Traitors Never Prosper

(except artistically, culturally, personally & financially)

By Mathew Thomas and Steve MacIsaac

We found two independent artists, one an illustrator who left his Canadian home for the greener grasses of California, and one who dreams of making the move to the United States, but with reservations. Thinking both of the theme of the issue, and of the simpler days of grade school when our pen pals would tell us about their lives in a foreign land, we set these two up (albeit via email rather than the brightly-decorated snail mail of grade five pen pals of yesteryear). Here’s a peek at their correspondence.

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Hello Ex-Can Con Steve,

As I sit wrapped up in a cozy afghan knitted with love by my 94- year-old great grandmother and stare out my bay window at the dead of winter, I think to myself, why do I endure the soul- crushing plague that is a Canadian winter?

What is the temperature in California? I can only imagine sandy beaches, orange groves, loose morals and short, short shorts.

See Stevie, can I call you that? I don’t know the protocol anymore. It’s been many moons since my last pen pal. It was Grade 6 in fact, and we met at camp when the summer winds were warm and our cares were free and innocent. (Insert coming of age tale here.)

I digress.

I’ve been fighting an internal battle for months concerning whether or not I could/would/should ever chose to leave the safe, serene and simply Canadian life here in Toronto for greener pastures.

I spent a month in both NYC and LA on the coattails of some film festivals in a desperate attempt to figure out where the next step of my life would play itself out, but now I just want to live in three very different cities, which for the average poverty-stricken artist is not a viable option without sex trade work or the distribution of narcotics. Are they truly greener or is it just the same shit, different, more warm, American pile?

Background: I’m a filmmaker, writer and curator who runs a traveling queer music video festival, and I can’t help but feel the culturally magnetic pull of, well, anywhere but here. I’ve been lucky enough to coax my career on its way here in my homeland, but in the back of mind is that old-fashioned, nagging feeling.

I’ve always known that so many successful Canadian artists have gone elsewhere in search of something bigger, something more. I’m often telling other local filmmakers that with its hefty grant system and rampant liberalism, we’re in the perfect place to get our start, but as far as making it on an international level, the money and resources are nowhere to be seen.

So let the inquisition begin. Help me in my quest, my knowledge.

1) How did you make the choice to leave and why California?

2) What do you miss the most about the land of maple and love?

3) So many artists I’ve talked to about jumping ship said they couldn’t ever deal with the American political situation. How is it living in the eye of the shitstorm? 4) Are there any advantages to being Canadian in the land of opportunities? Should I tattoo a maple leaf ever so jock-like on my bubbly sprawling Canadian Shield?

Truly Canadian,
xoxo Matt Thomas
www.myspace.com/backalleyjukebox

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Hey Mattalicious! (which is what I am going to call you from now on if you call me Stevie, so be warned!)

Pen pals do seem like such an old-fashioned concept, don’t they? They always make me think of Charlie Brown trying to write a letter and getting ink everywhere. I suppose if Schulz were making Peanuts now the concept would need to be updated somewhat. Maybe Charlie Brown’s MySpace page would keep crashing.

Your description of huddling under the afghan brings back memories! I sort of miss winter, truth be told, although I miss it more conceptually than in actual fact. I’ve been out of Canada a while, so my memories of freezing my ass off have, over time, been culled leaving only my happy memories of sledding, skating, and playing with bunnies in the snow, all taking place at temperatures than never dip below –5 degrees. In other words, complete fantasy. All it took was being in Vancouver for a few days in January where it uncharacteristically snowed and remained on the ground for several days. Not exactly extreme weather, and it was nice to experience, but a couple of days and I was done. I am officially a winter dilettante.

You gave me some background about yourself, so I should do the same. I am from Nova Scotia originally, but have lived in British Columbia and New Brunswick. By day I teach ESL; by night, I draw queer comics–both the erotic kind and the neurotic kind. The erotic work was released in a hardcover collection by German publisher, Bruno Gmünder. The neurotic work is featured in my ongoing series, SHIRTLIFTER, the second issue of which will be released this summer.

