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Duane Bobbsemple

KEY WORDS

people, Toronto, event, community, art, city, artists, spaces, create, ciinema, feel, Banded Purple, work, creative, happening, experience, talking, conversation, projects

A creative director, curator, and community organizer, Duane facilitates interconnectivity across projects to create collective experiences that push creativity to the forefront. His resume is extensive and varied- Duane has collaborated with global brands, artists, and creators throughout the community to produce projects such as public art installations, experiential events, online galleries and online/print publications.

As the founder and producer of the creative platform and consultancy, Banded Purple, Duane’s built an artistic expertise and approach to spearheading creative ventures, making his insight into the industry invaluable.

This conversation took place in September 2023.

I think we should start with your earliest memory being around art. I know you grew up playing sports, and you've shared that dance and music were a big part of your family life.

My earliest interaction with art was probably at four years old when my parents put me in piano lessons. I come from an immigrant family, and my parents are from the West Indies. They wanted their children to assimilate into Canadian culture, and they did everything to get us to do that. I was part of the Royal Conservatory of Music, and we would do concerts every summer.

I liked it at first, but as you progress through the system, it gets more challenging and time-consuming. Obviously, when you're four years old, it's a beautiful thing. You're learning how to play Old MacDonald and stuff like that, but there started to be a disconnect. At nine or ten, I was playing pieces by Mozart and Beethoven, but at home, my dad was playing more contemporary songs by Stevie Wonder and other artists I was drawn to.

I asked my piano teacher, why couldn't I play this stuff? Why do I have to play songs that were made 200 years ago? But they said you need to understand the classics before moving on to more contemporary pieces; this is the foundation of what you're aspiring to play. But I didn't relate to those classical pieces. I really wanted to dabble in the more contemporary pieces. So, at the age of 12 or 13, I quit. I just quit completely. At the time, I was in grade four, which is pretty high. Grade six is where you're at the point of mastery. I quit just before I would have gone on to have mastered the art of playing the piano.

And then there's my brother, who was a visual artist. I was always amazed at how he could convey his thoughts and communicate his dreams on a piece of paper. I was blown away. He was a brilliant, brilliant drawer and painter. Seeing that we came from an immigrant household, it's kind of crazy because my parents put him in classes, but they didn't think that would get him anywhere. My dad kind of snuffed that dream out of him. I swear, my brother was super advanced for his age. I always had a fascination and admiration for the things that he was able to create because I couldn't do them myself.

After I quit piano, I got into sports and whatnot. I would dance as well, but dancing was always something that we did in our household. I was a huge admirer of Michael Jackson and, as I got a little older, Usher and people like that. We always tried to mimic what we saw on television. The arts have always been in the background, but I never called myself an artist because it's not something I committed myself to, but I've always had an admiration for it.

There was a period where I really didn't interact with the arts at all. I loved hip-hop music, but it was considered "street” at the time. It was something that came from the streets. In the eyes of society anyway, it was considered a low-brow art. I know it's not, you know, it's poetry. What hip-hop can convey, it's one of the highest sciences. It definitely belongs in that realm.

I have to say the thing that sparked my love for the arts again was Kanye West. Seeing My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy bridge the worlds of ballet, classical instruments, and fine art with hip-hop was what said to me: hey, you can be this individual but also appreciate these things. I'd never seen anybody bridge all the things that he did. At the time, I was throwing hip-hop parties and things of that nature. It never dawned on me that you could do the two things at once. To me, it was an either-or thing. I was also travelling quite a bit. I was going to London and Paris and being exposed to different things. I went to museums like the Tate Modern and the Louvre and was exposed to art all over again. So that triggered my love for the arts again, and I started curating more artistic events and things of that nature.

That piece around admiring your brother, it makes so much sense how you've ended up in these curation roles. That admiration has been there in you since you were so young, and now you've created this world where you get to celebrate that all the time. The best curators are the ones where it's not about showcasing yourself it’s about true admiration and celebration of what you see happening in front of you.

I feel like I've heard you say many times, “I can't believe that people aren't aware of this person who makes this thing; look how amazing this is!” You know? Which is really special. You have such a knack for finding those people and seeing what other people might overlook. Random question: do you consider DJing a craft of yours? Was that ever an art for you?

Yeah, it is an art, but it falls under the curation umbrella for me. I'm sharing other people's works, and the audience is experiencing that person's art for two to three minutes within each set or with each blend you're doing. I do think it is a form of expression because, as a curator, I am conveying a particular narrative to people. Whether you're DJing at a restaurant and you just want people to vibe out, so you play some groovy background music that you think people enjoy that sets the tone for that restaurant, or whether you want people to go crazy and create a very fun environment, you'll play music that speaks to that, right?

