Category Archives: Visual Art

Henri Venne : Somewhere in Between at Art Mûr

Howdy!

Back in 2004 I saw a show by Henri Venne at the Musée d’art contemporain de Montréal, I wasn’t impressed. I have a vague memory of large blue paintings of the sky, or something similar. Filed him away as a decent Quebecois artists whose work I wasn’t particularly fond of, kind of like Pierre Lalonde or Boom Desjardins. Someone kind of faceless in the crowd, who is required in order to have a crowd.

I don’t think I particularly noticed when he got a show at the Musee d’art de Joliette (and shouldn’t an artist with a career that’s going places first have a show in Joliette and then in Montreal? And not the other way around?) nor was I expecting to see his work when I went to Art Mûr – I had trucked up there ostensibly to see something else, more on that later. Anyhows, I was quite impressed.

One of the sensations I kind of remember from his show in 2004 was some kind of meditative spin on things, him trying to paint (I think they were paintings) the space in between dozing off and a full sleep. That kind of trance you can end up in if you repeat the same word, gesture or action over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over (ain’t copy/paste grand?!). As far as I can tell there are lots of people out there who believe that those trances are good. I’m not one of them, which is why I probably lumped him in the same space as Boom Desjardins.

This time however I was very impressed at the shininess of his current work. Where the work of his in my memory was kind of flat with a subtle texture (again, I think) from the brush. Which kind of aided to at least understand the Zen-like sensations I felt I was supposed to feel. These photographs are shiny to the point where if they were laid on the floor, you could almost dive right in. All of them are photographs roughly two feet by three feet that are mounted underneath a very thick piece of plexiglass.

Henri Venne, You Should Have Seen What I’ve Seen (detail) 2012
Henri Venne, You Should Have Seen What I’ve Seen (detail) 2012

I accidentally forgot my measuring tape in my other pants when I visited Art Mûr so I can’t tell you if it’s ¼” or ½” or something even thicker. But great gosh-a’mighty that plexiglass made them shiny as all get go. Now I kind of have this hate/hate relationship with shiny contemporary art. I tend to look at it as a extremely facile and simplistic method to make otherwise unremarkable art extremely sellable. Normally it’s done with multiple layers of varnish which requires some (not much) skill – as an aside it’s because of the varnishing that here in Quebec we call an art opening a Vernissage. Back in the good old days, once a painter finished some paintings for a an exhibition, he’d invite his friends over to help him varnish them so that they would be suitable for display. Since varnishing a painting is a fairly tedious job, he’d (back in the good old days 99% of your professional artists were men) have to bribe them with bottles of wine to keep them happy. As a consequence, these varnishing parties could get quite boisterous, and it was only a matter of time before a vernissage became synonymous with the opening of an exhibit. But I digress…

Henri Venne, Somewhere in Between at Art Mur, installation view
Henri Venne, Somewhere in Between at Art Mur, installation view

M. Venne’s work in this show is eight nearly monochromatic, nearly featureless, photographs (there are only seven pieces of art, because one of the pieces, I’ll Keep You There… So Long is a diptych). As simple as rain on a window, the most prevalent feature of these photographs is the color. They are for the most part gradients of primary color (gradiented primary color? Primary color gradients?) – there is one that is orange – and look pretty much like what I would imagine the world looks like if you were severely myopic.

Henri Venne, I’ll Keep You There… So Long (diptych), digital print mounted under plexiglass, 67cm x 183cm, 2012
Henri Venne, I’ll Keep You There… So Long (diptych), digital print mounted under plexiglass, 67cm x 183cm, 2012

Extremely simple in concept and form, it’s the sort of thing which makes me gnash my teeth. Instead of using new and improved tools to make new and improved art. M. Venne uses new and improved tools (in this case a fancy-ass digital camera, and fancy-ass digital printer, and a fancy-ass laminator) to make the same old, same old. While I probably should applaud him for being consistent with his art, I can’t help but feel a little bit cheated, because the picture itself is meaningless. Without a title and the title of the show itself all they are are shiny contemporary versions of medium sized colorfields. They aren’t breaking any new ground nor they aren’t earth-shattering, and while all art doesn’t have to be ground-breaking or earth-shattering, when you are using current technologies it helps, a lot. Because if your art isn’t ground-breaking and earth-shattering then it runs the risk of being mundane. Being mundane isn’t a good thing.

Henri Venne, Tomorrow Started, 85cm x 102cm, digital print mounted under plexiglass
Henri Venne, Tomorrow Started, 85cm x 102cm, digital print mounted under plexiglass

It’s the kind of work that I am used to seeing from artists at Galerie de Bellefeuille or Simon Blais. While I am not against the commercialization of art, there are certain times when it hits me that something “art-like” is much closer to being a commodity, and this is one of those times, right down to the fact that he does not bother to mention to size of the print run for each of the pictures.

Despite the bafflegab and gobbledy-gook in Art Mûr’s magazine about pensiveness, and reflection, to me M. Venne’s work is all about sellability. There are some times when shopping can cause a sensation of bliss, or at least that’s what I’ve been told. So I really shouldn’t be raining on anyone’s parade. Especially, since I think that M. Venne’s work is incredibly sellable. They’re priced appropriately, in that region that will make the buyer instantaneously recognize that the work is serious, while at the same time not being outrageous. Or if you prefer, about 57¢/cm2 a pop or $3.59/in2. (66¢/cm2 with taxes. If you’re buying Quebecois art, you can save some serious change by having it shipped either out of province or out of the country).

