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The film is called: Divine Horsemen: The Living Gods of Haiti, not The Voodoo Gods of Haiti (and after reading a little about Maya Deren, it looks like it could be a very interesting film). He then proceeds to spell David Michael Levin‘s name wrong, and finally he obviously hasn’t spent all that much time around street artists, because graffiti is anything but spontaneous. When was the last time you “just happened” to be carrying some cans of spray paint around “in case” you suddenly had the urge to be artistic in public?
But despite all the excess baggage and nonsense that he adds to the show, Ms. Zugler’s work is up to the task and came through with shining colors. (The show itself was on exhibit at the McClure Gallery from June 1 to 23, this year). If you ‘d like to see some of her work, she is currently exhibiting at the Eleanor London Côte Saint-Luc Public Library.
Installation view of Vrtlar by Mirana Zuger at the McClure Gallery, showing Fooling and Hibou.
Her name blipped on my radar when I was doing some research on Coriolis by Maskull Lasserre. She took some of the pictures to document the making of Coriolis, and something clicked when I saw her name come up as exhibiting at the McClure. Thankfully I was able to get over there slightly more than a week before the show closed. It consisted of ten paintings of various sizes and one small sculpture, the pieces had titles like Beet Root, Betty, and Hibou, or in simpler language, not exactly the most helpful in trying to decipher her paintings. There was one called The Tough Guy and the Texan which at least gave me a leg up on trying to figure out something.
The idea that Mr. Campbell would then go as far as to add another thick and very opaque layer between a viewer and the paintings just made me see something that resembled Zelena. I much preferred the piece written by Françoise Sullivan at the back of the catalogue. Simple, direct and to the point. It made it clear that Ms. Zuger is an abstract painter in the grand old tradition of the Automatistes. While she does guidelines and a framework for painting what she paints, it is at the opposite end of the scale when compared to someone like say, a Guido Molinari or a Claude Tousignant. Not quite spilling and brushing the paint any which way but loose, but close.
Precipitation by Mirana Zuger
There are some of her paintings that kind of remind me of something that Mark Rothko could have made, others remind me a little bit of the work of Leopold Plotek. There was one painting done on paper and another small bronze sculpture, Baseline and Wish respectively. Had I been asked, I would have suggested that they be left out of the exhibit in place of two other paintings. Back when I had Zeke’s Gallery, I would try to keep the shows as focused as possible. I would mention to the artists that when they were 80 years-old, it would be fine and dandy to have a retrospective that incorporated painting, sculpture, drawing, video any gosh darn thing that they pleased. But at the beginning of a career it is extremely helpful to present a fairly uniform body of work. I imagine it is part of the reason Paul McCartney and Elvis Costello did not compose classical music until they had already established themselves. Why Elvis Presley did not record Gospel music until his name (and voice) had been firmly established.
Baseline and Wish make it obvious that Ms. Zuger can and does work using lots of different materials, I can’t help but think that being able to see two other paintings would have helped enormously in furthering the understanding and comprehension of her work. And besides when you’re dealing with abstract paintings that large, things can get pretty hairy and fairly powerful – when they’re done up right, it kind of feels like how I would imagine being in the eye of a hurricane would feel. By exhibiting the sculpture and paper, it brings down the intensity to something more akin to a really strong thunderstorm.
Installation view of Vrtlar by Mirana Zuger at the McClure Gallery, showing Zelena and Baseline
One other nit picky point, some of the paintings are labelled as being on “rabbit skin sized canvas.” Being the hardheaded blowhard and duffer that I am, I was initially going to call her on what I thought was a large bluff. Not even if I skinned Harvey would I be able to get a canvas that was five feet by six feet. Besides while bunnies are delicious, I can’t quite believe that leather made from their skin would make for a great object to paint on. But thankfully I went to her website, and things became clearer. She uses something called “Rabbit Skin Glue” to do something similar to priming her canvases. Sizing being something you do to protect and glaze a piece of paper or textile.
