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.
In the wake of current events such as the Harvey Weinstein debacle and the #metoo campaign I catch myself thinking about the progress that needs to be made. And as an artist I wonder – what is the role of art? To ensure the equal representation of women and all “others” as administrators and creators of art but also to provide – to guarantee – a setting free from prejudice, threat and harrassment. And what of artworks themselves – what are they saying?
In sports, many aspects of “maleness” are underpinned by “femaleness”. Some men acknowledge these underpinnings while others eschew them. I find it hard to ignore femininity in a world of spandex, padding, cups, straps, clips and girdles. In and of themselves these design “elements” are “neutral” – materials, shapes, degrees of rigidity, support, protection and wicking. Historically, these neutral design elements have been sexualized when it comes to men thinking about of women. However, it is anathema to most men to think of them as erotic when applied to other males, especially in the locker room. In the gay world all these suspensory elements are celebrated – exploited as “hyper-male”. Many a well-swung gay fantasy has rotated around the fulcrum of a jock strap.
How is it that we fetishize in both positive and negative ways inert elements attached to human bodies? Here, in this piece, the strange attractor of flower, as pansy, draws the inquisitive bee of attraction in, offers its stigma, styles and ovaries. And releases the bee to rejoin its community.
In the male sports world I wonder if misogyny, homophobia, transphobia and the failure of men to accept “feminine” attributes contributes to violence against others and shaming of the self. This art asks men to question their relationships with their “self” and the “feminine” in the arena of sport. This art invites men to comment – but they rarely ever do. This art invites men to consider the constraints they offer to their partners, their children, their communities when they see the world as narrowly defined. This art asks men to accept femininity, to revel in it, to champion it all of the petals that make up this flower. This art invites women to send it to men they know and ask them what they think of it.
How would men respond to a world where art invited them to be more open minded? These pansies are comprised of jock strap cups and hockey girdle straps and clips. A pair, in black and white, would look great above your bed or in your living room where guests might comment. Erotic art that honours the continuum, not just the poles. Can anyone have a convincing and comprehensive strength if they cannot accept and appreciate the full spectrum of gender expression, of masculine and feminine, of weak and strong?
A gift of flowers is always appropriate, I offer these pansies to jocks and invite you to offer them too, in any form of your making.
I was so very pleased that “Pansy For Jocks 1” was selected by jury to auctioned off on March 30, 2017, in support of the Aids Committee of Toronto. You can read about ACT and the amazing work they do here: http://www.actoronto.org/.
“Pansy for Jocks 3” will be auctioned off on March 22, 2018 for the same amazing ACT-SNAP event! This work was awarded one of 5 prestigious Awards of Merit by the Jury, who reviewed the works anonymously. The prize includes $500 and a ticket to the Gala Auction evening. The jury for 2018 included:
Cheryl Powers – Photographic Artist (Chair)
Chantal Stepa – Co-Chair
Jeannie Baxter – Managing Director, Toronto Image Works
Aidan Cowling – Photographic Artist and Head of Communications & Development, Gallery 44
Erika DeFreitas – Multidisciplinary Artist
Kevin Kelly – Commercial and Art Photographer
Patrick Lightheart – Designer and Artist
SNAP! 2018 is a Contemporary Photo Competition. A juried competition for all photographers, there are cash prizes for top entries. Selected images will be included in the SNAP! 2018 silent auction, part of Toronto’s most exciting gala celebrating contemporary art photography. This year’s gala takes place March 22, 2018, at the Bram + Bluma Appel Salon at the Metro Toronto Reference LIbrary, you can read about this venue here: http://salonrentals.torontopubliclibrary.ca/about-the-refe…/
There is a PREVIEW night for the Curatorial Collection of photorgaphs as well as those photorgaphs receivign Awards of Merit. The preview runs March 8, 9, 10, at Robert Birch Gallery in Toronto, more info here: http://birchcontemporary.com/
Please share this post if you have a moment to support this critical agency. ACT provides support services that empower men, women and young people living with HIV to achieve self-determination, informed decision-making, independence, and overall well-being. ACT does this through programs such as counselling, information provision, social support activities and programs that help people with HIV return to work.
“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.
For just a brief moment my body, suspended mid-leap, is doubled, my reflection in the stream’s surface a fleeting portrait of a teenaged boy trapped between the blues of sky and water. I am fleet-footed at this age, able to bound from boulder to boulder, curious about the matted bundles of driftwood, the truncated forest edges, the suspended log pathways, the coursing water both hidden and in plain sight. I feel a part of nature, a creature sensing its way along a watercourse.
