Skip to content
Join our Newsletter

Indigo Interview

You may have seen her work at Abbott and Hastings, a souvenir of her participation in Paint Your Faith last spring.

You may have seen her work at Abbott and Hastings, a souvenir of her participation in Paint Your Faith last spring. Or you may have seen her stencil from the very few pictures that came out of the super secret Underbelly Project in New York last fall.

Indigo, nee Shallom Johnson, is an artist in every sense of the word: painter, stenciler, typographer, dancer, choreographer, writer and soon-to-be filmmaker. Despite having worked in the company of international artists like Workhorse, Peeta and Remi/Rough and being constantly involved in various projects all over the world, Indigo still finds time to teach classes at Purple Thistle and to find beauty in the roughness of her downtown eastside neighbourhood.

And that makes her awesome.

Where did you grow up, and what brought you to Vancouver?

I was born in Victoria, but my family moved up to Burns Lake, in Northern BC, when I was four years old. After high school I came to Vancouver and went to SFU. I did a BFA in Contemporary Dance, with an extended minor in English. I've been here ever since.

You're a dancer, as well as an artist.

Yeah. My mom had a dance studio, so I started dancing when I was four years old. Dance was my main thing, and I've always been drawing and painting ever since I can remember. Actually, when I graduated from high school, I thought I'd either just do a degree in art or maybe that I would do both art and dance. For multiple reasons, I ended up going to the dance program instead and finishing that degree.

I worked as a performer, choreographer and dance instructor for about four years after I graduated, here and in the States. I started up a company called 30Toes with four girls that I'd gone to school with, and spent some time in Washington, DC dancing with The Liz Lerman Dance Exchange and Contradiction Dance. I got frustrated with how the industry works and the lack of opportunities available for someone who is in between the 'emerging' and 'established artist' categories. In Vancouver and elsewhere there seemed to be very little support network and no platform for mid-level artists to show their work. It was difficult for me to find work solely as a performer, because nobody here auditions and people tend to work with people they know and there's very little funding.

In spring of 2008, 30Toes presented PULSE at the Scotiabank Dance Centre with SINS Collective and Reese Terris, and then we all went our separate ways over the summer. I thought, well, maybe I'll take a break and focus on painting for a bit. I had just started stenciling and putting work up outside and was really excited about working in that medium and in a new place, working with the urban environment. So I took what ended up being my longest time away from dance ever in life, and with the exception of a couple of small projects. I worked with Foolish Operations last spring on a community project during the Olympics, and have done a bit of dance on camera stuff for mysel. Other than that, I've been away from dance for the past two years. Just getting back to it with a film project currently underway.

Why did you decide to stay in Vancouver, as opposed to going elsewhere like New York or Los Angeles?

I've been wanting to leave off and on for quite a few years. Probably the last five years in particular. I've been traveling more. While traveling and kind of scoping places out, I ask myself, "Can I live here?" Something always keeps me in Vancouver.

I've actually made the decision quite a few times that I'm moving, going to New York. Obviously it's not a decision that I've been able to follow through with as of yet. New York is one of the places I know I'll live eventually, but every time I come home again I get involved in something that keeps me here. Vancouver has so much potential. And I can see the potential that's here, and I'm interested in doing my part to help realize that. It's been a choice between stay and make something interesting happen, or go and get on board with something interesting that's already happening. I'd rather, at this point in my life, stay. I'm finally starting to build up a network that can support my dreams. Before I got really caught up in the visual art world, I had similar experiences with dance and fashion, feeling like I wanted to stay in Vancouver and help make something happen.

That's where I remember meeting you for the first time.

Yeah, I was working as a blogger and a writer, while producing some events. It was the same thing—there's so much potential. But I think part of the problem with this city is that people can be really insular, and the city itself is really insular. So getting people to work together is such a crucial part of it—helping people get out of their own little bubble and see the possibilities for international collaboration and idea-sharing.

