Monthly Archives: March 2021

Not Going to Buenos Aires

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My favourite mask right now is one that announces Not Going to Buenos Aires.  (Let’s pause here and consider that a year ago, you’d be scratching your head, wondering what I really meant by my favourite mask.  These days,  wearing a mask in public is almost second nature – an essential item on the mental phone-keys-sunglasses list as we leave our homes.)

Not Going to Buenos Aires masks

On occasion, it elicits comments like I wish I was going to Buenos Aires and I like your mask. It’s fun to explain that it’s the title of a group art show in which I am participating.  If people seem interested, I pass them this postcard with all the show details.

Not Going to Buenos Aires group art show postcard invitation

Trish Shwart  formulated the idea of this art show.   The project was a great way to connect with other artists around a theme (longing, uncertainty, impossible dreams) that I find compelling, she says.

Mid-year 2020, and several months into the pandemic, Trish invited several artists in Victoria, BC  to consider our participation.  Her introductory proposal outlined possible themes:

Going to Buenos Aires     In March (2020) my husband began talking about going to Buenos Aires.  Even though he knew it was impossible to travel during a pandemic he was adamant we would go soon.  Why not embrace this crazy idea, I thought.  Imagine going somewhere green and beautiful.  Buenos Aires began to be a fantasy stand-in for somewhere wonderful.  It stood in total contrast to the reality of our covid society.  I started to yearn for what it represented.

To help imagine more clearly what it would be like to be in Buenos Aires, I started doing some research and my imaginings were disrupted by some hard truths.  Because of the pandemic, citizens of Buenos Aires are going hungry and becoming homeless.  There are strikes and civil unrest.  The economic disparities have grown and for many there is a great degree of economic and physical instability.

So what does it mean to be going to Buenos Aires?  What we imagine.  What we long for.  What we think will bring positive change into our lives is not always simple.  Can a yearning for green and beautiful exist alongside the difficulties of others?  Is that in fact how we humans cope with challenges?  By ignoring some aspects of it?

These images explore the dual nature of yearning.  Of longing for the unattainable. And of considering how what we yearn for, long for, is not necessarily a reality.

I jumped at the opportunity to explore these themes.   The pandemic gave me time – lots and lots and LOTS of time -to wish, dream and hope in the context of devastating world events.  Examining the concepts of yearning and longing appealed to me.  Trish provided us with vocabulary, a framework and deadlines (!) to process and express some of our losses as well as our dawning insights.

Over the course of a handful of mercifully efficient Zoom meetings, we distilled the theme and revised the title of the show.

Not Going to Buenos Aires artists' Zoom meeting

Not Going to Buenos Aires artists’ Zoom meeting

Not Going to Buenos Aires  

Six artists inquire into the complexity of yearning to be anywhere other than the ‘Here’ of a pandemic shutdown.  From settling in to the gratifications of solitude to the restless urges for escape, and all points between, this show reflects their stories.                            

These stories show the diversity of their thoughts and feelings and will surely prompt viewers to consider their own responses to these restrictive times.  If you’re not going to Buenos Aires, where are you going?

It’s fascinating to see the unique responses from each artist.  Six different artists produce six different interpretations, although overlapping concerns emerge.  Joanne Hewko says that Before the pandemic, I loved to plan trips and travel….the feeling of anticipation and discovery. I  realized that travelling, especially by air,  is a privileged activity that has consequences environmentally and culturally….it is something that I can no longer take for granted.

Trish notes that the pandemic created an ideal opportunity to reflect on how the environmental degradation that is the norm is beginning to shift how our world will be.

The Air was Still and the Sun was Out (detail) Trish Shwart, acrylic on wood panel

The pandemic has affirmed my conviction of the interdependence between humans and the natural world.  It’s a deadly example of the connection of the micro to the macro in all things.

bred in the bone (detail), Terry Vatrt, etching, embossing, chine collé

We’ll talk more about the artists’  ideas and experiences in future posts.  In the meantime, if you’re interested in more images, and reading our artist statements, you can visit the Not Going to Buenos Aires website.

In one week you can visit us in person, too. ( Covid protocols in place, of course.)  Let us know where you aren’t going – just yet.

 

Celebrating with The Frick and The WAG

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The Art Caravan is celebrating…in a covid kind of way.  A year ago we started posting regularly – every two weeks. (Our initial, and very tentative post was in February 2014, with sporadic postings until 2020.)

Re-reading the March 2020 post reminds me how little we knew about life in a pandemic.  Sigh.  Be reassured this post is NOT going to discuss the all-too-familiar challenging and horrendous circumstances of the last twelve months. Instead, we are going to mark this anniversary (of sorts) with gentleness, one of the strategies Dr. Pauline Boss recommends, to survive in a time of loss. She recommends doing things we enjoy, participating in rituals and being kind to others.

The most recent edition of Cocktails with a Curator: Rembrandt’s Self Portrait aptly kicks off our celebration.  It’s a perfect blend of art, ritual and kindness.  If you are a regular reader of The Art Caravan you will know that I am mad for Rembrant’s Self Portrait at the Frick.  I make a point of seeing it whenever I visit New York City.