The stream connects me to life – a wren nest wedged where deadfall branches interlace, robust pungent moss pressed under my palms, smoothed stones, crunching sorted gravel and sand. As if a paintbrush has been flicked, a spatter of dark olive streaks dart to where my amphibious scuffing of rocks has dislodged algae. The small green cloud drifts, all pattern, change and sustenance.
Shoulder to shoulder bleached granite sentries create a jumbled causeway of exits and impasses. I am humbled by their smoothness, their completeness, the ease of their weighted, shouldering postures, so separate from the stuff of water and so inseparable from the idea of stream. The light is emanating around me, floating above the gravel beds, glancing back from every riffle, splashing back at the world in radiating rings, mixing with the dappled streambank shade. The world, in flux, hovers between abstract and real.
Years later, far from any stream, but not so far from the Hudson River, I am standing in the Whitney Museum in New York City looking at the delightful paintings of Charles Burchfield. The show, aptly titled “Heat Waves in a Swamp: The Paintings of Charles Burchfield” is mostly watercolours. Many of them have been painted as if elements within the painting are vibrating, and the overall effect of the brushstrokes is one of a charged atmosphere. Here are my “emanations”.
Charles Burchfield’s emanations captured sound, light and the ephemerality of nature. His watercolour painting “Autumnal Fantasy” (1916-44), seems to be alive with calls of nuthatches, while the pounding light of the sun passes in crescents through the woodland clearing and between the trees. Even the holes in tree trunks seem to emote. The very substance of nature hangs precariously on the page, waiting for entropy and the eye to force their way between the vestiges of substance. Guy Davenport, writing in “Charles Burchfield’s Seasons”, suggests that “The step from Van Gogh to Willem de Kooning is a short one… that Burchfield… took in his own way, into an idiomatic calligraphy of his own devising, a sign language for radiant light, for wind, for insect song, for emanations”. Expressionistic in his treatment of light, Burchfield’s works is often described as mystical and visionary. His paintings leave me with the feeling that he is able to see a nature more alive than nature. Though he has not received as much attention as many other American painters it is worth noting that Burchfield had the distinction of being the first person to receive a one-person exhibition at the newly opened Museum of Modern Art in New York City, in 1930.
Similarly, Emily Carr’s emanations are rooted in the mystical. While Burchfield’s emanations were more discrete and identifiable, Carr’s merged in large swooping streams of colour that radiate from nature or course through the air, becoming a vital plasm in which all things are immersed. In “Edge of the Forest” (1935), the central tree seems to be the source of an emanating aura which fills the sky. In “Juice of Life” (1939) and “Blue Sky” (1936) all of nature moves together, a synchronous coalescing flow within the universe. Carr’s exposure to Christianity, particularly her upbringing with Calvinism, her experimentation with theosophy, her later reading of The Sadhu written by B. H. Streeter (about a Christian mystic from Punjab named Sadhu Sunder Singh), ultimately become layered in her approach to painting – an approach that uses radiating or coursing illumination to depict an ecstatic source of enlightenment. In Carr’s representations of nature we find a form of reconciliation, a pronouncement of the world at peace, often with a sense of calm, harmony, or joy – akin to the experience of a soul in union with a higher power.
The emanations we perceive on the painted surface have their own language – waves, and crescents bordering on calligraphy, text, letters. What gets transmitted in a symbol? What gets lost? As the meanings behind symbols change how does this affect our interpretatio of what we perceive? Think about the #/number sign and its migration to #/hashtag or the changeful life of the “@” symbol.
The painting of emanations draws our attention to nature and then beyond nature, to the unknown and unseen. Life, as if subatomic, both light particle and wave, illustrating the engine, the power, the mystery that drives it all.
By dwelling on the ephemerality that Burchfield so boldly pronounced we are able to inhabit that “soft focus” moment of being dazzled and at peace with nature. However, unlike Carr’s mystical harmony these works present a pulling apart, a disassembly, through the use of a fractured and changeful whole. The viewer must work, engaging the parts and using energy to assemble the whole – an ecological act in itself.
Seen from the sky, the rectangular shape of Central Park in New York City looks like one big nature painting. Central Park functions like a nature painting too. Or, more accurately, both the park and the nature painting borrow from the same body of research. This research has demonstrated, over and over again, that people are restored by experiences of nature – whether real or virtual.
So here is an invitation. Today when you go home, take a tour with a question in mind: How do the walls that surround me affect me? And if I can’t get to the park, is there any kind of facsimile role for depictions of nature?
