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Projet Pangée presents Although the wind

A trip into Darby Milbrath’s daydream

The paintings might remind you of a place that you have already visited in your dreams, or maybe an image you have already imagined while daydreaming, perhaps on the road or in nature.

Although the wind is held at Galerie Pangée at 1305 Pine Ave. West. The exhibition takes you into Darby Milbrath’s imaginary world, where the public can feel a sense of comfort while admiring the paintings.

Milbrath is a Toronto-based artist that has exhibited her work nationally and internationally. In Although the wind, the oil paintings evoke a sense of nostalgia. In her works, viewers can admire imaginative landscapes and perceive a few figures in some of them.

Her paintings evoke memories of her childhood, when she spent most of her time with her sisters. Some of the pieces portray the landscape of the West Coast Gulf Islands, a group of islands in British Columbia, where she was raised.

“The paintings are memories of sacred places I’ve been to or grown up near, on the island, surrounded by the sea,” said Milbrath. 

Last summer, Milbrath lived on a farm on the west coast, on a small gulf island where she had time to work on her paintings. There, Milbrath was able to remember the times she spent on the island with her sisters. The smell of the fields and the images of the landscapes are part of her souvenirs.

At the exhibition, the works are displayed in three rooms; the big canvases are mostly together in one room, and the small and medium paintings are exhibited together in the next rooms of the gallery.

In the main room, an extraordinary painting can be noticed on the back wall: Starry Sky Over the Archipelago. It depicts a starry night with the moon shining in a dark blue sky. One could have the impression that the painting is moving. This sense of movement in her work is rooted to her background as a professional contemporary dancer. The artwork seems to project the tranquility of the night through various shades of blue. It is very dreamy.

Canvases such as Still Life with Apples and Still Life with Melons were painted with warm colors and contrasted by a dark blue background, emphasizing the fruits. The paintings depict inspiration that she takes from nature.

The Path is displayed between two long windows, which gives viewers the impression that there are three windows showing a mountain. At the bottom left of the canvas, there seems to be two women talking, surrounded by nature. Trees line a long path that looks enlightened by the light of the day. The road seems to lead the way to an unknown place, giving a sense of mystery and magic.

“This is where the magic emanates from and where I long to be, where I imagine I am if I’m not,” said Milbrath. 

Although the wind is in reference to Izumi Shikibu’s poem “Although the wind…” from The Ink Dark Moon, translated by Jane Hirshfield and Mariko Aratani.  The poem was recited to Milbrath by an old woman who owned the farm. The poem resonated well with her works in which she explores the concept of hope in darkness.

“She recited the poem to me about the moonlight and the ruined house and I thought about the barn,” said Milbrath. “How the wind howled through. How dying animals would find their way between the crooked planks to die in shelter.”

Although the wind is open to the public each week from Wednesday to Saturday until Oct. 31 from 12 p.m. to 5 p.m. or by appointment at 1305 Pine Ave. West. The exhibition is also available for viewing online.

 

Photos by Kit Mergaert.

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A conversation with Kent Monkman

The artist discusses his exhibition and Canadian history

Thousands of people from around the globe tuned in to a Zoom session held on Sept. 26, 2020 to listen to Kent Monkman speak. The interdisciplinary Cree artist is known for his provocative works, which explore themes of sexuality and colonization as a means of retelling contemporary Indigenous experiences.

Presented in partnership with Indspire and the Museum of Anthropology (MOA) at the University of British Columbia, the live discussion covered topics surrounding Indigeneous and Canadian art, reconciliation, and Monkman’s exhibition Shame and Prejudice: A Story of Resilience.

Indspire is a national Indigenous charity that invests in the education of First Nations, Inuit, and Métis people. By partnering with Indigenous private and public sector stakeholders, they “educate, connect and invest in First Nations, Inuit and Métis people so they will achieve their highest potential.”

The conversation was mediated by Roberta Jamieson, the President and CEO of Indspire — and the first Indigenous woman to earn a law degree in Canada — and Jennifer Kramer, Curator, at the MOA, whose work focuses on First Nations visual culture and with First Nations on the Pacific Northwest coast.

“I never set out, as an artist, to be an educator, but I certainly found myself stepping into that role with [Shame and Prejudice] because the erasure of these colonial policies was so effective that most Canadians are still in the dark,” said Kent Monkman at the virtual conference.

His exhibition, which was on display at the McCord Museum during the spring of 2019, revisits Canadian and Indigenous history through the eyes of Monkman’s gender-fluid alter-ego, Miss Chief Eagle Testickle. His book of the same name guides readers through the history of New France and the dispossession of Indigenous lands through Canadian colonial policies.

