Category Archives: Rave

Art, Montréal, Ramble, Rave, Sculpture, Visual Art

Cal Lane : Ammunition at Art Mûr

June 29, 2012 zeke

Howdy!

I don’t know for certain if I’ve ever been this close to something that costs $160,000. But Cal Lane‘s Gutter Snipes is a pretty gosh darn impressive drainpipe. It’s part of the show Ammunition that was at Art Mûr earlier this month. Given that it was part of the show I initially thought that it was a Quonset hut that had been cut up, but according to the wall tag, she used a drain pipe. It appeared that all the rest of the pieces in her show had some connection to the military. Consisting of ammunition boxes that had been ajoured. Beyond being very pretty and making some awesome shadows, the pieces and the show raise a whole whack of interesting questions.

Back when I was a child, I used to haunt Army/Navy surplus stores. They always had ammunition boxes for sale. Since I was so young, and as a consequence hadn’t accumulated an awful lot of stuff, I never could quite figure out what to do with an old ammunition box from World War 2 or the Korean War. Now I wish I had bought a bunch. I have more junk and crap in my place that would be so much better served by being in a box or something than just being piled on my floor. But I digress…

Since war is fought very differently these days in comparison to 65 years ago, I strongly doubt that contemporary ammunition boxes look at all like the ones in the exhibition. Without doing any research, I kind of figure plastic and either much smaller, for the reduction in size of projectiles or larger, for the increase in size of the projectiles. But to be absolutely honest, now-a-days I do my darndest to stay as far away as possible from anything and everything that might possibly be connect to any military. So I honestly have no clue a to what a contemporary ammunition box looks like. But, I’m quite familiar with the old ones.

Basically two feet by three feet by four feet (or something like that) and made out of metal, they make for a fairly stable and regular object to have bits cut out by a welding torch – that’s the difference, filigree is made by twisting threads together, lace and hemstitch are done similarly – with ajoure you cut the bits out.

There are all sorts of things you can read into the use of ajoure on old ammunition boxes. If you need some help, a traditionally female type of work being used on a traditionally male piece of equipment. Military vs. Domestic, you get the idea. Let your imagination run wild. Then the final kick at the can, it wasn’t until I actually went to callane.com that I discovered in fact that Ms. Lane is in fact a Ms. Thereby adding even more fuel for the fire of your imagination.

The one thing I was particularly impressed with through, beyond the juxtapositioning of two seemingly incongruous ideas was her use of shadows and negative space. There was nothing particularly special about the lighting per se, but the shadows thrown off the objects were riveting. To the extent that it was extremely difficult to concentrate on the rather rough cut outs on the boxes. I’m fairly certain that if I had one of the boxes hanging across from my desk or bed or something, where I would have multiple opportunities to study it for an extended period of time I’d be able to create some sort of story or understand the things Ms. Lane has cut out in the boxes. As it is, the shadows function kind of like a veil, obscuring things just enough to make it extremely alluring.

As I mentioned at the beginning, I thought Gutter Snipes was a Quonset hut. I’m a tad disappointed that it wasn’t. Because it would have been in keeping with the whole whole military theme. But as an object, it is something spectacular. Unlike the other pieces, it’s lit from within, so the shadows fall out side of it on the wall and floor. While they do make pretty patterns they don’t interfere with the metalwork which enables you to actually see and concentrate on some of the motifs and patterns. In some ways this is a good thing, and in other ways it isn’t suck a good thing.

It’s not good, because you get to see up close how rough Ms. Lane’s work is. Not that there is anything wrong with rough work, it’s just that when your work gets compared to lace and filigree in an age when there is a techniques known as laser cutting and waterjet cutting. It becomes a case of not quite living up to expectations, especially when your eye switches from the ammunition boxes veiled in shadows. Then secondarily, I didn’t quite appreciate seeing that the individual parts were held together by wrapped wire. It gave a little bit too much of an air of being jury-rigged together or slapdash, and not well thought out.

On the other hand it is a good thing, because by being able to see what she has cut out, you can start to make up stories about what everyone is doing, and making up stories is a very very good thing. When I was there, I couldn’t make up my mind if the whole thing was supposed to be read left-to-right, top-to-bottom or right-to-left. I guess it kind of depends on what god you believe in. Going left-to-right there seem to be a bunch of angels, some with mohawks, along with industrial landscapes, some other animals and a lot of the pretty shapes she uses to keep everything attached. If you read top-to-bottom, there seem to be a a bunch of devas or dharmapalas, some with mohawks, along with industrial landscapes, some other animals and a lot of the pretty shapes she uses to keep everything attached. If you read right-to-left there seem to be a bunch of Garuda or malaikah, some with mohawks, along with industrial landscapes, some other animals and a lot of the pretty shapes she uses to keep everything attached. I wish I had the time to go over it more closely, and actually try to give you some idea of the story I would make up about what was happening, but unfortunately, as you can see, I’m desperately behind the times and as the show closed two weeks ago, it’s not exactly easy to go back and spend a day-and-a-half looking at. With a little luck Rhéal Olivier & François were able to sell it to someone or something that will allow it to be viewed by the public and you can see it and make up your own.

It was at this point that I was going to try and write about how Gutter Snipes also was some kind of half pipe and tie it into skater culture and then finish up with a paragraph or two on recycling and reusing. But the more I think about it, neither one really applies. While there are lots of similarities that can be made between Gutter Snipes and The Pipe specifically in the shape and the ornamentation, the more I think about it, the less it seems natural and organic. And yes, I could jam them together no matter what anyone else thinks, but if I had to add another 1,200 words to this, I’m not certain it would be the best use of my time (can you tell that I’m getting anxious about all the backlogged stuff I’ve got?) And then while the recycle and reuse is a much more graceful thing to posit (and probably would only require about 500 words) I find it equally awkward when the ammunition boxes are most likely from Army Surplus stores and were never intended to be thrown away.

But the whole Women’s art thing really can’t be avoided. Ms. Lane leans heavily on what has traditionally been the only type of art that the y-chromosome challenged folk have been allowed to do for something like the last couple of millennia, while at the same time using as her base material and (for lack of a better word) “brushes” things that are most typically associated with the more aggressive of the sexes. Kind of like flipping everything on its head, or at least twisting standard issue artistic practices inside out. This is a good thing. While, personally, I would prefer to call Ms. Lane “Caledonia” (if in fact that is her name) rather than the gender bending diminutive “Cal,” more, because I really don’t like surprises, and then secondarily, it makes that whole “in fact that Ms. Lane is in fact a Ms.” redundant and superfluous, which is what gender in art should be. It doesn’t matter whether it is made by a guy or a girl. Yes it is unfortunate and bad that the art world has been one of the more sexist and misogynistic places for thousands of years. but here in Quebec, despite a lapse for 1,032 days starting in 2006, things for the most part are better than equal.

Three out of the four big museums in town are run by women, most of the major art festivals are run by women, a large preponderance of the galleries (commercial, university and artist run) are run by women, and believe it or not the collections in the museums that have collections while not 50/50 are a darn site closer than probably any other museums in the world (if I remember correctly, when I tried to count, the MACM had about 35% of its collection made by women, and the MBAM something like 20%) and there are significant local collections that actually have more art made by women.

But it’s beginning to look like I am foaming at the mouth here. In short, no matter how hard you try to avoid it, it’s impossible to avoid gender issues in this exhibit by Ms. Lane. This is a good thing. Her art is also a good thing. And finally it’s a very good thing I got to see it. Next time you have a chance you should too.

Art, Montréal, Painting, Ramble, Rave, Review, Visual Art

Claude Tousignant : Périphériques et Retables at Art Mûr

June 21, 2012 zeke

Howdy!

So do you know what a retable is? As a good Jew and a card carrying squarehead and bloke, I had no freaking clue what so ever. But after seeing the exhibit by Claude Tousignant at Art Mûr and then looking the words up on Wikipedia, Google and a couple of other places just to make sure, it all made sense. I could kind of muddle through “périphériques.” Ditch the accents, modify the “ques” to an “als” and even the most stubborn monolingual Francophobe can get an idea of what Claude Tousignant meant, but the second part of the title is a little bit more obscure, Especially if you were born after the Quiet Revolution. Although to be honest, the paintings look to me, more along the lines of Devices and Altarpieces and not quite Periphials and Retables, slightly less precise terms leave a lot more room for interpretation of the art.

If you weren’t aware, Claude Tousignant is one of the heavy hitters of contemporary Quebecois art. He is, along with Françoise Sullivan, Armand Vaillancourt, Fernand Leduc, Jacques Hurtubise and Marcel Barbeau kind of like the really, really old guard. Still working away and making things (although I am not certain if M. Leduc is still making things, and I wonder why M. Barbeau hasn’t received a prix Borduas yet, but I digress…). The people who signed manifestos and who actually caused change here. Although I have never met him, I imagine he is a very nice person. Or at least one of his daughters is. I got to know Isa Tousignant via her sweetie and the local across the street from Zeke’s Gallery where a bunch of us would have a glass or two of beer after work.

One of the things that caught my eye, was how Art Mûr did not print any prices on the wall tags. Normally, when something like that happens, it is the super-secret-art-world-insider-code for “too rich for your type.” But in this case I am not so certain, because upstairs they were exhibiting a sculpture with a price tag of $160,000 clearly marked. And despite how many times I buy a 6/49 ticket, $160K is too rich for my type. Maybe M. Tousignant is not only a very nice guy, but a private one as well, and isn’t quite comfortable with something potentially as crass as cash money. I don’t think I have ever seen a painting of his go up for auction, and if my memory is correct the prints of his that I’ve seen have gone for something like a couple of thousand dollars. So it is quite possible that the Périphériques and Retables weren’t outrageously expensive, merely a lot of money. If anybody knows what the prices were don’t hesitate to pipe up.

