In the heart of Toronto, the freaks and ghouls roam the streets… and the nightclubs!

By: Klea Pinari

The first chilling strum of gothic guitar is your opening to a world of darkness – a world cloaked in black, but one that still feels unequivocally bright.

When many people hear the word ‘goth,’ they conjure the same image: skin pale as a ghost, eyelids painted jet black. All that comes to mind is a jarring set of traits, a bold and enthusiastic stand against mainstream culture.

This image is, more or less, an accurate depiction of many goths in the scene. However, the core of goth culture is not their heavy eyeliner or their billowy Victorian sleeves, even though style is an important aspect of being goth. The core of the culture itself is the music.

The goth scene is a revolutionary subculture that started its journey back in the ‘70s before bursting into the ‘80s with flair. Goth music originated in the U.K. as a result of the post-punk movement, blooming into a large scope of closely related genres that all held the same musical heart.

Some of the most iconic musicians making up the goth scene include Bauhaus, Siouxsie and the Banshees, the Cure and Joy Division. Genres including post-punk and dark wave, along with glam rock and hard rock, are key components of goth’s musical sound and some of the driving forces behind the creation of goth rock. These genres are saturated with moody and experimental resonance. Goth music is unique in the way that it does not bend to the will of any conventional sound – it simply hands itself to the listener.

This music does it all and explores the dark crevices of musical sounds and themes that popular music is too afraid to peer into. The harsh melody of the distorted guitar and the lilted tune of the singer’s voice come together to create an experience that can only be explained in simple words: haunting and beautiful.

Goth first emerged in Toronto in the ‘80s, but it wasn’t always known as goth. Toronto goths go by a handful of names, including “Batcavers,” as stated by the Encyclopedia Gothica. Batcavers is an ode to The Batcave, a London club that kickstarted the goth movement.

Goth music brought forth a culture of goth clubbing, followed by goth dancing and accentuated by goth fashion. The defining feature of each is goth’s incessant need to be completely authentic.

Clubbing is not only an integral part of the goth scene, it’s the home for all things goth. In the ‘80s, there was an influx of after-hours alternative clubs, as discussed by journalist and DJ Denise Benson in her article Then & Now; Voodoo, which highlighted the history of one of the early Toronto clubs named Voodoo. Many other clubs could be found along Queen Street West and other parts of downtown Toronto, playing underground goth rock, post-punk and more.

Some of the most iconic clubs included Sanctuary: Vampire Sex Bar and Nocturne, which could be heard booming into the early hours of the morning with the beat of stripped drums. These clubs unified the lonely Toronto batcavers under the safety of the music and a shared understanding of their darker side. For the first time, a goth community was formed with like-minded people who simply wanted to enjoy the noise.

Goth dancing was all the rage in the clubs. The style was very distinct and bizarre, as is everything that has to do with goths. It was an erratic flailing of arms, movements that flow followed immediately by stuttering movements that jerk, a haunting amalgamation of feelings in the form of dance. These dances could range from anything between stomping your feet and banging your head aggressively, to languidly letting your hands move in any direction they want. Goth dancing is all about feeling the music and moving exactly in the way your heart tells you to.

Very soon, Queen Street West was crawling with Batcavers. In 1988, they officially adopted the term “goths.” But even before identifying as goths, they had a third, more intimate name for themselves: freaks. This label was not derogatory; in fact, it was a badge of honour for all those who wore it, and it remained as such through the ensuing decades. The term freak was an embrace of the authentic and off-putting nature of their existence.

Goth music sang of the strange, the sickly, and the sexy. It was a medium for liberation in a new unusual light. Being a freak was a rejection of the societal norms of the ‘80s and ‘90s and an acceptance of the values of goth music: an all-inclusive, queer, sexually liberated form of art. The label was a representation of the darkness and strangeness of the genre, which was exactly what made — and continues to make — the music so beautiful.

Artists such as Masochistic Religion and Vampire Beach Babes were some of the goth bands that emerged in Canada during the height of the movement. They made numerous references to monsters and vampires in their art. The existence of creatures of the night is a frequent goth symbol and helps to characterize the idea of the “other.” These monsters are given the spotlight in goth music, acting as guiding lights for the freaks to express themselves for who they really are, no matter how the rest of the world reacts to them.

Though the goth scene has died down since the ‘80s and ‘90s, there are still pockets of belonging peeking through the dark crevices. Sanctuary and Nocturne have both closed down, but there are new clubs in their place, teeming with the life of the undead. See-Scape is one of the clubs that remain to preserve goth culture, but there are also goth events at venues such as The Garrison and Bovine Sex Club.

