The Artword

Varley

2012-02-02T12:13:00.000-08:00

This afternoon

So on this spring day in January I wandered into AGO, not to see anything in particular, but just to wander aimlessly. I found myself oddly enough amongst all things Canadian. Blown away as usual by a piece by Paterson Ewen who inspired me to take up the router in my own work, I came across a piece of nostalgia. A rather large piece by Fred Varley, a member of our own Group of 7 titled Liberation. One might see it as a ghostly representation of the resurrection of Jesus Christ, I see it as a resurrection for all. My nostalgia comes from spending countless hours sitting in front of this painting when it was in it's own alcove back in the 1970's. It moved me then and it moved me today...

http://www.naturesscene.com/artdetails.aspx?source=reg&page=1&artID=2184

Birdland 8

2011-10-26T10:23:00.000-07:00

Birdland 8, Latex House Paint On Raw Canvas, 48" x 36", 2011

In the night
The hunt is on...

Christian McLeod

2011-10-07T11:46:00.000-07:00

Queen St. W. a sunny autumn afternoon. This is Toronto's art scene, or at least it use to be. Though I still want my thirst for art to be slaked. After much head scratching I turned a corner on a street I knew at least had a number of bars to choose from, so if nothing else another kind of thirst could be fulfilled. Ossington Ave., another street wanting to be a destination for the art starved.Walking aimlessly I came to a curious door propped open, but not completely. My curiosity mounting I dared to stick my head in only to have my jaw drop at the sight of a few large abstract canvases leaning against the wall, and a young man who welcomed me to enter. After introductions, his name is Christian Mcleod, we started chatting about his work. large and bold almost landscapes. One really caught my eye with reminiscence of my youth. Grasses peering through the first snow, upon first glance. Further I looked and further I remembered. The white isn't snow, but in my childhood eyes it was water, and the grasses the grasses peering through in the shallows by the cattails of my fishing with my Father days. Where the big one always evaded our alluring lures. Then there were others, abstract visions of lands I know in my minds eye.

Though besides his art making something else came to my memory. At an age when I saw nothing but a future of living in my studio making art and galleries banging at my door there was no "scene" in hogtown. I remember the Issacs gallery and a few others, all with established stables. There was no Now magazine or Slate art guide. The internet? Queen St. West was populated with hookers and seedy bars. Yorkville was reeling from the exodus of the hippies and didn't quite yet know what it wanted to be. So here is this young fellow working away at wonderful work, and I am sure, not having it all that easy, but yet there he is working away, and I wish him all the best.

http://www.christianmcleod.com/

Birdland 4

2011-09-20T13:56:00.000-07:00

Direct flight
No boarding pass required

Condoronto

2011-09-10T16:02:00.000-07:00

In the dieing days of summer I have found myself walking my old exhibiting haunts of Queen St. W. to find it's gone. What once was a thriving and fruitful scene is now all but abandoned. Even the existing galleries have nothing that is moving forward. Why? The scene is scattered. Why? Condoronto is settling in en mass. Divide and conquer. Thank you Ford bros. You got the the dough do as you will. For a culture to move forward like a military unit it requires unison. The present political cloud that hangs over us is dark and oppressive. We need cultural communities much like SOHO, DUMBO, or Chelsea in NYC. For one it offers an environment that is simply easier to navigate. Potential art buyers can easily walk from gallery to gallery and enjoy a good coffee in between. Now one has to drive from a small cluster of galleries to another. Besides Queen west there use to be Yorkville, again a corpse in the dust of Condoronto. You might argue that the distillery district has replaced the other previous communities. No!! It is a self contained community, yes but it is just one and a very high end one at that. Nothing wrong there, but other self contained communities are needed for the visual and new media arts to flourish and make us a world class city that recognizes the value that unified communities offer all of us. What to do? Good question. Rail against Condoronto? Good luck.

Birdland 3

2011-08-31T11:25:00.000-07:00

Birdland 3

With my wings of mystic flight I will guide you to the light...

Birdland 2

2011-08-23T11:17:00.000-07:00

Birdland 2

Pecking away for another day's life

Birdland 1

2011-08-23T11:11:00.000-07:00

Birdland 1

Imploring for a mothers' love and sustenance....I implore you

X Marks The Spots

2011-08-18T13:44:00.000-07:00

In a land scarred by desire the marks are indelible.

A Hard Rain Has Fallen

2011-08-18T13:37:00.000-07:00

A Hard Rain Has Fallen

It falls like a storm in sheets of brown rain covering our minds with the weight of a world come undone torn at the very seems it guts spued all over the greed of capitalism gone mad with greed avarice and hubris......

Classes

2011-08-09T10:18:00.000-07:00

Wilderness Without Empire

I will be offering visual arts classes for adults in my west end Toronto studio. The classes will be focused on all levels of ability. Simply e mail me at lokart@sympatico.ca and let's start making art.
http://www.kurtscanadianart.com

The Good, and the well? Not so good

2011-07-30T11:55:00.001-07:00

So I chanced into my second adventure with the AGO'S presentation of MOMA'S ABEX collection. For some reason my feelings have not changed. Before I rant on about the work that both moved me and made me feel completely inadequate as an Artist, after my first visit I wanted to go home and burn my brushes , I would like to discuss the two items in the exhibit that I found missing appropriate treatment.
When an opportunity comes to ones' mind and eye to present to the community a collection of Art that is as poignantly definitive of a place and time such as post war America, one must consider every detail with the eye of the Artists themselves. There is a heavy handed ego in place if this process is not given the sensitivity so deserving.
I handed over my ticket to the young lady standing guard over the gates to heaven, and found purgatory. The first room that presents the works of Arshile Gorky and Adolph Gottlieb is not a room but a corridor. The first time I visited the exhibit was on a Sunday, the galleries were packed with wanting eyes. This corridor was like negotiating an urban highway during rush hour. Lots of bumping, very little seeing. The second time I went was on a Tuesday, the population was moderate. yet still I could not give the work the view both it and I deserved.
Let's move on to the second room. If one wants to enjoy the large and exciting works of De Kooning in the comfort of their living room then this room was perfect although missing the divan and fireplace.
Those are the only censures I have of this otherwise bravado exhibit.
I could rant on and on about the work, but I'll let you make up your own mind on that account. Although I was taken rather strongly by the Franz Kline works.

