Summer means a break for everyone but us. Which we don't mind, because we love to have a lot going on. We spent June collecting photos of spaces that looked more like canvases than infrastructure to us. But that's the part that might confuse people: after (RE)SURFACE, Pt. 1, we really do see art everywhere.

So many things in our daily life go on in the background, without being noticed. An underpass. How it gets painted, over and over, with various-grey splotches of not-matching paint. The forever battle between the concrete and the clay and the streets. The inherent need for connection some can only find in dark tunnels, in abandoned buildings.

How many things in your life are you simply not noticing? Let's see.

I have been waiting to do this project for ages, and it percolated in various forms in my mind in the meantime. That's why we call it the STRUDELBRAND experiment; all our artistic projects begin without knowing where they will end. And then, they are discovered along the way.

The last time we did a project like this, really did it, it was July 2023 and it was TALKING LETHBRIDGE: Stories of Downtown. The last day of June that year I was messaging small businesses on instagram and asking them if they wanted to join a film project. That project spiraled from 5 - 6 businesses to 38. But I've learned, by now, not to get in the universe's way.

2025

JUNE: WE START COLLECTING PHOTOS. All sides of the city, as one must. In the end, 53 photos are selected. 51 DIFFERENT LOCATIONS. The calm before the storm.

JUNE 18: We launch our official Call For Artists. It's a video with audio pulled from (RE)SURFACE, Pt. 1. It's literally littered with Easter eggs, because one thing I've learned for sure, is that everything is always connected. Our official call is open to everyone. It's open to anyone. I ask a couple people, but not many. We want people to be free to choose.

JUNE 31: End of day; call closes at 11:59pm. By 10:30pm I'm realizing we'll accept late entries. Because I know what it's like to be bad at deadlines for when it's for something I really want to do. I know what it's like to put something off and regret it.

DAY ONE.

JULY 1: [We accept late entries: from those who submitted in early hours and the in-between-hours in which we were compiling the launch page. Game isn't on until my email is written and sensical and all my email addresses are correct and links work! But I'm shuffling around pages so much that none of them do for a minute but that buys some people more time to apply, and two more do.] We get more photos, because I want enough options for everyone to have choices! And I want weird things too, like pictures of the backs of stopsigns.

The only stopsign back we get has a sticker from the City saying Defacing This Is Illegal and I wonder, does digital art count, too?  But I don't ask that question out loud. In my imaginary Lethbridge, the Lethbridge we are imagining! things don't always have to make sense. And after all, this is just an art experiment. We have no power or influence in the City.

JULY 1, 9pm: We launch. Again. This time, it's emails: into the void. 36 artists are contacted in a bulk blast after confirming (yet again) All My Links Work. My hands are shaking as I click send. All STRUDELBRAND projects begin like this; me re-learning how excitement and anxiety feel the same in the body. We have this idea and I just know it's going to be magical. It's stressful to email a bunch of friends/strangers and say "Hey, we are doing this strange art project, do you want in?" And being open to absolutely anyone who is willing to engage with the project. You take a risk and we will meet you in the middle. It's an experiment in what we could create, really create! in this world, if we allow ourselves to dream. And one thing I know for sure, now, especially: the world needs more dreamers.

JULY 1, 9:09pm: Our first response comes in.

DAY TWO.

I remember feeling this nervous apprehension before showing our photographs to the Original Three. It felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff. But instead of falling, I just knew Things Would Never Be The Same Again. It was March 2023, 6 days before we would be premiering (RE)SURFACE, Pt. 1 to a live audience. Have you ever invited the world to a film screening for a film that doesn't technically exist yet? I wouldn't recommend it. But if you do it once, you'll be hooked forever.

I didn't know any of our artists when I asked them, really. I had met one through seeing a piece of his art in the wild and needing it. I met another at a pop-up art gallery at a residential house. And the last one I met online, when I commissioned them to paint a picture of my cat. And now, to these new friends, I came holding a hard ask. It was a big risk. Hey, do you want to be involved in this art project that I am turning into a film? I have no budget to commission you. But I will give you a photograph and you can paint on it. I just have this vision, ok? And I promise, this film will be a banger? Like, a BANGER. We've only made one film before this one, and it was shit, but this one won't be, I just know it. Oh and the film we are making about the art that you haven't made yet, is screening in 6 days at an event we've already been promoting and people are registering free tickets for. And someone with a Lethbridge City email address registered for a ticket! So if you can get your art back to me in like 4 days to give us time to film it that would be amazing! But no pressure. ..promise.

