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Arts

Ocelle: connecting the real with the virtual

Vincent Larouche exhibits familiar characters through dynamic paintings

From video games and sci-fi films to cyberpunk, Vincent Larouche found a unique way to reunite contemporary themes in a dynamic exhibition that depicts a generation that grew up surrounded by pop and media culture.

Presented at Fonderie Darling, a visual-arts venue in Montreal’s Old Port, Ocelle is an exhibition that showcases nine paintings in a space where the real and the virtual coexist.

Larouche is a Montreal-based artist who graduated with a BFA from Concordia in 2019. Since then, the artist has built a reputable name for himself, doing several exhibitions both locally and internationally, including his first solo exhibition in Montreal Black-Talk (2017) and another called Bouches de Cendres Actives (2019).

The paintings are placed around the room as if each canvas will present the next sequence of the previous painting. It feels like admiring images that came out of a comic book.

Larouche’s work portrays caricatures. In Ocelle, he included various familiar characters that one may recognize from pop culture.

A Study in Motion (2019-2020), depicts Sonic the Hedgehog, the well-known protagonist of a series of video games published by Sega. In this painting, viewers can observe a female character looking directly at them, as if the character was posing for a picture, surrounded by different poses of Sonic.

Being a Sonic fan myself, seeing this painting brought me back to my childhood, when I would watch the animated series or get dizzy playing a Sonic-themed race game on the GameCube. Good times.

Then, famous Hollywood stars Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock are portrayed side by side in Ontological Fan Fiction (2019). This painting illustrates Reeves in his character from The Matrix (1999) and Bullock as her character from the 2009 movie The Blind Side. Compared to the previous painting, this canvas seems less joyful. Both characters have serious looks on their faces and exude mystery.

Another particular artwork that is fascinating to admire is History Painting (2020). The canvas shows a hacker destroying a computer system, while looking towards those viewing. This painting is an example, among others, that illustrates the concept of evil.

Dante Looking at Phlegyas, (2020) is a piece illustrating a heroic figure being observed by what seems to be devils, illustrated on opposite corners of the painting. While the artwork may seem childish due to its simplicity, it may depict how there’s a desire to possess power in a virtual world.

The painted characters easily capture the audience’s gaze, with the figures looking back in return.

It’s strange, yet bizarre, being observed by fictional beings. Plus, they are placed around a small room, which gives the audience the impression that they are being watched from every corner of the space.

Ocelle presents dynamic and engaging artwork. Many of Larouche’s characters give off several expressions; some may seem more malicious than others, while others may seem more sympathetic or even suspicious.

Walking through the space, it is as if the roles are alternated. Instead of spectators observing the fictional figures, the figures are watching them. Sounds like a sci-fi movie plot.

The feeling of being observed by fictional caricatures is creepy. Though, the exhibition shows the deep relationship between the natural and the supernatural worlds as they cohabit together in reality.

Technology has advanced rapidly, allowing the creation of several virtual worlds that can be explored through video games, television series, books and more. Ocelle represents a new fantasy world, where pop and media culture icons come together and observe another reality; never taking their eyes off the public.

Ocelle is on display at Fonderie Darling, at 745 Ottawa St., until April 4. The art complex is open Thursday to Sunday from 12:00 p.m. to 7:00 p.m. For more information about Fonderie Darling’s current programming, visit their website or follow them on Facebook and Instagram.

 

Photos by Ana Lucia Londono Flores.

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Arts

Ecologies pays homage to planet Earth

The Montreal Museum of Fine Arts’ latest exhibition captures the complexities of global warming

I have rarely left a museum feeling emotional and so deeply invested in the curator’s cause. Walking out onto Sherbrooke Street after leaving Ecologies: A Song for Our Planet, I found myself breathtaken and with a heavy heart; both hopeful and troubled for the future that awaits us.

Curated by Iris Amizlev, curator of intercultural arts, Ecologies features over 90 works from the museum’s collection, all of which interpret the current environmental crisis in a different way. Featured artists include Shuvinai Ashoona, Olafur Eliasson, and Lorraine Gilbert.

Upon walking into the space, viewers can observe Giuseppe Penone’s Path (1983), an almost whimsical sculpture that appears to be at once a human and a flowering tree. Penone’s bronze cast figure serves as a demonstration and connection between humans and nature — a theme which Amizlev has made apparent at various instances throughout the exhibition.

Another example of the relationship between humans and the environment can be observed in Lorraine Gilbert’s Boreal Forest Floor, La Macaza, Quebec (2010). The print, which is only half of a diptych from the series “Once Upon a Forest,” features manipulated photographs of plants that are native to Quebec.

Gilbert manipulated the photographs, creating what is essentially a collage, in an attempt to give viewers a “man-made” view of an already beautiful landscape. By resizing, reorganizing, and essentially recreating the scenery, the work demonstrates society’s inclination towards controlling a natural process.

Further in the space, viewers can admire Osuitok Ipeelee’s Untitled (Walruses) (1977) and Peter Qumaluk Itukalla’s Untitled (Bear and Cub) (2003). Though the works are not directly about the climate crisis, the stone sculptures capture the beauty of the threatened Canadian wilderness.

By referencing Indigenous artists and the impacts of colonization, Amizlev makes the important connection between a longstanding history of environmental injustice and the mistreatment of Indigenous peoples, two issues which fall hand-in-hand.