There's Art In My Garden

2011-05-29T13:57:00.000-07:00

"There's Art In My Garden" is an annual exhibit featuring both older and newer works in the tranquility of my urban garden.

The Bather

2011-04-03T15:04:00.000-07:00

The Bather, Oil On Routered Plywood, 36" x 48" 2011

So there she sits
A hummingbird hums
It doesn't know the words
The lush life grows
Coltrane blows a sad lament
The world is not as it seems
So she cleanses
And the river
And the river
And the river.....

Joy Walker at MKG Gallery

2011-04-03T08:03:00.000-07:00

One has few opportunities in this frenzied world to experience serenity, walking into Joy Walker's world is one of them. This kind of meditative expression comes from a being here and now experience. Images such as are displayed in Ms. Walkers "Chanced " exhibit come from an immediate reflection, reminding me of a quote from Jack Kerouac, " First thought best thought...". Chewing for too long can only result in a muddied mess of confusion. The muted colours and faintly suggested shadows take me further into the meditation of relative reality verses ultimate reality, the reality of complete clarity as opposed to the frantic jumble of thoughts that race through the mind every moment of every day. Ms. Walkers images, (all of print process), cut through with definitive certainty. Her exhibit continues at MKG Gallery at 127 Ossington Ave, info@mkg127.com until April 16th.

JJ Lee at Loop Gallery

2011-01-24T12:33:00.000-08:00

The story of this exhibit is about a story, a story of collaboration between an Artist and an Author. Ms. Lee was asked to illustrate a childrens' book, to which she accepted with enthusiasm. The story is called The White Tortoise of Ch'u. I won't give away the narrative, only to say it is certainly a story I would have read to my daughter when she was a child.
I found myself making up my own story as I walked through the exhibit. JJ's adept and childlike imagery makes it very readable. The Tortoise as in any myth is presented with several obstacles of evil to overcome, and is in the end successful in doing good and is rewarded with the knowledge of it's good deed.
The technique she uses is not the slick dineyesque imagery that seems to be often utilized in a child's story. Her approach comes from the subconscious using layers of transparent paint, ink drawing and collage, which adds a depth not usually seen in a bed time story book, and maintaining a dream like quality.
There are some of the works that really stand out for me, and do work individually. I would though find it hard to steal a part of the story and leave a piece missing from the tale, which just might make for another story itself.

Madame Morphine

2010-12-17T09:06:00.000-08:00

This is the second piece in a new series called In The Garden Of... It is rather new for me in that I am not just digging into the plywood with my router but I am also adding to the surface. The figure is water colour on 300lb water colour paper. Again it is on the larger side at 36" x 48"

Pat Dumas - Hudecki

2010-06-25T07:45:00.000-07:00

PAT DUMAS-HUDECKI

Bearing Witness: Totems Of Communication, Propeller Centre For The Visual Arts

There are many visual objects in our daily lives that simply blend in to the background without jolting our consciousness at all. It is one of these objects that are so adeptly expressed in this exhibit. The hydro pole, not the newer very slick concrete poles that are now used, but the old wooden poles of days gone by. You know, the poles that still occupy much of the urban landscape, often plastered with announcement bills stapled to their coarsely hewn skins. In fact it is the random peppering of these staples that occupies much of the aesthetic of Pat's tableaus. She uses a mixed media photo process which lends itself well to her subject matter.With a little tongue in cheek she has taken the poles out of the urban setting and placed them in Group Of 7 and Emily Carr settings. Her pictorial representations show them not only as a functioning hanger to carry electricity, but also as a place of rest for natural phenomena, birds, snow and ice. She depicts them as objects of romantic beauty standing stoically in the softness of a moonlit evening. What really steals the show though is an actual, cleverly placed, section of one of these totems to urban function.

Catch The Bop Trane

2010-04-14T15:57:00.000-07:00

Catch The Bop Trane, Mixed Media On Paper, 24" x 36", 2010

Coltrane's melody takes me on a magical Trane to the back of my mind....

Henna Kim

2010-03-29T13:25:00.001-07:00

Henna Kim

The microcosm of things have always intrigued me, and that's what is envisioned in the works of this Artist. That close examination of things to a point where they are no longer forms but dots of colour and light. These representations of things as they are bring to mind the later works of Monet. His broken vision of his garden in Giverney.

Henna works in layers and not just with the paint but in the very birth of her process. She starts with these preassembled frames of plywood on a wood frame. Then she laminates it with Korean paper. If it is anything like Japanese Washi paper I know how delicate a surface she is working with, having recently experimented with Washi myself. Of course then the painting begins deftly applied in layers of pure light. This si where I believe Georges Surat did not complete his process as he mathematically arranged dots in juxtaposition to each other to create an illusion. There is no illusion here the dots are layered as one would actually see splashes of light on the surface of the water right at ones feet.

This exhibit was at AWOL at 78 Ossington Ave.

Archlinear - 1

2010-03-15T12:29:00.000-07:00

Archilinear - 1
Mixed Media On Paper
24" x 36"

Taking a line through the built space...

