Category Archives: Review

Blanc et Noir at Galerie Mile End

Howdy!

I freaking hate it, when I ask if I can take pictures at an exhibit, and some person who doesn’t know any better starts spouting about copyright and uses that as the excuse why they won’t let me take a snapshot. Listen people, the Canadian copyright act is right here. In it there’s a paragraph, number 29 to be exact, that talks about Fair Dealing. If I am writing a review of your show, I can use pictures that I took to illustrate the article and not impinge, infringe or otherwise step on your intellectual property. So folks, how about this? Next time I show up and ask to take pictures, understand I am being courteous and polite and be courteous and polite in return and say, “yes.”

I bring this up, because last weekend, I went to Galerie Mile End, and asked to take pictures. The woman who was there, didn’t know copyright from a hole in the wall, but insisted that was the reason why I couldn’t take pictures. She then proceeded to watch me for five minutes (there was no one else in the gallery except the two of us) until I realized that the only reason she was watching me was that I had not put my camera away (like I’m going to surreptitiously snap a picture and copy someone’s art and call it my own! Gimme a break!). So I put away the camera, she went back to making art, but then to make matters worse insisted on coming out once every five minutes for the next 15 minutes with some supposedly helpful suggestion (“the artists’ have their business cards over here, if you take them, you can call them and ask them if it is ok to take pictures,” “the artist who did these pieces is going to be here at 2:30, if you wait you can ask her if it is ok to take pictures of her work,” “if there was any of my work in the show, I’d let you take pictures of it”).

Suffice it to say, I was not in a good mood, and slowly got more and more annoyed at her as time progressed. Instead of snapping and throwing or shouting something. I gripped my pen and clipboard even tighter still, took a couple of deep breaths and did my best not to let my foul mood cloud my judgement or opinion of the work on the walls – but man, oh, man was it tough. All the way home I was contemplating some kind of savage ripost or 10,000 word screed. Or just spiking the whole darn thing. But when I got home, I put on Brahm’s Symphony #1, took a nap, and when I woke up, everything was much better. Thanks Johannes.

OK, now that I got that off my chest, some background. Galerie Mile End is an offshoot of the Park Avenue YMCA. It’s a kind of community centre/art studios/gallery/collective type of thing. You know, one of those places where people with day jobs that aren’t quite as fulfilling as they hoped, go after work to do creative things. Paint, Sculpt, Draw, etc. As a consequence a small supportive community arises out of and around them, and the people making the art don’t get driven crazy by their jobs/commute/relationships/kids, etc. Just in case yo9u thought I was being 100% literal, sorry, I over simplified things – it obviously isn’t that easy in real life, but you get the point. I’d like to say that I have followed the members of Galerie Mile End closely for the past 14 years and as a consequence can say with authority, that none of their members have ever gone on to make the jump from day job to full-time artist. But I haven’t, so I can’t and that’s just the last little bit of frustration leaking out of me, pay it never no mind. Things start looking up from here on it, I promise.

The reason I was interested in going to see the exhibit was because En Masse has kind of been taking over the city. It seems that everywhere I look, there is some very large black and white cartoon-like mural made by something like 70 dozen different local artists. It seems to me that Black and White is the new black – or maybe the new Friday, or something like that. Anyhows, I was curious to see if En Masse had had any influence on the fine folk at Galerie Mile End. In short no. While the exhibit at Galerie Mile End was a group show, it was not collaborative in the least. While there was something approaching thematic unity based on the title, I did see some greens, and a couple of other colors that were not black or white – and there was quite a lot of gray as well, which technically I figure is alright, but if I wanted to get all nit-picky about it, I could. But I think I have gotten rid of all the frustration I had over the weekend (I actually listened to the Brahms #1, something like four times…) so we’ll let it slide.

There were about three dozen different artists involved. Some of them showing multiple pieces (alright), some of them showing multiple pieces in very different media (not so hot). Anytime I look at any type of collection of art (or for that matter a collection of anything else) I try to make some sense out of it by looking for connections. When I am introduced to an artists’ work, it is extremely difficult to be able to grasp what they do, how they think, why they create or the thoughts behind their creations if their output goes from one extreme to another – especially with artists that I am unfamiliar with. It’s all fine and dandy for Picasso to sculpt, paint, and draw, he’s been dead for almost 40 years and his art is fairly well known in the Western world. He is not trying to impress anyone with his art anymore. However, some artist who isn’t quite as well known as Mr. Picasso ends up confusing the heck out of me if the first time I see some of their work there’s an abstract sculpture, a painting of some flowers and a cliched photograph with some kind of motivational text on it. I’m left wondering if the artist thinks that these particular objects are in fact their best work, or if in fact they think that absolutely everything they make is worthy of being exhibited? While I realize that people have many different facets to their personalities, trying to group the three pieces together into on e larger understanding of the motivation of the artist is not exactly easy. From where I sit, it would be better to have a show of just abstract sculptures, then another show of flower paintings a third of cliched motivational photography and only then have a show combining all three media. But that’s my personal preference, your may be different.

So as I can get it out of the way, and not have to try to remember to do it, these are the names of the artists participating in Blanc et Noir at Galerie Mile End: Anne Salomon, Bouthaina Bouzid, Celine Landry, Claude Lépine, Claudette Seguin-Beaulieu, Emily Wai Yee Leong, Esther Kanfi, Gaby Orbach, Henri Enfant, Josée Laurion, Laila Maestari, Louise Rousseau, Marcia Campillo, Michelle Bonneville, Monique Corbeil, Myles Johnston, Olga Maksimova, Paulette Dufresne, Pierre Foret, Rachel Dionne, Sandra Glenns, Thibauld Lelievre, and yves vaillancourt. By my count I think I liked four pieces (or at least that’s how many I starred in my notes). Not a good percentage in any way shape of form.

However (at some point I am going to have to either drop the use of the word “however” altogether, or start using it even more) that is not to say that the other works were not good, just that they weren’t up my alley. Using a different method of scoring, I would say that that about 90% of the works exhibited were technically good, proficient. That the artist making the work knew how to use their tools properly. That’s a much better percentage, don’t you think? But either way an exhibit is only as good as the worst piece in the show. And no matter how you cut it, there was some stuff in the exhibit that was weak both on a technical level and personally on an aesthetic level. If you’re going to use something as vague as “Black and White” as a unifying theme the quality of the art by definition needs to be of the highest caliber. I don’t know who was responsible for picking and choosing the art, but somehow I get the distinct impression that there was some kind of call made, and anyone and everyone who responded (including the people with art that included green) was accepted.

