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“Ethnic outreach” project ran out BC Ministry of Advanced Education: report

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Minister John Yap and two government staffers resign

By Laura Rodgers

VANCOUVER (CUP) — A BC Liberal project using taxpayer-funded resources to mount an election campaign targeting minority voters ran out of the BC Ministry of Advanced Education with the knowledge of former minister John Yap, according to a report issued by Liberal deputy minister John Dyble.

The report, at the centre of an ongoing BC Liberal scandal, found a “serious misuse” of government time and resources to conduct party business: crafting a strategy to promote the party among BC voters who are members of ethnic minority groups.

The report said the once-secret outreach project began in 2011 within the Ministry of Jobs, Tourism and Innovation when Harry Bloy, also the minister of state for multiculturalism, held that post.
Bloy resigned from Cabinet in the spring of 2012, and John Yap took over as minister of state for Multiculturalism. Then in a summer 2012 cabinet shuffle, Yap was appointed as minister of advanced education, innovation and technology — and the ethnic outreach project followed him.

Yap had already resigned from Cabinet by the time the report’s results were made public. Two government staffers have resigned from their posts entirely in the wake of the scandal, and the Liberals
have pledged to pay back the $70,000 of taxpayer funds they spent on partisan activities.

The report notes that Yap was aware that former ministry staffer Brian Bonney frequently used his personal email address, rather than his government address, for communication about the project in order to circumvent freedom-ofinformation laws.

Yap and Premier Christy Clark have both apologized and expressed remorse over what occurred in the ethnic outreach project. However, they have both also said they had some degree of ignorance regarding the project’s activities.

The NDP expressed dissatisfaction with the outcome of the report, and they are calling for a broader investigation from an independent body.

Latest pontiff may signify change

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WEB-pope-Catholic church-flickr

SFU expert Dr. Hilmar Pabel speaks to the importance of the newly elected Pope Francis

By Leah Bjornson
Photo courtesy of Catholic Church / Flickr

The world was taken aback earlier this month when Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio, who was considered far from being a frontrunner in the papal race, greeted the Roman spectators at the Vatican as their new Pope. Despite being a “dark horse,” this humble cardinal from Argentina has already caused both Catholics and nonCatholics alike to speculate that his election might mark a shift in the Church’s future.
The need to elect a new Pope arose last month, when Benedict XVI resigned, citing a “lack of strength of mind and body.” Benedict’s marked the first papal resignation since Gregory the XII in 1415.

The initial shock felt by the world’s 1.2 billion Catholics at this news quickly gave way to speculation as to who Benedict’s successor might be: could it be Angelo Scola, the archbishop of Milan? Or Marc Ouellet, a Canadian and the Vatican’s top staff director?

This speculation proved fruitless when, preceded by a cloud of fumata bianca rising out of the Vatican chimney, Bergoglio’s election was announced.

“If one can speak of love at first sight with popes, this is one for whom you might have that feeling,” commented Hilmar M. Pabel, a professor and chair in SFU’s department of history. “The way in which he began his papacy is amazingly humble. He’s immediately created tremendous sympathy for himself, not intentionally, but his character seems so attractive.”

Bergoglio’s humility is reflected in his papal name, Francis. Some initially wondered if he had named himself after St. Francis of Assisi, a Jesuit missionary.

Though this name would have been somewhat fitting, as the Roman cardinals had gone to the ends of the world to find Bergoglio, the 226th pontiff has clarified that the connection he made was with poverty. St. Francis of Assisi, born to a well-to-do merchant family, gave up his wealth to follow Lady Poverty after hearing Jesus speak to him in a broken down chapel.

This is the first time a pope has chosen the name “Francis,” and he therefore won’t be called “Francis I” until another pontiff chooses to become “Francis II.” Pope Francis spoke about the election recently, and revealed that the decision to take the name was inspired by his friend, Brazilian Cardinal Claudio Hummes.

“When things became a bit dangerous, he comforted me, and when the vote for me reached the two-thirds majority, a moment in which the cardinals started applauding because they had chosen a pope, he hugged me, he kissed me and he said ‘don’t forget the poor,’ ” said Pope Francis, according to Christian Post.

Pope Francis’s accession to the Holy See has caused many to hope for the future of the Church, but many challenges still remain to be faced. There is the enduring problem of clerical sexual abuse, the nontransparency of the Roman curia, and the issue the role of women in the church. Questions have also been raised about the new pope’s complicity in abuses committed by the military junta in Argentina between 1976 and 1983, but the Vatican was quick to quash these rumours.

“It does look to some people as a hint of scandal, but it may be more of a fabrication than anything else,” commented Pabel. “But this happens to everyone. I’m sure you can dig up things on Andrew Petter. You don’t elevate priests to bishops if there are questionable things about their past.”

