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Atlas of Emotion

Shanie Tomassini, Solar Lamentation, Fonderie Darling, Until 15 November 2026

An art installation featuring several colorful sculptures displayed on transparent stands against a vibrant yellow wall.
Installation view, Shanie Tomassini, Solar Lamentation, Fonderie Darling. Photographed for NicheMTL.

“And how you feel can make it real,
Real as anything you’ve seen.”
—Peter Gabriel, “Steam”

In the BBC documentary series Century of the Self, director Adam Curtis chronicles Sigmund Freud’s influence on Western cultural logic throughout the 20th century. Freud’s structural psychoanalytical concepts animated the circulation of ideas about identity and agency and were harnessed over the past hundred years by powerful forces in politics and industry. Curtis paints a picture of a kind of conspiracy where experts in Freud’s theories manipulated the masses as puppet masters pull the strings of a marionette.  

Curtis for example cites the use of subliminal sexualized imagery in advertising following the publication in 1973 of Wilson Bryan Key’s book entitled Subliminal Seduction. Covert symbols embedded into ads, Keys claimed, acted subconsciously upon consumers, arousing them into associating products like automobiles and whiskey with sexual stimulation. These techniques were deployed in ad campaigns for everything from Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining to endorsements for Ronald Reagan’s U.S. presidential bid.

In addition to Freud’s theoretical framework, the political philosopher Ayn Rand’s system of Objectivism, articulated in works of fiction like The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged, influenced the 20th century emphasis on the individual as the key constituent of Western civilization. Society would naturally regulate itself, Rand speculated, if individuals acted in their own extreme self-interest, unconstrained by government and legislative regulation. Rand’s ideas were embraced by Britain and America’s political right who believed in unrestricted financial markets and neoliberal industrial capitalism built upon a foundation of autonomous private industry.

Les Vespérales #20 – Kingdom Come, Kingdom Go with Michael Cloud Duguay and Estelle Schorpp, Église du Sacré-Cœur-de-Jésus de Montréal, 19 September 2026

A group of four musicians performing on stage, surrounded by various electronic instruments and a large organ in the background, with atmospheric lighting creating a dramatic effect.
Michael Cloud Duguay and friends perform at Église du Sacré-Cœur-de-Jésus de Montréal. Photographed for NicheMTL.

“A song is not a lyric. It’s not a melody. It’s not chord. It’s not a bridge. It’s not a chorus. It’s an emotion.”
—Terry McBride

It was subconscious libidinal manipulation that undergirded all of this furious economic activity, according to Curtis. But in the 21st century, the focus shifted away from appealing subliminally to people’s desires and more overtly toward affectively appealing to people’s emotions. Particularly, fear became an important motivating factor following the 9/11 attacks in the U.S. Terror replaced pleasure as the lever of Western power, and politicians and cultural producers alike realized that they could exert far more control over their audiences with affective rather than unconscious attractions.

If the 20th century was the century of the self, the 21st so far is the century of the hive, the faction, the squad. This is because the individual has been rendered powerless against the forces of terror, and individuals have regressed to a more tribal, animalistic form of social organization. Affective triggers drive this behaviour. And various combinations of affect — fear, hatred, arousal, nostalgia — will organize and reorganize individuals into adjacent and recombinant factions.

This is why, for example, Bernie Sanders and Steve Bannon, who superficially should be diametrical opposites, came together to oppose the advent of A.I. Or why the ultra-conservative podcaster Tucker Carlson has promoted Dr. Abdul El-Sayed, a progressive U.S. Senate candidate. Naomi Klein calls these opportunistic allegiances “diagonalism,” a useful designation for contrasting pairings for immediate mutual benefit. Additionally, diagonalism is the opposite of individualism in that it thrives within albeit loosely formed communities. Diagonalist politics is at once highly social and niche.

At the avant garde of the diagonalist turn in the 21st century was fashion and culture. Music scenes around the beginning of the new millennium became more permeable and permissible. Previously disparate genres joined forces to become unlikely allies manifesting in hybrids like electroclash and hyperpop. Clothing, too, ceased to predominantly reflect unique individual identity and became more about asserting omnivorous sartorial tastes: gym shorts with cowboy boots; a shoulder-padded blazer paired with cinched barrel jeans. Atypical was the new typical in self-expressive terms. But what of a society comprised of atypicality, one that appears designed to discourage consensus?

