In Ontario, Canada, the introduction of a new sexual education curriculum has caused considerable controversy. You can find recent news coverage regarding this issue HERE and HERE.
This art installation by Canadian artist Dan Nuttall intervenes by holding a mirror up to this controversy. On top of the desk sit “bivalves” on a silver serving tray. The bivalves, made of cast concrete, have shells cast from twinned jockstrap cups. Inside the shadowed wood school desk interior, but visible to the observer, sits a shucking knife. The knife sits on top of overlapping “graffiti” – statements made by those who oppose the new sexual education curriculum.
You can read statements by those who oppose this new curriculum HERE.
The desk and its contents sit in dialogue with a large, offset rectangle on a nearby wall – a chalkboard.
This work was exhibited at Roadside Attractions in Toronto, Ontario in the Fall of 2017 from August 2 to September 13. Roadside Attractions, a long-standing art venue in Toronto, no longer exists, though there are plans to mount this installation elsewhere. If you are interested in exhibiting or purchasing this art installation you can contact the artist.
“The reek of human blood smiles out at me” Aeschylus
A recent call for submissions put forward by Propeller Gallery in Toronto asked artists to contemplate the colour red. Timed to open on Valentine’s Day the show, titled “Red Impulse” (February 14 – March 4, 2018), left the door wide open for interpretation, the call for submission noting that red could be… “…crimson, vermilion and scarlet, the colour of extremes, communism, liberalism, powerful, violent and bloody, love and passion, fast, STOP, sweet, hot and spicy, bold, bashful, the SUN, cautious and above all…impulse”. In this blog I’m taking an inventory of sorts – a walk through the reds of memory lane.
I have always equated intense oranges and reds with the paintings of Francis Bacon and the ability of his work to act “…directly [upon] the nervous system”, to “open up the valves of sensation”. Red activates, stimulates, is a diving board. Painting happens mid-air.
Red can be sinister or macabre, alluding to events that have never happened. Or might.
Red can float, be vaporous, toxic and tremulous. Red can discharge.
Red can signal, exclaim, pronounce and pounce. Red can pull us off course.
Red can dazzle, dance, trick. Red can lure, vanish and sneak up behind us.
Red can be adjacent, sitting next to bone, skin and scrapes.
Red can be political, isolating, terse and playful.
Red can be remote, automatic, whirring and mindless. Red can be a button.
Both War Machine 3 and 4 above are currently available and are framed. You can see more of my work HERE.
You can find out more about Propeller Gallery’s RED IMPULSE show in Toronto, February 14 – March 4, 2018, HERE.
OPENING RECEPTION at Propeller Gallery is Thursday, February 15th, 6:30-9:30.
War Machine 4, above, will be on exhibit as part of the RED IMPULSE group show at Propeller Gallery so please drop by and see this painting as well as the diverse takes on this stimulating theme by an incredibly accomplished group of artists. The Drake Hotel is nearby as are many other Queen Street West venues so you can make a night of it.
I have recently finished reading Elena Ferrante’s “Neapolitan Quartet” – which I thought was brilliant. As I progressed through the four novel set, which makes for a great summer read, I continually felt that I was experiencing the streets, the open windows, the smells of food, days at the beach, cramped apartments, gatherings and other interactions between the characters. Taking a step back I was intrigued at how something as simple as “text” – strings of symbols, concatenated or spaced – could conjure a fully fleshed out albeit imaginary world. The act of reading Ferrante created a flow; text became images, a fabric of sorts was sewn and stretched across my imagination. I was delighted to find out that the Latin for “fabric” is textum. Texts can create paintings.
The opposite, of course, can occur. We can look at a painting or work of art and “read” it, creating a “text” of sorts. Symbols, signs, colour, forms and other stimuli create associations and messages that reach out to confront our gaze. Sometimes the story is robust and coherent and other times it is a rough assemblage of ideas, sometimes more like sentences, often just a few words or a notion. Sometimes art presents us with a blank page and it remains unwritten, unread.
The National Gallery in London breaks down the process of reading paintings as follows:
“Reading a painting is similar to reading a book:
The reader decodes symbols to establish meaning
The reader uses inference and deduction (e.g. body language) to deepen understanding
A reader’s previous knowledge and experience affects their personal response”
Memory of course plays a role, intimately tied to experience, and our reading of a painting’s text ends up being diagnostic – speaking about who we are, what some of our experiences have been, what our “world views” may be.
My first solo show at Lee Contemporary Art, in Orillia, this summer, is a retrospective of sorts, a chance to look back in time and allow viewers to read multiple texts at the same time. Or, in other words, to glance at a group of paintings or texts and ask : Is there an overarching or meta-narrative? What are the common themes?
Of course, telling someone abut a book or a painting is often both a dull and corrupting process. And yet people who visit galleries often want to know “What does this picture mean?”, “What was the artist thinking or trying to achieve?”. So, to accompany this exhibition I thought perhaps a balanced approach might work – I would say something minimal about these works – perhaps just words even, and allow the reader and/or viewer to assemble the text. These words are beneath each of the paintings above, and are intended to provide points of reflection, threads form which larger stories may be woven. These paintings, and others, will be included in “Landscapes : Reading and Memory”.
These paintings serve as a gathering of texts. From such gatherings a library of sorts arises, an edifice that is created by both the artist and those that gaze upon art. A place where both can dwell.
Please feel free to comment or to get in touch with me regarding this post. My exhibition information is as follows: