Showing posts with label artist interviews. Show all posts
Showing posts with label artist interviews. Show all posts

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Return to the Spiritual: Tim Whiten at the new Art Gallery of Ontario


Back in the spring, I saw a show of Toronto artist Tim Whiten at Olga Korper Gallery. Much as I loved the ethereal quality of Whiten's work, I had concerns about whether its fragility would be treated with respect by collectors. It just has such a personally spiritual quality that is both impressive and at the same time highly dependent on a delicate web of associations within different pieces.

With that experience in mind, I approached the commission of Whiten's work for the newly renovated Art Gallery of Ontario with some trepidation. Would the gallery give Whiten the space and freedom he needs? For the final evaluation, I'll have to return to see the completed install; but for the time being I'm very glad they asked him to contribute his work Elysium, which I saw in a partial version last Friday.

Well before Damien Hirst began his skull-riffage, Whiten was working (back in the 80s) with actual skulls, adorning them with various treatments to striking effect. Here the skulls reappear with some long wooden staffs. My Q&A in today's National Post with Whiten offers his perspective on the deeper meaning of this work, as well as its connection to the new AGO in general. Click here to find page AL12 of the digital edition, or read on after the jump for the text.

Detail shot of Tim Whiten's Elysium courtesy of the artist; photo by Artin Aryai

ACROSS THE GREAT DIVIDE
National Post, Nov 13 2008 Page AL12

There are thousands of artworks to take in at the newly renovated AGO. But as a whole, what do they mean? Senior Toronto artist Tim Whiten, who installed a new work specifically for the relaunch, sees it as community — and by extension, perhaps, a kind of communion. Here, he tells Leah Sandals about the delicate art of spiritual reconstruction.

Q In your own words, how would you describe this art piece?

A This installation is called Elysium, and it’s a combination of elements that create a relationship of energies from past to present, from historic to modern understandings, from the mythic to contemporary notions of life.

Q You have a long tradition of addressing spirituality in your work, and that comes across strongly here. Why do you have this interest?

A Well, as a human race we’ve lost our contact with the spiritual concerns of life. The churches are less full than before. People aren’t committed to something that’s beyond themselves, and they’re treating each other horribly.

I think ultimately the nature of spirituality is to recognize the human community as one. And the reminder of that is part of what I’m dealing with — to say, “Hey, let’s not leave this behind; let’s get this together and keep this moving as a species.” I’m trying to give people that understanding in a way they can experience rather than as something theoretical.

Q How did you create what seem to be walking sticks?

A Those are staffs. There’s a grove of lilac bushes next to my studio that have been there for years. I’ve always had a connection to those lilacs; I like to see them flower in the spring. In many ways, they mark the seasons for me. So they seemed a good fit as a marker of moving through the cycle of life. And I used them here as that. They’re hand-whittled, very simply done.

Q And how did you create the skulls?

A Basically, we take a human skull and apply chewing gum, which is like a skin, as well as glass eyes. We proceed in layers of development mimicking the way the body is built up.

Q Are they real skulls?

A I never use plastic. I always use real materials; these were obtained in an honest way.

Q On a different note, you have, in the past, made glass versions of construction tools. Do you see everyday hardware, which has proliferated around the AGO of late, as spiritual, too?

A Tools are the way in which we can materialize things; they become the means by which we can take things from an idea into a physical reality. They’re almost a means of transcendence that way. The tools also come from a connection to my father, who was a carpenter.

Q So do you think there’s a spiritual aspect into the renovation of this building?

A Yes. One of the things that’s really important about the spiritual aspect of this building being renewed is it reconnects community. For the first time in the history of this area, the nature of this community is particularly related to the artist and the participation of art in the larger realm. That’s why I’m honoured to be a part of this; it’s a first for bringing the community together in this way.

Q Does that mean, by extension, that art galleries are like alternative churches?

A No. But galleries and museums have always been repositories for the history of culture. They bring together all the things that we are. I think there’s a real aspect of manifesting how a culture can talk to itself, relate to itself and see visions materialized. And I think that process is spiritual, even if it’s not religious per se.

Q What are you working on next?

A I’m just finishing a piece for the Canadian Clay and Glass Gallery, which consists of two prayer wheels done in glass with brass fittings. People can spin them, because the notion of the prayer wheel is that every time the wheel turns there’s a prayer that’s being said. It goes from a gesture of the body into mental and other levels.

Q Your work at the AGO will live alongside many other artworks. What heartens you most about seeing art today?