2010-03-08T05:17:00.000-08:00

Merry - Time
Oil On Routered Plywood
48" x 48"
2010

East coast turbulent sea...resting Puffin ...

Francois X Chamberlain

2010-03-06T07:59:00.000-08:00

Francois X Chamberlain
Propeller Centre For the Arts

There is something very refreshing about sifting through the work of our senior statesmen. Francois comes to us from La belle Province and born in 1931. The walls of the north gallery are adorned or should I say ladened with his metal constructions. Formed perhaps like collage, I really would prefer to refer to them as rusted paintings. He has indeed built these hanging compositions from found metal junk, but at the same time they feel very painterly. As perhaps Riopelle would have built up layers of paint in formless abstraction, Francois has given abstract form to objects that his keen eye has culled from objects rejected by a society tired of them. It is not a new tool he has employed, as found object as artefact hails back to the early modernists. He has made it fresh and new. Nothing that he has done is at all trite or folksy.
He has taken modernist values and placed them boldly into the palette of the post modernist, a no holds barred non movement. His cubist/minimalist approach to arranging objects on the plane could very well be an early painting by Braque or Picasso. What I find most endearing is the warmth of his palette. He had very generously explained how one of the pieces was about the sinking of Catherine's naval pride the Potemkin . All the while I'm looking at a very carefully arranged composition that drew me into a flattened cubist winter scene, but I felt warmed by the fire of an Artist.

Kristina Jurjans

2010-01-24T13:11:00.001-08:00

Kristina Jurjans

I spent the day, a rather blustery and cold one, gallery hopping along Queen St. West with one disappointment after another. Everything I saw held a pretension towards style. There seems to be a move towards cartoonish depictions of childlike darkness. I was about to give up when I decided I need a coffee, so I trudged into the Great Hall Cafe & Gallery. In the gallery room there was an exhibit of photo based work that intrigued me, but still it was not enough to take out my pen. So into the cafe, and there it was the only work I saw that had a from the gut honesty about it.

Here was a collection of figurative based mixed media Drawing/Painting, Collages. I found myself looking at each piece with the same eyes, but each struck me differently. I asked the young lady serving behind the counter if she knew anything about the work to find she is also the Artist. So out came the camera and my pen.

There are 2 distinct bodies of work in the show, one smaller the other larger pieces on canvas. It was those that really caught my mind. Upon inquiring I found out she draws the figures with charcoal on vellum, adheres them to them to the canvas then works over them with ink and acrylic paint.

The figures are disjointed and posed as though executed as surgical illustrations. Though there is an ephemeral nature that causes me to ponder about the connection of these disjointed poses with choices between mind and body. The relationship is clear. They can be united in cause but disjointed in effect. Cause and effect, motion and stillness, action and thought.

Katrina seems to be on the path of solution, and has just begun asking the questions. With one year of OCAD behind her these drawings have a maturity beyond her years.

Pet Peeve

2010-01-19T12:27:00.000-08:00

I have been ruminating on this topic for sometime, and what has prevented me from broaching the topic is not my continued interest, but how to approach it without shooting myself in the foot. As an Artist myself who enjoys a reputation for continually exhibiting, there are gallery owners who may find my criticisms somewhat objectionable.

Once upon a time a gallery owner/art dealer would take responsibility for representing their Artists both on the wall and off. They were business people who would take a keen interest in which Artists they would take under there wing. Once you were selected there would be a contract settled on which would allow the gallery to take a commission on sales. However the relationship wouldn’t just end there. The Artist and the dealer had a close relationship which would include studio visits to discuss the direction of new work. The dealer had a clientele whom would also be included in the dealer’s regular business and social circles. Yes once upon a time gallery owners actually worked for the Artist because they were motivated by the commission arrangement.

Well folks things have changed. Now galleries are walls that we rent. There is at times more to it than just that, but more often than not what you get for what is often more than $1,000.00/week are the walls, and an ad in one or more free local tabloids next to the escort ads. They may even send out emails to their contact list. It is with regret that I inform you – that is where the relationship ends. Almost never will you get a prepaid reception. Never expect them to market you beyond your exhibit. If you want any marketing done over and above it is on your tab, invite cards included. Unless the Artist is actually sitting the exhibit it is rare that whoever is attending will even feign interest in potential purchasers who walk in the door. There are also a number of other trivial matters that I think go to a lack of professional standards, but I won’t rant forever.

In conclusion I think that we as Artist have got too either bite the bullet and learn how to be our own marketing agents, or start making the gallery owners aware that our interest in exhibiting is an extension of our career as Artists, and to that end gallery owners should start taking more responsibility for marketing the Art on the walls.

Celebration

2010-01-01T10:35:00.000-08:00

Amongst the vines and the pond the party continues....

Yes In The West

2009-12-12T16:19:00.000-08:00

She returns to her place of birth....gives birth and enters into nirvana...and the circle continues...

Oil On Plywood
48" x 48"
2009

Algonquin Dream

2009-11-01T15:21:00.000-08:00

It sits on the land..having dreamt on dark waves....