Élise Lafontaine, Colorature, Pangée, Until 31 October 2026

A large, sculptural installation in vibrant red, shaped like a stylized curtain, placed in an art gallery with wooden flooring and white walls.
Gallery views, Élise Lafontaine, Colorature, Pangée. Photographed for NicheMTL.

“To think of capitalism as other than unified also means thinking of some exchange markets as more repugnant than others, and therefore some capitalizations as themselves preferred lines of flight.”
—Patricia Ticineto Clough, Auto-affection: unconscious thought in the age of teletechnology

I visited Librairie Paragraphe this week to buy a copy of End Times Fascism, the new book co-authored by Naomi Klein and Astra Taylor. While there, I also picked up Liberal Fascisms, the Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Žižek’s latest collection of essays. I remarked to the store manager, Andreas, that it seemed like lots of people recently were using the word “fascism,” to which he replied, “yeah, it’s very popular right now — fascism and protein.”

This unlikely combination of microtrends struck me as fascinating for two reasons. First is their oppositional stance toward those tendencies which immediately preceded them: socialism and fibre. For the past 30 years, we might recall that a steady diet of left-wing politics and oat bran characterized the Western cultural elite. But the second is their apparent diagonalism: two evidently unrelated things improbably merging — like punk and electro, or cowboy boots and gym shorts.

The Awaited Return of Lang Lang, Maison Symphonique, 23 September 2026

A pianist passionately performing at a grand piano with an orchestra in the background, featuring musicians playing string instruments.
Lang Lang performs with the Orchestre Symphonique de Montréal at Maison Symphonique. Antoine Saito for the OSM.

“Limits or virtual attractors, in and of themselves, remain recessively, superempirically untouched. It is the abstract movements they govern that mix.”
—Brian Massumi, Parables for the Virtual

The bottom line is affective sway. Fascism and protein both hold intense emotional attraction, the former because of its uneasy and heretofore forbidden status, and the latter because of its promise to surpass the 20th century individual’s potential. Furthermore, fascism and protein are congruent with the cultural current of “-maxxing” and the tendency toward cryptic jargon in forming diagonal communities, especially online. I have not yet started reading End Times Fascism, but I would not be surprised if eating Paleo was an end-times fascist hallmark.

Invoking overtly fascistic and posthuman tropes is also the antithesis of subliminal seduction. It might be described as supraliminal friction. Young people nowadays possess a strange penchant for aggravation that the previous generation tended to avoid at all costs, like flip phones, insolent commercial interactions, and lining up for brunch.

For Blood and Soil book launch with Amarnath Amarasingam and Stephanie Carvin, McGill University Faculty Club, 14 September 2026

A person holding the book 'For Blood and Soil: Far-Right Extremism in Canada' by Amarnath Amarasingam and Stephanie Carvin, with a blurred cityscape in the background.
For Blood and Soil: Far-Right Extremism in Canada by Amarnath Amarasingam and Stephanie Carvin, published by McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2026. Photographed for NicheMTL.

“For the Nazis, their war was the war ‘against the alliance of bolshevism and plutocracy.’”
—Slavoj Žižek, “Altona, Los Angeles: from the nearby to the neighbour”

Are fascism and protein simply symptoms of youthful rebellion, like the running gag on Family Ties in which Michael J. Fox’s Alex P. Keaton character was a sweater vest-wearing republican just to piss off his hippie parents? At least two existential threats to humanity exist today that did not at that time: artificial intelligence and the climate crisis. In this moment, there is more at stake.

The project is to make sustaining life seem edgier than inevitable annihilation. And to make it emotionally affective. This entails nothing short of moral evolution, a convergence of every national and political stripe in defiant unity. It might be the unlikeliest diagonal alliance so far.

Come to NicheMTL’s Glitch Issue launch party October 1st 2026 at the SAT. Featuring live performances by Courant Zéro, HRT, and Seulement. Get tickets here.

NicheMTL is Montreal’s independent not-for-profit source for this city’s most niche arts and culture. If you love what you’re reading, please consider buying a yearbook and subscribing.

Cover image: Christopher Gambino, Hysterical Margaret (2026), Vanity, stockings, shoes, shelf, 6 x 8 x 8 inches. Photographed for NicheMTL.

