Long Live the Healing Power of Music

No, I did not go to the Bryan Adams concert at Mile One Stadium on Friday.  No, I did not go to the Steve Dawson concert at the LSPU Hall yesterday evening.  Yes, I was at the Coffee House Fundraiser at the Gower Street United Church.  And finally, yes I will be at the fundraising concert tonight for the Quintessential Vocal Ensemble.  If I can get two good things done at once and still have fun, that's the way I roll.  Every time I choose to spend money I ask myself, "is this the best choice?"

Not that we have to always spend money is our fair city of St. John's to enjoy quality art of all manner of descriptions.  The music crawls that occurred yesterday afternoon as part of the Lawnya Vawnya festival are just one fine example.  I held a door yesterday for a man toting a double bass and overheard the conversation he was having with a musician colleague.  I gathered the bass player was visiting and the other chap was a local.  "Things are different here," the bassist, said, "It's the quality."  "Oh, that's because we all go to each other's concerts here" was the explanation his host offered.  This weekend the musical offerings are so rich that you would be excused if you complained of musical indigestion. 

And to think, this came on the heels of Independent Record Store Day that fell on last weekend.  So, we were treated to more free concerts at Fred's Record Store in downtown, St. John's.

The concert I attended last evening featured nine acts who had all generously donated their talents in support of the Louis Jones-Bernard & Riley Anderson-Fowlow Memorial Scholarship Fund.  I know it did us all good to be able to participate in something productive after the tragic death of these two young men.  I am a staunch believer in both the professionalism of art and in art-for-art's sake.  However, I would be foolish not to acknowledge the healing power of art both in the lives of individuals and the community.

It can happen on the most basic of levels.  One grueling morning dragging ourselves through the Toronto airport during the Christmas rush just after dawn my then seven year old son was stopped by security.  It was on account of the instrument he had surrendered to the x-ray machine.  Andrew explained it was a viola.  The technician did not know what that was.  Andrew offered to demonstrate, to play.  And in a matter of seconds the airport security area was filled with a heart felt rendition of Beethoven's Ode to Joy.  Tears rolled down the cheeks of the Air Canada lady, applause from the attentive public was spontaneous.  The jittery, cranky crowd was transformed.  I looked down at my son (I could still do that back then) and said, "And that Andrew is why we need music."

Behind the Scenes of Proliferations Writing Andrée Anne Dupuis Bourret's exhibition essay

It started with my signing a contract agreeing to write an essay for Eastern Edge's main space gallery exhibit by Quebec artist Andrée-Anne Dupuis Bourret on March 24th.  My deadline for the text was April 4, 2014.  It appeared that I was being parachuted in to fill a gap by another writer that had gone a-wall for undisclosed reasons.  I said I was happy to help the gallery out.

To be honest, I was not familiar with artist's work so I was literally starting from scratch.  This was my first piece of information, it was the artists' show proposal:

The exhibition Proliferation explore new modes of spatial occupation for printed surface by questioning the way in which tools, interfaces and devices changes our individual perceptions of the world.

Andrée-Anne Dupuis Bourret have been approaching the creation through a reflection on perception and use of space. Her projects take on various forms : site-specific installations, paper works, artist publications. She has presented her work in several exhibitions in Canada and abroad (United-States, Israel, Australia). After receiving the Gold Medal of the Governor General of Canada for her master thesis project in 2011, she is currently working on a PhD on print art installation at University of Quebec in Montreal. She also teaches printmaking and writes two research blogs : Le cahier virtuel and Le territoire des sens.

 

When I started the essay I was possessed by pattern and its modularity.  Stripes went effortlessly from the animal kingdom to the world of digital information.  It seemed to be everywhere I looked.

This raised more questions than answers for me.  So, I went to check out her blogs.  Now I was cooking.  It was important for me at this stage to study her images, get a sense of intentions and her characteristic way of working.

The challenge in writing an exhibition essay is that the writer is basically working with something that doesn't exist yet.  The essay is growing along side the art work but often sight unseen.

My next step was to send Andrée-Anne a series of questions based on my observations of her blog.  I had decided to read her secondary material, in other words what other writers had written about, only after I had formed my own interpretation of her work.

