An evident a labour of love, Kiva handled every stage of the process leading to the show’s opening. The photography, of course, but also more overlooked aspects such as the careful photograph development, the aforementioned framing (specially ordered and paid for out of pocket before being assembled by hand), and even the placement of the nails required for his photographs to hang together or apart.

The works themselves are mostly photos from a fourth-year independent study on exhibiting as an artist with Kiva’s mentor, Thaddeus Holownia. It could be argued that the show was conceived then, or four years ago when, as Holownia put it, Kiva “plopped himself into my office and said, ‘I want to do a minor in photography.’ ” Or, if his mother can be trusted, when he initially picked up photography, following in his father’s footsteps. Whatever the case, Kiva has long been involved with photography and this show can be understood as the first culmination of his experience.

“This is about how I see things, but it’s also about all the relationships that I have. It’s a thank you for all the relationships and nature and all that, things that bring me deep, deep joy,” said Kiva. There’s no cynicism here; the show is entirely shots of nature and people, many of whom may seem familiar to Sackville residents. All the models are Kiva’s friends, roommates and his partner Hannah Longard, who is featured several times in The Living Road, as well as in his past works.

Unsurprisingly, there was a degree of trepidation on Kiva’s part leading to his show. “I think there’s a difference between … seeking to hear from the people you care about – your professors, people who you’re close with – as opposed to putting it out to everybody and saying, ‘Hey, I actually think this is worthwhile for you to spend your time on.’ And that’s a little scary.”

This fear of creating something inaccessible led Kiva to make “work that a lot of people can get into, but then giving people different ways to get into the work, be it formal qualities, be it the content. We can all connect to loving our friends and our family and our lovers, and we can all connect to loving nature.”

As hoped, the wide range of photographs seemed to appeal to the visitors. “The pairings of the photos, when they’re presented together, feels both natural and thought-out in composition and theme,” said Logan Doyle, a fourth-year cognitive science student, referring to the photographs Kiva organized as diptychs and triptychs. “It feels like they were put together, but they were meant to be together.”

Molly Bowes, Kiva’s friend, also commented on her appreciation of how the photographs felt natural. “I think all of that stuff [composition, etc.] is kind of second-hand to the way the photos make you feel,” she said.

With such a wide range of themes – “life and death, friendship and love, the environment and time,” according to an artist statement – it is unsurprising that they would need to be explored in a large-scale project. It is also unsurprising that people responded to different works for a wide range of reasons, though Kiva later told me that “People really like shirtless Sylvan.”

It feels necessary (read legal) for me to share that I am the Argosy’s managing editor, while Kiva is one of its two editors-in-chief. I helped Kiva in the later stages of the development; notably, my gloved hand can be found pinching his nose on the @mta_fineart Instagram page. I also helped him assemble the frames used in his show and used a level and measuring tape for something at one point too.

SHOAL’s location seems to be as important as is its components: it can be found off Lorne Street, only indicated by its sign (now fallen) and tall, thin logs protruding from the tall grass. When I first visited SHOAL, Lorne was completely dug out for construction. I had to navigate the site carefully, climb into the newly dug canal, balance myself across a rickety plywood bridge (for all I knew this was wood stolen from the construction site), and then sidle along the opposing edge of the canal, brushing past tall grass. I could here see that below the large sign was a bench, presumably so I could catch my breath after the urban gauntlet I had just endured.

The installation itself was inside the tall grass, which had been packed down in a gourdish shape, its stem being the entrance next to the sign. A rail was installed behind the sign to help visitors into the heart of the installation. Once I got closer I could see what the thin logs were for: to border the enclosure I now found myself in. Set up in a semicircle around the stamped grass and lined with a net, this border was reminiscent of a cage. Poking through the net’s holes were sprigs of unstamped, tall grass.

Inside the enclosure were several hollowed-out logs mounted on thin poles, each approximately knee-high. These were scorched inside and very smooth – man-made creations altered beyond anything else found inside the installation. They were holy relics contained within the reliquary, I suppose. Also found inside was a dead bird, bound and suspended by rope, that acted as an archway into the enclosure. This was my first experience with SHOAL.

After the summer, I returned to SHOAL. The installation itself initially appeared untouched. The first difference I noticed was the state of Lorne Street. The construction had progressed, but not by much. The street was no longer a ravine; it was now an extended dust bowl. The second thing I noticed was that the bridge had mysteriously vanished. This meant I had to go around the now-filled canal and balance along the entire edge of the canal, while the tall grass pushed at me like hundreds of tiny arms, to get to the installation. By the time I was comfortably planted on my two feet and ready to revisit SHOAL, I was uncomfortably covered in burs. My entire left flank, including the exposed part of my left sock, resembled a spiky carapace. It took about an hour of dedicated picking to have these totally removed. I had to interact directly with nature to visit the installation, and it looked like the installation had had its own interactions with nature as well.