But enough about the background, what about the paintings themselves? They are variations on a theme. The two Retables are each three canvases attached side to side to side, with the middle canvas being slightly higher than the ones on the sides. Number One uses canvases 4′ 2″ square, Number Two has two canvases of 5′ square and one of 5′ 2″ square. For lack of a Pantone chart, Number One consists of a white, a blue and an red canvas, while Number Two’s canvases are green, purple and orange. I presume that the date and M. Tousignant’s signature is on the back. Overall they are quite stately and imposing. I preferred Number Two, although that might just be because it was the first one I saw and has a much more significant placement within the gallery. Now I could go completely off on abstract painting, post-painterly abstraction, color fields and minimalism, but I won’t. I’m fairly certain that if you want to, you can find someone or someplace that will expound upon them to your heart’s content.

Obviously made to be hung in the front of a church, I’m not entirely certain what denomination of Catholicism would be appropriate. Despite the fact that I refuse to use a flash, it’s still possible to tell from the crappy pictures I took that Number Two is the three secondary colors. The closest I can get to figuring out the color theory behind Number One is that M. Tousignant took the Russian flag and turned it on its side. The Périphériques are where the fun kicks in. There are four of them exhibited, but as the largest number in the titles is thirteen (they are all part of a series, which I presume is numbered consecutively), there are at least nine others kicking around someplace. All marked as “variable dimensions,” that incredibly useful phrase to hide (or ignore) all sorts of details. Each consists of a collection of smallish square canvases painted one color. These canvases are then arrayed on the wall in a way that on first glance looks like some sort of cubic solar system or a three dimensional still from one of those trippy-dippy animated films that the NFB made in the sixties.

With the Périphériques, the big deal is how M. Tousignant uses the wall as part of the installation. His instructions for installing them are shown in the inside front page of the magazine that Art Mûr publishes, and I was very surprised to see that the dimensions are in inches (and in certain cases sixteenths of an inch) nor does it appear that there is any theory behind how they are hung. It’d be kind of neat to see what M. Tousignant could do if he got rid of the canvases and started painting directly on the wall. Not quite Sol Lewitt, but kind of. I’m certain that if I studied each one close enough, I could possibly knock together some kind of color/size theory on how they were created. But I instead, decided just to try and get a sense of what M. Tousignant was getting at. Trying to get into his frame of mind by proxy if you will. Where the Retables come across as heavy and domineering, like one of those chords on an organ, the Périphériques are much more recorder like, similar to one of those renaissance songs with the typos and the musicians in all sorts of puffy clothing.

Claude Tousignant, Compostion Murale #1 (suite Périphérique)

It’s extremely heartening to see an artist of M. Tousignant’s caliber exhibiting in a gallery such as Art Mûr, it obviously speaks highly of Rhéal Olivier Lanthier and François St-Jacques, the two guys who run it. The one slight negative thing I would have to say, is just I wish that they were capable of getting M. Tousignant’s work noticed on an international level. There is not a single museum outside of Canada listed on his CV in the Art Mûr magazine. Which is a glaring hole, but to be expected with how Quebecois Art is viewed (or not viewed) in the rest of the world.

If I had any theories about Contemporary Abstract Art made in Quebec, this would be the place to state them. But I don’t, I just kind of look at it, wonder why it doesn’t get better recognition in the rest of the world and then go look at it some more, M. Tousignant’s work to my mind, is on a par, if not better than any other living artist in the world today (including such folks as Gerhard Richter, Peter Doig and David Hockney) if Art Mûr is in fact charging millions of dollars for M. Tousignant’s work, then I am completely and utterly astonished and will gladly take back everything I have ever said about Contemporary Quebecois Art not getting the fiscal respect (and all other types of respect that go along with it) that it deserves. Baring that, M. Tousigant’s work makes me hope that I can make as effective, entertaining, interesting and kick-ass work when I am 80 years-old.

Montréal, Music, Performance, Québec, Ramble, Rave, Review

Yannick Nézet-Séguin and the Orchestre Métropolitain’s Brahms Symphonic Cycle

June 13, 2012 zeke

Howdy!

It must’ve been a pretty big thing. Three of the six daily newspapers in town did preview articles about the Brahms Cycle (Symphony 1, Symphony 2, Symphony 3, Symphony 4) that Yannick Nézet-Séguin and the Orchestre Métropolitain performed over the weekend (one, two, three). What with everything else happening in town at the same time, I’m impressed that it got that much coverage. After the fact, it got some as well in La Presse, Le Devoir, The Gazette, La Scena Musicale and someplace called Bachtrack. I bring this up, because I was invited by the orchestra to watch them play as well, and while I’m not certain I would have classified it as a big deal, it was fun.

It was my first visit inside the Maison Symphonique which still is not completed (anyone want to take bets on when it will be done?) I will continue to wait to comment on the building until it is finished. But that’s not going to stop me from commenting about the concerts. The first one, on Saturday evening was of Symphonies One and Two. Then on Sunday afternoon they performed Symphonies Three and Four along with Brahms’ Violin Concerto. For the most part I’ve been concentrating on the Symphonies. No slight intended to Benjamin Beilman, he was very good, but the majority of this piece is not going to be about him. It was also my first time in a long time, something like two or three years, seeing an orchestra. For whatever reasons I’ve been concentrating on chamber music recently. After seeing the Orchestre Métropolitain, I’m going to have to get back into the habit again.

It appears that Maestro Nézet-Séguin is on some kind of Brahms streak right now. In going back over his concerts since September 2006, he performed Brahms’ symphonies eight times with four different orchestras prior to May of this year. Then from May 11 to August 31 of this year (as far in advance as the calendar on his website goes) he will be performing them fourteen times with all three orchestras that he directs! Although we are lucky here as we are the only city to get to hear the third symphony. Rotterdam is getting One and Two, and Philadelphia is getting One and Four. In doing the research for this article both the Rotterdams Philharmonisch and the Orchestre Métropolitain made promo videos (I guess the Philadelphia Orchestra isn’t quite in a position to be able to afford to make promo videos just yet).

The Rotterdam promo

And the Orchestre Métropolitain promo

All nice enough, nothing terribly earth shattering, although it’s kind of cool that Maestro Nézet-Séguin has a favorite conductor. Also, as long as I am talking about the stuff in advance of the concert, I must, respectfully take exception to what Arthur Kaptainis wrote. While his logic was reasonable, he was completely and thoroughly wrong. None of the symphonies Maestro Nézet-Séguin conducted were particularly slow. I would also presume that the performances with the different orchestras will be as different as the orchestras themselves.

I also came across this interview with him from twelve years ago. I wonder how long it is going to take for him to shake the “young conductor” label. I know that when I was 37, I certainly didn’t think of myself as a youngster.

But enough of the rambling. I really should get to the meat of the matter. For the first concert we were seated right beside (if slightly above) the orchestra. They were definitely entertaining seats, as we had a clear view of Maestro Nézet-Séguin conducting and were almost on top of Jean-Guy Plante. I can remember one other time being that close to an orchestra, and while I can understand the allure of being further back so that the sound (theoretically) is better, given that a concert is a live performance, being that close gives you a lot of things to look at. As I said, highly entertaining. Being that close also enabled me to see my favorite violinist and viola players, Celine Arcand and Jean Rene. I wasn’t close enough to make out their playing individually, but I know that they were great.

Maestro Nézet-Séguin mentioned that the set up of the orchestra was Viennese, which as he pointed out meant that the Double Basses were behind the brass section, however the trumpet players were also using rotary-valve trumpets which is particular to the Vienna Philharmonic. My ear isn’t good enough to know if they tuned to A443 or if they used any other techniques, specific instruments or ideas from the Vienna Philharmonic, but I would venture a guess as to yes. It would be interesting to see if he got his other two orchestras to do the same when they do their Brahms gigs.

The back row of a Viennese Orchestra setup.

As I mentioned earlier, Maestro Nézet-Séguin’s tempos weren’t particularly slow. I was able to get my hands on a bunch of different recordings and for the First Symphony it sounded to me as if he was leading them at pretty much the same tempo as Antal Doráti‘s recordings from the late 50s and early 60s. While it would have been nice if I could have identified the tempos of the other symphonies, my sense of timing is not quite as good as my sense of tone, so you’re just going to have to trust me on this one.

The one thing that I was able to pick up on was that in comparison to the recordings that I heard, the Orchestre Métropolitain did not have as much of a dynamic range. However I do not know if that was due to where I was sitting or if it was in fact due to the orchestra. Given that they were a small bunch to start with (about 58 musicians onstage) it might have been a case of not being large enough to get really loud, and therefore the quieter parts didn’t sound as dramatically different.

In the first concert I completely missed the First Symphony’s transition from the third to fourth movement, and then when paying particularly close attention during the Second Symphony understood why. In the Second Symphony the pause was incredibly short, barely enough time for the musicians to turn the page in their scores. I would imagine that it was similar in the First Symphony as well – or perhaps I just fell asleep at the wrong time.

The music itself was very nice. In my notes I refer to it not being syrupy at all, and in certain parts being extremely fluid. If you’re really interested, when I have finished Walter Frisch‘s book Brahms: The Four Symphonies I’ll be in a much better position to describe what was happening as the music was playing, but for the time being you’re going to have to put up with things like “it sounds like they are skipping through a field,” and “kind of like suspended in amber.”

Yannick Nézet-Séguin and the Orchestre Métropolitain

I couldn’t understand, nor did I really like or appreciate that during the intermission there were some children sawing their way through Vivaldi right beside the bar. Afterwards I discovered that there had been some kind of community outreach by the orchestra and Maestro Nézet-Séguin to a local high school. That’s all fine and dandy, but playing inappropriate background music where there really shouldn’t be any is not the way to do it. Working with musicians from the orchestra and being conducted (is that the proper way to say it?) by Maestro Nézet-Séguin definitely fits the bill, and as long as I am at it, I also think they should have been invited to both concerts, not just one. After the intermission, it was back to our seats for Symphony Number Two. In the program they mentioned how “Brahms’s Concerto for Violin displays features that make it almost a companion piece to his Symphony No. 2.” Which made me wonder why they didn’t play them on the same night.

Of the four symphonies I heard them play, the second was, to my ears the weakest. Which is not to say it wasn’t good, just that the other three were better. Specifically in the third movement where they seemed to be alternating between being sloppy and being sludgy. Of the four it was the one that sounded the least emotional to me. Not robotic or mechanical, but more “rote” than “with feeling.” I don’t know where the thought came from, but it occurred to me that it might a=have been a case of not having enough practice time. Maestro Nézet-Séguin tweeted that they only did seven rehearsals which means that one of the symphonies only got one rehearsal. If that was the case, my money is on the second.