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Trick Rider

Sonya Derviz, Hover, Bradley Ertaskiran, 22 January – 7 March 2026

Sonia Derviz, Near, 2025. Oil and Charcoal on Linen, 200 x 240 cm. Photographed for NicheMTL.

Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.
—I Peter 5:8

Ghosts don’t have to be dead to haunt us.

The OED’s earliest definitions of the verb “to haunt” have nothing to do with unseen or immaterial forces. The first listed Middle English meanings, dating from around 1230 to 1588, simply denote: “To practice habitually, familiarly, or frequently; to use or employ habitually or frequently.”

Consequently, our habits haunt us. The things we use, consume, ingest, imbibe, and inhale haunt us. Haunting is a variation of recognition and frequency that helps us navigate the world.

Especially breath is associated with ghosts. One of ghost’s many synonyms, the word “Spirit,” is defined primarily as, “the animating or vital principle in humans and animals; that which gives life to the body, in contrast to its purely material being; the life force, the breath of life.”

Ghosts are merely traces, either material or immaterial, that evoke some living presence. Any persevering impression can be ghostly. A hair in the sink. The smell lingering on a pillowcase. A shadow. An echo. A tendril of smoke hovering in thin air. That which is irresolute and unresolved; that which is sensed but cannot be grasped; that which is stubbornly persistent; that which is more than nothing, but barely; that which is discerned and cannot be ignored.

Ghosts frequent and use and practice haunting in order to cheat death and endure.

Betty Pomerleau, Half Hitch, Pangée, 29 January – 7 March 2026

Betty Pomerleau, gallery view, Pangée. Photographed for NicheMTL.

“Haunting, then, can be construed as a failed mourning. It is about refusing to give up the ghost or — and this can sometimes amount to the same thing — the refusal of the ghost to give up on us. The spectre will not allow us to settle into/ for the mediocre satisfactions one can glean in a world governed by capitalist realism.”
—Mark Fisher, “Not Giving Up the Ghost”

A possible future sliding out of view is an example of a living ghost. A broken promise. A missed opportunity. Unused potential. Unrealized immanence. We mourn some and celebrate others.

Because there are infinite lost futures, we live constantly amongst their ghosts. Frayed strands and knotted threads, they accumulate like clusters of dust and periodically must be swept away.

But still, some traces remain.

Totem Électrique XIX, Salle Bleue | Edifice Wilder, 29 January 2026

Jean-François Laporte performs at Totem Électrique, Espace Bleue | Edifice Wilder, 29 January 2026. Photographed for NicheMTL.

“This rhythm is your world. It is the world as you contract it, almost in the sense in which you contract a condition, and exactly in the sense you contract a habit.”
—Brian Massumi, “Tell Me Where Your Pain Is”

The oscillations of resemblance and change that our world undergo constitute our experience of time. Think of the alternating periods of power of opposing political parties in the United States.

The modern neoliberal era began with Ronald Reagan’s ascension to the White House, followed by George H.W. Bush, George W. Bush, and the first Trump tenure. Democrats Bill Clinton, Barack Obama, and Joe Biden provided a contrapuntal sense of forward momentum otherwise known as progress to these Republicans’ periodic backward-facing impulses.

Trump’s slogan, Make America Great Again, is the most explicit appeal to a regressive cultural impetus, promising amelioration through reversal, better living through resurrection, the ultimate haunting. The problem is that the past cannot be reintroduced into the future without fundamentally rupturing both past and future.

Similarly in Quebec, the spectre of sovereignty in 2026 summons a noxious rhythmic nostalgia to 1980 and 1995, punctuated by gestures to Réné Lévesque, Jacques Parizeau, and Lucien Bouchard. I claim that Parti Québécois leader Paul St-Pierre Plamondon’s suggestions of a third referendum are less about making Quebec independent and more about resuscitating a mythic history that never came to pass, moving into the future by rewriting the past.

That these oscillations are decreasing in frequency in Quebec and increasing in the United States suggests an arrythmia in the heart of global progress.

Matthew Feyld, Blouin | Division, 30 January – 21 March 2026

Matthew Feyld, Untitled, CP-04-26, 2025/2026, Acrylic and pigment on linen over panel, 20.3 x 20.3 cm. Photographed for NicheMTL.