The show was hung, not so much with an eye to balancing the works. Nor did it seem to me as being hung in order to create (the dreaded) dialogue between pieces. The way that I saw it, the show was hung in an attempt to maximize the number of pieces that could be shown while for the most part trying to keep everything at eye level. As a consequence I either would hate to see the work that wasn’t accepted or I strongly suspect nothing was turned down.

Initially, in my outline this was where I was going to write about “The Good Stuff.” But now, I realize that really wouldn’t serve any purpose other than to piss people off – and given that I was pissed off over the weekend, passing it on doesn’t strike me as being particularly useful. As I said there are good pieces in the show, and there are even pieces in the show that I quite like, a lot. But the instant I make that division, someone is not going to be happy. Unfortunately, I really didn’t like the show itself. By now, that should be obvious. To me it was kind of like going to a restaurant where there was one dish that was amazing and wonderful, the rest of the meal was acceptable but the service was horrendous. An art exhibition is more than just slapping some art on the walls and serving some cheap wine at an opening. There needs to be something holding it together. There needs to be some focus and while there doesn’t need to be some theory behind it, it certainly doesn’t hurt. Then finally there should always be some threshold of what is acceptable to exhibit. It’s all fine and dandy to be polite and diplomatic in person and with people. Art (for the most part) is made up of inanimate objects that do not have feelings that would be hurt if they weren’t exhibited. Someone needs to take charge and draw that line when organizing an exhibition. That and let me take some pictures as well.

Blanc et Noir at Galerie Mile End, 5345 Park Ave. until June 17, 2012.

Dites Donc Dow! at the Carrefour d’innovation INGO

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
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
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.

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

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.

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

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

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

all the old print ads they had on display,

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

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…

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

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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

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

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

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)

Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre at L’espace musée Québecor

Howdy!

[Edit, July 31, 2012: I received an email from M. Lasserre, and have added it to the article, I have also corrected the line I wrote with regards to the ownership of Coriolis.]

This is the image I’ve always seen of Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre.

Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre image courtesy maskulllasserre.com
Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre, image courtesy maskulllasserre.com

And I always thought that it was pretty gosh darn cool, somehow M. Lasserre had squished an upright piano with a rock. So when I had a chance to go see it at L’espace musée Québecor I figured what the hey. Especially since L’espace musée Québecor is one of the few places in town where you can go see art on a Monday.

Well color me very disappointed. Turns out it’s not a piano at all. Just a bunch of steel made to look like an upright piano and then left outside to rust.

Detail of Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre at L’espace musée Québecor
Detail of Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre at L’espace musée Québecor

It’s almost like discovering that the Emperor has no clothes. Then on top of that I have no idea how M. Lasserre think that Gaspard-Gustave Coriolis has anything to do with what happened to his faux-piano. He dropped the rock from 40 feet. Which is way too small of a distance with way too heavy an object for the earth’s rotational forces to have any appreciable effect on the resulting collision. In fact if you look at this picture taken by Mirana Zuger of the moments just before impact

Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre image courtesy maskulllasserre.com
Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre image courtesy maskulllasserre.com

You can see how the place where M. Lasserre wants the impact to happen and where it in fact does happen are one and the same. If he were taking any Coriolic forces into account his dropping of the rock would have been much more like a billiards shot. Not just a straight drop from 40 feet. If he decides to make something similar (after all his gallery was successful in getting Québecor someone to buy it, maybe he should make another) he should call the next one Galilei (or perhaps Kepler, Descartes or Newton) since they were all pretty instrumental (pun intended) in describing the various physical forces on a falling rock. Then finally I’d also suggest he use a tuba, sousaphone, harp or kazoo as he instrument to crush as they all are made out of metal (or in the case of the harp, can be made out of metal).

That all being said, it is momentarily interesting in a sort of I’m-hungry-let’s-go-for-lunch-no-I-don’t-care-where-I-just-want-a-sandwich kind of way.

Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre at L’espace musée Québecor
Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre at L’espace musée Québecor
Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre at L’espace musée Québecor
Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre at L’espace musée Québecor
Detail of Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre at L’espace musée Québecor
Detail of Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre at L’espace musée Québecor
Detail of Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre at L’espace musée Québecor
Detail of Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre at L’espace musée Québecor

RE: I’m-hungry-let’s-go-for-lunch-no-I-don’t-care-where-I-just-want-a-sandwich
maskull lasserre Sun, Jul 29, 2012 at 9:40 PM
To: zeke@zeke.com

Dear Chris,

I must admit that I am seldom moved to respond to the types of postings that appear on your blog, but when someone teeters, publicly, so perilously between being misinformed and ignorant, I can’t help but try to right the balance in the public interest, and in so doing give you the benefit of the doubt.
I came upon your piece about Coriolis when I was forwarded your post on Vrtlar, at the McClure Gallery, earlier this summer. I will not be as exhaustive in my redaction (and I apologize for the “fancy-ass” words, but you can look them up here and here) as you were of Mr. Campbell’s text – although you should really have a look to see that he was correct in his reference to the Divine Horsemen: The Voodoo Gods of Haiti, Chelsea House / Delta, 1970. I will, however, suggest the following links to, albeit after the fact, inform you that:
1) Coriolis is in a private collection, and does not belong to Quebecor,
2) the Coriolis effect does register on every falling mass, though measurable more easily on a planetary scale, and
3) that poetic or artistic license, visual literacy – and, while we’re at it, basic literacy – never mind “semiotic” and “performative“, are all terms with which a self professed “culture guy” should be comfortable.
Although these posts are probably more embarrassing to their author than they are to the people they exploit for their petty picking of criticism’s low-hanging fruit and the disingenuous slights that border on adolescent slander, maybe you should stick to writing about sandwiches.
Sincerely,
Maskull Lasserre

The comments about the film, and vocabulary, are in reference to this review I wrote about a month afterwards.