I like that. I'm reframing DJing as curating in a way I hadn't thought about. When you're DJing, you're working off other people's emotions or the external vibe. A curator's role is rooted in knowing an audience and curating to meet them somewhere they're at. It's more about knowing the other; you're using your tastes to curate, but you're not curating for yourself. You really have to know the artist you're working with and the community.

“The thing that drives Banded Purple is creating better conditions for people and creating better conditions for Toronto.”

– Duane Bobbsemple

Yeah, it's two-fold. As a curator, you're responsible for assembling and arranging the art and presenting it in a way that doesn't necessarily have to make sense, but hopefully, people can interpret it in a way that's impactful to them. You have to know the art, but you also have to know the audience that you're speaking to. Well, hopefully, you know the audience that you're speaking to. Curators and people who can archive, assemble, catalogue and display it in a manner that is palatable to people are essential. It's sometimes tough for artists to do that themselves.

Yeah, they're a bit too close to the work sometimes. I've been watching this documentary about Merce Cunningham, a dancer. His whole thing is that there's no interpretation in choreography. What he does is put together performances and presentations. He really sees his work as a visual art piece. There's no meaning in the movement. He arranges movement to look a certain way and experiments with movement, but the interpretation is on the audience and whatever meaning they make from it. Their role is to interpret the piece; it's really cool. A lot of what you're saying makes me think of that. It's like you're putting together a presentation, and everyone can take a different meaning from it.

Yeah, totally. Also, I just remembered my sister used to do ballet. I used to go to her recitals and showcases every now and then. That was another entry point into the world of art. My parents really went to extra lengths to ensure that their three young, Black children assimilated into the culture here. We were first-generation immigrants. It was a foreign land to my parents. I wasn't forced per se, but we were introduced to the arts at a very, very early age. And so, you just mentioning ballet just triggered that thought.

You weren't the older brother who was begrudgingly going to ballet recitals?

No, honestly, I have fond memories of being there. And when you're a kid, you're just a sponge, right? I remember being in awe of that environment. But this is why representation is very important. Growing up in Ottawa, going to the museums there, I never saw myself in any art. Any art that I would see, if any exhibits included people of colour, was Indigenous or European at that time. You never saw yourself in those worlds. You saw yourself in places like sports and entertainment. Obviously, Michael Jackson, you know, those worlds. So naturally, as you're trying to figure out who you are as a person and your identity, especially as a young Black male, you will be drawn to the things where people look like you and where you feel like there's a bit of familiarity.

This explains why I gravitated toward hip-hop and basketball at a young age. Again, my parents introduced us to the art world, but I didn't see myself in that world at all. Even at the ballet recitals, my sister was the only Black girl up there, you know? Yeah, so at some point, when you're getting a little older, you're like, okay, where do I belong? So there's this huge gap of me being immersed in sports.

I was throwing parties and whatnot, hip-hop parties, merging these worlds, and I still love those worlds, but I stopped engaging with the arts for a long time because I didn't see myself there. I know people have a lot of crazy things to say about Kanye, but he's such a pivotal figure in many young Black men’s lives. We had never seen someone bridge hip hop, the fine arts and the worlds of design. He was the inspiration behind Banded Purple; I think I've told that to you before.

Yeah, Kanye has been so influential for many people I've talked to and a lot of musicians I know. It's challenging, the fame and complexity within all of that. I feel like moving forward, a challenge for society will be balancing everything you mentioned within the lifespan of a person. You know, the contradictions and complexities that exist. The Kanye that influenced you then is very different from today, but both are the same person. Noting that and being able to appreciate it for what it was is complicated but obviously important.

When you were talking about representation, it reminded me again how important it is for people to find creativity that they have a relationship with. You wonder if you would have quit piano if you got to play and were celebrated for learning songs that were more meaningful to you. More of letting the child lead, as opposed to the teacher being like, this is the right way to do this.

Yeah, it's funny that you mention that. It would be cool if they were able to reimagine that process. The way they teach the Royal Conservatory to you, it's like, this is like the highest level of mastery or attainment, you know, and everything else falls beneath that. It's a very rigid form of teaching. And you know, I have friends who grew up in the church playing the piano, and the first things they learned were contemporary songs, and they're like wizards at playing the music. So, I know there are other ways of learning and being great. I do think some of that rigidity is associated with white supremacy.