The importance of Pope Francis’s election should not be lost on Canadians, regardless of religious views.

“The fact that the pope stood up for the poor in his first press conference might make Canadians think about their involvement in the world, and reflect on their commitments to the developing world,” said Pabel. “It’s important for students, whether religious or not, to see that religion, faith, and spirituality remain powerful forces in the world, privately or publicly. The election of a pope, especially this pope, highlights that.”

“Religion is not dead. God is not dead. And Pope Francis wants this to be a power for good.”

I got 140 problems and they’re all characters

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WEB-social media-Mark Burnham

Bemoaning the modern connection between social media and success

By Alison Roach
Photos by Mark Burnham

Guys, I’m realizing something about myself, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. My name is Alison, and I’m not very good at social media.

Sure, I’ve been using Facebook since I was 14, and goddammit do I love a good hash tag, but when it comes to web interconnectivity I sometimes just don’t have the fucks to give.

It first hit me when our entire paper headed off to Toronto for a big student newspaper conference. One of the first things I learned about getting a couple hundred twenty-something journalists into a room together: the tweeting is outrageous.

The official hash tag thread of the conference was like an explosion of in-jokes, kudos, live-tweeting, and Twitpics. And while most of my newspaper buddies were eagerly thumbing out 140-character pieces of gold, I realized that I hadn’t been on my twitter account for over a year.

Coming into the news editor position this semester made social media seem a lot more important. I’d go to tweet from the @PeakSFU account and I’d realize that I didn’t really know what was appropriate to tweet about. I feel weird about posting every single news story onto our Facebook page and clogging up people’s feeds.

A lot of this is just lack of practice, but I think that some of it may be a deep-seated tendency to not want to shove myself into people’s faces. Maybe it’s shyness, or maybe it’s because when I was young I spent more time reading by myself than telling those long-winded, pointless kid-stories. If I don’t have anything interesting or relevant to say, I’m the type to not say anything at all.

But that doesn’t seem to work now, in an age where “web presence” reigns supreme. Several people lately have asked me why I don’t have a blog. A blog? I thought blogging was a fad that pretty much went extinct save from a bunch of 15-yearolds blogging pictures of attractive people in toques on Tumblr. What am I going to blog about?
I am not against social media. Far from it, I admire anyone who is savvy enough to attract an audience to witness their passing thoughts and fancies.

Maybe it’s because I’m not the greatest at it, but a little part of me resents the fact that to work in media, I have to have
that attractive, on-message profile picture. I have to create a cult of capital-P personality. And this applies to so many fields now; it seems like any sort of successful or innovative career is linked to your Twitter handle.

Notoriety that was formerly reserved for world leaders, innovators, and artists is now available to the people who write about them. A news anchor isn’t just a trusted older gentleman you see on your TV at 6 p.m. every night anymore, he’s Anderson Cooper staring up at you foxily from his pillow in his Twitter profile picture. Not that I have a problem with that — the man is good looking.

Suddenly the question is: how can you be a journalist in this day and age if you’re not live-blogging the same event that you’re planning to write about for your next issue? It all seems a little superfluous to me.

I’ve always thought of news reporting as divorced from personality. News is objective, and it shouldn’t matter where the person you’re hearing it from buys their nice soaps. Maybe this is a dated outlook. I don’t understand The View as a “news source,” and maybe I never will. That isn’t to say that I’m not trying. I try to tweet at least once a day, even if it’s just about buying soap from London Drugs.

Speech for sale

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WEB-stupid duct tape-Mark Burnham

Cheap isn’t good enough, speech has to be free

By David Dyck
Photos by Mark Burnham

Last week’s issue of The Peak featured “Hate Talk: How much freedom of speech do we deserve?” The article warned that too much freedom of speech can be a bad thing.

The author, Mohamed Sheriffdeen, compared two different cases in recent Canadian memory. The first was that of Bill Whatcott, noted anti-gay minister from Saskatchewan. He was brought to the Supreme Court of Canada and tried for the crime of hate speech.

The second case was the more recent incident involving Tom Flanagan. The former political strategist and political science professor at the University of Calgary made some comments about child pornography that received a predictably negative reaction.

The point made by Sheriffdeen is that while Whatcott’s free speech rights were removed, many in the media jumped to his aid. Meanwhile Flanagan was nearly universally crucified for his remarks. To him, this is a discrepancy, when in fact it is the principle of free speech being debated here, not the actual issues under contention.

Sheriffdeen misses this important distinction. Regardless of what you think of either of the issues under prosecution, the former was carried out by the state, where the latter was executed in the court of public opinion.