On Sunday we returned to the still unfinished Maison Symphonique. This time our seats were one row back and on the other side of the orchestra. I definitely know that being one row further back is not a good thing, but I’m undecided as to which side is better. Ultimately when given a gift of tickets, it’s exceedingly difficult to request specific seats. Although I was able to see Mr. Kaptainis from the Gazette sitting fairly far back, on the floor, towards the left. In your standard issue critic’s seats. I think that maybe the ones directly behind the orchestra might be pretty cool. But at some point (once they have completed the building) I’m going to have to try out a variety of different seats to see which ones sound best – after all they have been touting about how great the acoustics are in the building.

The usher in our section wasn’t particularly well trained. We had accidentally entered on the wrong side of the stage and were making our way through the seats to get to the other side, when he stopped us and tried to make us go the opposite way through a large crowd of people walking through a small doorway. Kind of like swimming upstream through quicksand. We didn’t pay him any attention, and hopefully someone will give him some training on how to seat people properly. Then also in looking around at the crowd, the Orchestre Métropolitain really needs to do some work on getting people with different colored skin to show up to their concerts. It was quite easy to see how they had made very good progress in getting a younger crowd to come see them. But I was able to count on my fingers and toes the number of people in the audience whose skin was darker than mine. Next year when they tour the island of Montreal they only play in one neighborhood with a significant recent immigrant population. If anyone is interested, I’d suggest that they play in Montreal North and St. Michel as often as they play in Hochelaga-Maisonneuve, Saint Laurent and Pierrefonds.

The Third Symphony seemed to me to be slower than that of the Dorati version I had been listening to. And I think that I made a mistake in listening to it before the concert. Instead of using the concert as my baseline/benchmark and comparing everything I heard to it. I ended up with the Dorati version being the baseline/benchmark and unfortunately comparing the concert to the recording instead of the other way around. Overall it was very light, in a good way. I noted that at various points it almost seemed as if Maestro Nézet-Séguin let the musicians themselves set the pace, which to my ears seemed like a good thing.

We then got the Violin Concerto, and Mr. Beilman acquitted himself very well. I can’t find anything on YouTube of him playing any Brahms, and after all the reading and listening I did for the symphonies, I just wasn’t able to find the time to get to the Violin Concerto, sorry.

The Fourth Symphony started out like a large boat cruising down an even larger river, at various points it sounded to me like some graceful nymphs, tip toeing and very lyrical. But the thing that most impressed me was the fourth movement, where I was incapable of writing one word down – I was just that riveted by the music. While the third movement of Brahms’ Fourth Symphony is the famous one and always reminds me of some B-movie western from the 50s in technicaolor

What Maestro Nézet-Séguin did with the fourth movement was better than particularly nice, it was downright gorgeous and very pretty (I should also point out that Marie-Andrée Benny did an awesome job as well). If I could make it down to Saratoga in August to hear him perform it with the Philadelphia Orchestra I would. If you can, you should. And don’t forget that Yannick Nézet-Séguin and the Orchestre Métropolitain will be playing Brahms’ First Symphony again on July 22 at the Domain Forget and are playing two free concerts at Theatre de Verdure on July 20 and August 4.

Then to wrap things up (this has become rather large) I noticed in the program that Maestro Nézet-Séguin donated more than $50,000 to the Orchestre Métropolitain. Which confused the heck out of me, wouldn’t it just be simpler to reduce his salary? It’s quite the gesture and should be done by many more people, but made me realize that conductors are a little bit like NASCAR drivers. The way they earn their money is vary opaque and coming from a variety of very different sources, and as a consequence isn’t exactly clear. Overall though I’m very happy to see that he is making enough money to donate such a large chunk of change.

Overall I’d have to say I was quite pleased with how things turned out. I’m not sure I’d always be interested in doing a sort of marathon of music devoted to on composer, but this one worked out well. Whatever the reason, it was very good to see an orchestra again, and finally get to see Maestro Nézet-Séguin in action. I’m looking forward to the next time. And then lastly (if you’re still reading this far) you should take this quick, easy and very silly test.

Montréal, Photo Essay, Ramble, Rave, Review

Dites Donc Dow! at the Carrefour d’innovation INGO

June 8, 2012 zeke

Howdy!

Earlier this week I went to go see the Dites Donc Dow! exhibit. Half because I drink beer every now and again, half because it’s not all that common to be able to go see an exhibit on a Monday. Since this one is in a school, it’s open Monday to Friday 10 o’clock in the morning to 5 o’clock at night. I do believe it is the first time I ever had to be buzzed in by a security guard to see an exhibit, but it was easy enough. He asked me what I wanted to do, I said see the exhibit, I got in, everyone went home happy.

Installation view of Dites Donc Dow! at the Carrefour d'innovation INGO

As it is a historical exhibit, I’m not going to duplicate things by going over the history of the Dow Brewery. Suffice it to say there is an awful lot of it online (here, here, here and here). Plus there is an awful lot more online that deals with the deaths in Quebec City in 1966 due to massive consumption of cobalt sulfate by heavy drinkers of Dow, due to their being more than 16 times the amount of cobalt sulfate than there was supposed to be. (here, here, here, here, and here). And then there are the pictures (here, here and here). I didn’t bother looking at eBay, because I figured it would just be a complete time waster. Surprisingly, I could only find two ads for Dow Beer on YouTube

Plus the whole idea is for this to be a review, not a proxy for going to see the exhibit. Another reason why I’m not doing anything other than making oblique links, is that up until I started looking on line, I was quite charmed by the exhibit and I’d kind of like to keep that sensation. It’s a tiny exhibit. Maybe 150 square feet in total, very bright, full of lots of memorabilia and other cool stuff – I’m kind of disappointed that I didn’t make it to the opening, in retrospect there probably was a lot of beer floating around, although I have no idea what brand they would have served.

Probably where the speeches and toasts were given at the Dites Donc Dow! opening at the Carrefour d'innovation INGO

I think a large part of why I was charmed was that for whatever reasons, I entered the exhibit backwards, and got waylaid by a wrestling match from sometime in the late 50s/early 60s. They had this display set up to look vaguely like a bar with three taps and in order to see one of the screens you had to pull a tap. Ingenious!! That way the videos weren’t on an endless loop, and it definitely made the whole thing feel very interactive. So, I went and pulled the first tap, and because Dow sponsored wrestling on TV back then the complete show started. I won’t spoil it and tell you who wins. Although I was confused by the fact that the portrait of the three men drinking beer used as a background was of men drinking Export and 50, and not Dow or at least some generic beer in a glass with no label.

The other two screens show some Dow TV ads and something like home movies from taverns “back in the day.” Again being able to watch them consecutively and from beginning to end was a pleasure. I particularly liked the one which was a complete rip-off of the James Bond opening sequence, but probably done for $20. After that I was smitten.

I then wondered around with a really silly smile on my face, looking at all the old bottles they had on display,

all the old print ads they had on display,

and ultimately it was just kind of nice being able to sort of let all this nostalgia just wash over me. Back when I was younger, I always had a soft spot for Dow (which was available as a brand of beer up until 1998). It, like Frontenac, wasn’t easy to find, but when I did come across a depanneur that carried it, I’d buy it, especially if it was in a quart bottle. From where my generation sits, you really can’t get more old school than that. Drinking Dow out of a quart bottle in 8 oz glasses, and adding some salt anytime the head on the beer got too flat for your taste. I don’t quite know where I developed the taste, but…

After wandering around looking at all the objects, I sort of scanned the wall tags that had all the text about the history of Dow Beer – for the most part when I go to see exhibits I do not go to read stuff on walls, I much prefer doing that outside. Indoor reading is best done with a book or computer screen. And then went on my merry way.

It wasn’t until afterwards, when I started doing some research for this review that I realized that the sensation of charm that I got was solely due to the fact that it was small, well lit, had multimedia stuff that I could control and had a lot of empty bottles. After seeing what was available online

Représentant la Brasserie Dow [image fixe] =Representative Dob Brewery Limited , image courtesy Bibliothèque et Archives nationales du Québec

Stuff like the above, that I started to realize that Claude-Sylvie Lemery, Mathieu Trépanier and Michel Simonsen (the researchers behind the exhibit) probably were severely hampered by a tiny budget, or at least I hope that they were severely hampered by a tiny budget. Because after seeing what was available on line, and then going back and looking at what they were able to present, I became more and more disenchanted.

A couple of things to point out.

Just about all the text is on the panels and walls, above is a shot of one of the panels about the history of the building. I have no idea why they decided to duplicate the dates (on all three panels the dates were duplicated). The panels themselves were at knee level, as if designed for elementary school children – although somehow I can’t see an elementary school taking a field trip to learn about beer. And then I have a vague memory (but no photos) of them explaining how beer is made. When I’m going to learn about the history of the Dow Brewery, I don’t give a rat’s ass about fermentation.

While it’s all fine and dandy to give a history of the National Breweries (of which Dow was a major part) and illustrate it with bottles and labels from the various breweries. The white bottles and irregular placement of the bottles made it extremely difficult for me to figure out who who was responsible for what bottle/label combination and the white bottles were extremely jarring to view.

And here, while giving lip service (49 words) to marketing, they don’t label any of the objects which leaves the viewer in a state of limbo trying to decide whether the objects are pretty with no clue as to when or why they were made. It becomes even more disheartening when you realize that they are all from one collection, which probably does have some information about the various objects.

Then finally, I think what disenchanted me most was the way they handled the deaths of the men in Quebec City

Using one of the larger panels in the entire exhibit along with the largest typeface in the exhibit, they proceed to gloss over the entire event. After 46 years I do not understand the compulsion to continue to hide things. If I can find out that the Dow Brewery in Quebec City was using 16 times the amount of cobalt sulfate as they were at the brewery in Montreal, I’m fairly certain Ms. Lemery, M. Trépanier and M. Simonsen could have as well. Instead of glossing over the event, it would have been a perfect place to actually name the victims. Instead of continuing to condemn them more than half a century later as nameless alcoholics. Instead of reproducing parts of barely legible articles from the newspapers of the time, what about possibly showing the episode of Tout le Monde en Parlait or finding out where they got their source material from?