Olafur Eliasson’s Untitled no. 44 (1997), from his series “Iceland,” is a print featuring a stunning depiction of an Icelandic landscape. The contrast between the grassy plain and snowy field in the distance allows viewers to appreciate the grandiosity and serenity of the vast Nordic region.

Eliasson’s works frequently incorporate science, and specifically more “elemental” materials such as water and air. The Danish-Icelandic artist primarily creates installations, and explores themes such as weather, the environment, and space.

In contrast to Eliasson’s tranquil photograph, Adrian Stimson’s Beyond Redemption (2010) is forthright and provocative. Consisting of a taxidermied bison surrounded by ten bison skins draped across black crosses, Stimson’s installation pays homage to the history and importance of the bison in Indigenous communities.

Stimson, a member of the Siksika nation, sacrificed a bison as a means of honouring the near-eradication of the species, as well as the Indigenous tribes who rely on them for sustenance. He offers a glance at the importance of the bison in Indigenous spirituality, as well as the ramifications of human actions on a group of animals that once dominated the wilderness.

Presented alongside Ecologies, viewers can view Paul Walde’s mesmerizing video installation, Requiem for a Glacier (2013). Performed by over 50 artists on the Farnham Glacier in British Columbia, Walde’s piece serves as an homage to the land.

In addition to being threatened by global warming, the government of British Columbia had announced developing a ski resort on the unceded Indigenous land of the Ktunaxa Nation, causing a series of land disputes which lasted over a decade. Walde’s performance features a choir singing the Latin translation of the press release published by the government authorities.

At once aesthetically gratifying and informational, Ecologies provides the public with a compelling narrative and ode to planet Earth. Amizlev’s selection of works so profoundly captures the intricacies and complexity of the climate crisis, offering viewers an experience that is both alarming and stunning.

Ecologies: A Song for Our Planet is on display at the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts, at 1380 Sherbrooke St. W., until Feb. 27, 2022. The museum is open from 10:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. Tuesday to Sunday. Reservations must be made in advance. To book a ticket, visit https://www.mbam.qc.ca/en/ticket-office/.

 

Photos courtesy of the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts.

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Ar(t)chives Arts

Helen Frankenthaler’s abstract climates

A deep-dive into the artist’s influential role on the abstract movement

A practicing artist for over 60 years, Helen Frankenthaler’s collection of works spanned many key moments and transformations in abstract art. The American abstract expressionist has actually been recognized for her contributions to postwar abstract painting.

Frankenthaler has been attributed with the influential shift of abstract expressionism to colour field painting, alongside the likes of other notable figures such as Mark Rothko and Ad Reinhardt.

Colour field painting — a genre characterized by compositions containing large, simple fields of colour — emerged in the 1950s and marked a pivotal moment in modern art, marked by the separation of emotion and religion from painterly depictions.

In addition to Frankenthaler’s effect on the transition into a new artistic era, she gained notoriety for further developing the technique of colour-staining. The technique had initially been developed by Jackson Pollock, who earned acclaim for pouring paint and pigments directly onto a canvas.

Opposite Pollock’s bombastic technique, Frankenthaler applied thin washes of paint to unprimed canvases, giving them an almost whimsical appearance. A key example of this technique can be observed in Mountains and Sea (1952), which consists of organic strokes of vibrant blue, green, and pink hues against a pale yellow background.

Contrary to Mountains and Sea, her work Shippan Point: Twilight (1980) features wider, harsher, and darker brushstrokes. The use of black overlayed on turquoise and blue hues gives the viewer the same sense as being by the water at night. And rightly so; a quick Google search about Shippan Points yields hundreds of photos of a Connecticut peninsula featuring a pier, dock, and the deep blues of the Atlantic ocean rising up against the shoreline.

Despite not being a direct rendition of mountains and the sea, or of a dock by the ocean, Frankenthaler’s work somehow manages to elicit the same feeling of looking at a landscape. Vibrant, yet serene and somewhat chaotic, yet dainty, the artist’s canvases capture the calming effects that colour and simplicity can have on the mind, as well as the unpredictability of the elements surrounding us.

“My pictures are full of climates, abstract climates,” said Frankenthaler, in regards to her work. “They’re not nature per se, but a feeling.”

 

Graphic by Taylor Reddam.

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Arts

Somewhere Gallery combines curation and care

Concordia grad aims to create a welcoming and inclusive space for Montreal’s emerging artists

Katherine Parthimos, founder and lead curator of Somewhere Gallery, has long, wavy-curly teal hair — as though a mermaid wandered into the city and started working in an art gallery.

In reality, Parthimos graduated in the middle of a pandemic, from Concordia University, with a Studio Arts degree; ready to start a career in a severely impacted industry. She spent the summer finding and figuring out what to do with the space on Park Avenue now known as Somewhere Gallery.

Since September, Parthimos has produced four vernissages highlighting the emerging arts community — alone, during a lockdown. The gallery’s fifth exhibit, Archiving Identity, a collaboration with the VAV Gallery, will feature the work of five Concordia artists. It’s the only in-person show of the VAV Gallery’s programming this academic year, though they have had online-only ones.

“For me it’s more about filling the needs of the emerging artist community,” says Parthimos, which she defines as artists in their last year of a relevant program, up to six years post-grad. The gallery doesn’t have the equipment to display digital works yet, and COVID is responsible for halting performance art, but pretty much every other medium is welcomed.

