Show Abstract

A volar entre rocas is an intimate processing of self, relation to place, and migration. Aspects of memory and home are raised alongside questions about land, place, and power. Mariana Muñoz Gomez brings their two homes on opposite ends of Turtle Island into relation with one another through an engagement with the natural and social histories surrounding Tyndall stone and volcanic rock as vessels of time, embodiments of movement, witnesses to history, and links between distant places. A volar entre rocas compares and contrasts experiences and knowledge surrounding the artist’s two homes by exploring feelings derived from diaspora, including considerations of memory, movement, reaching, and belonging.
Mariana developed this body of work through what they describe as a diasporic introspection: noticing when experiences in one home reminded them of another; spending time with photographs, videos, memories; and researching their homeland on the internet.

Acknowledgements

This exhibition is supported by the Manitoba Arts Council and the Canada Council for the Arts.

Artist Biography

Mariana Muñoz Gomez

Mariana Muñoz Gomez (they/them) is a Mexican artist, writer, and curator based in Winnipeg, Manitoba on Treaty 1 Territory. Their art practice is often lens-based, involving a variety of media including text, screen prints, video art, and photography. Their practice explores place, identity, and language, and how these topics intersect with coloniality, temporality, and relationality. Mariana has been involved with various Winnipeg collectives and they are currently a managing co-editor of Carnation Zine. They were longlisted for the New Generation Photography Award in 2023.

Visit Mariana’s website at www.marianamunoz.ca

Tactile Object (welcome station)

Note: a laminated PDF in gallery of this informaion is also available.

Tactile Objects:

2D Site Map

3D Dollhouse Gallery Map

Tactile Materials, provided by artist: 

• Washi Prints: The printed images on wall at grunt gallery were printed onto Washi Paper using Chine Collé and adhered to the walls using rice paste. An example of the print is available to touch at the welcome station.
• Vinyl Lettering: On the East and West walls (left and right of the entrance) are vinyl sentences applied at different heights throughout the show. The vinyl is almost the same colour as the rusty, clay orange coloured walls, disappearing and reappearing from view as you move and the light hits the plastic surface. A few of these vinyl letters are adhered to a plastic sheet at the front stage. A high contrast layout of the text is also available in the Exhibition binder.

Creative Access Audio Tour

Coming soon.

Curatorial Essay

Title: by Vance Wright

Coming soon.

Untitled (A volar entre rocas), video

Video Visual Summary and Transcript

Video by:  Mariana Muñoz Gomez
Spanish Captions, and English subtitles by: Mariana Muñoz Gomez
Exhibition in Vancouver, September 2025, produced by: grunt gallery
Transcript by Kira Saragih and Kay Slater, July 2025
Open captions are displayed in the exhibition video.

An audio described track is available through the Yoto Audio players available at the welcome station. 

Visual Summary:  

A video of short scenes featuring life in Mexico.Throughout the film, there is a focus on the built environment, especially gates, fences and walls, and the varied materials used in their construction.

It begins with digital imagery inside a photo editing program, showing cropped images of plants. The footage shifts between the digital workspace and documentary-style clips filmed in urban and rural environments.

Scenes include a quiet pool with fish and turtles, a hilltop lookout in a rural town, and foliage in a park, juxtaposed against city footage from atop a moving bus or through a car window while driving. A brief scene shows a street protest with flags waving and shouts echoing beneath historical narration, within the otherwise quiet observational flow of the film. 

The video concludes back within the editing software, with a series of written reflections by the artist in both English and Spanish.

Note: The video contains audio in Spanish. Transcript is written in English for the exhibition, A volar entre rocas, hosted at grunt gallery. Any Spanish text will be identified, but not translated nor included in Spanish for the sake of English screen readers. Visual description has been integrated into the transcript.

Transcript:

Visual Description (ID): An extreme close-up of green leaves fills the screen. It is revealed to be a screen capture inside a photo editing program. A marquee selection outlines several leaves, its animated dotted line moving like a trail of ants. On a Mac desktop, application icons appear. The user tabs through: Safari’s compass icon, then QuickTime Player’s “Q” icon. QuickTime is selected. A dropdown menu opens, then closes. The screen recording overlay appears, with a marquee border surrounding the entire screen. The cursor clicks the stop button, ending the recording.  Now outdoors, gem-green water is filmed via a handheld camera. A sunlit fish darts away and exits. Nearby, small turtles swim slowly. Beneath the rippling surface, schools of fish move in tight formation. In the foreground, grasses at the water’s edge sway in the breeze, showing that the camera is positioned on shore.

00:00:43

[voces bajas e indiscernibles al fondo durante el clip] [indiscernible, soft voices in the background throughout]

ID: The camera shifts unsteadily as it’s moved by hand, then focuses on a larger turtle with a smaller turtle perched on its back. They rest on a submerged step near the shoreline. Deep cabbage red and kale green coloured leaves fan out like ribbons from plants growing at the water’s edge. Winged insects circle above. The smaller turtle’s head snaps side to side in quick, springy motions. Another turtle enters the frame from deeper water, and the smaller turtle turns sharply to watch it approach.

00:01:05

[un niño grita y se escucha que corre] [a child yells and can be heard running]

00:01:11

[voces bajas e imperceptibles al fondo] [indiscernible, soft voices in the background]

ID: The approaching turtle pivots and swims back toward the open, green-tinted water.

00:01:23

[sonido de algo raspando el suelo; voces bajas al fondo] [sound of something scraping on the floor; 

soft voices in the background]

ID: The sunny day creates a bright reflection on the water’s surface, with clouds and surrounding trees mirrored clearly in the water below. 7s

00:01:38

[indiscernible] “Do you see that little one? Do you see that little one?” 

[indiscernible] “¿Ves la pequeña? ¿Ves la pequeña?”

00:01:42

“Yeah”

“Sí”

[indiscernible, conversación baja] [indiscernible, soft conversation]

00:01:50

[sonido de algo raspando el suelo, alguien tose] [sound of something scraping on the floor, someone coughs]

ID: A large fish, the length of the resting turtle, swims just below the surface. Sunlight glints off its back as it passes out of frame.

00:02:22

[voces bajas e indiscernibles, gorgoreo de pájaros] [indiscernible, soft voices; birds chirping]

ID: A small turtle surfaces and swims toward the lounging turtles on the submerged step. As it approaches, its body is obscured by a bright glare on the water, disappearing into the sunlit reflection.

00:02:44

[alguien habla] [person speaking]

ID: The large fish reappears, swimming back into view.

---

ID: Cut to an aerial view of a town, seen from a green hillside.

00:02:51

“Ahí se ve Cholula…”

[voces al fondo] [voices in the background]

ID: The video captures a full panoramic view from a square, hilltop lookout. As the camera turns, the videographer’s thumb briefly covers part of the frame, and the hands and arms of other visitors come into view. The camera shifts from horizontal to vertical orientation as it completes the turn, capturing both the environment and the surrounding people.

The space is a paved patio made of clean, square stone. A low, waist-high ledge made of warm painted stone surrounds the area, creating a safe and visible boundary. Several visitors are seated or standing along the ledge, gazing out at the view or taking a rest. Most wear casual travel clothing, such as cotton shirts, jeans, and leggings, in pastel or neutral tones. The sky is overcast, but the brightness behind the clouds suggests full daylight beyond.

At the centre of the square stands a painted building. The visible side features alternating bands of mango and wine tones, interrupted by tall, vertical windows. Each window is edged with white painted trim, flat against the surface with no sill. A rusted iron grid is built into the wall, fully covering each window. Between the windows, wide, triangular stone columns jut outward and upward, forming a repeating structural feature that extends to the roofline. The first storey of the building is visible with a white metal railing tracing the top edge.

In the distance, the camera captures a sweeping view of a small city or large town. The buildings below are mostly low-rise, no more than three stories tall. A compact cluster of office towers marks the downtown area farther out. The surrounding landscape is dense with green trees and framed by rolling hills or soft, rounded mountains. The terrain feels rural, gentle, and expansive.

---

ID: From the top of a moving bus, now in the city. 

00:03:17

[el motor del camion se acelera ruidosamente] [engine of the bus revs loudly]

00:03:20

“A la derecha está el Palacio Nacional.”

ID: Cut to black.

---

ID: In front of a large, flat-leaved plant, another tree stretches upward. Behind them, tall bamboo stalks frame a grassy area.

00:03:27

[se eschucha un pájaro, chirriando] [bird chirping, squeaking]

---

ID: Through a car window, a row of parked cars line a street beside a stone wall covered in ivy. Sunlight reflects sharply off the car’s exterior.

00:03:39

[alarma de coche sona en la distancia] [car alarm going off in the distance]

00:03:53

[sonidos del coche en una calle llena de baches]

ID: The car turns a corner, still following the stone wall. The parked cars are gone. The continuous wall is interrupted at intervals by gated openings, revealing glimpses of yards or courtyards. As the car continues, the wall changes—some sections are painted with textured stone, others with red brick, and some plain white walls are covered in graffiti.

The car slows as it climbs a small hill, then turns left onto a new street. Here, the gates and buildings press directly against the sidewalk. The facades form an uninterrupted row, with no visible breaks between properties. Each is differentiated only by the colour or material of its gate or exterior—stone, metal, or painted surface. As the car speeds up, the building facades blur past the window.

00:04:00

[sounds of the car bumping along]

00:04:29

[sonidos del coche en una calle llena de baches, 

y el sonido suave del motor del coche] 

[bumps and soft sound of the car engine]

00:04:44

[chirridos de frenos] [car brakes squeaking]

00:05:17

“Siento que estoy ahí…”

ID: Various trees line the sidewalk–some with well-trimmed square crowns, others with crooked trunks, all casting shade onto the street. The car slows down to turn right, passing a few cars stopped at the intersection.

00:05:28

[chirridos de frenos] [car brakes squeaking]

00:05:37

“Quizás será un lunes,

alomejor martes,

jueves, domingo, miércoles…

y no recuerdo a dónde vamos ahora

pero, probablemente a la casa de mi tía…”

ID: The rows of properties disappear into a landscape of diverse green shrubberies, bordered by a row of metal fencing. The car turns left, following the bend of the road. Rows of short green bushes border the opposing lane, planted on a raised curb with the edges painted mustard-yellow.

00:06:05

[tarareo del coche en la carretera] [humming noise of the car on the road]

ID: Lush hedges border the sidewalk, backed by tall, overgrown trees that cast dense shadows. The row of trees gives way to bright, cloudy sky. A row of concrete walls replaces the green hedge. On them are various advertisements for different products. Caught between the walls and a neighbouring property is a glimpse of a lush, green field. The car slows down in front of a gas station as it comes to an intersection.

00:06:38

[chirridos de frenos] [car brakes squeaking]

ID: The car passes through the intersection into an area with uninterrupted rows of properties, including storefronts and garages with varying facades that echo previous areas the car passed by.

00:07:00

[alarma de un coche] [car alarm]

“Un día, aprendí que Cuauhnāhuac 

es el antiguo nombre de Cuernavaca, en Náhuatl.”

00:07:10

[suenan los coches pasando rápido] [sound of cars zooming by]

00:07:32

[alarma de coche sona en la distancia] [car alarm going off in the distance]

ID: The car slows as it goes over a speed bump, marked by yellow painted stripes on the road. It speeds up as it climbs a small hill where the road is marked by a few potholes and cracks in the pavement. The car slows down to go over a second speed bump in front of a storefront where parked cars sit next to neon orange road barriers. In front of neighbouring properties are more parked cars.

