Mary in Vancity

When I sat down with Vancouver artist Olivier Salvas to talk about his latest exhibition, The 90s, one thing became clear almost immediately.

This isn’t an exhibition about Tamagotchis, dial-up internet, or MuchMusic.

It’s about something much bigger.

“It’s not about the decade,” Salvas told me. “It’s about the feeling.”

Now showing at Bean Hastings Gallery, The 90s invites visitors into a world of vibrant colour, energy, joy, and collective memory. Through large-scale abstract works and immersive installations, Salvas explores what many of us remember most about our younger years: possibility.

For him, the exhibition is deeply personal.

“It was really about discovering who I was,” he said. “The joy of what my youth was. I want people to experience joy.”

More Than a Trip Down Memory Lane

While the exhibition is inspired by the cultural atmosphere of the 1990s, Salvas isn’t interested in recreating a museum of pop culture references.

In fact, he intentionally moves away from specific cultural icons.

“Cultural icons are different for everyone,” he explained. “I want people to take the feeling and make it their own.”

Instead, the exhibition focuses on emotional touchstones that many Canadians and North Americans share. During our conversation, Salvas laughed while recalling a surprisingly specific memory that inspired the pieces “Summit Code” and “Sneak Peek.”

“The Esso cups,” he said. “Those collectors’ cups with the scenery on them.”

It’s a tiny detail, but it’s exactly the kind of memory that makes The 90s work. Visitors may walk into the gallery and find themselves remembering long-forgotten summer road trips, childhood adventures, favourite songs, or moments that seemed ordinary at the time but became meaningful years later.

The exhibition taps into something universal: collective memory.

Finding Colour in a Black-and-White World

One of the first things visitors will notice is the explosion of colour.

Electric blues. Neon pinks. Bright yellows. Saturated purples.

For Salvas, colour isn’t simply an aesthetic choice. It’s the language of the exhibition.

“Everything is black and white,” he said. “But we’ve stopped seeing in colour.”

The statement feels particularly relevant today. We spend much of our time staring at screens, scrolling through endless feeds, consuming information in quick bursts. Salvas hopes visitors will pause, put down their phones, and reconnect with something deeper.

“I want people to leave their phones behind and find the emotion. Feel the feels. Show up and be together.”

That sense of shared experience is woven throughout the exhibition. One of the key words Salvas returned to repeatedly during our conversation was energy.

Not just visual energy, but human energy.

The energy of being present.

The energy of gathering together.

The energy of remembering what joy feels like.

Pride, Visibility, and Being Seen

Opening during Pride Month adds another layer of meaning to the exhibition.

Salvas, who is openly gay, has explored themes of queer identity, visibility, and social messaging throughout much of his artistic career. His previous work often addressed adversity and the challenges faced by LGBTQ+ communities.

This exhibition takes a different approach.

“Most of my work has been influenced by gay identity and education,” he said. “I use art as a way to carry social messaging.”

But with The 90s, he wanted to focus on something else.

Celebration.

“This one is about the feel,” he explained. “I don’t want to be defined by adversity. I want people to see the whole of me.”

It’s a powerful statement, particularly during Pride Month. While acknowledging the importance of advocacy and representation, Salvas also creates space for joy, community, and the simple act of existing authentically.

The exhibition becomes a reminder that queer stories are not only stories of struggle. They are also stories of happiness, creativity, friendship, love, and belonging.

Art Should Be for Everyone

One of the things I appreciated most during our conversation was Salvas’ commitment to accessibility.

Rather than placing his work behind intimidating gallery walls, he chose to exhibit The 90s in a coffee shop gallery setting.

“It’s a coffee shop and I want to make art accessible,” he said. “I want people to walk in and see it.”

For Salvas, art has increasingly become something that feels exclusive or reserved for collectors and investors.

“Art is becoming so elite,” he said. “I want people to see art not just as an investment. Art carries a message.”

That philosophy is reflected throughout the exhibition. There are no barriers to understanding the work. Visitors are invited to experience it however they choose, bringing their own memories and interpretations into the space.

In many ways, that openness mirrors the exhibition’s larger message.

There is more that connects us than divides us.

“There is so much in common between generations,” Salvas said. “There’s ageism. We don’t take the time to see the bigger picture.”

His hope is that visitors leave with a renewed appreciation not only for themselves, but for each other.

“Celebrate yourself and celebrate others.”

Why The 90s Matters Right Now

As we wrapped up our conversation, Salvas shared something that perfectly captured the spirit of the exhibition.

When choosing colours for his paintings, he isn’t thinking about trends or rules.

He’s thinking about how those colours made him feel as a kid.

Summer.

Fun.

Freedom.

Joy.

And perhaps most importantly, he doesn’t feel the need to justify that joy.

“I don’t have to justify joy.”

That simple statement may be the heart of The 90s.

In a world that often feels heavy, complicated, and divided, Salvas has created a space dedicated to colour, connection, memory, and celebration.

Not because those things are frivolous.

Because they matter.

If You Go

The 90s by Olivier Salvas

• Bean Hastings Gallery
• Now showing during Pride Month

Visitors can also learn more about Salvas’ work through his studio on Granville Island and experience the exhibition in person while enjoying one of Vancouver’s most accessible gallery spaces.

Sometimes a decade is more than a period of time.

Sometimes it’s a feeling.

And sometimes, if you’re lucky, it’s a reminder to see the world in colour again.