For the entire time Parthimos has run the gallery she’s always had to comply with the stricter regulations that provincial guidelines have required for public safety.

Suffice to say, Parthimos has been busy.

She began dabbling in curation during her final year of school, mostly collaborating with other students. Parthimos explained that while the Studio Arts program offers classes on topics like grant writing, there isn’t a clear track to pursue to become a curator.

“This is just as much of a learning opportunity for me as it is for the artist exhibiting at the space, so I think it’s an interesting conversation to have, emerging artist and emerging curator together,” she said, noting that the roles can create power imbalances.

“I consider this an art initiative over an art institution,” said Parthimos. Many commercial galleries take a commission of 40 to 50 per cent, which artists accept for the chance to show their work to a larger platform. Parthimos takes 25 per cent, which sustains the gallery but doesn’t make her a profit.

She does everything herself, from mounting the exhibitions, collecting the artist statements, creating the virtual tours, learning graphic design along the way, receiving visitors who have scheduled appointments, and then taking everything down to start again.

[blockquote align=”right” author=””]”Being an artist myself it was always just a jab in the gut to have to go to a gallery and have an exhibition, where if you sell your work you lose half your profits. That was always something that didn’t sit right with me,” she continued.[/blockquote]

“The concepts that I incorporate into my own painting and sculpture are based on community and people’s relationships. That’s a direct parallel to my focus in curation which is a focus on unifying community and bringing people together,” said Parthimos.

Nesreen Galal, a Concordia student double majoring in Computation and Studio Arts heard of Parthimos’s work at Somewhere Gallery through friends in the artistic community. She exhibited a series called Destruction in Digital Daydream, Somewhere Gallery’s fourth exhibit, in February. Galal contributed five Polaroid photos, rendered abstract through physical manipulation, similar to Photoshop editing made analogue.

“It’s the idea that art surprises me or that I have a mutual connection with art,” said Galal, a self-described perfectionist, also used to working with the control digital media provides.

“The [analogue] object itself has as much power as I do, so it surprises me and controls me and I control it too, and I feel like it’s a different relationship with art as well,” said Galal.

Galal used a variety of household products and objects, including bleach, to plan a few month-long experimental projects, which led to the production of colourful, expressive abstract forms bursting out of the classic white square Polaroid picture frames that were displayed at Somewhere Gallery and titled Destruction.

“It was my first ever [physical] exhibition, and it was awesome to showcase with different artists,” said Galal.

The traditions of art gallery openings, free wine and close conversations with the other artists weren’t possible because of government regulations, which Galal understood but was disappointed about. “I feel like considering COVID-19, [Parthimos] did a really good job with the reservations of two people. The process was very smooth,,” she said.

A number of the Polaroids, priced individually at $50, sold quickly.

“I was in awe. It felt surreal. [Parthimos] told me, ‘you sold some of your pieces!’ She knew it was my first physical exhibition. It got a very good reaction despite COVID. A lot of people were really interested to go and see the work,” continued Galal.

Destruction was unframed, like many pieces that have been displayed in Somewhere Gallery. This is worth noting  — art gallery conventions prescribe white walls, glass, matting and custom-cut frames to display the works.

But smaller, less established spaces like Somewhere Gallery, have the opportunity to reject or play with tradition. The gallery is small but sun-filled, measuring 15 by 9 feet, with one wall completely occupied by a window, which has an expansive view of Park Avenue’s cheerful chaos.

“My main goal is to have a unified and cohesive show to go through. Aesthetically I do try to find works that flow into each other, especially in such a small space. Putting together the show to make it physically unified, the size of artwork in relation to everything else, colour. In the past a lot of the shows I have put together have a colour palette that is apparent. Sometimes subtle colours, sometimes pops of colour. Formal artistic qualities like  [those ones] really offer a cohesiveness,” explained Parthimos.

“I try to incorporate the space as much as possible,” she continued.

An example of this was a 7-foot-tall painting by artist Trevor Bourke that was placed on the floor leaning, instead of hung up traditionally in the November 2020 exhibit, Current Location: Undefined. 

“Just little things like that are so interesting, because it kind of turned a wall piece into more of a sculptural thing,” said Parthimos. “Having a work that large in this space [provides] a different interpretation of the work than having it in a larger gallery where it seems like it fits the size of the wall. You wouldn’t feel it’s presence there in my opinion, as much as you would here. So that was something I was interested in playing with.”

The arts world, falling under ‘Culture’ was one of the worst affected industries in a 2020 StatsCan report on the Canadian economy in relation to the pandemic, which further detailed the increased disadvantages faced by women and young workers during this time.

“There is a lot of opportunity for you in school through the Concordia gallery and various festivals but once you leave school, you fall in this grey zone. You’re not really supported by the school anymore but you’re too emerging to be accepted by the artist-run centre community. That develops later on,” said Parthimos. “I think it’s really important to continue having these opportunities and continuing to exhibit your art to grow and to have that dialogue with people.”

Parthimos tries to create a warm, personal, experience for guests, rather than the sometimes sterile, faceless, environments big galleries have fostered in order to advance the idea of art as a commodity.

