I really enjoyed Graham Gillmore's show at Clark & Faria, which closed on the weekend. Though the above work wasn't in the show, it's a good example of the way Gillmore is really able to deal interestingly with text and colour. Kind of a shoe-in for a word person who likes art, but whatever.
On a somewhat related note, I noticed while I was visiting the Distillery that Gibsone Jessop is gone—windows papered over, sign removed. This makes it the fourth gallery to depart the Distillery in less than a year. (Though their site mentions in small print that it's moving elsewhere, no other address is listed. I'll believe it when I see it--Sandra Ainsley and Artcore's new spaces having gone MIA.)
While some might say the galleries that left were basically "leaving since they opened," and would have failed anywhere in town, I marvel at the Distillery's ability to shed these art venues while at the same time retain some of their cultural branding cachet. It's kind of like Gentrification Classic (TM), with the art businesses coming in to raise property values until Fresh & Wild arrives. Now I know Fresh & Wild has its benefits—particularly because there's no grocery store nearby to feed local condo dwellers—but it's sad to see the area lose a bit of its art-critical mass. I don't shed a tear for these galleries that have left, but that kind of planning strategy is saddening.
Then again, who knows? Maybe all these guys skipped rent. Anyone with details is welcome to share.
Image of Graham Gillmore's Rejection Letter 2009 from canadianart.ca
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Enjoyed: Graham Gillmore at Clark & Faria
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Comic Relief
Sometimes, when you're an editor-type/word nerd having a tough day, you can happen upon a typo that will bring a little levity. Thank you, Piccolo Ristorante. Thank you, rack of lamp!
Monday, March 22, 2010
Get Yo Face on Brookfield Place - Contact Style
From what I hear, this year's Contact festival, which starts May 1, will have some pretty interesting installations. One will be a stained-glass style mural, created by Quebec duo Doyon Rivest, that plays up the cathedral-like style of Brookfield Place's Calatrava-designed atrium. And next week, downtowners have a chance to perhaps become a part of the final installation--Doyon Rivest are conducting a public photo shoot on Tuesday March 30 at Brookfield Place from 10 - 5 pm. As described in the Contact release that went out today,
Sitters will be photographed in the dark with their faces illuminated by their electronic portable devices: cell phone, iPod etc. Each photo will take approximately two minutes. The captured portraits will be digitally compiled to make one image that will be displayed as a large-scale installation.
About the Installation:
Doyon-Rivest will make spectacular use of the cathedral-like qualities of the Galleria. The artists will transform the Bay St entrance's 18-meter-high window into a giant stained glass-like artwork.
About the Project:
Le siècle des lumières, an encompassing image will reveal a series of portraits lighted by the small screens of portable electronic devices. These sources of light only reveal faces, which seem to float in an undetermined space, creating an atmosphere that makes us think of the beauty of the night sky.
Image of Doyon Rivest's Le siècle des lumières, 2008 from Contact
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Advice from Vino Critics: You Can't Taste It All
Yesterday, I gave a presentation at a conference organized by York U's graduate art history students. I set out to learn something from all the talks, and I most certainly did—folks are studying some pretty interesting stuff these days.
I myself gave at talk titled "On Being a Journalistic Parasite: Writing and Thinking about Art as a Form of Appropriation," (The conference was themed on appropriation, so this was the best way I could think to connect my experience in arts journalism to the conference theme.)
The talk touched on that idea from a few angles, but one point I enjoyed conveying was that the idea of critic in particular as parasite has come up in the area of wine criticism, among other areas.
A couple of years ago at a wine conference in Spain, Financial Times wine correspondent Jancis Robinson caused a bit of stir when she said, flat out "We [critics] must always remember that we are parasites on the business of winemaking."
She also had a line I thought was absolutely terrific relating to the subjectivity of every critic: "We must realise we only have one palate."
I take Robinson's statement to mean something like "Don't think you can understand or sense it all--the nuances in every bottle of wine, the themes and histories in every artwork. You have a set sensibility or set of receptors, which might be refined or expanded through training and other experiences--but people, let's deal with the truth that no one person can taste it all!"
I think it's a relief to hear a critic make an assertion like this--while a related article notes Robinson may have simply been attempting to promote a little humility among wine critics (maybe arrogance reigns in that realm? dunno) I really think her statement is also just a nice human thing to acknowledge.
You can't taste it all, people. You can't taste it all! New motto.
On a somewhat related note, it recently came to my attention (via an article by David Lawrason in Toronto Life) that a group of American wine critics revolutionized reviewing in their area of criticism three decades ago by implementing a 100-point scoring system that has become the industry standard. Lawrason believes that the ratings should also be arrived at through a consistent ingestion regimen--tastings must be controlled for time of day, number of wines tasted and the type of glass being used. Can you imagine if this standard was applied to art critics? ("You can only see four shows maximum in a day, and always from 2-5pm after you've had a coffee. Dressed for the weather as well, so not to be too hot/cold when viewing. Oh yeah, and you must score numerically on form, content, presentation, and so on.")