Flanagan made the remarks that he made, but he will not answer to the Supreme Court of Canada for them, whereas Whatcott already has. Certainly there were consequences for Flanagan’s actions. He publicly apologized, the CBC cut off ties with him, and he tendered his resignation from the University of Calgary.

The reason why the Whatcott case is offensive to so many people is that it is an instance of the state regulating and prosecuting speech rights. Historically, this kind of action has not ended well, and contradicts the logic behind our societal understanding of free speech.

It is the court of public opinion that ought to try cases such as these, and in Flanagan’s case, it has done an exceptional job. Where it fails, the government is not responsible, nor should it be made responsible for picking up the slack.

Perhaps Canada has decided that speech is not free, after all. What we have to ask ourselves next is a daunting question: what price are we willing to pay for it?

COLUMN: Time to trade in degrees

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Your degree is useless unless you can use it in a meaningful way

By Eric Onderwater

It doesn’t matter where you received your education, or what it says on your university diploma. It also doesn’t always matter what you know, or what you look like. These things do not lead to a job, and companies advertising for jobs do not usually look for these things.

You need to show your future employer that you have a trade. By “trade” I mean a practical, useful set of skills and knowledge that can be used to further the competitive advantage of your future employer. Such skills could include writing, accounting, applied statistics, human relations skills and more. You need to know what kind of “trade” you can offer your future employer, whether that employer be business, government or a non-profit.

Many students (and professors) foolishly believe that university is all about learning. Unfortunately, this assumption is misguided.
Yes, university is a place of learning. But it is also so much more. Universities are where
future leaders are trained and prepared for the challenges of tomorrow. More, it is a place where future leaders can build relationships with other students in their particular field. Finally, and most importantly, university is about building a foundation for successful careers, in stable, rewarding occupations (I exclude university research because it rarely has anything to do with teaching students.)

Let me repeat: learning is a positive force in our society. Every Canadian citizen should be given every opportunity to learn. But let’s remember that there are vast amounts of information available at the local public library, or even on the internet. Learning can happen anywhere. You do not need to attend university to learn, or to expand your mind.

So why attend university? Obviously, individuals attend university partly because of a desire to learn. But the vast majority of students don’t attend University to learn; they attend university to get ahead, to increase their position in society or their personal income. Frankly, that’s why I’m here. Well,
that and a strong desire to avoid a lifetime of manual labour.

If that is true, then most BA programs (among others) begin to look like a waste of time. Programs such as psychology, political science, history or even biology completely fail to teach students a marketable trade or skill. That is not to say that those programs teach nothing; it is to say that those programs have no connection to the real working world.

Worse, if students actually do find a job, they quickly realize that their BA education has no connection. I would know: I graduated with a political science degree, and I actually found a job. But nothing in my BA prepared me for what I had to face in that job, and my degree wasn’t what got me the job.

Unsurprisingly, few of my fellow students found a job. The fact is that we didn’t possess marketable, useful skills. We didn’t have a trade. University did nothing to prepare us for the real world.

My advice to students in programs with low employment prospects: understand your situation and be honest with what you want. If you’re in university simply to learn, then fine; but be ready to live with the consequences of that. If you’re in university to get a leg up in society, then you better find a way to learn a trade and market yourself into a job. Do whatever it takes, even if it means switching to a different program.

“The Pub Guy”

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WEB-Daryl Pub-Mark Burnham

By Ljudmila Petrovic
Photo by Mark Burnham

If you’ve spent any time at the Highland Pub, you’ve probably met Darryl, the man who makes a visit to the campus pub like an episode of Cheers. “I like to get to know people,” he says. “You should be able to go to a place where you’re not just another sale, not just another tip.”

Darryl started working at the pub in 1996 as a line cook after his friend got into an altercation with another employee, and Darryl was asked to step in for a shift. He was told that he’d be paid for his work at the end of the day, but that he wasn’t hired.

The next day, he got called back to work again, and again was paid, but told he was not hired. After a week of this, Darryl gave an ultimatum: call him back on Monday and hire him, or find somebody else. He’s been a presence at the Highland ever since.

He became an SFU student himself by 2000, where he changed majors several times before discovering archaeology, which he says he intuitively understood and pursued into graduate school.

“If one is observant, [the pub] can be a very anthropological setting,” he says. “My knowledge of basic primate psychology serves me right.

Like most of us, Darryl has had a wide array of jobs, including hauling scrap metal, washing cars in a car auction, and a childhood gig mowing Bill Vander Zalm’s lawn. “But I just keep coming back to the service industry for some reason,” he shrugs.

People always ask him why he’s been around for so long, and Darryl credits it to his love for working with people, the diversity of the campus pub’s staff and clientele, and the flexibility the schedule provides.