“I’ve always been really interested in community building initiatives and I was also part of the Fine Arts Student Alliance [at Concordia],” said Parthimos. “That really brought into my mind the significance of integrating communities, and offering back to the community you’re a part of.”

Archiving Identity is on display at Somewhere Gallery at 6830 Park Ave. #358 until March 25. Visitors can reserve an appointment by emailing somewhere.gallery.mtl@gmail.com.

 

Photos by Kit Mergaert

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Arts

Marie-Claude Marquis presents her solo exhibition Dancing Contradictions

Exposing sincere messages on delicate materials

In her newest solo exhibition Dancing Contradictions, presented at Galerie Robertson Arès, Montreal-based multidisciplinary artist Marie-Claude Marquis showcases a collection of 97 vintage plates and eight velvet embroideries.

Everyone is experiencing the pandemic differently; it has proven to be the most unsure time of our lives, as the future remains uncertain. To that end, the series depicts the hardships and successes that the world has gone through during this period of time.

Marquis’ artistic practice revolves around porcelain plates and embroideries. She reuses objects to give them a second life. The vintage plates were objects Marquis recycled, giving them a new meaning. Also, every instance of writing was hand-painted or embroidered by herself.

Dancing Contradictions exposes fragility and strength as the pandemic has shown to be a rollercoaster ride of events and emotions.

The collection is set around the gallery. One wall is dedicated to Marquis’ velvet embroideries. Each piece has a different design and message inscribed. The messages are either written in French or in English, and feature familiar expressions that can easily be recognized. Marquis inserted curse words and Quebec expressions that one may hear once in a while, but also quotes that one may have read on the internet, such as in You’re overthinking again (1/3), (2021)

At times, some messages may sound cheesy; some may be funny and relatable. Some of them can also bring a sense of comfort as there are words that may reflect one’s state of mind, or may simply be words of encouragement. Still, they are honest and are there for the audience to engage with.

For the velvet embroideries, spectators can admire works such as Faut pas croire tout ce qu’on pense (3/3), (2021), Oh, baby baby it’s a fucking wild world (3/3), (2021), Focus on what you can control (3/3), (2021), and more. These velvet embroideries evoke a vintage aesthetic with the different prints and colours Marquis used in her work.

The embroideries are square shaped, inspired by silk squares, also known as silk scarves, that are mostly worn by women, and became popular during the post-war years. According to  Rampley & Co, a British clothing company, silk scarves became a symbol of glamour, power and independence during that time. Marquis incorporated the styles of silk scarves, as her embroideries are made with vivid and sharp patterns.

As for the vintage plates, they remind the audience of porcelain plates they may have in their homes, hidden in their kitchen cabinets as they are used less frequently.

It could be hard to pick your favourite vintage plate as they vary in shape, structure, pattern and colour. For example, Riding Dirty, (2021) is a plate depicting Off to School (1920), a painting made by Norman Rockwell. Lots of things happen for no reason at all, (2021) is a floral plate, like Osti de mélancolie, (2021)

Marquis has found a way to bring comfort, humour and honesty to her work. As there are many art pieces, it seems like there is a message for everyone. While there may be some straightforward words, compared to others that may sound softer, they can depict sentences one may not think out loud, or comforting words one needs to hear.

The pandemic brought uncertainty to everyone. It also brought change into our lives. With new hobbies, new life goals, and unexpected events, the pandemic allowed everyone to grow in a certain way. While Marquis’ main concern is the impact of isolation on mental health, she made sure to expose these expressions that people unconsciously carry with themselves.

Dancing Contradictions encourages spectators to engage with the artwork, express their feelings towards them and remind them that everyone is in the same boat. Hopefully, the exhibition can uplift some in these weird times.

Dancing Contradictions is on display at Galerie Robertson Arès, at 1490 Sherbrooke St. W, until March 27. The gallery is open from 10:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m Monday to Saturday, and Sunday by appointment. Viewers can check out some of her art pieces here.

 

Photos courtesy of Galerie Robertson Arès.

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Arts

Minari and the immortalization of one family’s American Dream

The 2021 Golden Globes Winner for Best Foreign Language Film is about a Korean-American family in rural Arkansas

“She’s the reason I made this film,” said Lee Isaac Chung as he held his daughter in his arms.

It was an opening line to an acceptance speech for a bittersweet victory.

Minari (2020) is a semi-autobiographical film written and directed by Denver-born director Lee Isaac Chung. It tells the story of a Korean American family’s relocation from California to rural Arkansas in the 1980s, where its patriarch is determined to start a farm. Despite its universally relatable storyline, debates over the film’s eligibility to compete amongst other American films persist.

Minari’s Golden Globe nomination for Best Foreign Language Film has stirred up a complex, painful awareness of rejection and alienation for Asians across America and Canada, like myself. 

Minari was written, directed, filmed and produced in America; it tells the story of an American family in the midwest, and stars a predominantly American cast — yet its win for Best Foreign Language Film has punctuated the chasm between what is offered to American families of colour, and what is demanded of them.

The Hollywood Foreign Press Association (HFPA) rejected Minari’s bid for Best Picture because the film is predominantly in Korean. However, as film journalists have highlighted, the HFPA nominated Quentin Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds — which also features foreign languages — in the main category of Best Film in the past. The HFPA’s rejection of Minari as an American film is representative of the open rejection of the Asian diaspora and their place in North America.