Your simultaneous attraction and repulsion to the idea of living in the States tracks pretty closely to the back and forth debate raging through my own head before moving down here a year and a half ago. In fact, I just recently completed an autobiographical comic about my move, which I’m running in the next issue of my series, SHIRTLIFTER.

We’re a bit different, though, in that I’ve never been especially drawn to the idea of living in the United States. In fact, for a long time I was quite actively hostile to the idea, proclaiming loudly that it would never happen. “No way.” “Over my dead body.” “Not as long as that asshole is still in the White House.” Familiar sentiments, yes?

Yet, here I be. I can’t say that I wound up here by accident, exactly, but I did take a rather circuitous route. When I first got here, and people asked where I moved from, my answer would always be “Canada, via Tokyo”. Which is a bit of me being a smartass, yes, but it’s also the truth. I would never be living in the States if I hadn’t moved to Japan in December of 2001. Four straight semesters of art school left me financially decimated, mentally exhausted, and directionally confused. I also missed my boyfriend, who had gone to Japan at the same time I started at NSCAD in Halifax, and long-distance was taking its toll on our relationship. I thought I would take a break and make some money while I investigated Japanese art and culture. I intended to go for six months, and wound up staying for three and a half years. So, I had already been out of the country for a while by the time I moved to the States.

Being an ex-pat in Japan significantly changed many of my perceptions about my cultural identity, simply because it is such a cultural crossroads. My coworkers at the ESL company that employed me were from Japan, Australia, England, Scotland, South Africa, France, the US, and Canada. While I had friends and acquaintances from New Zealand, Venezuela, Portugal, Germany, Switzerland, Malaysia, Austria, and Korea. When I decided to leave Japan, almost four years of hanging around such an international mix made me realize that my next step wasn’t necessarily limited to Halifax, Montreal, Toronto, or Vancouver. If I could live in Japan for so long, I could pretty much live anywhere.

I wound up in California for the simplest of reasons. I fell in love with a wonderful guy, and this is where he lives and works. We met just after I had decided to leave Japan and was trying to figure out my next move; although I had misgivings about living in the States, being able to continue our relationship while also being better able to publish and promote my comics was too strong a combination to overlook.

Which doesn’t mean it’s always easy being here. As mentioned earlier, I did have a lot of political reservations about moving, and my frustration with the American government is no weaker than it was before. However, I must say that is not particularly more frustrating to watch Bush fuck everything up from south of the border than it is from the North, since it’s not something that I have any control over either way. I can’t vote or participate in political process since I am not a citizen, so I watch things with the same sense of detachment and bewilderment that I did while in Canada or Japan. Basically, I’m here, but I’m not here–at least politically. I realize that probably sounds somewhat culturally schizophrenic, but in all honesty, Japan was a great training ground for that kind of thinking because I was even MORE disenfranchised from the political process there. At least in America I can read and understand the newspaper, even though what it says drives me crazy.

On the whole, though, when people find out I’m Canadian, it’s generally a source of mild curiosity. When my origins are brought up, either by myself or someone else, I always get asked a lot of questions. You do get the occasional obnoxious “America Junior” jokes, or amazement that I don’t end every sentence with “eh”, but mostly people are genuinely curious, especially if they’ve never been. Canada does have this cachet to it in some ways, especially in gay circles. Partially it has to do with the gay marriage question, but mostly it’s because most Americans have never been, and they’re curious as to how it can be so similar and yet so different. I’ve even been told by a few guys that Canadian men have a reputation for being hot and for being good lovers! So yeah, that butt tattoo might get you a lot of attention.

So that’s my long-winded answer to your questions. Now, just to show that I am versatile and not passive, I’ll lob some questions your way: What specifically attracts you to living in the States? What do you think it has to offer your artistic career that couldn’t be achieved in Toronto? When you say you think that success is more easily achievable in the States, how exactly do you define success?

Your pen pal,
Steve
www.stevemacisaac.com

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Hey Steve,

I’ll stick to Steve as Mattalicious has an emasculated ring to it that I just can’t subscribe to. Call me old-fashioned.

