Andrew Jamieson is an enigma. A longtime fixture in the Montreal underground scene, Jamieson carries himself with the confidence of a person who has been institutionalized more than three times, and has been called “an ageless vampire,” “a time-travelling Victorian celebrity,” and “like Andy Warhol, if he were a piece of shit.” Jamieson is shockingly prolific, though his career remains shrouded in the appropriate mystery: his shadowy past hints at some permutation of child stardom, semi-professional athletics, a rigid performing arts education in what he calls “classically-trained antagonism,” and a tendency to throw legendary parties which end up chronicled in important works of Canadian literature, and which may or may not have been a ruse to involve an unsuspecting public in large-scale installation art pieces. In a career full of interesting work, his most interesting continues to be what can only sort of be described as “theatre and performing arts” — reality-bending and genre-confounding immersive and participatory happenings which always manage to take place in corners of the Montreal environment which are as unconventional as they are iconic. These happenings directly confront, on a philosophical level, the conventions of contemporary arts society (along with the performance-and-publication series THISISNOTASAFESPACE, which occupied, among other places, the main lobby of The Bay and the SPVM headquarters’ parking lot) as well as the space between performer and audience (as with “theatrical” “productions” like Lethal & Young, Who’s Afraid, and the forthcoming MONUMENTUM)
-Written by Tara McGowan-Ross, urban L’nu multidisciplinary artist and writer
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What hood are you in?
Since moving to Montreal, I’ve lived in a few neighbourhoods, but I always return to where I am right now, which is the heart of the Plateau. We’re talking a tight radius around Saint Laurent and des Pins. I love this place. I grew up in mostly metropolitan areas, and before living in Montreal, I was in Toronto. Deep 6ix, too, in the core. But when I got here, I immediately gravitated toward the Plateau. While there are fewer galleries and venues than when I got here, this neighbourhood is layered with art history. I’ve met so many artists, just a bit older than me, who made the Plateau home, who created wild shit here. An event series I curate, On The Boulevard, was based on the work of exactly that: a Plateau artist from a previous generation for whom I’ve got the utmost respect for, who produced a series called (wait for it) Off The Boulevard. And this neighbourhood is filled with them. Artists. Creators. Of every age and background. This city is ripe with art and performance. Every night of the week, you can head to any borough and catch phenomenal live music, comedy, theatre, or an exhibition, maybe some weird performance art. And those artists live here, on the Plateau. I mean, not all of them, but so many of them, do you know? When you walk down the streets of this neighbourhood, if you look at the faces you pass, those might be people whose album you’ve heard, or film you’ve watched. And if you live here, you never know who your neighbour might be. The Plateau is the small town I never got the chance to experience. Really, it’s the familial community I couldn’t do without, at this point.
What do you do?
My creative output is excessively diverse. I mean, I do many things. This past year, I’ve designed masks for a dance production, completed four long-winded essays, and developed several scripts. I led a script workshop for MONUMENTUM, my latest immersive creation, and collaborated with a group of wildly talented artists. I’ve performed comedy, music, and spoken word, produced and hosted over twenty events, and provided mentorship to emerging event producers in the city. Through my role as Editor-in-Chief of Forget The Box, I guide writers of all levels. I also serve as Creative Director, designing and maintaining the website, and all graphics and media, while focusing the objective of the publication itself, which spotlights ground-level, underground, and marginalized art in Montreal. Shout out to our editorial team, too. Without Candice (Managing Editor) and Dawn (Editor-at-Large), FTB likely wouldn’t exist. I also contribute regularly to the magazine, with recent work including an analysis of local theatre organizations and the unsustainability of long-term Artistic Directors.
One particular point of recent pride was my collaboration with musicians Sophie Lane and Esteban Montana. I’ve got an extensive musical theatre background, and I wanted to show off my voice somewhere other than karaoke, so I produced Andrew Jamieson’s B-Side, a musical revue, a curated selection of my favourite songs, at The Wiggle Room. I was beyond thrilled to return to that stage. I sang fun songs and sad songs, and Sophie and I harmonized the fuck out of a couple duets. People were crying and laughing, and puking. It was better than Cats.
My core practice, though, revolves around large-scale immersive performance art productions. These pieces are designed to create discrete, distinct, fictional universes, adjacent to our own, that guests will experience as multidisciplinary, immersive, interactive events. A few months ago, I published a manifesto, so to speak, of my “Immersive Strategies”, describing their use and their implication in both my previous show, Who’s Afraid, and my current production MONUMENTUM.