Diary of a Neighbourhood: a literary work by Michael Toppings

Howdy!

Sorry Miriam, Diary of a Neighbourhood has got to be one of the worst pieces of public/community art I have ever seen in a long time, if not my entire life. I’m addressing Miriam Ginestier, head of Studio 303 and one of the partners in Michael Toppings project called Diary of a Neighbourhood because I really like her and her organization what they do and how they try to do it. But in this case not one bit, so I want to make extremely clear and 100% sure that she understands that this isn’t personal. Now that I got that out of the way, let me backtrack slightly so that the rest of you (all 10 of you) understand as well.

Yesterday, I was walking down Jeanne Mance, when as I crossed Léo-Pariseau and went to take a picture of MAI, I noticed that there was some writing in their windows. I vaguely remembered having seen writing (standard issue plastic stenciled lettering) in some some the other windows in some of the apartments facing MAI. Now normally, I am a big fan of this type of community-building public art. Bringing art to the masses, one for art – art for all, that sort of thing, but this just fails on so many different levels, that it shows how removed from the actual art made the decision makers and signers of checks are, and it is unfortunate, if not really really sad that CALQ gave Mr. Topping $20K to pull this off (the Canada Council also gave a significant chunk of change, but their database stops at 2010, so I have no idea how much he got – and then upon looking a little further it appears as if he got some cash from someone named Margaret Rind, the city and possibly the Cirque du Soleil as well).

If you want the CliffsNotes version of why Diary of a Neighbourhood sucks the big one, aka is really horrible or is just bad art, I have five words for you: unoriginal and impossible to view. Then to make matters worse not only is it unoriginal and impossible to view, but had Mr. Topping had even a moment to pause and reflect, instead of just slapping some letters up on some windows and then wrapping everything in multisyllabic nonsense designed to confuse bureaucrats and take advantage of the fact that he is an English Canadian in Quebec, he actually could have pulled off something cool, interesting, effective and useful. Pity.

Let’s start with the accusation of unoriginality first. Mr. Toppings’ piece is on Jeanne Mance in between Léo-Pariseau and Prince Arthur, for the most part on the east side of the street. If you were to walk two blocks west over to Hutchison, in between Prince Arthur and Pine you’d see some lines of personal poetry, this time engraved in stone, on the facades of some houses on the east side of the street. Back in 1988, Gilbert Boyer, a Quebecois poet decided that he wanted to write poetry on the sides of houses. (Actually come to think of it, there are lots of examples of officially sanctioned public poetry on the side of apartments.) But before I get hopelessly confused in my own parenthetical statements, M. Boyer decided to break up the lines of his poems onto different buildings, one can still be seen on the facade of 3703 Hutchison. yes, his was only two lines on Hutchison and the rest elsewhere around the city. But it’s close enough both by geography, theoretically and aesthetically that Mr. Topping should be somewhat embarrassed. Art, if anything is supposed to be original.

Now that we got that out of the way, let me explain why it’s unreadable,  and that’s simple enough. For some strange reason Mr. Topping decided to use windows that were on the third and fourth floors along with some lower level windows that were obscured by foliage.

Diary of a Neighbourhood: a literary work by Michael Toppings
Diary of a Neighbourhood: a literary work by Michael Toppings
Diary of a Neighbourhood: a literary work by Michael Toppings
Diary of a Neighbourhood: a literary work by Michael Toppings

Plus, I strongly doubt that in the time that MAI has been around there have been more than two dozen people who have walked along Jeanne Mance and looked up at their windows. So while technically it may be possible to see what’s written on their windows, for all intents and purposes no one is going to.

Diary of a Neighbourhood: a literary work by Michael Toppings
Diary of a Neighbourhood: a literary work by Michael Toppings

By using the MAI windows, Mr. Topping also sends a mixed message, because they use the exact same type of signage to publicize the events that they organize, it muddles whatever message Mr. Topping is trying to send. Is a list of visual art exhibits and plays part of the artistic intervention? Or not? I don’t know. You tell me.

Diary of a Neighbourhood: a literary work by Michael Toppings
Diary of a Neighbourhood: a literary work by Michael Toppings

Then, again while I realize that technically a neighborhood can and does include the people who work there. Practically, it means the people who interact with each other in some kind of loosely (or tightly) defined geographic area. So the people working in a neighborhood would be for the most part the store clerks, cashiers, bus drivers, waiters, etc. Faceless bureaucrats working in a low-rise office building (even if it for the most part only has artistic organizations as tenants) really don’t do much to a neighborhood. They show up at about 10 o’clock in the morning, work in their cubicles, eat lunch in the food court or park nearby depending on the weather and how much their salary is, then leave and go home at about 6 o’clock, to their own neighborhoods. Yes, there might be some people who work at 3680 Jeanne-Mance who walk to work. But the vast majority of the couple of hundred or so people who work there drive, bike or take the 80/435 to get to work and as a consequence are minimally part of the neighborhood around Jeanne Mance and Léo-Pariseau. The lines written in the windows of MAI imply a completely different type of story than those on the windows of a house.

Nor do I understand why the church at the corner of Prince Arthur that was turned into condos was not included. Aren’t the people living there as much a part of the neighborhood as the people on the east side of the street?

Diary of a Neighbourhood: a literary work by Michael Toppings
Diary of a Neighbourhood: a literary work by Michael Toppings

The, don’t even get me started on the voyeuristic nature of this project. In order to read it you have to stare directly into people’s living rooms and bedrooms.

Apparently, there were some events happening as part of this intervention. Unfortunately, I wasn’t aware of them until way too late, so I was unable to participate, but it strikes me that these would be events that were fairly insular in nature and designed and organized around the people already participating instead of being more open inviting and inclusive. There was nothing on the street explaining to the outsider what was happening or why. Given the very strong negative values associated with being a voyeur and/or inquiring into things that are obviously not your business, I’d be hard pressed to believe that anyone besides the aforementioned people in the neighborhood and the people involved in the project took part in any of the events. And as there are over 40 people (not including “all those volunteers making up the mob scene”) mentioned by name on Mr. Toppings website in the credits, and I counted over 60 separate entrances to apartments I would hope that in his reports to the various funding agencies that he got at least 1,000 people to participate in his 21 separate events. While 1,000 sounds like a lot of folk, that’s actually less than 50 per event. With 60 apartments and 40 people involved, that’s a very low threshold to cross.