Canadian artists like Dermabrasion and ACTORS are still active and create music that captures the essence of goth rock and all the other genres that make up the goth music scene. The decline in goths wandering down Queen Street West is exactly why it’s important for there to be new artists continuing to pave these pockets of belonging. Lol Tolhurst, drummer and co-founder of The Cure, said that goth was still alive and well through new artists, despite it not looking the same as when he was at the forefront of the movement.

“I see all these people live in small places — their way out was us (The Cure),” he said in an interview with CNN. “I’m very honored and proud of that. That’s what keeps (goth) going.”

Goth music uses its doom and gloom as a means to explore the uncanny, to welcome the freakish and the bizarre. It’s not consumed by the darkness – it’s uplifted and inspired. It’s haunted. It’s beautiful.

Referring to a multitude of historical archives, an engaging new exhibit creates a stage for the untold stories of European history

By: Teresa Valenton

Gibson invites audiences to immerse themselves in his exhibition through the use of familiar mediums such as stickers, posters and furniture. (Teresa Valenton/CanCulture)

By creating interactive spaces for the general public to immerse themselves in, a New York-based artist facilitated an accessible space for marginalized communities at Toronto’s Museum of Contemporary Art (MOCA).

On March 10, MOCA launched their spring exhibitions featuring headlining artists such as Shirin Neshat with Land of Dreams, Felix Gonzalez-Torres’ Summer and Jeffrey Gibson’s I AM YOUR RELATIVE. Throughout each floor, the artists present their ideas through unique mediums, while a recurring theme of connection weaves itself through them all seamlessly.

As each artist shares “emotional portraits” by immersing viewers into the art, MOCA has become a space for self-exploration and enlightenment.

At the unveiling of his first exhibition at MOCA, Jeffrey Gibson, an interdisciplinary artist based in Hudson, New York and member of the Mississippi Band of Choctaw Indians and Half Cherokee, transforms the first floor of the gallery into a visual archive to uplift Indigenous, Black, Brown and queer voices.

Situated on the gallery’s free admission first floor, Gibson utilizes historical archives and bright stages to recall the ways in which history has been told.

Rendering photographs of Indigenous, Black, Brown and queer people, Gibson faciliates a space to provide comfort to those who have felt silenced. (Teresa Valenton/CanCulture)

“Knowing that this space is open and available and free to the public was something we wanted to make available for multiple ages. I guess this was an accessible way for people not to feel intimidated by an art space to make them feel comfortable,” said Gibson.

As the exhibition unfolds over the upcoming months, performers such as Amplified Opera, a Toronto-based opera company, and Emily Johnson, an American dancer of Yup’ik descent, will bring in other narratives of history through unique performances.

Inspired by his own artistic practices over the last 15 years, Gibson incorporated furniture that viewers could curate experiences out of. Incorporating pillows into each “stage,” he encourages viewers to become comfortable within his work.

Referencing his previous work To Name An Other: Call for Performers by the National Portrait Gallery in 2019, Gibson presents a crossover between art and audience involvement. The craft comes from allowing individuals to be observed through their actions, Gibson said.

Gibson invites his audience to partake in his exhibit by using comfy, colourful pillows. (Teresa Valenton/CanCulture)

In utilizing public spaces, Gibson presents history through the use of public archives. While referencing stories rooted in Indigenous cultures of the Americas, he gravitates towards certain materials such as stickers and rendered photographs. When reminiscing about the poster walls of his teenage bedroom, Gibson relates it back to the found materials for I AM YOUR RELATIVE.

“I like the negative spaces as other information peeks through, and then the local contributions that we receive will enter into programming to see what they have contributed,” Gibson said.

Though the pandemic took an effect on the production of this series, reconfiguring ideas and communicating with performers took roughly 18 months, Gibson said. All images that were used had to be formatted along with the stage designs in accordance with his creative vision.

Travel restrictions slowed down the momentum but his team was eager to pick up the project. All members took precautions and relied on transparency throughout the project, forming a community in the process, Gibson said.

When considering perspective, Gibson encourages viewers to take enjoyment in his work, “I think it’s a place for people who have differences who believe that these differences are tremendously rich and add to our culture.”

Continuously shocked at the prejudices that remain intact, Gibson feels as if the treatment of Black, Brown, Indigenous and queer folks should have culturally progressed. However, with the relationship between research and art, Gibson is reminded that images can appear both abrasive and empowering to different audiences.

Presenting the relevance of this piece, Gibson marks history through a multifaceted expression of today.

“There are emotions; there are facts; there are lies. So I see it as generating media to help describe the moment as if someone was looking back at it.”