rabies in vancouver: a warning, and a story from zipolite

A public safety warning and a personal story from Mexico

Things are happening, and I don't know whether it's climate-related, El Niño, or simply another reminder that the world around us is changing. I do know that we need to pay attention.

On October 21, news broke that a skunk in Vancouver's West End had tested positive for rabies after biting several people. Those who were bitten have received preventive treatment, but Vancouver Coastal Health is warning anyone who may have been bitten or scratched by a sick or abnormally behaving skunk in the area between September 22 and October 17 to seek assessment.

Rabies is serious. Please don't approach or handle wildlife that is acting strangely. Keep your pets' vaccinations up to date, and if you are bitten or scratched by a potentially infected animal, wash the wound thoroughly with soap and water and seek medical attention immediately.

Read the news report.

I have my own rabies story.

a rabies story from zipolite

About 20 years ago, when my kid was little, I tried to enrol them in kindergarten in Mexico.

What a disaster.

There were big misunderstandings involving languages, camionetas, and just about everything else. But something good came out of that experience: I reconnected with friends I'd first met seven years earlier.

My friend wasn't there that day. Her husband and child were, along with my kid, who was sitting on the back of a motorbike.

And I'm thinking, what the heck is going on?

We were trying to catch up, the kids were talking and laughing, and I asked where my friend K was.

That's when I heard she'd been bitten by a rabid cat.

What?

I was standing there trying to process that information while everyone else was carrying on. S and O had to leave, so I didn't get the whole story right then.

Later, I learned what had happened.

A rabid cat had entered their home. My friend was washing dishes, or doing something similar, when the cat latched onto her ankle with its teeth and claws.

She was screaming. Her husband came to help and had to kill the cat to get it to release its grip.

She received rabies shots. When I eventually saw the wound, it looked horrible.

This happened in Zipolite, Oaxaca, about two decades ago.

how things change

Back then, people didn't generally have cats as pets, and there was a serious rat problem.

Then Stephan, a veterinarian from Switzerland, arrived and started doing a lot of great work. Over time, I saw a change. More people had cats and dogs, and many made a real effort to care for them.

That is the part of the story I want to remember, too. People can make a difference when they put time, care and effort into their communities.

But caring for animals also means taking animal health seriously.

Whether you're in Vancouver, Mexico, or somewhere else in the world, don't assume an animal is safe to approach just because it looks familiar. A normally friendly animal can become ill, and wildlife behaving unusually should be left alone.

Rabies is preventable after exposure if the right treatment is given promptly, but once symptoms develop, it is almost always fatal.

Please be careful out there. Look after yourselves, your children and your animals. And if you see wildlife behaving strangely, keep your distance and contact the appropriate authorities.

Sometimes a personal story from 20 years ago is a good reminder for today.

#RabiesAwareness #Vancouver #WildlifeSafety #AnimalWelfare #Zipolite #Oaxaca #PublicHealth #ResponsiblePetOwnership #StaySafe #WaterIsLife

must we?

 

must we? art, money, and a very strange little word

There is a certain irony in life.

Recently, I was thinking about money laundering. I had also shared — or perhaps deleted, or perhaps it was removed; I honestly can't remember — a joke by an artist who said he was going to work for the cartel.

Why?

Because Gustavo sells bad art online and pays better than the fine art world.

Or so the joke went.

Funny? Perhaps. But it also raises questions about money, art, value, and the sometimes peculiar relationship between them.

Then I came across this.

John Baldessari: “I Will Not Make Any More Boring Art.”

A promise worth repeating, apparently.

Baldessari's 1971 work is among his most iconic pieces. The sentence is repeated like lines written on a classroom chalkboard, reflecting his characteristic humour and his questioning of what constitutes art.

The auction listing gives it an estimated value of $40,000–$60,000.

And suddenly, I was thinking about Grade 5.

must. must. must.

We had recently got swings at school. Naturally, we were excited. So excited that we raced outside BEFORE the bell to get to them.

We all got in trouble.

My punishment was to write 100 times:

I must not leave class before the bell.

One hundred times.

I suspect this may be why I get writers' cramp.

But halfway through, something strange happened.

I started questioning the word must.

Must.

What a weird word.

I stopped to puzzle over it. Must. Must. Must.

Why must I?

Who decided I must?

And why did repeating a word over and over make it look increasingly strange?

Unfortunately, I had to hurry. The stupid bus was coming, and there would be no swings for me that day.

I didn't know it then, but that little moment of questioning would stick with me.

I wrote more about that childhood memory in a separate post called The Swings.

i will not make any more boring art

Years later, I come across an artist who turned a sentence about not making boring art into a work estimated at tens of thousands of dollars.

I wonder how many people would have considered my 100 lines a work of art.

Would it have mattered if someone had framed them? Would the price have changed if I had been a famous artist?

Probably.

But that is the curious thing about art.

Sometimes the value isn't in the materials, the hours spent working, or even the beauty of the finished piece. Sometimes it is in the idea, the context, the artist's reputation, the history behind the work, or the questions it makes us ask.

Baldessari took a familiar classroom exercise and transformed it into something that challenges our ideas about creativity, conformity, and what we call art.

And I can appreciate that.

Although I can't help wondering how many of us have been told to repeat something without ever being encouraged to question it.

money, art, and the price of an idea

This brings me back to that joke about the cartel and the artist who supposedly pays better than the fine art world.

I'm not suggesting that the joke proves anything about money laundering, or that an expensive artwork is evidence of wrongdoing. It isn't.

But the relationship between art, money, reputation, and perceived value is worth thinking about.

Who decides what art is worth?

Who decides which artists deserve recognition?

And why can one person struggle to sell an original painting while another person's written sentence becomes a highly valued work of art?

An auction estimate isn't necessarily the final selling price, either. It is an estimate of what a work might fetch.

Still, $40,000–$60,000 is a considerable sum for a sentence.

Perhaps that is part of the point.

Art doesn't always have to be pretty. It doesn't always have to make immediate sense. Sometimes it makes us laugh. Sometimes it irritates us. Sometimes it asks us to reconsider something we thought we understood.

Sometimes, apparently, it makes us think about Grade 5 and the peculiarities of the English language.

Must.

Must we?

I don't have all the answers. I'm an artist, not an auction house.

But I do know that a painting's value isn't the same thing as its price, and that an artist's worth cannot be measured by an auction estimate.

Some of us make art because we have something to say. Some of us make it because we see the world differently. Some of us make it because we can't help ourselves.

And sometimes, we make it because we have questions.

I still have plenty.

I also have paintings to sell, a bus to catch, and absolutely no intention of writing that sentence another 100 times.

Besides, I have always preferred making my own art.

Zipolita

The swings

 

must. must. must.

Our school had just got swings.

Naturally, we were all excited. So excited that we raced outside BEFORE the bell to get to them.

We all got in trouble.

My punishment was to write 100 times:

I must not leave class before the bell.

One hundred times.

I suspect this may be why I get writers' cramp.

But somewhere around the halfway mark, something else happened.

I started questioning the word must.

Must.

What a weird word.

I stopped to puzzle over it. Must. Must. Must.

Why must I?

Who decided I must?

And why did repeating a word over and over make it look increasingly strange?

I had to hurry, though. The stupid bus was coming, and there would be no swings for me that day.

Looking back, there is more to that classroom memory than a punishment and a funny word.

It was 1974. Indigenous children were coming into the public school system, and there were all kinds of issues playing out around us. I didn't understand the bigger picture at the time. I was a kid. I thought what I saw was just the way things were.

My teacher was mean and racist. He used the strap, and Indigenous children were failed by a system that was supposed to educate them. I didn't have the language or understanding to make sense of all of that then.

I do now.

I was fortunate enough not to get strapped myself. I was a girl, and that made a difference. But I wasn't exactly a model student, either. I swore, and my teacher sent me into the hallway.

The funny thing is, I liked it out there.

I was actually trying to get kicked out of school, but he wouldn't do it.

Perhaps I had already begun questioning authority, even if I couldn't have explained it that way. I knew I didn't like being told what to do simply because someone had the power to tell me.

And there I was, sitting in the hallway, being punished for swearing, while the classroom carried on without me.

I didn't know then how much I didn't know. I couldn't see the full picture of what was happening to Indigenous children, or understand how racism and unequal treatment could shape a child's entire experience of school.

But I remember.

And I still find myself returning to that little word.

Must.

Must we accept everything we're told?

Must we assume that the person in charge is right?

Must we keep repeating the same things simply because that's how they've always been done?

Apparently, even in Grade 5, I had questions.

I just hadn't learned how to write them down yet.

day in vancouver: art, survival, and a man on the pavement 💔

a day in vancouver: art, survival, and a man on the pavement 💔

A note to readers: I am finding this blog post difficult to write. I am still upset and disturbed by what I witnessed, and I am struggling to put the experience into words. My recollection of some details may not be entirely accurate, but I have done my best to share what I remember, honestly and to the best of my ability. This is my account of what I experienced that day.