To me this is a perfect example of what I would call Grant Art. It involves what the grant officer would presume were not regular grant recipients. There were two well established arts organizations willing to help. It was multicultural. Sounds way more complicated than it is. Used large multisyllabic words. And is forgotten as soon as it is over.

Then, to get very specific (I was scanning Mr. Topping’s description of the project, while writing that last paragraph) if Diary of a Neighbourhood is truly “a self-penned literary work.” Then what exactly are the “quotations from a large pool of disparate sources – David Wojnarowicz, Hart Crane, WU LYF, Nietzche, Jeanette Winterson?” Is he implicating himself as a plagarist? And I’m not quite certain what he means when he writes “With the actual neighbourhood as stage, performers infiltrate by assuming the role of resident, rendering portrayals of the everyday and the banal alongside deconstructions and gender inversions of film and theatre classics such as Network and A Streetcar Named Desire.” He self-penned it (whatever that means) then has quotations included, and during the events he’s going to have one person yell out their window

And another one yell

Gimme a break! But as long as I am discussing the content, I might as well add that what bits I was able to read were not compelling in any way, shape or form. It appeared to me as more of “ain’t I cool, that I can everyone (or almost everyone) to do this.” Thank any real literary work. I realize that there is such a category as Experimental Fiction, but until I see otherwise Mr. Topping can’t hold a candle to what Robert Coover, Gail Scott or Georges Perec write. Add to that, the fact that easily a third to half of the entire project is physically unreadable and I just guess that in practice the actual content of this “literary work” was secondary, if not tertiary to whatever the main objectives really were.

Personally, if I had $50,000 (what I guess he raised from the various sources) and really wanted to do “a community-based initiative, implicating the residents of one street in one Montréal neighbourhood. Envisioned as a trans-disciplinary project… [encompassing] public art, print art, installation, street theatre and performance but remains, in essence, a literary work.” I would have thrown a street party to end all street parties, and then simply asked everyone who participated to write down their thoughts and impressions. I would have then published everything and given each participant a copy of the book. But then, maybe that’s why I don’t apply for grants.

Oh, and one last thing. I might be blind, but while I was looking at and taking pictures of the various texts on the windows, while I did see text in French, English, Spanish, Arabic, and Chinese, I did not see the Braille.

Jana Sterbak at Laroche/Joncas

Howdy!

Me and Jana go way back, I wrote about how her work in the 2003 Venice Biennale might have been copied from the George W. Bush White House, and was kind of dismissive of her photograph Generic Man that was hung at the Musée d’art contemporain de Montréal for what seemed like decades, but she is none-the-less an Important Canadian Artist®™ duly recognized by the people who recognize things like that. And somewhere in the dark deepest recesses of my memory I seemed to remember that she had won a prize recently. So I figured it would be as good od a time as any to go see her exhibition at Laroche/Joncas (which is on view until June 9). I quite like what they are doing there and maybe it would be possible for the leopard to change its spots.

If you want the quick and easy version, I was pleasantly surprised to find a piece of art by Ms. Sterbak that I did like. However I must inform you, that there were nine other art objects in the show as well. So perhaps a sign of a benign melanoma that’s better removed than a complete changing of my spots.

But to get to the meat of the matter, the show kind of gave me the feeling it was more like a garage sale than a cohesive show. Of the ten pieces there was stuff that was made in the late 1970s all the way up to 2009. But since there were only ten of them it did not feel anything like an retrospective. More like, here is some stuff hanging around my studio gathering dust, if I were to stick it in a gallery maybe it might sell. As well the show itself is called Back Home, which lend a certain personal touch to the works exhibited, either through them not being here, but literally being back home. Or allowing you to infer that she has been away for a time and has now returned, and decided that she no longer needed to possess any of theses objects. Then there was a general hodge-podge nature to the show. The pieces that were multiples varied from 7/15 to an artist’s proof #1, to 13/14 to all five of the edition. The uniques were drawings and sculptures, I was at a distinct disadvantage when it came time to try and figure out why everything was there.

Personally I think the better way to do something like that is to invite people who have previously bought your work to do some kind of studio visit, get a bottle of wine (or two) and then proceed to tell stories about the art that you want to get rid of. Assuming you invited people with some excess cash, I’m certain it would be extremely effective. Because when I tried to figure out what was the deal with Spare Spine, a five foot gently bowed bronze stick (and while I’m at it, what’s with the insistence on using the Metric system when something was made in Imperial units? 152.4 cm, my eye!) leaning against the wall, I was completely and thoroughly incapable.

Jana Sterbak Spare Spine, 1983, Bronze, 60" x 1" x 1"
Jana Sterbak Spare Spine, 1983, Bronze, 60" x 1" x 1"

But if Ms. Sterbak had been there, regaling me with something along the lines of how it corresponded to the earth’s curvature and/or was buttressing up the entire building, and/or had been used to threaten viewers when she was wearing Vanitas: Flesh Dress for an Albino Anorectic and/or had been used by someone, somewhere doing something, it would have changed it from a five foot gently bowed bronze stick leaning against the wall into something much much more.

As it was, the piece of hers that I liked, was in fact something where I was capable of finding a story. Dissolution a series of eight small photos all in one frame of a chair with an ice seat and back smelting was pretty cool (yes, that will be the one and only pun I use today, promise). Initially, while viewing it, I figured that since it dated from 2001, that it was some sort of documentation of of some kind of performance or something. Now, after some reflection, I’m not as convinced, but while I was there, it definitely was enough of a story to keep me in front of it for longer than any of the other pieces.

Jana Sterbak, Dissolution, 2001, Colour photograph 50 x 95 cm. edition AP#1.
Jana Sterbak, Dissolution, 2001, Colour photograph 50 x 95 cm. edition AP#1.

As you might expect, it was very sparse in the gallery. Where normally, people with multiple PhDs in Art History like to go off about “how the art dialogues” and “conversations between pieces” when they are really just mean how two (or more) objects look near each other. In this case things were set up so far from each other that there wasn’t going to be any conversations happening unless one of the pieces suddenly had an urge to shout. Although there is a whole wall of works in the office that look positively cramped in comparison, and due to the placement of the desk, it’s not exactly the easiest thing in the world to get a good look at them.