So you find yourself in the US via Japan with a direct flight into your tender heartstrings; that’s quite admirable. I thought recently of moving to LA for a tattooed, ex-Hell’s Angels motorbike-riding, fellow metal head, post production supervisor with a bulldog, but alas the heart wanders and I’m determined to never move anywhere for someone, if only to avoid possible “What was I thinking” syndrome. Call me a bitter-Betty, but I’m in the process of marrying my career, if only we could just stop fighting and settle on the big day.

I’m glad to see that you are able to negotiate the chilly political climate down south. It’s been my experience that NYC and LA are pockets of the American experience where almost anyone working in the arts–queers and people with any ounce of social conscious–feel the same lack of power that us ex-pats experience even with the right to vote, so at least one shouldn’t be too lonely in America’s mega-cities while they wave their left- wing flags high. I’m not too fond of Canada’s conservative government either so let’s strike politics off the list of potentially hypocritical concerns. Lord knows what Stephen Harper would do with millions more people and a seemingly endless, morally tainted budget.

So it’s ESL by day and dirty pictures by night; I envy your setup, good sir. But this brings up another pressing question when it comes to slipping down south; the “other” job. I would love to write scripts, make films & music videos, crafts and curate my way to a rent cheque, but this is something that takes time, effort and simply doesn’t happen over night. How easy was it to find a job that would pay you under the table? Do you figure there are a lot of jobs out there for immigration hound dogs like myself that don’t involve cum rags, missing internal organs or fantastic new drug experiments? A friend of mine living in New York via Winnipeg for the last 10 years worked at a printing company under the table, so I know it’s possible, but I can’t help but think of that as a rare exception.

I’ve always known of the world’s feverish approval both in and out of the sheets for us maple-blooded folks, so I’m glad to see this has yet to change. What do you miss about Canada? Do you know any other ex-pats in your American life whose stories you’ve appreciated and taken advice from?

My other concern is that of living illegally in the land of the free. Sure there are millions of people in the States living illegally, and I know there are ways around getting caught, but what’s your method of dodge? It’s my understanding that you are allowed a six-month stay in the US without a travel visa with proof of financial ability (bank statements) before you have to go back to Canada for a short time (24 hours, I think) and then can return again proving your ability to support yourself (Is it that easy?) You mentioned a recent trip to Vancouver so you do come back to Canada on occasion. How do you wrangle it and would you ever become a full-fledged American hero thus giving up your Canadian passport?

It sounds like your career is going smashingly and so congrats. I’d love to have your filthy pictures in my dirty hands. On that note, do you find yourself better equipped to promote and draw in California or, better put, are there things that have happened to your artistic career you know wouldn’t have been possible in the wilds of Canada?

This is what attracts me to living in the States, you see. There is a greater potential for exposure, funding, audience and general work. I understand that good work always speaks for itself, and I’m a firm believer that,–be it Toronto, Regina or Topeka, Kansas–if a short film or feature is good, it will get seen. But when I see the sheer volume of private funders, studios and opportunities that are available in the States and compare them to what is here, it just doesn’t match up.

A snowstorm hit last night, and I couldn’t do my laundry because the power was out around the corner at the mat, and my mother called me from the west coast just to laugh.

California Dreaming on such a winter’s daaaaaaaaaaayyyyyy……

Oh god, I hope I choke on my cold, cold sandwich.

xoxox Matt Thomas

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Steve is a wise choice, Matt. Healthier for both of us in the long run, I think. 😉

I completely agree with your notion that New York and LA are oases in the political desert. I’d add San Francisco and Seattle to the list of exceptions as well. I was actually going to say as much in my last email, but it was already about a thousand pages long and I figured I had to save something for later, so I’m glad you brought it up. One of the things I’ve learned while being here is realizing that there is America, and then there is AMERICA. The values of the people I see everyday are actually pretty close to mine, and are not the values which seem to be at play on the national stage. Not a day goes by in the school lunchroom without someone making a comment about what an asshole Bush is, or what a fucked up quagmire Iraq is. In other words, the sense of frustration and powerlessness that you mention is not limited to queers and artists and culture workers but is actually the dominant sentiment among the people I’ve met in Los Angeles, which, yes, makes it a lot easier to live here.