Yesterday started like any other day when you're trying to figure out how to keep a roof over your head, or at least find somewhere to sleep.

I was actually trying to find a sleeping bag.

Sometimes you have to face reality, even when you don't particularly want to. I may be sleeping outside in a week. I still don't have the money I need, and I have been trying to sell my paintings to raise enough for a plane ticket and a room in Mexico.

My room is being renovated, and it looks almost ready. That's good news. But a room being renovated doesn't pay for a plane ticket, and hope doesn't pay the rent.

So, I went into the city.

I had another idea to try to sell my paintings, and I was also hoping to find an opportunity to have some of my work displayed during the Eastside Culture Crawl, November 19–22.

I wasn't sure what to expect. I didn't know the rules or what they were looking for, and I worried that my paintings might not fit the theme.

But sometimes you just have to try.

one strange thing after another

The day had an odd feeling to it from the beginning.

I got off the bus and started walking. The street felt strange, dirty and unpleasant. I noticed things that made me uncomfortable, although I couldn't have explained exactly why at the time.

I walked down Commercial toward Clark Drive, and as I arrived, I noticed a men's centre. I remember thinking, ohhh.

I saw one man eating his food quietly, while another man was throwing his food all over the lawn. He then went over and started doing something around a water fountain.

I made a wide circle around him, pretending I was going the wrong way, and went around the corner.

That's when I came across Recovery Cafe.

I'd seen the word cafe, and it hadn't really registered what the place was. I hadn't put the pieces together.

I was there on the last day to drop off artwork for an exhibition called Art Against Stigma, connected with the Culture Crawl.

Well, I thought, why not?

I went inside.

twenty paintings

I met Damian, who was very patient with me.

I was worried and unsure about whether my work was suitable. He asked me to pick my ten best paintings. I did that, and then he asked me to pick ten more.

I actually said, "Really?"

Yes, really! He explained that my paintings were quite small, so having more of them wouldn't be a problem.

I ended up leaving twenty paintings with him for the Culture Crawl, November 19–22.

Whatever sells, I get to keep the money.

I don't know whether they will sell. I saw a couple of other artists' work, and they had some cool stuff. But at least my paintings will have a chance to be seen.

I left feeling hopeful. A little nervous, perhaps, but hopeful.

I had tried something, and someone had given me an opportunity.

I really hope it works out.

Because right now, I need it to.

then i crossed the street

On my way to the SkyTrain, I saw a man lying on the pavement.

I crossed the street, then ran across another part of the road to get to him.

There was an older white man standing nearby. I asked if the man on the ground was okay.

He said yes.

But the man lying there didn't look okay at all.

He was Indigenous, and his skin was so pale that it frightened me. He was lying on his back on the cold cement, his body positioned strangely, one leg looking awkward. His glasses were askew, and his shirt had ridden up.

I called out to him loudly.

"Are you okay?"

He didn't respond.

I reached toward him and told him I was going to touch him. I touched his neck, trying to establish whether he was responsive. His skin felt incredibly cold.

For a moment, I actually thought he was dead.

I said so out loud.

Then he moved a little.

I kept calling out to him.

The other man told me he'd been there for about three hours.

Three hours?

I was looking at this man, trying to work out whether he was breathing, wondering what had happened to him. I didn't know whether he had overdosed, whether he was ill, or whether something else had happened.

There was drug paraphernalia around.

The older man was yelling something along the lines of, "What are you going to do, call an ambulance so they can Narcan him?"

I found myself asking him what he was doing to help.

I said, "The problem is, honey, he's lying on cold cement."

I was trying to lighten the situation a little, although there was nothing funny about what was happening.

Then the man gathered up the drug paraphernalia, got on his bike and left.

I don't know who he was or what had happened before I arrived. I don't know whether the man on the pavement had been robbed, whether he was homeless, or whether anyone was looking for him.

I only know what I saw.

And I was frightened that he might die there.

the woman with the kinder surprises

Then a woman appeared, carrying a tray of Kinder Surprise chocolates.

I know. It sounds surreal.

She started talking about whether the man might have taken drugs, or something along those lines. I can't remember her exact words.

I asked whether anyone had called 911.

She started making the call and wanted me to speak to the operator.

Meanwhile, I was carrying my paintings and my belongings. I was trying to keep an eye on everything while watching the young man on the ground and trying to get the people around him to do something.

Someone asked whether I was going to give him Narcan.

I didn't have any.

I was trying to get a response from him, calling out and trying to make sure someone was doing something.

The woman was still on the phone with 911, answering questions. I became increasingly frustrated.

I wanted to know whether an ambulance was coming.

I understand that emergency operators need information. But when you're standing beside someone who looks as though he might be dying, every question can feel like an eternity.

At one point, I called out to the young man:

"Come on, sweetie. You've got to get up. It's too cold to be on the ground."

And very groggily, he managed to stand.

I was relieved to see him move, but I was still deeply concerned about him.

I eventually had to leave. I passed the phone back to the woman, who was still there.

And I walked away.

what happens when everyone is afraid to act?

I was so upset.

I was angry that the man had apparently been lying there for hours. I was angry that it seemed to take so much effort to get people to respond. I was angry that I couldn't do more.

Perhaps people were frightened. Perhaps they didn't know what to do. Perhaps language was a barrier. I don't know what was going through anyone else's mind.

But I kept thinking: what if nobody had stopped?

I don't know whether I arrived at a critical moment. I cannot know what would have happened if I hadn't called out to him.

But I was concerned enough to stop, and I couldn't simply pretend I hadn't seen him.

Our city has become a place where we encounter people in terrible circumstances on ordinary streets, on our way to catch a bus or go to work or buy groceries.

We see people who are struggling, people who are unwell, people who may be experiencing addiction, homelessness, or some combination of things we cannot see from the outside.

And sometimes I wonder whether we are becoming too accustomed to it.

When does a person lying on the pavement stop being an emergency and become just another thing we walk past?

When do we stop seeing the person?

I don't have the answers.

I know that calling 911 matters. I know that an opioid overdose can be fatal and that naloxone can save a life. I know that someone who is unresponsive needs urgent help.

I also know that I am one person, carrying my own belongings and trying to work out where I will sleep next week.

I cannot save everyone.

But I don't want to become someone who no longer notices.

a city of contradictions

There was something else that stayed with me.

The man on the pavement was Indigenous. I don't know his story, where he came from, or what had brought him to that street. I don't know whether he has family looking for him.

But Indigenous people who come to cities can face enormous challenges, especially when they are far from their communities and without secure housing or support.

Every person has a story. Every person has people who might worry about them.

I even wondered afterward whether I should have taken a photograph in case he was missing. But I was trying to establish whether he was alive. Taking a photograph wasn't what I was thinking about at the time.

I may contact people who work with missing persons to share what I witnessed.

I hope that man is alive. I hope someone helped him. I hope he has people who care about him.

I don't know what happened after I left.

And that uncertainty is difficult to sit with.

art against stigma

The strange thing is that I had gone out looking for a way to keep myself afloat.

I was looking for a sleeping bag because I may be sleeping outside soon.

I was trying to sell my paintings because I need money for a ticket and a room.

I went to Recovery Cafe almost by accident, and I came away with an opportunity to have twenty paintings displayed during the Eastside Culture Crawl.

Art Against Stigma.

The words have stayed with me.

Art can open a door. It can tell stories that people might otherwise overlook. It can make us look again at the world around us.

I don't know whether my paintings will sell. I don't know how I will pay for everything I need. I don't know exactly what happens next.

But yesterday, someone gave my work a chance.

And yesterday, I stopped for a man who needed help.

Both things happened in the same city, on the same day.

One left me hopeful.

The other left me heartbroken.

I came home carrying both.

Sometimes life really is like that. You can find a little light in one corner of the day and witness something devastating in another.

I am grateful for the opportunity Damian gave me. I hope the paintings find homes, and I hope the Culture Crawl brings people through the door who connect with my work.

For now, I need to keep trying.

And I hope that somewhere, that man is safe.

Because no one should have to lie on cold concrete, wondering whether anyone will notice.

💔

— Tina Winterlik, aka Zipolita

 

foreign interference: is the united states helping to break up canada?

Alberta separatism, American political influence, a proposed $500-billion credit facility, and the need for a full investigation

By Tina Winterlik aka Zipolita

Canada needs to take a very serious look at what has been happening behind the scenes between American officials, political operatives and people advocating for Alberta to separate from Canada.

This is about more than provincial politics. It is about Canadian sovereignty, foreign interference, our natural resources and the future of our country.

We have watched the United States interfere in the political affairs of other countries throughout modern history. Governments have been undermined, leaders removed, and political movements supported when their objectives aligned with American strategic or economic interests.

Why would we assume Canada is somehow immune?

meetings in washington: what do we know?

On January 28, 2026, the Financial Times reported that representatives of the Alberta Prosperity Project, an organization advocating Alberta's independence, had met with US State Department officials in Washington on three occasions since April 2025.

