Destination Marketing, an evening at The Dunes

The Dunes is noted both for its stunning gardens and
location overlooking the sand dunes of PEI.

Last night I had a memorable dinner at The Dunes with forty of my closest friends.  Ok, not literally.  We were a dinner party of forty from the Canadian Craft Federation conference but I've known most these folks since the 1980s, so there is some legitimate intimacy there.

We were touring studios on the island of red sand and then concluding our evening at The Dunes, which is a studio, gallery and restaurant operated by Peter Jansons and his partner.  I was genuinely surprised when Peter still recognized me with an exuberant, "It's Gloria Hickey!"  Arms flung wide.  That's Peter to a T.  Drama.  Flair.  Style.  I had discovered the man when he was still "Peter the potter".

The field of Canadian ceramics can be very competitive and it was going to take a lot of talent and luck to push the likes of Peter Powning off the "Peter the potter" pedestal.  Hands on his hips he exclaimed, "Where's that writer?"  I had disappeared to explore the gallery offerings.  Eclectic, multi-ethnic in flavour and some surprisingly large pieces.  I waved to him from a distance.  The place is that big.  Peter cajoles, "well you must have done something right (did I hear that correctly?) because look at me now."  Nobody would dispute that, the man is a success story.  He can afford gardeners.

 I've always thought Peter's real talent was being able to dream big and having the passion to persuade others.  I never saw him like other potters who were more about materials and process.  Clay, the wheel, or the extruder and hand building.  His work was about design and sensibility.  And his whole establishment today exudes that quality.

Take for example, the restaurant.  It started out as a cafe that was supposed to be serving sandwiches to tourists and it just kept growing and getting better.  And last night it was serving a full menu of mouth-watering meals to a crowd of 40.  Succulent maple salmon, quinoa with pomegranite, and fresh garden lettuces in rainbow hues.  And that was just my main course.

Interior view of The Dunes.

Now busloads of tourists make the pilgrimage to The Dunes.  They shop, they eat, photographs are taken and memories made.  This is the future of craft–or at least one variety of it.  It is like the flip side of craftivism.  The alternative to the do-it-yourself movement.  In some ways, this is the best of consumerism, which is different from materialism or the philosophy that defines happiness as "he (or she) who has the most stuff".

Countdown to the Heirloom Keynote

That's me wearing my Aunt Ella's aquamarine knuckle duster in red
 and yellow gold.  It's been in the family for a long time.

Well, I've put the ancestral bling away in the bank security box. I fished it out for inspiration while working on my presentation for PEI. I can't keep the ring and its matching pendant at home safely and although I am tempted to wear them to the Heirloom conference I won't.  I've lost an antique pearl and ruby ring and earring set once in Europe and that taught me my lesson.

I have been working hammer and tongs on my presentation.  At first it was a casual gathering of anecdotal material, which I always enjoy because it pushes me outside of my own narrow scope of experience and expectation.  And frankly people love to talk about themselves, so why not give them the chance.  I've always said to my son, "talk to strangers and you will learn something.  Just don't get in the car with them."

When I work on a topic it is as if I become a magnet for information about it.  Articles, experiences all seem to drift into a pile like wind-blown autumn leaves.  Yesterday, the new issue of East Coast Living landed in my mailbox with a feature story that I had written about Teresa Kachanoski's heritage home.  Ned Pratt did the photography.  Héritage is the French translation for heirloom.  For my presentation I tried to define the essential attributes of an heirloom, what makes it different from say a souvenir or a collectible, and then to illustrate those traits with the narratives people had so generously shared with me.

This photo was snapped by Teresa, which we sent to tempt
 the editor Janice Hudson.

I was also interested in how heirlooms accumulate meanings through successive generations and how that changes.  For that I used an example from my own life: how I had inherited my grandmother's Victorian drinking glasses, which my Austrian mother then put in Russian tea glass holders and I use to serve Turkish style mint tea.  In Turkey, I was fascinated by the chai boys who would materialize out of thin air upon being summoned with a clap of a merchant's hands.  (At the time I was haggling for kilim, flat weave Turkish carpets.  Craftspeople would rework salvaged pieces into carry bags and purses.  Was I a carpet bagger?)