“The only continent I haven’t met somebody from is Antarctica,” he say. “But there’s no people from there.” Having such a diverse environment on campus provides tthe opportunity to interact with people you normally wouldn’t interact with and learn things you would never think to research, something that Darryl appreciates about his staff and clientele.

“For a long time, most people didn’t even know my name, I was just ‘the pub guy,’” he tells me. He recalls an instance around five years ago when he was on the 135, on a second or third date with his now fiance, and he noticed a few people pointing at him. “Look, it’s the pub guy! He’s on a date!” Darryl reenacts, laughing.

Having been around the pub for so long, Darryl has an arsenal of stories. Some he keeps to himself, waving his hand and saying he doesn’t want to embarrass anyone; others, he recollects with a chuckle, like the Saturday that Ernie Coombs (better known as Mr. Dressup) came to talk to the pub for a Q and A session.

“It was really cool to see Mr. Dressup drink a beer,” Darryl recollects. Other times, he’s found himself mitigating some interesting situations including, but by no means limited to, dealing with inappropriate happenings in the pub bathroom.

“I take the safety of the people that come here very seriously, making sure that people have a way home and doing more than just doing our due diligence,” Darryl summarizes. Over the years, his approach has been met with several instances when people have gotten angry and lashed out at him, but Darryl says that in 99 per cent of those cases, the student came back the next day to apologize. “It’s not my job to judge people. I treat everyone with respect until they act otherwise.“

Darryl is full of reminiscence, but he also looks to the future of the pub, chatting about the patio opening, plans for more live music, and how much the staff looks forward to working with the new management.

Darryl may be the friendly “pub guy,” but he’s also a fiance, a father of two, and the kind of man you would want to have your back.

Queer Quilt: A Patchwork of Stories from the LGBTQ+ Community

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queeries

Ever said or heard someone use the phrase “that’s so gay”? Ever felt trapped in a body that doesn’t feel like it should be yours? Ever been told to “man up” or “act like a lady”? Felt like people had certain expectations because of your perceived gender or orientation? Last week, Out on Campus hosted Queer Awareness Week as a way to address and educate SFU about gender and sexuality, and to open dialogue about the misconceptions and barriers that we all face by being compartmentalized into certain roles.

As part of the initiative, The Peak and Out on Campus joined forces to find out what SFU students thought about related topics.

This is a lesser-explored format of feature for The Peak, where we compile a bunch of comments and stories into one big collaborative feature. Think it’s messy? Think it’s great? We’d love to hear your feedback and suggestions! Email [email protected]

 

   What do you think of the word “Gay” as a put down?

“I have friends that use it ironically, saying “that’s so gay,” but in a tongue-in-cheek way. Like any irony, it’s supposed to show that you’re embracing the contradiction between your values (i.e. supporting the queer community) and the existence of people that don’t believe in the same values. But, no, I think it’s offensive.”

“It’s inappropriate as it is offensive to some. It makes being gay sound like a bad thing, whether or not the person using the word actually means it as a judgement on gay people. One of my friends in high school was challenged to say “that’s so straight” instead of “that’s so gay.” I think that brought her attention to how ridiculous the statement was.”

“While it could be an element of language changes, to allow it to become such means that we think so little of the people who choose it for themselves that we think it is out word to use.”

“My flatmate does, and I DON’T GET IT because she’s queer too, so WTF.”

“I’ve used it once or twice to try it out, and I have had friends who use it very rarely. Honestly, I feel like context plays a huge part in language, so it is hard for me to support a blanket statement about one word being morally bad, rather than just culturally impolite, especially given that language grows and changes. Simplistically, I agree that the use of “gay” as a synonym for something negative is a bad context to be placed in when it comes to power dynamics of the majority and the queer community.”

“A lot of my friends still say it, as well as family members. It is a put down due to the way it is used — usually in place of a word like “stupid,” or “lame.” ”

“I’ve never used it. I’ve heard friends use it in high school, but at SFU, not so much. I don’t know if that’s because university students are more mature, or because society itself is changing how they view the word. Whenever I see someone on the internet say “That’s so gay,” I reply, “Yeah, I like it too!” ”

“When talking with a friend, I casually mentioned that I thought something was “retarded. My friend stopped walking. She politely asked me to not use that term, and explained why. I’m not going to say that I immediately changed my habit and apologized — I didn’t. I belligerently questioned her about the offence she was taking. I accused her of being too sensitive. I stated that “she knew I wasn’t like that.” She listened to my arguments, remained firm, stated that I was being inappropriate, and that I was intelligent enough to know better. She wasn’t wrong. I stopped using the phrase in front of her, mostly so that I wouldn’t catch shit again. When I needed to say something was “ridiculous and of a stupid nature” in front of her, I exercised my vocabulary and found synonyms to get my point across. In so doing, I discovered words that didn’t negatively stigmatize others. Amazing. My faux-pas was very similar to someone else saying “that’s so gay.” These phrases represent an insidious systemic belittling of those with less power. These phrases find their way into our vocabulary, and we don’t notice because of the social allowances they’re given through complacency. The answer for allies is to not be complacent. I don’t feel I’m ablest, and many of the people who use the phrase “that’s so gay” aren’t homophobic. We’re not always aware of why we use the words we use, but once given the gift of awareness there are no more excuses. I learned: we can all learn. My hope is that people will think about the effect that occurs when a term for a group, and the use of that term as a negative, are confounded. If you’ve read this, you’re now aware.”