00:08:04

Aprendí que el escudo de la ciudad es un árbol

con…como que, aire que sale de su boca.

ID: The car comes to a stop in front of a white building with blue-tinted glass windows. It remains at a stop for a while.

00:08:19

[alguien tose] [someone coughs]

ID: Through the window, manicured trees with rectangular crowns decorate the facade of stuccoed building, casting a cooling shade on the sun-baked road. The leaves on the trees sway gently, shimmering as they reflect the bright sunlight.

00:08:30

[ronroneo del motor del coche] [low hum of car engine]

00:08:43

[alarma de coche sona en la distancia] [car alarm going off in the distance]

00:08:55

[el coche acelera] [car revs]

ID: The car starts to move, passing an intersection where cars are stopped, waiting at a light. Right after the intersection is an area filled with lush greenery. Tall trees tower over wild, overgrown shrubberies that peek over chain-metal fencing. The tree canopy opens to a glaring sun ray that casts a bright glow on the sky and the pavement. The greenery ends at a plain, brick-red building, marking the start of another row of properties.

00:09:30

[claxon] [honk]

ID: The car slows down as it goes over a series of consecutive speed bumps.

00:09:34

[golpes de construcción rítmicos] [rhythmic thumping of construction]

ID: Cars in the opposing lane also slow down due to the speed bumps.

00:09:44

[los golpes se aceleran] [thumping speeds up]

00:09:49

[golpe fuerte, luego se desvance y continúa en la distancia] [loud thump, then fades and continues in distance]

ID: The car speeds up again. The clip ends abruptly.

---

ID: Now filmed from the top of a tour bus. Protest unfolds on the street. Flags wave in the air as people fill the road below.

00:09:54

“— estación.” [gritos de una demonstración] [shouts from a protest]

“el castillo de Chapultepec, (indiscernible) así

con la prolongación de la Calle de Plateros; hoy, Madero.

A partir de la estatua de Carlos IV,

la avenida fue ampliada con el presidente Don Miguel Lerdo de

[charla en el camion] [chatter on the bus]

Don Miguel Lerdo de Tejada, (indiscernible) 

con camellonesa derecha e izquierda de 

bancas y de árboles y tiene una glorieta

justo colocada en el Monumento a Colón.

Durante el gobierno de Porfirio Díaz

se puso en otra glorieta

la estatua de Cuauhtémoc.

Se abrió el café —”

ID:  The screen turns black and remains blank while Spanish captions in a white, serif font appear at the bottom.

“¡Como! ¡Como no sabía…!”

---

ID: Now inside, a table and chairs are in deep shadow next to a sweet-pink flowered plant before a round glassless window overlooking a street. Peeking past the window’s metal grills, decorated with vertical bars and curving filigree that form a pair of hearts, a small stall with a faded, bitter-orange tarp roof stands in front of a stone-brick wall. Passersby walk leisurely on the street, chatting joyfully with their groups. A black car slowly makes its way down the road, interrupting the flow of pedestrians who quickly follow behind, coming from either direction.

00:10:36

[música fuerte, ¿tal vez una bossa nova lenta?] [loud music, maybe a slow bossa nova?] [la música continúa durante el clip] [music continues throughout] [sigue la música; redoble de platillos] [music continues; cymbal roll]

---

ID: Outside. From the ground, gazing up at towering trees with branches that outstretch into the sky and sunlight filtering through the leafy canopy.

00:11:34

[gorgoreo de pájaros, muy bajo] [very quiet bird sounds]

00:11:40

…¡y todas las veces que he ido a Tepoztlán!

---

ID: Back atop the bus, stopped beside an intersection in the city. Cars and buses pass by while a traffic patrol officer calmly monitors the area. A row of graffiti-covered concrete walls borders the edge of the sidewalk. Beyond the walls, in the distance, multi-story buildings rise over wild, overgrown bushes and trees.

00:11:46

[indiscernible, charla en el camion] [indiscernible, chatter on the bus]

00:12:13

“esa esta junta de Bellas Artes”

ID: The bus starts moving. The city street is full of people walking and biking on and around the sidewalk. The clip ends abruptly, cutting to a black screen.

---

ID: The bus moves through the buildings and trees. The bus stops in front of a pale blue building with metal lettering spelling “HOSPITAL”. A tall bronze statue stands in front, one hand on its opposing wrist, as if taking its own pulse. 

00:12:17

[chirridos de los frenos] [brakes squeaking]

00:12:22

“—estatua del famoso actor

y cómico mexicano Mario Moreno,

mejor conocido como Cantinflas,

a quien el público adoraba.

Enormemente popular en el mundo de habla hispana,

en sus películas

encarnará a un personaje malhablado,

pero entrañable, humilde, tierno, y (indiscernible),

que sumía (?) todas las desgracias

que el destino le deparaba

para salir siempre victorioso al final.”

ID: The bus moves on, passing a mix of modern and historical buildings that feature ornate facades. The neighbourhood features storefront shops as well as residential buildings with trees lining the sidewalk.

00:12:52

[el motor acelera] [engine revs]

“La antigua Avenida Jalisco

adoptó su actual nombre en 1929

a raíz del asesinato de Álvaro Obregón,

ex-presidente de la República Mexicana,

quien habitaba en el número 185.

El trazo de la calle de 45 metros de ancho

permitió la colocación de amplias

aceras laterales y un gran paseo arbolado

dotado de bancas y alumbrado

muy al estilo parisino.

En 1976 se colocaron a lo largo de la avenida

12 fuentes de cantera adornadas con

reproducciones de esculturas en bronce,

las cuales conforman el corredor

de las esculturas de artista del siglo XIX

de la Academia de San Carlos.”

00:13:39

[chirridos de frenos, charla] [brakes squeaking, chatter]

ID: The screen turns black.

---

ID: 

Through the window of a fast-moving car, wild greenery on the side of the highway blurs past. Cars in the opposing lane appear for only a split second.

00:13:51

[se escucha el aire recortando contra el micrófono] [air clipping against the microphone]

ID: The screen cuts to black.

---

ID: Inside a photo editing program, free-form cropped images of stone walls are layered on top of each other, with a prominent green-leafed plant in the bottom right corner. The stone walls have varying densities and ratios of rocks within them, some dark volcanic ash grey and others soft granite. The screen zooms in and out as a white circular cursor appears and begins to erase parts of the images, blending the harsh lines seamlessly into each other.

The artist reflects in white captions silently written on screen:

00:15:07

[Text: ] Google Maps tells me that the Tepozteco is a small pyramid at the top of that hike I never finished!

ID: The screen zooms in further. The circular cursor sweeps over the image using a photo editing tool that copies nearby stone textures to blend and brighten the area, particularly along the pale mortar between stones. As the cursor moves across a gap, part of the overlapping image disappears, briefly revealing the white-and-grey checkerboard background used in editing programs to show transparency. The background is quickly covered by another pass of the cursor. The cursor continues its detailed edits as captions appear on screen. They read:

00:15:20

[Text: ] El internet tells me that el Tepozteco was named after Tepoztécatl, god of pulque and fertility.

ID: The screen zooms in even further, scrolling up and down while the cursor moves around to touch up certain areas. Captions read:

00:16:11

[Text: ] Pues, ahí me distraigo por un rato…

ID: The screen zooms out, displaying a bigger picture that reveals a partial image of an arched window, framed by red bricks surrounded by a stone wall. The image has been cropped and edited to blend into the surrounding stone wall images. Parts of the background transparent canvas is exposed. Captions continue combining English and Spanish in the same lines of text.

00:16:19

[Text: ] …en las fotos de otros, veo ese estilo de pared 

en la ciudad rodeando la pirámide…

…veo gente sentándose, dangling their legs off the pyramid…

…veo rocas volcánicas…

…I see carved stones…

…a beautiful sunset on the hills…groups of people 

taking photos…restaurants…

…a group of hikers approaching some animals—marsupials? …

…veo posters informativos de la Secretaría de Cultura…

didactics written in Spanish and English.

ID: Zooming in gets up close to a section where two stone wall images border each other. The program’s layers panel opens on the right, a mouse cursor selects a different layer in the list, and the panel closes. The cursor blends the borders seamlessly. Various areas of the stone walls zoom in and out as the cursor continues blending sections of the image. To allow for more seamless stitching of the dark stone of one image with the light stone of another, the cursor uses a blurry, fuzzy technique with organic strokes so that the seams appear like the natural striations and dimensions of stone. Captions on screen continue.

00:19:01

[Text: ] These rocks have been here for hundreds, if not thousands, of years, absorbing and recording history.

ID: The edits continue. 

The screen zooms in so close that the images are blurred, the resolution not sufficient at this zoom. It shifts back so that the sharp lines still apparent between the layered photos is visible, and the edits continue. The top of the flat leaved plant peeks up from the bottom of the screen.

Focused on the green leafed plant, attention is given to edges between the leaves where the photos overlap. They are filled and blurred together.

The screen zooms in again allowing for micro edits where the overlap of the images are less apparent at regular magnification. A different brush tool is swapped in with a softer edge to create a feathery blur for the sharper edges.

The image zooms out fully, revealing the entire composition. In areas where the overlapping photos of differently sized and coloured stones have been edited, the surface begins to resemble a continuous rock face. Elsewhere, unfinished sections expose the white-and-grey checkerboard background of the editing program. The screen slowly fades to black. 

Credits: 

“Mariana Muñoz Gomez 2021/22”. 

Audio editing and mixing – J. Riley Hill,

Funded by:

Mentoring Artists for Women’s Art, 

Queer and Trans People of Colour Winnipeg, 

University of Manitoba Institute for the Humanities, Winnipeg Arts Council, and 

Manitoba Arts Council 

The screen goes black.

Artist Statement 

Falsework, curated by Mitch Kenworthy, is a collaboration between artists Simon Grefiel and kiyoshi. Guided by an ethos of care, support, and reciprocity, these artists make work that privileges the act and process of making. Evidenced throughout their interdisciplinary practices are materials and techniques readily gleaned from the various trades and construction work they do to earn a living. For Simon and kiyoshi, artwork and the work around it are not discrete activities.

In this exhibition, kiyoshi shows a scaffold-like platform built out of two-by-fours and plywood that he has sawed, burned, and belt sanded into a wrought index of both time and labour. A utilitarian structure, it serves as a means to install artwork and a stage for a performance. A plywood wall, also built by kiyoshi, frames and supports a three channel video by Simon. Composed of footage shot while working on a predominantly Filipino crew doing maintenance and fabrication on yachts in North Vancouver, Simon documents the tedium, camaraderie, pleasure, and beauty of working, while reflecting on histories and dynamics of Filipino marine labour.

In grunt gallery’s media lab, the artists present an ode to the job-site break room. Provisional furniture, a TV, a casual display of artworks and texts by friends, family, co-workers, and collaborators creates a setting for rest and respite. Facilitating hangouts and conversations, this space emphasizes the relationships and community in which Simon and kiyoshi’s practices are invariably situated and sustained.

