Artin Avaznia: Go Back and Get It
Written by Danielle Blais, Photography by Jason Champagne
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At 21, Artin Avanzia already has many experiences under his belt; leaving school to become a professional dancer and artist is just one of them. Now he and a collective of local dancers will be unveiling his most involving project thus far; The Velvet Rope: A Dance Short Film, in tribute to the album by Janet Jackson.
Artin began making music videos to showcase his talents around the same time he enrolled in Carleton’s social work program, though he had been developing his choreography skills long before. In his second year of school it became apparent which of these two futures was to become his vocation, and Artin decided to take a risk and give himself the opportunity to concentrate on becoming a professional dance choreographer.
“I wanted to use this time to take myself to another level, to elevate myself and my craft.”
While in school, Artin was unable to dedicate the time he needed to augment expertise in a profession that necessitates near-constant improvement. After accepting his new role, Artin took it upon himself to embrace every aspect of the music and dance industry; creating album reviews, improving his video production, generating vlog posts based around travel and music, all of which led to an increase in his viewership and found that his subscribers could already tell that this was an amateur no longer.
Artin has always had a love affair with music videos, especially those by his teachers and legendary artists Britney Spears, Justin Timberlake, and Michael Jackson, who wove complex motifs into their performances and lifted the focus above the music and into its carnal expression. He feels that his generation of dancers was the last to really develop alongside this phenomenon of cinematic production, and it’s how he - like many others - learned their craft. Artin is a product of his time; he is what happens when you don’t give up on a dream.
“As a solo artist, I hope to elevate the foreground and creative representation of the craft with my self-produced dance visuals. With the incorporation of different plot settings, storylines and costumes, this is my attempt to introduce a new perspective to the song and defy the conventional description of a dancer.”
It is intoxicating to watch Artin dance. In documenting this piece I collaborated with the talented Jason Clifford Champagne, who specializes in black and white photography. Artin brought his cousin, Tina Sol, who, with their mutual friend Sofia Snook, have worked together for many years to create independent projects surrounding dance score. We met up at the Bridgehead by Preston and then walked a short distance to an overpass where we began the shoot. It followed the length of a long industrial building, but the left side was open with spots covered by brush and undergrowth. It was late in the day, a pearl-grey sky giving us clear light even under the overpass. Tina moved around us quietly with a GoPro, and we had some Janet Jackson - a formative teacher for Artin - playing in the background.
Artin is a very confident dancer and not afraid to play around to see what works. He expresses his love for learning, be it by experimenting under an overpass or working with other dancers to create something collaborative and emotionally powerful, illustrated by the mindset that subsumes him as he slips into his flow. Jason took a few static shots before asking him to dance. “Well, what do you want?” with Jason down on the ground testing out different light shots and angles, “Something Janet-inspired.” Artin delivered. He moved smoothly, a telling sign that he had practiced until he could do this in his sleep - though you could never mistake his eyes askance.
“Half of a performance is the skill set - the rest is the connection I develop with the audience. I’m in front of you giving it my all, and if I close my eyes or look away, that’s showing you I’m not confident in my own ability, that my mind is elsewhere. Why should you respect me if I’m not confident in my art?”
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After, he showed us his discipline by performing one of his own routines; its free flowing nature exemplary of an artist crafting dynamic sculpture from the air. With Janet in mind, Artin is able to express himself with grace and honest fun, becoming the physical representation of the feeling her music lends.
To reach his goals, Artin has used this year wisely. Recently, he has begun his most daring project yet: a 30-minute dance short film inspired by Janet Jackson's Velvet Rope. The album (which turns 20 this year) denounces homophobia and opened the conversation about abuse and mental health. Much of the music is centred around our obsessive need to feel special, and uses the Ghanese concept of ‘sankofa’ to tie together a masterpiece that deserves to be listened to in chronological completion in order to reveal the interdependent marvels that, much like our own lives, need to be worked through to fully appreciate the journey we set ourselves upon.
"In order to heal as a human being, you need to open up books you had closed, chapters you never finished. So I had to go back and finish parts of my story.”
