Category Archives: Ramble

Gamaka by Shantala Shivalingappa

Howdy!

Last week I went to see the first of two very different (or what I have been told will be very different) shows put on by Shantala Shivalingappa. From the promotional material produced by the promoters, Danse Danse, I got an idea that the first show was going to be some kind of Indian Classical Dance. But like Brian Seibert I haven’t seen much Indian Classical Dance. However, as I read his review before going to see Ms. Shivalingappa (normally I try to avoid doing things like that, tabula rasa, low expectations, etc.)

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nIDLC8M4R28

I got kind of excited, as I imagine anyone holding tickets to a performance would feel after reading the review. And after seeing Ms. Shivalingappa I can kind of understand what Mr. Seibert saw and why he got so excited, although I think I need to develop some sort of deeper understanding of Kuchipudi before I end up going overboard like he did.

These are excerpts from the program I think that he saw. As far as my memory (which shouldn’t be trusted, and my notes which should) there were changes made to the program for the performance in Montreal.

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tDp5cDZzLpA

Since it is unlikely that I am going to instantaneously develop a deeper understanding of Kuchipudi (go on, say it outloud, it’s a great word, way better spoken than read) I’m going to have to rely on what I can find on the good old internet. Here, and here with video examples, unusually, the wikipedia page is useless.

In a nutshell, it’s old, very old. It got saved from obscurity by this dude Vempati Chinna Satyam, there are very specific movements that have lots of significance. And to my eyes it shares an awful lot with folk dancing.

I could probably spend the rest of my life studying Kuchipudi, but I think it would be better spent, at least in the near future, by actually trying to describe Ms. Shivalingappa’s movements and more importantly what her movements made me think and feel.

Because in doing the research, I realized that the way that I normally approach dance was completely bassackwards. Where I normally try to go in with absolutely no expectations, refusing to read the program or press releases until after the preformance, I should not have done that this time.

Each and every one of Ms. Shivalingappa’s dances told a story, but stupid me, didn’t pay attention while the story was being explained, so where she was trying to make it fairly simple for me to understand, I instead insisted on keeping my blinders on, being pigheaded and insisting that I knew best.

Yeah, right! Remind me next time.

Since I refused to follow the stories, all I had left was trying to understand the movements, which in and of themselves are incredibly simple. So simple, that I am convinced, 100% certain that my almost two year old nephew could do them. Just in case you missed it the first time around, go back and watch this video.

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tDp5cDZzLpA

You see? There isn’t anything terrible complex. Some moves like she’s telling me that she’ll call me, a couple of others like a football player blocking, or when she extends her arms from the blocking position, like a football cheerleader (minus the pom-poms).

But then if you compare it to another Kuchipudi performance

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8MfR7LOxV-A

You can pretty much completely glom what makes Ms. Shivalingappa’s performance and by extension Ms. Shivalingappa special. I can talk all I want until I am blue in the face about execution, but unless you can see and compare for yourself, all I’m going to be, in the end, is blue in the face (although since I’ve stopped smoking, it takes a lot longer…)

Now to go back a little bit, there was one point in Out of White where Francine Liboiron did something incredible and amazing with her legs while lying on the floor. While I am incapable of describing what she did (somehow, “twisting and turning her legs” just doesn’t cut it) I can remember the sensation (sort of like a combination of my breath just stopping, my chin hitting the floor and wiping my eyes after it was done to make sure I was not seeing things).

httpv://youtu.be/tDp5cDZzLpA?t=5m28s

Well it happened again. And again, “twisting and turning her hands” just won’t cut it. But this time I found myself cursing the cameraman who just was too slow to catch the moment. Thankfully I got to see it in person, and it did take my breath away, I have the bruise on my chin and my eyes did get rubbed. If you have a chance run, don’t walk to see Ms. Shivalingappa do her Kuchipudi thing.

And while Kuchipudi, to my eye, doesn’t have or do anything terribly complex, as I said, it’s kind of like folk dancing. But after having spent weeks, days, hours, a little bit of time doing some research on the internet, I gotta admit the head, neck and eye moves involved in Kuchipudi really turn my crank.

I know how to shake my head from side to side, normally I do it about seventeen dozen times a day (despite being a positive person, historically my first response is always “no.”) but one thing I have never been able to figure out is that side to side head shake where your head doesn’t pivot on your neck, but more, slides along your shoulders. It is a stereotypical move for Indian Dance, although I have no freaking clue how it fits into the Kuchipudi tradition. Well, anytime, any y-chromosome challenged person does that head slide, I get all weak in the knees, my body pretty much turns to jelly and I will gladly follow she who can slide her head along her shoulders just about anywhere. That all being said, Ms. Shivalingappa’s head slides just about had me melting into my seat.

There are these videos of Ms. Shivalingappa from eight years ago

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SITnAVWw9uo

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B0-OuF2u0Rw

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oGIy6aYKiu4

I’m not certain where I was in 2003, but I wish I would have been there. As it is, I’m going to have to satisfy myself by wishing that I could write as well as Joan Acocella; not only does she know scads more about Kuchipudi and Ms. Shivalingappa, but I wish I could describe a sari half as well as she does.

And then finally, if you’d like some background on why Ms. Shivalingappa does what she does so spectacularly, there is this interview with her mom

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QYYFIM99kk8

For what it is worth, I’ve got some expectations about her non-classical Indian dance performance coming up.

What’s missing from the 2012 Mixeur Guides

Howdy!

On Monday I was invited to the launch party for the 2012 Mixeurs Guides. This year they decided to publish two, one for restaurants and a second one for bakeries. And while they are all fine and dandy (in the interest of full disclosure, I know Jean-Philippe Tastet from having served on a burger jury with him) they missed a couple of places.