Henri Venne, Somewhere in Between at Art Mur, installation view
Henri Venne, Somewhere in Between at Art Mur, installation view

At that price, don’t forget that it probably would help immensely to bring both a swatch from your couch and a paint chip from your wall color so as to make sure that they match the picture.

Henri Venne: Somewhere in Between was exhibited at Art Mûr from April 26 until June 16, 2012

Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin

Howdy!

I don’t know what it is, but Charles Daudelin isn’t getting much respect these days. Beyond the fiasco that is Square Viger, there’s also Allégrocube. Completed in 1973 as part of the 1% art integration law for the building of the Palais de Justice two sides initially moved on hinges, opening and closing like a clam-shell. But they have been busted for at least a dozen years, if not more. It’s made of something called Muntz Metal which is like brass and made of 60% copper, 40% zinc with a trace of iron.

Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin, showing the hinges
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin, showing the hinges

Initially, when a friend told me that it was supposed to move, I thought that they were pulling my leg. But nope, the city just let it break and then decided not to fix it.

Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin, showing the hinges
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin, showing the hinges
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin, showing the hinges
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin, showing the hinges
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin, showing the hinges
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin, showing the hinges
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Detail of Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Plaque for Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin
Plaque for Allégrocube by Charles Daudelin

Agora and Mastodo by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger

Howdy!

It seems that Charles Daudelin isn’t getting much respect these days. He died about a decade ago and it seems that everywhere I turn there’s another one of his works which is being being neglected. Last month I was down at Square Viger and took some pictures of his Agora and Mastodo, both of which have been consigned to junkies and other marginal members of society.

Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger

There were articles in 2010 and earlier this year talking about how Agora is going to hell in a handbasket and Heritage Montreal is also concerned. I’m not certain what to think.

Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Mastodo by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Mastodo by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Mastodo by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Mastodo by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Mastodo by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Mastodo by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Mastodo by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Mastodo by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger
Agora by Charles Daudelin at Square Viger

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.

Roméo Savoie, Éventail (J) – stolen art alert

Howdy!

Roméo Savoie, Eventail (J) - image courtesy Sûreté du Québec
Roméo Savoie, Eventail (J) - image courtesy Sûreté du Québec

Unfortunately I have no details as to when it was stolen, where in Quebec it was stolen (if in fact it was stolen in Quebec), who it was stolen from or how it was stolen, or how much it is worth. The Sûreté du Québec has teamed up with the RCMP (and possibly the Montreal Police department as well) to have an art crimes unit. Every now and again they send out an email which lists (sometimes with pictures, sometimes without) of art that has been stolen. This was what was in the most recent one which was sent out last week.

It’s kind of nice, while at the same time being kind of frustrating. Not having access to all the information possible kind of makes for less than half a story. If you’d like to get on their mailing list and find out about stolen Quebecois art (although in this case it appears to be stolen Acadian art, as Roméo Savoie is Acadian) then send an email to Art.Alert@surete.qc.ca and ask.

I every now and again scan Craigslist and Kijiji, but haven’t come across anything yet. I presume that all the local auction houses check their lots against some list, but as I am typing that, I suddenly am not as confident. Empire, Iegor and La Maison des Encans de Montréal are the three major places to buy art in Montreal at auction.

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.

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

Howdy!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Art News vs. Real News

Howdy!

After reading for the umpteenth time (first, second, third) that Renata and Michal Hornstein are donating the rest of their collection to the Musée des beaux-arts de Montréal, and that the Quebec government was going to pay to build a new building for it, I almost blew a gasket.

First, the news was probably announced during the museum’s AGM. As the museum’s year end is March 31, that probably means sometime in April. Somehow the media failed to pick up on it then. Second, it was the lead item in the latest issue of the museum’s magazine (creatively named “M”) which was mailed to all VIPs at the beginning of May. It didn’t make the news then either. So finally, on the 25th of May, a full month after making the donation the museum released a press release (which for some reason isn’t on their website) and suddenly it was news.

Fourth, while the Musée des beaux-arts de Montréal likes to tout that they are a private museum, this is the second building that they have succeeding in convincing the Quebec government to finance. (I do not know about the three previous expansions, as I wasn’t following things all that closely in the 70s and 80s). Man! I wish I could be have a “private” corporation and convince the government to build me a new building every time my crap collection of objects got larger than my place.

Fifth, and this is the one that really gets my goat. Included in every report is that the “new” building will be named after Renata and Michal Hornstein. But they all fail to note that there already is a building named after Renata and Michal Hornstein! So are there going to be two? Are they going to re-rename the Hornstein building after Beniah Gibb? Or some other collector?

As an aside, if I was Paulette Gagnon, I’d be pissed as all get out at Raymond Bachand.

And then, sixth and finally, just after this news, the building at 1350 Sherbrooke st. West (right across Bishop street from the museum) put a large banner on its walls after sitting empty for the better part of the past 10 years saying that they were turning it into condos. Coincidence?

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.