Installation view of Jana Sterbak's Back Home at Laroche/Joncas
Installation view of Jana Sterbak's Back Home at Laroche/Joncas
Installation view of Jana Sterbak's Back Home at Laroche/Joncas
Installation view of Jana Sterbak's Back Home at Laroche/Joncas

I’m not quite certain what to make of the things that look like kids drawings, the Iron House or the miniaturized lead ball painted to look like a plastic beach ball. I guess something could be said that they are all riffing off of the idea of home. Either things you would find in a home or representations of home, but I’m more inclined to think that’s a stretch and best left to the guys with the multiple degrees. After all Ms. Sterbak is an Important Canadian Artist®™ and explanations like that are best left to the professionals.

Me, on the other hand, I’m glad to see that my antipathy towards Ms. Sterbak’s work has tempered over the years. She no longer makes art that causes large emotional reactions in me, it’s basically there, fine, it’s not bothering anyone, so let’s get on to the next thing.

Instrumentation by Peter Flemming at Skol

Howdy!

Suffice it to say that Peter Flemming‘s work resonates with me (yuck, yuck, yuck! Sorry I couldn’t resist). In short, Mr. Flemming makes resonators. Quite fascinating ones I might add. The show is up at Skol until Saturday.

In a slightly longer version, Mr. Flemming’s exhibition, called Instrumentation, involves five linked pieces, plus six other small “display” objects some posters and videos. When you first walk around the wall into the main gallery you are confronted with four objects that if you squint enough look like large roughly built megaphones, ear horns or gramophone amplifiers, take your pick. Actually, three. There’s one that while functioning the same way actually looks more like a room divider for a tall person’s garage or workshop. Each of them make a different noise, although it is kind of difficult to figure out what noise emanates from which one.

Installation view of Instrumentation by Peter Flemming at Skol
Installation view of Instrumentation by Peter Flemming at Skol

Then in the back room is a large console of a vaguely mechanical nature with rotating plastic lids on plywood arms, three goose-necked lamps that change in intensity, some drums and some wires. Lots and lots and lots of wires. According to various websites the console (which really is just a large plywood table, but sounds more impressive if I call it a console) is responsible for making the various noises, dimming the lights and all sorts of other endlessly entertaining things.

On their own, the speakers were mildly interesting visually, mainly due to how they were constructed. Plywood and carpentry clamps were the main materials used in one and the others were similarly made out of items that are easily findable in just about any hardware store. It wasn’t until I ventured into the back room that I got excited. While I’ve never been accused of being part of any maker community (I tend to take things apart and break them instead of creating things) as a card carrying generic guy I’m fascinated by others that do. Which if you think about it makes sense, wince I tend to write about them.

Installation view of Instrumentation by Peter Flemming at Skol
Installation view of Instrumentation by Peter Flemming at Skol

The console had just the right number of mechanical doohickeys and automated gizmos to keep me fascinated for what seemed like hours. Then it slowly dawned on me, I’m not always the sharpest tack on the box, that it was controlling everything, and that was my moment of discovery. But how it was controlling things wasn’t exactly clear. Which obviously meant that I had to spend the better part of an hour studying it in minute detail trying to figure it out. Ultimately I wasn’t successful. Sometimes the machine does win. But I was undaunted. As I get older I don’t have to win everything absolutely every time.

Installation view of Instrumentation by Peter Flemming at Skol
Installation view of Instrumentation by Peter Flemming at Skol

For the curious, there are some very informative videos that do a good job of explaining how the sounds are made, unfortunately I didn’t take notes, so I can’t repeat them here. They’re short enough (I think the five different films are about 15 minutes long in total) that it isn’t difficult to sit through them all. And I was pleased to see that they were not playing on an endless loop when I visited, which made things that much more understandable. Also in what could be called the lobby, or the foyer to the gallery were six objects taken from what I presume was an earlier version of the console and were displayed on pedestals and mounted on the wall like regular run of the mill art objects.

Prior to understanding what was happening, I said that the speakers were “mildly interesting visually.” But once I realized that everything was hooked up a linked together, they became completely fascinating. I poured over them taking pictures from every possible angle trying to break the code. It’s a amazing what a little spark will do. Unfortunately, none of my pictures of the details do any of the works any justice. While I seem to be able to take reasonable pictures of objects, I haven’t quite mastered close-ups, yet.

Installation view of Instrumentation by Peter Flemming at Skol
Installation view of Instrumentation by Peter Flemming at Skol

On the whole Instrumentation was a pretty kick-ass show, taking maker culture at white cubing it. I enjoyed myself immensely trying to follow all the cables and figure out what bit was responsible for what movement, even if I was ultimately unsuccessful. It kind of reminded me of some of Mitchell F. Chan’s work. Personally I’m very glad that I don’t work at Skol being assaulted by the noise everyday would go a long way towards making me even loopier than I already am. But in shorter doses while I’m focused on how it’s being made is a completely different kettle of fish.

Other at Yves LaRoche

Howdy!

Continuing on the exhibits I saw last week, while Yves Laroche says the show is called Tempest, it struck me much more as a solo show by Derek Mehaffey as I couldn’t really find anything where the work exhibited was thematically linked, let alone being tempestuous. (Although, if pressed, it’d be easy enough to say that all of Mr. Mehaffey’s work is tempestuous to a certain extent).

When I asked if I could take pictures, I was told “no.” So we’re going to have to do with versions from their website, and my pictures from the street. Another reason why it feels to me more like a bunch of paintings by Mr. Mehaffey than anything show-like, is that what they show on the website and what is shown in the gallery, are reasonable facsimiles, but not close to being the same thing. Kind of like the catalogue and exhibit for Wangechi Mutu at the Musée d’art contemporain de Montréal.

Then, one more thing before launching into the art itself, upon reading the press release, I truly hope that Mr. Mehaffey’s art can’t be seen in “countless art galleries around the world.” That would either imply a level of irresponsibility that is just mind boggling or that his work has been forged enough that he can’t be bothered to fight it anymore. Personally, I hope that it was just slip-up on the part of M. Laroche, when he was writing the press release, and he wanted to give the impression of lots and lots and lots of galleries, instead of giving the impression that Mr. Mehaffey can’t be bothered to keep track of the galleries that show his work.