 

What’s a time you felt pressure to behave, think, or look a certain way based on your gender? How did it make you feel?

“When I’m around straight people I feel awkward looking as generically “feminine” as I do. There’s always an anxiety around new people because I know at some point, unless someone else has already informed them, I’m going to have to come out
to them because no one assumes I’m gay. While that generally goes pretty well, there’s always that chance it won’t. Conversely, when I go out to a gay bar, I feel like most people assume I’m straight because I don’t have part of my head shaved, nor am I wearing men’s clothes. I still feel like I have to come out in these situations, except now I have to wonder if people are judging me because I’m “adhering to patriarchy’s strict and gendered codes for how women should look,” or some bullshit like that. Look, I got the awkward haircut and attempted to wear dude’s clothes shortly after I came out. While I do like men’s T-shirts and I am partial to vests, everything else made me feel like I was in a weird costume. People complain about not being able to find a date in Vancouver. Try finding a date in Vancouver where the people you want assume you want the ones you don’t. Everywhere I go I feel like I’m interloping, but at least I’m doing it in skirts if I damn well please now.”

“I never officially came out of the closet. I learned the meaning of the word “lesbian” when I received it as a label in grade four. My teacher explained to me that it was a bad word and made my bullies apologize for implying such a terrible thing. When two of my best friends started dating in grade nine, my mom expressed that she had no problem with two girls being together but she was really glad that I wasn’t “like that.” Around the same time, one of my high school boyfriends explicitly gave me permission to kiss girls because it would “mean nothing.” It did mean something though. My sexuality has never been a secret, but I never showed it off. There was a boy at my high school who was openly gay and wore a tutu to class. I hated him for flaunting his pride and triggering the cruel homophobic comments of those I was trying to blend in with. I realize now that I didn’t really hate him. I hated myself because I felt like I could never be proud of what I am. If you don’t acknowledge what you are, then it is impossible to be proud of it. I am pansexual. This is me officially coming out.”

“All my life. Folks see boobs, they think lady. I am not a lady: I am myself, being told to be one way instead of what makes you feel right is wrong for everyone. It sucks.”

“It’s only at times where I am hyper conscious of how I am presenting myself that I realize how much I am censoring myself to ensure I am “acting like a woman.” Most notably, this happens in dating. I catch myself not speaking up when I know that I should, or putting up with certain behaviours lest I come off as seeming “clingy” (which is more often attributed as a negative trait in women). I rarely communicate emotions that are perfectly natural when you care about somebody: jealousy, desire, insecurity, fear about the future. Women are often criticized for being “too emotional.” Well, guess what? Yes, we are. No matter how you identify, or how you look, or how others perceive you, underneath it all, we are all brimming with emotion. Stop pretending to “be a man,” or trying to not act “like such a woman;” stop attributing each others’ emotional reactions to their gender roles, because we’ve all got them. Embrace it.”

“Any time I am out in public, I can feel eyes and questioning glances. Usually it turns out people are just curious, and sometimes want to get to know me because I am different, but there has been the occasional negative experience. I do suffer from some public anxiety; I am not sure if it is because of this or if my anxiety is only heightened by my awareness of nonconformity, but I can say that my experience has given me some distinct advantages. It is not always comfortable, but I am not unequipped to deal with it.”

Spiegelman featured at the Vancouver Art Gallery

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Art Spiegelman, AS 031 MA

The newest exhibit is a one-of-a-kind experience

By Max Hill

Photo courtesy of Vancouver Art Gallery

Art Spiegelman is the Pulitzer Prize-winning cartoonist and essayist behind Maus: A Survivor’s Tale, In the Shadow of No Towers and a wide variety of comics publications, essays, and collections. Despite his impressive resume, Spiegelman seems like the last person whose work you’d expect to find in a gallery retrospective: he’s renowned for his acerbic and selfcritical sense of humour and his discomfort with the vast praise he’s received during his career.

However, after winning the Grand Prix at the Angouleme International Comics Festival in Paris, Spiegelman helped put together an exhibition of his work, which has been featured at four museums worldwide, including the Museum Ludwig in Cologne, Germany and the Jewish Museum in New York. Until June 9, an impressive collection of Spiegelman’s sketches, scraps, and published pieces will be on display at the Vancouver Art Gallery.