My basic rule of thumb is that if I can find more information online than is given in the exhibit, and then use that information to point out mistakes in the exhibit, no matter how much I want to believe, it’s no longer a charming exhibit. Ultimately, the objects they display are nice and give a certain (very nice) sense of nostalgia for me – depending on how old you are, and where you were when you learned to drink you might not have the same visceral reaction to objects from your early adolescence – but that doesn’t make for a great exhibit.

Ultimately, I think it is Bergeron Gagnon inc.‘s responsibility. They are listed as doing the production and the exhibition design, so while I can easily see the researchers having the information, but the producer/designer vetoing things. But as I haven’t asked who did what, I really have clue. If anybody were to ask me (and nobody has, nor do I expect anyone will) for the next time they try to do a history of the Dow Brewery, a larger space should be used while less, much less words should be used. I’d label absolutely every object on display with as much information as I could get, and have a larger variety of objects on display but most importantly I wouldn’t gloss over the dozens of deaths in Quebec City in 1965 and 1966.

Despite my harshness, if you’re in the neighborhood with 15 to 30 minutes to spare, you should poke your nose in, if only to get the visitor count up, so that they continue to use the space for exhibits in the future. There is always hope.

Dites Donc Dow!
Carrefour d’innovation INGO
355 Rue Peel, Montréal, Québec
For a while (I can’t seem to find how long the show is up, but I guess at least through the summer, if not longer)

Art, Montréal, Painting, Québec, Ramble, Rave, Visual Art

The future belongs to crowds by Alain James Martin at Pink Espace

June 6, 2012 zeke

Howdy!

Over the weekend my timing was seriously off. I went to go see one exhibit that wouldn’t be opening for another two weeks, and then ended up at a second one almost two hours before the vernissage. Which actually, come to think of it, wasn’t half bad. For the most part, when alone, I hate, abhor, detest and really really dislike vernissages (aka art exhibit openings) and on Sunday, I was alone.

They are so bad, because a) because there are so many people, it’s always difficult, if not impossible to see the art. B) While there are exceptions, conversations with strangers about the art in front of you (that you haven’t really been able to see) can be awkward and difficult. C) Cheap wine is cheap wine. The gallery by offering it means well, but… D) Because I’m a sucker for most free stuff I end up drinking too much of it, which is never a good thing. E) Which leads to eating too much of the snack food, which is also not a good thing. F) ~~Occasionally,~~ Fairly often, some well meaning gallery owner will recognize me and try to buttonhole me, either earnestly trying to explain the art to me or very nicely, ask me my opinion about the art. And then G) Don’t even get me started about taking pictures.

But in this case it was perfect. As I was early, there was no one else there to block the art. As I was early the staff of the gallery were scurrying around opening bottles of wine, making party platters, etc and did not have that much time to buttonhole me. As I was early and the bottles of wine weren’t open, I didn’t drink the wine. Overall, if I can get my act organized I might just try to do it again.

Weegee Crowd at Coney Island, July 22, 1940, image courtesy The International Center of Photography

But enough of the preamble. If I had been organized and shown up a week after the vernissage, this is how I would have started this article: Pink Espace is one of my favorite galleries in the entire city for a variety of reasons. In no particular order, Pat Pink is a really nice person. Pink Espace is run kind of like Zeke’s Gallery was run (although Ms. Pink started running galleries way before Zeke’s opened and will be running galleries for a long long time after. Most of the art she exhibits is really good. And in the past when I would show up, I would bring a six-pack and she would join me in a beer as I looked and we discussed whatever she was exhibiting at the time. This time it was an exhibit by Alain James Martin (not this guy) called The future belongs to crowds. He snagged (or borrowed, depending on your perspective) the title from the last line of the prologue in Don DeLillo‘s book Mao II. He also snagged (or borrowed, depending on your perspective) the content of the show from two photographs taken by Weegee in 1940. In a nutshell, he made 13 different drawings of the photographs. Each one a variation on a theme, changing either the inks, the type of instrument or focusing in on a different part of the photographs (or quite possibly, and I did not have the patience to check, possibly combining parts from both photographs into a new drawing).

Installation view of The Future Belongs to Crowds by Alain James Martin at Pink Espace

Don DeLillo snagged (or borrowed, depending on your perspective) the title of his novel from an Andy Warhol painting. Given all this snagging (or borrowing) it’s a good thing that you can’t copyright a title… but I digress. However, I kind of like all this circular motion of art borrowing (or snagging) from other art. Not quite appropriation, but… And given that Mao II has a similar circularity, among other things it begins and ends with a wedding, it all seems rather appropriate. Contrary to Mr. DeLillo, I am quite fond of Weegee. I found out about him at about the same time Mr. DeLillo was writing Mao II. John Zorn had this band called Naked City that released an eponymous record which used a photograph by Weegee as its cover. As the internet wasn’t quite the thing that it is today, when I discovered that Mr. Martin was using a Weegee photograph as his source material, I exclaimed to Ms. Pink, “I didn’t know that Weegee took pictures of people who were still alive!”

The photographs themselves are called Crowd at Coney Island, July 22, 1940. In doing research, I couldn’t quite figure out if the photograph had been published anywhere during Weegee’s lifetime, but it is in the collections of both the International Center of Photography and MOMA. It’s also fairly small, especially in comparison to what Mr. Martin has done, pretty much 11″ x 14″. Whereas Mr. Martin’s largest drawing is 70″ x 38″. Also while doing research, it was a Sunday, both Alex Trebek and George Clinton were born (but neither in New York City, nor Coney Island) and Duke Ellington recorded four songs at RCA-Victor’s Studio 2. But none of that is here nor there with regards to the drawings by Mr. Martin. I just mention them in passing to give you a sense of what was up then.

Before I get too carried away with myself, I probably should try and explain to you what I saw. As I said, Mr. Martin basically copied the photograph 13 times. But the exhibit itself is much more than that. Whereas making a copy of a photograph using photographic means and methods was purely a chemical process and is now an electronic one. Making a copy of a photograph by drawing it yourself is very human. There are obviously going to be differences between the copy and the original. As well as differences between the copies themselves. Add to that, that Mr. Martin himself deliberately made changes in how he drew (changing frame colors, changing ink colors, changing pen types – fountain pen, crow quill tip – using a variety of tones with each color of ink, changing techniques – crosshatch, ink wash – as well as using different types of paper) along with choosing different parts of the photograph to copy and things can get dizzyingly confusing. However if you take a step back, it is way easier to view each of the drawings as something unique, which they are, things immediately become much simpler.

Crowds behave differently than individuals, there is a whole branch of psychology dealing with that. But it’s not worth getting into here. Seeing all 13 of the drawings together is an inherently different experience than looking at just one of the drawings. Each of the people in the original photographs taken 72 years-ago is an individual, but collectively they come together into something different. Mr. Martin by copying the original photographs probably has done more than anyone else has in regards to these specific pictures to break them down to their individual portraits. At some point, when I don’t have anything better to do, I’m going to have to go back to Pink Espace and plot out the drawings on a copy of the photographs to see for myself if he missed any spots. Ultimately though each drawing needs to be viewed individually. While the future may belong to crowds, the only way to understand that is by deciding that you agree, or disagree individually. There ain’t no crowd in the world that can make you change your own mind. If you prefer, and I kind of roll this way, they can be viewed as variations on a theme. Kind of making it obvious that they are unique and individual while at the same time accepting that they are linked.

Detail of Blue frame, 5 tone, ink crosshatch on Japanese paper by Alain James Martin at Pink Espace

In the press release Mr. Martin states that he was struck by the fact that “the scene is empty of mass-market merchandise and branding in all their forms.” I would respectfully disagree with him. While it is obvious that there are no logos in the way we are accustomed to seeing them today. I would bet dollars to doughnuts that due to the size of the original he wasn’t able to see the Coca-Cola and Pepsi bottles, the packs of Pall Mall, Chesterfield and Camel cigarettes, the Rheingold and Schaffer beer cans, the Levis’s jeans and the Converse sneakers. All of which would have been mass-marketed and branded. As well, since Weegee did not take a picture of the parking lots at Coney Island there are no Chevrolet, Chrysler, Ford or Cadillac logos to be seen, and since he didn’t take the picture on the boardwalk, there is no Nathan’s logo to be seen either. In choosing to use these specific photographs as his original source material he prevented himself from being able to see the mass marketing and branding. But it doesn’t mean that it wasn’t there.

I‘d also be extremely skeptical of the quote from Weegee that he uses in the press release

And this is Coney Island on a quiet Sunday afternoon … a crowd of over a million is usual and attracts no attention (I wonder who counts them) … it only costs a nickel to get there from any part of the city, and undressing is permitted on the beach. … Some come to bathe, but others come to watch the girls. A good spot being the boardwalk. … Of the families, some manage to get through the day without losing their children … but the city is prepared and at the Lost Child Shelter the crying kids are kept cooped up behind a barrier of chicken wire ’til their parents call for them … also in this shelter are kept the peddlers who are arrested for peddling on the beach … seeing their merchandise melt, the peddlers give their ice cream to the kids.- source

In 1940, the population of New York City was about 7.5 million. There is no way that 13% of NYC went to Coney Island, absolutely no way. In 1947 attendance for the whole year was five million. Also Weegee died in 1968 and the book where the quote is taken was published in 1975.

Bright Red frame, 5 tone, ink crosshatch on Japanese paper by Alain James Martin at Pink Espace

Then finally, I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least mention A country as big as a house, a series of watercolors done by Mr. Martin in the back room at Pink Espace of images from real estate listings. I think they’re all about 3″ x 5″ (maybe 4″ x 6″) in size and exquisite in nature. Initially done in 2008, it gives great insight into Mr. Martin’s ideas about making art and upon seeing all 50 of them it immediately makes perfect sense why he chose to copy Crowd at Coney Island, July 22, 1940.