I agree with your notion that moving only for love is a terrifically stupid thing to do, and if that were the only ball in play, I probably wouldn’t have done it, either, so you probably made the right call with your biker dude. However, if you’re thinking about taking the plunge anyway for other reasons, I can think of worse places to land than in the arms of a metal head, ex-Hell’s Angel. Love can be a pretty effective kick in the pants, and often gives us the jam to work up to things we might otherwise back away from. I’d considered moving a couple years earlier, but I brought out my laundry list of reasons I’d never move, and rejected the ideas. After meeting Todd I pulled out the same list, but tenacious bugger that he is, he insisted that I also make a list of positive reasons to come down, and that I articulate what would happen in a worst case scenario. Which, basically, was that I would move down, nothing would work out with my career or with Todd, and that the whole thing would be a huge mistake. Your basic fear of failure. And if it came true, well, I’m a two- hour plane ride away from the Canadian border. So “No risk, no reward”, while too much of a free-market capitalist mantra for my liking, is at least somewhat true socially.

However, although I’m not sure that I would have come without my heart having a stake in the matter, I would definitely not have come if I wasn’t able to support myself. When I first arrived (on a six-month tourist visa, so yes, your information is accurate) and was having difficulty finding work, I did consider looking for work under the table or finding a lesbian who might be willing to marry me; after all, it’s not like Todd is going to be able to marry me any time soon.

But as it turns out, I was able to get a visa above board, thanks to, surprisingly, NAFTA. Basically, a section of the agreement contains provisions for streamlining the movement of labour between Mexico, the US, and Canada. I came into the country on a TN Visa, which is a temporary one-year work authorization that is offered in certain employment categories. Teaching is on the authorized list if it’s post-secondary, and since the ESL program I teach for is located on a university campus, I qualify. I realize that situation can’t necessarily be duplicated–I lucked out, basically–but it’s a not particularly well-publicized route that is worth checking out for anyone who’s interested in coming down, particularly in professional categories. Although it’s not meant for long-term immigration, and ONLY allows you to work for the place that’s offered you a job, it allows you to work legally while you figure out if its someplace you want to be more permanently.

As for whether I could give up my Canadian passport — I dunno. I might go so far as to become a resident alien just because the stress and hassle of having to have my visa approved by border guards every year is not particularly pleasant. I don’t think I’d ever be able to refer to myself as an American, though. At this point, I’m very used to being a “stranger in a strange land” and I like the distance that it provides. And I don’t especially want to vote: the American system seems bafflingly corrupt and broken to me, and I like the fact that I have the ability to say “Fuck it” and get out if I need to. Then again, my partner is here, and I can see how keeping one foot out the door could be damaging to us in the long run–call it a macro version of commitment- phobia. So, I won’t say it would never happen. After all, that’s what I said about living here, period, not so long ago.

You are correct that moving’s been good for my career, such as it is. The move has made it possible to self-publish SHIRTLIFTER, which is not something I could have done in Japan. It has also allowed me to participate in various comic and art expos, where I’ve met other gay illustrators and comics folk, which has in turn led to some paying gigs. While I could arguably do the same thing out of Vancouver or Toronto, the expense of traveling would likely keep me at home, and I’m pretty shit at self-promotion over the phone or by email. But going to different expos and conventions has allowed me to make contacts that didn’t happen when I was living in Japan, doing all this work in isolation.