I operate within a Metamodernist framework. This informs my artistic practice in many ways, one of which is emphasizing the interplay between sincerity and irony. What else does it mean, though? Nothing. Everything, actually. If you really want to know, it means you shouldn’t trust a word I say. I’m an unreliable narrator. But if you really want to know more about Metamodernism, and how it can fuck up YOUR artistic practice, you’re free to DM me on any social media platform. Except OnlyFans. That’s not actually me. I wish it were. Anyway, Metamodernism is fucking nuts, and if you try to understand it without the right guidance, your brain will turn to oatmeal.
So, I do a lot of things, and I make some sick art. You should check out my website. My friend Tara, whose bio of mine you read above (and whose memoir you should definitely read), refers to my website as a “Montreal Art Time Capsule”, and really, she’s right.
What are you currently working on?
I just finished a really sexy essay about Alexander the Great, and I’m in the midst of funding endeavours for MONUMENTUM. On the latter, I’ve finally finished the first draft of the entire script, and I’m preparing for a new workshop with performers. I’ve begun a mapping stage, because everything is quite detailed, choreographed. If I can get my hands on some LEGOs, that would be ideal. I’ve also got a few side projects in development, because I’m always telling some story in some timeline. A few of those stories are screenplays, and one of them is a theatre piece. My primary focus, though, is MONUMENTUM, bringing this piece to life.
Forget The Box, of course, is also very important. Serving dual roles (temporarily), this obviously takes a lot of my time and attention… and money. But, FTB is finally about to incorporate as a not-for-profit, which is a huge step for the publication. We’ve been able to accomplish so much with nothing, but for us to reach the goals we have, we’re going to need grant money and donations from people who want to see free and fair arts coverage continue.
Oh, and for fans old and new, On The Boulevard returned in April.
I’ve been pursuing a few other personal endeavours lately. I’d like to return to the stage, to acting, so I’ll be auditioning for some of the fantastic local Anglo theatre projects Montreal continually offers.
I’m working on another not-for-profit called Espace Unité, which is a membership-based rehearsal space for the performing arts. The closing of The Freestanding Room was an embarrassing moment for the community, and I’m working hard to replace that very important institution. We’ve also decided to adjust our focus in our search for the ideal venue, looking for a larger functional theatre space, with the inevitable closure of Mainline. (Another embarrassing moment for the community. More specifically for their management, though.)
I’m also proud to be editing the manuscript for a friend’s book. Comedian and Producer Aloe Azimov has written a guidebook for “producing with love” and preventing burn out. I feel a lot of things on this topic, and as a producer whose work I respect so much, I’m really happy to be able to help her bring this to publication. This guidebook will be available for free download, with suggested donations to the Palestinian Children’s Fund.
Lastly, I’m working on more musical projects. The absolute joy of B-Side inspired me beyond words. While I’m not jumping into any musical theatre productions, I will be producing more revues like the outing at The Wiggle Room. I was blessed to work with Sophie Lane, and you can be sure I’ll be reaching out to her again to collaborate. If she’s sick of me, well, I’ll be looking for a new accompanist.
That’s it. I mean, that’s all I can think of off the top of my head. But, there are more things… There are always more things. I like to keep myself busy.
Where can we find your work?
You know, this is a loaded question for me. I have been historically awful at documenting any of the work I do. I mean, I’ve documented some of it, but when it comes to my immersive productions, for instance, there really isn’t that much to dig into. Photos, descriptions, a filmed trailer, and a really great 360 video of Who’s Afraid. And I’ve curated so many multidisciplinary performance series, from On The Boulevard to THISISNOTASAFESPACE, to Sleazy Christmas (my annual holiday soiree), but like the immersive work: YOU HAD TO BE THERE. Eventually, I realized that this was a detriment to my progress because there wasn’t much for anyone to witness. HOW WILL ANYONE KNOW HOW AWESOME I AM? So, I spent a lot of time and effort gathering every single piece of evidence of my career that I could find, and I put it all on my website. I mentioned that Tara McGowan-Ross thinks of it as a time capsule, but she’s also called it a resource, and obviously I welcome that sort of influence. Everything is there, from my live spoken word album, to the recording of B-Side, from essays and poetry, to photos from when I worked as a model. There’s even a pseudo-reality show, I’m not kidding. All of my successes and my failures. Plus, the documentation of all of my friends and colleagues. I beg of you: go to my website. It’s fun, and fucking weird, and you’ll have a good time and waste a few hours, and I promise you’ll discover more than one Montreal artist that will be your new favourite. You can also follow me on Instagram, that’s the easiest way to catch what I’m working on, and any upcoming events or productions.
