Living Hyphen launches its third magazine issue, ‘Healing Across Generations’

By: Anna-Giselle Funes-Eng

Jocelyn Yu speaks about her experience watching Living Hyphen grow at Page One Café in Toronto, on Oct. 28, 2022. (Anna-Giselle Funes-Eng/Canculture)

Content Warning: This piece discusses generational trauma.

There is an ever-present longing for what has been taken away and left behind that Canadian immigrants and people who have experienced displacement know well. It runs deep through generations, and many of them turn to art as a healer and outlet. The voices of those Black, Indigenous and peoples of colour (BIPOC), whose “home” is somewhere in between cultures, often go unheard and grossly underrepresented.

Living Hyphen is a community that serves as a safe space for those voices and seeks to nurture and amplify them through its writing workshops and literary magazine. Their third printed publication, “Healing Across Generations” was released on Oct. 28. It features 60 pieces of prose, poetry, short stories and photography.

The launch was marked with a party at Page One Café near the Toronto Metropolitan University campus, where I got the chance to speak to founder Justine Abigail Yu, who launched Living Hyphen with its first magazine issue in 2018.

Yu said she created Living Hyphen to bridge the gap between the lack of mainstream representation of everyday immigrant and BIPOC stories and the many people looking to share their experiences. For this edition alone, they received around 800 submissions, according to Yu.

“There are people out there who need that extra push, that nurturing, because our society has not nurtured Indigenous, Black and racialized writers and storytellers ... honestly, that’s been the drive for me,” Yu expressed.

Justine’s mother, Jocelyn Yu, known affectionately in the community as Mama Yu, is Living Hyphen’s publisher, investor and self-proclaimed “Money Mama.”

Mama Yu said that through growing Living Hyphen along with her daughter, she has learned and unlearned so much. It has brought her peace in her journey of healing.

“I’ve always believed that healing is not possible unless you know the past,” Mama Yu said.

There is an ever-present longing for what has been taken away and left behind that Canadian immigrants and people who have experienced displacement know well

Many of the featured artists focused not only on the hurt of having to leave home, but the disconnect from the culture that comes with it.

May Lui, a contributor for Living Hyphen, explored searching for healing in connection in her piece. She wrote about her two grandmothers and reconciling with the Chinese grandmother she never knew.

For Lui, writing about her experience with loss and hearing of others' similar journeys through platforms like Living Hyphen, has been a source of healing.

“You heal through time, you heal through talking about it, you absolutely heal through writing,” Lui said.

Jen Phuong Tran, a Toronto based artist and ceramist, reads her piece “Roots” at Page One Cafe in Toronto, on Oct. 28, 2022. (Anna-Giselle Funes-Eng/Canculture)

As someone who identifies as BIPOC and biracial, I’ve always identified with both sides of myself culturally, but have never felt fully connected or seen.

I don’t often see myself reflected in the people around me or in the stories I’ve read. I don’t speak Cantonese or Spanish and it’s always been hard for me to communicate and connect with my family. I’ve always felt split down the middle. I grew up feeling as though I existed somewhere liminal: in the indeterminable in-between of my cultures. It is rare to see myself represented.

As I stood surrounded by people sharing their stories of healing out loud, I finally felt heard. I used to think I was alone in those experiences.

Representation in art serves as a powerful reminder that no one is alone.

The trauma of generational hurt can be reclaimed as something that fosters community as we set out to heal. Searching for parts of ourselves that have been lost to upheaval and oppression; reclaiming that power is a resistance to every and any force that would set out to keep us silent.

By Mia Maaytah

It is half-way through my third year of university, and once again I am experiencing that same dwindling in my creativity that I face every winter season.

As an artist, I am finding that in the winter my creative side is very much unreachable, and though this occurs every year, I still try and hold on to my optimism.

I buy a canvas. I mix my paint. I fill a dirty cup with water and a clean cup with tea and I begin staring at the fresh, stark-white square in front of me finding no inspiration in my head whatsoever.

During this season, I find no encouragement from my surroundings. I enter a routine of only existing in my lecture halls and across from the television, resting my hands on my laptop, and feeling ever so secluded from the world of imagination I’ve been locked out of.

The isolation from “art-ing,” however seems to be universal. It is as if Instagram feeds bloom in the summer with finished paintings and new poetry, yet in the winter we only speak of art through festive decorations and the blank pages and notebooks are seen as something you’ll eventually get to.

Bella Giammarco, a cosmetology student at Sheridan College, finds that the winter season is a time that holds minimal artistic excitement due to its desolate climate.

“I like to work with colour, so during the winter it’s kind of hard to be exposed to all of those vibrant colours that do inspire me,” Giammarco said.

Specializing in makeup, Giammarco’s style is full of exaggerated pigments and heavy contrasts between bright and subtle shades. In many of her looks, she focuses on incorporating environmental influences, inspiration from fellow makeup-artists, and seasonal depictions.

“My favourite place to create and perform is in places that I’m surrounded with good energy,” she said. “I think that flowers or just colourful environments inspire me and I just find that in the winter I’m not as exposed to it.”

Giammarco explained that during the winter, there is not much activity within the wilderness, where she would usually find her muse. Thus, when she finds no luck outside or on the internet, this leads to a lack of idea development altogether and hinders her artistic progress.

Many artists view summer differently. Where some, like Giammarco, use it as inspiration to feed off from and translate into her creations, others use it for the environmental freedom and energy that allows them to create within it.

Toronto-based visual artist, Ziggo, said that the summer season offers a wider range of how to conduct a creative session.

“I like to paint outside sometimes, and that’s not possible in the winter,” he said. “My favourite place to create is spray painting outdoors. [It’s] kind of hard to do indoors.”

Ziggo is a street-artist that specializes in making massive murals that he strategically installs around the city and also commissions to clients. His inspiration is said to come from hip-hop, Indigenous culture, and street-culture.

“I find in the summer I just have more energy and feel more inspired by living life more versus the hibernation of winter,” he said. “I need to be excited and happy about the idea.”

For myself, summer is an awakening of ideas. It is the time of celebration where I can come back to myself and forget the dreadful cycle of school days and work nights. Whether I am outside painting or painting the outside, the summer allows for a sense of flexibility in my process.

However, not all artists find solace in the summer. As many attend school to study their art for the majority of the year, summer may come as a time of separation from the nagging obligation to create and a time to rest.

Calvin Rea, a fine-arts Ryerson University graduate, said that due to the nature of school, young artists may be trained to think more creatively during the winter due to mandatory assignments, yet lack that motivation in the summer because they are not used to it or may need some time away.

“Having gone to theatre school where eight months of the year are kind of a boot camp, by the time the summer hits you want nothing to do with creativity,” said Rea.

Rea, who spent his time studying acting and playwriting, also suggests that for him, creativity coincides with mood, and that not every project is dependent on the same external force.

“I think a huge factor in fluid creativity is feeling good,” he said. “Summer and spring are more conducive to that kind of environment because it’s nice outside; you don’t feel so claustrophobic and you feel good in the sun. But also sometimes the projects you’re working on can be a bit of sanctuary from the weather or season outside.”

For some, winter is a time that brings people together through family gatherings, holidays, and an opportunity to wrap yourself up in a blanket and forget about the world.

For artists, however, this seems to be the time for a lot of thinking and minimal doing. For me, I understand that there may be no end to this art-block, but perhaps I could benefit from my time away from the dirty hands and the paint-ridden floor.