As far as LA Canucks go, I work with another Canadians at my job, and there was a gay couple upstairs (who’ve since moved out) in which one of the guys was Canadian, and I’ve run into a few more hither and yon. But to be honest, I knew more Canadians when I lived in Tokyo. Admittedly, part of it is simply not having a lot of time–the downside of the ESL by day/ cartoons by night approach is that I’ve been too fucking busy to cultivate an incredibly wide social circle. I’m not the fastest drawer on the planet, so if I don’t work a lot, I don’t get anything done. So I’ve been kind of a slave to the drawing board and not really following up on connections and making the scene as much as I should be. I’m hoping that changes with the summer, and as I get the new issue out the door I can do more gallery style events to promote the book.

Dunno if this is at all helpful, but hope there’s some info in there that’s applicable to your situation.

Hugz,

Steve

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Hey Steve

The more the temperature drops the more I feel the desperate need to go jet shopping at Pearson airport with a suitcase full of my vinyl and my single pump double barrelled “plane ticket,” but then again, vacation by terrorism is so last season.

So on to more solutions.

Lesbians brides…. see now you’re giving me the juicy insider scoop. Were you at all successful in finding any potential Sapphic soul mates? I’ve heard that the marriage route is a hell of a lot harder than sitcoms would have me believe. Let me know how much you looked into it and whether or not you could attest to that being a worthy effort.

I have the most fantastic Jewish godfather who happens to be an immigration lawyer for the Canadian government. God bless the wild care factor; who knows if that’ll come in handy. Did you get a lawyer or did you pray to the ancient spirits of evil to send you a helpful pamphlet on how to screw over US immigration?

I’m shocked for the first time to hear you speak well of the NAFTA monster. I knew somewhere in that capitalist agreement there was a loophole just big enough for homo love to slip through. How did you find out about the special circumstance of your situation and even about the ESL job itself? What did you encounter when you started looking for jobs in Canada Senior as an outsider? I can’t imagine the proper protocol for applying for jobs as a non-citizen. Do you outright declare that you’re not a citizen before the interview? At the interview? Did anyone react poorly to your attempts at freeloading off the American way and run after you with pitchforks while screaming God Bless America?

That’d be neato.

Your boyfriend’s rather rational “list” technique is brilliant, and I forced myself to do that very same thing, only I’m so non- confrontational about choosing things that the list was perversely even-handed. It did however make me think more closely about the specifics of a potential US escape in a real drawn out way.

My issue at first was making the choice between LA and NYC. Ultimately I decided upon New York as I know a lot more people there than in LA and had a few offers of places to stay while I attempted to put some semblance of a life together. NYC is also much closer to the border so in case of emergency or nuclear holocaust, I would only be a $100 ass-numbing Greyhound ride away from the Tdot and the creature comforts only Canucks can construct. The sad part about escaping from LA without Kurt Russell’s help is if I were to come down with a severe case of EAP or Extreme Artistic Poverty, the cheapest and most realistic place to run to would be back home to Victoria, and well, it’s true what they say; you can never go home (without feeling like a total washout).

The issue is, however, about the concept of “home”. While taking a jet set grant break back in CN Towerland, I realized that as much as I love it here, it doesn’t feel like home . But then neither does Victoria, where I grew up. I’ve become comfortable enough with travel and strange places that I’ve put on the skin of a drifter, and it’s that skin that allowed me to even toy with taking the plunge south. I’ve come to grips with the fact that I love Toronto enough never to abandon it completely, but now I just can’t see myself here forever.

For the time being, I’ve laid out the potential workload and finances that need to be in place before it’s even an option. It’s now just a matter of committing to saving up and not losing my edge, while in the meantime letting Toronto and Canada have a chance at seducing me with opportunities.

There is one question though you keep avoiding that I really must know. What do you miss the most about Canada? That hole in your heart where Canada use to be, what was it made of?

Well, I won’t know what I miss ‘til I’m gone because I always have the safe knowledge that I’m coming back. FYI: there’s nothing better than coming back into Canada by car and being ushered in by the “Welcome to Canada” sign. Although, in contrast to American border guards, a bag of broken glass shoved in my rectum would still be a welcome greeting.