Algonquin Dream
Oil On Plywood (with routered details)
48" x 48"
2009

2009-09-10T15:43:00.000-07:00

Tom Ngo
Invalids
Lennox Contemporary Gallery

I've considered the show's title "INVALIDS " suggesting something broken, somehow dysfunctional, and yes Tom has presented us with images of post modernist machinations that have no obvious function, and as machines or structures couldn't possibly work. Tom also suggests that his vision is somehow rooted in absurdity and humour. I can see how he has had a good chuckle either with or at the Bauhaus. Yet all this said I would say that these are rather serious almost cynical images that portray post modernism as it actually is. Tom has reassured me that all things architectural are doomed to suffer their own trade of vision for lust. As absurd and unworkable as these images seem to be I see them wherever urban society thrusts itself forward into a world of mine is bigger and better than yours. An urban world where the banality of mushrooming condos glorify the vision of architectural absurdity. They don't F%#@**ng work.
Trained as an Architect Mr. Ngo has slyly used gypsum board, drywall to the rest of us, and old faded drafting paper as his backdrop. This pleases me to no end. Being a painter and lifelong construction worker I love to see common construction materials used to defy the insistence of the academic world of art making to be relegated to the same old same old. His obvious skill as a draftsman shows through with his confident line and bold geometry. These drawings resonate with an exacting mathematical relationship with we mere mortals that live and work within. His colours are on the soft side but never invisible. Balance after all is the rigueur.
Tom Ngo's vision of our invalid world is on the walls of the Lennox Contemporary Gallery, 12 Ossington Ave. Toronto, 416-924-7964 from Sept. 3rd - 20th.

Arctic Lament

2009-08-16T07:14:00.000-07:00

Sadly it melts into memory...

Arctic Lament
Oil On Plywood
4' x 4'
2009

Prairie Possibility

2009-08-16T07:12:00.000-07:00

It stands stoic...an icon in the prairie breeze...

Prairie Possibility
Oil On Plywood
4' x 4'
2009

New Abstracts

2009-07-21T12:42:00.000-07:00

Come one come all....

IV

2009-05-10T11:21:00.000-07:00

Michael Willems
IV
*New* Gallery

Michael Willems, Art Photographer, and Photo-Journalist spent one year documenting the lives of Kim and Robert. To look at this couple, at first glance, they seem to be a perfectly normal couple, albeit with significant age difference, he being several years older than her. Other than that nothing seems amiss, until you walk through one year of their lives as documented in this exhibit. You see they are both recovering junkies.
The most difficult part I have found about writing this article is to do so without going into the pathology of the subject matter. This after all is an Art exhibit, and I chose to view it as such. What Michael has done is created several images that when linked serve as a slow motion documentary. However each piece also stands alone. There are some of the images that if viewed without the overall context escapes the context, and are actually beautiful portraits of two beautiful people. As a matter of fact the one thing that initially disturbed me was that when I viewed each piece separately, I was not disturbed. Michael and I discussed this, and his take is that the exhibit shows that, even as junkies they are still complex humans, not just the emaciated lost in the world heaps of human excrement that we as a collective consciousness think of the addicted amongst us. Indeed there are moments of playfulness and child like abandonment portrayed in the individuals that they are. There is an image of Kim praying and I asked Michael with every bit of cynicism I could muster. "Is she really praying or is she posed?" To which he retorted that nothing was ever posed and he always had his camera at the ready. Are the images toyed with on a computer, again, no. Yet I still have to get through the beauty of these images. As a painter I saw many of them as Dutch masters, with soft endearing light. Never does Michael want you to fear his subjects, but to compassionately draw you into their world. One element I think would have added another dimension to the show would have been a spontaneous sound track, and not the 60's drug laments from the Artists' I-Pod. A little bit of their world recorded as they naturally dialogued day to day. All in all, an effective exhibit if you are not fooled by the beauty of it all.
*new* gallery
906 Queen Street West
Toronto, ON M6J 1G6
416-588-1200
Wed-Sun 1-6
info@new-gallery.ca

2009-04-25T06:50:00.000-07:00

ABC-Tree-123
Mixed Media On Paper
2009

Wisdom From A-Z

2009-04-19T06:24:00.000-07:00

Rob Croxford - 129 Ossington

Rob Croxfords' painted vignettes have 2 distinct facets to them the first being an overt call to nostalgia.
They hearken back to a simpler time of hand painted magazine ads, with images of model airplanes, zeppelins, and flying saucers, toys that a boy of post war America would lie awake at night dreaming of finding under the Christmas tree.
Other images are somewhat more sinister if you prescribe to being religously- politically correct. Images of women hanging the clothes out to dry while gossiping with Marge next door, or bent over the long gone ironing board putting a perfect crease on hubbies clothes.
Not enough though that Mr. Croxford has given us these ponderous images he has chosen to supply us with a written script to his musings on things of yore. Each image has a Title emblazoned as part of the painting, each starting with one of the A-Z of the alphabet, and at the bottom a single line of wisdom.
Each of these small paintings on canvas is skillfully depicted with scrapes and over washes giving them a patina of age. However as much as I don't mind work being exhibited unframed these paintings are sadly lacking that finished touch as the folded corners and edges of the canvas stretching leave a little something to be desired. All in all an exhibit that gives one cause to ponder.

