The Valley (Summer 2022 Issue)

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DIRECTOR
Polen Light
PROGRAMMING & FACILITIES COORDINATOR
Myuri Srikugan
COMMUNICATIONS COORDINATOR
Vy Le
COVER ART
Tasnim Anzar
MAGAZINE DESIGN
Vy Le
WRITERS
Alyssa Brubacher
Sana Hashim
Victor Castillo
Yan Ling Shi
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Introduction
04
Unexpected Haven
by Sana Hashim
06
Ironies of Edward Burtynsky’s
In the Wake of Process
by Yanling Shi
12
My Time in Isolation
Reflection by Myuri Srikugan
17
Art happens, let us be!
by Victor Castillo
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A Sunflower Through the
Concrete
by Alyssa Brubacher
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Dear Readers,
I’d like to welcome you to this
late summer issue of Gallery
1265’s magazine. While the leaves
outside have turned brown and
the smell of cinnamon has blended
with earthy smell of burning
wood, I wish the pages you will
read take you back to past vivid
memories of the cool breezes on a
summer night.
In this edition you will read about
how art is everywhere in our lives
and how integral it is to us as a
form of expression. Unexpected
Haven by Sana Hashim will show
you many faces of how art can be
used as a powerful tool for expression
across multiple disciplines
and contexts. Victor will take you
behind the washroom stalls and
most mundane places to exhibit
how art can flourish in most unexpected
places and how integral
for our well being. Yanling will
reflect on using art to convey an
idea of a far place, taking a critical
look in framing and context of art
while asking us to take a wider
look than the lens of the camera.
And lastly but not least, Alyssa will
share her personal story on how
art allowed her to fall in love with
Scarborough.
Besides sipping our afternoon
margaritas and editing videos,
we were also able to mount an
exhibition at the UTSC library.
First time in Gallery 1265’s history,
both the Gallery 1265 and UTSC
Library staff are looking forward to
developing the partnership we’ve
built with more exhibitions and
projects.
As the summer came to an end,
we welcomed Dan Pham as our
new Volunteer and Public Engagement
Coordinator and Kristy
Zhang as our Exhibitions Curator;
I am personally beyond excited to
work with both and know that the
new team will leave the gallery
with a programming to remember.
But this welcome came with
a goodbye to previous Exhibitions
Curator Myuri Srikugan. Myuri has
worked with the gallery for a mere
three months, but her cool vibe
and cheery aura stuck with
us. As was predictable from
her great brief work with
us, she has already moved
on to better opportunities
and has proudly started
her professional career,
many thanks to Myuri for
her time with us.
year-round in person programming–starting
with a double
feature exhibition from Shen
and Thea; which we can’t wait to
showcase they have been preparing.
We can’t wait to open the gates
of the gallery to the public again,
and welcome everyone back to
Gallery 1265. Please drop by and
say hi!
- Polen
Our small but mighty gallery staff
was also at work this summer as
well. You can now find us on You-
Tube with videos of artists & more!
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As I come to my closing remarks,
I hope to see all those
reading to come out and engage
with our packed

by Alyssa Bruchaber
I used to resent a summer spent in Scarborough.
I was a child and hated the constant
push and pull of a week spent in day camp, a
week spent with my grandmother during the
day at her condo, and a week spent at home
with whichever parent took a week off. There
was nothing glittery and special, nothing particularly
tropical or summery to me about my
pedestrian existence in what I thought had
to have been the most boring place in the
world.
As absurd as this next statement may sound,
it’s completely true. The thing that made me
reconsider Scarborough was not late night
Warden Station beef patties or a sunny day
at Bluffer’s Park, it was the 54A Lawrence Ave
bus at around 3:30pm in the afternoon in the
middle of July. No matter how much I love
Scarborough now, there is still a large part of
me that would rather just walk from wherever
I am in the city to my home than take the
54A bus any further than 5 or 6 stops. But at
14, it was magic to me. My parents kept me
on a bit of a short leash as a teen so when I
was finally off to High School, sitting in the
back of the bus with friends and the $1 ice
cream cones we bought at the Burger King
at Markham and Lawrence made me feel
simply euphoric.
