Fish out of water, sailboat on land.
Serving drinks on Wednesday evening, I understand.
I wonder what cocktails he has planned?
Allow me to correct myself, sailboat in a museum.
I presume that Mr. Baldwin knows how to carpe-diem,
Everytime I saw it, it seemed more like a mausoleum.
I can’t figure out the “h,” maybe he didn’t know in French it’s “Barbade.”
Getting it into the space must have been an interesting feat.
English-style rum (sans le “h”) isn’t half bad.
When it comes from Martinique or Haiti it can be sipped neat.
Bruits de fond translates into English as background noise.
To make it work four pairs of headphones is what it employs.
When I listened to them on the benches I discovered that it annoys.
Mumble mumble, gurgle gurgle, tweet tweet
Natural background noise can be very sweet.
When computer generated I want to hit delete.
The headphones had wires,
The benches were hard.
The MACM needs iPod suppliers
Sitting in one place for 25 minutes is not avant guard.
I presume that the dawn chorus sings thirty-one times
Cause I didn’t stick around longer than it took to find some rhymes
Watching an orange pretend to be a sun is not a victimless crime.
An orange blob moving slowly from bottom to top
With a dull throbbing noise that just wouldn’t stop
My eyes glazed over and my head began to drop.
Jean-Pierre Aubé is probably a really nice guy
But he uses way too much technology
More than enough cables and gadgets to get by
Next time I see him, I’m asking for an apology.
Numa amun; artist in the Triennale Quebecoise
Did an anatomical drawing that was
An isometric cross section of a face that made people pause.
Done up in green
Felt more than seen
Could’ve been made by machine.
The others in the series
Were drawings of other body parts stuck on a wall
There must’ve been theories
Because Citadelle des sens didn’t impress me at all.
Montreal’s bureau d’art public has a Facebook page where they announce things (why they don’t do it on their website, I have no clue! Kind of like buying a Cadillac and then leaving it at home at taking taxis everywhere). And recently they’ve been publicizing the repairs that have been done on various pieces in the city’s collection.
Somehow, someone decided to prioritize the sculptures in Lachine over a sculpture on Sherbrooke. My best guess would be that Obélisque en hommage à Charles De Gaulle gets seen by at least ten times as many people each day, if not 50 times more people.
Obélisque en hommage à Charles de Gaulle by Olivier DebréObélisque en hommage à Charles de Gaulle by Olivier DebréObélisque en hommage à Charles de Gaulle by Olivier DebréObélisque en hommage à Charles de Gaulle by Olivier Debré
If you squint, it looks kind of like an elongated tank trap.
Detail of Obélisque en hommage à Charles de Gaulle by Olivier Debré
I have no idea what the blue means either. Doing just cursory research it doesn’t appear that the The French Resistance had any one color, just a Cross of Lorraine added to the bleu, blanc, rouge.
Detail of Obélisque en hommage à Charles de Gaulle by Olivier DebréWestern Plaque for Obélisque en hommage à Charles de Gaulle by Olivier Debré
I think that this is wrong. De Gaulle did say “Let us be firm, pure and faithful; at the end of our sorrow, there is the greatest glory of the world, that of the men who did not give in.” But I don’t think he said it in Brazzaville in 1941, I think he said it in Algiers in 1943.
Eastern Plaque for Obélisque en hommage à Charles de Gaulle by Olivier Debré
Explaining who made it, and that it was a gift in honor of both the 375 birthday of the city of Montreal and De Gaulle’s centenary.
Bench for Obélisque en hommage à Charles de Gaulle by Olivier Debré
Gotta love the bureaucrat who decided how to deal with the skateboarders.
Lights for Obélisque en hommage à Charles de Gaulle by Olivier DebréLights for Obélisque en hommage à Charles de Gaulle by Olivier DebréLights for Obélisque en hommage à Charles de Gaulle by Olivier Debré
And I can’t imagine it would be that difficult or expensive to fix the lights…
And then if you’re interested… the De Gaulle moment in Montreal.
A piece of art made by some former student at Concordia UniversityA piece of art made by some former student at Concordia UniversityA piece of art made by some former student at Concordia University
In front of the VAV building at the corner of René Lévesque and Crescent. It’s been there for at least half a dozen years (although I must admit, that my memory is sketchy at best). And while Concordia University is awesome at labeling at promoting officially sanctioned public art, they’re not so hot at older stuff that isn’t quite as officially sanctioned.
I presume that this was a piece made by a former student, and because it was so big someone thought it would work in the courtyard in front of the VAV building, but because it was a student project, the tag, explaining who, when and what either got forgotten or wasn’t made due to a lack of budget.
I like how it flips the “traditional” sense of street art on its head. The graffiti is embossed in the concrete and not painted on the fence. Although I’m not certain that the fence itself is supposed to have that bite taken out of it on the top (insert snarky comment about Concordia also not taking care of officially sanctioned public art here). I’m certain that if I did some research I could also find some details about the style and make of the fence, and when cast concrete barriers started to become prevalent and try to make some connections between the two. And then there’s the irony of it being placed outside of the actual fence marking where the courtyard ends.