 To my consistent admiration, the chai boys would come running with their trays.  I used to like to watch them round corners at high speed.  Somehow, no glasses got broken and a drop was never spilled.  I sweeten the tea with sugar that I ritually collect on vacation.  It is the only time I add sugar to a beverage.  I make the tea in a special Chinese teapot.  Significantly, my teenage son has his own handmade teapot.  It makes me hopeful for the future of craft.

When I went to highschool it was never like this

To my surprise my son asked if I had posted this on my blog and I said no it was on my Facebook.  But after hearing about the Rainbow Flag destroyed by some less tolerant students recently, I thought I should go for the blog too.

GSA in our house used to stand for Gay Straight Alliance, which my son has worked on in both Brother Rice and now Holy Heart. Last year, his September project was to encourage classmates not to tick off either male or female on the school forms. This year he reported that there is no more M or F but a blank line. And that the Queer Monologues book that I brought home months ago is now a textbook on his reading list. Gay Straight A-gendered and trans is really gathering steam.

If you see a new flag flying in some schools that is pink, blue and white that is the flag to demonstrate support for the trans and a-gendered community.

Some days I should wear a muzzle

This image is by Niurka Barroso from a Cuban-American photo
show.  Here's the link if you're curious
http://www.artslant.com/mia/venues/show/39154-cuban-american-phototheque-foundation

Part of my problem is that I am very opinionated.  I try to do my homework and research so that my published opinions have some foundation but ultimately so much boils down to subjective interpretation.  Combine that with persistent insomnia and life can get real interesting.

I was in a medical clinic not that long ago.  It was a rare occasion when I did not have a book to read or a notebook to scribble in.  So, I looked at the walls, literally.  They were a deep purple and had a few questionable reproductions mounted as "decoration".  One was butted against the ceiling, which was the most interesting thing about it.  I figured it was covering a hole.  Anyhow, in walks the staff person with the clipboard and reads my name off.  And I stand up and the words just jumped out of my mouth.  "Are you aware of how truly revolting the art is in this office?" I ask.  The receptionist chirps from behind her fortress of a counter, "now Gloria why not tell them what you really think?"  And finally a third staffer walks to usher me into the inner offices.  She adds, "Oh, I'm waiting for the TV reality program based on her life."  Well, thankfully we all had a good laugh.

This is a stock image titled Beautiful Business Woman.

I wondered whose job it was to buy the art and with a little inquiry I discovered it was the maintenance man.  Granted, he was no art expert and the WalMart art gave me an indication of their budget.  It was the visual equivalent of elevator music. The man had done his best.  Frankly, no one else seemed to be troubled by the "art" but then they were there everyday and probably didn't see it anymore.

I have had the opposite experience too.  There are offices–business, and non, private and public–that have good local art or art from away that has meaning for the people who work around it.  It is rewarding to look at on a sustained basis.

Anyhow, if anyone knows of a fairytale about a princess who every time she opens her mouth a frog jumps out, I'd like to know how it ends because someday that's the way I feel.

Confessions of a Jewelry Junky: Pamela Ritchie has got the goods

Yesterday was a big day at the Craft Council Gallery.  Not only did we open The Spirit of the Caribou but Pamela Ritchie's solo show From Time and Matter.   I have followed with great interest, the work of this jewelry maestro (a?) since the mid-eighties.  I think her work in a variety of jewelry media has real authority.  She knows how to pare down without losing an ounce of content.  In fact, it ramps up the impact.  I have a weakness for high-impact art.

The show is really worth a lingering visit.  So many ideas, beautifully stated and you can wear them too!

Pam Ritchie was a pioneer when it came to using non-gems in jewelry.

I was asked to write the essay for her show both here and in Halifax where an expanded version of it will appear at the Mary Black Gallery.  Kudos go to Sharon LeRiche for bringing Pam Ritchie's work and wizardry here -right now Pam is teaching a design workshop.  Susan Lee Stephen and I had the luxury of a long evening's chat with her to feed our fetish of Canadian contemporary art jewelry.