With the amount of traveling I've done in the last year, I've been able to build up a network of artists and people who are working in the arts somehow on an international scale, and have really put a lot of work into nurturing a network of creatives on a local scale. Lately, I've been finding more local venues and funders that are interested in what I'm doing and interested in the idea of making those connections grow into collaborations on an international scale. I'm really interested in finding like-minded artists who are working here and bringing international artists to work with them to do shows or murals, fostering a dialogue and sharing ideas. I think one of my most important roles in life, going forward, will be to connect people and help turn ideas into reality.

Locally, who is also helping foster that with you? What galleries spaces are open to doing what you're talking about?

Right now, I'm working on a project with Becker Galleries on Granville Island. We started talking about working together last spring and are planning a large stencil exhibit in Fall 2012— an international stencil exhibit happening here in Vancouver. In the meantime, I'm curating a group exhibit with four artists: Remi/Rough from London, Jerry Inscoe from Portland, Augustine Kofie from L.A. and Scott Sueme from here. They're doing a group exhibit at Becker and two big murals at Moda Hotel on Seymour. It's called Unintended Calculations, and it all gets started in just over a week.

I've also been in conversation recently with an organization called Gen Why Media Projec. Run by Tara Mahoney and Fiona Rayher, Gen Why is dedicated to bringing creative people together from all walks of life to effect positive change on a global scale. They have big dreams, dreams that I wholeheartedly believe in. One of the things they do is hold get-togethers where people can talk about what they're doing and more importantly, why and how others can get involved. I spoke at the last event and was really impressed by the other speakers and performers - and have since spoken with quite a few of the people I met about working together on a project in the future. Their next event is on March 12th, you should come.

I read a New York Times article a few months ago on the Underbelly Project and found out you were a part of it, which had to be exciting. How did you become part of that?

Okay, so the first time I ever did any art-related traveling was in fall of 2009. I had just quit my job and decided to go away for a while, just travel and paint. One of those decisions that on paper looks really stupid but totally changed the course of the rest of my life, in such a huge way. My first stop was New York. I was there partially to visit friends, and was also painting at MBP Urban Arts Festival in Bushwick. I had emailed a few people before I left Vancouver saying, hey, would love to meet up for coffee or a drink, I'm going to be in town, trying to get an idea of what the scene is like and get to know some people there. So Workhorse, who is one of the organizers of Underbelly, responded and invited me be part of Underbelly. Totally unexpected and super exciting—of course, my answer was yes.

I know you can't really say much, given the nature of the project...

[Laughs] Yeah, it's a little delicate in terms of details, but it was an amazing experience and something that I was really happy to a part of and was honored to be on a list of artists that include a lot people I look up to. And the experience of painting itself—it was unlike anything else I've ever done.

Were you allowed to take pictures, or was it a case of taking pictures with your mind?

I didn't take any pictures, no. The organizers documented everything, but I didn't bring my camera down. It all had to be super secret. I didn't tell anyone about it until it went public last fall, and at the time I figured that the less people with cameras, the better.

With street art getting popular in the past few years, do you feel like the public really understands it? Or is it a point of contention that it's been commercialized?

I can only speak for myself, but it's a pattern in society and in our culture that underground movements get co-opted for commercial means by corporations. Street art is no different. It's pretty much impossible now to have something happen on an underground level that doesn't somehow make it into mainstream social and cultural advertising and clothing. Sure, it might be frustrating on some level, but it's to be expected. It's inevitable.

There are quite a few artists who have been successful in turning their creative practice and output into more of a promotion for their personal brand than anything. For as many artists doing that, there are also artists who are holding onto their integrity. Sure, we all have to make money. [laughs] Everyone has to pay rent and eat, and it costs money to make art. All of us have to balance the work they do for themselves with taking on commissions, corporate gigs or design work - or something else entirely.

How do you find that balance, without compromising who you are?