We had printed 7 oversized photos, 16x20ish, as big as we could afford to go, at the time. We laid them out before our artists: on a residential street on the westside, on a coffee table in a house I'd never been in before. Are these spaces inspiring? Are these good enough? I think a natural proclivity of artists in general, is to be critical of their own work. Do we have enough locations? Can you even paint on photo paper? Will anyone even understand what we are trying to do?

I know in my heart, like all STRUDELBRAND projects, I, too, have to Trust The Process. (RE)SURFACE, Pt. 1 taught us that yes, you can paint on photo paper. Over and over, I learn to let go. 

JULY 2, 2:30pm: Most of our artists are picking the big canvas sizes. 16x20, 20x30. I had added a disclaimer that we may not be able to provide the 20x30's to everyone, after all, we have no budget for this project and I have no boundaries to close the submission window. If you want in, you're in. I never want to exclude anyone, because I know what it feels like. We've had 36 people sign up in PHASE ONE and I calculated we could afford 20 16x20 canvases back when we only had 18 artists. I do math the only way I know how: with a calculator, holding my breath. I click numbers to represent If Every Artist Wants The Biggest Canvas and breathe a sigh of relief when the total is a number I can totally justify. I hold my breath again as I pitch my idea to The More Rational One of STRUDELBRAND. "So, I originally calculated numbers based on if we had 20 artists and everyone wanted the 16x20 size canvases, but--" he interrupts me before I even get there. What's the biggest size we are offering? 20x30. How much is it? I tell him. Let's give everyone the biggest ones they want. Can we go any bigger? I'd be ok to give the skyscrapers even bigger ones. I want these huge. I want these huge, too. And I get that very familiar feeling in my stomach again, the one that feels like excitement.

JULY 2, 9pm: It's officially been 24 hours. We already have had 24 of our PHASE ONE artists pick 24 walls. What I didn't expect, is how everyone picked a different wall, and most everyone was okay with sharing. It feels like we captured a space for everyone, one that would speak very directly to them. I'm getting messages, too. OMG, THIS ONE!!!!!! I NEED THIS ONE!!!! THIS ONE IS PERFECT! One by one, I update the photo selection page, adding (TAKEN: but willing to share) or (EXCLUSIVE) to various photos. This was actually working. The true absurdity of the STRUDELBRAND projects has always been how they unfold. If I took a bunch of photos, bought a bunch of canvases & gave them all away... what would happen?

DAY EIGHT.

JULY 8: I get an email; the first batch of enlarged photographs for the project are ready. There are five of them, for five artists. Our batch of digital images for our digital artists have been emailed off. There are six of those. I'm not a numbers Pastry, so it's a process to keep track of sizes & orders & substrates. To keep everything organized. I double-check, triple-check. It takes forty minutes to order twenty custom printed canvases with twenty different images.

Of the 37 artists that entered PHASE ONE, 32 have entered PHASE TWO.

A couple artists have contacted us to say they can't do it anymore -- something came up. It's bad timing. I contemplate if we will accept late submissions for Walls. I, more than anyone, hate a hard deadline. I figure we will decide when we get there. This project, after all, is an experiment.

JULY 8, 3:47pm: Our first enlargement is picked up, in Calgary, by the same artist who helped us kick off (RE)SURFACE, Pt. 1. I can't see that as anything but a Good Omen. We are in it, now.

JULY 8, 6:30pm: I've calculated we'll have 2.5 feet of canvases for this first batch. 2.5 feet, that is, if all of them are stacked. I can barely visualize what 2.5 feet looks like. I've never been good with math. We've secured the first batch of enlargements. The cardboard they come in is bigger than I expected. The amount of honour I feel for those who have reached out to participate in this project is immense.  I don't know how to put it into words, so I stop trying. It is in the universe's hands, now.

DAY NINE.

JULY 9, 10:54am: Our first enlargement is picked up, in Lethbridge. Our artist tells us "my biggest problem will be having to decide which idea to go with. I have so many ideas...".  We laugh. We know what that's like.