Accompanied by historical artefacts, his paintings and installations reinterpret, and make reference to, a multitude of well-known works, artists, and significant objects. Among his references is Caravaggio’s renowned 1604-06 Death of the Virgin, which depicts the Virgin Mary lying on her deathbed.

In Monkman’s version of the piece, titled Death of the Virgin (After Caravaggio), he swaps the Virgin Mary for a First Nations woman. In his 2016 work, The Daddies, Miss Chief Eagle Testickle poses on an iconic Hudson’s Bay blanket, surrounded by Canada’s founding fathers, leaving the viewer to raise questions about Confederation.

“I wanted to touch on very specific chapters of the last 150 years because so much of the art history told on this continent is told from the settler perspective and the art that’s upheld and hung in our colonial institutions, effectively, is an erased version; it’s like a version that omits Indigenous perspective and Indigenous experience,” said Monkman.

“That was what this project really set out to do, was to canonize and to authorize, into this history of the continent, Indigenous experience, both contemporary and historical.”

A Talk with Kent Monkman is available for viewing on Indspire’s YouTube channel here.

 

Photos courtesy of Chloë Lalonde

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MURAL Festival became an “Estival” during COVID-19

Even in the midst of a pandemic, art prevails

Montreal’s MURAL Festival was founded in 2012, beginning as “a love letter from Montreal to the world” with a goal to democratize street art. It is known for its celebration of the arts, with renowned artists from all around the world contributing and showcasing their live art, music, and exhibitions.

“We are the meeting place of creative minds and we represent the festive and innovating soul of a booming artistic scene,” its website states.

Whether you’re a tourist or a Montreal native, this annual 11-day event is an excellent way for people to discover great art and artists. During a normal summer, these festivities would consist of huge crowds attending music shows, talks, performance art and more. However, this isn’t a normal summer, and the MURAL Festival adapted accordingly.

Although the usual festival was cancelled, the Estival, derived from the French word for summertime, was created in its place. The MURAL Festival believed that even with this past summer’s conditions, it was important that people still had the freedom to express themselves and for others to take time to relax and appreciate the art. Only this time, safe distances were mandatory.

So, instead of an 11-day festival, the Estival would take place during the three months of summer, without gatherings of any kind. There would still be physical street work going on, but many of the music performances and conferences were streamed online so that citizens could watch their shows safely. Guided tours of the artworks were available as well.

Towards the end of August, I picked up my camera and explored the streets of downtown Montreal in search of large, beautiful murals. As a Video Editor for The Concordian, I decided to check out murals from MURAL Festivals of years’ past to make a video, but I also went to satisfy my own curiosity. I started on St-Laurent Boulevard .

Most of the art I encountered was in great shape; they were huge, bright, and beautiful. Some artworks, like Daniel Joseph Bombardier’s Denial, just off of Prince Arthur Street, had powerful messages embedded in them. Other artworks, likely because of their age, were damaged or covered up with graffiti in some way. Zilon, which was named after the artist, created in 2014 and located at the corner of St-Dominique Street and Marie-Anne Street, was covered in white and black spray paint, leaving only small parts of the image visible.

One thing I realized while documenting all of these pieces of art was the importance of street art. The MURAL Festival itself is a celebration of art in all its forms, but the murals that remained served as a subtle reminder to appreciate the art that we’re surrounded by. Street art is a way for people to enjoy cities and neighbourhoods, whether foreign or local to them, and, especially now, admire artwork safely outside.

Murals fill city streets with colour and life, and as someone who hasn’t lived in Montreal for long, murals help me see the beauty in the ordinary; a normal walk to work can turn into a walk through culture and art. Even amid a pandemic, the MURAL Festival was able to maintain its yearly tradition and add more art to the city. So, even though the Estival is over, and past Festivals are long gone, their stamps on the city remain, and it makes the world a slightly brighter place.

 

Photos by Christine Beaudoin

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Dear art industry, it’s not me … it’s you

Reflecting on art, post-lockdown

In the past six months, I have not visited a single art show, gallery opening, exhibition, or museum. Perhaps this is the longest amount of time I’ve gone without reading press releases, interviewing artists, or trying to find some sort of sociopolitical angle to approach an exhibition from. Yet, I have to admit… I kind of like it.

After spending the majority of lockdown being out of a job like many others, I have had tons of time to think about the art industry, which I have honestly always been quite hesitant to be a part of. After racking my brain about the place art holds in society, both amidst chaos and mundanity — and participating in both an internship and residency, alongside many other writers and artists, for the better part of the summer months — it is safe to say, I am not the only one who feels this way.

