Spending the greater portion of this past weekend at the Expanse Movement Arts Festival, I was among a few scores of audience members watching everything from emerging dancers and choreographers to international-calibre dance artists and choreography.
Personally, I find dance in its contemporary form as the most conducive experience that exists purely in the affect between thinking bodies, be it dancer to dancer or dancer to audience or even audience to audience. It is a live art form that exchanges and communicates immediately—or doesn’t—on a plane that is far more reactive than engaging with object-based works. When a piece resonates, that experience can lead to immediate new lines of thought and action for audience and performers alike. When a piece doesn’t work, it’s hard to tell if it’s just you, as unlike visual media, there is a shared audience that politely claps no matter what the outcome.
Only finally, after years of scratching my head at the uniform reception, someone finally noted the general atmosphere was one of apathy. Not in the least surprising, but also alarmingly accurate, this sentiment did not come from an audience member, but from a performer describing the Edmonton audience.
From dance to music to literary to visual arts, apathy or any lack of emotive interest is definitely noted from the sea of crossed arms and stiff upper lips. Some people genuinely enjoy themselves and appreciate the arts, of course, but more often than not they show their agreeability through presence alone.
Rarely the diplomat, I often publicly remark about how much I dislike art. The sentiment is not accrued from encountering any specific works, but is mostly just a general disposition from an apathetic environment. It may not be the art—in whatever form—that is irritating, but the reactions and (lack of) communication it receives and illicits.
Art, in any formation, doesn’t exist in a bubble. It always exists on a multifaceted plane and can be so much more than just selfish construction and consumption. Apathy is the worst response one could wish for, as it’s a sign that, overall, the work hasn’t moved or challenged anything or anyone, for better or for worse.
In the almost seven years since I’ve been a freelance arts writer in this city, shifts have been noted in the development of dialogue within the arts communities, but not so much with its outreach to new audiences.
I have no recollection of when or why I started avidly attending visual art exhibitions specifically, as scoping out visual art in Edmonton was never a priority or even a particularly memorable experience, at least not until I started striking up conversations with increasingly familiar faces. Some of those faces would become friends and associates, and it was a particular interest in the people that led me to wonder why there was not more rigorous support for what each were trying to accomplish. Many state the community here is just too small and nobody wants to step on anybody else’s toes with criticism, but that attitude is more a hindrance to growth to both the relationship as people as it is a block to the relationship to their art. It is out of respect that one should vocalize their opinion, as anything short of that basic human dialogue is a death to expression.
*First published in Vue Weekly, March 5 - 11, 2009
- A.F. Edmonton
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Sylvain Voyer: Survey 1957 - Present, Art Gallery of Alberta, Jan. 17 - March 22, REVIEWED by Mandy Espezel
Sylvain Voyer's artistic roots run deep within the community of Alberta. Born in Edmonton in 1939, he has been making paintings for over 50 years. From his developmental years as a student at the Alberta College of Art in Calgary; to his activist ambitions behind co-founding the artists run centre Latitude 53 with Harry Savage in 1972; to his current role as a much celebrated and successful artist who has attained a mature style; Voyer has consistently been an integral part of Alberta's artistic identity and development.
Image credit: Sylvain Voyer, "Snow Drifts" 1985, 122 x 81 cm, acrylic on masonite. Image courtesy of the AGA.
The Art Gallery of Alberta's retrospective exhibition lays out Voyer's life work in reverse chronological order, so that upon entering, you are first exposed to the well known Canola Field paintings. These works are bright, and very approachable. There is also nothing really challenging about them. Landscape painting is thematically friendly, and I think the AGA knows this, and took full advantage. Which is smart; getting people into the gallery is an important ambition. The strength of the show itself though would have benefited from some editing. Voyer has a keen eye when it comes to composition, and he knows how to make really attractive pictures. But there is a lot of work in those first few rooms that is pleasant to look at--and easy to forget. There are larger dramatic paintings, like "Nice Day in July", and "Ada Boulevard", which are much more experimental, and stand out because of their visual intensity. These paintings seem to be about the boundaries and abilities of paint, as much as they are about depicting fields and skies and trees. This is where Voyer's work remains exciting; when he incorporates the ideas and formal experimentation of his earlier work into the realm of his contemporary representation. He breaks down the picture, keeping enough information to not lose the connection completely.
Image credit: Sylvain Voyer, "Solflower" 1990, 136 x 136 cm, acrylic on canvas. Image courtesy of the AGA.
As you move back through the gallery, paintings remain organized by theme. There is the Winter room, the Tree room, the Edmonton room. Two side galleries hold work done in the 80's when Voyer and his wife began wintering in Mexico. These paintings have strong cultural themes, showing scenes from Mexican villages, incorporating materials and imagery from the surrounding culture. They range between being incredibly endearing to overly ambitious. The smaller paintings feel like studies of local Mexican life and are intimately rendered. They have the same quality of invested time and consideration that Voyer's smaller paintings of local Edmonton landmarks and scenery have. The larger works however, become all about material. He is clearly experimenting, but the massive and elaborate frames feel more obnoxious than cohesive. I understand the intent behind them, but put in comparison with the other work, they are too much.