2009-04-12T11:53:00.000-07:00

Black & Blue - ABC
Mixed Media On Paper
26" x 36"
2009

2009-04-03T11:32:00.000-07:00

A - 9 In Flight
Mixed Media On Paper
26" x 36"
2009

Into 1 - Z

2009-03-24T06:26:00.001-07:00

Into 1 - Z
Mixed Media On Paper
26" x 36"
2009

Love Poems

2009-03-20T10:09:00.000-07:00

Sogna Di Genova - Propeller Centre

Well again painting is saved. I always marvel at the resurrections of my beloved art form. It has been said by many on many an occasion that the form is in its' coffin, we only need to drive the last nail to end its' reign. This resurrection takes place in the form of a multi-media approach to the painted surface. Sogna deftly applies fabric to the surface in a way reminiscent of the collage of the early cubists, with pre-cut shapes applied to almost define form, but still let our eyes do the thinking.
This series of multimedia paintings utilizes the figurative form, yet what I really see is not much of a departure, actually a lineage from Ms. Di Genovas' previous painted abstracts. I actually have one, purchased a few years ago at Gallery 1313. It is pure abstraction but reminds me of aerial photography, as does the elements of paint and fabric collage she applies to this collection of figures.
Subjectively they appear as dream woven figures, slightly disembodied, with curious objects around them, light bulbs, feathers and others, and I wonder about their necessity to the composition. They seem at times to cause me to wonder more about the dream and less about the pure and simple beauty of the figures.
Her skill as a painter I believe has certainly matured with this series. In discussion with one of the friends of the gallery, we determined that like any genre of art it is crucial that a lineage is followed almost genetically, and it appears as though Sogna has achieved this with elements of last century's modernists. So bravo Sogna on moving the form forward with a subtle look back.
Propeller Centre for the Visual Arts tel:416.504.7142 www.propellerctr.com GALLERY HOURS: Wednesday - Saturday 12-6 pm Sunday 12-5 pm email: gallery@propellerctr.com

2009-03-17T17:20:00.000-07:00

1-2-3-A
Mixed Media On Paper
26" x 36"
2009

Alpha

2009-02-22T15:42:00.000-08:00

Alpha
Mixed Media On Paper
26" x 36"
2009

Betty Guggenheim An Homage

2009-02-22T08:30:00.000-08:00

Betty Guggenheim - An Homage

Gallery Out/Aut

Well it is finally complete, a one year effort of producing one painting every day in homage to the prolific art purchasing and collecting of Betty Guggenheim. Toronto Artist and gallery owner Ranko Pavic, took on this project and with persistent determination completed it, and has been exhibiting it in his St. Clair Ave. gallery in monthly instalments. The final installation , like all the others , does not disappoint.

Living in the neighbourhood of the gallery I tend to drop in with varying degrees of frequency to see the progress of Ranko's project, and with each viewing I find myself drawn to his sense of avant garde . First there is the paper on which he has chosen as his backdrop . The first time I saw it I was quite taken that he has seen a usefulness in this paper that would otherwise never have dawned on me. I have been using it for years in my construction day gig to cover and protect finished floor surfaces. So Ranko doesn't go to a hipper than thou art material outlet, but rather Home Depot for his paper which is available in 100' x 3' rolls for slightly more than $20. A true recession statement if I have ever seen one. It offers the Artist both a fragile and course surface to work on. I also have ventured into its' use.

Now the work itself. Cut into perfect squares Ranko sets up a series of repetitive form, then again applies a repetition of recognizable banner type forms . Almost flag or emblematic in their appearance each stand out as individual statements, but more importantly is the collective imagery that reflects a social democracy in the work. This series of 365 works is indeed a reflection of our own desire to exist as individuals within a society with a singular purpose. There is that constant struggle between the "I" and the "Us", that tries often in vain, but with increments of success at a mutual reconciliation.

Whenever I enter the gallery to view the latest instalment of the Homage, I find myself at peaceful odds with my own individual existence within the collective that exists mere feet from Ranko and I out on the bustling sidewalk as our fellow humans rush about expressing their own desire to survive on their own terms.

The final instalment will be on view until the first week of March when new projects by other Artists will come marching into the gallery Out/Aut. For those of you craving a taste of what I think is the only true avant garde space in this city, I would strongly advise a visit.

Gallery Out/Aut

1346/c St. Clair Ave.

Toronto ON

416-556-9117

galleryoutaut@sympatico.ca

2009-02-15T09:03:00.000-08:00

A-1-B-2
Mixed Media On Paper
26" x 36"
2009

Walking

2009-02-08T09:02:00.000-08:00

Cell Gallery
Nancy Oakes - Walking

For those of you unfamiliar with the cell gallery, it is actually a small room that is within Gallery 1313, and unlike it's cavernous big brother it allows the artist and the viewer a special intimacy with the work. Nancy Oakes has certainly put the space to good use.
Walking is a multi media exhibit that uses sound, drawing and written word as a palette. Even though three different experiences are available I never felt crowded or overwhelmed by it all. The subtle on the slushy street walking sounds, writings on the wall and small drawings, taken from a note pad, all play on each others' sparse intent.
First the sound, as it was what started the walking experience and no matter what else I was experiencing in the exhibit it was always there. Nancy had gone out on the urban winter street walking in the sloshing of slush carrying her trusty little digital recording device with her, picking up all the walking sounds of urbanites going about their daily lives, and even picking up snippets of conversations. She had cleverly mounted her device and a couple of small speakers on a shelf over the doorway , so, as you enter the room you don't see the source, it just becomes the narrator to walking.
Another clever tool Nancy uses is written word. She had invite people to write about their experiences with walking. She even got a response from a person who is wheelchair bound. She pinned all of these responses onto a wall all on their own. This really punctuated for me the 3 tiered procession of the exhibit .
The third tier of course being the visual. Before I discuss the actual pieces I would like to comment on how they were hung. It was indeed a pleasure to see someone take the time and effort to hang these pieces in a way that lead me to believe there really was no other way to hang the show. Each piece carefully placed with even spacing, level, and without the visual trickery of hanging them in some cryptic shape.
Each of these loose, gestural drawings of people walking contained an element of immediacy, as though a snapshot taken with stop time precision. Further to their immediate nature is the fact they were each done on small notepad paper that the artist could easily fit into a pocket. Taken out only at the right moment to capture the walk as it is that very second. Nancy also had over washed each drawing with tea to give them a sepia mist, and then froze them in time with wax.
Although I have separated each element of this exhibit for the purpose of this article, it really must be understood that each element of the walk are indeed like ingredients in a good soup and make a pleasing melange.