Jeff Rath, a lawyer associated with the organization, spoke publicly about the meetings and claimed the American administration was enthusiastic about Alberta independence.

The reporting also described a proposed US$500-billion credit facility that separatists were exploring as a possible financial arrangement for an independent Alberta.

That is an extraordinary amount of money.

It is important to be precise: the reporting does not establish that this money was approved, transferred or formally promised. American officials denied making commitments, and the US Treasury indicated that it was not aware of the proposed credit facility.

Nevertheless, the meetings themselves raise legitimate questions.

Who attended? What was discussed? What documents were presented? What assurances, if any, were given? What did the American participants expect in return?

And why were people discussing the potential financial future of a province that remains part of Canada with officials of a foreign government?

Sources:

• Financial Times — Trump officials met group pushing Alberta independence from Canada
• Canadian Press — Smith, Carney say Trump team must respect Canadian sovereignty

what is being offered, and to whom?

Further reporting published in October 2026 raised additional concerns.

The Globe and Mail reported on proposals discussed in connection with Alberta's potential independence, including access to resources such as fresh water and oil royalties. There are disputes about what was actually discussed: Jeff Rath rejected claims that negotiations of this kind took place.

That disagreement makes documentation even more important.

We need to see the original proposals, meeting records, correspondence and any available evidence of what was presented to American officials.

Alberta's water, oil, natural resources, public assets and economic future are not bargaining chips that a private group can simply promise to a foreign power on behalf of millions of people.

Calgary Mayor Jeromy Farkas also publicly criticized the reported dealings in October, questioning why separatists would discuss the province's assets with American interests.

Source:

• Global News Canada — How some Alberta separatists are courting U.S. support for independence

foreign interference is not a far-fetched concern

Consider the historical record.

In 1953, the CIA participated in the operation that overthrew Iran's Prime Minister Mohammad Mossadegh. His government had nationalized Iran's oil industry, and British and American concerns about oil and geopolitical influence formed part of the background to the coup.

In Guatemala in 1954, a CIA-backed operation helped overthrow President Jacobo Árbenz. Declassified American government records document plans involving economic and diplomatic pressure, psychological warfare, paramilitary activity and attempts to undermine political and military leaders.

These are documented historical events, not conspiracy theories.

Sources:

• Associated Press — The 1953 CIA-backed coup in Iran
• US Department of State, Office of the Historian — CIA's role in the overthrow of Árbenz in Guatemala

The circumstances in Canada are not identical to those historical cases. We should not pretend that a meeting proves a coup is underway.

But history demonstrates why countries must pay attention when foreign powers develop relationships with domestic political movements that could fundamentally change a nation's government, borders or control over its resources.

Foreign interference does not always begin with soldiers crossing a border. Political influence, financial incentives, strategic relationships and efforts to exploit existing divisions can also matter.

why canada should be concerned

Alberta has legitimate political disagreements with the federal government. Albertans have every right to debate federalism, resource policy, taxation and constitutional questions.

That is democracy.

But there is a difference between Canadians debating their own future and a domestic political movement seeking support from a foreign government that could benefit from Canada's fragmentation.

If foreign financial support were offered in exchange for political or economic concessions, Canadians would have every reason to demand transparency.

If foreign political operatives were helping to shape an independence campaign, that would also deserve scrutiny.

And if there were efforts to influence voters through foreign funding, targeted political technology or undisclosed coordination, the public deserves to know precisely what happened.

These questions require evidence, not assumptions. But they also require more than a casual dismissal of the concerns.

who is investigating?

Patrick Lennox, a former RCMP intelligence manager and national-security expert, has raised serious concerns about Alberta separatism and foreign interference. His book, On Treason: Alberta Separatism, Foreign Interference, and Canada's Survival in a Revolutionary Age, examines these issues.

Lennox's assessment is an important contribution to the public debate, but his conclusions should be examined alongside primary documents, independent reporting and the findings of appropriate authorities.

Source:

• Alberta Politics — On Treason: a guide to Alberta's separation referendum

The questions I want answered are straightforward:

• Have Canadian national-security agencies examined the meetings between Alberta separatists and American officials?
• Have the proposed financial arrangements been investigated?
• Have officials examined possible foreign funding, political coordination or voter-targeting activities?
• Are meeting records and relevant documents available for independent scrutiny?
• What safeguards exist to prevent foreign governments from influencing a Canadian referendum?
• If evidence of unlawful foreign interference exists, what action will be taken?

These are reasonable questions in a democratic country.

canada belongs to canadians

We cannot control the decisions of the American government. We can, however, demand that our own institutions protect Canadian sovereignty and investigate credible allegations of foreign interference.

This is not about demonizing Americans or suggesting that every person who supports Alberta independence is working for a foreign power. It is about transparency, accountability and protecting the democratic rights of Canadians.

The United States is a powerful neighbour with enormous economic influence over Canada. That makes it especially important that our political future is not shaped through undisclosed arrangements with foreign interests.

Alberta is part of Canada. Its people, resources and future are not the private property of separatist organizations, political operatives or foreign governments.

If there are documents, financial proposals, political arrangements or communications that could establish foreign interference, they need to be examined and made public wherever legally possible.

We should not have to wait until a threat becomes a crisis before taking it seriously.

We have seen what foreign interference has done in other parts of the world. We know it is possible. We know governments have pursued their interests at the expense of other nations.

Canada must not be naïve.

I want to see the documentation. I want transparent answers. And I want our government to demonstrate that protecting Canadian sovereignty is more than a talking point.

Our democracy belongs to us.

Our country is not for sale.

---

10 keywords: foreign interference, Alberta separatism, Canadian sovereignty, United States politics, Jeff Rath, Patrick Lennox, Alberta Prosperity Project, $500-billion credit facility, national security, Canadian democracy

 

enough with the hello kitty already

On consumerism, disposable culture, expensive art, Vancouver's disappearing communities, and a world that seems to have forgotten what matters.

Honestly, enough already.

Bruno Mars and Hello Kitty. Hello Kitty at Burger King. Hello Kitty on clothing, bags, toys and collectibles. Limited editions. Special releases. Another thing to buy, another thing to own, another thing to convince ourselves we need.

And people line up to spend their money.

Meanwhile, people are sleeping outside in Vancouver. Families are struggling to afford groceries. Children are growing up in a world filled with uncertainty. People are getting sicker, lonelier and more disconnected from one another.

But there's always money for another product.

I know, I know. People are entitled to enjoy themselves. A Hello Kitty shirt isn't responsible for homelessness, and nobody should have to feel guilty about buying something that makes them happy.

That's not the point.

The point is the sheer scale of a consumer culture that can manufacture an endless supply of wants while struggling to meet some very basic human needs.

We have become exceptionally good at selling things.

I'm not so sure we've become equally good at looking after one another.

we used to make supper

Our parents cooked. Eating out was generally a treat, not an everyday arrangement. You learned how to prepare food, use leftovers, stretch a dollar and make something from whatever happened to be in the cupboard.

Now we have delivery apps that can bring a meal to our door without our having to leave the sofa.

I have a friend who spends $15 to $20 a day eating out. That's $450 to $600 a month, or $5,475 to $7,300 a year.

That's a considerable amount of money.

But there's another side to this story. My friend has become forgetful, and I've seen him do things around the stove that concern me. He can heat food, but he doesn't really know how to cook.

Perhaps convenience isn't entirely a choice for him anymore. Perhaps he needs some help.

That's worth remembering. Not everyone has the same abilities, resources or circumstances. People need kitchens, affordable groceries, time, energy and sometimes assistance.

Still, I wonder what we're losing when everyday skills become services we purchase instead of knowledge we pass along.

Cooking can mean independence. It can mean sharing a meal with a neighbour, making soup for someone who's ill, or inviting a friend to sit down and talk.

It can mean knowing how to take care of yourself without having to buy your way through every ordinary task.

We don't need to romanticise the past. Our parents had their own struggles, and not every family had enough to eat. But practical skills mattered, and many of us learned them because we had to.

What are we teaching the next generation?

How to prepare a meal, or how to order one?

dressed for the apocalypse

Walk around Vancouver and look at the lifestyle being sold to us.

The latest jogging clothes. The newest rain jacket. The expensive athletic wear. The gym membership. The smartphone. The delivery subscription.

People work from home, jog in technical clothing, order their groceries and meals, and keep their phones within reach at almost every moment of the day.

Some of these things are useful. Exercise is good for us. Technology can connect us. Working from home can improve people's lives. Vancouver needs rain gear.

I'm not suggesting we should all return to the Stone Age.

But what happens when every aspect of life becomes another opportunity to sell us something?

We sit for hours, then pay to exercise. We become exhausted, then purchase wellness products. We buy convenience because we're busy, and sometimes we're busy earning the money to pay for the convenience.

We are encouraged to optimise ourselves constantly.

Better clothes. Better bodies. Better homes. Better holidays. Better versions of ourselves.

And somewhere along the way, the simple business of being human can get lost.

Are we healthier? Are we happier? Are we more connected?