Restaurants, in alphabetical order:
Chez Delmo, 275 Notre-Dame O. (514) 288-4288
Jane, 1744 Notre-Dame O. (514) 759-6498
Nouveau Palais, 281 Bernard O. (514) 273-1180
Renoir, 1155 Sherbrooke O. (514) 788-3038
Le Valois, 3811 Ontario E. (514) 528-0202
Vegera, 228 Bernard O. (514) 490-9444

And then while I’m not a big fan, I’m also surprised by the exclusion of L’Orignal, Européa, Da Emma and that they didn’t mention Bienville sur Chabanel in the description of Bistro Bienville.

Then since they decided to cap the list at 100, I figure it’s only fair that I mention the nine places I wouldn’t have included: Big in Japan, Dominion Square Tavern, Byblos, Gandhi, Holder, Le Cartet, m:brgr, Soupesoup, and sadly La Terrasse Justine went bankrupt back in September.

And as long as I’m at it, they should have added an index for restaurants open at lunch and apparently Olive & Gourmando is both a restaurant and a bakery as makes it into both the restaurant and the bakery books.

Speaking of the bakery book, there are large glaring holes in it as well. First and most importantly it focuses exclusively on European (read: French) Bakeries. Not a single Italian, Jewish, Lebanese, Australian, Indian, Portuguese, Polish or German bakery is listed. To me this is an egregious error.

Secondly, while its title is “adresses gourmandes” which loosely translates into places to get fine food, they also miss out on butchers, grocers, fish mongers, cheese shops, and delicatessens. To me this isn’t as bad, but it would have been better if they changed the title to more accurately reflect the content.

Since Mondays are traditionally the days that bakeries are closed, it would have been simple enough to include an “open Mondays” index in the bakery book, just like they did in the restaurant one.

And then finally, I think that they should add one more title to the line, casse croutes. I think I know someone who would be perfect for the job…

I gotta remember to talk to Sylvie Berkowicz and Jean-Philippe before they start working on next year’s.

J’aimerais pouvoir rire by and with Angela Laurier

Howdy!

I’m not certain which “Family Affair” is more appropriate. The one by Sly and the Family Stone

Or the one starring Brian Keith, Sebastian Cabot, Kathy Garver, Anissa Jones and Johnny Whitaker.

Or It’s Just Wrong from the Howard Stern Show.

OK, let me backtrack a little bit. Last Wednesday I went to Usine C to see a performance by Angela Laurier. She’s a contortionist, who also used to be a child performer on TV in Canada

In between being a child performer on TV in Canada and mounting her second traveling contortionist stage show she worked for a bunch of different circuses (circii?), did some Shakespeare for Robert Lepage and a whack of other pretty impressive stuff that I did not know until after the show.

This was/is the third show (I think) that she has made having to deal with her family (I didn’t see Mon Grand Frère, but I did see Déversoir [spillway for the squareheads in the house] and there might be others that I am not aware of) but the first with her family. Besides Ms. Laurier, her brother Dominique acts in it, her sister Lucie directed it, and another sister, Charlotte did some filming for the show.

Apparently most of this is common knowledge to fans of Quebecois theatre. But as I am a bloke, it was all news to me. I’m not a big fan of theatre to begin with, and French theatre even less so. I’m not certain how to handle it. On one side, I’d like to think that each and every performance stands on its own merits and is independent of anything else, and as a consequence I’ve almost kind of been able to to train myself to to go into any performance without any expectations. On the other side, I’m kind of miffed, or maybe surprised, at myself. I would have figured that I would have been more aware of Ms. Laurier’s ranking within the galaxy of Quebecois vedettes. But obviously I don’t.

But enough of the backstory. What about the show itself?

I was surprised that it wasn’t a full house, I’ve kind of gotten used to the concept that opening nights for dance shows (of dance-like shows) have fannies in every seat. I’m not certain what to think. Is it a case where they couldn’t find people? Or did they decide that paying customers were more important? The stage was covered in some sort of white cloth with what looked like two skate ramps at either end. Which I promptly forgot when the lights went down. Because my notes read: “smoke machine, way cool.”

In retrospect the Laurier sisters had come up with a “way cool” effect. One of the “skate ramps” was something like in industrial fan, which then blew air underneath the white cloth, making it ripple quite fast, which in turn in the darkness made it look like smoke from dry ice streaming across the stage. I need to remember that for the next time I do something on stage.

I identified eight separate parts. I’m not certain if I would go so far as to classify them as scenes or acts. Perhaps if I wanted to get fancy, vignettes. But I think I’m most comfortable with “parts.”

In the first part, Angela Laurier is underneath the cloth on one of the things that I was calling a skate ramp. In this case it wasn’t a fan either, but a pedestal with a recessed spotlight, so the shadows cast as Ms. Laurier contorts underneath the cloth are not only quite dramatic, but also not that easy to decipher. Kind of like a living x-ray, if you get my drift.

Angela Laurier in J'aimerais pouvoir rire, phot by Gilles lefrancq
Angela Laurier in J'aimerais pouvoir rire, phot by Gilles lefrancq

In the second part, she comes out from underneath the cloth and continues contorting. (Unlike dance, where I know the words like plié and pirouette but don’t quite know how to use them to describe the action on stage, I don’t even know a single contorting term, so you’re just going to have to bear with me on this.) For some reason or another, I thought she kind of looked like a young Elizabeth Taylor.

Elizabeth Taylor photo copped from toptenz.net
Elizabeth Taylor photo copped from toptenz.net

But now upon looking at pictures of Elizabeth Taylor, I think I should modify it slightly so that the word “glamorous” is involved as well.

She alternates between underneath the cloth and not underneath the cloth moving and contorting in ways that I would have never thought off. At one point she “walks” with her legs straight up in the air, kind of like you’d imagine a double amputee would “walk.” There’s another time where she balances on the edge of the pedestal upside down. In between there are moments where it looks like she might be masturbating, or posing like a bodybuilder.