Then there is the early work from the 60's and 70's. This is when Edmonton's love affair with Flatness begins, and the rest of the art world moved on. Voyer's work from this time shows an incredible awareness of this. There is work that clearly resembles Op-Art; pieces from the "New York, hard - edge" series that concentrate on creating illusionistic and 3D effects with stripes and colour. There is work concerned with ideas about ownership and appropriation. In the "Recycled Art" series Voyer paints on top of pre-existing images, turning the mediocre into inventive and humorous pictures. There are the sculptural and assemblage works, where material is used satirically and perhaps with reverence to the past. "The Guggenheim" from 1979 shows a hanging paint can, covered with a scroll of paper that has images of historic paintings plastered over its curves. "Museum of Modern Art", from the same year, is an arrangement of clear cubes that have these similar art history postcards applied to them. These clear boxes are all contained together under their own plexi-cube. And then there's collage work, where Voyer dices up images and re-assembles them into massive historical mazes.
In this one room at the back of the gallery, there exists endless ideas and jokes and un-inhibited visual experiments. This is the work done by Sylvain Voyer that fascinates and delights me. It is an amazing thing to walk through this show and witness the evolution taken by this one artist, and the range that he has worked to develop. To see where he came from, and how he arrived at the style of painting he is so well known for today. His current paintings may not be my favourite of the exhibition, but that is pretty insignificant. This show is about an artist who has given much of himself to his artistic practice and to his home; one has to respect and admire that journey.
- M.E. Edmonton
Image credit: Sylvain Voyer, "Snow Drifts" 1985, 122 x 81 cm, acrylic on masonite. Image courtesy of the AGA.
The Art Gallery of Alberta's retrospective exhibition lays out Voyer's life work in reverse chronological order, so that upon entering, you are first exposed to the well known Canola Field paintings. These works are bright, and very approachable. There is also nothing really challenging about them. Landscape painting is thematically friendly, and I think the AGA knows this, and took full advantage. Which is smart; getting people into the gallery is an important ambition. The strength of the show itself though would have benefited from some editing. Voyer has a keen eye when it comes to composition, and he knows how to make really attractive pictures. But there is a lot of work in those first few rooms that is pleasant to look at--and easy to forget. There are larger dramatic paintings, like "Nice Day in July", and "Ada Boulevard", which are much more experimental, and stand out because of their visual intensity. These paintings seem to be about the boundaries and abilities of paint, as much as they are about depicting fields and skies and trees. This is where Voyer's work remains exciting; when he incorporates the ideas and formal experimentation of his earlier work into the realm of his contemporary representation. He breaks down the picture, keeping enough information to not lose the connection completely.
Image credit: Sylvain Voyer, "Solflower" 1990, 136 x 136 cm, acrylic on canvas. Image courtesy of the AGA.
As you move back through the gallery, paintings remain organized by theme. There is the Winter room, the Tree room, the Edmonton room. Two side galleries hold work done in the 80's when Voyer and his wife began wintering in Mexico. These paintings have strong cultural themes, showing scenes from Mexican villages, incorporating materials and imagery from the surrounding culture. They range between being incredibly endearing to overly ambitious. The smaller paintings feel like studies of local Mexican life and are intimately rendered. They have the same quality of invested time and consideration that Voyer's smaller paintings of local Edmonton landmarks and scenery have. The larger works however, become all about material. He is clearly experimenting, but the massive and elaborate frames feel more obnoxious than cohesive. I understand the intent behind them, but put in comparison with the other work, they are too much.
Then there is the early work from the 60's and 70's. This is when Edmonton's love affair with Flatness begins, and the rest of the art world moved on. Voyer's work from this time shows an incredible awareness of this. There is work that clearly resembles Op-Art; pieces from the "New York, hard - edge" series that concentrate on creating illusionistic and 3D effects with stripes and colour. There is work concerned with ideas about ownership and appropriation. In the "Recycled Art" series Voyer paints on top of pre-existing images, turning the mediocre into inventive and humorous pictures. There are the sculptural and assemblage works, where material is used satirically and perhaps with reverence to the past. "The Guggenheim" from 1979 shows a hanging paint can, covered with a scroll of paper that has images of historic paintings plastered over its curves. "Museum of Modern Art", from the same year, is an arrangement of clear cubes that have these similar art history postcards applied to them. These clear boxes are all contained together under their own plexi-cube. And then there's collage work, where Voyer dices up images and re-assembles them into massive historical mazes.