Or are we simply better dressed while trying to keep up?

hello kitty and the mountain of stuff

Here's the part that bothers me most.

Every object requires resources. Materials must be extracted, processed, manufactured, packaged and transported. Products take energy to make and fuel to move. Eventually, things break, become unwanted, or are replaced by the next new thing.

Some are kept and loved for years. Others spend a short time providing excitement before being forgotten.

And then what?

The drawer. The donation bin. The rubbish truck. The landfill.

Not everything is recyclable, and recycling itself doesn't make the environmental costs of production disappear.

The problem isn't Hello Kitty. It isn't even collecting.

The problem is an economic culture that depends on encouraging us to keep consuming.

Make more. Sell more. Buy more. Replace more.

And when the novelty wears off, start again.

Limited editions are particularly clever. They create urgency. People worry they'll miss out, so they buy now. Sometimes they buy multiples. Sometimes the pleasure lies less in using the object than in possessing something other people might not get.

We have turned wanting into a business model.

And the planet supplies the materials.

I like beautiful things. I'm an artist. I understand the pleasure of making something, owning something, or finding an object that speaks to you.

But there is a difference between creating something meaningful and manufacturing an endless succession of things designed to keep us buying.

We need to start asking whether the next thing we purchase will enrich our lives or simply occupy space.

when art becomes part of the sales pitch

This brings me to Vancouver's public art scene.

The Vancouver Mural Festival brought colour, creativity and attention to neighbourhood streets. Artists deserve opportunities, public art can be valuable, and murals can make an ordinary wall extraordinary.

But the festival also raised difficult questions about gentrification, development and who benefits when a neighbourhood becomes more attractive.

In 2016, the City of Vancouver provided a $200,000 matching grant for the festival through its Public Art Boost initiative.

At the same time, Mount Pleasant was changing. Housing costs and development pressures were affecting the people who had made the neighbourhood what it was.

Critics raised concerns about the relationship between public art, property values and the displacement of artists and long-time residents.

This is where the term artwashing enters the conversation.

Artwashing describes a concern that art and cultural activity can help give a neighbourhood an appealing identity while obscuring the social consequences of redevelopment.

It doesn't mean every artist is involved in some grand conspiracy. Artists may be working sincerely, creating beautiful things, and trying to make a living.

But good intentions don't eliminate the need to ask who benefits.

If a neighbourhood becomes more desirable because of its artists, its independent businesses, its street culture and its murals, what happens when rising rents force those very people out?

Who gets to keep the benefits?

Who gets the bill?

And who gets to stay?

The Vancouver Mural Festival announced its closure in January 2025, citing financial difficulties. Its history leaves us with questions about how public art is funded, how cultural organisations survive, and what happens when their financial models depend on sponsors and development activity.

Public art shouldn't have to justify itself solely by making an area more marketable.

It should be allowed to serve the people who live there.

who decides what art is worth?

Then there's the other side of the art world: the enormous amounts of money attached to certain artists, institutions and awards.

Douglas Coupland is a well-known Canadian novelist and visual artist whose work has explored consumer culture, technology and contemporary life.

His art can raise interesting questions about the very culture that produces mountains of consumer goods.

But I find myself wondering about the broader system in which art operates.

Who decides which artists receive major recognition? Who has access to wealthy patrons, prestigious institutions and substantial awards? Why can certain artworks command enormous attention and financial support while independent artists struggle to sell their paintings?

The Audain Prize, for example, awards $100,000 in recognition of an artist's career and contribution to visual art. It is not simply payment for producing one artwork.

There is nothing inherently wrong with recognising artists or supporting ambitious creative work.

But the contrast is striking when you look at the entire picture.

Some artists have access to established institutions and wealthy supporters. Others are trying to sell original paintings directly, hoping someone will appreciate their work enough to take one home.

Some artworks become cultural landmarks. Others never find a buyer.

And the value assigned to art doesn't always reflect the hours spent making it, the skill involved, or the meaning it holds for the person who created it.

Art is not merely a commodity, even though the art market can treat it like one.

I would like to see more room for art that serves communities, protects the environment, tells overlooked stories and brings people together.

And I would like to see independent artists have a fair chance to make a living.

Not every worthwhile thing needs to be expensive. Not everything valuable comes with a prestigious name attached.

Sometimes a small painting made with care means more to someone than an artwork worth a fortune.

the children are watching

What are our children learning from all of this?

They are growing up surrounded by advertising, online shopping, social media, constant notifications and an endless stream of things they are encouraged to want.

Many children also face real difficulties with mental health, social connection and the pressures of growing up in a digital world. Screens are not the only cause, and technology can provide genuine benefits. But we should be asking how we can give children a healthier balance.

Do they have opportunities to play outside, learn practical skills, build friendships and become comfortable with silence?

Do they learn how to cook, mend something, grow food, care for animals, or help a neighbour?

Do they understand where the things they own come from and where those things go when they are finished with them?

Do they know that their worth has nothing to do with the clothes they wear, the phone they carry, or the number of things they possess?

I worry that we are teaching children to become consumers before we teach them how to become capable, compassionate adults.

A phone can be a wonderful tool. A toy can bring joy. A beautiful jacket can keep someone warm and dry.

But none of these things can replace the experience of belonging to a community that cares whether you are all right.

the end is nigh

There's a fellow at Metrotown who regularly stands with a sign warning people to repent because the end is near.

I've often thought about walking beside him with a different message.

Not because I necessarily want to argue about religion, but because I think we have some urgent questions to ask ourselves.

If the end is nigh, what are we doing with the time we have?

Are we looking after our neighbours?

Are we protecting the natural world that sustains us?

Are we feeding hungry people and finding homes for those who have nowhere safe to sleep?

Are we passing useful knowledge to the next generation?

Are we making room for children to grow up without being told that happiness comes in a shopping bag?

I once told someone the story of a man caught in a flood who kept refusing rescue boats because he was waiting for God to save him. He eventually drowned, and when he asked God why he hadn't been rescued, God replied that he had sent two boats and a helicopter.

The point is simple: sometimes help arrives through ordinary people, and we fail to recognise it.

Perhaps the same principle applies to the world we are trying to save.

We keep waiting for someone else to fix things. Governments, corporations, wealthy philanthropists, new technologies, the next big idea.

Meanwhile, we have ordinary opportunities to make life better.

We can share food. Learn to cook. Repair things instead of replacing them. Buy less. Support local artists. Help someone who is struggling. Protect public spaces. Ask what happens to our rubbish. Demand that public investment benefits the people who need it.

None of those actions will solve every problem.

But they matter.

enough already

I don't hate Hello Kitty. I don't hate people who buy nice clothes, eat at restaurants, or collect things that make them happy.

I don't believe artists should work for nothing, or that all expensive art is pointless.

What I question is a culture that has made consumption such a central part of our lives that we can hardly imagine another way of living.

A world where a new product can generate excitement overnight, while a person sleeping outside becomes part of the background.

A world where we can turn neighbourhood character into a marketing strategy but struggle to protect the people who created that character.

A world where we can manufacture almost anything, but cannot seem to guarantee everyone a safe place to sleep, enough food to eat, and a reasonable chance at a decent life.

We have remarkable ingenuity. We have extraordinary creative talent. We have the ability to make things, grow food, share knowledge and solve difficult problems.

Surely we can do better than this.

Maybe we don't need another collectible. Maybe we need a little less stuff and a little more substance.

Maybe we need to put the phone down, cook a meal, invite someone over, repair the broken chair, learn a skill, plant a tree, and find out how our neighbours are doing.

Maybe we need to stop measuring success by how much we can afford to buy and start measuring it by how well we take care of one another.

Because the world doesn't need to be filled with more things simply because we have the capacity to manufacture them.

It needs people who understand the difference between wanting something and needing it.

People who can recognise beauty without needing to own it.

People who understand that a neighbourhood is more than its property values, a community is more than its branding, and a person's worth is more than their purchasing power.

And people who realise that we cannot shop our way out of every problem we have created.

So, yes.

Enough with the Hello Kitty already.

Not because a little cartoon cat is the enemy.

But because we have bigger things to worry about.

The end may or may not be nigh. But our time to start treating one another, our communities and our planet with greater care is already here.

#EnoughWithTheHelloKittyAlready #Consumerism #Overconsumption #Vancouver #Artwashing #Gentrification #LandfillWaste #SustainableLiving #IndependentArtists #PeopleOverProfit

 

vancouver needs housing, not more excuses: help support this petition

https://www.ourcommons.ca/petitions/en/Petition/Details?Petition=e-7775

Thousands of people in Vancouver are living without permanent housing. Some are sleeping outside, some are staying in shelters, and others are moving from one temporary place to another, never knowing where they will be safe next.

The Downtown Eastside is a community living with the consequences of a housing crisis that has gone on for far too long. Poverty, trauma, mental health challenges, addiction, discrimination and stigma cannot be addressed properly when people do not have a safe, stable place to live.

A petition has been presented calling on the House of Commons to take action. It needs public support.

what is this petition about?