Acknowledgements

kiyoshi dedicates his work in this exhibition to Mikiko and Gordon

Special thanks to Kevin Romaniuk, Christian Vistan, Brian and Maxine Kenworthy, Mariko Whitley, Marika Vandekraats, Mona Lisa Ali, Aubin Soonhwan Kwon, Keenan Christiansen, Sof Pickstone, Morgan Holt, David Bourne and especially everyone at grunt gallery for the care and support with which you have held this exhibition.

Artist Biographies

Simon Grefiel

Simon Grefiel is an artist whose work engages with ancient and colonial histories and practices from Southeast Asia and around the Pacific. Working with sculpture, found objects, drawings, and plant life, his explorations of language, dreams, spirits, familial stories and speculative narratives propose new ways of experiencing the supernatural realm and material universe. Grefiel is a Waray-Waray speaker born and raised in Tacloban City, Philippines and currently lives on the unceded traditional territories of the xwməθkwəy̓əm (Musqueam), Sḵwx̱wú7mesh (Squamish), and səlilwətaɬ (Tsleil-Waututh) Nations. His work has been exhibited and screened at the Vancouver Art Gallery, Ground Floor Art Centre, and Libby Leshgold Gallery in Vancouver, and Gallery TPW in Toronto, ON.

Visit Grefiel’s Instagram page here:
instagram.com/sa4iiii/

kiyoshi

kiyoshi is an artist living and working on the Musqueam, Squamish, and Tsleil-Waututh territories, colonially known as Vancouver, British Columbia. His practice encompasses architecture, performance, woodworking, and writing. Community is central to his way of working and being, something he attributes to having spent his formative years growing up in cooperative housing.

Visit kiyoshi’s Instagram page here:
instagram.com/k._yo_sh.__ijiji/

Mitch Kenworthy

Mitch Kenworthy maintains a painting practice that is vested in the daily rhythms and processes of studio work, engaging in writing and more recently, curation as adjacent modes of inquiry into doing, making, and working. He has shared texts, shown paintings, and contributed in an organizational capacity to various artist-led projects and initiatives in and around so-called Vancouver, where he resides as an uninvited guest on the unceded and stolen lands of the Musqueam, Squamish, and Tsleil-Waututh.

Visit kiyoshi’s Instagram page here:
instagram.com/k._yo_sh.__ijiji/

Tactile Object (welcome station)

Note: a laminated PDF in gallery of this transcript is also available.

Tactile Objects:

2D Site Map

3D Dollhouse Gallery Map

Tactile Patterns: 

The following patterns are available as tactile objects within the welcome station:

• Logo: A logo in the style of an industrial brand which features the names of Mitch within a horizontal oval and Sai & Kiyoshi within a horizontal bar and the show’s title Falsework, created by artist Simon Grefiel

Creative Access Audio Tour

[ Kay: ] Welcome to grunt gallery’s creative access audio tour of Falsework, the exhibition project by artists, Simon Grefiel and kiyoshi, curated by Mitch Kenworthy. My name is Kay Slater. I am a white, hard-of-hearing, queer settler on these stolen and unceded Coast Salish lands. As the accessibility and exhibitions manager and preparator here at grunt, I assisted in installing this work. We welcome your feedback as we develop more creative access tools for our gallery and exhibitions.

This tour has four chapters. Chapter 4 is in 6 parts related to the different exhibits in gallery. At the start of each chapter, you will hear this sound of a page turning:

( Page flips )

First is this intro. In Chapter One, I will detail entering the space and orienting yourself in the gallery. In Chapter Two, I’ll describe our welcome station and the objects available for you to use and touch. Chapter Three covers our facilities, washrooms, and C-Care stations. If you’re ready to tour the show, skip to Chapter Four, where the exhibition tour was written and narrated by curator Mitch Kenworthy. He will begin by reading the wall didactic and will walk you through the show. If you are skipping ahead, be aware that the welcome station has 2 tactile maps marked to help you navigate this tour. When Mitch moves to a new artwork, you will hear this sound of a handheld drill:

( Hand drill whirrrrrs )

Each artwork description within Chapter Four is divided into its own audio part so you can skip or return to an artwork description as you move through the show at your own pace.

Let’s get started with Chapter One.

( Page flips )

Creative Access Audio Tour – Chapter One

When approaching grunt gallery at 350 East Second Avenue from the accessible drop-off on Great Northern Way, follow the sidewalk to the building’s main entrance. Turn left at the entrance, and you’ll find us at the first exterior door, unit 116. A low-grade ramp leads to our front double doors, with automatic door buttons at waist and ankle level on a post to the right. Be cautious of the small lip at the threshold, a potential tripping hazard. Excluding Thursdays, masks are now optional and only recommended indoors at grunt; if you forgot yours, we have extras near the entrance and will not enforce their use outside of Thursdays for low-sensory and voice-off visiting hours.

Welcome to grunt gallery! We are situated on the occupied, stolen, and ancestral territory of the Hul’qumi’num and Sḵwx̱wú7mesh speaking peoples, specifically the land of the X’wmuthqueyem, Sḵwx̱wú7mesh, and Selilwitulh peoples and families. We are grateful to be here.

The current show has two installations built up from the ground and jutting from the wall. There a wide space to walk through the centre of the gallery, and all work is cane detectable and touchable. If you require assistance and are not greeted by staff upon entry, please call for help. Staff are in the office and will assist you as soon as possible. We are always happy to walk the show with you.

The public gallery space is a white cube with 20-foot walls on three sides and a 12-foot south wall that opens at the top for 8 feet before reaching the ceiling, providing light to the loft office space beyond. The office is not visible from the gallery, except for a large convex mirror that allows staff to see visitors. A tone rings when people enter the space.

On low-sensory and voice-off Thursdays, a staff member will be available but will not greet you, allowing you to move at your own pace. If you are non-visual, low-vision or Blind, call out for help anytime. If you are sighted, please silently approach a staff member. Staff will respond either through text-to-speech or will speak softly to assist you to preserve the quiet atmosphere and low-sensory programming. We have hard-of-hearing staff on site, so a visual wave may be required to get their attention.

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Creative Access Audio Tour – Chapter Two

As you enter the gallery, immediately to the right on the west wall is a sanitization and welcome station. The station is white with black labels in English, high-contrast icons, and some braille labels. There are three open shelves, including the top surface and two pull-out shelves below, and two closed drawers with d-hook handles.

On top of the welcome station is our gallery spider plant, Comos, who is watered on Wednesdays by our volunteer attendant Jinnie Saran. The top surface holds a leather-bound guestbook with a black pen, a bottle of hand sanitizer, and a box of masks with tongs. A digital tablet allows you to browse the exhibition page on our grunt.ca website or access our Big Cartel eCommerce store. The voice-over is turned off on the iPad, but can be turned on upon request.

On the first pull-out shelf, on the left, is the exhibition binder with large print information about the space, the show, the artist, a transcript of this tour, and the exhibition map. On the right are a series of tactile objects. Our tactile objects are creative access tools designed to create a point of entry for non-visual, Blind, or partially sighted guests who may wish to experience the work through touch or by bringing the objects close. However, tactile objects are also sensory objects that can be used by sighted folks who wish to feel a connection to the work and those who enjoy or are supported by having objects in their hands to touch. 

These tactile objects are provided as a sensory point of entry into the works and are not necessarily representative of the work or equivalent to experiencing the works through explorative touch. This show in particular can be touched, but some of the wood is raw and unfinished, so please take care in exploring to avoid splinters. The tactile objects here can be carried and explored liberally. We do not present these objects assuming that you have never had access to a charred and carved piece of wood, but we are also not assuming that you have had these experiences. Smell them, hold them, observe them. Use them however you’d like as you engage with the show.

On the second pull-out shelf, to the left, are laminated maps of the space. Also within these shelves are two tactile maps. 

A tactile dollhouse map of the gallery, and a flat 2D tactile map of the spaces past the gallery box. Use the dollhouse and 2D tactile maps to follow along with chapter 4 of this creative access tour while in gallery. Works are indicated by small-scale versions of the installations in the dollhouse map with braille markers A through H. 

On the laminated map, all the installations are named by the artists. It is worth noting that kiyoshi writes his name all in lower case without a last name, and his works are also listed all in lower case.

To the right of the maps are two Yoto audio players with large, friendly buttons. These players contain this tour and audio of any text within the binder. There is also a scannable, laminated QR code that links to this audio tour. On Thursdays, the Yoto players are moved to their carrying cases for use with headphones.

Below these are the two closed drawers. The first contains carrying cases with straps for headphones and the Yoto audio devices, allowing hands-free use. There are also tactile stim objects made by local artist Veto Monteiro.

The lowest drawer contains earmuffs for large and small bodies, specifically for those with noise sensitivities.

That concludes the description and tour of the welcome station. In the next chapter, I will tell you about our washrooms and care stations. If you’d prefer to continue with the exhibition tour, skip to Chapter Four.

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Creative Access Audio Tour – Chapter Three

If you need to use the washroom, it’s at the far end of our space. Exit the gallery through the doorway and continue following the west wall (to your right when you entered). Pass by the media lab, and when you reach the back wall, take a left and walk through the small kitchenette to our single-room, gender-neutral washroom.

If you’re using the 2D tactile map, the washrooms are located at H.

An automated door button to the right holds the washroom door open for 14 seconds. You can also push it open if it’s unoccupied. Inside, to the right of where you entered, is the lock button which creates a visual indicator that the washroom is in use. To exit, you can open the door manually or hover your hand over a button above the sink, below the mirror.

Near the exit button is a vertical cubby stack of supplies. Please help yourself to items like hair ties, disposable floss, sanitary napkins, and condoms. This is part of our C-Care program, Community Care for Artist-Run Events.

Speaking of C-Care, we have a tea station in our media lab at location F. If you need some energy, you can help yourself to a drink or a puréed fruit snack. This offering may occasionally be put away during low sensory hours, but you can always ask our team for a drink or snack.

In the media lab, a long table is placed perpendicular to the entrance (on your left as you approach from the gallery) with a variety of chairs closest to the gallery, and a handmade bench on the far side. The space is also decorated with objects, zines and posters shared by collaborators to the artists and curators. This space has been designed as a public gathering and hang out space during the run of the show. Have a seat, have a tea, and check out the various objects. These have been listed and described in the show binder and digital description site. Feel free to hang out, chat, draw and take a break here.

If you’re using the 2D tactile map, the C-Care tea station and break room is at location G marked by 3 rectangles.

We now arrive at Chapter Four, where Mitch will start his exhibition tour next to the welcome station at location A, as if we had just entered the gallery and stepped right to sanitize our hands and grab a map.

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Creative Access Audio Tour – Chapter Four

Part one: show introduction and didactic

[ Mitch Kenworthy: ] Hello, my name is Mitch, and I am the curator of this exhibition. I wrote and narrated this script and will take you on a tour of what I see in the gallery. 

I am starting this tour at the welcome station, Location A on the tactile maps in the gallery. Above the welcome station, there is a black vinyl exhibition logo installed on the gallery wall. This vinyl was designed by Simon in reference to the logo of a trades or construction company. The stylized font that Simon used in this design is derived from the font used on Tyvek rainscreen material, a moisture barrier often visible on the sides of buildings under construction. The vinyl reads: “Falsework,” underneath which it reads “Sai & kiyoshi”, with a horizontal oval containing the text “Mitch” located at the top left above the “F” in “Falsework.” I will note that Simon goes by both Simon and Sai, and opted to use Sai for his name on this. Beneath the stylized logo, the vinyl reads in plain text “curated by Mitch Kenworthy, May 1 to June 14, 2025.” This same vinyl, but in white, is also installed on the glass of the front doors of grunt gallery and is viewable from the exterior. 