I do not believe this is solely a reflection on my evolving relationship with the art industry as a result of personal values. Rather, it’s a reflection on the circumstances that have caused the relationship itself to change. It has become clear that many others, and myself, are hesitant to make a career out of this. Not because we do not love art, but, well, because the industry doesn’t appear to love us.

The past few months have been eye-opening, to say the least. Among the things that have been on my mind is pay. When artists and writers are going unpaid for work that continues to get published, how can we be expected to stay? The fact that I get paid more (and on time) by student media is a poor reflection on the many institutions that hire writers and artists.

And don’t get me wrong, I’m aware that these were all issues before lockdown began. However, lockdown seems to have brought these issues to the forefront for most non-essential workers, many of whom have been struggling to get by (and many of whom struggle to get by, even pre-lockdown, without the help of a second, more stable job).

How can we not struggle when getting a decent job within the industry requires years of experience and multiple internships under our belts?

If it weren’t for the fact that I’m fortunate enough to still live at home, I wouldn’t have been able to participate in any of my internship experiences, all of which were unpaid. Even still, I had to work other jobs and pull seven-day work weeks to afford transport, cell phone bills, and other necessities.

Upon returning to work in July as a copywriter for an international online luxury retail platform, I was told by a coworker ten years my senior that I had made a great decision in opting to drop my second major in Art History. They added that even after ten years in the industry, they still hadn’t been awarded a raise or promotion and noted that I’d still be able to work in the arts because “it’s all about networking anyway,” and I’d “already made [my] contacts.” It is a sad reality, but a reality nonetheless. Years of studying and dedication won’t guarantee you a position unless you meet the right people. I guess that’s business, baby, as they say.

But even when you do land a position, where does this place you amidst today’s uncertainty and ever-evolving technological landscape?

With museums and galleries being closed for the greater portion of the summer, and exhibitions moving online, the role of museums was inevitably brought into question. What purpose do they serve when one can now access the entirety of most major collections from anywhere in the world for free? The value of these “prestigious” institutions seem … almost, dare I say … questionable.

Despite it all, art remains one of my favorite sociocultural forms of expression, and art writing one of my favorite types of journalism. I guess you could say it’s a love-hate relationship. While switching majors has proven to be a more viable option for me, based on my personal career goals, art journalism is still a long-term goal of mine. Until then, leaders of the art industry, you have some work to do.

 

Graphic by Rose-Marie Dion

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Nuestras Madres: an untold tale of resilient Guatemalan women

The film depicts the unheard voices of Guatemalan women that were victims of the civil war

Nuestras Madres, directed by César Díaz, a Belgian-Guatemalan film director who’s worked on multiple documentary films, takes place in Guatemala in 2018 during the trial of soldiers who started the civil war. Nuestras Madres won the Caméra d’Or at the 2019 Cannes Film Festival.

The Guatemalan Civil War, which spanned from 1960 to 1996, was a war between the Guatemalan government and leftist groups due to unfair land distribution. The war led to the killing and disappearances of many civilians, but also the genocide of Mayan communities.

Ernesto (Armando Espitia) is a young anthropologist from the Medical-Legal Foundation in Guatemala City working on the massacre of civilians and guerrilleros from the country’s civil war. One day, he is acquainted with a Q’eqchi’ woman named Nicolasa (Aurelia Caal) seeking his help to exhume the body of her husband, Mateo, who was tortured and shot by soldiers.

In one scene, Nicolasa shows Ernesto a picture of guerrilleros. Ernesto is shocked as he recognizes the face of his father, who disappeared during the war. He goes to his desk and comes back to her with a picture of his father as he tries to compare both faces from the photographs.

This leads Ernesto to embark on the search for his father and strikes a need to understand his disappearance. In the end, Ernesto will be surprised to know the untold story of his mother Cristina (Emma Dib) who kept her experience during the war secret from him.

Díaz did a remarkable job in illustrating stories that depict realities that many Guatemalans lived throughout the civil war. The movie is a testimonial to the many Indigenous women who suffered during the civil war as they were the main target during the early 80s.

The movie is filled with sincerity. Through the characters, one can feel the pain and the suffering that has lived inside the victims for so long.

A poignant scene from the film occurs when several Mayan women from Nicolasa’s village decide to give their testimony about the war to Ernesto, while he visits to dig up Mateo’s body. A series of women’s faces are then shown on the screen, each of them having a different portrait but sharing the same pain for several years. They were once living in silence; now, they are heard.

Their faces represent the many people who endured the atrocities of the war. They allow people from around the world, who’ve experienced similar events, to have the possibility of connecting with this community.

Díaz’s work is a recognition of the people who lived through the war and who are still healing from it. The movie serves as an opportunity for the audience to understand the way in which these events can be traumatizing.