While all of this is happening she’s dressed in a pair of skin colored shorts and the soundtrack is for the most part some sort of looped guitar.

Then she hops off the pedestal and rolls it off stage. A video that is some kind of family photo album (a sure sign that it is a new and different part) starts. Her brother (or what I presume is her brother as I have never spoken to him) talks over the video, explaining himself. There are some humorous moments (there are nine Laurier siblings) and an early ballet recital by Ms. Laurier. The video is projected on a scrim and as it finishes there are these large shadows projected on it just before it drops, and Ms. Laurier and her brother Dominique are seated and clothed. There’s a second scrim behind them where it becomes possible to see a band playing. And then it starts to get weird.

Ms. Laurier and Mr. Laurier start walking around in circles, sit back down, she moves the chairs loudly, and then starts spinning her hands around like a windmill. As she’s spinning her hands they begin to get very red. Unfortunately I can’t find any video to accurately give you an idea of what she does with her hands. And I have no idea if it is due to something having to do with all the blood in her arms moving to her hands because of the centrifugal force. Or if there is some sort of fancy lighting effect being used (Richard Croisé gets credit as the lighting director, and he is pretty gosh-darn good). She then continues in what I noted were probably extremely difficult movements.

There’s a duet of sorts between Ms. Laurier and Mr. Laurier, which strangely enough got applause from the audience. And then another video, this time not some family slide show, but of Ms. Laurier heavily oiled up and contorting. It’s a very disorienting video, where I found myself not always certain of what body part I was looking at. Some more people walked out at this point (I didn’t note down when the first couple left, sorry).

And then it goes over the top. As I wrote, Ms. Laurier is “in a sheet with dramatic lighting and a reverse shadow time lapse something or other.” No, even now I have no clue what it was that I actually saw. I’m convinced that it was interesting and well done. I just for the life of me can’t figure out what exactly was happening as it was happening. (I told you Richard Croisé was pretty gosh darn good at what he did.) There’s something where Mr. Laurier is drawing on something where Ms. Laurier is moving, but you can see something else that might be Ms. Laurier, or might be something else. Suffice it to say, I was both very impressed and very confused. And then it’s over.

I’m not quite certain what J’aimerais pouvoir rire is exactly about, other than family is complicated. (And sorry, for the squareheads reading, I should have translated the title much earlier; it means “I’d like to be able to laugh.”) I’m always transfixed by Ms. Laurier’s productions for a variety of reasons. One is the extremely simple fact that contortionists are like the proverbial three-headed goat. You gotta look. The second is that for the most part I’ve been brought up to view contortionists as part of the “freak side show.” This is due to the three-headed goat effect, and because there hasn’t been any tradition of using contortion to tell a story. Much like a statue, contortionists are there to be looked at. However, Ms. Laurier’s productions are not “freak side shows.” They definitely have a story to tell, it’s just that I haven’t quite figured out how to interpret the method that she is using to tell the story. Almost like listening to someone read a poem out loud in a foreign language, or using your hands to understand a sculpture.

The Colorectal Cancer Association of Canada’s An Evening of Luxury

Howdy!

On Tuesday I was invited to The Colorectal Cancer Association of Canada‘s fundraising event called An Evening of Luxury.

I’d never been to a fashion show before, but after writing about Outfits from a New Era (Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four and Part Five), Les Ballets Russes de Diaghilev and the Arlette Vermeiren Zucoli exhibit, I figured it was not only high time, but could be a learning experience as well.

Empty room at Le Windsor before the Lundström fashion show to benefit the Colorectal Cancer Association of Canada
Empty room at Le Windsor before the Lundström fashion show to benefit the Colorectal Cancer Association of Canada

I wasn’t quite certain what to expect, but I figured despite my looking like a fish out of water, whatever happened it was unlikely to hurt, and as it was for a cause, maybe it would help my karma point score.

The Backdrop for Photographs of Important People
The Backdrop for Photographs of Important People

I wasn’t important enough to have anyone ask to take my picture, but I did manage to bumble my way through the event using mine, although I almost ran out of battery power.

The Heavy Organza Dress in Fuschia from the Lundström Fall 2012 Collection
The Heavy Organza Dress in Fuschia from the Lundström Fall 2012 Collection

As it was a fancy fundraiser, there were lots of folk dressed to the nines. Most of the early part of the evening was dedicated to wine and finger food. There was a silent auction and a live auction and I was told that the tickets cost $350/ch.

From the Lundström Fall 2012 Collection
From the Lundström Fall 2012 Collection

According to the program there were 33 outfits, although I was unable to keep track of everything as the models sashayed by. I also was quite struck by how all the models seemed to have the same expression on their face and how they appeared angry or unhappy.

The Lundström Fall 2012 Collection
The Lundström Fall 2012 Collection
The Lundström Fall 2012 Collection
The Lundström Fall 2012 Collection
The Lundström Fall 2012 Collection
The Lundström Fall 2012 Collection
The Lundström Fall 2012 Collection
The Lundström Fall 2012 Collection
The Lundström Fall 2012 Collection
The Lundström Fall 2012 Collection
The Lundström Fall 2012 Collection
The Lundström Fall 2012 Collection

Before I go to another fashion show, I’m going to have to learn what tulle, ponte di roma, lurex, dupioni and a lot of other technical terms mean. It also seems that the fashion industry and the art world aren’t exactly in sync when it comes to definitions of colors.

Glitter La Parka in Black from the Lundström Fall 2012 Collection
Glitter La Parka in Black from the Lundström Fall 2012 Collection
Glitter La Parka in Black from the Lundström Fall 2012 Collection
Glitter La Parka in Black from the Lundström Fall 2012 Collection

The show stopper.

But really what caught my eye were the shoes that were worn to the event. I’m fairly certain that more than one person thought I had a foot fetish, but I digress.