The thin logs that prevented visitors from stamping down any unpartitioned tall grass had begun to collapse; the wood must have been rotting. The fibres that suspended the bird corpse had begun to disintegrate and the bird now dangled from only one of its two supports. The trampled grass had begun to bounce back, unfurling after having been pressed so flat against the ground. The charred logs seemed to be the least altered by time and elements, although they were altered by humans prior to installation.

I returned to SHOAL again in the winter. The sign was now lying on the ground and covered with snow. I think the bench was gone. The charred logs had also disappeared, presumably to preserve the labour that went into making them. SHOAL’s degradation seemed to have halted for the season, but it would probably continue in the spring, perhaps disappearing into the tall grass with as little a trace as it appeared.

On Monday, Jan. 15, Dr. Jean-Paul Boudreau, special advisor and executive lead at Ryerson University, visited campus to meet with the University’s students, faculty and staff. He could be found four times at three different locations across campus.

Boudreau spent one hour at each event. At the three formal presentations, Boudreau was given 30 minutes to present and 30 minutes to answer questions. Mount Allison also organized a more casual pizza lunch at Gracie’s Café with Boudreau. As the events were planned during class time, the Argosy only had the opportunity to cover the 3:30 p.m. presentation in Flemington.

Flemington 116 was packed with faculty members and staff. Ron Outerbridge, chair of the Presidential Search Committee, opened the floor. He took the time to introduce the committee members who were present and asked the audience for confidentiality, saying, “He’s on a vacation day today. Just don’t go around and put stuff on Twitter and stuff like that.”

Boudreau began with a 30-minute PowerPoint presentation outlining his employment history and professional qualifications. It also delved into his six ideas that capture the opportunities and challenges he was expecting to encounter in his new role, which he collectively called a “six-point plan, or beginning of a plan.” These are: communicating success, mapping our future, advancing exceptional student experiences, building important partnerships with our community, supporting research scholarship creativity and advancing and supporting financial stability.

The second half of the presentation was dedicated to answering questions from audience members. The first question came from someone who had not had the opportunity to ask their question at an earlier presentation due to time restraints.

When asked about his “thoughts on freedom of speech and academic freedom in light of things that are playing out these days,” Boudreau said, “I think [that] it’s a core part of the DNA of the university and … it’s what we do in university: we have critical engagement, we have debates – we agree, we disagree – but we protect the right to have that debate, and that’s a really precious right and one that we should continually support and stand strong and tall to protect.”

Boudreau was also asked to talk a bit about his personal research. He said, “My own work that I’m really proud of is really, I would say, my observations of making a case that the human body in early development is as strong, if not stronger, than in cognitive development. Because we tend to put cognition ahead of action, and in my field we tend to put action ahead of cognition because … we’ve shown how action can drive cognition.”

Another attendee asked what Boudreau had planned in terms of increasing diversity of the faculty. “You’d be surprised what happens in hiring committees because the first thing that often happens is ‘I like this person, gee, they look an awful lot like me.’ And I don’t mean just visually, but I mean they look at the CV and they see a lot of themselves there and that creates these unconscious biased pathways which we really need to guard against,” said Boudreau. “I think at times we can’t look at that [Indigenous person’s] CV the same way that we look at a non-Indigenous CV. And I think that is something that many of our universities are just starting to really grapple with and coming to an understanding of. They need to think differently about it.”

There were still audience members left wanting to ask questions as Outerbridge brought this question period to an end. The timing and length of the presentations were not ideal for student and faculty attendance as the presentations were scheduled during class times. For those who were unable to attend the presentations and lunch, Boudreau offered to answer any “burning question” through his Gmail account, accessible through the Presidential Search Committee. “I don’t use my university account for obvious reasons,” he said.

Thrice these three kings, grandly bid by gold sun,

Are, in fairest gold each, coronated.

Gifts by Phoebus graced and Phoebus shielded

That soon are dwarfed twicewise by what follows:

The first will come, welcome, liquid and gold;

In engulfing decadence do they drown.

They lie still upon a precious porce’lain

Carven from false kin, true peril, Phoebe.

Here: right arm’s hand armed with ravenous blade.

And here: left tool, toothful trident that bites

Blue blood oozing blood red: sanctified gold.

For now, first foe of Eleven draws near.

Born of poor brand, present with intent ill.

This foul cuckoo does contend the good realm.

“The fourth wishes forth blessèd fourth baptism.

Oh yes, bring the bastard here before us.

You of noble promise, noble passions possess.

We will honour your will for your favour.”

So falls one outpour more, it too is gold.

“Choke thine rank pores with wealth, thou vile villain.”

All are shorn and crushed and torn and hushed and

Punctured, lacerated, shredded, devour’d.

Acts of the harsh radiance above all.

The one putrid, to earth is now joinèd;

No good entity shall of decay taste;

Putrefaction needn’t a monument;

Dead life and black loam marks these tainted grounds.

Hear here The Bell’s mournful cacophony,

An acknowledgement of cruel intrusion

That does earn detestable perdition,

That does earn a second Hell, worse than first,

Fraught with hotter flames and colder ices.

For none and no other may pervert this:

Single sharpest lustrous day: Shrove Tuesday.