This is running long now, and I probably should try and wrap things up. So while I’m not entirely convinced that the future belongs to crowds, I am 100% convinced that Mr. Martin’s The future belongs to crowds is an amazing series of drawings that really needs to be seen in person to be completely understood. The very nature of the task of copying such a small photograph so large is a feat to behold. Then once you start looking at what he has created, you can begin to appreciate both the exquisite nature of the drawings along with teh theoretical and historical nature behind it.

The future belongs to crowds by Alain James Martin at Pink Espace, 1399 Saint Jacques, Thursday to Sunday 13h to 17h.

Art, Montréal, Québec, Ramble, Rave, Review, Visual Art

Publicité Sauvage 25½, exhibit 5/15

May 25, 2012 zeke

Howdy!

Sometimes even the best intentioned plans get sidetracked. Back in January and February, I was all keen on seeing all 15 exhibits that Publicité Sauvage was organizing for their 25th anniversary. I saw the first three, got the book (thank you very much Emmanuel Galland) and then wasn’t able to get my sorry ass over to Dawson College in time to see the fourth. So my guess would be that other than the organizers, by the end of the year, no one will have seen all 15. Pity.

Installation view of Publicité Sauvage 25½, exhibit 5/15

After kicking myself from here to Timbuktu, getting depressed and sulking around lots, I got got up, got dressed and made my way down to the Cinémathèque Québécoise to see the fifth exhibit. Like the first three (and I presume the fourth) it was more documentary in nature than artistic. Initially, when I saw the first three I had some difficulties, because I was expecting a more artsy show, and adjusting my expectations accordingly on the fly wasn’t exactly as easy as falling out of bed.

But this time I knew what I was getting myself into. I still was left with a small, very small, disappointment, but not from expectations not being met. On the flip side, I was pleasantly surprised to see how popular exhibit number five was at the Cinémathèque Québécoise. It kind of makes sense, people going to see a film tend to arrive early, and as there is no popcorn or candy, people tend to congregate in front of the screening rooms themselves, and that’s exactly where the exhibit was located. Then upon some thought, I realized (and you might, too) that people going to the Cinémathèque Québécoise probably have a higher interest in all things film than your average person, and you have the magic formula for getting people interested and engaged in an exhibit of posters.

The show itself was organized into two sections. Festivals and films. You gotta remember that these exhibits are all based on the idea of exhibiting posters that Publicité Sauvage had initially be hired to post all over town. I don’t know how the selection was made for either them initially being hired, or in choosing what to exhibit now. Although I imagine that there was a certain amount of “natural selection” involved in the exhibit, as I strongly doubt that when they started anyone methodically and consistently did any archiving. It was kind of a given that the posters exhibited at the Cinémathèque Québécoise would be film based.

On the festival side, they seemed to have one example from each film festival in town (and there are a bunch). Visually none of them knocked my socks off. But then when I started looking at the tags a little bit closer, I discovered that the poster for the 15th Montreal World Film Festival had been originally drawn by Federico Fellini, not exactly what I was expecting. And that a friend of mine, Rupert Bottenberg was responsible for the 1999 Fantasia film festival poster.

Poster for the 15th Montreal World Film Festival by Federico Fellini

On the actual film side, I wasn’t able to figure out if there was any similar type of theme with regards to what was exhibited. There weren’t any names that jumped out at me, and since I am such a massive Québécois film buff, absolutely all the posters were instantaneously recognizable and brought a flood of memories streaming back. (For those of you who might be challenged to recognize sarcasm, that last sentence was it – I think if I tried real hard I knew that there was a film called Les Invasions Barbares, and I might have some brain cells that also recall Le Party. But I haven’t seen either one, and all the others are complete blanks.

Fantasia Fest 1999 poster by Rupert Bottenberg

This is where the tiny bit of disappointment set in. I have no idea if these are the best movies that they promoted, or if they did something like choose one per year, or if this is the entire stock they have. I would have liked to see something explaining the choices made and the significance of the choices.

Poster for 30 Ans. Yes Sir! Madame by Yvan Adam

I guess I’m going to have to buckle down and read the darn book to see if it sheds any light. And for those interested, exhibit 7/15 is going to be shown at the Monument National from June 5 to August 5. And if you are interested in the complete list it is here.

Art, Ramble, Rave, Review, Visual Art

Bettina Forget’s One Random Year

May 21, 2012 zeke

Howdy!

My good friend Bettina Forget spent a good chunk of 2011 documenting her life – I only figured it would be fair to view her documentation. As a consequence, I think I am part of a small and select group of people who have seen all six hours, plus of it.

Advertisement for Bettina Forget's One Random Year Short Video

~~Allow me to back up slightly, I believe that as one of her 2010 Christmas gifts, she got a flip camera.~~ [Edit: Actually, she bought herself a Sanyo Exacti earlier in 2010] One of those tiny and incredibly easy to use video cameras that are almost the size of a cigarette lighter. Maybe not as a consequence, but as a result of having the video camera she decided to film one minute of every day for the entire year. Unfortunately, at the end of November, it broke. But fortunately she had an iPhone so she was able to still film stuff, until she got a new camera in the middle of December.

Now there are scads and scads of people who film, or otherwise document themselves or their world on a daily basis (click here for a selection or here for more) but what set Bettina’s apart from the others – or at least made it different to me – was that she was doing this in order to find if there was some sort of narrative thread in her life.

Bettina Forget's One Random Year Still Frame December 2

I think that the end of 2010 might have been rough for Bettina. She never told me explicitly, but I’m always trying to connect the dots and from my perspective, asking if there is, and then looking for a narrative thread is indicative of some basic questions on why and what is happening in one’s life. Either that, or she got some kind of book deal to fictionalize her life, or possibly needed some reason to learn how to use iMovie or some other video editing software.

As the year progressed she made short videos of each month. Which kind of gave an advance preview of what the finished project would look like (see below for all of them). I was (and am still) on her mailing list, so there were a bunch of times when I realized that it was a new month and as well as remembering that I had to pay rent, I also wondered what Bettina had been up to and what that month’s video would look like. More specifically, how many places would I recognize.

Beyond the folks who look to document stuff daily, there is also a subsection of the arts that invests itself in endurance film projects. For the most part, I try and avoid them. If I am going to do some sort of endurance art, I’m much more likely to choose something aural . But I don’t know if there has been that much cross-over between the daily documentalists and the extreme film folk. Or actually, the type of crossover that would result in One Random Year. Because the documentalists try to make their videos kind of short, you know condense 20 years into 5 minutes.

Bettina Forget's One Random Year Still Frame October 9

Condensing one year into six hours kind of strikes me as being neither fish nor fowl. Anyhows, this just serves as a long winded way to give up some background before we get down to the nitty-gritty of trying to find that narrative thread.

For those of you that aren’t quite certain (the non-English literature majors, the folk whose second (or third) language is English, etc) a narrative is “an account, report, or story, as of events, experiences, etc.” Then a narrative thread would be a sequence of narratives. So no matter how hard she tried there is no way that her life doesn’t have a narrative. If only as a series of sentences, first I did this, then I did this, then I did this, etc.

But the harder thing is to try to make that narrative thread, that sequence of “events, experiences, etc” into some cohesive whole that not only makes sense but can also resonate with other people. Make it larger, more important and significant than just a series of one minute videos strung together. This is where I had an inside advantage. Since I am about as far from a complete stranger to Bettina as you can get, I think there were only something like four days where I was not able to recognize something, someone or alternatively understand what was happening in the whole video. Heck I was actually involved in something like nine of them, either as a subject or being there while she filmed.

Bettina Forget's One Random Year Still Frame June 26

Bettina Forget's One Random Year Still Frame February 8

While I was watching, I was scrawling all sorts of notes about where the shot was filmed, whether it was static or the camera moved, who was in it, if I has seen a similar shot and all sorts of other things like that. But what I ultimately found most interesting was how when someone sat down to watch it with me, how it was almost de rigeur to have a conversation. Not necessarily about what was on the screen and being shown. But sometimes on a tangential topic. Also, Bettina had set up the gallery as a close approximation of her living room, and I found that because of the video I ended up concentrating a lot more on the paintings on the wall than I would have otherwise.

I‘m certain there are scads of people with multiple PhD.s who have come up with some multisyllabic words to describe the effect. But since I don’t read that kind of trash, it’s obvious I’m going to have to try to reinvent the wheel, and I’d call it something like the Muzak effect.

Back when I was a child there were a bunch of companies that I hated to my core. One of them being the Muzak Corp. The idea of something being made to occupy just a part of your brain with background music while you did other more important things was infuriating to me. I thought (and still do think) that when I listen to music it should kind of be front and center in my consciousness.

Well, thanks to Muzak, there actually is now a style of music called Ambient. Having some useless melody noodling around in the background has now become mandatory in North America. Despite my dislike, it appears that they won.

Bettina Forget's One Random Year Still Frame March 6

Anyhows, it appears that there is the same effect in film. For the most part One Random Year is a series of static shots (by my count there were only 17 times when the camera moved). Ambient film, as with ambient music, almost demands that it be talked over. While I can recognize the effect, I’m not entirely certain that I appreciate it. I much prefer to concentrate on what I am looking at, and for that matter hearing, tasting, smelling or touching, as well.

That all being said, I seem to be in the minority. During the six-plus hours I was watching the video, 16 other people came in, wandered around and left. They all seemed quite content to let it fade into the background. For the most part they hung around for about a minute or two (although there were two separate couples, that hung around long enough to experience more than a week of Bettina’s life). All of them were talking or chatting, and when Bettina came and watched a bit with me (or her friend Anne-Marie) the need to talk seemed ever present.

Bettina Forget's One Random Year Still Frame December 26

As I was taking notes (all good art critics always take notes, right?) it quickly became similar to a game of concentration. Not only did I want to try to recognize as much of Bettina’s life as possible, but make note when she redid something a second time or more.

I think that might have come from this incessant need to identify the narrative thread. After all, if you do something a bunch of times, it’s got to mean something, right? Well, by my count (yes, I know, sketchy at best) there were 21 times when she filmed herself making art in 2011. There were 18 vernissages, 12 restaurants, 11 days doing something astronomical, eight times at CKUT, five times working on her laptop at home, four views of her apartment window (although there were a lot of different shots of her apartment and some of other windows in her apartment as well), four of the Parc avenue bus, three of her washing dishes, and two of the same tree.