All this to say that this summer, of all the
summers I have lived in my 22 years on
earth, continuously affirmed and reaffirmed
the love I have for my home and the way it
feeds me creatively. I thought getting a job
Downtown, placing myself in the middle
of the ‘culture’ would provide me with new
inspiration, new fuel for writing, it didn’t. It
wasn’t the crowded trains at 7:30am that left
me to ponder the inner lives of strangers, it
was sobering up with friends over fries in the
neighbourhood Pizza Pizza at 1:30am. It surely
wasn’t walking through the grassy parkette
outside of Roy Thomson Hall that sent me perusing
the bibliographies of naturalist writers
for reading inspiration, it was long walks in
the Rouge Valley in the early evening. Without
realizing it until the last days of Summer,
the local became an endless cave for mining
inspiration this summer.
My point in this piece is not that I am beyond
the annoyances that come with every day
life in Scarborough, the pigeons, the increasing
eastward expansion of gentrification, the
imminent shut down of line 3. It is however
the point that yes, a new place will always
shock into you new types of inspiration, but
nestling in the familiar web of memory,
friendship, and love that
comes with writing about
wherever you identify
home to be will often
breed a creative perspective
that is honest,
unique and completely
your own. Vive Scarborough!
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around the three campuses. All of us have the
need, desire and right to freely express our
feelings, without judgement or pre-judgement
but with mere admiration and empathy.
Certainly, the washroom walls and doors
are not our preferred canvas. Student Unions
across U of T campuses report more than
98,500 students registered. Do you think
there is enough space for all of us to do art?
Sadly, we do not have sufficient and adequate
spaces for it. All of us have been facing
personal troubles and public concerns since
the COVID19 pandemic started. One can
infer that this mass hysteria severely affected
our emotional intelligence, and with it, our
personal life and our academics resulted in
traumatic feelings. Students, faculty and staff
were not able to freely access washrooms
across three campuses
for
over two years to address
a primary physiological
need. You may agree with
me that the pandemic
is over or that it
has become a new
lifestyle. In either
case, more washrooms
are being built as you
read this article to
address everyone’s
physiological needs
such as micturition.
How can U of T conby
VikJoy
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According to Cambridge English Dictionary’s
basic definition, humans make Art to “...express
feelings.” We can use art as an outlet for
expressing our feelings at any age, anywhere
and anytime our creative talent arouses. If
you are honest and open minded, I challenge
you to close your eyes, have a quick glimpse
into your past and recall artworks you have
seen on the washroom walls and doors at
your High School, University, Public Park or
sketchy Restaurant—just to mention few of
the places—in which aching, joyful or even
hormonally aroused souls captured their
most inner feelings throughout words, images
and symbols. Using permanent markers,
lipstick, nail polish, blood and other body
fluids. Can you recall observing a perfectly
drawn heart with the names or initials of
lovers? Or the most hilarious caricature of a
politician that made your toilet use unforgettable?
One could argue that with our excessive
use of our mobiles, this type of art would
cease to exist. Some people still use these
isolated places for voicing out their joy, anger
and even lusty beliefs and emotions which
represent their feelings. Perhaps they ran
out of battery or free spaces for their souls to
express their feelings.
In the case of our U of T community across
all three campuses, spaces for making Art
are reduced and almost null. Especially, with
constructions and renovations happening

tribute to our mental well-being?
The answer is simple, by creating
more spaces to heal through art.
Insights and Data from the Innovation
Hub on Student Mental
Health at the University of Toronto,
dated June 2019, reveal painful
feelings from our peers. A cry
for help and vulnerability from
our peers has been recorded
since the beginning of the most
recent pandemic and its expected
and other imposed effects on
not just our U of T community
but global society. Some of our
peers shared their vulnerability
with our U of T community and
expressed their feelings at the
Innovation Hub: “I tend to base
my self-worth on my marks… I
want teachers to like me...”, “...