It's difficult, and I think everyone goes through that search on multiple levels. I'm still trying to figure it out. I've gone through a year of doing multiple corporate projects and private commissions. Most of the time, those things are I'm really interested in but sometimes well, not quite so much. But that kind of work helps me pay for the work that I'm really passionate about, that I'm doing for myself. Doing a commission—and more often that not it seems like someone's family portrait—helps me pay for making stencils for murals and posters for the street, or for doing a show in which I may or may not sell anything. A couple of weeks ago I took a job as gallery manager at Becker Galleries, which is not only helping offset some of my creation/production costs as an artist, but is also extremely valuable and meaningful experience, as I'd like to have my own gallery one day. Not anytime soon, but at some point in the future.

What projects have you done that are near and dear to your heart?

I did a solo show at Verve Hair Lounge in North Van in August. It was my first solo show, and the whole show concept was wrapped around my friend Jenn, who died when we were both 21 years old. It was five letterpress prints and three big oilpaintings. That was the first time since her death that I had made anything substantial with her in mind, and it was a really cathartic experience.

The pictures aren't of her; we used a model for the shoot. They would've been self-portraits if I wanted to paint myself, but I didn't. They're pictures of the person who is left behind on this plane of existence after someone dies - but I didn't want to do self-portraits, so I worked with a model. I acted as creative director for a shoot with photographer Miles de Courcy that went through the seven stages of grief, choosing from that the images I thought were most powerful. That project—conceptually and physically, in terms of working with new mediums and setting big goals on a tight timeline - was a big one for me this year.

In April, I painted a wall at Abbott and Hastings for a project called Paint Your Faith, the first big wall that I had painted in Vancouver. I got to collaborate with some amazing artists - Faith47 from South Africa, Titi Freak from Brazil and Peeta from Italy. They all flew in and we painted for about a week and did a group show at Ayden Gallery. Not only was I involved as an artist, but I ended up doing a lot of project management as well, being the only participant from Vancouver. It gave me a good taste of what's necessary for a large-scale mural to happen in Vancouver. We have a lot of red tape here when it comes to getting a wall and painting it - something that I'm getting another experience of with Unintended Calculations.

For me, the experience of doing Paint Your Faith was important because I felt like I was able to give something of substance back to my community, the downtown eastside. This part of Vancouver needs colour the most, out of anywhere I can think of. People need it here. We had so many people from the neighbourhood come up that were excited about what we were was doing. It felt really good. I try to give back in as many ways as I can. One of the reasons I'm really interested in making work outside is because with art, it feels like I'm giving back with what I have available. I don't have a lot of money, and I can only give out so many cigarettes. What I can do is make art and let it go into the world.

What can the rest of us do to support the art community here? What can be done better?

I think that we all get stuck in our own bubbles and get really focused on what we're doing. Sometimes when opportunities up to support other creative people—whether that's going to see an exhibit open or going to see a music or just getting to know the people who are also creating around you—the effort is lacking. It's not that people don't care, but because we're so focused on what we're doing and what our immediate friends are doing, we don't look outside that or aren't aware of it. And even if we are aware of it, making the jump from awareness to action - the decision to go out and support is sometimes difficult.

It's difficult for me, too, because I'm really busy. I'm working on multiple projects and multiple deadlines. Sometimes taking an hour to go and see a show feels like a lot, but really it's not a lot. I believe in what you put out is what you get back in. So if I want people to support my work, then the least I can do is support theirs. Everything is reciprocal, and when you get out of your bubble there's so much more opportunity for making those brief connections that blossom into something bigger than you could ever have expected.

A lot of it really is getting to know the network that's around you. The buildings in this neighbourhood are shared artists spaces. The Acme Building across the street used to be an old supermarket, so it's massive inside. I have some friends working there; they're been there awhile. It's chopped up into rooms, and you're working in this building with all these creatives and no one knows each other. No one takes that opportunity to get to know the other people, so that you can do something together. I've been in this building for a couple of years and we are just now getting a group of artists working here that are actually interested in getting to know eachother, in finding ways in which our creative practices can overlap, or just in hanging out every once in a while. There's so much potential there, and I keep on coming back to that word but I think in this city it's something that is so important.