Other  Pile of Person , Mixed media on paper, 11,25'' x 8,5'', image courtesy yveslaroche.com
Other Pile of Person , Mixed media on paper, 11,25'' x 8,5'', image courtesy yveslaroche.com

Yves Laroche Galerie d’art is one of the older art galleries in town having opened in 1991. They moved from Old Montreal to Little Italy/Mile End something like two years ago (although I could have sworn it was more like five years ago) and this was my first visit since the move. The two spaces couldn’t be more different from each other. Back in Old Montreal, there wasn’t a single white wall that I can remember, pieces were hung cheek to jowl, almost salon style. In a word cluttered, which was entirely and completely appropriate given that they had chosen (and continue to choose) to exhibit street art and other objects that are a reaction to, or commentary on the visual overload one gets in a 21st century city (I can’t remember ever seeing any graffiti in the countryside, can you?) Visiting the old space was almost like being an anthropologist and being able to study some previously unknown Amazonian tribe in situ (back when that was a good thing).

The new space is the exact opposite, all white walls, lots of space between the pieces of art. It seems like an attempt at getting uppity, possibly to justify the prices, possibly because as M. Laroche got older, he, like everyone else, got more conservative and did not need his senses assaulted from every angle, 24/7 when he went to work. Possibly because he got a great deal on a long term lease in a place that, unfortunately, did not have any 15 foot high brick walls, or most likely, some other equally valid reason, mine just being guesses.

Installation shot from the street of Tempest by Other at Yves Laroche galerie d'art
Installation shot from the street of Tempest by Other at Yves Laroche galerie d'art

When I visited, there were 19 different pieces being shown, although two of them were multiples, W, a linoleum print in an edition of 30 and Crying Boxcar in an edition of 10. As I’ve said previously, Mr. Mehaffey’s work can be called tempestuous. Mostly due to the fact that he makes big things with lots and lots of little things. In the same kind of way that a tempest is made up of lots and lots of tiny rain drops to make a big storm. Each of his large pieces is formed by many smaller drawings, sketches, collages, call them what you will, combined together not to make a larger whole image, but just a larger image with specific and individual parts that, for the most part, are recognizable as being separate from the whole. Kind of like a group portrait, in that we all recognize that there are a bunch of different people in a group portrait, and it is the group that makes the whole.

The major difference being that Mr. Mehaffey will not only use different objects, faces, things within a larger whole, he also will use a completely different method of making the image. One being drawn with marker, another in paint, a third in pencil, etc. And it is this heterogeneity that make his larger pieces absolutely fascinating and wonderful. I’m kind of annoyed that I was only limited to taking pictures from the sidewalk and using what’s on the yveslaroche.com website because neither one allows for closeups to show to amount of detail in any of the larger paintings.

Installation shot from the street of Tempest by Other at Yves Laroche galerie d'art
Installation shot from the street of Tempest by Other at Yves Laroche galerie d'art

For purposes of this article, I’m going to call those 19 different pieces the “show” despite the fact that there are 20 different pieces on the website with something like half-a-dozen that don’t correspond. The ones that worked best to me were the larger pieces on non-traditional bases, such as Pile of person 2.

Other  Pile of person 2 , Mixed technique on wood cut out, 79'' x 63'', image courtesy yveslaroche.com
Other Pile of person 2 , Mixed technique on wood cut out, 79'' x 63'', image courtesy yveslaroche.com

Although I’m still trying to decide if the dirt marks on How We Were were intentional or just an oversight.

Other  How We Were , Mixed media on canvas, 67,5'' x 53,75'', image courtesy yveslaroche.com
Other How We Were , Mixed media on canvas, 67,5'' x 53,75'', image courtesy yveslaroche.com

It was nice to see that a bunch of the pieces had sold, I guess both M. Laroche and Mr. Mehaffey will be able to pay next month’s rent. The show itself is up for another two days, and while it isn’t going to change anyone’s life, it’s still a pretty show that can easily occupy 15 to 30 minutes of your time before or after having an espresso and cornetto at the Cornetteria across the street from the gallery.

Other  Lighting the Path , Mixed media on panel 61"x42", image coutesy yveslaroche.com
Other Lighting the Path , Mixed media on panel 61"x42", image coutesy yveslaroche.com

Riopelle – Séries graphiques at Centre d’Archives de Montréal

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Poster for Riopelle – Séries graphiques by Philippe Legris Design.
Poster for Riopelle – Séries graphiques by Philippe Legris Design.

Last week I went to see a bunch of shows that I had on my to-do list. One of them was Riopelle – Séries graphiques in the salle Gilles-Hocquart du Centre d’archives de Montréal. The Centre d’archives de Montréal are one of my favorite places to see exhibits. Primarily because there is never anyone there, and secondarily because, for the most part, they produce high quality, well researched exhibits.

Installation shot of Riopelle – Séries graphiques in the salle Gilles-Hocquart du Centre d’archives de Montréal.
Installation shot of Riopelle – Séries graphiques in the salle Gilles-Hocquart du Centre d’archives de Montréal.

This was no exception to either reason. It was so empty that I was in fact able to (illegally) take pictures. Apologies that the pictures aren’t so great and are not comprehensive. I was kind of trying to dodge the two cameras installed on the ceiling. The short version is that it is a very good show, well worth the time spent. A longer more nuanced opinion would go something like this: I’m familiar with a bunch of Jean-Paul Riopelle’s prints. They are nice enough and without getting into too much detail there are obviously going to be some that are better than others.

For the most part, I would strongly suggest not buying any if you come across them. From what I have been told, there is a large possibility that it might be forged. But they are still pretty to look at. Since I did not read the press release before going to see it, I figured that it would be a selection of prints made by Riopelle over the years, presented either chronologically or thematically. While it was presented chronologically, it wasn’t exactly a “selection” of prints.