Le jardin punk by Roger GaudreauLe jardin punk by Roger Gaudreau
In the spring and summer, the grass does not get mowed so you need to look close in order to find it.
Le jardin punk by Roger GaudreauLe jardin punk by Roger Gaudreau
And while Le jardin punk is fine as a name, I think I would have preferred if M. Gaudreau had punned off of Rocher-Percé in the Gaspé.
Le jardin punk by Roger GaudreauLe jardin punk by Roger GaudreauLe jardin punk by Roger GaudreauLe jardin punk by Roger GaudreauLe jardin punk by Roger GaudreauLe jardin punk by Roger GaudreauLa forêt civilisée by Roger Gaudreau
I’m not as much of a fan of this as I am of Le jardin punk.
La forêt civilisée by Roger GaudreauLa forêt civilisée by Roger Gaudreau
To me it only works as a foil.
La forêt civilisée by Roger GaudreauLa forêt civilisée by Roger GaudreauLa forêt civilisée by Roger GaudreauLa forêt civilisée by Roger GaudreauLa forêt civilisée by Roger GaudreauLa forêt civilisée by Roger Gaudreau
If you’ve been reading the previous parts, you probably think that I’m not a big fan of The Triennale québécoise 2011. How ’bout I start moving the pendulum in the other direction and talk about some kick-ass art? Stuff that is worth the price of admission ($12 last time I checked, but did you realize that the admission to the Musée d’art contemporain de Montréal has gone up 50% in the past four years? Way more than inflation, it used to be one of the bargains in the city, now I think twice about what they are showing before giving them money, but I digress). Two words: Charles Stankievech.
Back in 2007 I saw something of his called Timbral and was pretty gosh darn impressed. Something about felt and banging away on a piano always makes me go weak in the knees.
Then I heard something about him going to the Yukon and kind of thought to myself (quietly) that making a trip up there to see his work was perhaps, a little bit too far to go – but you never know. I know some people up north, and stranger things have happened. But basically didn’t give him much thought, following the standard issue cliche, out of sight, out of mind.
But lets backtrack for an instant. If, upon entering the Musée d’art contemporain de Montréal, after buying your ticket, you take the stairs (and yes, I will talk about Dean Baldwin’s boat, later), turn to your right (and yes, I will talk about Thérèse Mastroiacovo‘s work, later too) and then right again, Charles Stankievech’s piece is going to be something like the fifth one you see. If you take that route it’s the first one that gets its own room. (There are eight basic routes you can take through the Triennal.) You can’t miss it.
As you walk in there is a recessed shelf, with an open copy of The Purple Cloud by M. P. Shiel glassed in with a purple/pink/rose colored light, open the door, turn the corner and there you are. Smack dab in front of a wall-sized video of an exploded smoke grenade in, what I presume is, the Yukon.
When I saw it, I lucked out in my timing (the whole piece is maybe 5 minutes long, if it’s lucky) in that as I walked in, the smoke grenade had just been detonated and the purple cloud that spewed from it was still a long way off in the distance.
As I sat there, the smoke gradually was blown towards the camera, until it covered the entire screen, and then dispersed. Simple enough, right? Well, maybe, but not so fast.
First there is the score by Tim Hecker, a very low rumbling, kind of like what you would imagine something like a convoy of really big trucks would make if you put your ear to the wall of a tunnel they were in, combined with something that sounds like a methadone induced bird call along with some sort of vaguely ethereal and shimmery orchestral effect. Probably better if you were to go and listen to it yourself.
The score is so effective, that I would almost go so far as to say that it should be called a piece by Mr. Hecker with video done by Mr. Stankievech. Almost.
Second, after doing some cursory research into the book, it turns out that it’s all about the last man on earth, who just so happens to be at the North Pole, and that a purple cloud has been the reason that everyone died.
I’m not quite certain what to make of all these antecedents. But it gives me pause. I’m not as convinced that Kirby and Olitski are as significant as Shiel, but that might come from a lack of first hand knowledge of either one, and somehow I wish Mr. Stankievech and Mr. Hecker could have somehow incorporated Charles Wright into the mix.
Despite what I want, the piece is called Loveland. It’s one of the more compelling piece in the Triennal. Part of the reason it is so compelling is due to the the low rumble of the soundtrack which gives a sense of foreboding. This sense of foreboding is reinforced by the movement of the purple cloud towards the camera. And then toss in the rather bleak Yukon landscape, and you can’t help but think that something, most likely bad, is going to happen. It is that sensation that that keeps you riveted. It was the combination of effects that made me feel like I was someplace else, in some hazy dream/nightmare-in-waiting.
I’m certain that I could go on at length about some sort of doomsday/last person on earth scenario along with amorphous purple forms that swallow everything, but that would require reading the book and playing the game, both of which while I’m certain would be entertaining aren’t exactly high on my list of things to do. So I won’t. I’ll leave that for some future PhD. student, I’d much rather watch Loveland.
Basically, art makes you think, good art makes you think hard, and very good art makes you think long and hard. I’ve spent most of the past four days thinking hard about Mr. Stankievech’s Loveland…
And then finally, so that the research wasn’t all for naught, here are some other songs called Loveland that I was able to find on YouTube.