One of the things I felt necessary to state in the brief essay was that Pamela Ritchie works in series but that those series can go on for decades.  It is the kind of thing that is obvious to me because I watch how artists work but I have become aware that there is a misconception in many people's minds about the practice of working in series.  Folks seem to think they have distinct beginnings and endings and they rarely do.  I recall saying to some one recently that there were some things that only exist in art history books.  You know the "fill-in-the-blank  period" began here and ended there.

In my limited experience, creativity rarely travels in straight lines.   History is largely a construct that serves an agenda of one kind or another.  Making sense out of art, that is writing art history, isn't any different.  But that's just my opinion.

Energy by Pamela Ritchie conveys to me her love of science.

Here's my conclusion from the exhibition essay:

Pam Ritchie feels that "communication is so important to jewelry, whether it is that of politics, romance, status or visual expression."  That communication can be direct or indirect. But regardless of that direct or indirectness Ritchie strives to tell a story and thereby "facilitate a conversation through the media of wearable objects that could amuse, provoke or empower."  Pay attention to her choice of materials, be it a postage stamp or a gem stone; think about her choice of colours with its language of emotions and reverberation.  Then you will have entered into Ritchie's thematic world of myth and science, juxtaposition and static harmony. It is a whole world you can wear on a finger or on a lapel.

Curator: Santa Claus, Tooth Fairy and Midwife all rolled into one

This show is a co-curatorial project with Sharon LeRiche as my partner in crime.

I am not sure what I like best about being a curator: the intimacy with the artists and their process, building bridges of perception to the viewing public, or, or, or…?  It really could be so many things.  If you do it well, it is a little like making dreams come true.  A combination of being Santa Claus and the toothfairy.  Most often I liken it unto being a midwife –you don't have the baby but you help it be born. This year is the first year I have ever been a co-curator. For this show I am sharing the curatorial load with Sharon LeRiche.

Group shows are a different animal from solo shows or retrospectives and each pose their own challenges.  But I will say up front that I hate shows with weak concepts, that are irrelevant to society's needs and basically what I call dog and pony shows or Noah's ark show (2 of this and 2 of that).  A show is an opportunity to say something, so think, clear your throat and don't waste the opportunity.  In my books waste is the only sin.  (Which I believe the Prophet Mohammed said or at least that's the common attribution).

The Spirit of the Caribou has been especially satisfying to work on because of the depth of the concept and the vigour with which artists responded.  It's always a good sign when the artists come to you and ask to be considered because they are busting with something to say and an itch to make something about it.  The best concepts will elicit good work and not be sterile art theory (which I loathe).  In the case of this show, I can honestly say without exaggeration that some of the best artists have produced work that I fully expect will stand the test of time.  They will look back and say, "yes, that was my best and I am proud of it."

This is Kelly Jane Bruton at work on two pieces that are in the show.
Incredible work! What I love about Kelly is that she takes her work, but not herself,
very seriously.  Work ethic, research, technical skills and humour, she has it all going on.

Here's the intro from the catalogue essay:

The Spirit of the Caribou

Less graphic than the puffin, nor as political as the seal, the caribou nevertheless rivals the cod as a cultural icon in this province.  When the Craft Council Gallery put out the call for The Spirit of the Caribou it was clear that a nerve was touched.  It had a direct resonance with craftspeople and artists of many communities and interests:  historical and military, ecological and environmental and let's not forget pure childhood fantasy. The caribou has fed our bodies, souls and imagination for generations. But First Peoples first.

...............................

This show has 15 artists in it and I was allotted only about a 1,000 words, so saying something meaningful about the work was a real challenge.  I decided to dwell on the various aspects of the theme and how I saw them manifest through the works.  That way I was commenting on the work rather than setting myself up as an expert, which I never feel comfortable doing.  My job is to make viewers look more closely and keep thinking.  Eventually, I want them to reach their own conclusions.

This is a proposal sketch by David Hayashida.
 If you come to the show you will see how much it changed in the process.

Here's a list of who's in the show:  David Hayashida, Shirley Moorhouse, Jerry Evans, Deb Kuzyk & Ray Mackie, Kumi Stoddart, Nicola Hawkins, Kelly Jane Bruton, Jennifer Morgan, Maxine and Frances Ennis, Terry Nicholls, Jane Sasonow White, Curtis Jones and Susan Furneaux.