Any last bits of advice for potential ship jumpers looking to get their ex-pat on?

xoxoxox Matt Thomas

P.S. Do me a favor though…. stay Canadian. It’s like a really cool secret club where we’re all smart and cute and have magical powers. Plus, a Canadian passport might do you well when the world falls into chaos and all Americans fall even more out of favour. The world will need dirty gay comics or at least my world… what I’m saying is that I will not be willing to live in a world without them. So stick to the Red and the White and leave the blue to those silly Yanks.

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Matt,

I do keep avoiding that question, don’t I? It’s not intentional, I’m just easily sidetracked, if I ever achieve sainthood, I will be known as “Our Lady of Perpetual Distraction.” So let’s get the question of what I miss most about Canada out of the way first. Now, if you had asked me six months ago, I would have definitely said “health care,” but that’s been taken care of recently, so instead I shall say poutine. Not that I want to eat the stuff often, but it’s nice to have the option available.

If that answer seems rather trite, it’s because I don’t really miss that much. Mostly because I’ve gone back and forth a fair amount to be renew my work visa, which has to be done on reentry at the Canadian border. So I’ve been back and forth not infrequently. My sister in Vancouver jokes that she sees more or me now than when I lived across the straight in Victoria, and she’s right!

Moving back to your immigration questions, the only marriage proposal I was offered was secondhand, sort of a “I know a guy who knows a guy who knows a girl sort of thing,” but I already had a job and a visa by then, so it didn’t seem like the kind of thing I really wanted to pursue. As you say, it’s by no means an easy process. I know people who have gone through it, and you have to have a pile of documentation about a mile high, and even then it’s not a guaranteed thing. And, well, this kind of sounds a bit sappy, but I was hoping that if I did decide to get married again–I’m divorced–that this time it would be for keeps. And while it’s not likely that this country is going to get around to legalizing gay marriage anytime soon, if it does happen, I’d like to be available.

In the meantime, I shall continue with my NAFTA visa, which, to answer your question, I discovered solely by accident. When I was preparing to leave Japan, I mentioned to another Canadian friend that I was thinking of moving to the States but was worried about getting a work permit. He mentioned that he’s heard you could get a visa under NAFTA, but didn’t know a lot about them. A little Googling turned up a lot of information, but I decided to retain an attorney to help with the application and get some advice about what kind of schools I should be approaching, who was likely to be approved and who would not be. Basically, getting the visa would be easy, as long as I had a job offer.

Getting a job offer was harder though, and the only reason I have the job I have now is sheer dumb luck. I’d been stumbling around applying for crap jobs off of Craigslist, basically because those were the only ones I thought might take a chance on me. I was having no luck at all though; I’d always get an interview because of my experience and credentials, but when they found out I didn’t have a work authorization, they’d lose interest even though they wouldn’t have to do anything. I think half of them thought I was making shit up. “Yes, we’ll just write you a letter and you’ll be able to instantly come work in the country. And then you can go live with the elves who live under Santa Monica pier!”

Anyway, I started cold calling the different college and university programs, leaving messages to see if they needed adjuncts for the winter semester, since the fall semester had started already. I got an immediate callback from Rachel, my boss, because they’d just had a part-time teacher drop out, and they needed a replacement immediately. Could I come in for an interview the next day? They liked me, I liked them; they didn’t bat an eyelash about the visa thing. The HR department knew what a TN visa was, which was a good sign. So I got my job offer, got on a plane to Vancouver Friday, came back with visa in hand on Sunday, started my job Monday.

I don’t think you have to worry about me not being Canadian anymore. If anything, I feel more Canadian now than when I lived there. Not in a rah –rah, kind of way. I don’t give things a pass just because they’re Canadian. But I do realize that I see things differently than a lot of the people I see every day, even the ones I’m simpatico with. But I don’t mind the differences. I guess when it comes down to it, really, my every day concerns have absolutely nothing to do with being American or being Canadian; I write and draw about queer life and queer identity, attempt to tame the swirling mess of images and ideas churning around inside my brain using pixels and ink. If living here allows me to better achieve that goal, that’s my primary concern; the minute living in America threatens to compromise that, I’ll get the hell out.

xoxo

Steve