Yeah, I don't think it's a coincidence that who we consider to be the greats happen to only be old white men or that it's a very particular genre. It's all tied into exactly that: colonialism, white supremacy, the idea there's one way to do something. I'm sure some people connect to those songs, but not everyone, and that's the whole point.

Yeah, you're right. I used to sit there and be like, I want to play Stevie Wonder, and they were like, nah, you need to master these guys before you can go and move on to do those things. And I'm like, okay, but eventually, I lost interest in playing songs. Like, old dead like white men. Yeah, the music was dated. It would be cool if they reimagine how they train kids moving forward.

Let’s jump to when we met. I had just moved to Toronto and didn't know anyone; you came through the cafe I worked at, and you had a Ciinema event coming up. That was the first Banded Purple event that I went to. I think it was Ness Lee's. How would you describe Banded Purple now?

I would say I’m a community organizer. We do events to create platforms that connect people with art and culture. Like I said, I grew up with a brother who could share his perceptions and emotions on a piece of paper in a way that I never could. I was hella jealous. I tried and couldn't express myself the way my brother could. One thing I didn't realize, though, was that he was four years older than me. So it could be just his level of mastery; he was more advanced because he put more hours in. I've always wanted to express myself that way, but I didn't know how. The ability to share certain perceptions and emotions, nothing does that quite like the arts do. So I was like, I could do it through community events.

I loved Ciinema. It was such a special way to get to know an artist, having them put together all of this multimedia work they otherwise wouldn't. I think about that approach in these conversations often, I want to know who you are as a person as opposed to only the work that you do. I felt like Ciinema did that. And a lot of your work, in general, does that.

I love that you say that because that was a main objective. Everybody knows Sean Brown, but do they know his story? The whole point of doing that event was to give people some insight into who that creative was and their influences and shift people's perspectives by having creatives construct a visual mixtape. For instance, when Luis Mora did his Ciinema, you may never have seen La Haine, arguably one of the greatest films ever made. So, to a young person or someone at Ciinema, you're exposed to all these new works and creative sharing through various videos and interviews.

Our whole thing was, again, how do we create a cool experience that also helps shift people's perspectives? The thing that drives Banded Purple is creating better conditions for people and creating better conditions for Toronto. I went to events in cities like Berlin, New York and London, where people put a lot of critical thought into them. They really thought about design as an experience for someone. It's like when you enter an Apple Store, for example. The minute you enter a store, there's a specific design and experience for you, right? They've put a lot of critical thought into the minute you enter the store, pick up a product, and cash out. There's a flow in the procedure as to how they do that. London and Berlin did things to make people's lives just a bit more enjoyable.

When I first moved to Toronto, those sorts of experiences didn't exist here. That was the driving force behind Banded Purple. How do we create spaces and conditions for communities to thrive? And that's what Ciinema was, having people come out, see a person they admire tell their story, their journey and get to know the things that influenced them. Throughout that process, that person sitting there may have connected specifically with something the artist showed. Maybe seeing something that, say, Sean Brown displayed in his film set something off.

Yeah, that's amazing. What was your first Banded Purple event?

The first Banded Purple event was a collaboration with Pique. We made a series of videos that featured different creatives in the city. We produced that video and had an event to celebrate the launch. I know Rajni Pereira was a part of that series, Kid Studio, Brendan Philip. Yeah. Actually, it took place at East Room. We were the very first event that ever happened there.

“That's the reason why I do community events; it's twofold. Yes, I want to express myself, but I realize the power of connection, people connecting with others. There's nothing more powerful than that, even beyond art itself.”

– Duane Bobbsemple

That's wild. How long ago was that?

That was like in 2017 or 2016?

Oh, I met you shortly after that.

Yeah. You met me shortly after that. Up until that Pique event, I was primarily hosting club events and then I made the jump to more art-based events. And the project that I did with Pique was what inspired Ciinema.

And when you say "club events," those were also community-based and led by a strong ethos, I feel like. Now that I've finally been to the Day and Night reunion, I felt that firsthand. You know, when we hear club night, you think King West or going anywhere to drink and party, which is part of some of your events, too, but what you hosted wasn't random. There's an underlying purpose and intention there.