The CO-MIX exhibit gives viewers a linear narrative of Spiegelman’s distinguished career: beginning with his experiences in the underground “comix” scene of San Francisco, the show includes many strips and stories from this period. Heavily influenced by the history of the comics medium, from Windsor McCay’s Little Nemo series to Harvey Kurtzman’s work for Mad Magazine, Spiegelman’s early work experiments with a variety of styles and genres.

Included in the exhibit are such works as Prisoner on Hell Planet, a shockingly personal account of Spiegelman’s reaction to his mother’s 1968 suicide told in German expressionist style, and the original artwork for Spiegelman’s three-page 1972 strip Maus, which would go on to inspire his graphic novel of the same name 10 years later. This documentation of Spiegelman’s early work displays his struggles to find both his artistic voice and an effective medium for the artist’s unique brand of inflammatory social commentary.

After moving back to New York in 1976 and marrying Francoise Mouly — who would become a key artistic collaborator — Spiegelman began teaching at the New York School of Visual Arts. Having spent four years involved in the burgeoning New York underground comix movement, Spiegelman began Raw, a comix anthology co-edited with his new wife. The publication helped bring many lesserknown cartoonists into the public eye, including Chris Ware, Charles Burns, and Alan Moore. It was also in the pages of Raw that Maus was originally published. The exhibit includes several original copies of Raw, as well as preliminary sketches for many of the magazine’s covers and an impressive collection of memorabilia, including graphic tees and buttons.

Spiegelman’s Pulitzer Prizewinning opus Maus is of course given particular attention: the exhibit includes a wealth of sketches and drafts from Maus’ second volume and a variety of other fascinating documents, including Spiegelman’s parents’ passports and documentation of his father’s entry into the Auschwitz concentration camp. Many visitors to the exhibit will linger in this section; the pieces are beautifully arranged and breathtaking in their simplicity.

The graphic novel, which tells the story of Spiegelman’s father Vladek Spiegelman’s experience during his time in Auschwitz, was one of the first works of its kind to receive scholarly and critical attention.

“I think what Art did was to take a medium — the comics medium — and to see what the possibilities were,” says Bruce Grenville, senior curator of the exhibit and personal friend of Mr. Spiegelman. “He developed a narrative that is so rich and compelling that people kind of gravitated toward it that never would have looked at a comic book in their life.”

This is the first time that Maus has been featured in a gallery setting since being exhibited at the Museum of Modern Art in New York in 1992.

The exhibit’s second half focuses on Spiegelman’s work since the release of Maus. One room is dedicated to an impressive collection of controversial and intransigent New Yorker covers which the artist contributed during his 10-year stint at the magazine. Included is Spiegelman’s Sept. 24, 2001 cover depicting the Twin Towers in New York City as black silhouettes against a black background. Inspired by the abstract paintings of Ad Reinhardt, the cover has achieved recognition for its striking minimalism and evocation of the loss felt by citizens of New York, and Art himself, in the aftermath of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks.

“I felt that images were suddenly powerless to help us understand what had happened,” said Francoise Mouly in a Sept 5, 2011 New Yorker article. “The only appropriate solution seemed to be to publish no cover image at all — an allblack cover. Then Art suggested adding the outlines of the two towers, black on black. So from no cover came a perfect image, which conveyed something about the unbearable loss of life, the sudden absence in our skyline, the abrupt tear in the fabric of reality.”

Another room focuses on In the Shadow of No Towers, an idiosyncratic and self-referential comic series published by the German newspaper Die Ziet from 2002–2004. The work doubles as a form of social commentary of an anxious post-9/11 America and a deeply personal expression of Spiegelman’s own anxiety and post-traumatic stress following the attacks.

At the exhibit’s end is a collection of the artist’s publications for children, which contrast with the profoundly mature themes of his better known pieces. Works such as Open Me… I’m a Dog and comix anthology Little Lit (co-edited with Mouly) illustrate Spiegelman’s versatility, inventiveness, and unlikely lightheartedness.

Unlike the exhibit’s first half, Spiegelman’s work from 1991 on is not presented in any linear fashion: instead, museumgoers are free to explore the artist’s contemporary works in whatever order they choose. The show also offers the opportunity for visitors to read Maus and other works at their own pace: copies of Spiegelman’s works are littered across two cozy reading sections throughout the gallery.
The museum has not featured any comics artists in their galleries since 2008’s popular Krazy exhibit, which was cocurated by Grenville and Spiegelman. Despite growing acceptance of comics as a valid art form, exhibits that focus on cartoonists are still few and far between — and seem to attract a different crowd than the usual museum fare.
“It’s a surprisingly broad and diverse audience,” explains Grenville. “When I go in there, I’m always surprised at the kind
of range . . . there are people who are more hardcore artists in a dedicated sort of way, and then at the same time people who probably haven’t set foot in the museum before.”