Shoes
Shoes
Shoes
Shoes
Shoes
Shoes
Shoes
Shoes
Shoes
Shoes
Shoes
Shoes
Shoes
Shoes
Shoes
Shoes
Shoes
Shoes
Shoes
Shoes
Shoes
Shoes
Shoes
Shoes
Shoes
Shoes
Shoes
Shoes
Comfortable Shoes
Comfortable Shoes
Boots
Boots
Stockings
Stockings

They raised about $160,000 at the event, and if you want to know more about The Colorectal Cancer Association of Canada, click here. If you want to know more about Colorectal Cancer, click on this. If you want more information on the Lundström collections try this. If you want to make a donation to The Colorectal Cancer Association of Canada, click on this. And if you want to know more about testing for Colorectal Cancer click here.

The Triennale québécoise 2011 Le travail qui nous attend / The Work Ahead of Us – 3

Howdy!

[Part One, Part Two]

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.

Third, according to the Marie Fraser, it’s a “performance… of Jules Olitski‘s painting ‘Instant Loveland.'”

Instant Loveland by Jules Olitski, courtesy Tate Britain. © Jules Olitski/VAGA, New York and DACS, London 2002
Instant Loveland by Jules Olitski, courtesy Tate Britain. © Jules Olitski/VAGA, New York and DACS, London 2002

Fourth and finally, there’s Kirby. A videogame character that is a purple/pink amorphous blob that inhales his enemies.

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.

+++++
Abba

Wild T & The Spirit

Rollover

R. Kelly

B-52s

Lonnie Liston Smith

Follies

Murals at 4141 Sherbrooke O. and 420 Sherbrooke O.

Howdy!

I don’t know how many times I’ve passed by this mural on the history of Montreal.

Kind of cubo-futurist painting of Montreal skyscrapers and churches.
Kind of cubo-futurist painting of Montreal skyscrapers and churches.

It’s on the side of what used to be the Holiday Inn, at 420 Sherbrooke St. O, and I would guess it was painted in 1983 (ish) when the Delta Hotel, next door was constructed.

A more realistic painting of Place Jacques Cartier.
A more realistic painting of Place Jacques Cartier.
More cubo-futurist buildings of Montreal.
More cubo-futurist buildings of Montreal.
Another vaguely realistic 19th Century Montreal street scene.
Another vaguely realistic 19th Century Montreal street scene.

I would imagine that there were at least two separate painters/designers (duh!)

More cubo-futurist churches.
More cubo-futurist churches.
The last cubo-futurist church painting.
The last cubo-futurist church painting.

But then, I came across this mural inside 4141 Sherbooroke O.

Some kind of faux renaissance painting in the lobby of 4141 Sherbrooke O.
Some kind of faux renaissance painting in the lobby of 4141 Sherbrooke O.
Some kind of faux renaissance painting in the lobby of 4141 Sherbrooke O.
Some kind of faux renaissance painting in the lobby of 4141 Sherbrooke O.
Close up of some kind of faux renaissance painting in the lobby of 4141 Sherbrooke O.
Close up of some kind of faux renaissance painting in the lobby of 4141 Sherbrooke O.

And I kind of think that they were both made by the same painter, although I’m not entirely certain. I can definitely make a case both for and against.

Does anyone know who made either of these?

The Triennale québécoise 2011 Le travail qui nous attend / The Work Ahead of Us – 2

Howdy!

[Part One is here]

If you want to see the flip side to Lynne Marsh‘s Philharmonie Project (Bruckner: Symphonie No. 5 Movements 1 & 4) it’s relatively simple

Click on “play.” To back up slightly for those of you who might not know what I am talking about. As part of the The Québec Triennial the Musée d’art contemporain de Montréal decided to spread its wings and exhibit art outside of the museum. One of the pieces chosen for the extra-muro treatment is Lynne Marsh‘s Philharmonie Project (Bruckner: Symphonie No. 5 Movements 1 & 4). It is a four channel video projected on one screen in a small dark room off of the Espace Culturel Georges-Émile-Lapalme at Place des arts that has three sets of bleachers installed campfire style around the screen.

As is written in the press release Ms. Marsh “turned her camera [sic] on the crews shooting a concert by the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra as it plays a piece by Anton Bruckner.” That piece is his fifth symphony conducted by Bernard Haitink on March 12, 2011. If you have an extra €9.90, you can watch the entire concert here. (It’s the only performance of Bruckner’s Symphony No. 5 that has been filmed by the Berliner Philharmoniker prior to the Triennial).

Or more explicitly, there are four cameras trained on a bunch of different people in the broadcast booth, each of whom has a different responsibility during the broadcast. (And what is it with red and blue checks in the control room? The two main characters wear them; one on his shirt, the other on his scarf.)

Similar to Harun Farocki‘s Deep Play and NASCAR‘s Race View. There are also some antecedents from the film Woodstock and the picture-in-picture feature of contemporary television sets.

You get the idea.

I’m not certain why Ms. Marsh chose to only use the first and the fourth movements. I can only guess that it was either due to technical glitches while recording the second and third movements. Or perhaps a rights issue, and the Berliner Philharmoniker preferred not give her a complete recording. I don’t know enough about German Copyright law to venture an idea based on that, so I’ll stick to “something screwed up with the cameras, and there was this deadline, and, and, and…” But to remind you, I have been wrong in the past, and I will be wrong again in the future, so there is no guarantee that I am right, now.