Yeah, no, you're right. When I say club events, we were doing these one-off events that happened to take place at different nightclubs or spaces throughout the city. It's strange; I know you're saying it wasn't just a club event; it was more than that. I actually didn't think about it until you said it but there was a strong community ethos within each of those events. It's funny, the community that came out to Day and Night, a lot of those people are thought leaders within the community now, from Bambii to Sean Brown to Drake, to Kid Studio, to Dvsn. Nineteen85, the producer of Dvsn, used to take our photos. You know? There was a very specific community that was there. A lot of the future thought leaders were at Day and Night. But I don't think the intention at that time was to speak to the creative community. I think how we branded and promoted and conceptualized the events just spoke to those people, and I think that thread has been there in almost everything I've done.

Day and Night, for example, is a very simple concept, but no one was producing an event like that at the time. It was a rooftop, happening outdoors; we would have caterers come in, and it happened at very specific hours. I don't want to say it was innovative because rooftop parties were happening. However, still, in Toronto, there were very few parties like that. I always try to appeal to culture enthusiasts, people who are curious and want to try new things. For that scene and for that specific age group, it was something they weren't exposed to before. That is the thing that made it appealing.

Yeah, there's a different vibe to randomly going out as opposed to an event you've put together. There's something different about the crowd; people are curious and connect with each other. It's generative. People don't go home with less than what they came with, you know? And what they get are connections and relationships. And I don't mean in a sterile, "networking" way, it feels deeper than that.

It's interesting to hear that the intention to speak to creatives was almost subconscious. The way you put it together was like a magnet for people who were interested. I think it speaks to the genuine nature of what you’re doing. With that, what is your perspective, or what is your experience of Toronto and how it's changed in terms of community? Maybe looking at the last 10 years because you've been so involved in bringing people together across that time and in so many different spaces: clubs, art galleries, smaller venues, outside inside…

How it's changed… that's a good question. I heard somebody use the term “socially engaged art,” using design as a social practice. I didn't really see that kind of engagement happening in Toronto before, but now I'm seeing a lot more. I feel like there's an abundance of that, thankfully, due to things like Instagram, people travel a lot more and whatnot. The arts do have more of a central role, whereas 10 years ago, that wasn't the case, but Toronto still has a long way to go. From what I've seen, and I don't want to sound pessimistic or jaded, but a lot of what's happening with art in Toronto can feel a bit like a marketing ploy. You see a lot of that. So it's hard to distinguish between what's authentic, who's doing it out of love and who's doing it because they're, it's a form of, I don't want to call it a clout chasing, but it's a way to …

Yeah, I get what you’re trying to say. The other day I was reading a newsletter that a writer I love put out, Fariha Róisín. She talked about having to work a lot for free because, unfortunately, we live in a world where capitalism doesn't monetarily value art or creative work. But, doing something for free for a community-based project that doesn’t have a budget is very different than a corporate client, with a budget somewhere, asking you to do something for free. It comes back to what you’re saying, figuring out what’s authentic and who’s doing what out of love or if it’s something else. The corporate client knows it will make them look good, but often they don't value the work you're doing enough to pay your full rate. I'm just surprised when it's huge corporations and places that have the money to pay. We've talked about this before, too, how large organizations are the ones that are likely to whittle down your fee versus the independent artists that will literally give their last penny to pay you.

Yeah. As you know, right now, from a financial standpoint, things are a bit shaky here. There's a lot happening in the economy, inflation; we're in rocky times. It seems to me like the artistic community is being left in the lurch. I just got an email from Artscape, who might literally go into receivership, right? Now you have a whole community of artists and people who were arts adjacent, who are being left in the lurch. And do you remember those Van Gogh experiences that were happening? That Canadian company actually went bankrupt recently.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that we support these things when it's financially convenient, but when we're in situations of dire straits, I think you're going to see a lot less of that support. Whereas in other places, like London and Paris, they have a history of patronage. Which, you know, some people do consider that problematic, but it's embedded in their culture. They have a long history of supporting the arts. I'm just wondering, moving forward, now that we are in financially precarious times, what that's gonna look like for the artistic community in Toronto? Again, we have come to a point where we are seeing a lot of experiential events, a lot more art galleries and things of that nature, but a lot of organizations are in dire consequences as a result of our financial precariousness. So, if you want to ask me about where we are in Toronto right now, I'm kind of worried about how things will turn out or look in the short-term future.

Yeah. This ties into what we talked about before we started recording: people's championing and interest in Toronto as a city. That interest shows up in where we put our money and what we see as worth investing in. Artscape is a good example, but we have these arts organizations that primarily rely on government or city funding and not the community saying we want to invest in this; this is something we will buy. The second that funding changes or gets cut, we suddenly don't have the organization. It could be a better model. But ultimately, it asks us, everyday people, to evaluate where our interests lie in terms of our communities and where we put our money. And I acknowledge most of us don't have much money because of housing, food, and the necessities our money goes towards. So, who has money? Because we know people have it. And then, where does it go? It all ties back to your interest in Toronto, and do you want to see it thrive? And for some, thriving means condo development or something else, not art.