Andrée-Anne was very throughtful and prompt with her answers.  Here is the list of topics we discussed: a description of the kind of module she was using as the key component she was creating for the show; it would be different from prior shows, the significance of its shape, her sources of inspiration and most importantly for my interpretation– hybridity.  What most intrigued me about this artist's work was that she was basically a print maker who made thousands upon thousands of prints that she folded by hand into 3-dimensional sculptural environments.  It took huge effort, amazing discipline and displayed real sensitivity.  The environment for the viewer was immersive and yet it was only paper.  I titled the essay Proliferations Modular Meaning, The Art of Andrée-Anne Dupuis Bourret.   And much to my surprise, at the opening, several people commented on how it helped them appreciate the art–even the sommelier, who graciously picked wines for the opening.

How to Write an Artist Statement

Customarily, this is the busiest time of the year for me work-wise.  It is a combination of spending by my clients that coincides with the end of fiscal year and the start of a new budget.  One of things I frequently find myself doing in Spring time is teaching workshops.  Writing skills for artists is the core with spin-offs for special interests, say point-of-purchase literature for those selling art or fine craft or those tackling grant applications.

Last weekend, I was teaching a three-hour session for the Clay Studio at the Craft Council of Newfoundland and Labrador.  Each time I teach a version of "How to Write About Yourself and Your Art" I update and revise my material.  On this occasion, I had fun using a roll-up-the-rim to win Tim Horton's cup.  My goal was to make my participants aware of how we are surrounded by language and how strategic our choice of language can be.  It was a good ice-breaker and we had fun.

One part of the handout that I use never seems to change and it is the section where I acknowledge the dislike most artists feel when it comes to writing an artist statement.  So, I thought I'd share a portion of that with the hope that might put someone out there at ease.

Artist Statements for Craftspeople & Visual Artists

I have never met an artist who enjoyed writing artist’s statements – old or young, experienced or inexperienced no one seems to like it.  But it is part of the job description and it does yield results.  Representation by a gallery or an agent, grants, exhibitions, sales – an artist’s statement will help you get these things.  Learning to write a statement will give you more control over the limited number of options and resources available to professional artists.

Most artists become white knuckled at the thought of writing an artist’s statement.  But there are 3 things you can do to make writing a statement easier:

1) The first step in taming your anxiety is to date the statement, make it finite. Cut it down to size; limit the risk.  The reason most artists dislike writing is that they’ve unwittingly blown the challenge out of proportion.  The purpose of the statement is to build a bridge of words between the artist and the viewer.  It is not an attempt to put down in words why you, the artist exists; nor is it required to recreate your artwork in words.  The statement is not a substitute for the art.  Both would be huge jobs, especially for someone whose prime fluency is visual rather than literal.

A statement lets the viewer know your viewpoint in their medium:  words.  It is your chance to speak up.

2) Focus on content.  Do not worry about how to say it, what the right words are.  Focus instead on what you need to say.  What is your message?  What you decide to put in a statement (& or a project description) is largely based on function.  Is the statement for a media kit or a portfolio?  What do you need to say?  What does your audience want to know? Credentials?  Technique? Are there advantages or disadvantages you should address?  For example, is there a rich sensory aspect to your work that an image alone cannot convey? 

See examples of how galleries are currently using artist’s statements in their communications.  Note your observations.

3) KISS, Keep it Simple & Short. Limit yourself to 3 points in a statement.  Why 3?  Three parts are sufficient to show that your thinking isn’t shallow or empty. It provides logic and structure, in short a plan. Three parts are enough to create a sense of movement, anticipation and suspense, vital to move your audience.  Three parts are easy to remember for both you and your audience. 

The Unique & Handmade Belong in the Digital Universe

This image comes from a U.K. potter and illustrator who does commission work,
contact info:  cmcgannillustration@live.co.uk

This week I spent a good deal of time learning and thinking about marketing and its relationship with the arts.  There are some basics of marketing that do not change depending on what you are selling, say, effectively communicating with your customer.  By the arts I mean everything from visual art to fine craft to music and beyond.

This week I was at two workshops that were sponsored by We Heart the Arts, a conglomeration of arts groups here in St. John's that meet to address common challenges.  The digital age has changed how we communicate with our customers in a profound way.  I am old enough to remember writing my first press release on a typewriter.  (Yes, that old.  But then I started just out of high school.  And I lost my first job in a communications office because of a typo.)  Anyhow, what has happened is that today anybody in the arts dependent on an audience or client base is expected to know how to communicate and sell across a mind-boggling array of digital platforms.  Blogs, Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, just to name a few.

Holding on for dear life, expresses how many feel dealing with the digital.

Not surprisingly, there is resistance among some in the cultural community.  As professionals, be they textile artists or musicians, they have spent long hours–sometimes decades–learning their craft, and largely that craft is based on hand skills that haven't changed for centuries.  Their sense of value is entrenched in the handmade and the unique; their products, whether it is a sound or a product that you can hold in your hand is theirs alone and extraordinary.