Many viewers may be unaware of the Guatemalan Civil War. Nuestras Madres gives people the opportunity to find out how a war that is little spoken about can leave a country with disturbing memories and many suffering in silence.

Nuestras Madres  is playing at Cinéma Moderne on 5150 St-Laurent Blvd. The next viewing will be on Oct. 3. Tickets are available online. 

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Sharing archival material to make Black existence visible

A Harlem Nocturne presents the reflection of an Afro-Canadian artist Deanna Bowen

Consisting of research compiled in Vancouver and Toronto over the last four years by interdisciplinary artist Deanna Bowen, A Harlem Nocturne brings elements of the past to light that are still relevant in today’s society.  Bowen exposes material that reveals Black experiences that tend to be forgotten via video footage, archival documents, and even some of Bowen’s own family experiences, which she shares through personal videos and photographs. The exhibition is held at three artist-run centres on 4001 Berri St.: OBORO, Ada X and Groupe Intervention Vidéo (GIV).

Curated by Kimberly Phillips, a Vancouver-based educator and curator, the exhibition is divided into two different spaces. Each space shares elements of Bowen’s research work to the public. When entering the building, the sound of a trumpet can be heard; immediately visible is a projection named A quick riff, 2020 that was produced in residency with OBORO, an art production centre, with the help of Charles Ellison who specializes in Jazz Studies at Concordia.

On the second floor is Ada X, a bilingual feminist artist centre. This area presents three different choreographic transcriptions, Gibson Notations 1,2 and 3, 2019 , exhibited in lightboxes on the walls. Each one displays a different dance that was created by dancer and choreographer Leonard Gibson. These dances were originally performed in CBC’s 1955 variety show Eleanor. The show was hosted by famous jazz singer Eleanor Collins, who was the first Afro-Canadian woman to host a national broadcast television series.

These three choreographic transcriptions can be visualized in the darker space of the gallery alongside Gibson Duets, 2018. Reproduced by Vancouver-based dancers Justine A. Chambers and Bynh Ho, the piece is a re-animation of Gibson’s original dances that were performed on the show.

“[Bowen] was quite interested in trying to pull [the choreographies] out of the archives and have them live in another form,” said Phillips.

OBORO is located on the third floor. A small room in front of the entrance displays a four-channel video installation named On Trial The Long Doorway, 2017/2019. The piece is a re-creation of a 1956 CBC tele-drama The Long Doorway, the story of a Black lawyer who represented a white student from the University of Toronto that was charged for assaulting a rising Black basketball player.  Bowen’s great uncle, Herman Risby, played a supportive role, but no recordings of the tele-drama were found.

Fortunately, Bowen was able to use the original script and invited five Black Toronto-based actors to reinterpret the story. Viewers can see the actors engage with the script as they rehearse.

Moving on to the next larger room of the gallery is more of Bowen’s research. The room shows multiple works displayed on each wall, every single one of them informing the public about the presence of Black bodies in a settler colonized land. Some of these works exhibit Bowen’s own family experiences, where some family members were part of the entertainment industry.

A cast photograph of Vancouver’s Theatre Under the Stars from Finian’s Rainbow, circa 1953 depicts Bowen’s great uncle Herman Risby, and Risby’s first cousin Leonard Gibson. Both can be seen on the second row to the right in the company of jazz singer Eleanor Collins in the first row on the right.

“The photograph serves to remap places where Black people performed and make them visible in this community,” said Phillips.  

Give Me Shelter, 2011/2019 is a workbook transcribing an interview with Bowen and her mother, where her mother speaks of her experience with racial violence growing up in Vancouver. A picture of Bowen’s grandfather can be viewed in the open book. Bowen’s grandfather was a preacher who once had to give spiritual guidance to a young Black man who was convicted of murder and sentenced to death; an uneasy situation for him.

Another interesting work is a screen print titled The Promised Land, a reference to an episode from a 1962 CBC television series called Heritage, that told the story of a Black community that escaped racial violence and segregation in the United States who settled in northern Alberta at the beginning of the 20th century, only to experience the same anti-Black racism in Canada.

“She reminds us that even seemingly insignificant documents can be rich repositories for unintended readings, and for questioning who has been charged with writing our histories and why,” said Phillips. 

The exhibition provides visitors a map of the exhibition with descriptions of each work that are numbered. Reservations can be made online.

A Harlem Nocturne is on display by Ada X, Groupe, Intervention Vidéo (GIV), and OBORO at 4001 Berri St. until Oct. 17, 2020.