Why do you think that is, the lack of communicating and getting to know one another?

I think that like I mentioned earlier, this is a really insular city. Talking to friends that have moved here, I found that people aren't closed off to getting to know you, but they don't seek it out. When I moved here, I was lucky because I was in school, but outside of school it was hard to make friends. People don't talk to strangers, and I do. There's a part of me that's shy; it takes an effort to make initial contact with someone, but especially if it's someone's work I'm interested in or if we're orbiting in the same circles, I try to reach out and make that connection. It leads to so much. And to be honest, the internet really makes it so much easier to connect with people, even people in your own city. It's so much less intimidating to send someone an email than it is to go up and talk to them at an event. I think that it can be a great tool for connecting creatives, but then you have to get to that next step where it turns into an offline experience as well. I think that's crucial, and sometimes gets forgotten. The internet is not a be-all and end-all, it's only one step in the process.

Through the experience of traveling and having no choice but to be consistently meeting new people, you see how those connections multiple and lead to much opportunity. Even things you totally don't expect, like someone you meet randomly through someone else that comes full circle in a year because there's a rad project they're doing that they think you'd fit in with. Stuff like that gets me excited, so I want to be able to encourage more of that happening here.

I think that's slowly starting to happen.

I think so, too. The process is slow, but it's happening. I'm starting to see like-minded people joining forces, and then joining forces again. It's exciting to see things building, even if it's slow. Once things start building, they tend to pick up momentum. I figure in a couple of years, I hope...

You'll still be here, right?

[Laughs] Very likely I will be here, but I can never say for sure! In a few years, I think things in Vancouver will start to get really interesting, and I'm hoping to be a part of that in whatever ways I can.

You also teach classes, too.

I: Yes. Right now I'm starting a weekly art class at Purple Thistle in East Van. I just finished a residency at Windermere Secondary, working with a grade eight class doing stencil projects through ArtStarts in Schools. I've done little workshops here and there. I taught a summer camp at the W2 in August and have taught two-day workshops at Purple Thistle once a year for the past couple years. I'm on the ArtStarts in Schools artist directory now, so am hoping to do more work in the school system going forward.

Teaching is something that I've always been interested in. When I was dancing a lot, I was teaching a lot. Probably too much—I kind of burned out. Since I took a break from dancing, it was a couple of years before I wanted to teach again. Now that I'm not doing it quite as much, it's really enjoyable. But I don't ever see myself just being a teacher. I really need time to have my own artistic practice, not just fostering others - but it's probably something that will be in my life forever.

You have a project coming up in March. Is there anything else you have on the go.

I'm going to be in South Africa for six weeks - all of April and first two weeks of May. I'l be doing a residency there, so I'll be creating a body work for an exhibit and doing some murals. I'll also be working with Six Oranges, a film company from London, to paint at least one mural for a project they're working on. I need some sun!

The next thing I have confirmed is a show in Bristol in October that's with a woman from France named Lilliwen. We've done a couple of collaborations before in the past year or so, first in Brest and then in Bristol last summer. This year we're doing a duo show at Upfest Gallery. After that, I'm going to her hometown of Brest in the north of France to participate in a project called Crimes of Minds that has about 15 international street artists, most of them from Europe. I tend to be the only Canadian in these things, more often than not. I am not quite sure how that happened.

How do you have time for all this? You write, too, for ION Magazine and the like.

I write when I can, but if I'm too busy making art to write, writing has to wait. Again, it's something that I really enjoy, not only the act of writing but getting to meet other creatives and talk to them about what they do and why.