“Yet here’s a spot.”
—Lady Macbeth, The Tragedy of Macbeth

I once lived in a hundred-year-old house whose interior must have been repainted every ten or so years. In various places on the stairs, cracks and layers in the paint became visible. For instance, a pale pink gave way to whitewashed teal, and on top, a chocolate brown. Every decade was represented by a radically different choice in colour. My experience of time swelled whilst living in this house because I was constantly made aware of its history.

The house is gone now, demolished during Covid. And yet, I recall the thickness and specific order of these layers of coloured paint.

The Orchestra According to Duke Ellington and Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff, Orchestre Symphonique de Montréal, Maison Symphonique, 22 January 2026

Hankyeol Yoon conducts the OSM at Maison Symphonique, 22 January 2026. Photographed for NicheMTL.

“And if you’re on a horse trick riding in the mud and rain,
Can’t expect me to watch or ask me to explain.”
—Gord Downie, “Trick Rider”

It is no secret that I was once an unrepentant drinker of alcohol and drug user. These habits I imagined constituted fundamental facets of my personality. I used alcohol and drugs to assert my selfhood in opposition to the status quo. Normal, I thought, was boring. My experience of reality unfolded parallel to the experiences and realities of sober people. These substances were undoubtedly spirits that haunted me, although it is debatable whether I was the ghost or its nightly host.

Whenever I contemplated giving up drugs and drink, I feared that I would at once lose my singular sense of character, that I would suddenly become less interesting, more uniform, less unique. ‘How will I ever be able to socialize / be creative / stand out from the crowd without intoxicants?’ I wondered to myself.

Now that some distance exists between me and those habits, I ask myself the opposite question: How was I ever able to socialize / be creative / stand out with them?◼︎

Thank you for inviting NicheMTL to your thing. Please get in touch at the about page.

NicheMTL is Montreal’s independent not-for-profit source for this city’s most niche arts and culture. If you love what you’re reading, please consider buying a yearbook and subscribing.

Cover image: From left: Megan Bradley, Tiffany Le, and Jean-Michael Seminaro documenting Sonya Derviz’s Hover at Bradley Ertaskiran, 23 January 2026.

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After The Future

Jan Jelinek with Roméo Poirier and Racine, Society for Arts and Technology, 15 November 2024

Racine performs at SAT, 15 November 2024. Photographed for NicheMTL.

“From now on there can be no unpolitical prophecies.”
—John Berger, “The Moment of Cubism.”

In 2016, when Donald Trump was for the first time elected U.S. president, the online discourse-o-sphere kicked into overdrive with comparisons to various dystopian narratives, both historical and fictional.

Political theorists like Henry A. Giroux and Robert Paxton cited similarities to the unholy trinity of World War II-era fascist dictators. The New Yorker cartoonist Paul Noth likened Trump to the archetypal wolf tending his flock of sheep.

But none was as pervasive as Trump’s apparent correlation to Biff Tannen in Back to the Future Part II, leading the 1989 film’s screenwriter, Bob Gale, to confirm that he indeed modelled Tannen’s character on a caricature of Trump.

However, the blowhard billionaire archetype is no longer an exaggeration, nor does its application implicitly affront Trump or his supporters.

On the contrary, a loudmouthed misogynistic bully who appears impervious to criticism is the epitome of heroism for the new generation of disaffected and desensitized Americans who voted for him. Scorn only empowers them further; shame, paradoxically, is their badge of honour.

These incongruities have led many of us to observe, like the Back to the Future sequel’s plot, that we are living in the worst of conceivable timelines. But I’m afraid that it’s even worse than that: we’re going through the worst timeline again, like taking that pathological second whiff of a carton of spoilt milk.

This is Back to the Future Part II, part two.

NPNP with Anna Mayberry and Hidden Attachment, Lamplight, 14 November 2024

Listeners gather for NPNP’s “Harmony in a Vacuum” launch, 14 November 2024. Photographed for NicheMTL.

“Deception counts less as a measure of realism than as evidence of magicianship, and is a highly atypical mishap.”
—Nelson Goodman, Languages of Art

If works of art reflect the cultural zeitgeist, then we are clearly in a state of general disarray. Deconstructed music is only the latest structurally homologous current indicating the lack of structure and void of solidarity evident in society.