Tuesday nights are especially popular, when the gallery opens its doors late and charges by donation. “It’ll be jammed tonight,” exults Grenville.

The gallery has rarely seen such an interesting and unusual array of attendees as you’ll find at the CO-MIX exhibit: suit-andtie intellectuals and skateboardcarrying punks share breathing space and speak volumes towards the wide appeal of Spiegelman’s work and its ability to convey something different to each and every reader.

But perhaps the best reason to recommend the exhibit is that Spiegelman’s work is unlikely to be featured in a gallery setting again. “I think what’s great about the show is that you will never get another chance to see a retrospective of Art. You won’t get it in your lifetime,” says Grenville with a hint of wistfulness.

It doesn’t seem far-fetched to say that it’s the last opportunity fans and art lovers alike will likely have to take a closer look at the work of one of the medium’s most well-known and influential figures.
Given the deeply personal nature of Spiegelman’s creations, be they the brusquely satirical strips of his San Francisco years or the grandiose statements of his more recent output, many of his devotees feel an intimate connection to his work.

When asked about what aspect of Spiegelman’s work spoke to him, Grenville replied, “I think with Art’s work, it’s his ability to make every page — every frame — so dense with possibility and meaning. And it’s what you see in every great artwork is this sort of sense of the complexity of composition, of the content, an understanding of the history — that’s brought to every page of what he does.”

By blending the best aspects of high and low art with his own unique sense of humour and insightful socio-political critique, Spiegelman has solidified himself not only as one of the greatest artists in the history of the medium, but also as one of the defining artists of his time.

To see these pieces in such vibrant detail, from conception to finished product, is worth the trip. Inviting yet uncompromising, the show is a perfect metaphor for Spiegelman’s work, and for the man himself.

SFU authors shortlisted for The BC Book Prizes

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djwa-sandra

SFU alumni acknowledged for their contribution to Canadian literature

By Monica Miller
Photo courtesy of Lisa Hartley

Anakana Schofield is an alumnus of the Writers’ Studio at SFU, and her first novel Malarky is receiving praise and being called an “experimental format.” Schofield calls into question this label of “experimental,” instead calling her book an “episodic fragmentary work.”
But something seems to be working, because Schofield says she’s “been so touched and impressed by word of mouth . . . people who read it and really respond to it.”

The novel centres on Our Woman, an Irish widow dealing with the loss of both her son and her husband. The label of “experimental” is probably due to the non-traditional novel format with changing point of view from first person to third, to omniscient as well as a non-linear construction.

“I’m interested in language — the line, paragraph, sentence, words — and my approach to narrative is the extrapolation of a single moment. You can come to it and read it backwards, sideways, I’m not worried.” She compares finding the right form for the story to “trying on cardigans.” Playing with tenses and internal rhythm is something that intrigues her as a writer.

The format may be non-traditional, but Schofield feels that the linear story “being served up on a platter” does “nothing for me as a reader and writer.” This does lead some readers to question Schofield about the ending of the novel, but she explains she “left it open-ended intentionally” and “didn’t want narratives that tie up in neat little bundles because lives don’t do that.”

Malarky has been shortlisted for the Ethel Wilson Fiction Prize, and although Schofield mentions she is “fortunate with this book to get attention,” she is also “quite critical of prize culture.”
This is ironic, because Malarky has been making best of lists across North America since it was published last year, including being shortlisted for the Amazon.ca First Novel Award. Schofield feels that prizes and best of lists are driving how we read, “squeezing into boxes of awards and shortlists” and limiting the number of voices heard.

“Readers have power — much more than they realize — to affect books,” attests Schofield, citing that seeking out, buying, and reading books that aren’t well known not only broadens the readers’ horizons, but it also affects the market.

Anakana Schofield is currently working on a “footnote novel” featuring a very minor character from Malarky, named Beruit. While tr ying to write Malarky, a process that took 10 years, Schofield inadvertently wrote another book or three. This footnote novel is a parallel narrative, and even more fragmental and darker than Malarky, “if that’s even possible,” she laughs.

Also receiving multiple award accolades is Sandra Djwa, professor emeritus in the Department of English at SFU. Her book, Journey with No Maps: A Life of PK Page, has been shortlisted for the Hubert Evans NonFiction Prize. PK Page invited Sandra to write the biography in the late 1990s and they conducted many interviews, resulting in a plethora of information. Unfortunately, PK Page passed away in January 2010 at the age of 93, but Sandra had the permission of her estate to publish the biography.