Like many artists, he hopes that this would reach Janet, but most importantly Artin wishes his portrayal of Janet’s character will make his audience feel the same way he did the very first time he listened to her album in his room so many years ago.
He isn’t going on this journey alone, from the beginning he has had the love and support from his family and close friends. He is also collaborating with a wide array of local talent, those he knows will add their own flair to the piece. This includes seven Ottawa dancers; Chris WanKam, JR, Bboy Crazy-Smooth, Dirty, Geni Lou, Taylor Poscente and Armel Mzalina, their various styles ranging from break dancing, waaking, to contemporary performances. Also featured in the film is Prufrock, slam poet and hip-hop artist, who will be performing an original piece, with Tina Sol recreating the iconic violin piece originally performed by Vanessa Mae on the Velvet Rope. Also featured in the film are local Ottawa businesses, PPL. Nightclub and Planet Coffee.
Artin's dedicated team, Tina Sol, Sofia Snook, and Kalin Anguelov will be capturing every element of The Velvet Rope: A Dance Short Film. Set to be released October 7th, the film is highly anticipated to demonstrate Ottawa’s flourishing dance scene and rekindle Janet’s message through Artin’s own interpretation,
“Don’t ever let nobody tell you, you ain’t strong enough.”
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You can find Artin on his;
Website: http://artinavaznia.weebly.com/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/artin613/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/artin.avaznia
Synchronicity: When an unnoticed occurrence begins to manifest within the backdrop of your day-to-day. You become conscious of the trend - hanging in the blind spot - only discerned through a series of vaguely causal chains. And then suddenly... it is everywhere.
Graffiti art in Ottawa is the ruffled feather of a beautiful bird, semi-migratory and ethically hawkish. It can be at times intelligible, intolerable, unconventional, profitable, political, and for those who take to the streets with running shoes and aerosol cans, liberating.
Who are these composers, writers, vandals? They leave teardrops and halos, horns and crosses. They sign their names in an indecipherable fashion to the untrained eye. They run with cliques so influence, geography, and prestige can be flaunted.
AGNS, RACER, PAT BUCK, MARO, MOPES, BUSTA,
NESPA, FALL DOWN, DRIPPING SOUL, MYRAGE,
BOSKO. NFNC, SKC, OMB, & 925.
Artists, outlaws, acclaimed citizens.
At all hours traversing this town, seeking out shadows and fresh canvas. The usual places are known to all, spots are first come, first serve, and generally recyclable. Most are part of groups sharing tags, territory, and often personal ties.
They start young, having grown up in local burrows watching construction and gentrification redefine municipal lines. There is a formative drive to see their name, their art, up on the Ottawa forum. Many who start tagging are a part of, or have friends who are involved with, the hip hop community. The music, dancing, drugs, and rhetoric highlight anti-authoritarian motives, but unpermitted street art can be about more than defacement.
Breaking the rules is frequently inherent when starting out, though Ottawa does host several open spaces (Tech Wall and the infamous HOP). Even here, a certain code-of-conduct is instructed via interaction. Unspoken, there is no rule book for tagging, but respect plays an integral role. Don’t paint over what you can’t improve; and don’t get caught.
All real estate follows a central rule. Location. Ottawa offers much in terms of architecture and unique (if not bizarre) district planning. Yet the dismal lacklustre of dirty concrete echoes the sentiment that even the grimiest canvas could look better splayed out and bespattered. Artists aforementioned claim that their initiation came by dropping their autograph anonymously among their communities and daily stomping grounds. A form of community expression, many spectators would agree it improves the scenery.
Prestige comes with productivity and skill, with renown given for their reach, upkeep, and area saturation. Though first attempts seem heinously manufactured, eventually each writer discovers a voice, sometimes even their own. Note: Emulation is flirtatious, but imitation can be rejected despite naive intention.
A seasoned artist will eventually find themselves settling for a font or iconography over longer periods of time. Rehearsal develops signatures, habits that others can recognize no matter the authorial experimentation. With practice and access to preferred caps/paint, truly resplendent pieces have graced this city in hidden corners, forgotten by urbanity and artist alike. Masterpieces charming masses; no love for the AKA.