What it was, was a didactic exhibit that went chronologically through Riopelle’s career presenting examples from all the shows he did (or at least I think it was all the show he did) that were of prints. Since the salle Gilles-Hocquart isn’t the largest room around, it’s technically impossible to exhibit all of Riopelle’s prints. But what the curator, André Hénault, has done is to find examples of the original posters made to publicize the exhibits and placed them side by side with the original prints from which they were based, along with some examples of either the other prints exhibited, the associated book, or other objects.

Installation shot of Riopelle – Séries graphiques in the salle Gilles-Hocquart du Centre d’archives de Montréal.
Installation shot of Riopelle – Séries graphiques in the salle Gilles-Hocquart du Centre d’archives de Montréal.

The wall tags, or panels, are very thorough in explaining the when, the where, the what and the how. Although as it was a glorious day when I went to go see, I did not concentrate all that much on what they said. I figured if I ever needed to know the chronology of Riopelle’s prints, I knew where to find the information. It’s tough to argue about Riopelle’s art. He is a very significant and influential Quebecois artist. Since he dies 10 years ago, it’s doesn’t make any sense to say that this particular print is good, and that one is not good.

Obviously, there are certain prints that are more important than others, there are prints that are better made than others, etc. But that’s the kind of stuff that M. Hénault is there for. Had I really been interested in things like that I probably would have read the wall tags. Next time.

Installation shot of Riopelle – Séries graphiques in the salle Gilles-Hocquart du Centre d’archives de Montréal.
Installation shot of Riopelle – Séries graphiques in the salle Gilles-Hocquart du Centre d’archives de Montréal.

While I quite like most of Riopelle’s work (I don’t think I’ve ever seen something by him that I thought was crap) seeing yet another exhibit of his work is kind of frustrating. It’s like seeing yet another Warhol show, or yet another Picasso show, or yet another Van Gogh show. While they are all fine and dandy, I can’t help but believing that there are other artists who are as deserving of an exhibit, but for whatever reasons are denied.

There are nine other people who signed the Refus Global who made two dimensional art who are way less known than Riopelle (personally I’d love to see a show of work by Madeleine Arbour or Louise Renaud) why they don’t get shown more frequently, I don’t know. While I understand the importance of maintaining the status quo, sometimes enough is enough.

Installation shot of Riopelle – Séries graphiques in the salle Gilles-Hocquart du Centre d’archives de Montréal.
Installation shot of Riopelle – Séries graphiques in the salle Gilles-Hocquart du Centre d’archives de Montréal.

But that’s complaining about stuff that has nothing to do with the art being shown and everything to do with the bureaucracy involved in mounting an exhibit. Two completely different things. Returning to focus on the show at hand, I got a kick out of seeing the original print juxtaposed next to the publicity poster. On one hand, it’s cool to be able to make the comparisons. Given that they are both being exhibited it also makes you kind of think about what is art, and what is historical artifact.

I‘m fairly certain, that there are lots of people who bought the Galerie Maeght publicity posters, framed them and stuck them on their walls, because they couldn’t afford the originals. Does the fact that an object is not unique or limited make it any less pretty or significant?

Installation shot of Riopelle – Séries graphiques in the salle Gilles-Hocquart du Centre d’archives de Montréal.
Installation shot of Riopelle – Séries graphiques in the salle Gilles-Hocquart du Centre d’archives de Montréal.

There are also examples of Derriere le mirroir, the magazine published by the Galerie Maeght, and there is a bunch of other material that is presented bound, as it was initially conceived (the problem with showing bound material is that you can only see one or two pages of a multi-page object – and while I am not exactly clear on who needs to be asked so you can see one, I’m 100% positive that it is possible). It’s exactly that sort of ephemera, or obscure material that helps to flesh out an exhibition and make it more enjoyable. As I’ve said many times, getting a sense of discovery when viewing a piece of art, or an exhibit is extremely important to me, and when the art objects themselves aren’t something fresh and new, as is the case with prints by Riopelle, adding other stuff that isn’t normally seen is a surefire way to bring it on in spades.

Beyond that, the show is a tad cramped, or if you prefer, dense. If you’re planning on reading all the wall tags, I’d suggest planning for at least an hour, and maybe two depending on your level of understanding of French.

Installation shot of Riopelle – Séries graphiques in the salle Gilles-Hocquart du Centre d’archives de Montréal.
Installation shot of Riopelle – Séries graphiques in the salle Gilles-Hocquart du Centre d’archives de Montréal.

Publicité Sauvage 25½, exhibit 5/15

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
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.

Installation view of Publicité Sauvage 25½, exhibit 5/15
Installation view of Publicité Sauvage 25½, exhibit 5/15

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.

Installation view of Publicité Sauvage 25½, exhibit 5/15
Installation view of Publicité Sauvage 25½, exhibit 5/15

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.

Installation view of Publicité Sauvage 25½, exhibit 5/15
Installation view of Publicité Sauvage 25½, exhibit 5/15

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
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
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
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.

Canadian Whisky by Davin de Kergommeaux

Howdy!

A couple of weeks ago the fine folk at McClelland & Stewart were kind enough to send me a copy of Canadian Whisky by Davin de Kergommeaux. It’s a nice book, a quick and easy read, but I would take exception with it’s subtitle, “The Portable Expert.” To me it’s more of conveniently sized omnibus introduction to contemporary Canadian whisky.

It seems that ever 20 years or so someone comes out with a book on Canadian liquor. Back in the mid 70s, William Rannie wrote Canadian Whisky: The Product and the Industry. In the mid 90s it was Lorraine Brown’s The Story of Canadian Whisky. And now in the teens it’s Mr. de Kergommeaux’s turn. His book is separated into five sections, The substance of Canadian whisky, How Canadian whisky is made, The pleasures of Canadian whisky, A concise history of Canadian whisky and The nine distillers of Canadian whisky. On the surface it all looks fine and dandy, and for the most part it is. But I couldn’t help but having the sensation of wanting more after I was done.

He starts in section one by explaining what makes whisky and how it is made. Even though his description of the grains, water and wood that make whisky is only 29 pages of the 300 in the book, he gets bogged down unnecessarily writing about things like recycling and energy efficiency in contemporary distilleries. While things like that are all fine and dandy, I think I would have preferred to have read more and in more detail about the differences in the ingredients and how they were manifested in the various whiskies.