The research on this subject is expansive and, quite frankly, breathtaking in its implications. Nature can dampen road rage, nature can boost the spirits, nature can improve attention capacity.
Have a crabby friend? Get them out of doors AND get them art that they can escape into. A 2002 study lead by Andrea Taylor and her team found that people with “greener views”scored higher on tests of concentration, inhibited impulsivity, and ability to delay gratification. Want a more peaceful domestic life? Think green, think scene. Think park visits, think art that depicts nature.
There is likely another rectangular painting-like entity in your life that competes for your attention, the television. Generally, it doesn’t compare, unless you’re looking at scenes of nature and looking at such scenes produces an intermediary result – somewhere between a blank wall and a view out of a window. The medium is the message. Research indicates that when views are NOT of nature the television actually prevents you from engaging in reflection – something the world is sorely in need of these days. Art can fix that! By the way people who have a television in their bedroom have 50% less sex than those that don’t!
So, let’s recap! No blank walls. Get Art!
If you can’t get outdoors, Get Art.
If you get art, art that depicts nature is a good decision.
People often want to know how a piece of art comes into being. For me, there are often some very disparate threads that seem to get tangled (not woven), resulting in intersections, real or virtual places where things meet/collide/bind/interface. Here, for example, are some threads:
Bacon’s “Three Studies for Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion” 1944 has always galvanized me. Notice how the title refers to “a” crucifixion and not “the” crucifixion. While our attention is directed to the three figures the focus (the crucifixion) is off-stage. You can see this triptych HERE , scroll down to second image.
Note the gaping maw in the panel to the far right. Bacon was intrigued by the mouth, its colours, textures and diseases. He often painted a mouth frozen in a silent scream. Bacon felt the perfect scream could be found in the Odessa Steps scene in the movie “The Battleship Potemkin” by Eisenstein. I was always intrigued by the fact that Bacon’s mouths were open at almost 90 degrees. I used that hinge point not to articulate a mouth but the entire head.
In some of his work, Branco, from Portugal, contemplates “The Silence of Animals”. I just saw some of his work in Paris. The works I saw in Paris, depicted baboons in domestic interiors such as libraries and dining halls. The baboon I recall most clearly was looking to the viewers left and the head was framed in isolation, the gaze offscreen. You can see his work HERE.
The Netherlands and Van Gogh
I spent some time at the Van Gogh Museum when I was in The Netherlands a month ago. Van Gogh’s colours seem implausible at moments, and the brush strokes completely identifiable, and yet the whole subsumes you. His biography “Vincent Van Gogh: The Life” is almost traumatizing in effect – his life a continual state of unrest and bitterness, one long, slow descent into mental illness. Reading the biography made Van Gogh newly foreign to me. His life seemed one long scream, or cry for a form of help he couldn’t identify. He too was always looking off-stage, seeking a goal that no one else could see, living a life of black and white, using colour only at the end. I picture a snowstorm of colour falling gently around his stark life while he screams at the sky with only one eye open.
An open call for an art show
Propeller gallery has recently invited artists to participate in “Through the Looking Glass: In Search for Identity” a juried exhibition presented as part of 2016 Nuit Rose festival in Toronto. You can read more about Propeller HERE, and Nuit Rose HERE. The following is part of Propeller’s call for artists:
“The main theme for Nuit Rose 2016 is NIGHT SHIFT, as such the exhibition at Propeller will explore themes surrounding Alice in Wonderland as a metaphor of shift, transformation and search for identity. Tim Burton recently described Wonderland as a place where “everything is slightly off, even the good people.” Alice is not just trying to figure out Wonderland, but also attempting to determine who she is and what constitutes her identity in a world that actively challenges her perspective and sense of self. She rightly understands that her self perception cannot remain fixed in a world that has drastically different rules from her own. Since Wonderland is a by-product of her own imagination, it becomes clear that it is Alice’s identity and not Wonderland itself that is being called into question. Her quest to understand Wonderland becomes a quest to understand the forces and feelings that comprise her identity.”
What are The Odds?
This triptych uses a confection of colour and form to draw people in. Intentionally strange, initial assumptions related to portraiture begin to falter. The identities of these beings is unclear, and thus the potential to see our selves or others in the work is challenged. At the same time we attempt to build a narrative. There is similarity in form, composition and the direction and intensity of the gaze. These beings appear to be occupying the same place at the same time – however unrecognizable their world is. What are the rules in this strange place? How might entering this strange “other-world” shape our self-identities? Much like the tangled threads in a work of art, as we assemble meaning in this strange new world, do we re-assemble our selves?