An Interview With Kristofer Sakamoto-Marshall

Necessity is typically the catalyst for invention, and while Toronto’s Kristofer Sakamoto-Marshall hasn’t invented the concept of the nomadic art gallery, his take on the premise is certainly novel – and much-needed – within the city. Particularly when you consider his gallery concept’s mandate.

The New Other, which Sakamoto-Marshall founded only a few years ago and formally launched with a group photography show during last year’s Contact Festival, is a project that seeks to expose the talent and vision of artists who examine themes from technology and its relationship to reality – such as in the inter-disciplinary work of Jaspal Bird – and Kahame Msiska’s tender and vivid photographs that mine topics of displacement, belonging, identity, freedom and loneliness as inspiration. Nomadic means The New Other has no fixed address in which to stage shows, instead allowing Sakamoto-Marshall and his roster-plus to participate in festivals, fairs and mount exhibitions in a variety of places to promote creativity and craft kinship through the universal experience of feeling something when looking at artwork.

Sakamoto-Marshall, who studied Kinesiology and is an avid basketball player, eventually pivoted to a career in the arts and his non-linear path serves him well in terms of affording an ability to think outside the white cube when it comes to representation, and how art can be presented to facilitate meaningful connections with viewers.

As a testament to this experimental, experiential philosophy, as well as its commitment to addressing the historic lack of diversity in the Toronto’s art scene, The New Other’s first show was done in one of my favourite bars, 915 Dupont. It’s a very vibey and cozy spot where the work on display became fluidly integrated into the atmosphere of the space.

Now Sakamoto-Marshall, who is also the gallery director at Lumas’ Yorkville location, has sights set on even broader horizons for The New Other. The gallery’s booth at Art Toronto 2024, which begins tomorrow, will showcase the far-reaching work of four artists: Jaspal Birdi, Geoffrey Lok-Fay Cheung, Archer the Fourth, and Sara Maclure; the booth’s theme centres around the meaning of “home”. Plus, Sakamoto-Marshall and Birdi are also currently enjoying the final week of her first solo exhibition in New York City at Trotter&Sholer. It’s a collaborative exhibition involving Sakamoto-Marshall and long-time friend, Trotter&Sholer’s owner and director Janna Ferrey.

Exploring her relationship between the digital and real-life moments (including breast cancer screenings), Birdi’s beguiling works in the show Between Standing and Moving flicker with metallic finishes courtesy of the use of emergency blankets as a canvas for her convergence of photography and painting. The effect further blurs the lines between what we’re seeing, the artist’s intention and ideas, and our own perceptions.

Sakamoto-Marshall’s enthusiasm for community-building is also apparent from his activity within organizations like the Japanese Canadian Cultural Centre, and his admiration of the founders of the Asian Arts and Culture Trust.

“The programming that AACT founders, the husband and wife duo of Michael and Emily, create centres around artists and creatives of various Asian backgrounds, but they don't limit themselves to exhibitions,” Sakamoto-Marshall explains. “I've been part of a panel talk on food and how some Asian cuisines have been appropriated by the West and become ‘elevated’ in their minds, and how some haven't and are still viewed as cheap eats. I've also participated in a roundtable on mental health.”

He also shouts out the work of friend Anita Li of the media platform The Green Line, which has an editorial focus on overlooked but brilliant ideas and adopts the tagline: ‘Different Hues. Different Views’.

Sakamoto-Marshall’s effusiveness in spotlighting the actions and accomplishments of others resounds when he speaks of Birdi’s practice, and that of his other artists and collaborators. He speaks with such passion and pride that it’s hard not to want to keep your eyes on what he’s up to (and planning). In this conversation, we spoke about the necessity of creating connection and community, nurturing talent, and why art is so important to our lives in ways we may not expect.

Installation view of Jaspal Birdi’s Between Standing and Moving at Trotter&Sholer.

I wish I could have seen Jaspal Birdi’s solo show in New York! How did that come together?