Wilderness

2009-02-07T10:20:00.000-08:00

Loop Gallery
Sung Ja Kim - Wilderness

This exquisite show of painted constructions was on exhibit at the Loop Gallery from January 10th until February 1st. I have had the opportunity to see an exhibit by Sung once before at The Loop gallery and I was as taken with that body of work as I am with this one.
Her use of natural and recycled materials evoke an almost meditative experience in viewing them. More often than not I find the danger of stepping out of the use of traditional materials is that the composition becomes "about" the material, and the viewer loses touch with the objective. Not so here, the finely tuned concert of raw materials mounted on or behind canvas compliment the overriding theme of spiritual growth through self exploration. Each piece in the show seems an open, almost surgical examination of the spiritual self(lessness) in the human psyche. One piece in particular stands out as exemplary to the rest of the exhibit. Alienation & Redemption is a large scale piece constructed of raw plywood as if torn from the junk of a construction site mounted behind again a very course canvas. Are we not all constructed in this rough form? It is through life's hills and valleys that we can get down to the work of alienating ourselves from that which truly obstructs our path to redemption. Ms. Kim gets to this message by opening herself up for us all to see.
The entire palette of this material is muted grey, white and earthen tones that keep the viewer grounded so as not to wander from the sudden, (satori), reality of our own redemption. It is hard to avoid that subtle sense of loss in this body of work. Whether it be through fading memory or that gut wrenching loss of our own selves in the mess of life she bares it all.
It is late January and winter is in the depths of its hold on us thus causing many of us to seek warmth and a shelter from it. I only hope that doesn't mean that too few came out to witness this exhibit and come to terms with their own redemption. This is indeed a show that merits maximum visibility. Kudos to Ms. Kim and Loop for offering us the chance to get out in the cold and bare witness to certainly what I think is going to be an exhibit to set the example for the year of the bull.

1-2-3-4

2009-02-01T12:44:00.001-08:00

1-2-3-4
Mixed Media On Paper
26" x 36"
2009

2009-01-10T11:12:00.000-08:00

The Poets' Shroud
Mixed Media On Paper
22" x 30"

Sunflower Satori

2008-12-25T09:57:00.000-08:00

Sunflower Satori
Oil On Plywood
24" x 32"

Sudden optimistic flash..........

Rules Of Criticism

2008-12-20T10:49:00.000-08:00

In the new year I will begin to post criticisms of exhibits at galleries in the Toronto area. So I thought it might be a good idea to begin laying out some parameters for my observations.
When I read journalistic criticism of Art I long for objectivity. It's all very good to give the reader a subjective description. But where is the critical content ?
Criticism of Art can exist in the subjective, but then it's just impertinent, both to the Artist and the Journalist, as it trivializes the relationship of the two. That being said, I believe it incumbent on me to set up a critical process that allows the reader to merit the Art based on an objective point of view.
Objectivity in criticism may to some imply a special knowledge or expertise on the subject matter at hand. There may be some merit to that perspective. However that knowledge need not remain in the purview of the critic. What I am referring to is the use of Artspeak that tends to alienate the uninitiated. It is important that the language of criticism remain common, and that any historical reference have some ground of explanation.
The objective does not though stand on its' own, but is rather the fruition of the critical process. So I will start with the subjective. This examination will be one that discusses the merit of the purely physical facets. As one wanders a gallery you might hear viewers saying things such as : I like the colours, or I don't like the texture. The subjective plays on our immediate sense reactions. It is necessary for even a seasoned Artist to experience this level of reaction. After all to get to the heart one must penetrate the flesh.
The objective however tends to pose a different set of questions. These questions may involve the examination of intent, history, psychology, politicization, fundamentals,(i.e. composition and all that entails), materials, preparation, and presentation.
Objective criticism must above all be clear, and not mottled in uncertainty. Objectivity must be positive in its' position. There must be no doubt in the readers' mind as to the nature of what is being reviewed. However that position must not be with prejudice. It is important that there remains room for dialogue. What this type of criticism is capable of accomplishing though is directing the dialogue toward the constructive nature of objectivity, and breaking the flesh of the subjectivity.

The Bum & I

2008-12-15T15:52:00.000-08:00

THE BUM AND I

Well there he is
And I am here
Separated only by this window
A bum with no fear

The street hustles by
Perched on this stool
Grande latte in my cup
A coin or two in his
Hard to look up

He stands stoic, ragged
A long gray coat
Once worn by success
Subway grates stamped in it’s back
We both seem a mess

Hair like straw
Worn thin
Slit eyes peering through the ages
Sun leather skin

Kicks a little dance
For his day
Jester for court of financial fools
Bankers, lawyers
Ladies in jewels

I see them, but I don’t
This one captures me
Shanghaied me
Transfixed me
What does he see

My coffee is warm
Comforting
Crowds herd by
North and south
Bow my head and sigh

Words begin to pile in my mind
What are his
Still his cup is silent
Another quick step, hop
Back curved to the street, he’s bent

My cup is empty too
Stare into untelling bottom
Lift my head to see the bum’s imploring cup
Downtown wind and dust got him

Shall I do as always
Look away
Afraid to see
It could be me

The shanghai bum
To him I flip a dollar coin
Thunk in his cup
Look him in his ascetic eyes thanks for the poem I nod
A little dance in his cup