You know, you spend a lot of
time feeling like you’re trapped
in something…” Perhaps you
can also relate to one or more
of their feelings; I certainly did.
For example, I remember, one
night this past winter term,
attending a virtual tour at the
Art Gallery of Ontario (AGO), and
then crying for some time that
night as part of my healing process
for missing my loved ones
because of my inability to be
with them due to the pandemic
and closed borders. Although
the AGO doors were physically
closed, a virtual door opened a
safe, fun and vulnerable space
for expressing the feelings of all
attendees that night. We also
healed some pain that night
while admiring and commenting
on live and deceased artists who
painted, shaped and wrote
their feelings in their preferred
or available canvas.
In conclusion, art makes
us laugh, cry, arouse and
embrace our feelings.
So, why suppress them?
Peer of mine, I strongly
invite you to get out of
your comfort zone and do
art: paint, draw, sing, dance,
take pictures, write, etc. You can
also appreciate it and cope
with stress from academic
and personal challenges.
Remember that true
learning happens when
we are out of our comfort
zone. I just ask you
to keep our washrooms
walls and doors clean by
finding a better suitable
canvas. Today, I feel hopeful by
delivering our message to the U
of T administration: You must
do better. Please consider
the well-being of more
than 98,500 students’
brains; particularly, our
right hemisphere and
amygdala. Art happens,
let us be!
I leave you with this piece of
what I call “Prose Poetry” and
a few unforgivable Art by
unknown artists whose
feelings found me while
searching for mine on the
ground. I hope you enjoy
their making as much
as I did enjoy collecting
them for you. Cry, laugh
or arouse freely and let Art
find you!
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A Child and their Art
Sometimes I get lost in my mind and only Art heals me. When I was a child, I wanted your
attention. So I drew on the walls of the house, a house that never felt like our home. I painted
with crayons to avoid loneliness.I painted for you beautiful fish swimming in the deepest
oceans, ancient turtles eating the most delicious plankton. You reprimanded me and left visible
and invisible scars. I forgave you because you did not know that a child only wants to be
loved. You were captured by your own wantings. You wanted money, a house, a wife, a husband,
another wife, another husband, a house, another house, more money, a child, another
child… I only wanted to be loved, so I drew on the pale and forbidden walls of a house. I needed
a home not a house. Children, adolescents, mothers and fathers, and even the elderly, get
lost in their own minds sometimes. Only Art shall heal them. Let us rebuild a home with free
walls or no walls at all, so we can express our love because love is healing.
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Photos by VikJoy

Reflection by Myuri Srikugan
We are excited to have collaborated with the library at UTSC to bring you a summer exhibition,
presented by Angela Leech. The library is a resourceful space where many students
tend to study or go to take a break. This quiet setting is a very ideal spot to place art for
students to observe throughout anytime of the year. Whether it is studying for an exam,
working on personal goals or finding a place to sit; the library offers a comfortable space
for students. Taking on works from the Painting I class, Angela displayed her students’
work throughout the library. The exhibit The COVID Years: My Time in Isolation contains
art from students: Chloe Kouyoumdjian, Cynthia Bao, Marissa Brodie, Joanne Kim, Kiu Kiu
Mak, Sydney Ly and Zainab Aslam. Angela expresses how the melancholy and isolation in
her students’ paintings can’t be ignored, and how the collection of works was an interesting
record of the isolation students experienced through the pandemic lockdown. Thank
you very much to the UTSC library, Angela, the student artists along with everyone that
has taken the time to view these art pieces.
We have an archive of the exhibit, please email us at info@gallery1265.com to find out
more about this exhibit.
