AI-assisted works can get copyright with enough human creativity, says US copyright office

Winnipeg-produced podcast Careers Under Construction keeps rolling for Pederson Group

It could have been the CEO’s corner office or a boardroom, but instead it’s a media production studio.

Eight storeys above the corner of Portage Avenue and Main Street, the 300-square-foot room in the Pederson Group’s headquarters at 201 Portage Ave. is outfitted with comfortable chairs, a plant and black drapes that block out natural light and control the acoustics.

There are three video cameras, two computers, a few microphones and a variety of portable video lights. All told, the equipment is worth more than $70,000.

It’s here where two of the Winnipeg recruitment firm’s five staff members — Justis Pederson, president and CEO, and Cassie Bezan, director of creative communications — produce Careers Under Construction, a weekly, hour-long podcast featuring interviews Pederson conducts with Manitoba business people.

Exhibition examines the bonds we make with humanoid objects

For the past few years, Winnipeg visual artist Emilie St-Hilaire has been fascinated by the way humans relate to artificial bodies — dolls, robots, mannequins — through play, care and connection, and how those synthetic relationships can produce very real emotions in humans.

Objects of Fidelity: Barbies, bots, bébés, her solo exhibition on view now at La Maison des artistes visuels francophones, explores this space between object and companion. It’s what she calls the “visual culmination” of work that began with her 2024 PhD dissertation at Concordia University in Montreal, which examined Reborn Dolls — hyper-realistic art dolls that resemble newborns — from a feminist perspective.

But when a robot included in the exhibition started malfunctioning and giving signs that it was at the end of its life, St-Hilaire was given a new question to puzzle: what does it mean for a robot, or any other artificial body, to “die”?

To understand that, one must first understand how these human attachments to humanlike objects form in the first place.

Sunday-night auto aficionados work to steer away from unwelcome elements they say aren’t a part of their tradition

The red 1969 Dodge Coronet Super Bee out for a cruise on Portage Avenue draws admiring eyes from onlookers on a recent Sunday night, many of them seeing a specimen of the now-rare muscle car for the first time on a Winnipeg street. Or any other street, for that matter.

Longtime car enthusiast Bob Sudoma was behind the wheel, participating in the decades-old show-offy summer tradition.

The Sunday night cruise is built around a simple idea: proud car owners take their beloved vehicles for a spin to meet up with others of the same autophile ilk.

Less-fortunate appreciators, or just curious folks, also gather along the route to watch the highly-polished parade. Portage Avenue is one of cruise night’s best-known stretches.

Artist’s inspired work brings Red River Métis story back to Portage and Main

Jennine Krauchi calls them the “grandmothers.” “They speak to you very silently. You never hear a word, but they speak,” Krauchi says, referring to the antique pieces of Métis needlework she’s carefully studied for years. But there are few precedents for her latest art project: a 85-foot-wide by 32-foot-high chain curtain of Métis needlework that drapes over the historic Bank of Montreal’s neoclassical facade.

Canadians loving Carney’s decision to stand tall against floundering U.S. bully

It’s hard to imagine a more dramatic political contrast than the one unfolding on opposite sides of the Canada-U.S. border.

Mark Carney is fighting a trade war with Donald Trump, taking the occasional verbal punch from the American president and imposing retaliatory tariffs on U.S. products.

And the prime minister is being rewarded for it politically.

Trump, meanwhile, is fighting pretty much everyone he can find — including some of America’s closest allies — and his own voters are increasingly giving him the political equivalent of a raised middle finger. That’s quite a tale of two leaders.