Rembrandt van Rijn, Self Portrait, 1658, The Frick Collection

I wondered when this masterpiece would be featured on Cocktails with a Curator, one of the four (4!) video series produced by The Frick Collection.  (I also enjoyed The Frick Five video series, which resulted in excellent daydreams and  interesting conversations.  Skip the Netfl*x and go to The Frick’s You Tube channel, which offers a plethora of worthy choices.)

A virtual visit to an artwork isn’t the same as experiencing it in person, but I enjoyed the presentation by the always erudite Xavier F. Salomon, the chief curator at The Frick.  He outlines the history and context of this self portrait in Rembrandt’s life.  I may not agree entirely with his interpretation of Rembrandt’s self-depiction, but the discussion adds to my appreciation of the painting.

The Frick adapted well to the harsh realities of a pandemic. It generously (most programs are free), and regularly shares its art and expertise through innovative online programming.

If you’re in the mood for more celebrating (and who isn’t?) The Winnipeg Art Gallery opens Qaumajuq, its new Inuit Art Centre, this week.  (Here is the post from January 2021 with more information about this gallery hosting the world’s largest collection of Inuit art.)  The WAG is kindly inviting us to a two part, virtual opening to  celebrate the new 40,000 square foot space.

Qaumajuq, Winnipeg Art Gallery, cbc.ca image

I encourage you to open some bubbly, and salute The Frick and the Winnipeg Art Gallery.  Despite the formidable difficulties presented by a pandemic, both institutions continue to contribute to society in innovative and meaningful ways.  They unstintingly provide easy access to art, beauty, differing cultures, ideas and a myriad of educational opportunities.  They are worthy of our appreciation, praise and celebration.  Cheers!

 

Dear Frank (Mikuska)

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A very special abstract artist, Frank Mikuska, died recently.  He is significant to me because I had the privilege and good fortune to work alongside him at Martha Street Studio in Winnipeg.  I was in awe of him;  he was decades older than me, retired from his professional career and respected by established artists at the studio and in Winnipeg.

In our days in the studio, Frank taught me an important lesson.  One morning in particular, when I was expressing some doubt about making art (the  why am I doing this?  what’s the point?  kind of moaning) Frank matter-of-factly said to me  Just do the work.  He didn’t wait for a response, or further discussion. He immediately turned back to his inking table and continued working.  Problem solved.

So it was no surprise to read  Frank’s response to questions about his time making monoprints at Martha Street Studio. This is what he said in a detailed interview with Gallery One One One at the University of Manitoba:

All of the material was there; it was just a matter of doing the work. This is a carryover from what I was already doing, while I was working for the Corporation because I had to learn back there how to do things quickly, choice of image, and also the ability to say stop, stop the work, make a decision that the work is complete. That’s always come with me and I still think in those terms. I never sketch, so when I start working with these prints, it was a question of “here is a palette, start doing it.” It just kind of fell into place. The images came very intuitively.

Frank’s studio workspace was always organized, compact and clean – no small feat for a printmaker working with multiple colours of oil-based inks.  I recall how he carefully wiped every tube of oil after use. He worked quickly, efficiently, and thoughtfully.  Powerful abstract images emerged from his methodical process.

Discovery, Frank Mikuska, monoprint, 2007

Discovery, Frank Mikuska, monoprint, 2007

Divergence, Frank Mikuska, monoprint, 2004

Divergence, Frank Mikuska, monoprint, 2004

Frank treated me as an equal in the studio.  It was a tremendous gift to me – an emerging artist – but, I think, an integral aspect of his genuine respect for others and the creative process.  In the interview he also describes the atmosphere in the studio:

Working at the print shop was just phenomenal. I was captured by the number of people who were working there and they were working in a traditional sense. After a while, they were looking over my shoulder, they were looking over each other’s shoulders, and as a result, there was a terrific exuberance, people making art; printmaking. I was really happy then, no doubt about that.

Working at Martha Street Studio was a happy time for me, too.  Frank became an unofficial mentor.  He encouraged me, provided feedback, and even shared end-of-the-day ink with me.  Working with his palette for fun eventually influenced a whole series of my own work.

In reading Frank’s obituary, and the UM interview, I discovered how little I really knew about him.  We briefly discussed our shared Slovak ethnic heritage, but I wasn’t aware that English was not his first language.  I remember hearing he had a career at the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation but I didn’t know that when he started, in 1955, he was one of the very first graphic designers at the newly launched CBC Television (Winnipeg.)

Frank’s contributions to the art world were significant. In one of his collaborative projects, he won the Prix Anik Award for Graphic Design of Soundscapes  for Trenody – Music of R. Murray Schafer. He exhibited in several significant group shows of Modernist art in Canada.  Frank also never mentioned that his work is in major collections, like the Museum of Fine Arts in Montréal and the Winnipeg Art Gallery.

The brief video  Mikuska: Original Monoprints by Frank Mikuska by Ron Sloan provides a very good survey of Frank’s monoprints as well as biographical information, including rare examples of his fabulous work at the CBC.

I am happy to have one of Frank’s monoprints in my home. An acquaintance once asked How long did it take him to make that? The question was posed with a wry smile and my kid could do that attitude.  I was very happy with my calm response.  A lifetime, I said.

Dear Frank, thank you.  You did the work, and you shared it with us.