When I went to see it, there was this homeless guy hanging out on the bleachers watching it. I guess I kind of like the idea that Ms. Marsh makes art that is for everyone. But at the same time, it was cold outside, the room was dark and I’m not certain if we woke him up or not. So I’m not 100% certain if he was there because he enjoyed it and was interested in seeing it, or if he was there for other reasons. Anyhows, he was the only one there besides us, and for that I’d have to blame the museum and Place des arts. A small dark room off of the Espace Culturel Georges-Émile-Lapalme (aka the hallway in between Salle Wilfred Pelletier and Theatre Maisonneuve) is not exactly screaming out “look at me!” to all the passers by. And with the amount of flashing, flashy and bright videos all over the place in Place des arts, it’s quite easy to not even notice the room, let alone get the nerve up to hangout with the homeless while watching the technical side to parts of a symphony by Bruckner.

Given that Ms. Marsh’s Philharmonie Project (Neilsen: Symphony No. 5) Dry Run (see below) was done in close collaboration with Johanna Meyer-Grohbrügge and Sam Chermayeff of June14 I’m very surprised that the seating and its placement are so common and utilitarian.

While I can understand in theory why the museum tried to spread its wings for the Triennial, in practice placing anything that is even potentially art-like in Espace Culturel Georges-Émile-Lapalme is going to end up as a train wreck. The recent renovations have ruined Pierre Granche’s sculpture Comme si le temps… de la rue and as evidenced by the crowds lack of people watching Lynne Marsh‘s Philharmonie Project (Bruckner: Symphonie No. 5 Movements 1 & 4) I can only shake my head.

Unlike Rafael Lozano-Hemmer’s Architecture relationnelle 18. Intersection articulée Ms. Marsh’s piece was installed so as to be crowd unfriendly. As you enter into the dark room with the homeless man, you are first confronted by the backs of the bleachers that are at least five feet high, effectively creating a third barrier between you and the piece (the first being entering into a dark room in public, the second being entering into a room with someone who is homeless already there). Then as with most “Art” video installations, this is on an endless loop, which to me means that whomever is responsible for exhibiting the video has completely and thoroughly abdicated all responsibility towards making the artwork understandable. [Ed Note: To their credit, there is a 9:12 second gap at the end in order to make the entire loop 60 minutes. But there is no signage anywhere explaining when things start, and when I was there it started at 10 after the hour – I guess someone hit play a little late that morning]

OK, in some cases there actually are videos on a loop that do not have a beginning, a middle and an end, but as Ms. Marsh’s piece is based completely on a piece of music that does have a beginning, a middle and an end, to force the viewer to enter during the middle of the performance watch the end and then wait another 9 minutes for the beginning is just plain ridiculous. And that’s not even taking into consideration the fact that Ms. Marsh has truncated the performance itself by lopping off two movements.

As I mentioned earlier, multi-channel videos focusing on what happens behind the scenes of some insanely large public spectacle is not exactly an original idea. Which then leads me to ponder Ms. Marsh’s use of the first and last movements from Bruckner’s 5th symphony. (If you’d like to hear them, click on these: Movement 1: Introduction (Adagio) — Allegro. Movement 4: Finale (Adagio) — Allegro moderato).

I’m not exactly the best musicologist, but with a little bit of Google-Fu it’s possible to discover all sorts of things about Bruckner’s fifth symphony. According to Gabriel Engel [pdf alert] Bruckner “saw the Fifth as the deeply personal expression of a genius doomed to utter loneliness by the scorn and neglect of
a misunderstanding world. He caught in the Adagio the true spiritual keynote of the work. Its brooding main theme was the despairing utterance of abandoned genius.
” It would have been nice if some of that personal expression had seeped through into Ms. Marsh’s video. Engel continues, “Far more than any of his other symphonies it is a polyphonic work, the composer’s proud description, ‘my contrapuntal masterpiece,’ testifying to the extraordinary care with which he had fashioned its many-voiced strains.

Given the multichannel nature of Ms. Marsh’s video it would have been fairly simple to have used the video to, if not copy or follow the counterpoint, to create her own, but sadly she chose not to. Two of the cameras are entirely static and the other two for the most part do slow pans across a very limited field of vision.

If you’re interested in reading the score, click on this.

Lynne Marsh, Philharmonie Project (Neilsen: Symphony No. 5) Dry Run (picture taken from the catalogue to the Quebec Triennal 2011)
Lynne Marsh, Philharmonie Project (Neilsen: Symphony No. 5) Dry Run (picture taken from the catalogue to the Quebec Triennal 2011)

Interestingly enough in the catalogue to the Triennal, the pages committed to Ms. Marsh’s work also show images from something called Philharmonie Project (Neilsen: Symphony No. 5) Dry Run and in Marie Fraser’s essay that makes mention of Ms. Marsh she alludes to there having filmed the technicians during a performance of something by Mahler as well. Unfortunately Ms. Marsh’s website is not up to date so there is no information about it there. However, concurrently with the Triennal, she is exhibiting something called Philharmonie Project (Neilsen: Symphony No. 5) at Program in Berlin. According to the notes “the Philharmonie Project is a study on the staging of power systems, the cultural expression of mass consumption and the support structures that enable it to happen.” Which somehow gets translated for Quebec in the pages dedicated to Ms. Marsh in the catalogue of the Triennal as Ms. Marsh’s “practice is fuelled by a reflection on how these social spaces and their ideological orientation can be reconfigured through the camera lens.” I’m not so certain that I agree with either one. Earlier in the catalogue to the Triennal, Marie Fraser quotes Ms. Marsh as likening “the filming to a choreography, a dance where the rhythm and intensity of the music are translated by the action of the cameramen. Each image is precisely rendered: this is the camera as performer.

If this was the case, then someone would be selling tickets to watch the cameras and not selling tickets to hear the music (or watch the soccer game, stock car race, etc.) What Ms. Marsh is doing is shedding light on what goes on behind the scenes, which while interesting to some, ultimately can’t compare to the the original cultural event or performance. In the same way many more people will see Hamlet than will ever see Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead.

And then as long as I am questioning things, given that the Triennal is a highly political exhibit, I’m not quite certain what to make of the fact that Ms. Marsh has been in both. Especially since she is no longer considered a “young” artist, and she’s got a gig as a senior lecturer at the University of Hertfordshire.

