Tag Archives: Place des Arts

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

Pierre Granche, Comme si le temps… de la rue

September 7, 2011 zeke

Howdy!

One of my favorite Montreal sculptures is Comme si le temps… de la rue by Pierre Granche. Unfortunately, in the most recent set of renovations to what used to be the Hall des Pas perdus of Place des Arts, but that they now call Espace culturel Georges-Émile-Lapalme they have just about killed it.

A little background; back in the early 90’s the Musée d’art contemporain de Montréal was planning on moving from Cité du Havre to downtown and getting themselves a brand spanking new building in the process. As the law stipulated, 1% of the project had to be dedicated to creating art. Even if it was a museum they still had to make more art specifically for the place (that’s one of the things I like most in theory about the 1% for art law, is that it ends up creating site specific work).

Anyhows, Pierre Granche [pdf alert] a sculptor and a teacher (he was one of the people responsible for the Universite de Montreal‘s visual arts department – and now that he’s dead, they no longer have one. Make of that what you will…) submitted a proposal and won. (I’m still going to have to try and find out who was one the jury.) And in 1992, what ended up getting built was Comme si le temps… de la rue.

The view from the bar of Comme si le temps... de la rue by Pierre Granche

Basically it was a bunch of aluminum cutouts in a semi circle with a waterfall. It was open to the sky and viewable from the esplanade of Place des Arts, which gave a viewer the chance to have a complete overview of the entire piece (which is not a small piece by any stretch of the imagination). And there is a skylight looking down into the Musée d’art contemporain de Montréal’s restoration workshops.

[Old pictures here, here, here, and here]

I never gave it much thought, always figuring that at some time in the future I would hunker down and give it the time, energy and thought that it required.

Well that time is now (actually, Sunday night, as I try to write these posts in advance of posting them). Because I was passing by over the weekend and from where I sit the powers that be (in reality Consortium Menkès, Schooner, Dagenais, Le Tourneux/Provencher, Roy Jean-Pierre Le Tourneux, concepteur Claude Bourbeau, chargé de projet) have completely and thoroughly killed, destroyed, ruined and entirely screwed up Comme si le temps… de la rue [pdf alert] by Pierre Granche.

In short, by placing a roof over it and turning off the waterfall, they have stripped the sculpture of all meaning, significance and comprehensibility. it is now no more than the equivalent of a fancy-ass and extremely expensive indoor lawn ornament for the Deschamps bar at Place des Arts.

Another view from the bar of Comme si le temps... de la rue by Pierre Granche

From the seats at the the Deschamps bar, it is completely and thoroughly impossible to get any perspective on the piece. By being so close to it, you literally can’t see the forest for the trees.

The third view from the bar of Comme si le temps... de la rue by Pierre Granche

The roof of the bar prevents you from seeing the tops of the sculptures. And by being so close you can no longer gain any perspective on the base. And perspective was what Comme si le temps… de la rue was all about. There are two extremely large and two merely large aluminum sculptures that depending on which way you swing could represent either the ancient Egyptian god Sobek, or the ancient Egyptian god Set. There are also a couple of construction cranes, and seven things, that again (depending on which way you swing) could either be some sort of vaguely sphinx-like objects, or if you squint really heard could be viewed as some kind of deer or reindeer-like domesticated animal.

The plaque for Comme si le temps... de la rue by Pierre Granche

My quick and dirty translation of the plaque for the blokes in the house

Pierre Granche’s installation offers a mythical vision of Montreal. Inspired from Greek Theatre and Egyptian iconography, it works a representation of the urban fabric between Mount Royal and the St. Lawrence River through the use of a waterfall. Sculptured female figures used as a columns in an Egyptian style with bird’s heads refer to the history of art and architecture in a totem pole fashion. The sphinxes with deer antlers make their presence known on the outskirts of a city in action. And finally, the bird’s eye view of the work was from the esplanade of Place des Arts Preview, reflects the city as the top of Mont Royal.

OK, how many mistakes can you spot? If I were a tourist wandering through Espace culturel Georges-Émile-Lapalme I’d be scratching my head in wonder, trying to figure out what the heck they were talking about. Waterfall? Bird’s eye view? There ain’t none, no more.

And while I’m at it, there isn’t any Greekness (theatre or iconography or anything else) in the piece. When they are writing in French they use the word cariatides or in squarehead speak: caryatid, or in plain English “a sculpted female figure serving as an architectural support taking the place of a column or a pillar supporting moldings and bands on her head.” (Thanks Wikipedia!) And they speak of it as the parts that are Greek. One problem though, a column by definition supports something. And these objects don’t support a darn thing. Comme si le temps… de la rue is 100% Egyptian in its influences.