Installation view of Vrtlar by Mirana Zuger at the McClure Gallery
I can only guess at why Ms. Zuger decided to call the show Gardener (in Serbo-Croat). There is obviously some sort of connection to her culture (if I remember correctly, her grandfather came to Canada from Yugoslavia, back when it was still called Yugoslavia) but whether she thinks that the painting Vrtlar was the best one in the exhibit and therefore worthy of naming the whole show, or it has something to do with the bright colors reminding Ms. Zuger of flowers, or the care and work she took in making the various paintings was similar to that which she would have done in creating a garden, or something completely different I have no idea. Nor does it really matter, because as Ms. Sullivan so eloquently writes Ms. Zuger’s “brushwork, her vigorous form and colour come with a sense of renewal, a feeling that it is right.”
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
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 Coriolis are in response to an article I wrote about a month before this one on a piece of art that M. Lasserre made.
One of my favorite galleries is Wilder & Davis Luthiers. Mostly because its primary purpose is not to display art, but to fix and make violins, violas and cellos (and maybe the occasional double bass as well). It’s in a wonderful two story building just down the street from my place. I’m friends with Elizabeth Barbosa who is the director of the space. There’s something extremely comforting and nice about people who know bend and shape exotic wood so that it can sing also like not only having pretty pictures around, but also opening up their place of business so that other people can see them as well. All in my neighborhood as well, what more could you ask for?
Installation view of Judith Klugerman’s work in Présence at Wilder & Davis
In my mind, it’s pretty much a perfect example of how Quebec culture works. Not only making sure it is an integral part of life, but so completely integrated into the fabric of the community that to be without the art life would seem weird. While Wilder & Davis Luthiers aren’t a government run Maison de la Culture, they are the for-profit commercial equivalent, and in certain respects might actually be doing better than any of the Maison de la Culture as they are open 8½ hours/day 6 days/week, which is far more than any MdC.
Installation view of Nicole Doré-Brune’s work in the Violin room at Wilder and Davis.
This particular show is called Présence (it is up on their walls until July 20). Guest curated by Wah Wing Chan it features fourteen different artists all showing work on paper that somehow is an interpretation of the word presence. Kind of a stretch if you ask me, since it is an extremely vague and nebulous concept that could potentially be used on just about any piece of art.
None the less, tossing the title and concept out the window, it also was an opportunity to see some good work, some great work as well as some not so great work (as is the case in just about every group show I’ve ever seen or organized). On the positive side though by viewing art in a real-world situation, such as a working luthier, it enables the art that is not so strong (read as a polite way to say something not so good) to become background and not stick out so much.
Installation view of Jean Fitzgerald’s work in Présence in the Cello room of Wilder and Davis.
On the flip side, seeing good and great art in a real-world situation ends up making it somewhat more difficult to fully appreciate. With all the distractions, it can get a little bit dicey. But invariably great art will win out and win over its surroundings in kind of the same way that the sun always manages to be seen despite any temporary clouds.
There was nothing really earth shattering. As I mentioned, the art ran the gamut from not good to very good. The combination of the instruments and the art had a calming effect, not quite the same as being in a church, but similar. It gave a certain weight to the prints that I don’t think they would have had in say a cafe. A sense of comfort if you will.
Another reason why I’m not all that keen on the concept of the exhibit is that Présence (in French) and Presence (in English) have different meanings. The primary definition in both languages is fairly similar, but once you get below the surface – which, to my understanding is what art is supposed to do – the meanings diverge widely, with the French being much closer to the ideas of church and spirit, and the English sticking to the more concrete. But that all being said, it’s still a good collection of artists in an extremely nice setting that is not your standard issues white cube.
Last week Eloi Desjardins of Un show de mot’arts, stopped by La Cabane and we had a conversation about the Quebecois art media, or lack thereof. Eloi wanted to know where and how to find what little was written, and then the conversation veered towards non-traditional outlets, the theories behind what and how we write and if it is possible to make money writing about Quebecois art. It’s approximately the 672nd podcast I have done (533 Audio and 139 video). But is episode 1 of The EZ Montreal Art Podcast.
Since then, we have had a discussion, and it looks like this will be a regular feature on both of our websites, although not necessarily identical, as the idea is for each of us to take the raw audio file and edit it how we see fit. Next time, we’re going to do it in a much, much quieter place, and I think the discussion will be centered around the Wesselmann and Ikeda exhibits currently on view.