I haven’t quite come up with any specific theory or idea on or about the Triennal. But I also haven’t written anything about any of the art actually in the museum yet, either. I’m certain it’ll come, I just hope it’ll come sooner rather than later, because if I end up writing something like this for each of the artists involved, I’ll never get it done by the end of the week.

The Triennale québécoise 2011 Le travail qui nous attend / The Work Ahead of Us – 1

Howdy!

The Work Ahead of Us, indeed! I’ve heard some people mention that I haven’t been writing too too much about art recently, sorry. And now I’m about to make up for it. Since I have broached the multi-part review, I figure I can do it again, and again, and, well you get the picture. Last week I was able to go see The Québec Triennial 2011 and given that there are something like 50 different artists involved along with a 500 page catalogue, there should be a lot of work involved in reviewing it. If this works out, I figure it’ll take me at least five parts to wrest everything I think about the show out of my system. Apologies in advance if you like things short and sweet.

But since the show itself is a large sprawling show, I figure a large sprawling review is appropriate. I can only hope that my worst paragraphs aren’t as bad as the worst parts of the Triennial, but somehow I have this sinking suspicion that in fact they will be worse. More apologies in advance.

As far as I could tell, there was no real structure to the show. The first piece from it that I saw was Rafael Lozano-Hemmer‘s Architecture relationnelle 18. Intersection articulée.

I had gone to a friend’s house which just so happens to be about a block away from Place des Festivals and while I wasn’t able to make a special trip down there to go see it, once I was there, it seemed pretty darn foolish to ignore it.

So I played with the joysticks for about five minutes, looking up at the giant light sabres in the sky kind of trying to figure out how the whole thing worked. Somewhere I had heard that Mr. Lozano-Hemmer was using the very same spotlights that were used by the US government on the Mexican border, and that there was some kind of political statement being made by virtue of the fact that “the public” could in fact manipulate the search lights, in opposition to how they were normally controlled, which is by U.S. Customs and Border Protection Guards.

I’m not convinced that it works as such. The documentation was kind of sketchy, and having a political piece about the U.S. – Mexican border in downtown Montreal seems a little far-fetched. Almost like being a fan of the Canadiens in Mexico City.

However as a pretty spectacle temporarily juxtaposed against the Place Ville Marie searchlights on the Montreal skyline it worked very well. The chaotic nature of the 18 spotlights, all for the most part aimed vertically, versus the regularity and horizontal nature of the lights on Place Ville Marie make for a very nice couple.

One of the more interesting things about going to see it, was how self-referential it was. When someone would play with the joystick, they were pretty much always looking at the light that they controlled. If you weren’t controlling a joystick you were most likely taking a picture or a video of your friend who was controlling a joystick.

Viewing it from afar, it would crop up in your field of view, and compete for your attention depending on where you were in town, but very rarely would it be able to keep your (read “my”) attention for more than a couple of seconds.

Architecture relationnelle 18. Intersection articulée also works as a proxy for the entire Triennale québécoise 2011 in that it is self-referential, attracts attention briefly and like all the artwork that pops up on Place des Festivals disappears without leaving a trace.

I could also write about how Architecture relationnelle 18. Intersection articulée also was designed for people with short attention spans, wasn’t too too deep and the similarity to those searchlights that are rented by event planners for the opening of a new car dealership or a discotheque in order to attract more attention. But instead of doing that, I’ll leave it up to you to make those connections and any others that you can think of. Otherwise this review could end up as long as the catalogue.

And speaking of length of reviews, I got a stick up my ass about the current state of affairs. This “review” in La Presse is 1,441 words, or about the equivalent of about 29 words for each artist. This “review” in Canadian Art magazine is 2.007 words, or about 40 words per artist. This “review” in Le Devoir is 1,162 words, or about 23 words per artist. This “review” in View on Canadian Art is 1,063 words, or about 21 words per artist. This “review” in The Montreal Gazette is 764 words, or about 15 words per artist. And lastly, this “review” in Voir is 797 words, or about 16 words per artist. (In case you were interested, the press release is 2,125 words long, or the equivalent of about 42½ words per artist, and the list of artists is 111 words long.)

How the heck is anyone going to get any sort of understanding or deeper comprehension on an exhibit that professes to be the definitive statement on art in Quebec in 2011 if the people who are paid to explain it to the general population, don’t even give it more than lip service. And what’s probably even worse is that I imagine the fine folk at the museum who are charged with things like tracking reviews are all quite chuffed about the reviews the show has received.

For the record, this is at 926 words and I’ve only mentioned one piece of art, in passing. In for a penny, in for a pound.

As long as we are on this tangent, I might as well apologize for the lack of pictures and videos, I asked the museum if I could go and take videos and was politely rebuffed, and after the issues the last two times I went to take still pictures, I decided to take my doctor’s advice and keep my blood pressure down, so we’re stuck with whatever I can find on YouTube, Flickr and the lousy reproductions I take myself from the catalogue (cf. paragraph 29 of the Canadian Copyright Act).

So how can I get this review back on track? Well, let’s start with perception, for those of you who have been under a rock for the last little while (and to be honest, I don’t blame you) or those of you from out-of-town and who don’t obsess over the microscopic Quebecois art world happenings, this is the second Triennial (website for the first is here). There is also a Biennial (more properly known here in town as The Biennale) and then just down the river there’s the Manif d’art (aka The Manifestation Internationale D’Art de Quebec). Or in other words there is a large overview of art made in Quebec, funded by the government every year (the Manif and the Biennale alternate years) and sometimes (like this year) there are two.

[As an aside, if you’re interested in hearing and seeing what I thought of this past year’s Biennale watch these.]