 

Photos by Alannah Morrison

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The Escapist: Lessons on fear and challenge

Climber and author Gabriel Filippi discusses the danger of comfort zones

As the first Canadian to climb Mount Everest three times, Gabriel Filippi has experienced both remarkable achievements and unbounded loss. Born in Lac-Mégantic, the undeterred mountaineer has been to over 40 countries and scaled six of the seven highest summits in the world, which he details in his book, The Escapist.

In 2013, Filippi, a team of 10 climbers and one guide were set to climb Pakistan’s Nanga Parbat. Recognizing the peril that lay ahead, Filippi eventually made the gut decision not to pursue the climb, keeping his daughter in mind. It was only after he returned to Montreal that he received the harrowing news: his climbing team, all 11 members, had been massacred by the Taliban.

Two years later, while at the Everest base camp, Filippi experienced Nepal’s worst disaster in history: a 7.8 magnitude earthquake that ended up killing nearly 9,000 citizens.

After jumping to the rescue of those around him and witnessing overwhelming death, he inevitably found himself heading home with the burden of survivor’s guilt. After seeking treatment for PTSD, he returned back to climbing, now with the recognition that “no climber returns from a summit the same person as when they began their ascent.”

Although he has experienced more adversity than one person could ever be prepared for, the ineffable allure of reaching a summit has been enough to steer him away from resuming the normal nine-to-five work week.

Since the beginning of the pandemic, Filippi has had to put off another Everest climb, but has been busy hosting virtual conferences and motivational talks. He hopes that the anecdotes and lessons he shares can inspire others to address their own challenges, especially those struggling with the conditions brought on by COVID-19.

“I see this situation like any obstacle that comes my way: let’s adapt,” he said. 

In terms of loss, Filippi knows he has no control over what the future holds, only how he can react to the circumstances that await him.

“On expeditions I have to let go of things I do not have control of. This will help me relax, be more confident and not make stupid mistakes under stress I shouldn’t have,” he explained.

As explored in both his book and through his motivational talks, Filippi has managed to reframe his position on fear and translate challenging moments into opportunities for resilience.

“I can’t say [my] expeditions are difficult. I prefer to say challenging,” he said. “For example, spending four nights in an ice cave at 17,000 feet on Denali with only two days of food and no tent wasn’t difficult, but instead challenging.”

Filippi has realized that in the face of dread, the best — and undoubtedly most difficult — thing a person can do is to confront the fears that plague them.

“On Everest we have to cross crevasses with ladders,” he explained. “The fear is present when you show up in front of the ladder, but to conquer that fear you need to take that first step.” 

He’s noticed that people tend to remain in their comfort zone because they’re so familiar with the security, without realizing how harmful a life of predictability can be.

“My comfort zone is my enemy,” Filippi said. “I don’t want to stay there too long because nothing happens.”

To learn more about Filippi and his adventures, visit his website or pick up a copy of his book The Escapist.

 

Photo by Gabriel Filippi.

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I’m Thinking of Ending Things: A bizarre time-bending ride disguised as a break-up movie

Im Thinking Of Ending Things. Jessie Buckley as Young Woman, Jesse Plemons as Jake in Im Thinking Of Ending Things. Cr. Mary Cybulski/NETFLIX © 2020

Charlie Kaufman’s Netflix Original is odd, complex, and thoughtful — in the weirdest way possible

Charlie Kaufman doesn’t want to spoon-feed us. If you’ve seen Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Being John Malkovich, or Adaptation, then you know that most of his films are open to different interpretations. If you haven’t seen any of these, then you’ll maybe be weirded out (or turned off) by the director’s newest Netflix movie, I’m Thinking of Ending Things.

Kaufman’s latest work, an adaptation of Canadian author Iain Reid’s novel of the same name, is a puzzling one to review. I don’t want to dive into deep plot details because that would pretty much ruin most of the enjoyment that comes from his off-kilter storytelling, but essentially, the movie is about a nameless young woman (Jessie Buckley) who’s been thinking about — you guessed it — ending things with her boyfriend Jake (Jesse Plemons). Before committing to this decision, the couple decides to go visit Jake’s parents, in the middle of nowhere, during a blizzard. From here, the only thing I can say that won’t spoil anything is that it gets weird.

I’m Thinking of Ending Things then takes a turn as the movie diverges from its more-or-less linear story and jumps from scene to scene, forward and backward in time, detailing key moments in both the young woman and Jake’s lives. At times, the main story branches out in so many different directions, it becomes difficult to figure out what’s real and what isn’t.