AGO

2008-12-06T10:34:00.000-08:00

AGO

It was a long time AGO that I started haunting this institution, 1973 to be exact. There have been a lot of changes since, and some things have respectfully remained the same. With the latest incarnation at the hands of Frank Gehry AGO has finally fallen from the sky with grace.
Upon my second visit since the new renovation I took the time to sketch a little doodle of the exterior of the front elevation. Took it home and compared it to Gehry's doodle on the front of the T-shirt I purchased at the gallery gift shop a couple of years ago, and it all made sense.
What strikes me most about the new facade besides the obvious canoe shape of it all, is the forever disappearing vanishing point as I walked along its' length from across the street. Like great art it leads us into timelessness.
Two other elements of the front elevation that also impress me are, for one it is not what it was. The last waste of money and expectation performed on its' skeleton took AGO from being an establishment to house a growing collection of Art to shape our collective consciousness, to being a suburban shopping mall with a self admiring tower to the architect, to remain nameless so that abomination can slip from my memory.
Elements of a further past though still remain and warm my little heart with nostalgia. Both the east and west elevations have kept the modernist renovation done to house the works of Henry Moore, The Abex Artist, Painters 11, The Automatistes, et al et al.
Still I remain undecided about the lobby reception area. The winding walkway, I notice that most people walk around it . There is something about it that is not quite human in it's scale or it's meandering where are we goingness. Although like most of everything else that is new, the use of Douglas Fir I find very endearing in a warm and fuzzy I am Canadian sort of way.
As I travelled through the many rooms and corridors I did find one thing somewhat frustrating, albeit temporary is the fact that there is still work going on. The new winding interior staircase was not open yet, which wasn't so bad. I can wait. There was a lot of work still going on up on the roof, as a result all the skylights were closed. All I have been hearing about is the wonderful rain of natural light that washes the collection. One room in particular I found suffered. Like many of the rooms on the upper contemporary floors it was small providing an intimate experience with a given Artist's work. In this case it was the work of Betty Goodwin. Her work is exquisite, and as an Artist I found it frustrating that I could not enter into a dialogue with the room.
Although there were other areas where both sun and panorama were breath taking. On the rear of the building's 4th floor the windows are dressed with rather wide blinds made from Douglas Fir plywood laminated together that give them a thickness emphasizing the scale of the materials' origin. Light filters through to different effect on given hours of the day and season. I have always found natural light a double edged sword, as the damn earth keeps rotating making sunlight very unreliable on a good day. Case in point, at 90 degrees from the window there are 2 large pieces under glass, the sunlight causes an acute slice across them making them hard to view.
Another of Frank's wonderful insights is how he brings the urban landscape into the the architectural dialogue. On the rear of the building there is a winding staircase that from the outside seems somehow glued onto the facade, and is affectionately called the barnacle. From its' interior it is a completely different story. Complete integration with the city. There are so many views it's hard to begin describing them. For me, though the view towards OCAD stops me dead in my tracks. I have never had anything but bothersome thoughts about the exterior elevations of that chunk of roman nougat. Although my experience of it has always been from street level. Now I am at eye level and I see a Mondrian composition with the towers of downtown as it's frame. Be still my beating heart.
I could go on and on about the collection but I will save that for another day. One other sentimental element that has remained virtually untouched, (Thank you Frank), has been the Henry Moore gallery. I cannot tell you how many hours in the last 30+ years I have sat pondering those mammoth bones in context of my own minute frailty.
One last new element I would like to approach in total awe is the Galleria Italia. I will get to its' sensual virtues, but first I have to say that I am moved by its' tribute to the Italian population, in particular the building families, that have built this city since WW2, bravissimo. Now onto the absolute beauty of this promenade. For one it's supposed to be a corridor to move people from one end of the gallery to the other across the front elevation of the building. I for one upon entering it didn't want to go anywhere. I was awestruck.
From an Architectural & Engineering point of view it is brilliant. One gets the feeling of being in the middle of an incomplete canoe with all its ribs yet to be clad, or of being Jonah in the belly of the whale. And again Douglas Fir feature both as architecture and the engineering of the beast. The ribs are actually titanic sized laminated wood ribs arched skyward, with horizontally connected wood tendons. I remember the opening of the National Gallery in Ottawa years ago. There is a similar promenade but of glass and concrete, and even then as I was walking through it, and I did so in a hurry as I was offended by how the National Gallery of this country could give in to the simple use of concrete and not give it the warmth of wood it so deserved. The thought of gigantic columns of Douglas Fir crossed my mind. Shame on them.
Again Frank integrates the city into the gallery, but instead of sweeping panoramas it's like looking out from inside a well faceted diamond, giving snap shots or vignettes of the neighbourhood, Being low to the street also gives the view a human scale. Stretched across the length of its' floor is a dissected log of Douglas Fir with a stream of sap running down it's middle hollow. I swear I didn't see the do not touch sign, so now the sap has my finger print indelibly pressed into its' goo.
Bravo, and thank you Frank for a marvellous tribute the AGO collection.

2008-11-29T07:12:00.000-08:00

Venus Ascending
Oil On Plywood
24" x 32"

Love rising from the darkness...

Gallery Out/Aut

2008-11-28T06:28:00.000-08:00

An Art gallery in the most unlikely of places, among the bakeries, sports bars, and espresso cafes of Corso Italia of St. Clair West. In the former kurdish Centre below the side walk, the true Avant Garde remains hidden in more than our own subconscious minds. Run by an Artist, Ranko Pavic, from a coastal former Yugoslavian Adriatic country. He brings with him that Slavic artistic sensibility that cuts with razor precision. Last nights' opening of a group show that does not disappoint with vision reminders of Joseph Beuys and Frida Khalo, both political and sensual. Hanging film a smashed TV,a white board english lesson, and a collage Ol Glory all brings the avant garde into the here and now of failing empires and rising new ones.