From the welcome station, I am going to walk into the centre of the gallery space and turn to my right so that I am facing the west wall of grunt gallery. 

( Hand drill whirrrrrs )

Part two: past future past

I am now looking at Location B on the tactile maps. Titled past future past, this piece is a large wooden structure built by kiyoshi that stands against the gallery wall. It is constructed out of two-by-fours and plywood. It is approximately nine feet tall, eight feet across, with a depth of about four feet. The structure can be touched and is cane detectable.

There are four large casters installed on the base of this structure. They are a bright, juicy red colour which pops out and adds a stylish flair to the piece. The casters are locked, but if we were to unlock them, the structure could be rolled throughout the space by pushing it. For safety, there is also a carabiner attaching the structure to a metal hook on the wall. A carabiner is a metal hook with a latch that can be easily fastened and unfastened. It is used to link objects together. 

kiyoshi made this piece in reference to a scaffold platform that workers on a jobsite use to climb on top of in order to work at heights not accessible from the ground. This piece is sturdy, and can be used as such; kiyoshi and myself climbed on top of it in order to install some artwork over the top windows of grunt gallery that I will describe later on in this tour. To get on top of it, kiyoshi and I used a ladder. There is no ladder in the exhibition space right now. 

Some of the two-by-fours that kiyoshi used to construct this piece are plain bare wood, but other two-by-fours have squiggly, blackened patterns burned onto them. kiyoshi made these patterns by pouring grains of rice onto the wood that marked out the patterns, and then used a propane torch to burn the wood. The areas that had rice on them were protected from the torch’s flame and thus did not burn and blacken. On top of the structure are horizontally placed panels of plywood that make up the floor of the platform. 

Installed on the underside of the platform is a fluorescent light, the bulb of which has been taped with transparent red Tuck Tape branded tape, so that it casts a warm, reddish glow onto the space beneath. kiyoshi loves using Tuck Tape and it is a material that makes its way into many of his artworks. 

Tuck Tape is commonly used in construction as a strongly adhesive and water resistant tape, and it was through working various construction jobs that kiyoshi developed his affinity for it. kiyoshi and I shared a studio together and are also roommates. In the context of sharing these different spaces, I have seen him use Tuck Tape to decorate all sorts of surfaces and apply Tuck Tape over various light fixtures and lightbulbs to create a warm and ambient glow. As you will come to realize, Tuck Tape is present throughout this exhibition, and there are a few places where it can be touched. 

Underneath the scaffold structure are two white plastic deck chairs that face outwards, towards where I am standing. The “roof-like” top of the structure is 8 feet tall, so you don’t need to worry about bumping your head if you walk underneath it. If you like, you may sit on one of these plastic chairs. The backs are a little bit bendy,  but they are stable. They might have been the cheapest plastic chairs that we could purchase at Canadian Tire. kiyoshi wanted to reference the cheap and provisional seating that he is accustomed to finding on the various construction sites that he has worked on, which workers use to sit down and take a coffee break, smoke a cigarette, or have their lunch.

Mounted onto the back of this structure is a square piece of plywood set in a frame of two-by-fours. The plywood looks weathered and worn. Its surface is intensely patterned with burned and blackened lines that follow and accentuate the wood’s natural grain. kiyoshi used a propane blow torch to make the burns, and a belt sander and skill saw to carve reductive marks and gestures into the plywood. In some places, the marks go so deep that they breach the plywood, creating wound-like holes. 

A belt sander is one of Kiyoshi’s most used tools. It is an electric hand tool used to sand and smooth the surfaces of wood and lumber. A belt sander has two handles on the top and a continuous loop of sandpaper on the bottom that, when powered on, rotates very fast and with significant force. It is thus an efficient way to sand down a large or rough surface. kiyoshi does not use a belt sander in a traditional way, but works intuitively with it to create interesting and unexpected marks and gestures, kind of like he is drawing or sculpting the wood with it. On this plywood, some of the marks are thinner lines, and some are broader gestures. kiyoshi achieved these different marks by employing a variety of different motions with the belt sander, as well as cutting it with a skill saw. 

While this plywood looks rough and weathered, the belt sander has created a surface that is surprisingly smooth and pleasurable to touch. You can run your hand over the surface and feel the various grooves and marks in the wood. kiyoshi has always encouraged people to engage haptically with his work, appreciating through touch the different surfaces that he creates. Even though this surface is smooth, the areas where the belt sander has made holes in the wood could still be a little bit sharp and you want to be cautious of splinters.

I am going to walk forward so that I am underneath the structure, and sit down in one of the plastic chairs. 

( Hand drill whirrrrrs )

Now, I am comfortably seated on one of the chairs. Above my head, like a ceiling, is the underside of the sheets of plywood that make up the platform on which someone on top of this structure would stand. The surface of the plywood is very lightly blackened with burned marks and gestures. Inset in the plywood, directly over my head, is the square fluorescent light panel that kiyoshi customized with red Tuck Tape. There are many criss-crossed layers of tape and they have some punctured slits and cuts. Straight ahead to the east wall of grunt gallery is a plywood wall built by kiyoshi that supports an installation of videos by Simon playing on three monitors. To my left are the front windows and entrance of grunt gallery. The windows have an installation of Tuck Tape on them.

I am going to get up from this chair now, walk forward and then turn to the left so that I am facing north. 

( Hand drill whirrrrrs )

Part three: notes

I am now in front of Location C on the tactile map. This piece is also by kiyoshi. It is titled notes. It is an installation of Tuck Tape on the right hand side of the gridded north facing front windows of grunt gallery, as well as the central top window. The Tuck Tape has been applied on every second window pane to create an alternating checker-like pattern. 

The Tuck Tape on each window pane has been applied the same way.  It makes a rectangle pattern that encompasses the entire width and length of the window pane. The pattern is made out of strips of Tuck Tape applied starting from the top right corner that follow the edge of the window in a counterclockwise direction, filling in the space with concentric rectangles that diminish in size. In the very centre, a thin, single strip is left un-taped. This makes a narrow rectangular slit that I can still see the exterior through. 

The top window panes on this grid of windows are quite high, and kiyoshi specifically designed the aforementioned scaffold structure so that he could reach these top windows and install the Tuck Tape onto them. kiyoshi and I wheeled the scaffold platform to the windows and used a ladder to climb onto it. From there, he cut strips of Tuck Tape the appropriate length and handed them to me. I then applied them. When we finished, we wheeled the structure back to its position against the west wall.

You can gently touch the Tape Tape and feel the subtle texture made by the overlapping layers. Looking through the Tuck Taped portion of the windows, I can still make out vague shapes of foliage and see the road with cars driving past the gallery, but everything is slightly hazy and is tinted red. 

kiyoshi enjoys working in situ and responding to conditions like space and light. While he knew that he wanted to do something over the windows of grunt gallery, the exact form of notes was developed over the course of the installation. In helping kiyoshi install this piece, I gained a similar appreciation for Tuck Tape as he has. It is easy to stick onto the windows, and easy to tear or cut. It can also be peeled off the windows without too much difficulty. It is a very practical material, and I now understand why kiyoshi always has a roll of Tuck Tape around. 

I am now going to turn my body to the right. Installed on the east wall of grunt gallery is a plywood wall built by kiyoshi titled I love you as a thought, with three monitors mounted onto it playing videos by Simon. This is Location D on the tactile map, but I haven’t moved yet from the windows. Let me describe what I see still standing near the windows. 

The wall is made out of three eight foot high by four foot wide plywood panels that are screwed into a two-by-four frame. This frame holds the plywood panels off of the gallery wall by about a foot and a half. From my current position, I am looking at the north facing side of the piece, and I can see the gap between the plywood and the wall, where kiyoshi has installed three speakers on stands. I also see the power and audio cables that are running from the monitors through the plywood. This peak into the behind the scenes of how the work is powered and where the sound plays from is something I appreciate, allowing an insight into the process and care that kiyoshi put into installing this work. 

I am going to walk into the centre of the gallery space and turn to face the east wall, so that I am looking directly at this plywood wall, Location D on the tactile map.

( Hand drill whirrrrrs )

Part four: i love you as a thought

I am now standing in front of Location D on the tactile map. For now, I will ignore the monitors playing Simon’s videos, and focus on describing the plywood wall onto which they are mounted. The three eight foot tall by four foot wide panels are standard dimensions of plywood; kiyoshi has not cut them down, but instead based this wall on these dimensions. kiyoshi has again used a belt sander to make marks and gestures into the plywood. Plywood is made out of multiple very thin layers of wood veneer that have been glued and compressed together, and kiyoshi’s belt sanded marks reveal these layers, allowing me to see and feel their slight variation in colour and texture. The three panels look like they were all belt sanded together. Gestures on the left most panel move into the centre panel and can be traced all the way to the far right panel. 

The gestures are large and sweeping. While abstract in nature, the shapes and lines have an organic quality to them. I think about the marks left in wood by a termite, or the roots and branches of a tree. The gestures on the central panel are the most dense. The bottom right quadrant of this central panel has an especially worked area. Where the marks on most of the panels look like they were made by a smooth and rocking motion with the belt sander, the bottom right area looks to be worked in a staccato-like swooping and sculpting motion. The plywood is still smooth to the touch, but notably rougher than the previously described plywood that is mounted onto the piece past future past. Particularly rough is the bottom right area of the central plywood panel. You are again free to touch, but do so lightly and be wary of splinters. 

I will now describe the video installation that plays on the three monitors mounted onto the plywood wall. The piece is titled Ceremony for Smoke and Mirrors and is Location E on the tactile map. These videos are a three channel installation and are meant to be viewed all at the same time. I find myself spending some time with a scene from one video, then moving my gaze to another, then observing what is happening on all three at the same time. Each video is about a ten minute loop and is composed of multiple short, static shots. The shots fade from one shot to another, and at points one shot is even overlaid on top another shot. 

Much of footage in these videos was shot by Simon on the docks of North Vancouver, where for several years he was employed on a predominantly Filipino crew doing maintenance and fabrication on luxury yachts. Simon would shoot videos of himself and his co-workers going about their daily work and tasks. The footage included here consists of scenes of painting, constructing furniture, doing deck maintenance, cleaning, and other scenes of work. Due to an issue with permanent residency paperwork, Simon was unable to return from a recent trip to SouthEast Asia, and he completed the edit of these videos from his sister’s home in the Philippines. Included in the videos is footage from his time on this trip. Scenes of working on yachts in North Vancouver fade into scenes from the Philippines, such as a military parade or a shot of Simon’s relative taking him out fishing on a traditional wood boat and showing him how to bait a hook. These shots are also interspersed with footage downloaded from TikTok that show Filipino workers on freighters and cargo ships dancing to Budots (b-u-d-o-t-s) music, as well as Simon taking selfie videos of himself dancing in his room. 

Budots is a specific form of electronic music and dance that originated in working class areas of the southern Philippines, and in recent years has become popular across the Philippines. The music is fun, and the dance involves bending one’s knees, slowly gyrating at the hips, and moving one’s hands in tight circular motions above the head. 