“Biographers have to choose what to put in when the subject matter is sensitive, and what to leave out when there is too much [information] or subject constraints,” explains Djwa, who stated that she was fortunate there was a great deal of material and she had the opportunity to consult with PK about the book.

Unfortunately, Kate Bird did not encounter the same ease while helping research Making Headlines: 100 Years of The Vancouver Sun for author Shelley Fralic. Bird explains that The Vancouver Sun archives has so many different clippings about businesses, but not The Vancouver Sun’s own corporate history.

“We didn’t really write about ourselves, so we really had to dredge up the work.” This also meant that there was no photo of the original owner of the paper, J.P. McConnell, in their archives. Fortunately, a family descendent of McConnell found and donated a photo.

Making Headlines: 100 Years of the Vancouver Sun is shortlisted for the Bill Duthie Booksellers’ Choice Award, which is distinct from the other shortlists where three judges vote on their lists. With the Bill Duthie Booksellers’ Choice Award, booksellers across British Columbia submit their votes on the titles that readers are seeking out.

Bird is the research librarian for The Vancouver Sun and The Province newspapers. She says that her background in fine arts and art history meant that she was always interested in images and art collections, so when The Vancouver Sun wanted to create a database of their image collection in 1990, it was a perfect fit. She’s worked at both newspapers since then, and helps reporters research their daily stories, longer features, departmental requests and public queries through InfoLine. She also collaborates with galleries and art exhibits such as the current exhibit entitled NEWS! at Presentation House’s Satellite Gallery downtown.

Kate Bird is a graduate of the Writers’ Studio under mentor Stephen Osbourne, with a focus on non-fiction. She has already written her own manuscript and completed a Manuscript Intensive with Betsy Warland, so perhaps her own book will be on award lists soon.
The winners of the BC Book Prizes will be announced May 4, 2013 at the Lieutenant Governor’s BC Book Prize Gala, an award celebration in Victoria. On April 10 at Joe’s Apartment, the BC Book Prize Soiree will celebrate the shortlisted authors. Then, the BC Book Prizes On Tour will kick off, touring select authors around the province to visit schools, bookstores, and libraries in various communities.

Monsters and slashers vote Tory

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slasher films

By Kyle Leitch
Illustration By Eleanor Qu

REGINA (CUP) — While paying due attention in film class last week, a professor raised an interesting concept that I thought worth sharing. Over the course of the lecture, aforementioned professor suggested that horror films, and, more specifically, the slasher films of the 70s and 80s were representations of conservative political policies, albeit cartoonishly over-exaggerated ones.

“Surely, he jests?” I asked my neighbour.

“Fuck off,” my neighbour responded, going back to the doodles adorning every margin of every page of his notebook.

“It’s okay,” I nodded. “Surely, he jests.” But still, I couldn’t get the nagging idea out of my head. The night after that fateful lecture, I sequestered myself in my living room — beside me, a cornucopia of bloodlust. Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger, Michael Myers, and Tommy “Leatherface” Hewitt would be my only company that cold night in this foul year of the Common Era, 2013.

First on the docket was Jason. Surely Friday the 13th wouldn’t let me down. Okay, things are looking good: teenagers getting high and screwing, Jason putting the machete to them, and — wait. Hold on: teenagers. Drugs. Sex. Oh no. I ejected the DVD getting slightly more panicked now.

Nightmare on Elm Street? Freddy killed without discrimination, right? He got you in your dreams, right?! Teenagers. Drugs. Sex. Abortions. Oh, fuck.

Mike? Leatherface? Teenagers. Drugs. Sex. Oh fuckety fuckety fuck! This is bad. This is really, really bad.

How could I have not noticed the patterns? They had been in place since before the turn of the century! These movie monsters are the metaphorical archangels sent by conservative politicians to punish the things that they hate most.

Think about your favourite slasher movie. Now, think about your favourite kill — you sick bastard. Now, think about the victim. Think about what they were engaged in immediately before their intestinal tracts were used to string up the light fixtures. I guarantee you they were either having intercourse out of wedlock, were abusing a controlled substance, or were discussing something guaranteed to piss off your local Conservative MPs.

And, suddenly, it hit me. This is how the Conservatives have been exerting their power in Canadian politics for so long. They get into power, and then they use their cronies summoned literally from the very depths of hell to murder their competition in cold blood. All I’m saying is, who’s heard from Joe Clark, lately?

Jason, Freddy, Michael, Leatherface — I expected more from you. I honestly thought you killed regardless of political affiliation. I can assure you, gentlemen, that whatever the Conservatives are paying you, we, as a collective body could easily double it to stop your mercenary work for the Conservatives, and make a few more sequels each.