More important and inspiring programming by the NAC
This winter, as part of the National Arts Centre’s programming for Art and Reconciliation, I Lost My Talk premiered. This incredible and poignant performance included the beautiful choreography of Kaha:wi Dance Theatre‘s Santee Smith and stunning visual design by Montreal’s Normal. Tomorrow evening I Lost My Talk will be part of three other orchestral works premiering as part of Life Reflected. The National Art Centre Orchestra’s Director Alexander Shelley “brought together four remarkable Canadian composers to collaborate with Donna Feore to create an immersive symphonic experience celebrating youth, promise and courage, revealed in the compelling and diverse portraits of four women.”
Tomorrow’s performance will include:
ALICE MUNRO – Dear Life with music composed by Zosha Di Castri “Dear Life” by Alice Munro, is a reflection on memory, childhood and the formative stages of life. The NAC Orchestra’s Dear Life was composed by Zosha Di Castri.”
AMANDA TODD – My Name is Amanda Todd with music composed by Jocelyn Morlock My Name is Amanda Todd tells the story of a vibrant 15-year-old who, after suffering for years from cyber abuse, spoke out against harassment and bullying on YouTube. Music composed for the NAC Orchestra by Jocelyn Morlock.
ROBERTA BONDAR – Bondarsphere with music composed by Nicole Lizée Dr. Roberta Bondar’s remarkable expertise as an astronaut, physician, scientific researcher, and photographer have been interpreted in Bondarsphere by Nicole Lizée for the NAC Orchestra through soundtrack and video.
RITA JOE – I Lost My Talk with music composed by John Estacio “I Lost My Talk” – by Mi’kmaw elder and poet Rita Joe, C.M. expresses her experience at Residential School. The NAC Orchestra’s I Lost My Talk was composed by John Estacio.
“In The Invention of Craft (2013), Glenn Adamson argues that while a hierarchy of artistic disciplines was established during the Renaissance, the modern classification of craft as distinct from fine art and industry developed between 1750 and 1850, during the Industrial Revolution. Fine art and craft have each acquired their particular histories, disciplines, discourses, methodologies, and iconic works. Today, we have inherited a set of persistent binaries that elevates art above craft and defines craft as “non-art.”
Photo of “Making Otherwise” Exhibit by Justin Wonnacott, courtesy of the artists.
In speaking with Heather Anderson, the curator for Making Otherwise: Craft and Material Fluency in Contemporary Art, I asked her if the (considerably more blurred) boundary between art and craft has always been of interest to her. “Yes,” she responds but now that she has had the chance to dive deep into the subject her interest has become more passionate. “You find some threads and you want to keep on pulling them,” she answers.
When you view this exhibit you can definitely see why. The show is full of work that makes you reconsider your first impression and move towards the pieces in an act of discovery – give your mind a little tug to unwind it all. Marc Courtemanche’s porcelain works deceive you. The installation is so convincing I feel that I can sense the density and weight of the wood as the grain is so painstakingly etched into the surfaces.
Paul Mathieu’s hand painted porcelain bowls play tricks with your eyes and illusions are created as you maneouver around their preciousness and precarious positioning in the gallery space.
Above and below photo of Marc Courtemanche’s “The Studio” (stoneware, porcelain, glaze, metal, rope) by Justin Wonnacott, courtesy of the artist.Above photos of Paul Mathieu’s “Odalisque Bowl, Ian / Edouard” (hand-painted porcelain) by Justin Wonnacott, courtesy of the artist.
Sarah Maloney’s Collapse is a chaise longue that dips with feminine curves but becomes anything but inviting upon closer inspection when you realize there are cast bronze flowers jutting up from the soft surface of the upholstery.
Above photos of Sarah Maloney’s “Collapse” (antique fainting couch, bronze, fabric) by Justin Wonnacott, courtesy of the artist.
Nothing is quite as it seems and the ‘craftiness’ of these artists to influence and cajole us into deeper reflection shows that Heather did a fine job in selecting talent from across Canada.
The work of Ursula Johnson encourages the viewer to unravel her deceptively straightforward presentation of woven busts. They are accessible, no glass case to separate. They are supple, constructed from curved strips of smooth wood. They appear uniform and seem almost weightless. The light colouring makes them very contemporary – like a succinct comment on a minimalist aesthetic. But the process by which Ursula has chosen to construct her busts is a deliberate act that binds her contemporary art practice to a tradition that reaches way back. Ursula learned the art of basket weaving from her great-grandmother, master weaver Caroline Gould, a Mi’kmaw elder from Waycobah Reserve in Nova Scotia.
The busts are woven with strips of black ash a wood whose current state has been categorized as an endangered species. It’s a wood that traditionally populated the East Coast, the Mi’kmaq territories of Ursula’s ancestors. The procedure to reduce the wood down to the essential strips is a laborious task. Fewer and fewer people have the how-to expertise. Ursula is one of the knowledge keepers.
The lightness of the materials conceals the weight of the subject matter. The busts are about the policy of assimilation – the convoluted categorization of Indigenous people in Canada by way of the Indian Act.