The sounds in each video play over top of one another. It was Simon’s intention to reference the din and noise of a worksite, where the sounds of tools, music, banter and conversation all overlap. 

I have now described all of the works in the main exhibition space. From here, I am going to orient myself to the south and begin walking to the back of grunt gallery. On the west wall, to the left of past future past, there is more vinyl on the wall. This vinyl has the same logo and font as the other vinyl, with added text below that reads “Break Room, Exhibition Continues” with an arrow directing me to continue to the back room of grunt gallery. I walk past the stairs on my left hand side that lead to the upstairs offices and I am now in the Break Room.

( Hand drill whirrrrrs )

Part five: break room

The Break Room is Location G on the tactile map. The Break Room consists of a long white table along with rolling chairs and a bench for sitting. The rolling chairs can be pushed aside so that a wheelchair can be pulled up to the table. Installed in this space is a collection of artworks and texts by people who make up the community that kiyoshi, Simon, and myself call our friends, family, co-workers, and collaborators. Some of this material is placed on the table that is in the centre of the room, other pieces are installed and hung on the walls around it. This is a casual space, with a casual display of artworks. Myself and the artists want people to feel comfortable to take a seat here, appreciate the collection of materials available, or just hang out and enjoy a conversation. The grunt team also invites you to pour a cup of tea.

With that being said, I encourage you to take a seat. I am going to sit down on the south side of the table, on a bench that kiyoshi built out of wood. This bench should also be touched, as it has a delightfully smooth, bevelled edge to it. 

I will now provide a brief overview of The Break Room. For full visual descriptions of the artworks on display, you may consult the exhibition binder. Looking at artworks in this room is a bit like a treasure hunt; they are informally displayed throughout the space, and invite conversation and questions about who made it, what it is, why it might have been included. At the end of the day, the relaxed atmosphere of the space as a whole is more important than the individual works. 

The Break Room was conceived by the artists as an ode to a jobsite break room, where workers eat their lunch, enjoy a moment of quietude, or hang out with their co-workers away from the boss’s gaze. Over the course of producing this exhibition, Simon spoke a lot about the break room at his job on the docks of North Vancouver. Simon’s break room had a pool table in it. He and his fellow co-workers enjoyed games during lunch or after the work day. For a brief moment, he hoped he could bring a pool table into this break room. For multiple reasons, that was not feasible. Simon also spoke about the dynamics that took place in his break room. It was a space where he and his co-workers could freely complain about the bosses and the wealthy owners of the yachts they worked on. It was also a place they shared food, enjoying communal lunches in a manner that the few white co-workers on his jobsite were unaccustomed to. In a reading that Simon presented several years ago on his yacht work experiences, I recall Simon noting a particular white coworker who was new on the job. He would bring his lunch and eat it alone out of his tupperware, while eyeing the food that the Filipinos brought to share with one another. After a few weeks on the job, this person also began bringing food to share with the others, taking part in the pleasure and camaraderie of a communal lunch. This past August, myself and the artists met to go over some particulars of this exhibition. Simon brought up the idea of a break room being part of this show. kiyoshi and I readily agreed.

On the table of the Break Room is a collection of zines, some ceramic pieces, a flan tin with candles. At the west end of the table is a coil bound sketchbook and black ink pen. Guests are invited to write, doodle, or draw in the sketchbook. Beside the sketchbook is a saddle stitch stapler. This stapler was used by Kay Slater to bind kiyoshi’s zine. kiyoshi was curious how the saddle stitch stapler worked, and when Kay brought it out, kyioshi requested that it be included with the breakroom material, so that if people wanted to, they could staple together their own zines. 

On the east end of the table there is a small 22” TV monitor that plays a video by kiyoshi. This is Location F on the tactile map. The TV stands on a homemade mount that kiyoshi made out of two-by-fours and Tuck Tape. The tension of the Tuck Tape is what keeps the monitor upright, so be very gentle if you wish to touch it. 

The TV plays a video piece by kiyoshi titled 7-9-1 body break. 7-9-1 body break is composed of a looped series of shots taken out the window of a car while driving. All of the shots are a pinkish hue that kiyoshi achieved by taping a piece of Tuck Tape over the lens of the iPhone used to shoot this footage, effectively making a filter out of the Tuck Tape. The video has an ambient, background-like quality to it. It is like having a TV on that you are not fully paying attention to. 

On the walls are some photographs Tuck Taped up in the temporary fashion of posters, a few drawings, and a poster that reads: “Fuck your job, money is fake, society isn’t natural, and the sun is going to explode.”  There is also a trucker’s cap with the Tuck Tape logo, and another poster with a clock that shows it is beer o’clock. In a provisional and in-progress manner, an unsecured diagonal corner shelf made from pieces of two-by-fours supports a lamp made out of a vacuum filter.

Along the south wall, there is a piece of plywood that has a black and white print placed onto it, and a plinth on the ground, on top of which are several sculptures made from different materials, like cement, left over sticker paper, and kitchen strainers. The collection is eclectic, fun, and showcases the breadth of the community in which myself and the artists’ practices are situated and supported. Check out the binder for more details on each of these objects, and keep checking back, as the artists plan to add more objects throughout the course of this exhibition. 

That concludes the tour. 

( Hand drill whirrrrrs )

Part six: conclusion

[ Kay: ] With that, we conclude the described tour of Falsework. Later, during the exhibition’s run, we will have a publication available for the show and an alternative text version available in plain text or AI-generated audio, both on our website and through the Yoto players in gallery.

Thank you so much for joining us on this creative access audio tour! We’d love to hear your thoughts on this experience and how we can improve it. If you carried any tactile object(s) during the tour, please return it to the welcome station! We acknowledge that we cannot be everything to everyone, and respect that our creative access explorations may not serve your needs. You can reach us at access@grunt.ca or chat with any of the staff on site with any feedback you have the capacity to provide.

Thank you again.

Curatorial Essay

Falsework: Simon Grefiel & kiyoshi

by Mitch Kenworthy

Out of another rebar latticed pit emerges another homogenous glass and concrete building. I pass multiple construction sites on my way to work each day. I appreciate the daily progress of a thing being built; the itinerant liminality of a scaffold exoskeleton, the slender verticality of falsework columns supporting freshly poured layers of concrete slab, the bright white rectangle of a piece of Tyvek billowing in the wind like a sail. I prefer the under construction to the constructed. I prefer the means to the ends. Better to write about the working, and the way the work is done.

“I LOVE baseball!” So goes the refrain in a text kiyoshi wrote and presented as a public reading a few years ago. I can attest, as kiyoshi’s friend, roommate, and former studiomate, that he does indeed love baseball. Watching baseball, playing baseball, “the most pastoral sport,” kiyoshi declares. Over the years, he has filled me in on the finer points of the game, from oddball pitching techniques and bullpen tactics, to the proletarian ethos of careers spent bouncing around the minor leagues. Sitting in the dugout, kicking at grass in the outfield, the pleasure of swinging a real wood bat; located in kiyoshi’s love of baseball is an appreciation for rhythmic slowness and haptic beauty that maps aptly onto his expansive and embodied practice. 

I knew kiyoshi at first primarily as a performance-based artist. His pieces somatically engaged space and architecture in a manner plainly legible in his material work, where a performative spirit lingers in the emphasis that he puts on the act of doing and making. kiyoshi privileges process and is attuned to the attendant sensations and pleasures of working on things. He works slowly, whittling away in the studio, working on other things; gardening, fashioning furniture for his bedroom out of appropriated lumber, redesigning the interior of our apartment. These activities are all significant to his practice, a practice in which he not only responds to the conditions that he is situated in at a given time, but actively constructs them. 

kiyoshi is keenly sensitive to the spaces he inhabits. In the studio that we shared, he walled in his section with two-by-fours and plywood. I was struck by the fact that he didn’t make this space and then make work within it. Rather, the space was his work. During this period, kiyoshi spent most of his spare time at the studio—even surreptitiously living there—and his space reflected his needs and desires at a given point; closing in, opening up, summarily deconstructed, reconfigured, and rebuilt in what was a years-long pursuit of architecting a space. The back doors of this studio opened up into a well traversed alleyway in Vancouver’s Riley Park neighbourhood. kiyoshi preferred them ajar, using the exterior to do his messier woodwork (notably burning and belt sanding lumber that made up the walls of his space). I appreciated the generosity with which he engaged passersby, conversing with them about what he was up to, establishing relationships with regulars. This way of working was out of necessity, keeping sawdust and fumes away from his studiomates. But there was also a clear affinity for the social and public context. 

In the tools and materials that kiyoshi uses, necessity and affinity meet again. There is an economic frugality at play. He has the tools he uses because of the jobs that he works. Materials like lumber are often collected in the form of leftovers and offcuts and are then reused in multiple projects, becoming wrought indexes of his labour in the process. But there is also a familiar affection for these tools and materials, one born out of long hours working with them in various trades and construction jobs. Formative to kiyoshi are the years he spent working for his father’s contracting company doing renovations around Vancouver. Days spent in rooms and buildings in various stages of construction and demolition are alluded to in the bare and unfinished stance of his woodworked structures. 

In Falsework, kiyoshi shows a plywood wall and scaffold-like platform, respectively titled past future past and i love you as a thought. These works importantly also do work; the plywood wall supporting a series of monitors playing videos by Simon, and the scaffold-like platform functioning as a stage for a performance and a means to install notes, the Tuck Tape installation across the top windows of grunt gallery. Much of the lumber that kiyoshi used to construct these pieces formed the walls of his current studio space. Dismantled, brought to grunt gallery and constructed in situ, the works and the site of their production are effectively collapsed. 

Last summer, I attended a beer-league baseball game that kiyoshi was playing in. He wore a Ford branded trucker cap that he had tie-dyed with bleach in our bathtub, reflective red cycling sunglasses purchased on his way to a landscaping gig, and a pair of electric blue cleats with knee high socks. His stance at bat had the same singular flair as his outfit; acutely crouched while dramatically shifting his weight from foot to foot. Between innings, kiyoshi offered me a beer pulled out of a waxed cardboard produce box that he had fashioned into a front rack for his bicycle and adorned with Tuck Tape. Everything kiyoshi does is approached with a certain aesthetic flourish, an appreciation for the potentials of ruggedly utilitarian matter, and an ethos of care. I think about a quote by Jan Verwoert that kiyoshi shared with me in an epistolary exchange of writing from one of our previous projects, “and why do we often enough go to extremes to do the things we seek to do in the way we think they need to be done? Because we care.”

My first engagement with Simon’s practice was caring for his plants. Potted in vessels made out of delicately sautered stained glass, they were shown in Flying Kiss for Receiving Cheek, an exhibition in the window space of The Libby Leshgold Gallery, where I work. It was 2021 and we were in the midst of COVID-19 lockdowns and restrictions. Access to the gallery was limited and discouraged. The windowed exhibition space heated up like a greenhouse in the sun, and Simon’s plants withered without daily watering. A banana tree was particularly mal-affected. During this unstable and uncertain time, my days took on a rhythm based on biking down to the gallery every afternoon to ensure these plants were properly watered and cared for. To my great pleasure, by the close of the exhibition the banana tree was thriving and had even begun to sprout new fronds. 

