All this to say that public art matters. It’s important, then, that any efforts at redesigning and expanding UBC give public art its due consideration in the planning process.
The Hatch Art Gallery wrapped up its latest exhibit, Our Space, on Wednesday. If you didn't get a chance to see it, the interactive exhibit was curated to disrupt conventional ideas of art galleries as secluded and esoteric spaces.
Experimental folk musician Tamara Lindeman sat at the piano bench against a looped video of ducks on a tranquil lake, with ten UBC music students arrayed behind her.
The newest exhibition at UBC’s Morris and Helen Belkin Art Gallery, The Willful Plot, invites visitors to take a closer look at gardens and how we relate to them.
In my house, we celebrate the Day of the Dead on November 2 by making bread, which we call bread of the dead. We make ofrendas, of course, and even dress up as vampires and ghosts as if it were Halloween, but the bread was the main ritual.
Would you believe me if I told you that I had experienced spiritual wonders — spellwork, divination, the casting and removal of curses? What if I told you that I gained insight into past lives and karmic tolls, and that it all happened in the living room of my grandfather’s house?
John Carpenter’s 1994 film In the Mouth of Madness is not a very good horror film.
From the ghostly image of a young woman’s pale face to its haunting dialogue, Ana Lily Amirpour’s 2014 film A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night is striking
With only one night to haunt, I knew exactly where I was headed.
The library was eerily quiet that night as I entered with my Starbucks drink in hand. There were no sounds of keyboards tapping, no pencils scraping against paper, no quiet sniffles coming from students. The place was abandoned.
The problem was that the horror from the books bled into my real life.
I can feel them crawling underneath my duvet, traveling up my legs, over my torso and into my mouth.
In some households, Christmas was the holiday to await, advent calendar counting down the days, chocolatey treats eaten in anticipation. But for mine, it was Halloween.
The lights flicker and I hear the call end. That simple, really. Just a little bit of rain and suddenly the whole city’s wiring is failing. It reminds me of a macro cosmic motherboard gone wrong.
Reaching down to pause her music, she stopped. The road was now unpaved, and her step cracked in the rocky dust.
Students have reported that during their lectures, they would see a dark, cloaked spectre with a Jack-o-Lantern head passing behind professors and a few other students.
She was so ill that she hardly noticed when her coworkers stopped partying around her. Shrieks of drunken laughter turned into panicked screams and a splash as her boss fell overboard.
When I turned around, she looked incredibly startled. I was somewhat confused about why she was acting so oddly, suddenly she uttered words that caught me off guard;
I flipped the page, expecting to read about a winding staircase leading to an underground dungeon, or maybe to a secret lair, but instead, I felt my head start to dip towards my chest and my eyes beginning to shut.