Again, I don't want to sound like I'm jaded. There's a lot of aspects of Toronto that I love. From a social standpoint, it's one of the most; it's such a multicultural city, and multiculturalism enriches your perspective on life. It just creates a better day-to-day experience, right? So, for me, I really champion the arts in Toronto because I recognize our city's value. You don't get all of the advancements we've made in society without art. Like caveman drawings, those led to arithmetic and writing. I don't know if I'm doing a good job of articulating my point here, but if you really want to have a truly progressive place and a place that is worth living, the arts are truly important. They are just as important and an integral part of building an interesting place, you know?

Yeah, totally. It touches on two things. It's like one; it serves a functional purpose in society. Trying to express ourselves in various ways doesn't only serve ourselves; it serves us as a community. When we can better communicate, whether it's through writing, math, drawings, photos, or what have you, we can better coexist. Like in London and Berlin, we can then design things to make our lives a bit more enjoyable. On the second side, it's not only functional but also serves this emotional component of building community and family.

Yeah. The field of art and the development of knowledge, those two things are super intertwined. Like I said before, a huge part of what we do is shift perspectives, and art plays a crucial role in building that narrative and whatnot.

I just wanted a platform to express certain emotions and have people understand certain concepts in my subconscious that can't be expressed through words. That's another aim. It's to express certain ideas, and it's representation. I work with a lot of artists of colour, but it's out of necessity. These people need to be amplified, and their voices need to be heard just as much as everybody else.

That's the reason why I do community events; it's twofold. Yes, I want to express myself, but I realize the power of connection, people connecting with others. There's nothing more powerful than that, even beyond art itself. It's being in a room with other people. People have literally gone on to start families by meeting at some of our events, you know? How you're throwing a party, the music you're playing, there's a narrative being told. Whether through friendship or whether these people fall in love, formalizing relationships with people, or creating relationships, it's a beautiful thing that profoundly affects our society. I don't know if I'm explaining that well.

You're explaining it perfectly and beautifully.  So, you've been building Banded Purple in Toronto, but you could bring this to another place. I'm just curious: why has it stayed in Toronto?

To be honest with you, if we want to get real, real, I've often questioned why I've chosen to do what I'm doing in Toronto. I do feel like it would be appreciated elsewhere. I've had numerous people who've left and moved to other places say, I don't know why you're choosing to do what you do here. I've had this conversation on multiple occasions where they say if you were doing this in London, or if you're doing this in LA, people just have a deeper appreciation for this stuff. You'd be so much further along. There's a battle a lot of creatives have here in terms of navigating their practice but also having to balance paying bills. And given the current financial state of Toronto, where everything's super, super expensive, you find yourself questioning that battle daily. I just wish Toronto made it easier to facilitate those environments. Toronto makes it extremely difficult with the cost of living and doing things here.

I've worked with multiple brands, and it's pulling teeth to get $10,000. When those projects or those initiatives don't meet certain deliverables, those brands wonder why, when I know, in LA, for example, those very same projects would get 10 times the amount of money we get over here. So, it's an internal struggle, as I do love Toronto. From a social aspect, it's one of the greatest cities in the world in terms of multiculturalism and acceptance. In that respect, being a Black man, it's one of the most progressive things on the earth. But if we want to be real, and I'm artistic adjacent, I'm not an artist myself, but if I was creating these initiatives and projects in other cities, I do think I'd be a lot further, like in Paris or like London. It would probably take me a while because those places are huge but…

Yeah, your energy could go elsewhere because you wouldn't be so consumed with convincing people to invest in what you're doing.

Exactly. And, why do projects here need to be government-funded? I know of places in France that charge nominal rates if it's an artistic project. You get access to beautiful spaces, and they'll charge you nominal rates to create these beautiful productions and whatnot. In Toronto, those sorts of things don't exist, and if they do, they're having a hard time staying afloat, you know? Case in point: Artscape. So, why I'm here, it has a lot to do with family. My parents are getting older. But as an art-adjacent person who works with creatives, I question why I'm in Toronto. I question why I choose to do what I'm doing in Toronto because it is a struggle. Yeah.