A slightly different interior view of Comme si le temps... de la rue by Pierre Granche

And as long as I am disputing the “official” wall plaque. Those aren’t deer antlers on the sphinxes either. ~~I don’t think that there ever was a 37 point buck that ever lived… anywhere~~.

One of the sphinx-like objects in Comme si le temps... de la rue by Pierre Granche.

However, if you go with the idea that the two extremely large and the two merely large sculptures are representations of the Egyptian god Set, the god of chaos and foreign lands. Then I think we’re getting someplace. The early 1990s in Quebec were a volatile place. Quebec was on the cusp of a referendum to separate, the Bloc Quebecois were founded in 1991. In between 1990 and 1993 there were 46 major buildings built in Montreal. The Montreal Expos were sold in 1991 and subsequently became one of the best teams in major league baseball in the early 1990s. 1992 was also the 375th anniversary of the founding of Montreal. There were a ton of things happening in Montreal at the time and there was most definitely a sense of chaos in the air (if you don’t trust me, ask someone else who lived here then).

Interior view of Comme si le temps... de la rue by Pierre Granche

Also if you look closely, on each of the Sets, there is a cityscape, with some sort of root structure. I’m not quite certain what to make of the root structures. But if you flip them upside down, they become the deer antlers on the sphinxes. And there are no known instances of deer appearing in ancient Egypt. But maybe, kind of, perhaps it has something to do with some sort of family tree-like structure? I dunno.

But we’re getting off the point here. Comme si le temps… de la rue is all about Montreal. There’s a representation of the mountain on the largest Set, and the waterfall was a direct reference to the river.

Detail of Comme si le temps... de la rue by Pierre Granche showing the mountain on Set's head.

Detail of Comme si le temps... de la rue by Pierre Granche showing the (now dry) waterfall

Detail of Comme si le temps... de la rue by Pierre Granche showing the drain

And while we’re showing lots of pictures, here are some of it from above.

As you approach to view of Comme si le temps... de la rue by Pierre Granche

A horrible view of Comme si le temps... de la rue by Pierre Granche

Still another horrible view of Comme si le temps... de la rue by Pierre Granche

And then in consideration of the unilingual people in the house, Comme si le temps… de la rue translates as “As if time… from the street.” You can fill in the blank yourself, but by referring back to ancient Egyptian times Granche endows Montreal with a similar sense of history. Despite it being made when Montreal was only 350 years-old, if you squint hard enough (or maybe click your heels three times or go to the Neighborhood of Make-Believe) you can pretend that Montreal has been around for more than 5,000 years, just like Egypt.

Then my last question is, if it was made for the construction of the Musée d’art contemporain de Montréal and is directly on top of their restoration workshops, why does it belong to the Place des Arts collection? Shouldn’t it belong to the Musée d’art contemporain de Montréal?

Art, Montréal, Public Art, Québec, Review, Visual Art

Micheline Beauchemin’s Rideau de lumière, couleur du temps (1967)

August 22, 2011 zeke

Howdy!

Imagine if you will a piece of art that is ignored by approximately 150,000 people ever year. And a pretty gosh darn spectacular piece of art at that… Such is the predicament of Micheline Beauchemin‘s Rideau de lumière, couleur du temps (1967). I guess that there are approximately 750 seats in Théâtre Maisonneuve at Place des Arts, and that it has some sort of performance about 200 nights every year. Therefore if my guesses are right, 150,000 people pass by it each and every year. (Although, before you go quoting me, be aware, I am horrible at guessing things and I have been wrong before, and most definitely will be wrong again).

The Plaque for Micheline Beauchemin’s Rideau de lumière, couleur du temps (1967)

As the plaque says:

Curtain of Light, Color of the Times (1967). 300,000 pieces of acrylic mounted on stainless steel wires. 305 feet by 25 feet. Collection Place des Arts, restored in 2000.

And I presume it was all made by hand. Because back in those days they had just graduated from inventing fire and the wheel, and no one had figured out how to invent technology, yet.

But one of the weirdest things is watching how just about everyone before a performance at Théâtre Maisonneuve and during intermission pretty much ignores it. While the drinks they serve at the bar during intermission might be cold and delicious, or the desire to get that front row centre seat might be overwhelming for those that arrive early, flat out ignoring Micheline Beauchemin’s Rideau de lumière, couleur du temps (1967) just ends up making someone look like a mouth breather.