By contrast, the world of the digital is driven by numbers and the potential for a massive audience.  Large corporations that seem impersonal– almost alien– govern it.  It is easy to think of this as an extension of the fight against technology or as a generational divide but I think it goes deeper than that.  The resistance to the digital that some in the creative community experience is not a matter of age.  It is more of a worldview or a culture unto itself.

However, I think it is a mistake to label potters or violinists as dinosaurs.  I'd go so far as to say that the unique voice or perspective is an ideal match for the digital age.  The digital universe thrives on the individual. It is part of the evolution of technology but in the same way that cable TV opened up the broadcast industry to the community and local content, the digital universe is hungry for content providers regardless of size.  In order to survive, it has fashioned itself to accommodate the small provider as well as large organizations. Take this blog as an example, which is a free platform for a single voice – mine. The digital universe requires a multiplicity of voices.  It is a big monster to feed.  I don't think we should be thinking about slaying the monster.  Just riding it.     

A Neriede nymph has tamed her monster.

Too Many Words!–The Tattoo Dreams of a Sleep Starved Curator

I don't know about you but I wake up in the middle of the night with words or images racing through my mind and then I have trouble falling back to sleep.  Thankfully, it doesn't happen every night.  But suffice it to say that sleep deprivation is used as torture because it works.  When I get exhausted, I run languages together.  I'll start a sentence in French and end up speaking German.  I have always been pretty good at Fron-glaize or Eng-deutsch but my subconscious seems to be cooking up a new hybrid, let's call this one Fron-deutsch.  Anyhow, the point is my brain needs more sleep to function properly.

The words and images of the dreams are usually thematic examples of whatever is preoccupying me.  It can be something as simple as how to say "Happy New Year" in Mandarin, some odd factoid of astrophysics, or a tattoo I've been thinking about.  I know I am in trouble when I have tattoo dreams because they aren't going to go away anytime soon.  And they can be of anything. 

This photo was one of the first cover images to grab my attention.
 Zombie Boy was featured in Rebel Ink.

Quotes, song lyrics, Marvel comic heroes and (let's not forget) serpents animate the tattoos.  My recent favourite is vigorous scroll-work by John Pinsent that I saw "growing" up someone's arm.  It reminds me of the Book of Kells illustrated manuscript and sure enough when I asked the owner, he showed me the other arm with a modest-sized Celtic knot and his daughter's name.  In my mind, I classify this as Celtic tribal.  For some reason, most of the really good tribal work that I see here in St. John's seems to come from either Montreal or Singapore, with two notable exceptions.

I also dream exhibitions.  There is a dream version of my More Than Skin Deep exhibition.  In St. John's, it is at The Rooms and I have persuaded all my newfound biker friends to circle the building with their Harley's and custom built beasts.  This I recognize is a reworking of the funeral scene in Until I Find You.

In Ontario, it the show is at The Burlington Art Centre and we have skateboarder dudes and dudettes performing amazing stunts.  But at Montreal, it is at a swanky photography gallery and we have nude models tastefully strutting their ink.  Zombie boy is our celebrity guest and the DJ, David-A, does our music.  I am seriously going bananas.

This is in New York State, not my photograph, not my lawn.

There are days that I have joked that I should have a sign on my door saying, "no tattooed men need apply" because of the odd things that happen on my front lawn and at the convenience store.  The other joke is that I have become TattoosRUs because I have become a magnet it seems for tattooed related images and artifacts.  Friends offer to photograph tattoos on their vacation to Bora Bora; a friendly curator from Maine (whom I meet in New Brunswick) tells me about her historical collection of flash art.  Don't get me started on the delightfully odd things that complete strangers say to me …and, they even know my name.  

Why Would You Want to Write About Art?

Sheila Perry shared this image of a sculpture in Belgium on Facebook.  She pointed out to me how it was integrated with its site and that would be an important aspect in a discussion of the artist's concept in my opinion.

I have been teased me that I should write a book titled, "The View from the Velvet Pedestal".  That title would refer to my experience as a child model for artists and it was how I paid for my art classes past the introductory stage.  What was significant about the experience is that it was during that phase of sitting there naked on the velvet cube that I realized I didn't need to make art.  I was fascinated by watching art being made and noting the decisions that were being made all around me in the studio.  Trying to understand how the artists were processing what they were seeing and creating engaged me more than taking my turn at the easel or mound of clay.  I had already been writing–everything from short stories, plays and poetry–but now I had found something I wanted to think about as well.  The fusion between my passion for ideas and words had melded with my passion for art.