“This explains why I gravitated toward hip-hop and basketball at a young age. Again, my parents introduced us to the art world, but I didn't see myself in that world at all. Even at the ballet recitals, my sister was the only Black girl up there, you know? Yeah, so at some point, when you're getting a little older, you're like, okay, where do I belong?”

– Duane Bobbsemple

Yeah. It's hard. And both of us are from smaller cities in Ontario, you being from Ottawa and me Hamilton. I agree that multiculturalism and the city's social aspect are huge. I've met so many amazing people here who I've hit it off and really aligned with, and who I feel so lucky to be in conversation with, who are building things that are bigger than themselves. But at the end of every conversation, those questions around staying in Toronto are so pervasive for all of us. It's hard and sad; how do you build a future somewhere where the uncertainty is always there because of the cost of living? It's one of those things where I hope the community, on the whole, sees how lucky they are to have so many amazing people doing and making things all over. I stay here hoping that realization comes, and not too late.

Yeah, that's why I was struggling to articulate this from the beginning. I was trying to be positive about the whole situation. But I think if Toronto's art industry is going to thrive, the same way we put a lot of critical thought into creating art experiences for people, I think how we mobilize ourselves will dictate the future of art in the city. In Berlin, for example, they have an art union, and it's a powerful one. It's a non-profit art association, and they advocate on behalf of artists. For example, if Tim wants to do an art exhibit at such and such a space, they make sure that Tim has the space to do that.

I think the culture here dictates how we mobilize ourselves right now. We're a bit complacent in Toronto; we kind of feel like we're at the whim and beckon of external forces. But it's how we go about mobilizing ourselves. Having that government-funded model is great because it allows people to produce work, but when that funding dries up, it creates a certain system, and it doesn't allow people to be resourceful as a result. It leaves them dependent on that system. There are a lot of constraints that are put on artists, too, I don't think that it allows for a lot of innovation and resourcefulness.

The other thing is, who's in the room when we have these events? We could do a bit better job of making these spaces more inclusive. Sometimes, we have to invite those bros from Bay Street, you know? You don't have dialogue if we keep those people out of spaces. That's what's missing here. When you go to New York, those Wall Street bros are there, and they're funding projects. It can't just be the "cool kids from Ossington" at a space. We have to be a bit more mindful and strategic about how we want to build things moving forward. That's what I think because you need certain people in powerful positions to advocate with artists, and there isn't enough of that happening in Toronto. Moving forward, we have to find some sort of new business model, and I think a lot of us want to act like business and art separate, but they're not.

Yeah, if you're monetizing your art in any way or want it to be how you make a living, you can't detach it from business. I was just having a conversation with a friend who's spent time in Australia, and she said it was so normal to have your nine-to-five and still be creative after work. That struggle to make your creative practice the way you make a living, it's really hard. But we don't have a lot of jobs that pay us enough to have that sort of leisure time or disposable income to practice art outside of work; people are exhausted, or whatever it is. Yeah, it's a hard place to balance.

It's a very difficult place to balance. Going back to your question about the evolution of the art scene in Toronto, there's a lot more happening, but given the current, you know, dynamics that the city is in, I'm worried about how a lot of artists are going to be able to navigate things within the next one to five years, and what sort of effect all of that is going to have on the artistic community. We reached a good point, but I know somebody who just left and moved away to live with their parents, you know? And this is an artist who is one of the better-known artists, but even they're having a hard time making ends meet.

I really appreciated when you said we need the Bay Street bros at events, or whoever it is, and not only the "cool kids." That's one area of growth or opportunity that I see in this city. I know that you try to do this. The event with Kendra Yee, where everyone came, no plus ones, you come as you are, and we all did this painting activity Kendra facilitated. It forced you to have a conversation with the person across from you. There were marketing people there, engineers, artists, academics, all of these different disciplines in one space: painting. It was so nice.

I think we get an idea about what, you know, "Bay Street" is like, when a lot of people are just people like you or me, trying to make a living and doing it that way. A lot of those people also have a creative practice or something that they enjoy doing; maybe they have a family they're trying to support. We need contextualizing and, as you said, an opening of people's perspectives. And Bay Street is something we can't deny is a part of Toronto. Even though it's not the neighbourhood you're choosing to live or work in, all of these different places are part of the city as a whole. So it's like, how do we accept and celebrate all that the city is instead of maybe operating in silos and barely surviving?