“L’nuwelti’k (We Are Indian)” is an ongoing series of portrait busts that memorializes individuals and explores Indian Registration and Membership Codes. Johnson called for volunteers who self-identified with a particular code defined by the Indian Act, such as “Male 6.1, Off-reserve.”
Unlike an assigned number that renders an individual’s personality, character and history invisible through the device of a constructed code, when seen as a collective, the busts actually shift in their contour and size, breaking the initial impression of indistinctness. Each bust speaks to the physical form of the sitter who has participated with Ursula. Ursula’s “de-briefing” process as the sitter comes out of the cocoon-like structure she weaves around them ensures that they are more than a number. Hidden from the sight of the viewer, inside the recessed head of the bust, is the person’s name and details of the encounter Ursula has had with them during a performance of her weaving.
Above photos of Ursula Johnson’s “L’Inuwelti’k (We Are Indian)” series (black ash) by Justin Wonnacott, courtesy of the artist.
It is amazing to watch Ursula weave, for many reasons – she is fast and efficient as well as full of grace. She is present with her participant and will do what she can to ensure they are comfortable and supported. Her performance is not set up as though on a stage separated from a crowd of onlookers but rather a shared experience of intimacy she has with both her audience but most especially her sitter.
As I witness Ursula’s performance at Carleton, the beginnings of the framework looks like the yarmulke worn by Jewish men. Soon it resembles the bonnet my Mennonite great-grandmother wore to symbolically identify who she was spiritually and the community she was connected with. Her choice to cover her head was what people would see first, perhaps making assumptions about what they thought she might be before discovering more about the woman she really was.
When completed it reminds me of the medieval chain mail armour that served as a means of protecting but also masking the identity of the men inside the metal mesh. Heather reflects on something a visitor to the gallery had said about how the busts look like the niqab worn by some Muslim women. She shared with Heather that she believed that the western eye is conditioned to see a Muslim woman who covers her head as part of an unknowable mass rather than as an individual. Heather remarks that “our tendency is to assume very quickly that we can’t differentiate but perhaps we can.”
And we should.
Making Otherwise ends this weekend.This great exhibit offers us a chance to see the art of craft and the politics of identity in a new way.
Above image of “Making Otherwise” by Justin Wonnacott, courtesy of the artist.
Images of Ursula Johnson performing “L’Inuwelti’k (We Are Indian)” at Carleton University by Leah Snyder for Mixed Bag Mag.
EDITOR’S NOTE: In the midst of researching and writing about this exhibit I was invited to join the CUAG Advisory Board. This came as a welcomed surprise. My experience with CUAG as a reviewer of their exhibits over the past year has been positive and I look forward to starting a different kind of relationship with the team at CUAG.
As more information comes to light about the past as well as the present impact of the Residential School System on First Nations, Métis and Inuit people in Canada more ways of telling the story will manifest.
This year Toronto’s amazing Indigenous film festival ImagineNATIVE screened two important films – Empire of Dirt and Rhymes for Young Ghouls – that although speaking to the same issues, such as intergenerational violence, stylistically differ. This makes for a deeper reach as each film has the potential to draw upon an alternate audience.
Mi’kmaq filmmaker Jeff Barnaby’s Rhymes for Young Ghouls is sleek but not without some grit. The soundtrack of obscure Blues tracks adds even more sexiness. I wondered if I would find this distracting from the character development and the weight of the subject matter. In the end I felt this movie fleshed out the varying perspectives that films like Empire of Dirt and docs on the program of assimilation of Canada’s First Peoples bring to the table. The heroine, Aila, is stunningly played by Mohawk actress Kawennáhere Devery Jacobs who roots the movie with her intensity. It is through her coming-of-age eyes we see the horror that is hard to breathe through but we also see the possibility of magic and hope expressed in her ability not to give up on the wonder of life.
During a Q & A with Jeff Burnaby after RFYG’s screening as part of TIFF Top 10 of Canadian Films a comment was made by a woman in the audience who had grown up on a reserve. She appreciated that despite the painful realities Jeff didn’t shy away from including humour in the film. She expressed that often that side is missing, that the portrayal of First Nations people doesn’t include showing anyone as having a sense of humour. Mi’kmaq actor Glen Gould, Aila’s father in the film, answered by saying that it is humour that has allowed Aboriginal people to live on despite hundreds of years of attempted genocide. Jeff replies that “humour is an important part of surviving through this as Aboriginal people” and because documentaries miss this element it was with intent that he made sure to add comic relief.
Jeff wrapped up his Q & A by stating that “it is up to all of us now, not just Native people, to carry the the torch.”
Hopefully with such films like Rhymes for Young Ghouls non-Indigenous Canadians will be inspired to share in the grace as well as the humour of their Indigenous brothers and sisters and work towards lightening the burden of the past as we all move forward into the future.
Toronto screening times Today: 1:50pm, 4:05, 6:20 and 8:35.
Following the 8:35 screening there will be a Q&A hosted by First Weekend Club and conducted by Anna Hardwick, followed by a casual cocktail/meet/greet at the Imperial Pub (54 Dundas St. E) with writer/director Jeff Barnaby, producer John Christou and actors Glen Gould, Brandon Oakes and Roseanne Supernault.