Jaspal and I have known each other for almost 20 years, since we worked together while we were in university. I had nothing to do with the arts at the time, but we kept in touch. After we’d both spent various years living in different countries, we came to reconnect on a professional level just over two years ago. She’s now an artist on The New Other’s roster, and for this show, we partnered with a wonderful gallerist who has a space on the Lower East Side, Jenna Ferrey of Trotter&Sholer.

Funnily enough, Jenna and I also met decades ago when we were roommates our first year at the University of Ottawa. I was studying Kinesiology at the time, and she, I believe, was undeclared but at that point was leaning towards Women's and Religious Studies. So, neither of us had anything to do with the arts. Now she has a gallery in Manhattan, and I'm running my nomadic gallery here in Toronto.

On a practical level, partnering with a gallery in another city makes sense – but on a conceptual, or an ideological level, why is this kind of endeavour important to someone like you?

I started The New Other partly because I saw some gaps in the market in terms of the existing gallery spaces both here in Toronto and elsewhere. I wanted to break down some barriers. This current opportunity worked out because Jaspal and I had spoken about her wanting to pursue her career and really get her name out there on more of an international level, and New York makes the most sense in terms of visibility but also proximity to Toronto, and the potential crossover between contacts and clients.

Jenna and I have known each other for so long, and both trust each other and know that we're working with good people; people that are on the same wavelength as us in terms of the impact that they're trying to make on the art space in the U.S. and in Canada. It made sense, timing-wise and ideologically, let's say, to work together to further these relationships.

Jaspal Birdi, 14h30m, 2024. Oil paint and photo-transfer on emergency blanket. 22 inches x 31.5 inches. Photography courtesy of The New Other, and on view at its booth at Art Toronto.

What are some of the barriers you’re referring to?

I don't want to put any person, organization or gallery down because there are a lot of great people doing amazing things in the city, in the GTA, and in the country as a whole. But I saw a gap – a few gaps – in terms of how folks could be reaching a wider audience than your usual art collectors or typical gallery demographic.

In my opinion, we live in the most diverse place in the world but that hasn't really been reflected in commercial gallery spaces in terms of the artist rosters. There are a lot of community groups, grassroots groups, individuals, collectives and organizations that are doing amazing things but in terms of a commercial aspect, we still haven't seen much of this kind of action. There's definitely been a positive push, in my eyes, for more diverse artist representation by galleries, but there's still a long way to go.

Alongside that, I think that spaces where people – whether they’re collectors or not – don’t feel intimidated or out of place or like they don’t belong, was lacking. And the locations of physical gallery spaces can be a barrier to people, whether it's due to mobility or transportation. These are things I think about in terms of the programming, whether it means engaging with communities where they are, or doing a show in a non-traditional space.

For instance, the first show that The New Other ever had was at last year’s Contact Festival, and it was held at the listening bar and coffee shop 915 Dupont. The owner, Nigel, does a great job of making it a welcoming space for everybody. It has very eclectic decor; and I know the aim of a lot of galleries is to have a very minimalistic design because the focus is on the artwork – but I wanted to have a show where the artwork was a part of the environment. Then, that artwork is part of an overall feeling and it’s possible to conceptualize how that work could potentially ‘live’ in a designed space.

I feel like your approach is very much about an emotional connection to art.

At the end of the day, it's about the connection between an individual and the artwork, and the response one feels. That’s what any art form, not just the visual arts, is about: A person or a group getting their emotions and thoughts and histories and experiences out there to the public and creating a kind of catharsis.

What’s maybe been the most fulfilling thing for me since starting The New Other and doing shows is that I've witnessed people from so many different life backgrounds that have formed connections, and even friendships, afterward. This is what’s at the gallery’s core – what everything is about. If we can build a greater sense of community across demographics and industries, then I think that's just a better way to live, let alone being helpful for the arts. 

Kahame Msiska, Amaka, 2023. Archival Pigment Print on on Fibre Rag. Framed in white on museum glass. 14 inches x 11 inches.

I’ve asked fashion designers this question before, and I want to get your impressions here. What are your thoughts on what I think is an excess in pressure, even a burden, for artists from marginalized communities to expose, explore and educate people about traumatic experiences and other deeply personal issues through their work in a way that I don’t think white artists are expected to?