Given that any organization that gets money from the government and is successful in bringing in tourists, shouts about it from not only the tallest rooftops, but every darn rooftop in town; one, two, etc) I can only presume that since I haven’t heard about how many tourist dollars these art exhibits are responsible for, that they aren’t responsible for any. Which translates into they are all only playing for the locals. Which when you come to think about it, could be one major reason why art from Quebec isn’t appreciated much beyond the borders.

It’s that “definitive statement on art in Quebec in 2011” that kind of sticks in my craw. Looking back at the press release, they use sentences like “arriving at a comprehensive sense of Québec artistic practice in these early years of the twenty-first century.” and “a reference work on contemporary art in Québec” and while it’s very easy to think that something so large is definitive and comprehensive; from my perspective there are whacks and whacks (or if you prefer scads and scads) of artists who have been left out and ignored.

And that’s one place where I have some difficulties with The Triennale québécoise 2011 Le travail qui nous attend / The Work Ahead of Us. Like Rafael Lozano-Hemmer‘s Architecture relationnelle 18. Intersection articulée which can also be seen as just a bunch of light beams moving spastically across the sky, kind of like an ephemeral game of pick up sticks, there is something to be said about the spaces between the sticks that allow you to pick up the sticks without dislodging the others. The Triennial can also be likened to a random collection of similar objects that need to be organized, but once you recognize that the spaces in between the objects is as important as the objects themselves then it becomes easier to glom on to and get a grip on the show.

Initially, I thought I would reference my notes, the catalogue and what I could find on the internet to write about a paragraph or so on each artist involved in The Triennale québécoise 2011 Le travail qui nous attend / The Work Ahead of Us, but now I’m not so sure. I’m still going to reference my notes, the catalogue and what I can find on the internet to talk about the show, I’m just not so certain that a) It’s going to be a paragraph for each artist, and b) I hope that tomorrow I can discuss more than one work.

Outfits from a New Era at the Biosphere (Part Five)

Howdy!

Part One is here, Part Two is here, Part Three is here, and Part Four is here.

Haute couture 2.0 by Mélissa Turgeon
Haute couture 2.0 by Mélissa Turgeon

Haute couture 2.0 my eye! A) Who uses a mouse with a wire these days anyhows? Haute couture 1.75. B) PS/2 connectors were beginning to be phased out 2001. Haute couture 1.50. C) Compaq hasn’t existed as a company since 2002. Haute couture 1.25. Web 2.0 was coined as a term in 2004. Haute couture 1.00. And I’m certain if I looked closer I could come up with at least four other mistakes with the name.

So how about we call this something more like Long Stringy Dress Made out of Colorful Wires? Or Non-Grass Grass Skirt for Quebecois Hula Dancing, or something like that? Instead of showing off a blissful ignorance of technology and technological terms.

Now that I’ve got that off my chest, we can take a closer look at the Non-Grass Grass Skirt for Quebecois Hula Dancing.

Detail from Non-Grass Grass Skirt for Quebecois Hula Dancing by Mélissa Turgeon
Detail from Non-Grass Grass Skirt for Quebecois Hula Dancing by Mélissa Turgeon

Overall I gotta give Ms. Turgeon some props. Despite not knowing how to name her dresses, the Non-Grass Grass Skirt for Quebecois Hula Dancing quite possibly best exemplifies the ideas and concepts behind Outfits from a New Era at the Biosphere. In that none of the materials used were new, and that what she uses as textiles truly has been salvaged from the scrap heap.

Personally I would have ditched the actual mice (mouses?) all they’re going to do is bruise someone’s ankles, and the biegeness of them definitely detracts from the extremely colorful nature of the rest of the dress. Maybe, perhaps, possibly they could have been used as ear flaps for the headgear. It wolod have also been nice to see what it looked like if all the wires were grouped together by color.

I’m not certain that it would have been “better.” But I still would like to be able to compare. I have a feeling that the sense of the material (ie making people more aware that it was made out of wires) would have come through slightly stronger. But then again, what do I know about making a Non-Grass Grass Skirt for Quebecois Hula Dancing?

Headgear for Non-Grass Grass Skirt for Quebecois Hula Dancing by Mélissa Turgeon
Headgear for Non-Grass Grass Skirt for Quebecois Hula Dancing by Mélissa Turgeon

Sort of flapper inspired (I’m not entirely certain that it would go with the Charlestea dress by By Maude Lapierre) for the next time she makes one, she should try to spell out some messages in the hat.

Caustic Swimsuit By Jennifer Bergeron
Caustic Swimsuit By Jennifer Bergeron

Now we’re coming into the homestretch. Caustic Swimsuit and a dress called Hit Parade. The Caustic Swimsuit is particularly intriguing, in that I am not entirely certain that there is anyone who could swim while wearing a 240 lb. swimsuit. Heck, even lying around the pool would be a chore! OK, maybe Iris Kyle could wear it without collapsing. But nonetheless, there’s something kinda cool in a bling-bling way about 1,200 batteries glued together.

But who has the sort of twisted mind to make a swimsuit that would drown you if you wore it into the water? Although perhaps Jennifer Bergeron was also trying to make some sort of statement on the state of the water in and around Montreal? You know, in a roundabout sort of way kind of tell you that the water is polluted.

Detail from Caustic Swimsuit By Jennifer Bergeron
Detail from Caustic Swimsuit By Jennifer Bergeron

And while you’re not going to get electrocuted from wearing a swimsuit made out of dead 1.5 volt batteries, putting them in water probably will make them corrode quicker and end up releasing some rather unsavory chemicals (although it should be noted it depends entirely on the type of battery. Alkaline batteries leak potassium hydroxide, while zinc–carbon batteries leak zinc oxide) it also should be noted that while potassium hydroxide is caustic, zinc oxide is not (or at least that’s what I think).