Yeah, exactly. Going back to that event you mentioned, one of the goals was for people to come together and collaborate on this art piece. Like you said, it was people from Bay Street; somebody was a scientist. We just wanted to put people from various disciplines in the room and get them to work on something collaborative. The whole idea was to help us shift from our individual identities and come together to create more of a collaborative one. Having events that are more inclusive is a way the creative community can thrive. And when I say inclusive, not just the bro from Bay Street, you need the construction worker there too. That’s how you grow, by connecting audiences with each other.

Toronto is a what, a city of 5 million people? Canada, on a whole, is 40 million now? Montreal and Toronto are the two cities in Canada with the biggest art scenes. For some odd reason, there's no dialogue between them. I don't want to make it sound like Vancouver, Calgary, Winnipeg, and those other cities don't have a thriving art scene, but the only prominent English-speaking art city is Toronto. You and I both know that the scene here is very niche, with a small amount of people supporting a shit tonne of creatives. Yeah. So if you want to create growth here, we'll only move forward if we drop those individual identities, become more collaborative, and make those spaces more inclusive. That's what's going to allow people to sustain themselves a bit more. It's so niche right now, it's so niche.

Yeah. I know we've been using Bay Street to simplify everything, a person in finance, but it's not just about getting one group of people to financially support the art community, but to get others to see that it's their community, too. And for us, vice versa. You might not be an active part of every single group, but if Toronto is the place you live and call home, all the different communities here are interconnected. For example, we've talked about this, but when Caribana comes around, you have a section of Toronto who leaves for their cottages for the weekend. How do we get more of the city celebrating and seeing you can't just celebrate the parts of your community that are convenient or obvious to you? How do we see the city as a whole? And how do we see our role in it, even if the role might be different depending on what it is? Maybe it’s more supportive, maybe it’s getting out of the way, but it's all interconnected, and we do play a part or have a place, and you can connect with anyone you want, but you have to be open, and on the flip side, people need to have open arms as well.

1000%. Connecting across communities makes things more expansive and creates conditions where things can thrive. I totally agree with the point that you're making. That's a key ingredient that's missing here.

Yeah. Okay, moving on, we've talked about this a little bit, but what would you say you leave behind for archaeologists of the future?

I had a tough time wrapping my mind around this question. As you know, I don't create a tangible thing; I create experiences for people. I think the connections made in those experiences reverberate themselves. Our whole thing is to inspire people and to motivate them to create. As a result, I think we're kind of a catalyst for the things that some archaeologists will find. I may not create them myself, per se, but I'm kind of the fire that helps amplify the people who are creating things. A lot of what we do is create community, and those communities themselves are creating something that the archaeologists will discover 100 years from now. Those connections have reverberations within communities, and there's no way to measure, no way to quantify or physically observe how those things are happening, but we know they're happening, and we know they have a profound effect on people's lives.

I had a hard time thinking about that question, but I think more so than anything else, we cater to a specific tribe of people, and that tribe of people will leave behind certain things that we helped foster; we helped create spaces for those specific communities to thrive.

Yeah, I love that. It ties back to everything being interconnected. What is an area you're dying to work in, collaborate in, or a new method that you want to learn, if any?

You know, I've always had a strong desire to work in film but never pursued it. With the advent of, I know a lot of people are not gonna like this, but AI presents a lot of opportunities to finally get in there, you know? And when I say AI, it can help aid the process. Because filmmaking is daunting, right? For a lot of people, it's a daunting thing, especially if you haven't received training in that area. One of the good things about AI is that if you don't have specific training, it can help you get started within a discipline.

Nice. That makes sense since Banded Purple started through that film series and then Ciinema. That's obviously been a strong interest. You should have your own Ciinema one day.

I always wanted to, but we said it wasn’t about us. It's about the individual creatives. We never wanted to make ourselves the focal point of the event; it was about the community, so we kind of just kept it as such. I definitely would like to make one in the future, though. That is for sure. But if you want to know why I never created one, it was about creators and community, and we never wanted to put ourselves at the centre of that event. I feel like when people do that, things can come across as disingenuous.

Yeah, I get it. I have a similar relationship with this project. Obviously, you play an important role in the types of people that come together and what they're willing to share with you and give to an audience, but yeah, breaking out of that facilitation role changes the nature of your project. But an honorary, one-off Banded Purple Ciinema makes sense. That would be really cool.

Yeah, it would be really cool. The challenge with bringing back Ciinema is the space. Everything about Ciinema was perfect. Shopify had a genuine interest in supporting the creative community at the time. They supplied us with the space, as you know, which was perfect. Everything just felt super, super organic. The space itself was designed by MSDS, make shit, design shit, and Natasha, at the time, was in charge of experiential events at Shopify, who were all a part of the community. So everything fit perfectly. Trying to recreate that would be a challenge. If we do one again, like you said, it would look like a one-off experience. Maybe it'd be a film that's made by Banded Purple. Yeah, and regarding film, again, nothing can entertain, educate or explore political and social issues like films do. That's a big part of the reason I'd love to make a film.