At the end of the day, it's up to the individual. If it's the artist's choice to educate people outside of their community, or who aren’t aware of whatever history or experience or issue is being highlighted, then that's their prerogative. If it's not, then that's completely fine and acceptable, too. There was certainly a shift post-2020 during the rise of the Black Lives Matter cause where we saw more Black and African American artists being in the public eye. But then, and additionally filtered out into other diasporas, there was almost an expectation of revisiting trauma or history or injustice. And there is value in that exploration, but as I said, that not a should be requirement in an artist’s statement or work. People and groups of people are so much more multifaceted than to really just have to synthesize their voice down to a trauma or a sense of pity, almost in a way that we're supposed to feel sorry for them.

To that point, the artists you work with navigate big topics in their practice but there's often a sense of humour, or sense of softness to it. Is that intentional on your part?

There’s a subconscious intentionality. Let's say it's not something that I overtly have as a mandate – I don't look for or connect with artists that are necessarily revisiting personal histories, for example, and there are dimensions to their work, like you said.

I think of Jaspal, whose work is more in the abstract realm, but regardless of what her or other artists are creating, they're bringing their own personality, their own experience, their own backgrounds, to the fore. To accomplish that, the work doesn't have to draw from or be inspired by or obviously reflect something culturally traditional or deeply personal. For instance, Kahame Msiska, another artist I work with and who is originally from Zambia, explores very emotional experiences in his photography but it's not overt in the sense of depicting an exact situation that happened. It's more subtle. You have to engage with the artwork and draw your own conclusions.

But going back to your comment earlier, I also don't think it's a bad thing if somebody of European descent is exposed to these other experiences of history. I think it can help them, hopefully, to respect and empathize with other people's experiences, and also maybe lend to some introspection on ways that they themselves have been impacted, or maybe have their own biases or prejudices.

Tell me more about your roster.

Overall, the mandate of the gallery is quite simply showing a group of artists that is a more accurate reflection of the demographics of the city, the region and the country that we live in. Their work has to be visually engaging, of course, because you need to have some type of a hook to get people into the work in order for them to learn about what the artist is trying to communicate. And the artist’s work needs to speak about something that, in my opinion and their opinion, should be known by a wider audience.

One artist outside of Ontario that I've worked with and have a lovely relationship with and a lot of respect for is the Métis artist Jean-Paul Langlois. A lot of his work delves into his family history on both sides, as well as his own experiences and moments of reflection. He and I connect a lot on that given my own mixed-race background, so our relationship naturally developed.

Jean-Paul Langlois, The Last Buffalo, 2023. Acrylic on canvas. 24 inches. × 36 inches.

What are you excited about in terms of the Toronto art scene?

I've been lucky enough to cultivate a social and professional circle that I believe is doing wonderful work in the city and really pushing things forward in terms of engaging with different communities and providing a platform for different voices.  To shout out some specific people, I would say Melanie Trojkovic and Burke Paterson at United Contemporary; Mel in particular has been strong advocate for me and what I'm doing.

Totally – we met through her!

I'm also really excited about the people operating in spaces between commercial gallery spaces and more grassroots organizations. I have a wonderful friend, Imani Busby, who just graduated from Toronto Metropolitan University and has already put on a number of different exhibitions. Her main ethos, or goal, is to provide a platform for emerging Black and other BIPOC artists, and queer artists. She had two different programs at Stackt Market last year, and she recently expanded into to Ottawa this past Summer. She’s hoping to go further, too, like to a new province each year to be in different communities. And this engagement is not just through the visual arts; she's brought in musicians and people from different creative backgrounds to truly build that sense of community. I look to people doing things like this, outside of traditionally used spaces, which is super meaningful and valuable work to bring people together, getting eyes on emerging artists, and also being able to give those artists feedback and direction.

We could talk at length about the sense of imposter syndrome, or the scarcity mentality, Toronto has overall. The only way that's ever going to change is if we all, or a larger group of people at least, are working together to benefit the whole.