There’s no one true answer as to what happens in the movie. It’s important to keep in mind that you really should be paying attention to what each character says. Sometimes, a keyword from dialogue earlier in the film will be an essential piece in understanding moments that happen later. I’m Thinking of Ending Things demands to be rewatched. Kaufman’s storytelling is so open-ended that it begs the viewer to come up with their own interpretation — a task that may not be viable to complete upon a single viewing.

Every character in this otherwise small cast is fully fleshed out. You could not cast a more awkward couple than Jesse Plemons and Jessie Buckley. Both were fully invested in the oddities of their characters, such as the bleak intensity of the young woman’s recital of a rather morbid poem to Jake on the way to his parents’ house.  Jake’s parents, played by the wonderful Toni Collette (Hereditary, Knives Out) and the absolutely creepy David Thewlis (Big Mouth, Fargo), elevate the movie to surreal heights. The main cast feels at home in Kaufman’s film, but they aren’t weird for the sake of being weird. Every line of dialogue is essential, perhaps not to the story, but to the character development and overall understanding of the film.

I’m Thinking of Ending Things is yet another winning entry in Charlie Kaufman’s labyrinthine filmography. It requires patience, deep observation, and critical thinking, but at no point is it a slog or boring, despite its hefty length. The good thing is, it’s a Netflix original, perhaps the best platform for a movie like this to exist since it allows the viewer to watch the movie over again and pause it at critical moments to reflect on scenes they wouldn’t have thought about upon their first viewing.

There are multiple moments in Kaufman’s movie that call back single lines of dialogue mentioned earlier in the film. Some of which might be apparent, others, less so. All these idiosyncrasies are precisely what makes Charlie Kaufman a standout director.

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THIS IS WHAT COMPELS ME TO COMPEL THEM: Sharing experience, history, and identity

Tiohtia:ke/Montreal-based Black artists come together in Le Livart’s newest exhibition

This is an exhibition that no one should miss. THIS IS WHAT COMPELS ME TO COMPEL THEM introduces the works of 11 Black Montreal-based artists. Each artist shares a space with one another, challenging viewers with artworks that portray ideas of self-identity and integral experiences.

THIS IS WHAT COMPELS ME TO COMPEL THEM  was curated by Joséphine Denis, a curator and a writer, originally from Port-au-Prince, whose work focuses on Black, Indigenous, People of Colour (BIPOC) communities. The exhibition, which features the works of Esther Calixte-Bea, Clovis-Alexandre Desarieux, Eddy F., Stanley Février, Gloria François, Anick Jasmin, Mallory Lowe, Schaël Marcéus, Oski, Stefani Saintonge and Michaëlle Sergile, was created to bring together the work of Black artists in a space where they can share “inherited experiences of dislocation and displacement to form affinities,” explained Denis.

The gallery shares the same layout as a house, where each room is attributed to one artist or more. For instance, the canvases are displayed in the larger room of the exhibition whereas the photo collections and the sculptures have their own space. Every artwork sheds light on the personal narratives and experiences of each artist.

Entering each room is like being in the presence of a family member telling a story. 

In one of the rooms, Mallory Lowe, a photographer, art director, and Photography student at Concordia, presents her newest photo collection taken on 120mm film. Named What is this home that is home that is not home, the body of work explores her Cameroonian roots.

One of Lowe’s photographs depicts red clay dripping on a man’s back who is resting his head on a woman’s shoulder.

“The red clay is a reference to my father’s land, which is West Cameroon,” said Lowe, who is half Belgian and half Cameroonian.

The series of pictures helped Lowe question her own identity. She wonders what it means for her to live in Canada, a colonized land with parents of different origins. Lowe has heard problematic statements from her Belgian family, which made her reject that side of herself many times.

I came to understand that I need to explore and accept my white side and as a mixed person I have the privilege to choose the good aspects of each culture,” she said.

Next to Lowe’s photo collection, a small, long room displays the work of Stanley Février. On one side of the room, there is a long mirror with a colourless American flag carved in it, and on the other side, is a molded body of a man displayed on his back, both of his hands crossed. Made with white wax, the molded sculpture can be seen in the mirror, which seems to represent the violence against Black people in the United States.

“[Février] is very straightforward in his work,” Lowe explained.

The group exhibition also presents a series of pictures by photographer and cinematographer Schaël Marcéus that depicts images from his last visit to his native country, Haiti. Visitors can also observe the works of Gloria François depicting small photographs of family members and collages with archival pictures from the Centre International de Documentation et d’Information Haïtienne, Caribéenne Afro-Canadienne, located in the Old Port.

The title of the exhibition is in reference to an interview with Nina Simone from the 60s where she speaks frankly about the importance of Black identity and her responsibility to make Black people curious about themselves and connect with their roots, a theme explored in Denis’ exhibition.