For instance, rigidly rhythmic electronic music of the 1980s and ‘90s fairly accurately echoed late modernity, the perfect and predictable thump-and-clap of the cybernetic age.

At the turn of the new millennium, arrhythmic trends exemplified by Autechre’s off-the-grid programming, and further, by Burial’s beat-mismatched hauntological loopscapes, anticipated the increasingly fragmented post-Fordist modes of production emerging under hypercapitalism.

Of all the 20th century musical inventions, the synthesizer sonically represented futurism best. But by the early 21st century, it had quickly flipped into an instrument of nostalgia, reminding us of the squandered potential of possible futures past.

Now, in an era of heightened precarity, remote and always-on labour, forever wars and forever chemicals, we are confronted with alienating and longform musical (de)compositions that reject almost any semblance of structure, and in which moments of traditional melody and chance harmony are at best incidental.

The recto of this verso is the retromaniacal return to thinner and thinner slivers of musical historicity, reliving, repeating, and recombining ever-shrinking aesthetic precedents in a rapidly decaying orbit, reducing entire cultural currents and oeuvres to a “vibe” or a “mood.”

This is neither a good nor a bad thing — but it is undisputedly nonetheless a thing.

La grandiose Symphonie alpestre de Richard Strauss, Orchestre symphonique de Montréal, Bruce Liu Piano, Rafael Payare Conductor, Maison Symphonique, 13 November 2024

Bruce Liu performs with the OSM at Maison Symphonique, 13 November 2024. Antoine Saito for the OSM.

“The sense of inevitability that a great work of art projects is not made up of the inevitability or necessity of its parts, but of the whole.”
—Susan Sontag, “On Style.”

There are a handful of writers to whom I always return in troubled times, among them William S. Burroughs, Slavoj Žižek, Mark Fisher, Susan Sontag, and Woody Allen. All of these at alternating points in their lives experienced ecstasy and despair, the heights of fame and the trials of misfortune.

Burroughs, for example, murdered his own wife, ostensibly an accident from which his creative conscience likely never fully recovered. Woody Allen has now defiantly spent half of his career under the long shadow of popular cancellation. Fisher succumbed to his own diagnosis that there was no alternative to capitalism — other than the exceedingly unlikely possibility that we would all take psychedelics and fall madly in love with modernity again.

I make no claim for any of these thinkers, nor apologies for their misdeeds, nor explanations for their failures or successes. However, their words provide me a profound sense of comfort, a path forward, like sets of deep footprints in freshly fallen snow.

Russell Banx, Gaze and Gesture, Pangée, 14 November – 21 December 2024

Russell Banx, Across the Lake, 2024. Graphite on paper. 57 x 44 in. Photographed for NicheMTL.

“for God, to me, it seems,
is a verb
not a noun”
—R. Buckminster Fuller, “No More Secondhand God.”

My generation and every generation after it mainly fall into two problematic categories: those who were never taught how to fight, and those who were only taught how to fight.

The progeny of hippies were erroneously told that love would conquer all. This is false. Love in fact conquers very few things, not even love itself. Hatred is often stronger than love.

If conquering is the goal, the most valuable tool is violence. The trick is to fight lovingly, to commit violence with love.

Déliquescence, Fonderie Darling, 26 September – 8 December 2024

Installation view, Déliquescence, Fonderie Darling. Photographed for NicheMTL.

“God makes the world by calculating, but his calculations never work out exactly, and this inexactitude or injustice in the result, this irreducible inequality, forms the condition of the world.”
—Gilles Deleuze, Difference and Repetition

The work of art in the age of its artificial reproduction immediately raises the question of its authenticity. Can art conceived of and made by a complex computer program genuinely be called art? Or is the art perhaps the A.I. itself?

If it is, human beings are not the artists; God is. And all of creation is His, well, creation. We are not the medium but the form.

The opposite of artificial intelligence is not human intelligence but rather divine instinct.◼︎

Thank you for inviting NicheMTL to your thing. Please get in touch at the about page.

NicheMTL is Montreal’s independent not-for-profit source for this city’s most niche arts and culture. If you love what you’re reading, please consider subscribing.

Cover image: Russell Banx. Photographed for NicheMTL.

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