Bettina Forget's One Random Year Still Frame May 17

I‘ll leave it up to you to decide if that means that Bettina spent about a quarter of her year doing the same sort of things (those repetitions add up to 88 days or about 24% of the year) or if it means that Bettina likes making art about the stars while eating out at CKUT, or something else. Also an awful lot of it is filmed (as you would expect) in and around the Belgo building, where she has her studio and Parc and Laurier, where she lives.

Bettina Forget's One Random Year Still Frame April 12

But this is where the documentalism kind of breaks down. Because she didn’t film the same thing everyday, it’s very easy to place more significance on what was filmed than what wasn’t. But just because a particular part of her day was filmed does not mean that that part was the most significant part of her day. In fact I would venture a guess that for the most part, the things that were filmed were rather mundane.

However, there were two days, June 8 and June 15 which stick out like sore thumbs. One those two days, she did not document something that she had done that day, but instead decided to create something specifically for One Random Year. On June 8, she is holding a game of Boggle and shaking the cubes that starts out spelling L-O-V-E and then with successive shakes disintegrates into a series of Es and Os.

This in and of itself wouldn’t stick out so much, as it is only about one minute in a more than six hour film, if it hadn’t been for the video the following week. On June 15, we see the word “LOVE” painted on something white. Then slowly and very deliberately, Bettina uses a large brush with white paint to obliterate the word and make it disappear. The combination of the two of them, so close to each other was kind of like a flashing light with a loud siren on top of a firetruck to me. Absolutely every other segment in the film is documentary in nature. Recording something that she did. These are the only two days where she filmed (I think) she thought. When I asked her if June 15 had been her anniversary, she said “no.”

Bettina Forget's One Random Year Still Frame June 15

I should also make mention of how the gallery was set up. There was a couch some plants, a second chair (I think) the TV, some of Bettina’s paintings on the wall behind the TV and along the two walls perpendicular to the TV were six, individual month long calendars, each with a still frame from that day’s video. I’m not sure if the calendars added anything to the show, other than making it appear to be more installation-like.

Overall, One Random Year was a great experience, and highly worthwhile. It makes it as obvious as the nose on my face that it is impossible to have an abstract structure to one’s life (or at least that would be what I would consider the opposite of the narrative thread to a life), but the next time around it would be interesting to see the results in a non-chronological order. Maybe stringing them together by color, content, character or something else. There are an infinite number of ways to tell a story. While I’m a big fan engaging the artist, I’m an even bigger fan of engaging the viewer. But I’m not certain that, despite having a video camera, I’m going to start filming a minute of my day, each and every day for the next 365 days.

Bettina Forget's One Random Year Short Video for January

Bettina Forget's One Random Year Short Video for February

Bettina Forget's One Random Year Short Video for March

Bettina Forget's One Random Year Short Video for April

Bettina Forget's One Random Year Short Video for May

Bettina Forget's One Random Year Short Video for June

Bettina Forget's One Random Year Short Video for July

Bettina Forget's One Random Year Short Video for August

Bettina Forget's One Random Year Short Video for September

Bettina Forget's One Random Year Short Video for October

Bettina Forget's One Random Year Short Video for November

Bettina Forget's One Random Year Short Video for December

Bettina Forget's One Random Year Short Greatest Hits Video

Art, Montréal, Québec, Ramble, Rant, Rave, Review, Sculpture, Visual Art

Valérie Blass, Ghada Amer and Wangechi Mutu at the Musée d’art contemporain de Montréal

April 24, 2012 zeke 1 Comment

Howdy!

I’m not quite certain what to think. Nor how to think. Do I approach each show separately? Or do I group Valérie Blass, Ghada Amer and Wangechi Mutu all together and do just one review? If I was good, I think I would have preferred to have done separate reviews for each one. But since I’m not, I’m going to group them all together, just like the museum did.

First order of business; did you know that in between January 8, 2006 and November 5, 2008, 1,032 days, or about two months short of three years, the Musée d’art contemporain de Montréal did not have a single solo exhibition by a woman? I can’t help but thinking that this set of three solo shows by women was somehow organized to make up for that. But then again it has been over three years, maybe it just worked out that they happened to schedule three solo shows by women all at the same time by coincidence.

Second order of business; juxtaposing a Quebecois artist with limited international exposure up against two internationally known artists can and does have a way of biting you in the ass.

Third order of business; I don’t know if it is due to insecurity, incompetence or insomething else. But I would bet dollars to doughnuts with anyone who is interested, that I am the only person writing about art exhibits at the Musée d’art contemporain de Montréal who is also a member of the Musée d’art contemporain de Montréal’s foundation. As a consequence I was quite surprised to find out that I was not invited to neither the press conference nor the vernissage for the latest exhibit they mounted, La Question de l’abstraction. Insecurity, because I get the distinct impression that my series of humorous rhymes about the Triennale went over like a lead balloon. Incompetence, because if you can’t manage to invite the people who give you money without being asked there is something seriously wrong. I will wait with baited breath to see what happens at the end of May for the Zoo exhibit.

But all of that is neither here, nor there when it comes to talking about the art of Valérie Blass, Ghada Amer and Wangechi Mutu. More along the lines of background material, so that you know where my thoughts are coming from as I type this. To get the easy stuff out of the way first. I’ve never been much of a fan of Valérie Blass’ work and I had never heard of Ghada Amer and Wangechi Mutu before seeing their work at the museum. After seeing the shows I still wasn’t much of a fan of Valérie Blass’ work but I now was familiar with the work of Ghada Amer and Wangechi Mutu.

If I were to try and sum up each artist’s work in a line. I’d say that Ghada Amer sews images on to canvas. Wangechi Mutu scares the living bejeezus out of me. And Valérie Blass make three dimensional collages. For what it is worth, it is actually fairly easy to see the common line that links the work of all three artists. It’s spelled C-O-L-L-A-G-E. But you’d figure that the Musée d’art contemporain de Montréal wouldn’t be as simplistic to group three artists just because they were women who combined things that they found into new assemblages, would you?

But anytime you juxtapose art, there’s bound to be some joker who tries to link everything, no matter how tenuous that link is. I guess I’m that joker, today. One way to avoid things like that in the future would be to have three separate openings for the three separate shows. Something like one every week or month probably would be sufficient to make each of the shows by the artists separate in the mind of the public. But then again, I could be wrong, and be the only person in the entire universe who was unable to think of the exhibits as being unlinked. Oh well.

So now I think it’s time to get down to brass tacks. So that no one gets their nose out of joint, I’m going to approach each artist’s section of the show separately, before trying to link them together in a more formal and structured manner (if I can) and I’m going to do them in alphabetical order by their first name. Everyone knows that a last name is a social residue left over from when society was not only patriarchal and patrilinear, but also run by jerks and assholes. I’m also not going to give any background on the artists. If you are at all interested in that, there are some mighty fine catalogues that the Musée d’art contemporain de Montréal has published which in and around the multisyllabic words give you a good idea of where each of the artists came from. Or you can use Google.

Ghada Amer. The first time I saw Ms. Amer’s work, it looked extremely delicate, not quite lace-like, not quite like cotton candy on canvas, not quite like teased hair. But like the middle section of a Venn diagram of the three. From a distance, it wasn’t easy to tell what materials she was using and for the most part everything seemed pretty abstract.

The second time I saw Ms. Amer’s work, I realized that the first time I had been very wrong and must have obviously been smoking some crack that was stronger than I was used to, in order to have thought her work was delicate. There’s a quote going around the internet that’s being attributed to Betty White, but probably wasn’t said by her, nonetheless it makes a point. “Why do people say “grow some balls”? Balls are weak and sensitive. If you wanna be tough, grow a vagina. Those things can take a pounding” Ms. Amer’s work is like that vagina, it’s been pounded. Pounded in order to be created, pounded in order to be looked at, and pounded in order to be understood.

Let’s start with the easiest first. In order to make her work, I believe that Ms. Amer has either got to be using some kind of super industrial sewing machine, or an awl that could also double as an ice pick. While the holes she punches in the canvases aren’t necessarily large in and of themselves, they are all over the place and way more than it would take to fill the Albert Hall. She then threads some thread (duh!) through the holes.

The reason you need to pound in order to look at her work – and in case you hadn’t figured it out I’m using the word “pound” as a synonym for “work hard” – is that there is an awful lot of threading going on in each individual piece.

Installation shot of Ghada Amer exhibit at the Musée d'art contemporain de Montréal.

And you have to work hard when looking at her work, because behind just about every bit of thread is a second set of images, mostly copied from mainstream culture. Giving all sorts of fodder for the Phd’s in the house to go wild over layering and contrast provided by the two very separate images, ideas and thoughts.

There’s also a large egg shaped object made out of some type of plastic called 100 words of love

Ghada Amer, 100 Words of Love, picture courtesy Art Hag

Which basically takes this idea translates it into Arabic and makes it three dimensional. When I saw it for the second time I spent way too long going over it looking for a seam or a seal or something to indicate how it was joined together, but couldn’t find one. Personally, I think that while it’s a pretty enough object and a nice enough sentiment, something got lost in translation (sorry, I couldn’t help myself there).

Wangechi Mutu is apparently known mostly for her collages. But I would never have known it in a million years if I based it on my impressions on what she’s got up at the museum. And while I’m certain that there were some collages on the walls of the museum, somewhere, they got completely wiped from whatever little memory I had of the exhibit because there are five (or six, depending on what you call art) pieces there, that just completely and utterly blow anything and everything else out of the water, blow them out of the way, and blow my mind.

Unfortunately, I have no idea what the heck they are called, because I was left so slack jawed at them, that I completely forgot to take notes and incorrectly presumed that the museum would be responsible enough to make some reference to them in the catalogue. But nope, no such luck there. If all you were to do was to read the catalogue for Ms. Mutu’s show you’d get the idea that there was some completely different type of exhibit that happened. While I recognize that it is a document of and about the exhibit, it’s like an entirely separate universe.

