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Manitoba: supernovas, Jan 27 —
May 14, 2006, Winnipeg Art Gallery
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| Paul Robles: You are the
Everything, 2003 — 2005, from a series of 24 paper cuts on vellum,
each 35.5 x 28 inches |
supernovas is a return to the age-old theme of
renewal, etched out a decade ago by the Winnipeg Art Gallery in its Sit(E)ings:
Trajectory for a Future and more recently by Plug In in its Young
Winnipeg Artists
exhibition. Audiences of aceart inc, Plug In ICA, Cream, Platform,
Video Pool, Gallery 1C03, the Franco Manitoban Cultural Centre or
Winnipeg's annual fundraisers will recognize many names and artistic
gambits amongst supernovas's 29-artist roster.
Renewal can be a tricky and imperative business. The
weight of
permanent collections and academic influences are pervasive in
institutions which have the dual function of maintaining historic
collections and presenting the very best and the very new. For young
artists, the opportunities for being showcased or noticed can weigh
heavily on their hopes and dreams. In supernovas, influence is
overdetermined. Paradigm shifts, trends, and influences come from many
directions, not the least of which has been the mythic success of
Winnipeg artist Marcel Dzama of the Royal Art Lodge. An exhibition of
this scope can only be a sprawling, uneven, and redemptive affair. To
the credit of its curators, Shawna Dempsey and Lori Millan, supernovas
is all these things.
Many theories have been advanced to explain the vibrancy
of
Winnipeg's art community. Low rent. Distance from the perceived art
centres of Toronto or New York. Isolation, long winters, and dark
basements (both metaphorical and actual). To these I would add an
active sense of pluralism, tolerance, and democracy fostered by
multiple institutions and activist artists. As for the art, virtually
all media are represented in supernovas — performance,
painting, drawing, textiles, video, film, photography, sculpture, and
installation. Many of the materials are deliberately quirky or
scavenged. There are fabric dolls, vinyl columns, woven dictionary
pages, tiny pen and ink sketches, slick collages, intimate
watercolours, air brushed and stencilled paint lids, torn-off book
covers, even a bronze dog with a motorized fan.
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| Susie Smith: Action
Figures: Frida Kahlo, 2004, series of 25 multiples, screenprint on
fabric, each 36 x 15 x 5 inches |
The terms of engagement — pornography, the multi-channel
universe,
print culture, commerce, identity, our deteriorating environment — are
clearly felt and held. Reach may exceed grasp, expressed intentions may
not match outcomes, and earnest citations of sources might irk just a
little, but, it's a fun show with lots of pizzazz. The gallery walls
are upbeat in primary hues, and the brilliant catalogue by Zab Design
exudes the exhibition's sense of celebration.
With an unprecedented 1,500 attendees, opening night
energy was
palpable.The art on the walls was upstaged by the press and mass of
human flesh. Artist tamara rae biebrich, blowing air kisses as part of
her Social Butterfly performance, greeted our group of three
teenagers and two twenty-somethings. The fifteen-year-old quickly made
a beeline for Shawna McLeod's series of six framed pages from the
artist's sketch book inscribed with meandering tattoos, angels, and
musings. The sixteen-year-old was enamoured with Chris Cooper's Purifier,
a realistic bronze dog with a motorized device under its head to
generate fresher air.
My interest was divided between a half dozen excellent
works. Paul
Robles's startling series of twenty-four paper cut outs mounted on
vellum combines traditional Asian floral, zodiac, or landscape motifs
with references to contemporary violence, sexuality, war, and clip art.
Adam Brooks's vivid paintings, such as his portrait of celebrities Katie
and Tom,
offers a more mediated experience, characterized by deft handling,
tight composition, and garish sensationalism. Michael Stecky's
videotape Harmaline functions just under the radar with its
sense of novelty, fantasy, and intimacy. Richard Hines's photographs of
domesticity combine the best of formalism with a light-filled emotional
intelligence. A public re-reading of soft porn reverses the habitual
private/public divide in the vinyl banners by Liz Garlicki, and
graffiti artist Fred Thomas cleans up with his haunting installation, Blemish
— transgressive stencil art, where paint and rust meet on the
degenerating and encrusted surfaces of found objects.
A show of this size lends itself to comparisons across
media and theme. Each time I return to view supernovas,
I discover the insights and perspectives of a different set of artists,
and am persuaded perhaps by just a little bit of that stardust.
— BY Amy Karlinsky
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