Make sure you join us next weekend at the Craft Gallery in St. John's.  There's going to be quite a herd of us.  I believe Joan Sullivan is doing a piece about it for The Newfoundland Quarterly.  Hurray for team Caribou!

Sweet Indulgences, Carnival Cravings

Indulgence was certainly the character of this year's sprawling extravaganza of happy art mayhem.  For a spectacular five days we could all we feel we had the Royal Jelly.  Eastern Edge staff Joe Fowler said it best when, brandishing a copy of the publication Sweet Tooth, he announced to the crowd of boisterous artists "you are the gooey goodness at the centre of all this."

It was hard not to believe, that except for the carnival theme, that this year's artists project were not a curated event.  There was a curious reciprocity between the projects of the invited artists that went far beyond superficial similarity.  It seemed that each project's performance played with our sensory perceptions and value systems– creating new shared spaces in old familiar places.

Michael Waterman's Sound Labyrinth plunged us into a pitch-black, tent-like interior at Christina Parker's Gallery.  The darkness forced us to attend carefully and puzzle over Waterman's sound installation.  Normally, I get caught up in the wonder of his mechanical inventions: the whirring, chiming, eccentric devices that make sound visible.  But denied this sensory data, the auditory events triggered by motion sensors took on a less predictable nature.  Waterman, who is exceedingly affable, referred to this installation as a kind of sonic house of horrors.  Smitten, I was only horrified at the one-night duration of the event and when one of the fiendishly clever machines accidentally caught on fire!

Donald Lawrence also cloaked us in darkness with his floating camera obscura at the Quidi Vidi Gut.  Inverted images, the reflective properties of water and Lawrence's skillful manipulations complicated the simple technologies to delicious effect.  A swell of interest at the dock meant that I did not get into a kayak to enter the installation but that gave me time to talk with others about their direct experiences.  There was appreciation for the opportunity to experience Lawrence's trademark fusion of urban and wilderness practice, its hybridity, which my brain turned into hyper-practice.  Another comment I cherished was that the kayak was like prosthesis for the body.

The body in motion, whether triggering Waterman's audio intervention, or being guided in a kayak would become a common denominator throughout the Carnival.  Andreas Buchwaldt's Accordion Exoskeleton was by his own description a full body prosthetic.  Its vents which curved around his joints and swallowed his face turned his physical movements into sound.  A man with a musical exoskeleton would be a welcome addition to any carnival sideshow, as were the dramatic fire-jugglers and surprisingly vaudevillesque bellydancers.

The sacred and the profane space created with artful body movement was also at play whether in the Weiner Sugar Dance Tent in the Eastern Edge parking lot, where Sara Tilley and her attendants Kyle Bustin and Elling Lien communed with riotous spirits and offered us sacramental candy.  You had to supply your own hallucinations.  Mind you, I think some of the motorists and tourists along the way between the EE headquarters and the LSPU Hall certainly thought they were seeing things.  A float with taxidermist bears with horns, a moose, biblically clad acolytes (plus baseball caps), bells, whistles and general revelry added to their confusion.  This was Charmaine Wheatley's downtown parade.  Her artist statement "literature" was rich with misogynistic biblical quotes urging us to burn seductive, freewheeling women.  That troubled me until I surrendered to the parade.  Then it became clear that Charmaine was a woman-artist-in-charge and concerned about younger women, who had not been part of my older generation's feminist fight or its necessity.  At that point, the parade for me became a Mardi Gras-esque opportunity to cavort with demons.  No whips, only ribbons.

Rachael Shannon's inflatible workshop gave us new skills.

What more soothing remedy could we have had to this outburst of Charmaine Wheatley's than Breastival Vestibule by Rachael Shannon? Rant and response.  Exhale and inhale. The Breastival was an inflatable architecture that temporarily took over the Craft Council parking lot.  It was a sanctuary of quiet conversation where visitors were asked to remove their footwear and enter its carpeted interior.  Shaped by feminist and queer politics it welcomed us like a huge breast.  Unbeknownst to Rachael Shannon, this parking lot has been a disputed area between sex workers, their clients and the downtown community.  Shannon's art was a powerful healing. 

These were some of the events of this year's Carnival for a more complete list of what happened please consult the Eastern Edge Art Gallery website.