Not surprisingly, when it came time for a boyfriend, he would be a scholarship student at the Museé des Beaux Arts.  We went to gallery openings and read the newspaper reviews.  Typically big mouthed I said, "surely, I can do better than that".  And not long after, I became an art critic.  Somewhere in between, I had won a writing competition, earned a community newspaper column and a CBC TV summer gig.  So, it was a matter of shifting from writing social commentary to becoming an arts reviewer.  That was more than thirty years ago and I have continued to publish.

Yesterday afternoon a bunch (about eight) of us earnest arts writer types got together in response to Mary MacDonald's invitation.  With flourish she posted in Facebook the "First Meeting Ever! of The Crossroads Society of Arts Writing".  Well, you know we would feel energized and important with a name like that.

This delightful pair of images was what Mary MacDonald used as illustration.  She's a great visual thinker.

It is an informal and supportive group.  We hope to stir the pot and encourage some new writers to step into the uncertain breach of writing about art, provide feedback to those writers who seek it, and generally help fill a vacuum.  With typical sarcasm I joke that I am an endangered species as a writer who seeks to offer an educated opinion about current art practice.  I am more than happy to have others to join me.  I personally think that especially in this digital age of social media, where the artist can exert such a strong presence, the impact of art criticism is mitigated.  Whether a critic likes or dislikes a show is irrelevant.  At the best of times, it is the reasons for our subjective decisions that are useful to others who are interested in art.  Still, I want it to be done well and professionally.

Another reason why writing about art is on my mind is that the Clay Studio at the Craft Council in St. John's has asked me to lead a half day workshop for artists Writing About Yourself and Your Work. I plan to offer an aftercare service to help artists take home the information and actually apply it. It is part of the Off the Ground Professional Development Series.  My workshop will take place on April 5th and for more details see this link:

http://www.craftcouncil.nl.ca/media/uploads/Off_The_Ground_Brochure.pdf

Getting a review that is relevant often starts with having an articulate artist statement that is clear about the artist's intention and the proper context in which to view the work.  The gallery going public looks to the world of words when it comes to feeling safe and in the know about what they are looking at.  Give them words that are honest, accessible and useful and everybody is ahead of the game.

Happy St. Patrick's Day - Not

I have a vivid recollection of grinning like a chimpanzee at two Portuguese sailors in the produce section of my local grocery store.  It was shortly after I had moved from Toronto to St. John's nearly twenty years ago.  Both the sailors and I were a little puzzled by my expression but upon reflection I realized what had happened. I had experienced an involuntary reaction to hearing a foreign language.  It was a remedy to a specific kind of culture craving.  I had enjoyed a wash of well being after months and months of being in a vanilla, Anglo Irish environment.  Born and raised in Montreal and living there, Ottawa and Toronto had done nothing to prepare me for St. John's, largely, monoculture.

My how the cultural landscape has changed here.  Yesterday evening I attended two multicultural events and found myself dancing with folks from 27 different countries. Chances are if you live in St. John's, have a first name that ends in a vowel and like to dance, I've danced with you.  I have been at dance parties that featured DJs from India, Pakistan, the Congo and Cuba just to name a few.

Luben Boykov pouring molten metal for a sculpture

With an airport in Gander that used to be the refueling point for many international flights, Newfoundland and Labrador has had its share of political refugees from East Europe and Cuba.  Sculptor Luben Boykov is an example of one such transplant.  And the metal working community here was never the same after Boykov established his bronze foundry.  Similarly, we have inherited several amazingly trained Chinese painters, which boosted hyper realism here.  You could make a long list of artists who are come from aways who are also influential in the visual art scene.

Diana Dabinett is originally from South Africa and is noted for lush paintings of NL sea life.

This year Memorial University of Newfoundand and Labrador has 2,000 students from foreign countries on campus.  Some of those will find jobs or marry a local and stay.  I wonder what impact that will make on our cultural profile.  I know one woman who earned a Phd in folklore here who brings in jewelry and sculpture from her native Nigeria.  She jokes that despite her education– like her mother before her– she still makes her living selling her wares at the local market.

If you are like me and have champagne taste but only a beer budget, multicultural communities are a god-send.  When I lived in Toronto, each Christmas I would pick a different neighbourhood to do my gift shopping; for example: India town, Little Italy, or the East European communities of High Park.  Last night here in St. John's, I went to events where the cover fee was only $5.  I bet the locals drinking green beer at the "Irish" pubs in town spent a lot more.