This is a formal petition asking Canada's federal government to provide increased funding to British Columbia so the province can expand its Housing First program and create more permanent, appropriate housing for people experiencing homelessness.

Housing First means that people are helped into stable housing without having to first prove they are sober, overcome addiction or resolve every other difficulty in their lives. The principle is that having a safe place to live can provide the foundation for addressing other challenges.

People may also need ongoing mental health care, addiction services, medical care and practical support. Different people have different needs, and housing should reflect that.

what are they asking the federal government to do?

The petition calls for at least 3,500 additional housing units over five years, divided into three categories:

1,000 supportive housing units

Permanent homes with access to ongoing support services for people who need assistance to maintain their housing and improve their quality of life.

500 complex-care housing units

Housing for people with significant, overlapping needs who may require more intensive, coordinated health and social supports.

2,000 deeply affordable homes

Homes with rent subsidies so that eligible residents pay no more than one-third of their net monthly income toward rent.

These are not just numbers. They represent the possibility of a front door, a safe bed, a place to prepare food, privacy, dignity and an opportunity to rebuild a life.

why does federal funding matter?

Housing is expensive, and building thousands of homes requires sustained funding and cooperation between governments.

The petition asks the federal government to provide additional funding to British Columbia and its agencies, specifically prioritizing Housing First and the creation of these 3,500 homes.

The petition also refers to a May 2026 Superior Court ruling as a reason governments must take their housing obligations seriously. The ruling's precise implications should be checked against the court decision itself, but the broader demand is clear: governments must take meaningful action to address inadequate housing and discrimination.

how can you help?

• Read the petition. Understand what it asks for and who is organizing it.
• Sign it if you are eligible. Follow the petition's official instructions and provide any required information.
• Share it. Send the petition link to friends, family, community groups and anyone concerned about homelessness.
• Talk about it. Ask your elected representatives what they are doing to increase permanent housing and fund the supports people need.
• Keep following up. Real change requires more than promises. It requires funding, homes being built and people actually getting housed.

Please note that a formal House of Commons petition has specific signing and submission rules. Follow the instructions on the official petition page.

don't look away

People experiencing homelessness are not disposable. They are members of our communities, and they deserve safety, dignity and a place to call home.

We cannot keep treating homelessness as though it is an unavoidable feature of city life. Nor can we expect people to recover from trauma, illness or addiction while leaving them without the security of a home.

Three thousand five hundred homes would be a meaningful step. It would not solve every problem, but it would give thousands of people a better chance.

If you believe housing is a basic human need, help make this petition visible. Read it, sign it if eligible, share it and ask our governments to act.

A home is more than a roof. It is a foundation for living.

Petition e-7775: Vancouver homelessness and housing crisis

Sponsored by MP Jenny Kwan · Vancouver East

The petition opened on September 29, 2026, and is scheduled to close on January 27, 2027. 

The petition calls for federal funding for 3,500 housing units over five years. Follow the official page's eligibility and signing instructions.

 

By Bob Joseph

21 things to know about the Indian Act — and why your vote matters

In 1876, Canada passed the Indian Act. That same year, my great-great-grandparents were married.

Think about that for a moment.

While my ancestors were building their lives and families, Canada was putting legislation into place that would give the federal government sweeping control over First Nations identity, land, governance and many aspects of everyday life.

My family history is one of the reasons I keep researching the past. The dates on a family tree are not just dates. They sit within a much bigger story about the people who lived here, the laws imposed on them, and the generations who lived with the consequences.

The Indian Act was not simply a law about land. It became a tool of colonial control and assimilation. It interfered with Indigenous governance, discriminated against women, restricted cultural and spiritual practices, and helped establish a system in which the government determined who qualified as an “Indian” under Canadian law.

Here are 21 points from the sketchnote by @michael_tdsb, with some historical context.

21 things you may not know about the Indian Act

1. Denied women status

First Nations women faced sex discrimination under the Act. Before 1985, a First Nations woman who married a man without status generally lost her own status and her associated rights. Men did not face the same rule when marrying women without status.

2. Introduced residential schools

The Indian Act became part of the legislative framework used to impose residential schooling on First Nations children. Amendments in the late 19th and early 20th centuries strengthened compulsory attendance. The residential school system separated children from their families, communities, languages and cultures.

3. Created reserves

The Act established federal powers over reserve lands and their administration. Reserve lands had already been created through colonial policies and treaties, but the Indian Act consolidated government control over them.

4. Renamed individuals with European names

Indigenous people were subjected to colonial naming practices and record-keeping systems. European names appeared in church, government and school records, sometimes replacing or obscuring Indigenous names and family connections.

5. Restricted First Nations people from leaving reserves

The sketchnote refers to the pass system, which restricted First Nations people's movement off reserves in parts of western Canada. Importantly, the pass system was imposed by Indian Affairs officials without a clear statutory basis in the Indian Act itself.

6. Enforced enfranchisement

Enfranchisement meant losing legal Indian status in exchange for recognition as a Canadian citizen under the colonial system of the time. Some provisions made enfranchisement automatic for people who met specified qualifications, including certain university graduates. In some circumstances, a person's family also lost status.

7. Could expropriate portions of reserves

The Act gave the federal government powers to control reserve lands, including provisions allowing reserve lands to be surrendered, taken or otherwise dealt with under specified conditions.

8. Could lease uncultivated land

The legislation gave the government powers to administer and lease certain reserve lands, limiting the control First Nations communities had over their own territories.

9. Could not form political organizations

Amendments to the Act restricted First Nations political organizing. In particular, the 1927 amendment made it illegal to solicit funds to pursue Indigenous land claims without government permission.

10. Prohibited soliciting funds for legal claims

This restriction made it much harder for First Nations people to raise money to pursue land claims through the courts. It was removed in 1951.

11. Prohibited the sale of alcohol to First Nations people

The Act included restrictions on alcohol possession, sale and supply involving First Nations people. These restrictions were part of a wider system of discriminatory controls.

12. Prohibited the sale of guns and ammunition

The sketchnote identifies restrictions concerning firearms and ammunition. The precise legal provisions and their scope changed over time, so this point should not be read as a single, unchanging prohibition applying identically to every First Nations person throughout the Act's history.

13. Restricted access to pool halls

The legislation included restrictions on First Nations people's access to pool rooms and similar establishments. These were among the discriminatory controls that were later removed.

14. Imposed the band council system

The Indian Act imposed a system of elected chiefs and councils under federal rules. This undermined the authority of many traditional Indigenous governance systems and placed decision-making under government control.

15. Indigenous languages were suppressed

The Act itself did not impose one universal ban on speaking Indigenous languages in every setting. However, the residential school system and other government policies punished and suppressed Indigenous languages, causing profound cultural and intergenerational harm.

16. Restricted traditional religion

The Act was amended to prohibit certain Indigenous ceremonies and spiritual practices, including the potlatch and other ceremonies. These laws attacked the ability of communities to practise and pass on their traditions.

17. Restricted cultural clothing and regalia

Restrictions on ceremonies and cultural gatherings also interfered with the wearing of regalia and the expression of Indigenous identity. The precise restrictions varied over time and by practice.

18. Made cultural ceremonies illegal

The potlatch was banned in 1884. Later amendments expanded restrictions on Indigenous ceremonies, dances and gatherings. These laws were used to suppress cultural practices and community life.

19. Denied voting rights

This point deserves special attention.

The Indian Act of 1876 tied the right to vote to enfranchisement for First Nations people in the federal system: in general, they had to give up their Indian status to obtain the vote under that framework. Other provincial voting restrictions also applied, including in British Columbia.

In 1960, First Nations people gained the unconditional right to vote in federal elections without having to surrender their status. First Nations women had also been excluded from voting in band council elections under the Act until 1951.

Think about what that means. People whose families had lived on this land for generations were denied equal political rights in the country governing their lives.

20. Created a permit system

The sketchnote refers to the permit system used to control certain activities and movements involving First Nations people. The historical pass system and other administrative controls restricted autonomy, trade and everyday life. The exact rules varied by time and place.

21. Created under British colonial rule to subordinate Indigenous peoples

The Indian Act was enacted by the Canadian Parliament in 1876, within the colonial system inherited from British rule. Its policies were directed toward assimilation and increasing federal control over First Nations people, their lands and their governance.

These 21 points are a starting place, not the whole story. The Act changed repeatedly, and its effects were not identical for every First Nation or every generation. But its history helps explain why Indigenous rights, land, culture, governance and self-determination remain so important today.

-----

 

animal farm: a more humane ending

Imagine a different beginning to the revolution.

The animals are hungry. The farm is falling apart. Mr. Jones is drinking, losing his temper, and neglecting his responsibilities.

The animals are frightened, and something has to change.

But this time, instead of waiting for everything to explode, somebody notices.

An animal welfare worker arrives at the farm. The animals are examined, fed, and moved somewhere safe. Nobody tells them they must remain in a dangerous situation because the farmer has problems of his own.