As I mentioned, it is made out of pieces of acrylic and stainless steel wires. The pieces of acrylic appear to be extruded in a variety of different shapes; triangular, diamond, pentagonal, and something looking like a vaguely irregular cylinder. Each one is about one inch in length (the metric system hadn’t been invented then, either) and has about a one inch gap separating it from the piece above and about another one inch gap separating it from the one below. Each thread is spaced about two inches from the ones adjacent. The acrylic pieces are suspended on stainless steel spacers that have been crimped onto the wires. These spacers are used as stoppers to prevent the pieces of acrylic from falling, by means of a conical hole drilled into the center of each piece of acrylic. And finally, each wire has a plumb at the bottom so that it hangs straight.

Installation view of Micheline Beauchemin’s Rideau de lumière, couleur du temps (1967)

In the picture above you can see the spacers, notice as well, the regular distribution of the acrylic pieces both horizontally and vertically. Although surprisingly, I was not able to figure out, nor see any pattern made using the shapes of the pieces of acrylic. But then again wrapping my head and eyes around 300,000 pieces of extruded acrylic is not something I try and do every day. When viewed head on, the curtain appears for the most part translucent, because your eyes naturally focus on what is beyond the curtain and window it is hung in front of – the plaza of Place des Arts, and now (unfortunately) the behemoth that has become the Quartier des Spectacles. However, when viewed on an angle it quickly becomes opaque, due to the fact that your eyes will naturally focus on the pieces of acrylic.

Installation view of Micheline Beauchemin\’s Rideau de lumière, couleur du temps (1967)

Micheline Beauchemin was born in Longueuil in 1929 and died in Les Grondines in 2009 about a month short of her 80th birthday. In between those dates she packed an amazing amount of travel, work and awards into her life. Initially trained as a painter and in stained glass at the Montreal School of Fine Arts, the École des beaux-arts in Paris and the Académie de la Grande Chaumière in Paris. She began making tapestries in the early 1950s, and first exhibited her tapestries in 1956 in France. In about 1963 she hit her stride, and by 1968 was making monumental tapestries like this one. (If you would like more details about her life, I snagged some useful information from these websites, one, two, three, and I’m certain that if you dig a little deeper, you can find lots more).

Installation view of Micheline Beauchemin\’s Rideau de lumière, couleur du temps (1967)

There is an awful lot that can be read into Rideau de lumière, couleur du temps (1967) starting with the materials used; while it is called Curtain of Light, Color of the Times the curtain itself doesn’t give off any light, but it does both reflect the light and let the light through. As mentioned above, the curtain becomes opaque, and starts reflecting light when you view it on an angle, this is a purely physical reaction due to the spaces between each strand appearing smaller and smaller. Because it reflects the light when viewed on an angle, depending on the lighting in front of the Curtain of Light, Color of the Times it can appear warm or cold, and it can have a muted glow or a bright and hard shine. In fact it is incredibly chameleon-like. This characteristic is especially evident when it is viewed head on. When viewed head on, the spaces between each strand are large enough that your eyes naturally focus on what is behind the curtain, in effect making the curtain not only transparent but in certain cases, invisible.

Installation view of Micheline Beauchemin\’s Rideau de lumière, couleur du temps (1967)

Made at the height of the 60s, and at the time when Montreal appeared to be the absolute best-est place in the entire known universe to live, Rideau de lumière, couleur du temps (1967) absolutely and completely lives up to and beyond its name. As a curtain of light, it is a spectacular example, reflecting and glittering gently, in the background unobtrusively doing its business – hence why so many people ignore it – working as a barrier between the inside and the outside. It also serves as a very hippy take on marquee lights, and can also be interpreted as a way of reflecting and thereby reminding the audience of what happens (or has happened) in Théâtre Maisonneuve. And as it is also transparent and see-through, it thoroughly can be understood as a color of the times – or more bluntly, you can see through it to see what is happening now, what is coloring and shading reality.

Outstanding in just about every respect, Micheline Beauchemin’s Rideau de lumière, couleur du temps (1967) is a monumental tapestry that works well on very many levels. From the purely aesthetic, to the highly theoretical and abstract. Suitable as a discreet background for a public room and as an object in its own right that commands 100% of your attention, it shows off many of Micheline Beauchemin’s ideas and concepts while at the same time spotlighting her skill and mastery as an artist.

[cross posted at art and society]