“These works offer spaces to imbue ourselves with the visual, material, and cultural codes that establish commonalities between Black social experiences,” said Denis.

THIS IS WHAT COMPELS ME TO COMPEL THEM will be open at Le Livart at 3980 St. Denis St. until Sept. 27.

Photo by Christine Beaudoin.

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Les Encans de la quarantaine: from small project to big success

A collective shows how beneficial it is to support local artists

It all started as a small initiative to provide local artists with a source of income during the pandemic. Now, les Encans de la quarantaine has become something bigger. The outcome was unexpected.

Sara A. Tremblay, a Concordia alumna who graduated in Photography in 2014, launched the initiative in late March. The initiative is a virtual platform that promotes works from Canadian-based artists and offers a source of income to them by connecting them to potential buyers. When the project began, Tremblay looked for artists that wished to sell their artwork; it instantly became a success. Tremblay has received many artworks since the opening of the collective. Many came from artists attending universities, like Pardiss Amerian, an Iranian-Canadian visual artist who is currently completing her Master’s in Fine Arts at Concordia.

“I was constantly overwhelmed by the size of the collective. It became bigger than I thought,” Tremblay said.

Although Tremblay resides in the Eastern Townships, she was able to connect with Montreal’s artistic community easily online. Since the beginning, Tremblay has been working on the collective remotely with other members that reside in Montreal.

“It’s great to be able to work with the artistic community of Montreal and not live in the city,” continued Tremblay.

Little by little, Tremblay found people who would be willing to help her manage the collective. Tasks include drafting press releases, helping conceptualize the initiative, and managing the collective’s Facebook page and Instagram account. At first, applications were sent to her personal Facebook account. Instead, she redirected applicants to an email linked to the collective.

Over the course of the summer, lots of work started to pile up on Tremblay’s desk. In response to the collective’s growth, Tremblay decided to register the collective as a non-profit organization. She has an advisory committee from the artistic community to guide her with grant applications, and is in the process of creating an administrative council.

Since July 13, the collective has asked for a contribution of between $20 and $30 from both artists and buyers after each time a piece is sold to help fund the collective.

“That gives us a little money,” Tremblay  said. “It’s not much for now, but eventually we will be raising funds.”

As a result of the first call for applications, 425 artworks were received, of which 275 were selected. The collective took up the challenge of selling 96 per cent of the works chosen from the first callout. Most artists have many artworks, which gives them a chance to reach a wider audience.

For the second call for artworks, Tremblay wants to attract more of an audience of seasoned collectors, and will do so by increasing the quality and maintaining a tighter selection of works.

“The success that the initiative has generated proves that it was necessary to distribute, for free, the work of artists who are not represented by art galleries,” said Tremblay. “At first, we did present the work of artists that were already represented, but we had to clarify our mandate to not interfere with art galleries. Now, we represent independent artists that can be spotted by galleries.”

Tremblay will be teaching an introductory digital photography course at the University of Sherbrooke this fall and will participate in an online residency project called 3 fois 3 from le Centre d’exposition de l’Université de Montréal on Instagram. In order to stabilize her other projects, she has delegated some of the collective to other members of the team.

“My purpose is to promote artists that don’t yet have a platform. This can be a first step for them,” she said. “The people who follow us on social media have an interest in discovering new talents. Not all of the artists are new in showing their artworks, but they may not be represented by an art gallery. My team and I circulate art and that’s my goal.”

Les Encans de la quarantaine’s second call for applications is open until Wednesday, Sept. 30.

 

Photo credit: Pardiss Amerian

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Arts

Argo Bookshop re-emerges from the choppy waters of COVID-19

How one bookstore adapted to survive the pandemic

Argo Bookshop, Montreal’s oldest English-language bookstore, is returning to business and reaching readers in novel ways as Quebec’s lockdown eases.

After teaching linguistics at Concordia University and managing a successful YouTube channel, The Ling Space, New Jersey-born Moti Lieberman, together with co-owner Adèle-Elise Prévost, made the decision to acquire the bookstore from the previous owner in 2017.

Located on Ste-Catherine Street in the Shaughnessy Village, Argo, which opened its doors for the first time in 1966, was ordered to close on Mar. 23 like all other non-essential businesses in Quebec. The lockdown has since eased, and Argo is adapting to the evolving situation.

“We thought we could continue to serve as an anchor for the literary community,” said Lieberman. “Bookstores are really important features of communities, and without one I think this area would be impoverished.”

Argo specializes in books on linguistics, Japanese literature and books authored by LGBTQ writers.

“Diversity became a watchword for us,” said Lieberman. “Whoever you are, you can come in and see yourself reflected in the books that we are selling because we think it should be an inclusive and welcoming space. That’s really what we view the mission of the store to be.