Minari stars the Yi family — parents Jacob and Monica are chicken sexers from California who have an opportunity to pay off their debts if they can successfully get their small farm started in Arkansas. 

As the family struggles with supporting Jacob’s parents as well as managing the heart condition of their eight-year-old son, David, a decision was made for Monica’s mother to come from South Korea to live with the family.

First and second generation Asian immigrants are all too familiar with the layered complexities of filial piety in the same ways that the Yi family experiences — living in multigenerational homes while navigating their obligations between the generations before and after them.

David complains throughout the film that his grandmother isn’t “like a real grandma.” That she “smells like Korea” and should be baking cookies. Instead, David’s grandmother brings him to a creek deep in the woods near their trailer home, and introduces him to a Korean plant called minari. She tells him that “Minari grow anywhere,” and that “Rich or poor, anyone can enjoy it and be healthy.”

The film’s cultural significance is a universal language of the rooting of our ancestral tapestry — from which every American-born Asian child and grandchild blossom.

Much like David, the young boy in Minari, I grew up with varying degrees of shame and pride for my dual identities as both American and Chinese. As an adult who later immigrated to Canada, learning French and settling into life in Montreal has been a natural extension of my existing immigrant identity. So natural, that when I was interrupted mid-conversation with a friend on the STM to be complimented for my “good English,” I was vilified for calling out this problematic behavior.

Language has been a particularly sore subject for me — I speak English with perfect fluency, and French with a barely detectable accent. But try as I might, everywhere I went, I was reminded that no amount of assimilation would ever be enough.

In the film, Jacob toils away at a piece of cursed land, negotiating his priorities against his dreams throughout the film. It is perverse that this universally relatable story of resilience and perseverance is categorized as foreign. 

What Asian Americans heard was a message we’ve heard throughout our lives — you may speak perfect English, know no home other than the United States, be born and raised on American soil, tend to a piece of the American dream, and still be considered an outsider.

Perhaps narratives like the struggling farmer or western cowboy trespasses into the kind of American identity that immigrants and BIPOC are restricted from. We are only allowed to be Americans with a hyphen — because the full American identity isn’t available to us.

Asians born in rural Quebec and densely populated New York alike live a shared reality — a constant interrogation of both our roots and our allegiances, as if our only choices are one or the other. Perhaps the most revealing nuance for immigrants in North America is the silent understanding that as we commit to a lifelong embrace of our western home, its institutions will continuously fail to embrace us.

Nevertheless, Asians in North America will honour films like Minari for the ways it immortalizes our stories — offering a long overdue perspective of ethnic Americans in an otherwise predominantly white western narrative.

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Arts

Stéphane Crête showcases Jamais Seul

A video installation projecting intimacy, freedom and escape in relation to nature

Created by comedian and actor Stéphane Crête, in collaboration with his son, Philémon Crête, a cinematographer and producer, Jamais Seul (Never Alone) is a video installation exhibited at the Cinémathèque québécoise, located at 335 Boul. de Maisonneuve E.

Jamais Seul explores freedom and escape in different environments visited by Stéphane Crête. The artist aims to create a connection between the body and its environment.

The video installation is composed of three parts: Rouler (ride), Marcher (walk) and Contempler (contemplate). Each part portrays Crête engaging with his environment in a distinctive way.

Rouler consists of a video with three screens, each of which depicts a different aspect. The first screen shows Crête laying on a bed in different environments. Viewers can see Crête either awake or sleeping. He may be in a room or in a tent. Nonetheless, he is never in the same place.

The second screen is footage on the road that the artist filmed while driving. For instance, Crête may be driving on an empty road away from the city, on a bridge, or he may be driving on the highway near an urban area.

The third screen is another compilation of videos that Crête filmed where he shows his surroundings in different places. One can see the sun setting by the sea, a field on a sunny day, and many more locations that Crête has visited.

The second projection is Marcher, a video installation where the audience can observe Crête walking in different environments, sometimes fully clothed, half-clothed or naked. Crête doesn’t make eye contact with the camera; he simply walks in front of the lens. Most of the time, he has his back to the camera.

The artist walks in a variety of climates. Viewers can see Crête walking in cold or hot places. Crête can be seen walking on sand dunes, on a deserted road, or he can also be seen walking in a forest full of snow or even in a rainforest. There is a shot where he is sitting at the beach during sunset, contemplating the view while the waves crash on the shore.

The artist is never in the presence of another human. He is in the company of nature. This forms a bond between human life and non-human life that surrounds Crête.

The third installation of the collection is Contempler, small footage closeups of different textures of nature. The artist is in contact with his environment through touch. The videos show Crête touching moss, a bee on a flower petal and closeups of leaves, dirt and more. This is the way he engages with his environment to depict the deep connection his body has with it.

Jamais Seul gives spectators the opportunity to follow Crête’s path and see the many types of landscapes that exist. The audience can connect with what is being shown on the screen as some of these environments may be reminders of familiar places they have visited while travelling or simply by taking a walk near a field or in a forest. Still, they remain unknown places to spectators.

Like in a movie, Crête has created a relationship between the actor and the spectator. Crête’s solitude makes the audience desire to be this body wandering in the landscapes seen on the screen. This creates the longing of escaping in these places.

The artist is connecting with his environment. Nothing distracts him from the breathtaking sceneries in which he walks. While watching the video installation, one can realize how the world consists of beautiful places. With the current climate emergency, it may remind the audience of the importance of preserving the environment as it is being harmed due to human activities.