Yes, agree. Lastly, do you have a song, movie, or phrase that's been on repeat in your mind right now?

What about you, Katie? I don't know if anyone has ever asked you. I'll share mine after after, but I'd be interested in hearing yours.

*laughs* Um, you know what, okay. Yeah, I have been listening nonstop to something this past week. I watch these dance videos called three choreographers, one song on YouTube. This dance studio/ media company in LA called Steezy puts them out. There was one that played over the long weekend. It was, let me see, the song is called Drink Water, it was this Dancehall track. But the dances that each person choreographed were so fun. I became obsessed with one of the dancers, Yoe Apolinario. She is an amazing dancer, and yeah, it's just such a fun song.

Okay, well, I'll have to check that out. I'll definitely have to check that out. I've never I've never heard of it before.

Yeah, I'll send you the dance video.

I don't necessarily have a song, but I watched this video a couple of weeks ago, and this person said to focus on the journey, not the destination. You know? And I don't think that's something we're really aware of or conscientious of. The joy is not found in finishing the activity, but it's in doing it, you know? It's the people you meet along the way, the connections you make, and all those things. We need to be super mindful of that. I've just, I've read too many stories - like Will Smith, for example, there's a lot going on there. I remember reading an interview of his in GQ magazine or something. He'd won an Oscar and had a blockbuster-selling movie, and he was beyond depressed. I was thinking to myself, what? Will Smith? You know? And yeah, a lot is going on there. But he said he was so depressed, and he couldn't figure out why. The thing he said in that interview that stuck with me was that what brought him joy was re-framing his work to being in service to people and helping people.

I've had this where I've done an event, and I’m thinking about a lot of deliverables that I need to hit and the monetary side. When the event’s done, you feel empty. I think if I was a bit more mindful of the process throughout the whole experience, it would be more gratifying. You get lost in trying to accomplish this goal, and you're not cognizant of all the other little important things happening along the way. As a result, when that thing is done, you feel empty and a bit vapid. So, moving forward with anything that I do, it's to really enjoy the activities along the way that bring me to my end destination, you know? How do I make experiences with people? How do I be more of service, mindful, and present during that timeframe?

Yeah, you'll see in the other conversations I've had that this sentiment comes up so often: this reorientation toward appreciating the process as opposed to an end goal. And the end goal is actually ever-changing; maybe this month it's this event, next year it's something else, maybe there's a bigger goal. But throughout, yeah, how do we celebrate the little things? And those little things can be big things in our minds. What's it all worth if you're not growing and enjoying the journey?

I really, really love, and Stephen brought this up in his conversation, too, but the sentiment around being a part of a team that is in service to the thing you're making. Sometimes, it can feel like the hardest thing to remember, and our egos get in the way all the time, but ultimately, we are all in service to each other and to what we're making.

It makes everybody's lives richer as a result. And you gotta meet your deadlines, don't get me wrong. You have to meet deadlines; you have to produce. But there's a more holistic way of doing that and a better, more fulfilling environment we can create for ourselves. For example, before we got on the call, you were like, let's just have a conversation and enjoy each other's presence while we're doing this interview. I think your process in going about doing this speaks to what I'm talking about.

Thank you for saying that. I feel like when we started this, I was reflecting back to you what I thought the evolution of your work was, and I loved hearing that you hadn't made that connection before. Now we've reversed roles. Hearing you reflect my process back to me, I hadn't thought about it like that before. I start these conversations that way because it feels like the right way to do something like this. It feels like a human, relationship-oriented way of talking to somebody, not just me asking you questions. It just felt natural. It's an honour to be witnessed in your work by the people who are part of the process with you, you know? This is what it's all about.

1,000%. This is what it's all about.

DUANE BOBBSEMPLE

A creative director, curator, and community organizer, Duane facilitates interconnectivity across projects to create collective experiences that push creativity to the forefront. His resume is extensive and varied- Duane has collaborated with global brands, artists, and creators throughout the community to produce projects such as public art installations, experiential events, online galleries and online/print publications.

As the founder and producer of the creative platform and consultancy, Banded Purple, Duane’s built an artistic expertise and approach to spearheading creative ventures, making his insight into the industry invaluable.