I thought last year was really busy, until 2011 started and I realized that 2010 was nothing in comparison. It was my first year just being an artist, and I really had to learn quick what that meant and required. Working on at least one exhibit every month, plus projects and travel and working with artists I really admire, I learned a lot. This year, I feel confident I can take what I learned last year and be a bit more thoughtful about my work and what I'm doing, why I'm doing it and trying to be more selective in the amount of projects I'm taking on. Instead of doing a bunch of small exhibits, do a couple of larger ones and ideally giving myself enough time to work on each. But I really have a hard time saying no to things. I think anyone who's creative has the same problem. I keep telling myself that I'm going to do less, but so far I'm failing at that, and quite miserably. I am never not working, and I am ok with that.

Another thing I'm working on this year are these little wooden boxes. I did three of them for a show at Catalogue Gallery in December. It's an ongoing series, and I want to make as many as I can. I keep on saying one hundred of them, but I don't know if I'll make that many. They're not all going to be boxes, but working with found objects in mostly wood. They're mostly found images, too; I've been flea marketing a lot.

Will you selling these boxes?

I wasn't quite sure what I was going to do with them, because I started making them for fun, but I try not to be precious about art. I try to make something and then let it go. Putting work up outside has really helped with that feeling of not holding onto stuff. But for some reason, these little boxes, though they don't take as long as something on canvas, they're all precious. And I'm also working on a short film! I think I mentioned it before - it's my first dance project in two years and I'm super excited about it.

Why did you feel like you needed to take the hiatus from dancing?

You know that feeling when you're not as excited about something or you're more excited about something else, and you want to see where that takes you? It was a lot of that. I felt like I was doing a lot of dancing, but not getting as much out of it as I would have liked. I didn't think the break would be that long, and I went through a huge identity crisis, feeling like I wasn't a dancer anymore and not yet comfortable calling myself a painter. But I realized that just because I'm not dancing, doesn't mean that I'm not a dancer. I can be multiple things, even if I'm not doing them all at the same time.

I'm trying to find ways of incorporating dance into some facet of what I'm already doing, and have always been interested in dance on film. Though I'm not dancing in it, I'm choreographing and directing this film project. We're shooting in 16mm, which I love, just for the quality. I'm working with a bunch of my good friends to make this happen - Jocelyn Wong and Catherine Andersen are my dancers, Miles de Courcy is shooting and editing it, and Matthew Goodfellow wrote the score. Hopefully it should be finished before Africa, but it will be definitely be done sometime this spring. I'll probably have a screening in early summer, and then maybe send it off to some film festivals, we'll see. First I have to make it and hope that it doesn't suck.

What makes Vancouver so awesome?

Vancouver is awesome for many reasons. I think it's awesome because there's so many interesting, positive and amazing creatives that are living and working here. It's also awesome because of the potential this city has to do great things. I don't want to say it's a blank slate, but in some ways it is. It doesn't have as rich or as intense a history as a lot of major cities, like New York, San Francisco, London and Paris, and doesn't have nearly as much going on on a daily basis. If you do something awesome in London, there are 500 other awesome things happening all at the same time, so you have to fight for the audience and viewers to choose your awesome thing over the others. Sure, there are other things happening in Vancouver, but the chances of you reaching a larger percentage of the population is so much greater. And I want to do big things here. The city needs more colour, inside and out. And I want to help make that happen.

Oh, and we have beautiful summers, beach, mountains and wildlife! Like most other people I know, I suffer through six months of rain every year, looking forward to our perfect summers. The city's so small, you can pretty much walk to all of those things. Oh, and the cafeteria at Carnegie Centre is pretty much the most awesome place in existence to eat on a budget. Seriously, if Carnegie wasn't there, I would be going hungry on a much more regular basis. You have to brave the drug dealers and junkies outside, but it's totally worth it. And hey, some of those peeps outside are really beautiful people too. Something you learn living in the DTES is that addiction can happen to anyone and everyone, and it doesn't make you any less of a human being. I've had a lot of wonderful moments with people down here, heard their stories and shared some of my own.

Vancouver is even more awesome when you open your eyes and your heart to the people that exist on the margins. The DTES is the most honest neighborhood in the city, with the strongest sense of community, and I am very thankful for my time here.

* Photo credits: Kris Krug and Indigo