“Our business model before [COVID-19] was really focused on the local community,” Lieberman added. Allowing customers to “come in and discover stuff which they wouldn’t necessarily have run into before is not possible now.”

In response to the pandemic, the bookshop offers its clients deliveries and curbside pick-ups.

“We had to really retool the way the business works,” Lieberman explained. “We had to cancel all in-store events for the year. We had a lot of stuff that had been planned for the summer, which was in a way the hardest thing for me.”

Instead of giving up on events altogether, Argo has been hosting readings, book clubs, and virtual author visits via Zoom for the past few months.

“In a way, we’ve expanded some of the people that we work with,” said Lieberman. “The vibe isn’t the same as having everyone in a room together and building an atmosphere that way together, but I think some of these events we wouldn’t have been able to do otherwise, like the one where we invited people from around the world.”

While the owners have found creative ways of reaching readers, Lieberman misses the store as it used to be.

“The thing that I miss most is the ability to just talk with people about books and about topics and authors that they’re really passionate about,” said Lieberman. “The way we have to do things currently is definitely a step down, but we felt that it was important that we would give people activities to do during the period where lockdown was happening so we actually extended our event range a bit.”

Argo is taking precautions to ensure the security of its clients, including regular handwashing, installing plexiglass screens by the cash register, and requiring the use of masks and hand sanitizer. The store is also implementing other measures like limiting the store’s capacity and discouraging browsing clients from handling books.

Despite the bookstore’s challenges, Argo’s delivery service has allowed it to reach new customers, especially in the months of April and May.

“A lot of people found us during that time who I don’t think were familiar with the store already,” he said.

Business has stabilized after a rocky start to the lockdown.

“I don’t want to say that we’re out of the woods,” Lieberman said. “But the support from the community and people who have been going out of their way to order stuff from us because they wanted us to continue being here… we’re really overwhelmed by it emotionally.”

What are Argo’s plans for the future?

“If we can make it through this, we would like to continue doing the sort of stuff we had been doing before and maybe get back to some of the initiatives for bringing in authors,” Lieberman said. “But so much is up in the air.”

For more information about events, visit Argo Bookshop at 1915 Ste-Catherine St W. or https://www.argobookshop.ca/.

 

Photo by Kit Mergeart

Categories
Arts

Tenet: it won’t let you breathe, but it’s beautiful to look at

Christopher Nolan’s love affair with time continues, with mostly confusing results

Christopher Nolan is infatuated with time. Many of his films have manipulated time in different ways to try to show his audience that it’s not as linear as we understand it to be. While some have delivered greater results than others, like Inception and Memento, it’s clear that Nolan has no interest in telling a straightforward story. Tenet continues this theme and it ends up being Nolan’s most ambitious, but also his safest, movie in years.

Tenet doesn’t let you breathe. From the beginning of the 150-minute film, Nolan showcases his characters in exposition-heavy dialogue scenes that try to advance the plot without spoon-feeding its deeper elements. Meanwhile, Nolan is throwing John David Washington’s character, literally called The Protagonist, in various scenes across the world as he searches for answers regarding his mission.

But even when Nolan does try to clear up the convoluted plot, you can barely understand what the characters are saying because of poor audio mixing, whispered dialogue, and Kenneth Branagh’s sometimes-incomprehensible Russian accent as the oligarch antagonist, Andrei Sator. When all you hear is bass mixed with murmurs, it may be a sign that the movie is too loud.

Without giving too much away, The Protagonist and Neil (Robert Pattinson) team up to stop a potentially catastrophic disaster that could end human life on Earth. That’s all I’ll say. But even with a central plot so simple, Nolan manages to make it convoluted while rarely offering a slower pace to absorb what’s actually going down.

Nolan directly implicates his love affair with time in Tenet as well,, but his interpretation of it isn’t as intriguing as it was in many of his previous films. In fact, his storytelling is so obscure that it’s easier to just accept the banality of the plot than to try and decipher it.

Yet, even with these story-telling plunders, Tenet remains captivating, largely thanks to a great performance from Washington and excellent action sequences that make the audience feel like they’re watching a scene out of some futuristic Call of Duty game. Yes, the action doesn’t stop, but because of that, it makes the two-and-a-half-hour movie seem shorter than it actually is. It’s a fun experience, but shallow.

Tenet is Nolan at his safest. He knows all he has to do is come up with an ambitious plot and expensive action sequences to get the masses flocking to the theatres (despite a pandemic). It’s by no means Nolan’s greatest film — in fact, it probably ranks among his worst — but it’s still a visual feat and a fairly good time.

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