Listen (40:31):
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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.
Cal Lane, Gutter Snipes
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…
Cal Lane, M-62
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.
Cal Lane, Infrared Illumination
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.
Cal Lane, Messenger of Combat I and II
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.
Cal Lane, Gutter Snipes, detail
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.
Cal Lane, Gutter Snipes, detail
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.
Cal Lane, Gutter Snipes, detail
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.
The Big O Pipe
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.
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.
On Tuesday I went to the auction of (mostly) Canadian Art at Iegor – Hôtel des Encans. It was vaguely frustrating as less than 50% of the lots offered up for sale sold. I don’t know if that was due to reserves being placed to high, or lack of interest, or if it was more indicative of lower quality work, or something else entirely.
The scene before the auction at Iegor De Saint Hippolyte’s place.
I was interested in it because of a bunch of items, specifically two Marcel Barbeau paintings, prints by a Johanne Corno, Alfred Pellan and Jacques Hurtubise, a Zilon painting and a Robert Roussil sculpture. Along the way there was also Vladimir Lebedev print, some Frère Jérôme stuff and three Fernand Toupins that looked kind of funky. Overall Iegor – Hôtel des Encans grossed almost $250,000. (Please take care when quoting my figures, taking notes at an Iegor auction is not an easy thing, there are numerous question marks in my notes and while I would feel comfortable using them as a rough guide, I would not trust them to be the definitive word – there is a reason why M. De Saint Hippolyte is extremely secretive).
The blockbuster, if you can call it that, was a pair of Cloisonné Qilin (Cloisonnéd Qilins?) that went for $30,353.40 with the 20% buyer’s premium and taxes included (all prices quoted here have the 20% buyer’s premium and taxes included). It seems to me that while M. De Saint Hippolyte initially made his name selling Quebecois art, he is more and more moving into the more generalized practice that really doesn’t differentiate objects that cost a chunk of change and takes advantage of the fact that most potential buyers will be first time, only time buyers from him. Emphasizing that while they know the objects in question (such as the Cloisonné Qilin in question) and therefore unlikely to overpay, there are a bunch of practices that M. De Saint Hippolyte can employ to obtain fair market value.
Iegor – Hôtel des Encans, Lot #11, June 19, 2012 Pair of Qilin Cloisonné
I’m always a large believer in taking full advantage of arbitrage, buying winter coats and boots in the middle of the summer, buying baseball cards of Tampa Bay Rays’ players in Seattle, playing Beach Boys songs in December, etc. In short going against the grain. Shorter still: Contrarian.
So you’d figure that after this much time M. De Saint Hippolyte would have figured out how to maximize sales of and on Quebecois artists. That he would have fostered and promoted collectors of Quebecois art. But as far as I can tell paintings by Stanley Cosgrove, Goodrich Roberts and others of their ilk are still selling for about $5,000, like they were a decade and a half ago. a rising tide is supposed to lift all boats, but if the tide never comes then everything just remains beached. And from where I am sitting Quebecois art has been beached and left out to rot for the longest time. If a new painting by Zilon will cost something like five figure but you can pick up an older pre-loved one for $1,793.61 like someone did on Tuesday, why in anyone’s name would you buy new?
That all being said, I will repeat myself again and say that there is sole pretty gosh darn phenomenal art being made here right now (and in the past as well) but the people whose job and responsibility it is (like M. De Saint Hippolyte, Nathalie Bondil, Simon Blais, and others) to make the rest of the world aware of how amazing, kick-ass and wonderful the art made here is are dropping the ball and screwing around big time.
The Marcel Barbeau paintings at Iegor – Hôtel des Encans June 19, 2012. Neither one sold.Johanne Corno, Breast and Blue at Iegor – Hôtel des Encans, June 19, 2012. Did not sellJacques Hurtubise, Citrique at Iegor – Hôtel des Encans June 19, 2012. Sold for $1,655.64Alfred Pellan prints at Iegor – Hôtel des Encans, June 19, 2012
Pop Shop, the one on top sold for $1,103.76.l Au bord de la mer (on the bottom) did not sell.