Meanwhile, somebody looks at Mr. Jones.

When did things start going wrong? Is he suffering from depression? Has he experienced a brain injury? Is his drinking out of control? Does he need medical attention, addiction treatment, counselling, or help managing his anger?

Nobody assumes they know the answer before asking the questions.

Mr. Jones is held accountable for neglecting the animals. He cannot simply promise to do better and be handed the keys to the farm again. His circumstances are assessed, and any return to responsibility depends on whether it can be done safely.

Perhaps he receives treatment. Perhaps he needs supervised support. Perhaps he cannot live independently or care for animals anymore.

Perhaps, as somebody once joked, Mr. Jones needs rehoming.

The animals find a safe home where they can live without hunger or fear. The farmer finds somewhere he can receive the support he needs.

Nobody has to suffer just to prove a point.

And the farm?

The farm is managed by people who understand that caring for living beings is a responsibility, not a privilege that comes with owning property.

There is no glorious revolution. No new dictator. No grand speech about the future.

Just a community recognizing a problem and doing the work required to put it right.

Perhaps that isn't the ending Orwell intended.

But it might be the beginning of a more humane world.

 Content warning: Discussion of murder, childhood trauma, abuse, and neglect.

the bigger picture: what happens when we stop protecting human beings?

We know what cruelty does to people. We know what happens when children grow up without love, safety, or stability. We know what poverty, violence, institutional abuse, and neglect can do across generations. So why do we keep repeating the same mistakes?

I have been thinking about Charles Manson.

I read Helter Skelter when I was young, and one thing has stayed with me: the idea behind his words, “You made me.”

Manson was a murderer who manipulated others into committing horrific crimes. Whatever happened during his childhood, he was responsible for his actions. But his story also raises uncomfortable questions about how people become capable of such cruelty, how vulnerable people can be manipulated, and how society responds to the damage it helps create.

Manson wasn't the only one. There was Robert Pickton here in British Columbia, Clifford Olson, Ted Bundy, and countless other violent offenders whose names we remember long after their victims have been forgotten.

Why do we keep looking at these cases as isolated monsters? Why aren't we also examining the conditions, warning signs, institutional failures, and missed opportunities that might have prevented some of the suffering?

We cannot explain every violent crime through childhood trauma. Many people survive terrible childhoods without harming others, and not every cruel person has a history of abuse. But we know that childhood adversity can have lasting consequences, and we know that violence, neglect, and dehumanization can be passed from one generation to the next.

So what are we doing to interrupt that cycle?

the children we hurt

Canada took Indigenous children from their families and placed them in residential schools, where many experienced physical, emotional, and sexual abuse. Children were separated from their languages, cultures, communities, and the people who loved them.

The United States operated Indigenous boarding schools with similar objectives.

Enslavement, racial segregation, forced displacement, and other systems of oppression have also inflicted suffering that extends beyond the people who directly experienced them.

These were not simply unfortunate events. They were systems created and maintained by people and institutions.

Children who experience severe trauma may struggle with trust, emotional regulation, relationships, and a sense of safety. Their families and communities may carry the consequences for generations.

That does not mean survivors are broken, or that trauma determines anyone's future. Indigenous communities have demonstrated extraordinary resilience, preserving culture, rebuilding connections, and protecting future generations despite attempts to destroy those bonds.

But resilience should never become an excuse to keep putting people through suffering.

We should be preventing harm, not congratulating people for surviving it.

and now, the children of today

Look at children separated from their parents through immigration enforcement. Look at children living through war in the Middle East. Look at children who have lost their homes, their families, their schools, and any reasonable sense of security.

What happens to a child who grows up believing the world is dangerous, that adults cannot be trusted, and that nobody will come to help?

We cannot predict what that child will become. Many will grow into loving, compassionate adults. Others may struggle with the consequences of what they have endured.

But why are we so willing to expose children to terrible conditions and so surprised when the consequences follow them into adulthood?

We know that safety matters. We know that love matters. We know that children need stable relationships, food, shelter, education, and protection from violence.

Knowing these things should mean something.

what about the people who are almost homeless?

This is where the bigger picture becomes personal.

Imagine being one paycheque away from losing your home. Imagine having a disability, a history of trauma, or simply not earning enough to afford rent.

Now imagine your choices are a shelter where you may not feel safe, or sleeping outside, where you may face theft, assault, sexual violence, exposure, or even murder.

Not everyone experiences these dangers, and shelters differ in their safety and quality. But these are real risks that people experiencing homelessness can face.

Where is the logic in waiting until someone is desperate, traumatized, assaulted, or seriously ill before we decide they need help?

A person should not have to surrender their privacy, dignity, independence, or sense of safety simply to have a roof over their head.

And homelessness does not affect only human beings.

People with dogs and cats can find themselves trapped between keeping their animals and finding somewhere to sleep. Some shelters cannot accommodate pets. Some landlords prohibit them. Some people remain in unsafe situations because they cannot bear to abandon an animal that depends on them.

Then the animals themselves become homeless.

We talk about responsible pet ownership, but what happens when a responsible owner loses their housing through circumstances beyond their control?

We cannot keep treating housing as though it is a privilege that people must continually prove they deserve.

A home is the foundation from which people rebuild their lives.

millions for some things, nowhere to live for others

We can mobilize enormous sums of money to transport captive belugas across the continent, build specialized facilities, and provide intensive veterinary care. We can raise money for animals, fund cultural institutions, build expensive developments, and spend billions on projects that governments and private interests consider important.

Some of these expenditures serve legitimate purposes. Animal welfare matters. Art and culture matter. Scientific research matters.

This is not an argument against saving belugas, caring for dogs and cats, or supporting the arts.

It is a question about priorities.

How can we recognize that an animal deserves specialized care while accepting that a human being may have nowhere safe to sleep?

Why can we organize complex international transfers of animals but struggle to ensure that people have access to affordable housing and basic support?

We should be capable of caring for both.

The issue is not that we care too much about animals. It is that our compassion and our resources are not distributed according to the basic needs of living beings.

And when people lose their homes, the consequences can reach far beyond the immediate crisis.

A person who becomes homeless may lose their possessions, their community, their employment, their health, and their ability to feel safe. Trauma accumulates. Opportunities disappear. The longer the crisis continues, the harder it can become to recover.

Then society looks at the person struggling on the street and asks why they cannot get their life together.

Perhaps we should first ask what happened to the life they had.

when cruelty becomes normal

This brings us back to Manson, and to the politicians and powerful people whose behaviour makes us question how much empathy they possess.

We should not diagnose people from a distance or assume that their childhoods explain everything they do. But we can examine their actions.

Do they humiliate vulnerable people? Do they encourage hatred? Do they accept responsibility when their decisions cause harm? Do they use their power to protect people, or to make others afraid?

A society teaches its values through what it rewards, what it punishes, and what it permits.

When children learn that power means domination, when adults learn that cruelty brings rewards, and when institutions repeatedly fail vulnerable people without meaningful accountability, we should not be surprised when those patterns continue.

This does not mean everyone becomes violent. It means we are failing to address conditions that can make suffering, exploitation, and dehumanization more likely.

We cannot excuse an offender by blaming society for everything. But neither should we pretend that individual crimes exist in a vacuum.

Personal responsibility and social responsibility can exist together.

We can hold people accountable for the harm they cause while also asking what could have prevented that harm in the first place.

the bigger picture

We live in a world where children are traumatized, families are separated, Indigenous communities continue to deal with the consequences of colonial policies, people are displaced by war, and others are pushed out of their homes by poverty.

We spend enormous amounts responding to crises after they happen.

But prevention rarely receives the same urgency.

Protecting children, supporting families, providing stable housing, addressing abuse, making mental health care accessible, and intervening before people reach a breaking point are not merely acts of kindness. They are investments in the future of our communities.

None of these measures will eliminate every violent crime, every tragedy, or every instance of human cruelty. There are no guarantees.

But we already know that neglect has consequences. We know that unsafe environments cause suffering. We know that children need protection and that people need somewhere safe to live.

What are we waiting for?

I don't believe we need to choose between helping a beluga and helping a homeless person. I don't believe compassion should be rationed according to whether someone is cute, wealthy, productive, popular, or politically convenient.

I believe we should be asking why we have the resources to do extraordinary things while so many basic human needs remain unmet.

And I believe we need to stop looking at every tragedy as though it has nothing to do with the world we have built around it.

When another child is abused, another family is displaced, another vulnerable woman disappears, or another person dies without a home, we should ask more than who is responsible for that individual tragedy.

We should ask what failed, what could have been different, and what we are prepared to change.

Because the bigger picture is not simply about serial killers, residential schools, immigration detention, war, or homelessness.

It is about the kind of society we are creating, one generation at a time.

We cannot keep hurting people, neglecting children, abandoning the vulnerable, and then wondering why the world is full of suffering.

If we want a different future, we have to start building it now.

Not after another generation has been damaged.

Not after another life has been lost.

Now.