In this one room at the back of the gallery, there exists endless ideas and jokes and un-inhibited visual experiments. This is the work done by Sylvain Voyer that fascinates and delights me. It is an amazing thing to walk through this show and witness the evolution taken by this one artist, and the range that he has worked to develop. To see where he came from, and how he arrived at the style of painting he is so well known for today. His current paintings may not be my favourite of the exhibition, but that is pretty insignificant. This show is about an artist who has given much of himself to his artistic practice and to his home; one has to respect and admire that journey.
- M.E. Edmonton
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Diana Thorneycroft, "A Group of Seven Awkward Moments" Skew Gallery, February 19 - March 28, 2009. REVIEWED by Kim Neudorf
Bears, elk, deer and wolves pace wistfully outside of an outdoor hockey game. A hockey player falls through the ice while the remaining players play on indifferently. An ice floe resembles a sublime arctic night ferry. A fisherman floats face downward upon a family fishing scene. A group of beavers have chewed down a totem pole, caught in the act, while a monkey is carried off, unconcerned, by an eagle. An igloo has been set ablaze, looked on by figures frozen in kitschy gift-shop poses of the surprised doll, the howling wolf, and the helpful Mountie. Prints of Group of Seven paintings are backdrops for these scenes in Diana Thorneycroft’s latest series of photographs at Skew in an exhibition titled A Group of Seven Awkward Moments.
Image credit: Diana Thorneycroft "Group Of Seven Awkward Moments (Algonquin Park)", 2007. Courtesy of Skew Gallery.
Continuing the use of figurines and miniature set pieces based upon well known Canadiana via the souvenir and collectible, Thorneycroft focuses upon the deadpan and the slapstick within scenes of thwarted schmaltz. Aside from the tarnished dignity of these recognizable Canadian figures, what works in these photographs is the overall way that these manufactured actors ‘play it straight’ within scenes of often harrowing situations. This speaks to the widely-accepted, phony veneer and formulaic ‘realism’ within the depiction of violence in the TV drama and cinematic blockbuster.
The most successful photographs in Thorneycroft’s series pushes this awareness of overacting into corners or allows for dark and risky humor. The photograph '(Mirror Lake)' skips the full frontal iconic for the spotlit eeriness of the diorama’s frozen emptiness, wherein two approaching bears are out of focus and creepily 'snapshot', while two fishermen reel in the night’s catch with an unawareness resembling a scene from ‘Jaws’. ‘(Algonquin Park)’ finds the right balance of awkward indifference, earnest overacting, and slapstick horror within a well-lit winter woodland scene. Several children in parkas and toques react to the well-known, not necessarily Canadian myth of the danger of licking a frozen metal post. One child bends over in hokey awe as another child attempts the forbidden initiation, despite the fact that several oversize, truncated tongues hang fixed to the outer side of the post. A trail of blood leads to the suggestion of a failed (or ‘successful’) attempt, while a crowd of children have created a circle around a dazed but delighted child, sans tongue. An RCMP officer skis by with jaunty self-absorption, while another child watches with arms crossed, practically rolling his eyes.
- K.N. Calgary
Image credit: Diana Thorneycroft "Group Of Seven Awkward Moments (Algonquin Park)", 2007. Courtesy of Skew Gallery.
Continuing the use of figurines and miniature set pieces based upon well known Canadiana via the souvenir and collectible, Thorneycroft focuses upon the deadpan and the slapstick within scenes of thwarted schmaltz. Aside from the tarnished dignity of these recognizable Canadian figures, what works in these photographs is the overall way that these manufactured actors ‘play it straight’ within scenes of often harrowing situations. This speaks to the widely-accepted, phony veneer and formulaic ‘realism’ within the depiction of violence in the TV drama and cinematic blockbuster.
The most successful photographs in Thorneycroft’s series pushes this awareness of overacting into corners or allows for dark and risky humor. The photograph '(Mirror Lake)' skips the full frontal iconic for the spotlit eeriness of the diorama’s frozen emptiness, wherein two approaching bears are out of focus and creepily 'snapshot', while two fishermen reel in the night’s catch with an unawareness resembling a scene from ‘Jaws’. ‘(Algonquin Park)’ finds the right balance of awkward indifference, earnest overacting, and slapstick horror within a well-lit winter woodland scene. Several children in parkas and toques react to the well-known, not necessarily Canadian myth of the danger of licking a frozen metal post. One child bends over in hokey awe as another child attempts the forbidden initiation, despite the fact that several oversize, truncated tongues hang fixed to the outer side of the post. A trail of blood leads to the suggestion of a failed (or ‘successful’) attempt, while a crowd of children have created a circle around a dazed but delighted child, sans tongue. An RCMP officer skis by with jaunty self-absorption, while another child watches with arms crossed, practically rolling his eyes.
- K.N. Calgary
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