As mentioned in the exhibition’s description, the images projected in the exposition can also be interpreted as a dystopic representation of the end of the world. Crête may be presenting what the world would look like if there was only one human remaining on Earth.

Jamais Seul reminds its viewers of the way they are internally connected to nature as they also take part in the creationJamais Seul is on display at Cinémathèque québécoise until April 4. The space is open from 12:00 p.m. to 6:00 p.m. every day.

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Arts

Malcolm & Marie: exploring fragility and passion within a relationship

A Hollywood couple brings the audience into an intense confrontation 

Directed by Sam Levinson, the creator of the HBO series Euphoria, Malcolm & Marie is a black-and-white movie that tells the story of producer Malcolm Elliot (John David Washington) and his girlfriend Marie Jones (Zendaya) who spend a full night arguing, putting their relationship to the test.

Once you are 20 minutes into the movie, you already know what it will be about.

The story takes place in a Malibu house that the production company Malcolm works for has provided for him and Marie. They come home after Malcolm’s movie premiere, which went very well for him. He puts some music on, makes himself a drink and celebrates his accomplishment while dancing in the living room. Meanwhile, Marie is in the kitchen, preparing a late night snack for both of them.

Malcolm is happy. Marie seems bothered by something. 

While Malcolm is anticipating the reviews and expressing his excitement about the audience’s response to his film’s screening, Marie lights up a cigarette, nodding at everything Malcolm says. Malcolm suddenly notices something is off in Marie’s energy. He asks her what’s bothering her.

Marie tries to avoid a quarrel since it is late at night. In vain, Marie decides to confront Malcolm and tell him that she is upset with him as he didn’t thank her at the movie premiere.

Marie tells Malcolm that his film, which is about a woman named Imani who struggles with drug addiction, was based on her past life when she was a drug addict when they met.

Malcolm denies Marie’s accusations, telling her the movie has nothing to do with Marie. Still, Marie stays convinced as she tells him that the movie wouldn’t have turned out the way it did if they weren’t together.

Then, Malcolm and Marie go through a series of arguments. In one scene, they scream at each other, letting go of all of their rage that was hidden inside of them.

Frankly, I thought there might be more to the story than seeing two people fighting on screen. The movie was exhausting at times since Malcolm and Marie end up arguing every time there was a tender moment between them. It is as though every hidden feeling or issue with one another was coming to light.

Malcolm & Marie is a romantic drama film, but it is very different compared to other romantic movies. It is not the typical story where both characters fall in love and live happily ever after. On the contrary, viewers find themselves in the middle of a conflict between two people and it is hard to know whether their fight will lead to something good in the end.

There are times where the audience might feel uncomfortable, because let’s face it, there is nothing worse than witnessing a couple fighting. 

As someone who doesn’t like conflict, it wasn’t very pleasant to see both characters in the middle of a fight. Malcolm and Marie said hurtful things to one another when they had a chance. Most of the time, it wasn’t necessary.

Although the movie is emotionally charged, Levinson did an incredible job at depicting a side of couples that tends to be seen less on television. People have issues and relationships aren’t perfect.

Malcolm and Marie love each other very much, but their love is dysfunctional. While watching the movie, it may be hard to pick a character’s side as both of them have a right to being mad at each other.

At the beginning of the movie, Marie says “I promise you, nothing productive is going to be said tonight.” She was right as they tore each other apart in one night, later wondering if their relationship was worth it.

Malcolm & Marie is available to stream on Netflix. 

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Ar(t)chives Arts

Mathematics and spirituality: decoding Hilma af Klint’s work

A brief overview of the Swedish artist’s esoteric paintings

You may recognize Hilma af Klint’s works from their abstract shapes in bold tones of purple, yellow, orange and blue. Combining distinct floral and geometric elements, the Swedish artist’s paintings were greatly inspired by the stages of life.

Born in Stockholm in 1862, af Klint went on to study at Royal Academy of Fine Arts. Meanwhile, she began to immerse herself in spiritualism and Theosophy, a religious movement established in the late 19th century.

According to Encyclopedia Britannica, a key characteristic of Theosophy is the belief that there is a “deeper spiritual reality and that direct contact with that reality can be established through intuition, meditation, revelation, or some other state transcending normal human consciousness.”

Af Klint’s inclination towards this system of beliefs greatly led her to founding “The Five.” The group consisted of women artists who gathered on Fridays for spiritual meetings, wherein they would pray, meditate, and conduct séances, which included the practice of automatic writing and mediumistic drawing exercises.

During one of her meetings with The Five, “an otherworldly ‘guide’ instructed af Klint to design a temple connected by a spiral path, and commissioned her to make paintings for this temple,” according to the Guggenheim. This would subsequently lead af Klint to create 193 works, known collectively today as The Paintings for the Temple. Created between 1906 and 1915, the series of works is recognized today as one of the first examples of western abstract art.

In 1907, af Klint painted a series of 10 works titled The Ten Largest, which demonstrate her interpretations of the messages she believed to have been receiving. The works display connection to the universe through recognizable shapes and patterns such as flowers, cells, eggs, and orbs.