---

Written by Tina Winterlik, aka Zipolita

I write about people, places, and things because the stories we tell about our world matter. Sometimes the most important question is not whether we can afford to help, but why we have accepted a world in which so many people need help and cannot find it.

 

who funds vancouver’s art world—and who benefits?

Following the money behind Vancouver’s art galleries, public installations, private foundations, and real-estate wealth.

There is a real story here, and it goes beyond paintings hanging on gallery walls or sculptures appearing in public spaces. It is about money, influence, philanthropy, property development, and who gets to decide what Vancouver’s cultural legacy will look like.

I started looking at the Vancouver Biennale, the Audain Foundation, the Polygon Gallery, and the Vancouver Art Gallery. What emerges is a network of private wealth, real-estate companies, corporate sponsorships, government grants, charitable foundations, and public cultural institutions.

Art is often presented as something that belongs to everyone. But who pays for it? Who decides which artists and projects receive support? And what do we, the public, actually know about the financial arrangements behind these institutions?

the michael audain connection

Michael Audain built his fortune through real-estate development, joining Polygon Homes in 1980. His philanthropic activities have also made him a significant figure in British Columbia’s art world.

The Audain Foundation reported approximately $423.3 million in assets and $30.7 million in revenue for the fiscal year ending June 30, 2024. Its reported revenue included investment income and donations, while its grants supported other charitable organizations, including major cultural institutions.

The foundation reported distributing approximately $18.9 million in grants to 37 qualified donees that year.

Those are substantial sums. They raise legitimate questions about the role private wealth plays in determining which cultural institutions thrive, which projects receive funding, and whose vision of art and history receives public recognition.

This is not an accusation of wrongdoing. It is a reason to look more closely at how cultural philanthropy works, where its money originates, and how its priorities are established.

the biennale: public art and private money

The Vancouver Biennale brings large-scale art into public spaces. Its stated funding sources include government grants, corporate sponsorships, donations, in-kind contributions, and proceeds from art sales.

Its listed supporters have included the Province of British Columbia, the Canada Council for the Arts, RBC Foundation, and Buschlen Mowatt Nichol Foundation.

The Biennale’s 2024 charity financial information, as summarized by Charity Breakdown, reported approximately $38,000 in revenue against $391,181 in expenditures, with year-end assets of about $2.9 million.

The figures suggest the organization spent considerably more than it received in reported revenue that fiscal year, drawing on existing resources. That is not evidence of misconduct, but it does invite questions about reserves, funding arrangements, and long-term sustainability.

How much support comes from taxpayers? How much comes from private donors? What portion is cash, and what portion consists of donated services, materials, or other in-kind contributions?

And how are decisions made about which artists and installations receive that support?

Public art can enrich a city. The public should also be able to understand how the organizations responsible for it are funded.

follow the sponsors

The Polygon Gallery’s 2024 annual report identifies Polygon Homes and Quay North Urban Development among its presenting sponsors. The report also describes support from the Audain Foundation and the growth of the gallery’s endowment.

The Vancouver Art Gallery Foundation, meanwhile, lists the Audain Foundation and Michael J. Audain and Yoshiko Karasawa among its supporters. Its annual reporting acknowledges contributions from individuals, corporations, foundations, and government partners.

These connections are documented in the institutions’ own published materials.

They provide a starting point for understanding how Vancouver’s cultural organizations rely on a combination of private philanthropy, corporate sponsorship, investment funds, and public support.

The next step is to examine the details: how much each organization receives, what restrictions apply to the money, whether gifts are designated for particular projects, and how funding decisions affect programming and institutional priorities.

A donor does not automatically control an institution simply because they make a large contribution. But significant donations can shape what becomes possible, which projects are funded, and what receives attention.

That influence deserves public discussion.

philanthropy, tax benefits, and the bigger picture

Charitable donations can qualify for tax credits or deductions, depending on the donor, the type of gift, and the applicable tax rules. Private foundations also operate under specific charitable and regulatory requirements.

However, there is an important distinction between a foundation’s assets, the grants it distributes, and an individual donor’s personal tax savings. These are not interchangeable figures.

To understand the financial picture, we need to examine the actual filings, the legal structures involved, and the applicable tax rules rather than assume that every donated dollar produces a particular tax benefit.

There is still a worthwhile question to ask: how does the charitable system balance public benefit with the priorities of wealthy donors?

A museum might receive millions for a building, an acquisition, or an endowment while community artists struggle to pay rent, buy supplies, find exhibition space, or make a living from their work.

Both forms of cultural activity matter. But are the resources distributed in a way that supports the wider artistic community, or do the largest institutions naturally attract the greatest share of attention and funding?

That is worth investigating.

and what about housing?

This is where the conversation becomes particularly relevant to Vancouver.

When significant cultural donors also have substantial real-estate interests, it is reasonable to examine their business activities alongside their philanthropy.

Vancouver’s housing crisis did not arise from one individual or one company. It involves decades of policy decisions, land values, investment, development, supply, speculation, and broader economic forces.

But we can ask how property wealth is accumulated, how it is reinvested, and how philanthropic contributions fit into the public image and civic influence of wealthy businesspeople.

We can also ask whether the city’s priorities reflect the needs of ordinary residents.

A sculpture in a public plaza can be a gift to a community. A gallery can preserve art and provide meaningful public programming. A foundation can support artists and cultural institutions.

At the same time, Vancouver has people without secure housing, artists who cannot afford studio space, and residents who find themselves increasingly excluded from the city they helped build.

Can we celebrate cultural philanthropy while asking harder questions about the economic conditions surrounding it?

Of course we can.

whose cultural legacy are we building?

The Canada Revenue Agency provides public information about registered charities, including financial reporting and details of their activities. Annual reports, donor acknowledgements, corporate records, and government grant announcements offer additional ways to trace the flow of money.

Together, these records can help us investigate:

• Who provides the funding: wealthy individuals, developers, corporations, private foundations, governments, and public agencies.
• Who receives it: galleries, museums, public-art projects, art prizes, and other charitable organizations.
• What the funding supports: buildings, acquisitions, exhibitions, artist programs, endowments, and public installations.
• What tax rules apply: and what can actually be established about the financial benefits to donors.
• What remains underfunded: particularly independent artists, smaller cultural organizations, and communities whose histories and creative work receive less institutional attention.

This is not about suggesting that every donation has a hidden motive or that wealthy people should not support the arts. Private philanthropy can provide real and lasting public benefits.

It is about transparency, accountability, and the relationship between wealth and influence.

Vancouver’s art world does not exist separately from the city’s economic reality. The people and organizations with the greatest financial resources often have the greatest capacity to build institutions, fund projects, and shape the stories future generations will encounter.

Meanwhile, artists without wealthy benefactors must find their own way to survive and create.

Who gets to shape Vancouver’s cultural legacy—and whose needs remain unfunded while that legacy is being built?

That is the story I want to explore.

Not to dismiss the art, but to look beyond the gallery walls and follow the money.

sources to explore

• Vancouver Biennale — The organization and its funding and sponsors
• Audain Foundation — Financial information summarized by Charity Breakdown
• Polygon Gallery — 2024 annual report
• Vancouver Art Gallery — Foundation and supporters and 2024–25 annual report
• Canada Revenue Agency — Charities and giving

Note: Financial figures above are for the specific fiscal years identified, not current balances. The questions raised here are avenues for public-interest investigation, not allegations of financial wrongdoing.

 

2050: ten years after the last human

A story about the world that carried on.

FADE IN:

EXT. VANCOUVER, BRITISH COLUMBIA — DAWN — 2050

Rain falls on an empty city.

It has been raining for three days.

Nobody complains.

The traffic lights still hang over the intersection at Broadway and Granville, their faded lenses dark. A maple tree grows through a crack in the pavement. Its branches reach toward the windows of a building where hundreds of people once worked, hurried, argued, fell in love and worried about tomorrow.

Tomorrow came.

Nobody was there to see it.

Ten years ago, the last human being died.

There was no announcement. No final broadcast watched by billions. No gathering of world leaders. There was only an old woman in a small house, a cup of cold tea on the table, and rain tapping against the window.

She had outlived everyone she knew.

Her name was never recorded in the history books because there was nobody left to write them.

When her heart stopped, the human story ended.

The world did not notice.

CUT TO:

EXT. DOWNTOWN VANCOUVER — MORNING

A raven lands on the roof of a parked car.

It looks down at the street.

Once, this place was filled with engines, horns, impatient pedestrians and people staring at little glowing screens. Now, moss spreads between the paving stones. A bus sits crooked against a curb, its windows broken by falling branches. A wall of ivy covers the entrance to a bank.

Inside, paper money lies scattered across the floor.

A few bills have blown through an open doorway and lodged beneath a fern.

Outside, a black bear crosses the intersection.

It pauses beside a bicycle.

Sniffs it.

Moves on.

The bear has never needed money. It has never wondered whether it belongs in this neighbourhood. It has never been told that the land beneath its feet is worth more than it could ever afford.

EXT. STANLEY PARK — LATER

The seawall has begun to crumble.