Following this exhibition, the plants and stained glass vessels were shipped to the Vancouver Art Gallery, where they were included in that year’s Vancouver Special triennial. Concern over fluctuating relative humidity levels meant that staff at the VAG were stingy with watering, reportedly telling Simon it could impact their ability to one day borrow a Rembrandt. When I attended the exhibition, the banana tree was in a sadly withered state. It presented a very different read than one fecund and verdant; a victim of colonial museology, whose care ironically came second to borrowing a work by a painter ensconced in a Dutch Golden Age contingent on VOC exploitation of Austronesia.  

Last year, I visited Simon’s studio. Neatly organized in one of his workbench drawers were the pieces of stained glass from the vessels in which the banana tree and other plants were shown. He had taken them apart and was refashioning them into new work. The glass was stored along with the rest of his vast collection of materials: pieces of teak, tubes of silicone and marine caulking, dried plants, memorabilia from the Philippines, offcuts of wood and myriad other items. Like kiyoshi, Simon reworks the same materials into multiple pieces and projects, and readily gleans these materials from his various day jobs. The stained glass were offcuts collected while Simon worked as a studio assistant for artist Julian Hou. Other materials were collected as leftovers from his job at the docks in North Vancouver, where Simon was employed on a predominantly Filipino crew doing maintenance and fabrication on high end yachts. It was here that he shot much of the footage for his three channel video installation, Ceremony for Smoke and Mirrors.

Expanding on his propensity to collect and gather material, the videos in this installation are composed from a vast archive of digital material shot and saved on Simon’s phone. They are edited in a way that, to quote the artist, maintains “a social media vernacular.” Simon is active on social media. His instagram stories, which I understand as an extension of his practice and desire to create and communicate, showcase insights into the places and communities in which he is situated at a given time, time lapses of a day’s work, research into interconnected Austronesian pasts and presents, notes on the politico-ethno-linguistic significance of Filipino budots music, and scenes of raves and dance parties that for Simon are of course a form of research, too. They provide a well framed glimpse into whatever has piqued Simon’s nimble curiosity at a given time. Follow him to see what I mean: @sa4iiii. 

Shooting footage at his jobsite affects a reformatting of Simon’s wage labour into an extension of his artistic labour. It is a creative act, that along with dancing, day dreams, longings for home, and the fellowship and camaraderie of coworkers, is presented in Ceremony for Smoke and Mirrors as inevitably infiltrating and ornamenting the rote work of manual labour. For Simon, a Waray-Waray speaking Filipino working on yachts in North Vancouver, this piece is also a tender reflection on his connection to a long lineage of Filipino marine labourers; from Enrique of Malacca, to Ben Flores, to the local fishermen in Simon’s hometown of Tacloban City, to his coworkers on the docks of North Vancouver and the Filipinos employed on international freighters and cargo ships the world over, working in an industry where hierarchies are well stratified based on what author Leila Kahlili locates as “the global colour line running through wage and recruitment strategies.” Captains and officers regularly consist of white Europeans, while under their purview are crews most often made up of workers from the Global South. We all work for money, but some money is worth more than other money, some work pays more than other work, some bodies do work that other bodies do not. But see Simon’s videos: Who are the ones dancing budots on the decks of freighters as they traverse the world’s seas? While not an antidote to global economic disparities, it is an act that asserts—along with any creative gesture not in the service of producing surplus value for one’s employer while on the job—that the working body is still the worker’s body. 

When we conceived of this exhibition, Simon’s plan was to solely use footage shot at his North Vancouver jobsite. Due to an issue with permanent residency paperwork that has left him unable to return from a recent trip to SouthEast Asia, he finalized this piece from his sister’s home in the Philippines. Ever responsive to his site and circumstance, the final edit includes footage collected from his time on this trip, condensing and overlaying the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean that both separates and connects Tacloban City in the Philippines with the Salish Sea that laps against the docks of North Vancouver.

Artist Statement 

Moozhan Ahmadzadegan is an artist based on the unceded and traditional territory of the Syilx Okanagan People, also known as Kelowna, BC. His artistic interests center on themes of queer culture, Iranian diaspora, and cultural in-betweenness. This spectrum of ideas serve as a point of access to deepen his understanding of contemporary social issues. Moozhan’s practice encompasses painting, screenprinting, textiles, and installation practices. Through these mediums, he investigates how we respond and engage with the colonial social and cultural structures that shape identity on personal, national, and public scales.

In his exhibition, there hidden, far beneath and long ago, he examines traditional Iranian art such as Persian miniatures, patterns, rugs, architecture, and poetry, and reimagines them through a queer lens. This approach symbolically carves out space for queer narratives within historically heteronormative frameworks, addressing the erasure of queer identities in various contexts. These themes resonate with the increased condemnation of queer people felt globally, including within his immediate community, in so-called Canada, and by the present government of Iran—the contemporary source of his influences.

By queering traditional Persian visuals and narratives, Moozhan reinterprets, reimagines, and reconfigures these elements to create new meanings and queer-inspired narratives. Persian carpets are reimagined through the interplay of materials, contradicting a carpet’s original intentions. A carpet is wall mounted, scaled down through printmaking, and its tassels elongated with 15’ rope. With no set meaning, these objects offer the potential for new narratives. As designer and architect Jaffer Kolb describes it “[queerness is] an open mesh of possibilities, gaps, overlaps, dissonances, resonances, lapses, and excesses of meaning” (Pavka). With that in mind, Moozhan attempts to disrupt these traditional art forms and bring them into a contemporary context. there hidden, far beneath and long ago emphasizes creative play and experimentation, allowing Moozhan to move away from overtly literal interpretations and embrace fluidity. His work serves as an entry point for exploring critical dialogues surrounding queer identity, diaspora, and cultural hybridity. Through this approach, he invites viewers to engage with these themes in nuanced and open ways.

Citations:
Pavka, Evan. “What Do We Mean By Queer Space?” Azure Magazine, 29 June 2020, https://www.azuremagazine.com/article/what-do-we-mean-by-queer-space/

Acknowledgements:
I am grateful for the opportunity to work, play and create on the lands that have been tended to by the people of Sylix Okanagan Nation and to present this artwork as a guest on the lands of the xʔməΘḵʷəỵəm (Musqueam), Sḵwx̣wú7mesh (Squamish), and səlilwətaɬ (Tsleil-Waututh) Nations.

I acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts.

Artist Bio

Moozhan Ahmadzadegan is an emerging artist based on the unceded and traditional territory of the Syilx Okanagan people, commonly known as the Okanagan. He received a BFA from the University of British Columbia Okanagan with a Major in Visual Arts and a Minor in Art History and Visual Culture in 2019. His work explores Iranian diasporic and queer themes, most often engaging the mediums of painting, screenprinting, textiles, and more recently installation practices.

Tactile Object (welcome station)

Note: a laminated PDF in gallery of this transcript is also available.

Tactile Objects:

2D Site Map

3D Dollhouse Gallery Map

Tactile Arabesque Patterns: 

The following patterns appear in quilt-like squares on the large mounted and standing sculptures. The artist has also supplied one of the prints installed on the wall for tactile exploration.

• Pinwheel: A rectangular grid divided into squares, each square divided diagonally into two right triangles, one filled and one empty. They are arranged such that no two triangles of the same “colour” are adjacent. 

• Decorative Floral: A rectangular illustration of a cluster of flowers, most of which are roughly star-shaped, connected to stems and leaves that radiate outward in an organic arrangement. 

• Geometric: A rectangular illustration consisting of a dense pattern of intersecting heavy lines that zig-zag form a variety of star-shapes and other polygons in an irregular arrangement. 

• Decorative Interlocking Vines: A rectangular illustration consisting of rows of quatrefoil/clover-shaped forms placed adjacent to one another to create a chain link-like pattern. 

Carpet Series Screenprint Pattern: This pattern appears on top of the panels mounted on the east wall. 

A rectangular black and white illustration reminiscent of a decorative rug. Patterns are arranged in two concentric rectangles with a quatrefoil/clover-shaped form in the center. Within these forms, multiple repeating and symmetrical patterns depict flowers, leaves, and similar decorative elements. 
The ropes beyond the tactile tape near the middle and east side of the gallery (left of where you entered)  can be gently touched. You will need to kneel or bend down to touch them.

Creative Access Audio Tour

Transcript note: The Indigenous nations are written in English to reflect that this tour prioritizes non-visual or Blind visitors who may be accessing the tour with a screen reader. We both respect ongoing language revitalization efforts and that updating assistive technology to allow for cultural respect and safety is slow and imperfect. Thank you for your patience.

Introduction

Welcome to grunt gallery’s creative access audio tour of there hidden, far beneath and long ago, the exhibition project by artist Moozhan Ahmadzadegan. My name is Kay Slater. I am a white, hard-of-hearing, queer settler on these stolen and unceded Coast Salish lands, the ancestral territories of the Hunquminum and Squamish Snichim speaking peoples. As the accessibility and exhibitions manager and preparator here at grunt, I assisted in installing this work. I have reviewed this script with both our artist and curator, but any pronunciation errors or cultural misrepresentations are on me. We welcome your feedback as we develop more creative access tools for our gallery and exhibitions.

This tour has four chapters. The fourth chapter is split into four parts, which allow you to jump back and forth through the exhibition descriptions when listening online or on the gallery’s audio players. The gallery transcript allows you to scrub the complete tour file using timestamps. At the start of each chapter, you will hear the sound of a page-turning:

[Page turning]

In Chapter One, I will detail the space and how to enter it and orient yourself in the gallery. In Chapter Two, I’ll describe our welcome station and the objects available for you to use and touch. Chapter Three covers our facilities, washrooms, and C-Care stations. If you’re ready to tour the show, you can skip to Chapter Four, where I will read the wall didactic and walk you through the show, but if you are skipping ahead, be aware that the welcome station has a tactile map to help you navigate this tour. Chapter four is broken up into parts as I move to different artworks in the show. When I move to a new artwork, you will hear this sound of chimes:

[Mystical chimes]

Let’s get started with Chapter One.

[Page turning]

Chapter 1: Physically Entering the Space

When approaching grunt gallery at 350 East Second Avenue from the accessible drop-off on Great Northern Way, follow the sidewalk to the building’s main entrance. Turn left at the entrance, and you’ll find us at the first exterior door, unit 116. A low-grade ramp leads to our front double doors, with automatic door buttons at waist and ankle level on a post to the right. Be cautious of the small lip at the threshold, which is a potential tripping hazard. Excluding Thursdays, masks are now optional and only recommended indoors at grunt; if you forgot yours, we have extras near the entrance and will not enforce their use outside of Thursdays for low-sensory and voice-off visiting hours.

Welcome to grunt gallery! We are situated on the occupied, stolen, and ancestral territory of the Hunquminum and Squamish Snichim speaking peoples, specifically the land of the Musqueam, Squamish, and Tsleil Waututh peoples and families. We are grateful to be here

The current show features painted works with ropes that dangle and lay on the floor on the left side, and a free-standing sculpture in the far left back corner. A tactile tape runs on the floor to mark any tripping hazards. If you require assistance and are not greeted by staff upon entry, please call for help. Staff are in the office and will assist you as soon as possible. We are always happy to walk the show with you.

The public gallery space is a white cube with 20-foot walls on three sides and a 12-foot south wall that opens 8 feet before reaching the ceiling, providing light to the loft office space beyond. The office is not visible from the gallery, except for a large convex mirror that allows staff to see visitors. A tone rings when people enter the space.