Robert Roussil sculpture The tree of life from the Iegor – Hôtel des Encans auction June 19, 2012. Sold for $12,417.30.Zilon, Se dire adieu at the Iegor – Hôtel des Encans auction June 19, 2012. Sold for $1,793.61Zilon, Se dire adieu at Iegor – Hôtel des Encans (detail)
And then finally, if you’d like my spreadsheet of prices from the auction, download this.
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.
Claude Tousignant, Retables #2,
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.
Claude Tousignant, Retables #1
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.
There is also a mont Ernest Laforce. Although trying to discover who he was is not an easy task on the internet. According to teh Commission de toponymie he was “a journalist, lecturer, parliamentary correspondent and agent of the federal government” among other things, and the Saint Jean Baptiste society thought he was important enough to be commemorated with a place in 1995.
Le Jardin de Lyon by Jean-François Gavoty and Guerric Péré
Le Jardin de Lyon by Jean-François Gavoty and Guerric PéréLe Jardin de Lyon by Jean-François Gavoty and Guerric PéréLe Jardin de Lyon by Jean-François Gavoty and Guerric PéréLe Jardin de Lyon by Jean-François Gavoty and Guerric PéréLe Jardin de Lyon by Jean-François Gavoty and Guerric PéréLe Jardin de Lyon by Jean-François Gavoty and Guerric PéréLe Jardin de Lyon by Jean-François Gavoty and Guerric PéréLe Jardin de Lyon by Jean-François Gavoty and Guerric PéréLe Jardin de Lyon by Jean-François Gavoty and Guerric Péré
Since I’m on the topic of sellable art, I should mention that I also went to see the East vs. West exhibit at Three Monkeys. I don’t think anyone has ever done a study on it, but I would venture a guess that if you own a store, putting art up on the walls and hosting exhibits is a cheap and effective way to market and promote the store. On the other hand, wall space is valuable real estate for merchandising, and if it was truly effective than there probably would be more stores that did it, right?
Anyhow, either way by presenting the show, it succeeded in getting me into a clothing store, which is no mean feat. According to the folderol that they put out on Facebook and Twitter
the show was organized with the help of the Ayden Gallery in Vancouver and some clothing company called Lifetime Collective. My guess would be that the folk at Ayden put some art in the mail, and the folk at Lifetime sent a check – but I could be wrong. The large majority of it is arranged grid-like on the back wall of the store. There are a couple of other places as well where they have managed to hang some stuff, but as it really and truly is a clothing store, the art is not quite as front and center as I would have preferred.
East vs. West at Three Monkeys, installation view, image courtesy Three Monkeys and Facebook
It’s a fairly large group of artists, thirteen to be exact, six from Vancouver and nine Montrealers (Peter Ricq was identified as being from both Montreal and Vancouver). Other than the geography, there isn’t really anything linking the art together which depending on where you sit could be a good thing or a bad thing. Bad in that anytime you try to start making links between art it is unlikely to work as well as you think, and there is a strong chance that someone like me will come along and question just about everything. Good in that it does give the viewer some kind of hook on which they can hang their hat. The geography thing does work as the hook in this case.
East vs. West at Three Monkeys, installation view
But since there was nothing on the tags to identify who came from where, and I didn’t really go from one end of the store to the other to double check against the list that was written by the door, I didn’t really get any sense of regional identity for any of the artists. It was much more like, “here it is, look at it.”
East vs. West at Three Monkeys, installation view
So I did. The quality of the work was uniformly pretty good, there wasn’t anything that really jumped out a beat me over the head with how great it was. The closest would have been the double exposure portrait by Andrew Young, either because it was centered on the back wall, it was a larger piece, because of its unusual canvas, or more likely all three.
Overall, as you might have guessed, I’m quite fond of shows like this. A sort of pop-up gallery if you will, furthering the idea that art should be an inegral part of everyone’s life. It especially helps that there wasn’t any heavy theory behind it, and that the quality of all the work was above average. I hope that the people who attended the vernissage bought some clothes as well as some art, so that more exhibits like this can be done.
If you want to take a gander at it, Three Monkeys is on the Metcalfe side of Les Cours Mont Royal right next to the fountain, and the show itself is up until the end of the month.
Description of show
Highlights
Mention of NYTimes article