The catalogue is all brightness and light, big on the feminist theories and post colonialism, using two-bit words like they’re going out of style. Whereas the exhibit itself is darkness and brooding, somewhat threatening (I told you it scared the living bejeezus out of me) very spooky and completely (sorry about the two-bit word) visceral. Kind of like having someone throw a bag over your head and then start beating you with a bag of oranges. Not quite, but close enough.

Most of the space for Ms. Mutu’s work has walls that are covered in brown felt, which makes for a very somber environment. Then after walking around I came across what I’m calling The Thrones.

Installation shot from Wangechi Mutu's exhibit at the Musée d'art contemporain de Montréal.

Now that I’m looking at the picture closer, they don’t look half as intimidating as they do in real life. The feet are really pointy, and someone could easily lose an eye if they were careless. They towered over me not like a Goliath, but more like a very angry sasquatch, or Dr Honorious, or Dr. Maximus from the original Planet of the Apes films. I have no idea if they were supposed to make me feel weak, insignificant and beholden, but they did. And even weirder, was the fact that I found it really hard to look at them straight on.

Once I had those kind of emotions running around inside me, there really wasn’t any holding back. Over on the other side of the gallery were a bunch of wine bottles suspended upside down from string over some white plates. But the bottles themselves were full had some sort of contraption over their mouth that if I squinted slightly and used some free associative techniques could be considered to be like a miniature Hannibal Lecter mask.

They hid just enough, and enabled the wine to drip out very slowly. Slowly enough that I have made a note in my agenda to go back to see the show a third time just before it closes so that I can see just how much wine has been spilled.

Now it’s not like each bottle was lined up precisely over each plate, and in case you hadn’t realized it already, the wine was red. So without too too much of a stretch, if I’m already feeling weak, insignificant and beholden due to what I’m calling The Thrones, it wasn’t hard for what I’m calling The Bottles to get me feeling all vulnerable and guilty. What with the wine looking like blood, and the bottles being a replacement for some kind of lynching scene. I’m kind of annoyed with myself that I wasn’t able to get back to the museum before the show closed to see how much wine/blood was on the plates and the floor.

Then again, I could be very wrong and it all could be just some kind of elaborate physics experiment to measure the effects of gravity on colored water and openings a various diameters.

In between what I’m calling The Thrones and what I’m calling The Bottles was what I’m calling The Tinsel. And while it probably would be fairly easy to succumb to some kind of dark thoughts while experiencing it, it left me in wonder and awe, instead. Basically it’s a large cube like space that stretches down from the ceiling that has golden tinsel streamers as it’s walls. As a consequence, it is extremely easy to walk through the streamers and get inside the cube. Kind of like finding a place to stand behind the waterfall, or the latch to the hidden chamber.

On the flip side, it’s also real easy to assume that The Tinsel itself was some kind of wall or barrier. Especially since a lot of the other walls of the museum were covered in felt. And as a consequence not even think to wander into the inner sanctum – probably because of the lack of a creaking door.

There also was some awesome and amazing structure in front of the Moth Girls – the piece that the museum bought that probably was influential in enabling them to get the exhibit – that looked for the life of me like some sort of 150 year-old gnarled tree or something.

I’m not quite what to make of Moth Girls. It definitely is not half as terrifying or scary as what I’m calling The Bottles and what I’m calling The Thrones. Obviously requiring more contemplation than I was willing to give them (it’s tough to bring your pulse down when it’s going like a pneumatic drill) it also didn’t give off that “I found something!” sensation that what I’m calling The Tinsel did. And so while I’m certain that something significant can and will be made of it, I quite like the idea that it was made because Ms. Mutu’s apartment was infested with moths.

There were other pieces by Ms. Mutu in the show, and I’m kind of annoyed with myself that I can’t remember more about (or took a picture of) the piece with the naturalized animal, but the only memories I have of her collages are from the catalogue, and as I said that is a whole ‘nother thing.

Which brings us to Valérie Blass. I wish I could write something really witty cool and nice about her work. Sadly I can’t. And while I could write something witty, sarcastic and mean – which if done well would make for some entertaining reading – I really don’t have that in me either. Ms. Blass’ work not only leaves me “blah” it also makes me sad.

Installation shot of Valerie Blass' exhibit. Image courtesy of Valerie Blass and Facebook.

For the most part I believe down to the marrow of my bones that there are an awful lot of really amazing and super-duper artists here in Quebec (and by extension Canada). But recently the Google Art Project went global. And when it did, there was not a single Canadian Museum included (for comparison there were six in Australia, two in New Zealand, one in South Africa, and, and, and. Since the global launch the AGO has signed on – but still no Quebecois institution.

I can’t help but thinking that it has something to do with the fact that institutions like the Musée d’art contemporain de Montréal are promoting and hyping artists like Ms. Blass. The contemporary equivalent of whomever did the copy of the Mona Lisa at the Prado. Significant and important, but only to a point, and not really doing anything original.

Gluing found objects together and then casting them in porcelain is all fine and dandy, and makes for some pretty shiny objects ~~that you can look at while holding your chin and nodding your head slowly~~ (I said I wasn’t going to write something witty, sarcastic and mean, sorry). Pretty and shiny objects, do not, by virtue of being pretty and shiny deserve to be exhibited in a museum.

Dans la pose très singulière qui est la mienne, by Valérie Blass. Image courtesy http://cuisineetc.wordpress.com/

I am 100% convinced that Ms. Blass’ technique is superlative. That her instincts are true, and that she makes really nice things. But if anyone out there can explain to me how Ms. Blass’ work affects them as emotionally as Ms. Amer’s or Ms. Mutu’s work did me, I’m all ears. While Ms. Blass’ pieces didn’t repulse me, they just left me feeling like I was walking through some high-end home furnishing store looking for something that would be perfect in the nook. (OK, I apologize, I obviously wanted to get mean and sarcastic – Ms. Blass, when you read this, it is not intended as a personal attack, it is intended as a way to keep any readers who are left at this point, entertained.)

Déjà donné, by Valérie Blass. Image courtesy http://cuisineetc.wordpress.com/

When I see what I think are the equivalent of home furnishings in a major Canadian museum, I can kind of understand why Canadian (and by extension Quebecois) art doesn’t get the respect it deserves on an international level. Frustrating, yes. Annoying, yeah. But, if they don’t invite me to the press conferences after I write about the art they exhibit and the openings after I give them money to be a member, it’s obvious as the nose on my face that they and I don’t see things the same way. So what am I going to do?

This is almost up at 3,000 words now, I kind of get the impression that if there is still anyone reading this far in, they are a blood relation. So in order to tie everything up (I said I was going to try) and enable my family to get on with other things more important than reading what I write… It’s obvious that there is an extremely limited public who is interested in Quebecois art, and I betcha dollars to doughnuts, unfortunately, that it isn’t likely to change in the near future.

Pity.

Performance, Ramble, Rave, Review

Kolik, by Rainald Goetz, directed by Hubert Colas, acted by Thierry Raynaud

April 13, 2012 zeke

Howdy!

By my count there were approximately 120 (one hundred and twenty) shots. More than 4½ bottles of vodka. More than enough to kill someone. Back at the end of March I got to see Thierry Raynaud in a play called Kolik by Rainald Goetz, which was directed by Hubert Colas at Usine C. (That’s a mouthful!) That’s where the shots were. It’s a fairly sparse play, in short, M. Raynaud is sitting on stage in front of a table with a bunch of glasses on it. During the course of 70 minutes (an average if 1.7 shots/minute) he rants on and about a variety of subjects and in general portrays a very ugly drunk. But that’s not the half of it. That’s kind of like saying there are a couple of books at the library.

But before I go on, I probably should give some background, since in poking around on the internet, there isn’t too too much about Kolik, Mr. Goetz, Mr. Colas and Mr. Raynaud in English. As far as I can tell, Mr. Goetz is some kind of avant-garde, experimental German playwright. Mr. Colas appears to be a very influential and important director of plays in France and Mr. Raynaud a kick-ass French actor who has worked with Mr. Colas since 1994.

Back in the eighties he wrote a trilogy called “Kreig,” (War in English). In the first part, I think it’s about how society deals with war, in the second part, family and war, and the third part – Kolik (colic in English) brings war down to the personal level. I have no idea if the first two parts played at Usine C and I just missed them, or if this was a oneshot deal.

But no, never mind, Kolik stands up on its own, and it was only in reading the press kit and other stuff that I could find on line, after the fact that I discovered it was part of a larger whole. As far as I could tell while it might have been cool and/or interesting to see the first two parts of the trilogy, it was not necessary.

Kolik, by Rainald Goetz. Photo courtesy of Dipthing.com

Anyhows, now that we got the background out of the way, we can proceed to the foreground. 120 shots. 1.7 shots/minute for the entire duration of the play. But despite the overdosing on alcohol, one of the first things that occurred to me was, did the Automatistes ever do any spoken word performances? The way the shole things was done, if I didn’t know any better, it would have been extremely simple to think that Mr. Raynaud was just doing some sort of stream of consciousness rant – and in fact I might have believed he was, had Mr. Goetz not been given credit for the text.

Thanks to Rue89.com and Google Translate, this is how it would start if someone did a half-assed translation into English:

Brain
grime
man
Come on
dark
(go) faster
quickly
out
human
man
Go on
recumbent
Tip-shit
Brain dog dirt
grime
grime
Grime fucking dog fucking
Laying there-
Brain-shit
God fucking damn dirt
Outside of dog shit

Each word being barked out, as if Mr. Raynaud was himself the Tip-shit Brain dog dirt in the grime. Just a little bit aggressive, although to be honest I wasn’t thinking that it was going to be a nice relaxing night at the theatre.

At various points, I was thinking that maybe they were trying to make some connection to Tourette’s Syndrome. But then given the amount of drinking involved, there was also the one time, when I kind of wished I had seen Broue. Not that I honestly thought that the two plays shared anything in common, beyond the drinking, but so that I would be better able to see the extremes. But despite Broue having been performed since Methuselah was knee high to a grasshopper, somehow I haven’t been able to get my act together to go and dee it. Pity.

And then there were the two pages of notes that I took that consisted of the word “drink,” repeated about two dozen times on each page. Given the nature of the performance (it being in French, me being a bloke and a a squarehead, along with me writing my notes in English) there were sometimes where it just seemed appropriate to let the words cascade over me. Not quite like music, nor like a shower, but more like dirt. You know the sensation when you’re digging a tunnel and suddenly part of it caves in on you? And you end up with dirt in your eyes, ears, mouth and every other place you can think of? Like that.