On low-sensory and voice-off Thursdays, a staff member will be available but will not greet you, allowing you to move at your own pace. If you are non-visual, call out for help anytime. If you are sighted, please silently approach a staff member. We have hard-of-hearing staff on site, so a visual wave may be required to get their attention.

[Page turning]

Chapter 2: grunt gallery’s welcome station

As you enter the gallery, immediately to the right on the west wall is a sanitization and welcome station. The station is white with black labels in English, high-contrast icons, and some braille. There are three open shelves, including the top surface, and the two shelves below can be pulled out towards you. Below that are two closed drawers with d-hook handles.

On top of the welcome station is our gallery spider plant, Comos, who is watered on Wednesdays. The top surface holds a leather-bound guestbook with a black pen, a bottle of hand sanitizer, and a box of masks with tongs. A digital tablet lets you browse the exhibition page on our grunt.ca website or access our Big Cartel eCommerce store.

On the first pull-out shelf, on the left, is the exhibition binder with large print information about the space, the show, the artist, a transcript of this tour, and the exhibition map. On the right are a series of tactile objects. Our tactile objects are creative access tools designed to create a point of entry for non-visual, Blind, or partially sighted guests who may wish to experience the work through touch or by bringing the objects close. However, tactile objects are also sensory objects that can be used by sighted folks who wish to feel a connection to the work and those who enjoy or are supported by having objects in their hands to touch. 

Here, there is a large multimedia print here to touch. It uses acrylic and gouache paint as well as UV screen-printed images. This tactile object is associated with works that are hung on the wall and in the sculptural installation. The artist shared this print to present the textures used in the sculptures and illustrations. Two additional smaller tactile drawings isolate some of the patterns used.

Four additional sheets have tactile translation of the installed work on the east wall, depicting the patterns screen printed on the wall-mounted works, and repeated across the 2 panels.

These tactile objects are provided as a sensory point of entry into the works and are not necessarily representative of the work or equivalent to experiencing the works through explorative touch. We do not present these objects assuming that you have never had access to them, but we also do not assume that you have had these experiences. Smell them, hold them, observe them. Use them however you’d like as you engage with the show. This show, in particular, can be touched with a gentle hand, but these objects allow for a close examination and manipulation of details.

On the second pull-out shelf, to the left, are laminated maps of the space. Also within these shelves is a 3D map of the gallery and a flat 2D tactile map of the entire first floor space. Use the tactile maps to follow along with the creative access tour while in gallery. Works are indicated by unique shapes glued to the map with pauses and descriptions with braille markers A through F. You are currently at location A.

To the right of the maps are two Yoto audio players with large, friendly buttons. These players contain this tour and audio of any text within the binder. On the wall to the left of the welcome station is a scannable QR code or tappable NFC tag that links to this audio tour. On Thursdays, the Yoto players are moved to their carrying cases for use with headphones.

Below these are the two closed drawers. The first contains carrying cases with straps for headphones and the Yoto audio devices, allowing hands-free use.

The lowest drawer contains earmuffs for large and small bodies, specifically for those with noise sensitivities.

That concludes the description and tour of the welcome station. In the next chapter, I will tell you about our washrooms and c-care stations. If you prefer to continue with the exhibition tour, skip to Chapter Four.

[Page turning]

Chapter 3: The Facility and Amenities

If you need to use the washroom, it’s at the far end of our space. Exit the gallery through the doorway and follow the west wall (to your right when you enter). Pass by the media lab, and when you reach the back wall, take a left and walk through the small kitchenette to our single-room, gender-neutral washroom.

If you’re using the 2D tactile map, the washrooms are located at E.

An automated door button to the right holds the washroom door open for 14 seconds. Inside, to the left of the door, is the lock button, which creates a visual indicator that the washroom is in use. To exit, you can open the door manually or hover your hand over a button above the sink, below the mirror.

Near the exit button is a vertical cubby stack of supplies. Please help yourself to items like hair ties, disposable floss, sanitary napkins, and condoms. This is part of our C-Care program, Community Care for Artist-Run Events.

Speaking of C-Care, we have a tea station in our media lab. 

If you’re using the 2D tactile map, the C-Care tea station is at location F.

A television is wall-mounted above the tea station. This is a Satellite Screen of our public and permanent Mount Pleasant Community Art Screen located at the corner of Kingway and Broadway. The screen is a community urban art screen in Mount Pleasant, and you can learn more at mpcas.ca The presentations are all silent video with captions for sighted engagement when either watching here or passing by in the noisy city landscape. If you would like any of these vignettes described, please call out to our staff.

Also here is a colouring station for people of all ages. Take a pause and a break here before returning to the gallery and continuing the tour. 

We now arrive at Chapter Four, where I will begin the exhibition tour next to the welcome station, as if I had just entered the gallery, stepped right to sanitize my hands, and grabbed the tactile map.

[Page turning]

Chapter 4: The Exhibition Tour

4A. About the Show

Moozhan shares: “Queer culture and Iranian diasporic themes have been the focus of my practice for the last few years. I do not have specific inquiries, nor do I seek specific answers, but rather I attempt to create a point of access for both myself and the viewer. Playing with these themes has allowed me to deepen my connection to queer culture, my Iranian heritage, and myself. Working with these ideas has also presented opportunities for me to explore interdisciplinary approaches, strengthening my material and conceptual explorations while also embracing experimentation. I am excited by the interplay of materials and the discoveries I have been making in my practice.”

If you’re using the tactile map, we are at location A near the front of the gallery near the entrance.

On the wall behind and above the welcome station is wall didactic text in black vinyl that reads:

there hidden, far beneath and long ago

Moozhan Ahmadzadegan

Curated by Whess Harman

February 20 – April 5, 2025

The show’s title is in lowercase letters.

Within the exhibition binder at the welcome station is the exhibition abstract or artist statement and artist bio, as well as the timestamped transcript of this tour. 

Within the space, its walls a neutral gallery white, are two works across 3 walls. The works are bright and colourful, and the shades are up, allowing for natural light to come in from the busy street outside. If you need assistance moving through the space or viewing any work, please feel free to call out for help while on-site or contact a staff member for assistance before arriving in the gallery.

Let us move through the show.

[ Mystical Chimes ]

4B. One thing is certain and the rest is lies – west

If you’re using the tactile map, we are moving from the welcome station (A) to location B, facing the west wall.

Following the west wall (left) from the welcome station about 2 metres or 6 feet away is a large, painted pine plywood panel has been installed about 2 feet or 60 cm up from the ground. In the middle and offset a little right is an arched window opening backlit  with bright, sugar-drink pink LED lights. The lit cutout creates a soft, glowing halo on the wall behind it. It is playful and striking, 4 feet wide by 7 feet tall or 120 by 220 centimetres work, installed in the centre of an otherwise empty expanse of wall.

This work is part of the installation titled: One thing is certain and the rest is lies.

Moozhan shares: “This architectural shape derives from Persian miniature illustrations, where the scenes are painted with peculiar flatness. I use peculiar to describe them as sometimes they do not often make sense in terms of space, scale and perspective. High horizon lines, lack of vanishing point, and irregular scale contribute to this. With this artwork, I attempted to replicate the flatness of the source material.”

Our curator, Whess Harman, asked Moozhan, “Your work is non-figurative. Is there a particular way you think about that, in terms of referencing Persian miniature?”

Moozhan responded: “Yeah, I don’t. I want to invite viewers into a new world, and whatever that world is is up to them. I don’t want it to be too specific, because I want people to use their imagination and their own interpretation.”

Whess added: “Yeah, I think scaling up the work and making it more of a structural piece also kind of lends to that idea of entryways and entering new spaces.”

By queering these traditional Iranian aesthetics, Moozhan is reimagining Persian visual heritage through a contemporary lens. The radiant pink light, often associated with synthetic, modern materials, contrasts with the historical references embedded in the patterns. The cutout, illuminated yet empty, invites us to consider themes of absence, longing, and the spaces queer identities navigate within cultural histories.

The textures painted can also be experienced using the tactile objects at the welcome station. A light hand can touch this work, but it is installed on the wall by a cleat and not secured for extended tactile exploration.

This work, One thing is certain and the rest is lies, includes a few different pieces besides this large panel, including images that have been tacked onto the wall and a freestanding panel near the back wall.

Let’s continue exploring this work with the installation near the back wall of the gallery.

[ Mystical Chimes ]

4C. One thing is certain and the rest is lies – south

If you’re using the tactile map, we are moving from west wall (B) to location (C), near the back of the gallery to the left of the door to the media lab.

Following the west wall left toward the back (or south-west) corner of the gallery is a door that leads through and into our media lab. You’re welcome to continue through here, grab a tea or take a break. I’ll continue in the gallery and pivot left so I am facing the back, south wall. If you’re touching the west wall, there is a drop back to show you’re in the doorway and about to leave the gallery. Turn left and follow that wall until you feel paper and then step back, facing it. Once positioned about 2 metres or 6 feet back from that wall, and then stepping a few inches to my left, I am near the 2nd panel of the work in the installation titled One thing is certain and the rest is lies.

It is a freestanding piece that shares the similar tall, arched silhouette and bright colour palette of its wall-mounted counterpart. It is supported by two perpendicular triangular feet (like a cross or X) whose edges are coloured with a shocking neon pink along the edges, their faces left unpainted, showing the natural wood. The panel stands upright on the floor, allowing us to walk around it, the piece painted on both sides. Tactile floor tape marks the approach and perimeter of the piece, but it is also secure enough to be cane detectable, all sides firmly touching the ground.

This panel is not illuminated, but the colours and patterns are bright and command attention. It uses the same colours and patterns but in larger square, quilt-like patches. 

Behind the sculpture on the south wall, a mural of printed, poster-sized images unfolds. Each 18 x 24” piece displays a distinct pattern, all sharing the same bright colours found in the two large panels nearby. Together, they transform the 12-foot wall into something like a warm, inviting quilt. Some of these patterns appear in the tactile objects at the welcome station, inviting touch and deeper engagement.

Whess, again asked Moozhan, “I was just wondering if there’s any significant meaning for each individual pattern or if it’s more like an exploration of using different patterns?”

Moozhan responds: “It’s both. So in a lot of these miniatures or Iranian art, very traditional art patterns are very big. In architecture, painting, and textiles, you see these patterns quite often. In the miniatures, specifically, there’s always all these different mixes of patterns – on different buildings, and clothing that the figures might be wearing. I love the mix of all the patterns, and I wanted to really explore that. And a lot of these patterns often have different meanings, but sometimes they are inspired by Islam. For example, where these repeating geometric patterns are ever-expanding and they represent that beauty and that closeness to God. For reference, I am not Muslim, nor is my family, but we come from an Islamic country, so there is a lot of cross-cultural influence there. Many of the floral patterns, again, represent gardens, and gardens were in another idea of closeness to God or closeness to beauty or otherworldly.”

For me—Kay, your narrator—someone who is white, queer, and has spent most of my life on the west coast, where nature is wrapped in the damp, deep greens of cedars and pines—these patterns evoke gardens unlike any I’ve known. Some designs feature interlocking vines; others display geometric shapes—triangles repeating across the surface. The varying colours suggest hidden blooms tucked among dense leaves, vibrant and unexpected.

There’s a brightness here that feels both festive and comforting. The colours transport me: I imagine a fragrant, spice-filled outdoor gathering, somewhere far from here yet somehow close—surrounded by loving friends with a taste for neon, warmth, and joy.

