Opening Reception

May 9, 6 - 9 pm

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Every year the Calgary Stampede rolls around, I ask myself: should I go get a corn dog?

When I was first asked to do this project, I immediately knew I wanted to explore the Stampede. It started as a way for me to examine my complex relationship with the event—especially as someone who has lived in Calgary most of my life and came out as trans at an older age. I've always felt uneasy about this massive celebration of heteronormativity and patriarchy, but I never fully took the time to process why.

My discomfort was reinforced the year before I came out, when I saw a 14-year-old boy walking around with a full-body sign that read, “There are only two genders: cowboy and cowgirl.” That moment, among others, made me realize how unwelcoming the Stampede could be for many—especially for queer people and minority groups.

As I began planning this piece, I stumbled upon Kimberly A. Williams’ book Stampede, which offers a feminist analysis of the event. It confirmed much of what I had suspected but ignored for years. At its core, the Stampede is an event largely funded by oil companies, catering to corporate employees—primarily white men and women, many of whom still adhere to traditional, often misogynistic, values.

As I’ve become more aware of the world’s struggles, events like the Stampede feel more dystopian. It’s an occasion rooted in hyper-consumption: alcohol, sex, food, and the conquest of resources, land, and women. But the question lingers—what are we still trying to conquer? Our planet is on fire, resources are dwindling, and we can’t keep consuming the way we have. We literally and metaphorically need to get off this ride at some point.

Yet, during the Stampede, it seems like the world’s problems are ignored, and people keep moving forward without acknowledging the state of things. Our government refuses to diversify from oil, leaving us dependent on a finite resource. Meanwhile, the houseless population grows, and political leaders like Danielle Smith seek to privatize healthcare and undermine the rights of trans people.

Despite all of this, I still find myself shopping for cute cowboy boots and a dress to wear to the Stampede, dreaming of that corn dog. It’s a reflection of the ugliness of capitalism, and how it makes us feel the need to conform—to fit in. We are conditioned to crave the very things that harm us, to find comfort in a system that doesn’t serve everyone equally.

You can’t have your corn dog and eat it too.
So, with this piece, I ask: When does fun stop being fun?

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‍This project was funded by the Alberta Arts Foundation.

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Frankie Elouise (she/her) is a trans-feminine multidisciplinary artist based in Mohkinstsis (Calgary, AB). Specializing in large-scale, narrative-driven figure paintings, she explores the constructs of femininity, community, and capitalism—questioning how these forces shape our identities.

Frankie’s artistic career began with tattooing, where she co-founded a studio that offered an inclusive space for contemporary, non-traditional work. While tattooing allowed her to explore self-expression, painting has become the medium through which she delves deeper into both her own identity and the world around her.

Her painting practice—now her primary focus—started two years ago and, like the rest of her work, is self-taught and nurtured through community support.

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