Like the Non-Grass Grass Skirt for Quebecois Hula Dancing, the Caustic Swimsuit is truly made out of post-consumer waste and lives up to the ideals and concepts of Outfits from a New Era. Which is all very nice, but it still is 240 lbs.!

Detail from Caustic Swimsuit By Jennifer Bergeron
Detail from Caustic Swimsuit By Jennifer Bergeron
Hit Parade By Valérie Bédard
Hit Parade By Valérie Bédard

The last of the 16 dresses is Hit Parade By Valérie Bédard. Made from video tape, audio tape, slides and 35 mm film it is another pretty good example of post consumer waste being put to better use than landfill.

Detail of Hit Parade By Valérie Bédard
Detail of Hit Parade By Valérie Bédard

Initially, because I wasn’t looking too closely, when I read that it was called Hit Parade i mistakenly thought that it had been made from LPs that had been melted down. But no siree bob! I was thoroughly and completely wrong. Made me realize that I needed to pay closer attention at all times.

This dress not only works as an effective example of what Outfits from a New Era is trying to prove, but also looks like it would actually work as something that could be worn, and worn comfortably, to the discotheque. Which is probably why Ms. Bédard started up Audiofil, a company to make things using old cassette tapes as the thread for the fabric. If she ever gets to the point where she makes another one, I would strongly suggest copping some pattern from the 1980s, as that was the height of cassette culture, and social self-reference would just make everybody’s head spin. In a good way.

Detail from Hit Parade By Valérie Bédard
Detail from Hit Parade By Valérie Bédard

As you might have expected after reading all five posts, I was quite charmed by Outfits from a New Era. It seemed that this past summer was a summer of fashion. Beyond the Jean-Paul Gautier exhibit, which I very deliberately did not write about, there was the Arlette Vermeiren Zucoli exhibit and the Les Ballets Russes de Diaghilev exhibit all of which added up to more costumes, fashion and fabric than I had seen in a very long time.

I’m going to have to start studying things much closer, because I’m going to be covering (if that is the appropriate verb) a Lundstrom Fashion show which is happening to benefit the Colorectal Cancer Association of Canada on November 15, 2011.

But not only did I like most of the dresses in Outfits from a New Era but the rationale for making them was also nice, and then the thing that really made my heart go “pitter patter” over the show was since it was at the Biosphere there was hardly anyone there, which while not that great for the Biosphere was great for me, as I can’t stand crowded exhibits where you have to crane your neck to see things or wait patently in line while everyone else ahead of you takes a gander. Although they could have easily saved some cash by ditching the whole vedette thing. I don’t think getting autographed ephemera aids in any way the pedagogic nature of the show, although if I can remind you, I have been wrong before, and I will be wrong again.

I would suggest heading over during the upcoming holidays, as it will guarantee that you don’t run into any school trips. The exhibit itself is on display until December 2012, so if you miss the Christmas season, there’s spring break, Easter, and next summer, ie plenty of time to catch it. And then I seem to remember someone telling me that it was going to tour the country.

For Tags: Names of all the designers, names of all the dresses, Biosphere, Outfits from a New Era, Objets Non Enfouis all the French translation

Outfits from a New Era at the Biosphere (Part Four)

Howdy!

Part One is here, Part Two is here. Part Three is here.

Plush Empress By Majorie Labrèque-Lepage

Plush Empress By Majorie Labrèque-Lepage
Plush Empress By Majorie Labrèque-Lepage

What would you expect from someone who makes stuffed toys for a living? Cute and lighthearted, I’d really like to kn ow what was used to make the skirt hold its shape. A Hoop skirt? Petticoats? Crinoline? Or something else. The tag says that only 4 sweaters, 7 pairs of jeans and 100 buttons were used to make this dress. But I suspect that there were some other things involved as well.

It actually looks like it could be worn, but I’m not 100% convinced I would be able to survive the constant barrage of cuteness. Maybe if I was partial to dressing up for Halloween, I’d be more open to a dress that had a hood with ears and some sort of bear-like soccer ball protruding from the crotch.

Detail of Plush Empress By Majorie Labrèque-Lepage
Detail of Plush Empress By Majorie Labrèque-Lepage

The Outfits from a New Era exhibition were designed to highlight “cast-offs from our society in a whole new light” and while the vast majority of them were made from waste products, four appeared to be made from new material. Of the four, the two following were notable examples.

WFA - With Fixed Address By Stéphanie Lévesque
WFA - With Fixed Address By Stéphanie Lévesque

Another fantasy dress, another material list that isn’t quite complete. That bodice is not made of plywood (unless that’s the thinnest plywood ever – or perhaps it should be the veneer used to make plywood). Although I kind of like the concept of living in your dress. Once you glom onto the idea behind this dress there isn’t an awful lot of depth to it. But I bet you that it is well insulated (yuck, yuck, yuck!)

Of all the dresses in the exhibit, I would guess that this one is the most structurally sound. But probably the most difficult to modify if you gained a couple of pounds. Although I think Stéphanie Lévesque should try to get someone from Mon Plan Rona to wear it as a publicity stunt.

Grand Design By Isabel Vinuela
Grand Design By Isabel Vinuela

This, I think is the weakest of all 16 dresses. Made out of canvas its “twist” is that the drawing and the stickers are supposed to be part of it as well. More of a coat than a dress, it’s kind of difficult to pick out from the drawing, which while obviously the intention, doesn’t make it any better in my eyes. It’s not like I’m going to be walking around wearing the drawing when I put on the dress (or coat).

Wall tag explaining how to interact with Grand Design By Isabel Vinuela
Wall tag explaining how to interact with Grand Design By Isabel Vinuela

Sorry that my picture is so blurry.

I can’t quite accept that the backdrop for a dress is as important (or even more so) than the actual dress.

Grand Design By Isabel Vinuela
Grand Design By Isabel Vinuela

Still more tomorrow.