Whess asked Moozhan, “I think what’s really striking about a lot of your work is the deliberate use of quite fluorescent colours. It feels very alive and lively. Is that a part of it? How did you select colours?

Moozhan answered: “Typically, these patterns would be very colourful, but not quite as vibrant in terms of some of the very neon or artificial colours that are being used here, but this was an experiment for myself to use more colour. To be more playful, not just with the patterns and colours, but with size, scale and materials. But I just really wanted to be really bold and strong and maximalist and sort of be a bit too much for the viewer, in a way. You might stare at it for too long, and it might hurt your eyes, but I just really wanted to play with that boldness and that maximalist approach.”

Let’s turn left and face the east wall, left of where you entered at the front door of the gallery.

[ Mystical Chimes ]

4D. Persian Carpet Series

If you’re using the tactile map, we are turning from the south wall installation (C) to location (D), facing the east wall. 

Pivoting left to face the east wall, I feel along the floor for the tactile tape that marks the edge of the other work installed in the gallery. The work titled Persian Carpet Series, is a three-panel series, with each piece mounted at varying heights. From each piece, six elongated carpet tassels are suspended. These thick, heavily braided cords extend from the bottom edge of each panel, draping toward the floor and sprawling outward in undulating, looping paths, each ending in a luscious and dense tassel. The cords overlap and rest in bunching serpentine lines. Tactile floor tape outlines the perimeter of the installation to enhance cane detection and mitigate tripping hazards, but the artist welcomes us to make gentle contact with the cords, encouraging a tactile exploration of their dense texture.

Each of the panels is slightly taller than wide, 20 x 24 inches. The triptych, 3 works in series, are all installed much higher than wall works are usually installed, but sighted visitors tend to stand closer to works installed at the typical 56” off the ground. With the ropes coiling on the ground, it requires people to stand back and it is more comfortable to take in the work that is installed above “eye level”, defined by conventional non-disabled, median European measurements. 

I’ll start with a colour description, going from left to right or nearest the window on the north wall, and then over to the right near the freestanding installation. 

Pink (left) Panel: Positioned closest to the gallery’s north side near the wall of the window, this panel is hung slightly lower than the others, about 62 inches or 90 centimetres above the ground. Under the Persian-inspired floral and geometric motifs is a gradient of colours that transitions from soft, light peachy tones at the top to rich royal magenta at the bottom. From its base, six braided cords—alternating between a deep and bright pink—cascade downward, gathering loosely on the floor. This panel stands apart from the others, with more space separating its neighbouring green print.

Green (middle) Panel: Installed highest among the three, this piece is adorned with blue-green Persian patterns on top of an intense lemon gradient that fades into a soft lime. Its cords alternate deep dark night blue and sunshine yellow strands, snaking across the floor in intertwining lines that echo the panel’s intricate visual patterns.

Purple/Pink (right) Panel: Mounted between the other two in height and located furthest to the right, approximately 48 inches or 120 centimetres away from the nearby freestanding panel installation, this work features a gradient of soft floral violet tones blending into soft bubblegum pinks. The cords extending from this work alternate between a deep summer flower purple and soft floral candy pinks, their coils on the floor forming subtle overlaps with the adjacent rope arrangements.

All three works have decorative surfaces on top of their colour gradients that mirror traditional Persian carpet motifs.

Moozhan says the following about these works: “I created a Persian carpet printed on paper again with very bold colours. Each has a gradient and each has a different colour. These screen prints are on paper, but they are mounted to a wooden cradle board, and each has six tassels coming down from the bottom, collecting on the floor and overlapping. The idea here was to create a Persian carpet that was not functional, that betrayed its original idea or the intention of the object. So mounting them on the walls, making the carpet itself very small and not with textiles, and then elongating the tassels to be 15 feet long… thereby, I have made this object no longer a functional carpet!

With no set meaning, these objects offer the potential for new narratives.”

[ Mystical Chimes ]

With that, we conclude the described tour of there hidden, far beneath and long ago. Later, during the exhibition’s run, we will have a curator’s essay and curatorial fellow commentary, as well as a response from author Asia Jong, available in the exhibition binder and digital assets.

Thank you so much for joining us on this creative access audio tour! We’d love to hear your thoughts on this experience and how we can improve it. If you carried any tactile object(s) during the tour, please return it to the welcome station! We acknowledge that we cannot be everything to everyone and respect that our creative access explorations may not serve your needs. You can reach us at access@grunt.ca or chat with any of the staff on-site with any feedback you have the capacity to provide.

Thank you again.

Curatorial Essay

by Whess Harman

We knew we wanted to put Moozhan’s show in the gallery for the spring. In the rain-drenched slide over from winter to spring and the city’s skies are low canopies of clouds sweeping across the glass and concrete, the idea of walking into the gallery to be greeted by vibrant colours and dizzying, intertwining patterns felt not warm and inviting so much as a welcome neon shock to break the mud and grey. It was the right choice; I’m not sure I’ve ever spoken to so many new visitors off the street who came in because they were so intrigued by the artwork that they couldn’t resist taking a closer look.

When Moozhan explains to me the different elements within the exhibition, it’s not lost on me that there is a practice of constructing a distinctly queer space out of this work despite the lack of overt references to queerness. There are no flags and no slogans, no representations of queer bodies; and yet, when I am standing within the space I feel a sense of being invited and held within the safety of the artwork because of the way Moozhan’s work blooms throughout the exhibition space. Though the patterns are fixed and largely non-figural, they feel lively in how they merge together recognizable traditions in Iranian art but are enacted with a hand-painted looseness. Pushing the colour scale towards neon bends the work towards an immediacy that agitates one into a state of excitement, a distinct difference from the coordinated calm of Persian gardens. These gentle subversions feel distinct to Moozhan’s sensibilities about his own identity and cultural heritage, a way to claim space that doesn’t require the force of a shout. I don’t mean to decry our battle cries; I enjoy the catharsis of shouting in the streets, but I also appreciate and believe in a diversity of approach. The queerness of this work moves slowly but insistently, there for those who recognize how it, we, are threaded through the places and communities we move through.

This work comes at a complicated time; the right-wing is off the deep end and the queer community itself is not unified in their support and recognition of trans and intersex identities especially. There is much to be said about this that goes beyond the purview of a curatorial introduction to the work, but to create a garden, to me, speaks towards our better impulses toward one another. These works feel like they were made not with the intention to instruct an outside audience but instead to exist as a reprieve for those who need it. The word “sanctuary” comes to mind, both in its definition as a refuge from persecution but also in its usage as a nature reserve. The creature in me craves these spaces where queerness can live accosted, unabated and not just tolerated but celebrated.

Most of the conversations I have with artists are interjected with the escalating dangers of authoritarian governments, that constant, consuming feeling of being caught between not doing enough while rapidly eating all the information we can to brace for what’s coming. What is the point of us artists and curators and what we do? Do we need the exhibition, the publication, the project? What do we offer in these moments?

We offer a diversity of strategies. We invite one another into our sanctuaries and gardens. We do the exhibition, the publication, the project, and we learn about one another while we do it–it’s easier to brace for the wave when you recognize and love the ones who are standing beside you.

Exhibition Essay

by writer, Asia Jong

I sit in the living room and see the construction crew in hi-vis vests gradually build the apartment across the street. Over the period of two years, what began as a hole in the ground has become a ten-story structure rising higher than any of the buildings surrounding it, including the top floor of my house. Like a desktop background, it gradually shifts, emerging one chunk at a time in the frame of my window. I didn’t know the building was going to exist when I moved to this neighborhood. But I watch as piece by piece, my supposed exterior turns into something much different from what it once was.

A block of grey and caramel aluminum siding fills the entire sightline from the second-floor window like a giant Quadratini wafer. The pattern of its crisscrossing facade and perfectly dispersed windows becomes a flattened plane of repeating lattice that seems to arrive within the living room itself. Insidiously, it slips through the glass, unfolding across the interior like new wallpaper. If all I knew was this view—one limited to the window’s frame—the structure could easily keep on going, repeating its pattern in endless tessellation. And for a moment, my negation of a perceptual understanding indulges its expansion. Linear tendrils weave in squared multiplication as it extends first over the curb, crossing the road past the neighbour’s lawn and then ascending above the skyline. It fills somewhere between here on this block and an undefinable expanse—ceaseless and never-ending. 

For about the same duration as the construction of the building, an ornamental paper star lamp has been hanging from my window. The timing of its arrival into my home coincided with the beginning of the build. Despite its existence as seasonal winter decor, it has inexplicably stayed up throughout the years and adamantly resisted the monthly comments that “we should probably take that down.” I tend to forget about its existence until I return home in the evening—my pseudo-North Star. I can see the glow shining from the sidewalk and, on the other side, the towering building. To my relief, in the time I’ve left my house, it hasn’t yet subsumed the whole block. But just in case, I’ll keep that star up.

—

In the exhibition, there hidden, far beneath and long ago, architecture and objects struggle with their forms, yearning to give birth to something new. The works by Moozhan Ahmadzadegan draw from patterning and architectural elements from Persian miniature paintings and carpets, but here, the forms grapple with an existence not confined by tradition or shape. Vibrant hues of electric blues and lime greens contrast against gradients of pink, filling the room with motifs of flora, windmill blocks, triangular patchwork, and 12-pointed stars. The boldness radiates an ornamental elation that is playful in its vibrancy but also unyielding in its multiplicity—an undertone of defiance seeps through the paint. There is something insistent in the way the forms press forward, in the way they refuse containment as they replicate themselves onto the walls around them. 

In the work Untitled (one thing is certain and the rest is lies) (2023), what was once a two-dimensional representation of three-dimensional architecture is now wrenched back into sculptural form—ripped from the page (or canvas) and stretched beyond its origins. This regurgitation seems to have carried a few indicators of its source. It maintains the traces of its architectural structure but shifts into a kaleidoscopic rhythm as repeated patterns emerge, overflowing without care for its container. There is a shameless process of reanimation. These are not just forms but gestures towards a place of mutated transformation, of queering what was once rigid, of unsettling the expectations placed upon history and its ornamentation. 

At the same time, the works seem to express an agency of their own. As if they had gotten fed up with getting stepped on all the time, the carpets blatantly reject the notion of staying on the ground. In a state of mid-evolution, the carpets in Ahmadzadegan’s Carpet Series (2024) defy their purpose and triplicate as if they have undergone a type of mitosis, a division of their cellular structures. They begin their new life by climbing up the walls, leaving a trail of tassels behind them. Instead of falling into line with their predetermined existence, they find reinvention as wall hangings and obliterate their usefulness as floor mats altogether by actively working against their intended purpose. Here, they create elongated and enlarged tassels that tangle onto the floor like some sort of tripping hazard. The carpets are not just decorative objects to adorn the gallery or a home; they are interruptions, provocations that demand presence and seek disruption. 

Caught somewhere between past and present, between surface and structure, between confinement and expansion, Ahmadzadegan’s work exists in a state of becoming. In this in-betweenness, custom is distorted and unravelled, desperate to create enough room to assert one’s own existence within a lineage of tradition. We have no control over the narratives we inherit or the structures that rise around us in a city driven by relentless development, but we can carve out space in the gaps—reshaping, resisting, and redefining the boundaries imposed upon us, however big or small that act might be.