Interesting diversions and similarities to the art realm--Lawrason does note that that "purists argue that you can't put a number on a piece of art (assuming wine is an art—an unwinnable debate for another day)".
Image of Jancis Robinson from Taste In
Friday, March 19, 2010
Of Culture and Cups: Q&A with Brendan Tang
Ever since Brendan Tang's intriguingly mashed up ceramics were included in How Soon is Now at the Vancouver Art Gallery last year, I've been trying to keep an eye on his practice. His objects are really interesting and unusual, combining various cultural influences (the most often cited ones are Manga comics and Ormolu ceramics).
Today the National Post published my Q&A with him as he has two shows on at the moment - one at the SAAG in Lethbridge and another at the Mendel in Saskatoon. (More are on the way this year at the Gardiner in Toronto, Option Art in Chicago and the Bellevue Arts Museum in Washington State. Here's an excerpt from our chat:
Q Your parents are Trinidadian, you were born in Ireland and you grew up in Canada, with further links in China and India. How does that influence your art?
A It's funny. I felt similar to the Ormolu when I first saw them because I look Chinese, but I feel very Westernized. Those objects felt like they no longer belonged to one specific culture -- they were destined to be "forever foreign," and I feel I understand that to some degree.
For example, I went to Japan recently and everyone talked to me in Japanese. All I could do was nod and smile. At the same time, it was really interesting to be embraced into a culture immediately because of the way I looked.
When my brothers and I get together, we'll sometimes chat about what we've been mistaken for. I've gotten Filipino and First Nations, while my brother says he passed for Hispanic and Hawaiian. It's always funny negotiating those things, and at the same time feeling and thinking like any other Canadian.
Q What do you like about working in ceramics, rather than drawing or painting?
A I like that ceramics has a kind of backdoor entry into people's lives. We're all familiar with these objects -- we've all used a coffee mug or a plate or whatever. But no one ever brings a painting up to their mouth. No one even holds a painting -- let alone a bronze sculpture -- in their hands that way. So there's an intimacy about it.
Image of one of Brendan Tang's works from One Inch Punch; more on Tang's website
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Snake Eyes: Could our Vision and Art Be Shaped by Serpents?
OK, so the above headline may be one of my most ridonkulous ever. But hear me out...
I've really been enjoying some of the criticism in the Atlantic lately. A couple of articles of note from the recent issue -- a look back at Walker Evans' work in the south and an analysis of Nurse Jackie-type dramas -- are up online for the reading.
But what really got me this issue was a short, glowing review of The Fruit, the Tree, and the Serpent: Why We See So Well , a book by California anthropologist Lynne Isbell. In what sounds like a fascinating train of thought, Isbell attempts to prove that primate (and therefore human) ways of seeing developed in response to the survival threat posed specifically by snakes. Even some vital basics of our communication skills, Isbell argues, were designed to give us an edge over cobras, rattlesnakes and the like.
Isbell doesn't, I think, extend her theory to include art—admittedly, it's a stretch. But it's interesting to ponder how snakes may have affected, by extension, the kind of art we see and how we see it. Could Bridget Riley's career, for existence, have existed sans boa constrictors? It's worth a think.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Art for a Good Cause: C Magazine Fundraiser March 23
When I first came to Toronto in 2004, the folks at C Magazine were nice enough to give me an opportunity to try my hand at ad sales (at which I sucked, but by which I became extremely educated about how awesome and golden good ad sales people are) and magazine proofreading (at which I did a bit better, but which somehow doesn't seem as awesome). I also got to write some articles for C that I really enjoyed, like interviews with Noam Gonick, Ken Lum and Jerry Saltz, and reviews of interesting shows like the ICP's White.
Though I don't do much workwise with C anymore (unfortunately, they ain't the snappiest on the payment side—last time I checked in, 12 months post-publication was the cheque-receiving rule; hopefully it's improved?) I'm grateful for the opportunities they provide to developing writers and artists, as well as overlooked perspectives. I also think the somewhat recent redesign is pretty classy, and I'm encouraged to see the board undertaking more educational initiatives, like cschool, which I look forward to hearing more about. It seems like they're on an upward track. (Funny how that upward swing coincided with my total lack of involvement... hmmmm.... I think we're on to something here.)
It's all to say that it's worth taking note of C's upcoming fundraiser, a benefit auction taking place Tuesday, March 23 at Red Bull 381 Projects in Toronto. Works by Eve K. Tremblay, Maura Doyle, Kelly Jazvac, Charmaine Wheatley, Onya Hogan-Finlay, Melanie Authier and other interesting artists do make this one tempting. The online preview is up now, and a public preview happens March 20 from 1-4pm, if you're interested in seeing more so than buying.
More information on tickets ($40/$50) and other good stuff can be found at http://www.cmagazine.com/.