Refusal

2008-11-27T19:16:00.001-08:00

REFUSAL

Here I lie arms crossed in belligerent refusal on the couch potato chesterfield pft pft pft sound of the spout watering the garden out the screened window exhausted from the heat of the brick and mortar, hammers, saws and dust, wires and pipes building the house by day small cottage across the street strange pink, where did Ginsberg hide his marijuana? 2 flies walking on the sun flower without sutra, scepter, gray locomotive and greasy river, is it true - Kandahar explosions for Allah - Burroughs is not dead but conducting terrorism eating naked lunch on roof of Kasbah in Tangiers, still I lie arms crossed in belligerent refusal……………

On The Road 4

2008-11-27T18:55:00.000-08:00

Thumb to the wind
squint at the horizon
Shadow of the crow

Superman

2008-11-27T18:53:00.000-08:00

Superman

Hey Superman
your cape unfurled
Frayed around it's edges
tattered and torn

You need a shave

One eye squinting to see
No more tall buildings to leap
No more railing locomotives
Even Clark Kent
Has nothing to write
Greed is your kryptonite
Wall St. is walled

Gotham destroyed it's Goth

You need
A new bad guy
Ya killed the last guy
Blew him to shit

Your girl has lost her shine

Who's next
Iceland looks good
throwin ice at us

The Statue of bigotry has drowned

The Ramble

2008-11-27T16:29:00.000-08:00

Ramble

thinking about all the music the tv we devour
sows at the trough of profit while war
bargained and waged boxers and the wwf
spewing threats and love to hate with words
running out of round mouths while birds
threatened by this shit and that fly in
swallowed by big round…wait there goes
another new car look at its sex big round firm
silicone and other stuff cured that’s what I am
and saved by some Jewish guy in Palestine
2000 years ago when I can’t even save myself
love to have that one not the small one I want
the big shiny one no not just one I want 2 just
like Pammie Andersons’- use to smoke - damn
cold but not as it use to be you see my big sex
on 4 wheels warmed the sky now the polar
bear’s got a tan………

2008-11-27T16:28:00.000-08:00

Neither this or that, or here or there...

Karma

2008-11-27T15:27:00.000-08:00

Like physics...act -react

Jean Louis (St. jack)

2008-11-27T15:25:00.000-08:00

Jean Louis

The old hobo
Of buddhas gone
Into the winds
Goes the pain
The angelic
The solemn

The love of friends
Sustains the poets way
Hardened roads
To soft sands
To the gaze of memere

Return you
Saint of the pen and heart
Return you
To the strange cottage in Berkely

Seek solace
In the middle way
Bodhisatva of the road

Vengeance Ascending

2008-11-27T15:21:00.000-08:00

Gabriel flies protective shotgun over innocence...as eternal darkness approaches...

The Village

2008-11-27T15:08:00.000-08:00

THE VILLAGE

New York was still new, fresh, young even, in my eyes. Even the air seemed fresh. That was then, a different time, just arrived with art and lust in my eyes. Now I know better. This mad house has been home for 10 years, almost to the day, and everyone of them a new disease. All the inmates sick with creation.

The Village Hotel had been around since this place actually was a village. Some 90 years ago it was celebrated as the newest art deco place for the elite to hang their hats after an evening sitting in a palatial even more ornate theatre watching the latest outing of Sarah Bernhardt under the jewelled light of the theatres' grand chandelier. The Village and it's gaslit streets long gone, now as anonymous as any city blocks on this anthill. If you look hard enough you can see what it was, a lot of the buildings still there, but with fluorescent lit commercial signs tacked to their facades. The hotel being no exception. Even The curlycewed iron railings that festoon every floor, and the front entrance somehow seem invisible.

The sun tried to break through my studio window on the 11th floor of the Village Hotel. Decades of grime filtered it's rays allowing my waking to almost be a gentle experience. Sitting on the edge of my bed, squinted a stolen look at last nights' work, the canvas nailed on the far wall . Ya, so far well enough. Patti Smith's Horses CD box still sitting on the player. My studio was one of many full time residence rooms in the hotel. The others also occupied by artists of various veins, and some major eccentrics. I was fortunate as the studio I occupy now is quite large, use to be 2 suites, and was once occupied by a rather dubious local artist whose reputation as a bon vivant far exceeded his work. There is an essence in the many layers of peeling paint and wallpaper that endear me to this space. It makes me feel as though it is actually more a place to work than to hang my hat. Which is why I work and sleep here and little else. The ceiling shows signs of its' past elegance with ornate plaster mouldings where there use to hang light fixtures of that art deco period, now the owner in his typical fashion has installed fixtures from the local hardware. At some point in time this building was raped of all its' fixtures and knick knacks, all either not replaced or done as cheaply as possible. The walls and ceilings were all repainted, quite often over top of the old wallpaper. The windows, all original and very drafty. Hardwood floors, maple I think, stained with black streaks of age. I can imagine the door as once upon a time being wood with panels, but like anything else of value it's been stripped away and replaced by a flophouse flat steel door, and peep hole to discriminate and judge those who wish to enter. Makes me wonder sometimes how much dough was made by our illustrious owner in selling off everything from then. But then if this abodes' illustrious past had been maintained could it have become home to all the rogues who live here now? Probably not. The hallways as much as they have become as benignly anonymous as the rest of the new decor, it is oddly a place of community. The residents are wont to give impromptu exhibits of their works in its' narrow dimly lit environs. Often these little showings become like any gallery opening with booze and lotsa chat, and readings by many of the more literary inclined. Many writers and poets have lived here, some famous, but like most of us here we toil in relative obscurity. About fame, ya, we have had rock stars, poets , novelist, and the odd fashionistas amongst us. They too like the decor remain anonymous as they prefer to be. They can walk the halls, or hang out in the lobby, with no fear of being hounded, kind of sinking into the wallpaper with the rest of us.

...more to come