The paintings, which resemble both diagrams and art, draw from science, botany, geometry, and colour theory, offering a glimpse at the way in which everything is connected. Af Klint’s contrasting use of holistic and scientific symbols display the artist’s methodical, yet almost “radical” and abstract approach to artmaking.

Aside from af Klint’s revelatory works, what is remarkable about her practice is how contemporary it feels. The works merge spirituality and science in a way that is seamless, aesthetically pleasing, and that manages to feel relevant today.

As stated by artist R.H. Quaytman in the Hilma af Klint catalogue published by the Guggenheim Museum in New York, “If you . . . didn’t know anything, you’d think these paintings were made ten or twenty years ago. You would not know how old they were. And what’s so thrilling about her work, I find, is how contemporary it feels.”

It is outstanding that works created over a century ago are still pertinent in our age. Perhaps af Klint’s revelations offered her a glimpse into the future.

Graphic by Taylor Reddam-Woo.

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Arts

Nomadland: A solemn tale of poverty in the United States

Chloé Zhao’s third feature film spans a year-long quest by a woman who has lost everything

The United States is broken. With affordable housing being unwaveringly difficult to find in cities like San Francisco and New York, some people have settled on leading nomadic lifestyles. Nomadland, the third feature film from Chinese-born director Chloé Zhao, is a heart wrenching tale of searching for home after one loses everything.

After the town of Empire, Nevada is shut down due to the closure of the U.S. Gypsum plant, Fern, played by the ever-astounding Frances McDormand, sets off to live in her van, effectively abandoning the notion of living a stable life in a quiet town.

Nomadland follows Fern for a full calendar year as she searches for various temporary jobs and shelters that will let her park her van for the night. The movie is plot-lite. There are no action sequences or moments that leave you wanting more. Zhao’s main goal here is to let the viewer examine and analyze the state of poverty in a country as rich and grand as the United States.

The American Dream will have you believe that it is easy to find a spouse and build a nuclear family as industrial jobs sprout left and right. In seconds, however, all of that can dissipate. Fern lost her job and her husband in such a short time that her life came crumbling down and forced her to recreate how she lives.

Fern’s year-long adventure isn’t as solemn as the plot describes, though it does come close. Her travels are tied together by several other nomads living in near-identical situations to Fern’s. Some of these people are played by tried-and-true actors like David Strathairn, who plays David, whose name is the sole characteristic shared between the actor and character. Other actors, however, are simply playing fictionalized versions of themselves like Swankie and Linda May.

It wouldn’t even be a stretch to call those playing themselves non-actors. They are simply people who lived their truths in a deeply personal fictional tale. Fern’s quest for a home turns less into a search for a place, but a search for people who make her feel like she’s at home.

Fern’s relationship with David is never romantic on-screen, but the quiet passion between the two lead us to believe that in another stable life, they could have found peace together. 

Nomadland never wallows in its sadness and morose themes, but instead acts as a 100-minute recapitulation of a woman whose life has been shattered into a million pieces, but can’t be put together like it used to be.

Chloé Zhao’s latest opus shares very similar styles to her 2017 western The Rider. Both tell the tales of midwestern/western people whose lives change in a sudden dramatic way. Each character has, in their brief moments, layers of depth that make them feel less like side pieces in Fern’s tale and more like real people who are just trying to make it.

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Arts

Seascape Poetics: a virtual exhibition

Connecting Caribbean stories through water

Curated by Bettina Pérez Martínez and assisted by Simone Cambridge, Seascape Poetics presents the work of six Caribbean artists who explore the complex connections of Caribbean relationships with water. The virtual exhibition is hosted by 4TH Space, a programming research space, and the Curating and Public Scholarship Lab, an experimental gallery at Concordia.

Caribbean artists Deborah Jack, Joiri Minaya, Lionel Cruet, Nadia Huggins, Olivia Mc Gilchrist, and Jeffrey Meris engage in a virtual environment to depict the relationship of water with colonization, slavery, exploitation, and Caribbean identities.

The Caribbean has a complicated past as the region was colonized. The ocean surrounds many islands and is a keeper of the many colonial histories that aren’t spoken about. Hurricanes, slavery, colonization, memory and many other themes are explored through the artists’ work concerning the ocean.

The artists also evoke a sense of nostalgia derived from being away from the main homeland due to environmental catastrophes, exploitation of resources, but also tourism which affects the local people of islands that are taken for granted for private interests.

As stated on the exhibition’s website, Seascape Poetics engages in a form of digital placemaking where the Caribbean and its diaspora exists temporarily in a shared archipelagic space.

When entering the exhibition, viewers are situated under palm trees near a wooden house, with the sea on the horizon. On the next page of the exhibition, the sound of waves crashing and the coquí, a small frog that inhabits Puerto Rico, can be heard, letting the viewer enter into an unfamiliar environment.

The exhibition is set at dawn and takes place in a tropical environment, but not the tropicalized environment that corporations have produced to sell the Caribbean. Instead, it is an uncrowded space near the sea, depicting different ecosystems that inhabit the many islands of the Caribbean, such as mangrove trees, a type of small tree that grows in coastal waters. As all of the artists have different backgrounds, they share a space where they can draw connections in an environment that resembles their homeland.

The public can navigate throughout the exhibition with 360 controls, meaning that viewers can click and drag on the background to have a look at their surroundings. Each artist has a page to showcase their work, accompanied by a description. There is also a play button at the right of each artwork title, enabling viewers to listen to a commentary by Martinez and Cambridge.