The ocean has claimed sections of the path, and winter storms have scattered timber across the shore. Trees lean over the water. Their roots have lifted sections of concrete.

A family of raccoons searches through the remains of a picnic shelter.

Beyond them, an eagle circles above the water.

Below the surface, salmon move through the current. The water is not pristine. Human-made chemicals remain in the environment, and plastic still collects in quiet places. Some of the damage will outlast the people who caused it.

But the water moves.

The salmon swim.

Life has not returned to an earlier version of the world. It has continued from the world humans left behind.

CUT TO:

INT. FORMER SCIENCE LABORATORY — DAY

Dust covers the instruments.

A computer screen is black. Shelves hold samples, notebooks and carefully labelled containers. A whiteboard still carries equations that nobody will ever finish.

A calendar on the wall reads DECEMBER 2040.

The building's backup power failed years ago.

Outside, a vine has entered through a broken window and wound itself around a metal cabinet.

There are no scientists here to interpret what happens next.

No one is monitoring the atmosphere. No one is counting the whales. No one is measuring the gradual return of certain species to abandoned habitats.

The knowledge has not all vanished. Books remain in libraries. Data sits on servers that may never power on again. Some records have been lost to fire, flooding, corrosion and time.

The universe does not keep a library for its own sake.

Knowledge survives only when something carries it forward.

EXT. A FORMER SUBURBAN NEIGHBOURHOOD — AFTERNOON

A deer steps through a garden gate.

The lawn is knee-high with grass. Apple trees bend beneath the weight of fruit. The swimming pool next door is green with algae.

A dog lies in the shade of a porch.

It is one of the last domestic animals descended from the companions humans once took into their homes. Its coat is tangled. It is thin, but alive. It drinks rainwater from a flowerpot.

A second dog appears between the houses.

They watch each other.

Then the first dog rises and follows the other down the street.

The houses stand open. Some have collapsed. Others remain almost intact, their kitchens still holding plates and cups, their bedrooms still containing photographs of people who believed they had plenty of time.

In one photograph, a family stands before a Christmas tree.

A child is missing a front tooth. A woman laughs at something outside the frame. An older man has his arm around someone whose name is no longer known.

The photograph fades in the sunlight.

Nobody will ever ask who they were.

CUT TO:

EXT. THE AMAZON — YEARS LATER

The forest grows over abandoned roads.

Roots split bridges. Vines climb radio towers. Rain washes soil into empty buildings. In places where forests were cut down, regrowth begins, although some damaged soils and ecosystems will take centuries to recover, if they recover at all.

In other places, the damage is permanent.

Species that disappeared with the human era do not return.

There are no more industrial fishing fleets crossing the oceans. No more tankers moving oil between continents. No more chainsaws cutting into old forests.

But neither are there people planting trees, restoring wetlands or protecting endangered animals.

The world without humans is not automatically a paradise.

Some animals starve. Some populations grow too large and then decline. Disease moves through herds. Fires burn through dry forests. Storms destroy coastlines.

Nature has never promised kindness.

It has only continued.

CUT TO:

EXT. FORMER NEW YORK CITY — SUNSET — 2050

Ten years have passed.

The skyline remains, but it is changing.

Some towers have lost their windows. Water has entered underground stations. Roads have disappeared beneath vegetation. A tree grows through the floor of an abandoned apartment, its branches reaching toward the light.

Pigeons nest in a courthouse.

A fox crosses the steps of a building where people once argued about justice.

Above it all, the sky turns orange.

No one is watching the sunset through a phone.

No one is posting photographs.

No one is asking how many people have seen it.

For the first time in thousands of years, the sunset has no human audience.

And yet it is beautiful.

INT. AN ABANDONED SCHOOL — DUSK

Rain drips through the roof.

On the classroom wall, a faded poster reads:

OUR FUTURE IS IN OUR HANDS.

Beneath it, small desks stand in uneven rows.

A child's drawing remains taped to a cupboard. It shows a blue Earth surrounded by green trees, smiling people and animals.

The paper has yellowed.

A mouse slips beneath a desk.

Wind moves through the broken windows, lifting the corner of the drawing.

It falls to the floor.

Outside, a tree has grown beside the playground. Its roots have pushed the fence aside. Birds settle among its branches as the last light fades.

The school stands empty.

The future arrived.

FADE OUT.

TEN YEARS AFTER THE LAST HUMAN

There is no final voice-over. No narrator to explain the lesson. No audience within the story to applaud.

There is only wind through the trees, water moving over stone, wings beating in the dusk, and the quiet persistence of life.

The monuments humans built to celebrate their greatness will eventually crumble. The borders they drew will fade from maps. The fortunes they accumulated will become meaningless. Their arguments will no longer disturb the night.

Some traces of humanity will remain for thousands of years. Others will vanish much sooner than anyone expected.

And somewhere, perhaps, an animal will find shelter inside a building designed for a purpose it cannot understand.

It will not know that humans once called themselves the most intelligent species on Earth.

It will not know about their wars, their religions, their inventions or their dreams.

It will know only that the building provides shelter from the rain.

And that will be enough.

THE END.

remember when being decent mattered

 

i remember when being decent mattered

Remember when kindness was a strength, not something people mistook for weakness?

I remember a time before Donald Trump started campaigning for president, when the world felt different. Not perfect. We had racism, violence, poverty, war and inequality long before Trump came along. I remember those things, too.

But something has changed.

Over the past decade, I have watched public conversations become increasingly rude, aggressive and hostile. Things that once might have caused public outrage are now shrugged off as just another day in politics. Insults become entertainment. Cruelty becomes a punchline. Racism gets defended as an opinion, and treating other people with basic respect somehow becomes a political statement.

I keep wondering how we got here.

When did being loud become more important than being thoughtful? When did humiliating another person become a show of strength? When did wealth and power start giving people the impression that ordinary rules no longer apply to them?

And what are we teaching our children?

Kids growing up today may not remember a world before this became so commonplace. They see politicians insulting people, wealthy individuals behaving as though they are entitled to everything, and public figures rewarded with attention for saying the most outrageous things. If that is what they see every day, how are they supposed to know that things can be different?

I remember when people could disagree without every disagreement becoming a war. I remember when you could have a conversation with someone who saw the world differently without necessarily treating them as an enemy. We didn't all agree, and we certainly weren't all kind, but there was still a sense that how you treated other people mattered.

At least, that is how I remember it.

Perhaps that is why this change feels so unsettling. It isn't simply about one politician or one country. It is about the example set by people who hold influence, and the way their behaviour can spread into everyday life.

When leaders repeatedly demean others, people can begin to see that behaviour as acceptable. When the wealthy appear insulated from consequences while ordinary people struggle to afford housing, food and the necessities of life, resentment grows. When people are divided into enemies and allies, compassion can disappear beneath the noise.

Donald Trump did not invent racism, greed, inequality or cruelty. Those things have been with us for centuries. But his rise to political power helped bring a particular style of aggressive, insulting and divisive behaviour into the centre of public life. His supporters may see his approach as speaking plainly or fighting an establishment they distrust. Others see it as normalizing conduct that damages public trust and encourages hostility.

We can acknowledge those differences without pretending that words and actions have no consequences.

And the disparity between rich and poor matters. There is something deeply wrong with a society in which some people accumulate fortunes beyond anything they could reasonably need, while others cannot find a safe, affordable place to live. Wealth does not make someone more deserving of dignity, and poverty does not make anyone less worthy of it.

I have spent a great deal of time thinking about homelessness, inequality, the environment and the way we treat one another. These are not separate issues. They all ask us the same question: what kind of society are we building, and who gets left behind?

I don't want children to grow up believing that cruelty is confidence, that prejudice is courage, or that having money makes someone better than everyone else.

I want them to know that there is strength in kindness. There is courage in standing up for someone being mistreated. There is dignity in admitting when we are wrong. And there is nothing weak about treating another human being with respect.

We don't need to pretend the past was a golden age. Many people were excluded, silenced and mistreated, and their experiences deserve to be remembered honestly. But we can still recognize that the way we speak to one another, the behaviour we reward and the people we choose to honour all shape the world we leave behind.

Maybe that is what troubles me most about these strange times. We have extraordinary technology, more access to information than any generation before us, and the ability to communicate across the globe in seconds. Yet we seem to be struggling with some very basic questions about empathy, responsibility and fairness.

We can do better than this.

Being decent should not be controversial. Kindness should not be political. And no amount of wealth, fame or power should put anyone above the responsibility to treat others humanely.

I remember when I believed those things were understood by more people.

I want the next generation to know they are still worth believing in.

Because the world doesn't become better simply because time passes. It becomes better when we decide that some things are worth standing up for.

And decency is one of them.

— Tina Winterlik aka Zipolita

I blog about nouns — people, places and things; even when negative I try to put a positive spin on it.

HumanDecency #KindnessMatters #SocialChange #PoliticalCulture #WealthInequality #Racism #Empathy #FutureGenerations #HumanRights #ChooseCompassion