As a matter of course, independent business owners and locals in-the-know have begun to identify the value of such capabilities. Artisans who have done nothing but pay for the privilege of paint, are now bought out to plaster beauty. Painters can find themselves offered lucrative contracts to proffer their work with the community. The projects are large-scale and regularly undervalued, but it serves to melt the puzzle-piece outline that envelopes so many turn-over locations.
In the same breath, the city will offer substantial remuneration to pre-certified artists for “public works”. A mural doled out on tax monies in the support of marginalized groups is recouped from $600 tickets given to people spending their below-LICO paychecks on spray paint and fines.
Not all graffiti is community driven. Recollections are blemished by indignant curses, slurs, and grossly misconstrued genitalia. Unfortunately, in recent memory this includes instances of fear-mongering, racial degradation, and hate speech.
Graffiti is a public echo, which re-beats the triggered pulse of the community. It carries political weight, whether intentional or not. Our society demands accountability for incitement towards hate, but can often seek to destroy the means of communication in the process. These phlegms of rage do not reflect who we are, nor the ones who deal in premeditated visions.
This medium has prevailed for millennia due to the passion of cast-aside individuals who risk livelihood, and at times, freedom to offer the rest of us emotions too big for canvas. They who are chased down, tackled, charged, pilloried, and punished for the tenacity to share their talents. Their work rarely lasts longer than that first snowfall, and the only glory that can be reveled in belongs to a pseudonym and the city to which it belongs. For those who notice their shifting backdrop, respect is a small recompense.
// images by Bust It Away Photography
I shop differently than I used to. I also don't pay for many things anymore. I guess knowing of the incredible treasures to be found in the garbage can lead to that real quick.
I went through a phase once of spending lots of money on wellness shit and organic food. I was making a fair bit of money during this time so it worked. Then life happened, I became frugal (raiding clearance sections ayyy), and began to spend less and less. Later I spent all my money on yoga and travel. Money became a limited resource. Lucky for me, some great souls spoke of dumpster diving in a way that gave me the confidence to try it. And so I did, and my first night at it I pulled out three full boxes of organic produce in seconds (high score yo). It’s kind of a super power. Just last night I was walking down Bronson and found a great Columbia sleeping bag in some sidewalk garbage bin which I then slept in that same night
“That's nice”, you say. Indeed it is. Not worrying about money as much has done wonders. Being able to travel almost money-less was a magical experience. I don’t pay for food very often anymore (at least when I have time to cook, lately that’s been a challenge). My line of work in food waste recovery and redistribution on campuses helps out a fair bit when times get tough, but that aside, I know the ways.
Consider this: walking down the produce section, you notice many a blemish on assorted sections of produce. People seem to be averse to said blemishes, so there is a fair expectation that they may be thrown away. So, all those apples and tomatoes are basically garbage that hasn’t made its way to the compactor yet. But wait! See all those other shiny pristine pieces of granny smiths about? Imagine a third or so will be tossed, too. Now stop imagining and understand that a third of those grannies (or some other significant amount) will be tossed as well. Likewise for all the other produce. And those cosmetics. And the packaged food items. And meat and dairy and bread. Basically, a lot of it will end up in the garbage, compacted or recoverable in the bags in the dumpster (heheh).
This is what I see in grocery stores. I see inevitable waste (I see other things, too). And then I go around back when the sun sets and it’s all right there. And I can have it. Only this time I don’t have to pay for it. And I get a workout out of it (diving is quite laborious, let me tell you). It's a predictable series of events happening every day in almost every food selling establishment. And it makes me gag. I don’t need that many containers of yogurt, or 20 different bottles of assorted supplements and herb powders in capsule form. Or eye shadow. A bunch of kale, some root veggies and a loaf of bread will do me well. Think broccoli is scary? Imagine having to decide whether to drag two dozen heads back home or take one and accept that it will be wasted. You get over it pretty quick though; you’d be dead before you can carry that much home.
Maybe they should give it away or something. Maybe to their employees. Could be a thing to try.
// image by Rohit Anand