The first art piece presented is Drawn by water. (Sea) drawings in [3] acts, Act One: Wait(Weight) on the Water (2018) by Deborah Jack, an artist whose work revolves around video and sound installations, poetry and more. This video installation, which consists of scenes of sea shorelines filmed in Saint Martin and the Netherlands, looks at memory, colonial history and climate change. The video is black and white, erasing bright colours to avoid tropicalization.

The second artwork, Labadee (2017) by Dominican-American artist Joiri Minaya, is a video that draws parallels between colonization and tourism, and questions whether tourism is ethical. The video starts with a Columbus narration in contrast to the perspective of a Caribbean Royal cruise ship sailing in the same sea that Columbus once sailed. The video was filmed in Labadee, located on the northern coast of Haiti, a private beach rented by Royal Caribbean Cruises Ltd.,  an American cruise company. Minaya also draws attention to the impact cruise ships have on the ecosystem and the way it’s being damaged.

Moving forward, Puerto Rican artist Lionel Cruet’s Flood aftermath and other hurricane stories IV and V (2020) is a painting created on a blue tarp, the same blue tarp that was distributed to local Puerto Ricans by the U.S. Federal Emergency Management Agency to cover roofs that were destroyed by Hurricane Maria (2017). This artwork depicts the aftermath of the landscape after hurricanes by showing abandoned houses. Puerto Rico is still trying to recover from the event.

Then, viewers dive underwater where they can observe the work of Saint Vincent and Grenadines photographer Nadia Huggins’s Transformations No 1 (2014), depicting two images: to the left, a self-portrait of the artist underwater, her face covered in shadow and on the right, a sea urchin that emerges from the artist’s face. This artwork is significant as it draws connections between human life and marine life, where class, gender and social norms don’t exist.

Returning to the surface of the water, French-Jamaican artist Olivia Mc Gilchrist’s video installation Virtual ISLANDS (2019) shows a combination of lakes, rivers and oceans, creating ambiguity between land and water with the use of a circular lens that submerges viewers into a virtual world.

The exhibition ends with Haitian artist Jeffrey Meris’s Mouth to Mouth (2020) installation placed on the shoreline to honour overseas migrants. This artwork consists of fibreglass resin and plastic bottles sustained from a steel frame, creating an abstract version of lungs, including concepts such as breath, memory, and displacement.

The exhibition enables viewers the opportunity to understand realities that they may not be aware of, allowing them to have a better comprehension of the many stories that the Caribbean holds in its archipelagic area.

Seascape Poetics is available for viewing at https://seascapepoetics.com/ until Feb. 26.

 

Photo courtesy of 4TH Space.

Categories
Arts

A Q&A with Yiara Magazine

 A quick glance at what the arts publication has been up to this semester

There’s no doubt that Zoom University makes it harder to engage in student life and feel like you’re a part of something. In an effort to make students feel more involved and aware of what student clubs are up to, we’ll be conducting a series of interviews with various student-run organizations.

Yiara Magazine is a student-run, undergraduate feminist art publication based out of Concordia. In addition to publishing an annual print issue, they hold events such as workshops and panels. Past events have included a zine-making workshop with California-based artist Chantal Jung. Through their publication, online platform, and various events, they aim to make feminist art and art history accessible to all.

To learn more about what they’ve been up to, our arts editor spoke to Amelle Margaron and Sara Hashemi, the editors-in-chief of this year’s issue.


TC: Aside from pandemic-related changes, what is Yiara doing this year that is different from previous years?

Yiara: Lots and lots of collabs! We’ve really worked with so many different people from our creative community so far this year: artists, collectives, professors, curators, and other student organizations … Another major difference is that we’ve hired an official creative director, Stefania Bodea, who has been creating incredibly groovy graphics to promote our events and callouts, very fun and fresh.

TC: Do you still intend on producing a print issue, or will you be going the digital route?

Yiara: We’re still publishing a print issue! We’re still working out the details on how it’ll be distributed, but it’s such a big part of Yiara that we didn’t want to let that go this year.

TC: Considering the current socio-political climate, what are some adjustments and changes that Yiara is making or is planning on implementing for future years?

Yiara: Considering the evolving definition of feminism is at the center of Yiara’s mandate, it is an important part of our annual direction. As such, we make sure to feature writing and art from a diverse range of voices, in an effort to portray an accurate understanding of intersectional feminism.

TC: What are some upcoming events that readers should look forward to?

Yiara: Our virtual exhibition for Vol. 09 will launch on March 19, and we’re super excited about that! We’re also working with the art history department on a virtual exhibition that would be hosted on Artsteps throughout the summer, and will be posting a callout for that once we’ve wrapped up everything with the print issue.

TC: For anyone who might be interested in contributing or joining the team next year, when can they expect a callout?

Yiara: We usually post a callout at the beginning of the new school year, so folks coming back next year should keep an eye out for that!


Those interested in submitting written or visual work to be published on Yiara’s digital platform can submit to Yiara online via yiaraonline@gmail.com. Submissions are accepted on a rolling basis.

For more information about Yiara Magazine’s upcoming events and annual print issue, or to know more about them, follow them on Facebook and Instagram.

 

 

Feature image: Yiara Vol. 8 cover. Courtesy of Yiara Magazine

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