The book then moves on to describe the processes used to make whisky, what happens in the mash, distillation and blending. I can only think of one book on whiskey that I’ve read that did not include a section on distillation, and it was written a while ago. I don’t know if this is because contemporary writers believe that no one knows their chemistry anymore or that someone somewhere passed a law insisting on it. I’m not all together sure that it needed to be there because again, it gets bogged down in details that aren’t entirely necessary because they are more generic to all whiskeys and not specifically Canadian or specific Canadian whiskies.

Back when I was growing up, I thought that Rye was Canadian whisky. I was wrong. While Rye can be Canadian whisky it can also be American whiskey, and for that matter if it was made in Ireland, Japan or someplace else it could be Irish whisky or Japanese whisky as well. Rye is just a specific way of making whisky that can be made anywhere. Then as I got older I thought that what made Canadian whisky different was that each grain was aged separately and they were only blended after aging and before bottling. I was wrong again. That was kind of how it was done when Seagram’s was a force in the industry (more to the point, Seagram’s would make what was called base whiskies and flavouring whiskies, which I believe were each made from a variety of grains, age those separately, before blending and bottling). I don’t know if any of the brands that used to be made by Seagram’s are still made this way.

Now I understand that the only thing that makes Canadian whisky, Canadian is that is is mashed, distilled and aged on this side of the border. If you are interested the law is here. In a nutshell, the salient fact beyond geography is aged for three years in wood. But it doesn’t specify what kind of wood, or if anything should be done to the wood. Then on top of that it can “contain caramel and flavouring” and after the three years, the distiller is allowed to continue aging it “other containers.” So basically, there really isn’t any unifying style or regulation to Canadian whisky like there is with American Bourbon.

This is both a good thing and a bad thing. Good, in that there is a humongous, if not infinite number of differences between different Canadian whiskies. Bad, in that comparing them is like comparing apples to oranges. Mr. de Kergommeaux never really got that distinction across to me as I was reading his book. I inferred that there were more commonalities than just three years, wood and location. This might be in part due to how the book is structured, focusing on the ingredients and process first (which for the most part are similar) and then only later writing about the companies and the people who ran them.

The meat of the book is in section four. Where he gives chapters to the history of the Molson distillery, Gooderham and Worts, Corby’s, Seagram’s, Hiram Walker and Wiser’s. Unfortunately, each chapter is only about 15 pages long, so there really isn’t too much detail and and things are presented in a very one-two-three manner. Which meant that I frequently had to go back and re-read parts to make sense of it all, since there wasn’t any type of glue connecting things. Instead of threading all the interwoven stories together and presenting it in a vaguely chronological manner, he ends up going over a lot of the same things (Canadian prohibition, laws, etc) many different times in each individual chapter. I was ready to throttle his editor by the time I read for something like the fourth time that the Canadian government has made it law that whisky had to be aged two years in 1890.

Then in the final section he devotes a chapter to nine distilleries in Canada (I’m not entirely certain why he chose not to give chapters to Shelter Point, Still Waters, Myriad View, and Victoria Spirits – actually I’m being disingenuous, he didn’t write about them, because their whisky isn’t the requisite three years-old, and isn’t available yet. But instead of giving each a sentence or two scattered in chapters about other distilleries, it would have been nice to perhaps do something like a chapter on “new” distilleries).

Personally, if I had been his editor, I would have insisted that he radically re-organize the book. While I know there is a humongous amount of history with regards to Canadian whisky, it really doesn’t come through in Mr. de Kergommeaux’s text. The way he has it organized it is almost like viewing slide samples from some biology class without having any larger knowledge of what animal they come from. Or if you prefer, a bunch of snapshots that to the viewer are only related because they were taken by the same photographer.

He has done an amazing amount of research, and I’d love to be able to sit down and talk with him (or even better still go through his notes) so as to truly and completely get a comprehensive understanding of Canadian whisky. The way the book is, it ends up serving as a very nice introduction to Canadian whisky. However it is offered up as the definitive word, and once I started scratching just a little bit below the surface I was able to discover that there are many more levels, nuances and stories that for whatever reason weren’t included in the book.

If I were to use an analogy, it’s like being offered a smell of Crown Royal Reserve but being told that you’re actually drinking and seeing it as well. And then, as long as I’m being grumpy, I’m sorely disappointed that he wasn’t able to explain what happened to the purple Crown Royal felt bag. I’ve heard rumors that involve Claude Brochu, but nothing definitive.

Then finally, dispersed throughout the book are “tasting notes” on 100 Canadian whiskies. Mr. de Kergommeaux needs a thesaurus. After reading half a dozen, they all end up reading exactly like each other. To give you examples;

Alberta Premium, …searing white pepper…
Black Velvet Three Year Old, …spirity hot white pepper…
Black Velvet Deluxe, …glowing hot pepper…
Bush Pilot’s Private Reserve, …and hot white pepper.
Canada Gold, Seductive peppery heat.
Canada House, …mildly peppery finish.
Canadian Club 20 Year Old, …hot pepper…
Canadian Club 30 Year Old, …zippy pepper…
Canadian Club Classic 12 Year Old, …warming gingery pepper…
Canadian Club Sherry Cask 8 Year Old, …searing hot pepper.
Canadian Hunter, …sizzling pepper burn.
Canadian LTD, …peppery warmth.
Canadian Peak, …and hot pepper.
Canadian Supreme, …advancing peppery glow.
Cape Breton Silver, …pepper…

You get the picture.

And I lied, I still have a little more currently the SAQ is carrying 22 different Canadian whiskies, if anyone would like to do a little tasting, let me know which ones you’d like to compare and contrast and we can see if we can get something organized. For the record, these are them:
Crown Royal Extra Rare, Glen Breton Single Malt, BLAT 11 Year Old, Canadian Club 20 Year Old, Crown Royal Reserve, Crown Royal, Canadian Club, STRT 101 10 Year Old, Wiser’s Legacy, Seagram’s Five Star, Seagram’s 83, White Owl, Canadian Club Sherry Cask, Crown Royal Limited Edition, Seagram’s V.O., Golden Wedding, Wiser’s Small Batch, Schenley OFC, Gibson’s Finest 12 Year Old, Canadian Club Classic 12 Year Old, Spicebox Spiced whisky and Wiser’s de Luxe.