A The idea that it can relate directly to people’s lives, that it can really touch people. I think that’s what it’s all about. If you can’t transform someone’s life by touching them, why do it?

Tim Whiten’s work at the Art Gallery of Ontario opens to the public tomorrow. Visit ago.net for details.

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Monday, November 10, 2008

George Webber: Portrait Poet of the Canadian Prairies


You know, if we did have the government will to continue with plans for a National Portrait Gallery, it would be a great place to see George Webber's artworks. This Calgary photographer has spent the past 25 years beautifully documenting the people and places of the prairie region. Being a Manitoba/Alberta gal myself, I can definitely say his images quite capture the feeling of that area. So I was pleased to be able to chat with him last week in relation to a show at the Art Gallery of Calgary. The National Post published our Q&A today. Click on to page L8 of the digital edition or read on after the jump to find out how Webber frames his life and his art.

George Webber's Hutterite Girl with Pigeon, 1992, from ccca.ca


Keeping up with the pace of change
National Post, Nov 10 2008, Page L8
By Leah Sandals

Though prices of commodities might be dropping, the oil-rich Prairies remain an economic — and increasingly, political — powerhouse of the country. But there are also many lesserknown stories of personal and spiritual power from that region that are waiting to be told. Award-winning Calgary photographer George Webber has spent 25 years documenting these less conspicuous tales. Now, with an exhibit of his portraits on display at the Art Gallery of Calgary, Webber tells Leah Sandals how he puts the art into heartland.

Q You’ve been photographing Alberta and Saskatchewan for more than 20 years. What intrigues you?

A Well, it’s my home, that’s the primary thing. Also, it’s rich in narrative and mythology. I often think of what Faulkner talked about in his novels, using a postage-sized piece of material and exploring that for a lifetime. So over the years I’ve done projects on the Prairies’ small towns, Hutterites, First Nations, landscapes and the whole look and texture of the place.

Q How did you become a photographer?

A I was born in Drumheller, a small town in Alberta, and came to Calgary when I was seven. I started photographing when I was 27, but I think an ongoing theme for me is trying to bring a child’s sense of magic to these places.

Also, I’m attracted to working in the tradition of black-and-white documentary inspired by Henri Cartier Bresson, Diane Arbus and Eugene Atget. Just the process of working the darkroom can be contemplative. There’s some kind of slow feedback you get working in that enclosed amber-lit space for hours. Having said that, I shoot digital now, too.

Q How did you access communities that are often closed to photographers, such as Hutterite colonies?

A There’s an attraction for me to enter into an intimate and unseen community, to photograph unphotographable things. Many Hutterites don’t permit photography at all. They see photography as a prideful sort of activity; the idea that someone would put their own photo up would be vanity. But some are more liberal in how they see those things.

For me, entering into those places where cameras are not common is part of the challenge of having someone open up to me. It often takes months of small steps. I spent four years with the Hutterites for a recent book, and the project on the Blood Reserve, the largest reserve in Canada, is now at year 16. There’s a lot of patience.

Q Many small, shrinking Prairie towns have been reinvigorated by recent oil and potash booms. What changes have you noticed over the years?

A Certainly change happens, but the rate of change or perceptions of the speed of change seem to be much slower in these communities that I photograph. In Calgary, by contrast, change is happening with breakneck speed.
Still, I think people photograph because things are always disappearing and changing. Whether someone’s photographing professionally, like I do, or just taking a photo of their child, that impulse to record and hold something that is disappearing is a really fundamental one.

The other reason people often photograph is because there’s a narrative element or story embedded in these changes. In my book on the Blood Reserve, there are photographs of a man who had alcohol problems and then reconnected with spiritual traditions. For me, such stories are frequently heroic. Sometimes, it’s dramatically so, other times it’s smaller in scale. So I sometimes photograph for the same reason people read novels; you’re looking for a little instruction manual on life.

Q Conservative politicians, who dominate the West, were accused of being anti-arts in our recent election. What’s your take on being an artist in Alberta?

A I think because Alberta’s been a bit off the art radar, I’ve had a great sense of personal freedom. I don’t think there are the same kinds of pressures that you might find in Toronto where there’s more history and more tradition. The fact that the politicians are conservative is in the background, and I realize the work I do is not the kind of work that will collide with those kinds of values. But there’s something about the space, the population and that mythic idea of the less constrained individual that rings on.

George Webber continues to Jan. 3 at the Art Gallery of Calgary. Visit artgallerycalgary.org for details.

Image of George Webber's Craigmyle, Alberta, 1987 from ccca.ca

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