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‘Home’ from ‘Chapter 4:
Displacement’ from Entropy
How I’ve used art as
an outlet to express,
share, and create in
different contexts.
by Sana Hashim
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I used to be an avid lover of art. I would
spend hours drawing, painting, creating
collages, or piecing together stationery to
create funky figures. I used to think of art
as just a fun hobby—something I enjoyed
and did during my free time. Once I joined
university though, I stopped creating any
type of art.
During my second year of university, I
found myself hovering over my old sketches
again after I’d escaped my home country
and got separated from my parents.
My sketches reminded me of the joy I felt
drawing while being around my family in
my own little world. It was with the hope of
experiencing that joy from my old life once
again that I picked up a pen and opened
my sketchbook to draw after nearly two
years.
While the process started out a bit rough,
I ended up spending my whole day drawing.
As old patterns and feelings of nostalgia
came flooding back, so did the grief of
all that I had lost. For the first time, I voiced
with every stroke of my pen the fears and
uncertainties I had dared not say aloud before.
One piece led to the next and without
really realizing it, I ended up with Entropy,
my first ever art series.
piece I created removed a massive burden
from my body that I wasn’t even aware I
was carrying.
Fascinated by my newly developed relationship
with art, I started to research the
role of art in other diasporas, specifically
victim diasporas. My research turned into
Citizen of the Diaspora, an abstract digital
art piece I created for a course called ‘Diaspora
and Transnational Studies’. Citizen
of the Diaspora shows a person in exile
who uses art to form new ties with their
homeland and the land where they are in
exile. The trauma and loss the exiled person
experiences are converted into various
forms of performance and visual art. At the
same time, art empowers the exiled person
and provides them with the means to
challenge bureaucratic systems and inaccurate
narratives to accurately represent
their identity.
It was through Entropy that I realized the
impact art had in my life. Art wasn’t just
a fun hobby for me. With every art piece I
created, I probed and narrated my life experiences
of growing up in war, escaping
the war, getting displaced and separated,
and becoming a refugee. Art became an
outlet for my emotions whether they were
happiness, fear, frustration, calm, doubt, or
determination. The emotional rollercoaster
I’d go through while creating any piece
usually left me drained, but also surprisingly
relieved as well. It was as if every
Citizen of the Diaspora art piece
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‘Labels’ from ‘Chapter 4: Displacement’ from Entropy

‘Systems Version 2’ (farthest right) from ‘Chapter 5: Bureaucracy’
from Entropy
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Safer Space’s story map
The more I explored my relationship with art, the more acutely I became
aware of my engagement with art. I realized that I’d never actually been on an
art hiatus as I previously thought. As a Geographic Information Systems (GIS)
major, I often create story maps and web apps to visually represent data and
allow users to engage with it through interactive maps. For example, a few of
my classmates and I created a web app called Safer Space in a GIS competition.
Safer Space shows past and ongoing fires in some Indigenous territories
across Canada. The theme and colors chosen for Safer Space’s story map and
web app were all dark in order to emphasize the impact of fires. Through the
widgets we included in Safer Space, users had the opportunity to document
new occurrences of fires and also donate to Indigenous Peoples’ causes.
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Safer Space’s web app

Research Sites of Betula Species’ web app
On the other hand, I chose much lighter colors for the story map and web app
I created to showcase the human impact on two Betula species. For my research,
I did a literature review on the scholarly material focusing on human
use and environment/climate change. I was then able to spatially represent
the research sites of the scholarly literature through a web app for users to further
explore. I now understand the power that comes with engaging with art.
Whether I draw, paint, doodle, sculpt, or create story maps and web apps, art is
a reminder of what I overcame in the past and what impact I can make in the
future. Through my own experience, I’ve used art to express emotions, share
experiences, communicate a message, and try to make a positive change.