Kolik by Rainald Goetz with Thierry Raynaud. Photo coutrtesy dipthong.com

“He drinks
I
yet
but why
Question why Word
Answer strict order
Question why strict order of words
Response in exercise maximum rigor of the test material
Question why resistance test word
reply Hate
Word-response shut up
Word hush ai ai
Discipline-word response
I hate repeat
I do not ask why
I say I say this material is
Hate-word response
I say hate
hate hate
He drinks“

Again from rue89.com and Google Translate. And did I mention the approximately 120 shots that are consumed during the course of the performance? Easily the equivalent of three 40 pounders.

Mr. Raynaud’s character is angry and pissed off, and as far as I can tell probably dies. While I was watching him perform, I was not quite as conscious of any specific war-like parallels or analogies. But now safely ensconced in the library, where they have some of Mr. Goetz’s work if some teacher asked me to knock together some sort of paper outlining how Kolik was about the war, I wouldn’t balk too too much. Just from my Psych 101 knowledge of Post-traumatic stress disorder it would be fairly easy. Using just a little brain power, it would become a slam dunk. But since I don’t have much of the script to quote from, and seeing how it’s really early in the morning and I don’t quite have access to all the brain power I would like, you’re just going to have to take me at my word.

Kolik by Rainald Goetz with Thierry Raynauld. Photo courtesy 23h32.com

During the course of the performance I only heard two people leave, so obviously, it isn’t for everyone. But now in retrospect, I kind of get a feeling that some people would walk out on a play by Eugène Ionesco or Samuel Beckett. And while I don’t want anyone to infer that I think Kolik is theatre of the absurd, going to see it in the same frame of mind as you would The Bald Soprano or Waiting for Godot. Although now that I am doing cursory research, I’d venture a guess that there are some striking similarities to the plays of David Mamet. I should also mention the almost ghost-like video that is projected on the back wall of the theatre that kept me engaged for far longer than it should have, given that I was barely able to make out what was on it.

In the middle of the play things get very dark and Mr. Raynaud’s speech comes out of a bunch of speakers in different places in the theatre. But despite these bits of high-tech gadgetry the play really remains and belongs entirely to Mr. Goetz and Mr. Raynaud. The power of the words, and the the power of their presentation is such, that even if you were to watch the play with your eyes closed you’d understand it completely.

Dance, Performance, Ramble, Rave, Review

Kidd Pivot, The You Show

April 11, 2012 zeke

Howdy!

Color me embarrassed! Last month I went to go see The You Show by Kidd Pivot Frankfurt RM, and it wasn’t until long after I had seen the show that I discovered that instead of it being one dance performance in four acts, that it was in fact four separate dances combined together to make an evening’s program. Oooops. (And it’s obvious that my habit of going into a performance attempting to be a tabula rasa works). Then on top of that, my notes, which get scrawled in the dark, and sometimes are extremely difficult to decipher after the fact, somehow got mixed up and taken out of order. So I wasn’t certain that lines that I had written, such as “repetition of voice / with new moves / switch to her” were referring to something that happened before or after “moving together / all others leave / and we’re back to two.”

But I think I have everything sorted out as best as I can, and can attempt to make some sense out of what I saw (apologies, again for my lack of timeliness, but as per normal, things here have been busy). I find life is so much easier when I don’t really have to force some sort of narrative on something that doesn’t have one. Plus in this case, there are a whack of other reviews and articles to draw from and react to.

(Dance Magazine, The New York Times, The Globe and Mail, World Arts Today, Solomons Says, Seeing Things, Vancouver Courier, Dfdanse, Ottawa Citizen and Rover)

In this particular case I find it fascinating that without too much trouble I was able to find over a dozen reviews from a variety of places (at first I was concerned that they were all from North America, but then looking at Kidd Pivot Frankfurt RM’s website it appears that it has only been performed outside of North America in three places. It’s also a little weird that it has been performed 22 different times in eight different cities in the rest of the world versus nine times in two cities here in Quebec. I wonder if there are any other international touring companies that spend 30% of their time here in Quebec? But I digress).

The reviews, as you might expect, were all over the place. Most took advantage of the fact that there were four different pieces to say that three of the four were great and one was not. But there was no consensus on which one sucked. I particularly enjoyed Wendy Perron’s take over at Dance Magazine, where she wrote “I’m skipping the third duet because it didn’t add much…” Imagine skipping the third side of Tommy, because it didn’t add much. Or skipping the lobster omelette in your review of the Pied de Cochon’s sugar shack? If you’re reviewing it, review the whole thing. Not just the good bits.

Anne Plamondon in A Picture of You Falling, picture by Micheal Slobodian

As for my take? Overall I thought it was quite good. The dancers (Eric Beauchesne, Peter Chu, Ariel Freedman, Sandra Marín Garcia, Yannick Matthon, Anne Plamondon, Ji?í Pokorný, Cindy Salgado and Jermaine Maurice Spivey) were all amazing to varying degrees – great amazing, really good amazing, very good amazing and just plain amazing.

In my notes the only dancer that I singled out happened to be Ms. Plamondon. I wrote “she quite accomplished dancer (sic).” But at the time I didn’t know that in fact she was who she was. Personally I think that her background (or what I know of her background, I’m no walking dance encyclopedia) in both Les Grands Ballets Canadiens and Rubberbandance Group serves her well in dancing to Ms. Pite’s work. Where Rubberbandance does a very obvious and direct combination of hip-hop and classical dance techniques. From what I have seen of Kidd Pivot, their work appears to me to be more variations and modifications on hip-hop while leaning heavily on the rigorousness of both classical dance techniques and training.

Eric Beauchesne and Jiri Pokorny in The Other You, photo by Michale Slobodian

The variations and modifications, for the most part work way more often than they don’t. Again, I think when it works, it has more to do with the caliber of the of the dancers in Kidd Pivot and when it doesn’t more to do with the caliber of the choreography. Or in blunter terms and plainer English, Ms. Pite is obviously trying to combine old moves (for the lack of a better term) in new ways while at the same time develop new moves. Because the dancers in her company are so good, most of the choreography shines really well. But occasionally, Ms. Pite stretches too far, tries too hard and no matter how good the dancers are, the moves aren’t as bright. Unlike Ms. Perron, I thought that the parts that didn’t work, were exactly that, small parts within the larger piece, not entire pieces.

If I were to get specific, one of the parts that didn’t work for me was when everybody else turns Ms. Garcia and Mr. Spivey into Transformers in A Picture of You Flying

I must’ve spent over an hour searching through my files trying to find the other time I’ve seen dancers become Transformers, however my searching skills are obviously not up to snuff, because for the life of me, I can’t. But I am completely convinced (unless I made it up) that I’ve seen something similar before. But whether or not I have almost becomes secondary, because beyond being derivative I thought there were other reasons why it didn’t work.

While it was obvious that Ms. Pite wanted something cinematographic, it ended up turning the piece into something more cartoony. During the piece Mr. Spivey recites what I was calling simplistic pop psychology. Things like “It’s about thinking about later, later / And know your own limits / And know what makes us vulnerable.” Or “It has nothing to do with the glory / You do it because you love it.” Which had the effect of making the piece comedic in nature – the audience laughed at some of the jokes in the text. However, I presume that Ms. Pite wanted the subject matter and the dancing to be taken somewhat seriously. In the parts when there weren’t any jokes, it was possible to take the subject seriously. But once they turn into the Transformers it makes it extremely difficult to take the dance very seriously, which then also ends up making the subject matter silly as well. And I am not convinced that that is a good thing. But as I mentioned, it’s a small part of a larger whole, and not a profound fault. More like a scab the day before it’s going to fall off. Something that you’re aware of, and is mildly annoying, but not major.

I guess at this point I should mention The Other You, and Das Glashaus, the other two pieces in the evening’s performance.

I’m not sure why Ms. Pite decided to use the Moonlight Sonata as part of the score to The Other You other than the fact that it is a very pretty piece of music. The dancing is also very pretty. Ms. Pite steals the idea from numerous other dance performances in that she has Mr. Beauchesne and Mr. Pokorny mirror each other and/or control each other like marionettes, but with invisible strings. But in this case, the moves that they do, again modified hip-hop, in my notes I called them “funky chicken” “kung-fu fighting” and “robot,” are pretty good. In performances like that the dancers need to be perfectly synchronized and Mr. Beauchesne and Mr. Pokorny were.

There’s not an awful lot I remember about Das Glashaus, and it also is the piece where my notes got all out of order. There was some crashing sounds (which other people called breaking glass, probably due to knowing the title in advance) there’s some wrestling or aggressive cuddling, and modified yoga according to my notes, but overall it mainly draws a blank. Which is not necessarily a bad thing, just how it happens to be.

I think that trying to combine the four pieces thematically is a little bit of a stretch – especially if you’re viewing them with no prior knowledge. Instead of “The You Show” it just as easily could have been called the “You Two Show,” or “Four Duets.” But that does not take away from the fact that the dancing was pretty gosh darn good. For the most part when I go to see contemporary dance, I’m not expecting a story. I’m hoping to see some spectacular moving. It seems to me that dance has become so technically sophisticated that for the most part trying to combine it with some other art form (like theatre) ends up making a mess. Either because the dancers aren’t as accomplished in the other art form as they are in dance, or that the choreographer isn’t as accomplished or quite frequently both. In this case, while I recognize that there was an attempt to combine things thematically, because I went in not knowing that, it was mighty tough to figure out on the fly. Which does not take away from the dancing or the choreography, in fact to me, makes them even that much better.

zeke.com

Category Archives: Rave

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Publicité Sauvage 25½, exhibit 5/15

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Bettina Forget’s One Random Year

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Valérie Blass, Ghada Amer and Wangechi Mutu at the Musée d’art contemporain de Montréal

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Kolik, by Rainald Goetz, directed by Hubert Colas, acted by Thierry Raynaud

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Kidd Pivot, The You Show

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The Montreal Culture Guy

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The Montreal Culture Guy