this world into a place where my children feel safe to be whatever they want to be.”

Educating people is one element of her mural work, but eliciting emotions is another. Much of Biizindam's murals feature women at the forefront, and she paints their bodies in specific postures to impact viewers. Drawing people in certain poses that indicate feelings, a head leaning downwards or arms spread far as if in flight, are potent symbols people can relate to and feel.

Colombian artist La Pupila also thinks of making people feel certain emotions. La Pupila is a visual artist based in Toronto. Despite being a tattoo artist for five years and having completed many murals and exhibited her work in a gallery, she struggles with the confidence to call herself an artist.

“Ahhh!” she laughed when I asked about her title over a Zoom call.

While she may not be able to confidently tell me she is an artist, her face and body said a lot. Her arms each have black-inked lined shapes of tattoos, and her eyes widen, animating her face as she speaks of her work.

Much of her street art is in black and white and features faces. Dark black eyebrows and intense eyes that stare at you from the wall are some characteristics of La Pupila’s mural art. She has also painted city garbage cans in bright yellow and pink, with eyes peering up from the lids. The garbage bins are a playful way of brightening a community, and the faces she paints, she hopes, make people feel a tenderness.

“You do it, and it's for the street,” said La Pupila with a smile. “Anything can happen.”

The artists' work goes out to the city and everything within it.