Human Impact on Betula Species’ story map
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Ironies of Edward Burtynsky’s
From my perspective as a Chinese audience.
by Yanling Shi
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Photos by Yanling Shi

Photographer Edward Burtynsky’s highly anticipated video artwork debuted at Yonge-Dundas
Square as a part of the Luminato Festival on June 11th. The 22-minute film combines photography
and video, completed with an original score by Phil Strong with vocals by iskwē and it is looped
through a three-hour period. The film uses all the digital advertising screens in Yonge-Dundas
Square and the Eaton Centre main entrance – an element that piqued the interest of people passing
by as well as my own anticipation. But with each repeated viewing, inherent issues of Burtynsky’s
message became more prominent to me as a Chinese viewer, and the irony of the location
became increasingly impossible to ignore. For the greatly anticipated work of a well-respected
photographer, I was disappointed and confused by this artwork.
In the artist’s own words, In the Wake of Progress intends to touch people, “[making] them think,
[giving] them an inflection point for a conversation about our world and what we’re doing with it”,
the ultimate goal is a call for action regarding the climate crisis and “lament for the loss of nature”
(Rosano, 2022). Burtynsky approaches this through exploring how cheap labour is exploited
in Asian and African countries as a result of global consumerism, and “[forcing] the audience to
reckon with the effects of industry” both locally and globally (Galea, 2022). However, I question the
effectiveness of In the Wake of Progress in achieving Burtynsky’s goals as there is a gap between
the film’s message to its audience, created by the location and context it is viewed in.
One shot of the film showing Shanghai’s well-known cityscape is at the centre of this disconnection.
Burtynsky frames Shanghai as a consumerist centre amidst the devastating environmental
effects of over-production. While this is not a rejection of the artist’s critique, in the context of the
film being shown in Toronto, the effect of this shot does not help Burtynsky achieve his goal. Displayed
in the busiest shopping centre of Toronto, the lack of local consumerism behaviour creates
the gap between the film’s images and the audience. Viewers are unable to see their role in the
environmental devastations that sweep the globe, much less to take accountability and change
their behaviours. This costs Burtynsky the effectiveness of the film as a call for action, and the
artist’s critique of Shanghai becomes ironic when contrasted against the advertising screens in
Yonge-Dundas Square – all of which immediately return to fast fashion advertisements after the
three-hour window the artist was permitted to display the film.
Burtynsky’s China series (many
photographs are featured in In
the Wake of Progress) have raised
concerns of othering the Chinese.
Burtynsky captures Chinese factory
workers with a uniform, emotionless
faces, and machine-like
movements, enforcing “the feeling
of paranoia of large numbers
that threatens to overwhelm the
West’s favoured self-image of individualism
and personal freedom”
(Schuster 2013, 205). Framing the
A screenchot from the trailer of In the Wake of Progress
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factory workers as “passive, robotic, and agency-less” (Schuster 2013, 206) in the film enforces a
dangerously one-dimensional representation of the Chinese population. During an interview with
Professor Craig Campbell, Campbell expresses that Burtynsky’s photographs of China makes him
feel like he “knew more about China than [he] had ever known before” (Campbell 2008, 46). If
Burtynsky’s images and videos are the main source of a Western viewer’s understanding of China,
the results are not to raise awareness of a global climate crisis, but of othering the Chinese and
“fill a Western viewer’s field of vision with transfixed differences”, while disregarding nuances (Ballamingie
et al. 2009, 90) and the role that global consumerism plays in China’s mass production.
Burtynsky’s photographs should be viewed as a documentation of over-production and global
consumerism, not as a narrative to understand the country and the identity of its people. However,
this is not how Burtynsky uses the images in In the Wake of Progress. From the missing representation
of local consumerism behaviour and portraying Shanghai as the consumerist centre,
Burtynsky reinforces the one-dimensional view of China while being unsuccessful in creating a
call for action to a Toronto audience.
Growing up in an environment where China’s over-production was a highlighted identity of being
Chinese, the one-dimensional presentation in In the Wake of Progress and its effect of othering
the Chinese is obvious to me. While it may not be as obvious to viewers who do not share my
experience, media such as this film unconsciously alters viewers’ perception of China and enforce
the one-dimensional understanding of the country. Not only does the film not represent the
multi-dimensional reality to the viewers at Yonge-Dundas Square, but it also promotes little incentive
for self-reflection. The artist’s goal does not match with the effects of the film.
The effectiveness of the artwork is directly challenged by a viewer asking: “So what does he want
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me to do?” Indeed, the artist wasted the potential of a location as attention demanding and
impossible to ignore as Yonge-Dundas Square because he was unable to communicate his intentions
effectively and create resonance with the audience. This cost him the goal for the film to be
a call for action, while the goal to let viewers leave “thinking differently about where the things
they’re buying come from” (Dart, 2022) is effective, but a problematic angle to target. I argue that
the more crucial problem is how people are consuming. With fast fashion trends accelerated
by social media such as TikTok, there is a growing demand for more clothing and commodities.
Cheaper options are favoured to fuel the speed of consumption, thus putting countries that take
advantage of cheap labour at the centre. Where people are buying from makes little difference
if over-consumption is not targeted, and Burtynsky does not target this root issue as images that
force viewers to relate the global environmental impacts to themselves are missing.
Perhaps if In the Wake of Progress was displayed in China, Bangladesh, or the other countries
featured in the film, the same critiques may not apply. Burtynsky successfully presents the causes
and effects of mass consumption in one when he contrasts the glamorous city view of Shanghai
against its exploited workers and the destroyed landscape. This way of framing the issue makes
sense if it is viewed in China as it promotes viewers to a path of self-reflection. However, presented
in Yonge-Dundas Square, the greatest element that is missing from the film is that the audience
do not see their role and contribution towards global environmental devastations, making it seem
less personal. Because Burtynsky ignores the importance of context and audience at the location,
In the Wake of Progress is more effective as a film to promote othering of the Chinese while its
true goal as an initiative to change behaviour concludes more like a passing thought. The disconnect
between the film’s message and its viewers leaves me in confusion and makes me question
how much the artist truly kept the location and audience in mind when orchestrating the film.
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Bibliography
Ballamingie, Patricia, Xiaobei Chen, Eric Hemy, and Diana Nemiroff. 2009. “Edward Burtynsky’s
China photographs-A multidisciplinary reading.” Environments 37, no. 2: 67-94.
Campbell, Craig. 2008. “Residual landscapes and the everyday: An interview with Edward Burtynsky.”
Space and Culture 11, no. 1: 39-50. doi:10.1177/1206331207310703.
Dart, Chris. 2022. “After a two-year wait, Edward Burtynsky brings massive climate change exhibit
to Toronto’s Yonge-Dundas Square.” CBC. Last modified June 10. https://www.cbc.ca/arts/aftera-two-year-wait-edward-burtynsky-brings-massive-climate-change-exhibit-to-toronto-s-yongedundas-square-1.6484668.
Galea, Irene. 2022. “‘We’re all incriminated:’ Behind the scenes with Ed Burtynsky as he prepared
to mount his immersive, scathing new film, In the Wake of Progress.” The Globe and Mail.
Last modified June 25. https://www.theglobeandmail.com/arts/art-and-architecture/article-behind-the-scenes-ed-burtynskys-immersive-luminato-film-forces/.
Rosano, Michela. 2022. “Edward Burtynsky discusses new installation: In the Wake of Progress.”
Canadian Geographic. Last modified June 23. https://canadiangeographic.ca/articles/edward-burtynsky-discusses-new-installation-in-the-wake-of-progress/.
Schuster, Joshua. 2013. “Between Manufacturing and Landscapes: Edward Burtynsky and
the Photography of Ecology.” Photography and Culture 6, no. 2: 193-212. doi:10.2752/17514521
3X13606838923318.
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Our many thanks to
Josh and Christopher for their incredible support in
restoring our signage,
and Department of Arts, Culture and Media for
their continued support!
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