Tuesday, July 26, 2011
"An afternoon at Deep Cove" by Philip Willey
Mary and Moses….religious connotations? Well maybe. Certainly nothing too dogmatic. Perhaps spiritual is a better, broader, more inclusive word….maybe you would even call it Pantheistic if you were lucky enough to find yourself in Mary’s forest garden this weekend. Mary was Mary Martin, the owner of the property, recently deceased. Moses from the name of the street. Christine Clark, currently resident, turned the place into a sculpture garden.
Eight artists had accepted her invitation to create al fresco. Inspired by the beauty of the location they rose to the challenge and produced some remarkable responses. Debora Alanna’s white assemblages looked perfect in the pond…like an opalescent Monet…the sunlight helped.
Some Amish Kapoor blue objects in the grass by Tyler Hodgins suggested a tent city seen from a plane window. Todd Lambeth’s row of stakes, coloured from black to white provided a sharp counterpoint to the lush abandon of the natural surroundings.
And there on some steps leading down to the beach Troi Donnelly had juxtaposed some bright plastic objects. Twisted words on closer inspection. Nobody questioned it. We sensed instinctively it was all part of the great cosmic scheme.
One wonders what timid forest creatures would make of it all. (I know Christine has a rodent problem so I must be careful here) Do they come out at night and stand in awe of human accomplishment? Or do they see these creations as convenient places to nest? Bela may well know the answer but he isn’t telling.
The Mary and Moses Sculpture Garden Show
July 22,23 & 24, 2011
Moses Pt. Rd., North Saanich
Victoria, BC Canada
Monday, May 23, 2011
Outside In at the Ministry by Philip Willey, May 2011.
Post election time. Results are in. Oh Canada! It’s as if your heart says Roy Green but your head says Robert Bateman. Definitely an anxious time for artists. What next? What cloud is looming over the post-election horizon? Will art writers be sent to re-education camps? Will artists be rounded up and forced to work in the tar sands? Does this mean the end of finger-painting in Canadian kindergartens? Seeking answers to these and other vexing questions I sought the company of like-minded individuals. And what better place to do this than the Ministry of Casual Living.
Happily the Ministry seems immune to government cutbacks. The Minister himself was available for consultation so I asked him what the future held for casual living under the Conservative majority. Well, he said, we will probably take a wait and see approach. Our mandate will continue to be to serve the local community to the best of our ability. A very diplomatic answer I thought and very reassuring. Next I asked him what he thought of Debora Alanna’s art work in the foyer. He liked it he said, there is something theatrical about it. I agreed. The piece consists of a large flowing length of fabric dipped in cement to which polythene has been added along with a few touches of colour. It strains at the confines of the space. Yes, said Debora Alanna, there’s no denying the space is congested. It wants to get out. That’s why she called the show ‘Outside In’.
Exclusivity bothers her. In an artist’s statement she describes the Ministry of Casual Living as being “…cloaked in intrigue. As is Victoria in general, as it pertains to its art and artists. There are pockets of activity and secretive cliques that share what they do with the public in a limited way. Perhaps all art communities have a kind of mystique. Not a native of Victoria, I found this to be particularly true here. I wanted to demonstrate how I felt in relation to the community here. The MOCL is ideal as it allows a site-specific work to show a sculptural depiction of an art myth.
The interior spheres are what is inaccessible, visible from the outside(ers) point of view through the plate-glass window. The swathing of the exterior of MOCL allows a sensibility of inclusion without providing true access.”
Perhaps that can be said of any city. Art communities can be cliquey. Or perhaps she is articulating that feeling artists get of being exposed, vulnerable to public scrutiny. In a broader sense it’s about the way artists react with society. Are we outsiders looking in? Can we ever be fully integrated? To me there is something elemental about Alanna’s installation. Like Rodin or Kapoor. When powerful forces are constrained within objects three dimensions hardly seem enough. It takes enormous courage to do something like that. It’s dangerous work. Like looking into a volcano. You never know when lava is going to burst through the surface. Certainly there is nothing bland about Debora Alanna or her work. They have presence. They fill space, defying the void.
Debora Alanna
“ Outside In “
Ministry Of Casual Living
May 21 to 27, 2011
1442 Haultain St.
Outside In: Debora Alanna
2 Votes
Outside In
from Buffet, a Review by Debora Alanna
“Ian Rorie built Hunter-Gatherer with plywood, and fastened a trap, labeling it, so we would know what lurked inside, lighting the way to entrapment. Sustenance begins with death of some kind. Whether it is the reaping of grain, produce and gathering of the harvest or hunting the animal to produce the sustenance of the meal, there is the death, transformation and nourishment, ultimately. But is this really what is happening here? As Baudelaire points out in his 123rd poem of Les Fleur du Mal, “Death… Will grow the flowers of their brain!” Death, personified as the hold that cannot be captured, grown and gathered will, when we are faced with this fact, allow ideas to manifest. Artists must let imitation or misrepresentation die or die creatively. Rorie presents the diversionary plotting we must struggle with, and face to overcome trepidation. We must hunt out our nemesis, gather our wits, be aware of contrivance and allow our minds to feed us. Be hungry and you will capture what you need”.
And here we have her first exhibition of work in Victoria since 1973; a draping, swathing, theatrical (the word has been used) sculptural installation viewable both outside and through the windows at MOCL.
With a budget of $42, much of the material was found or donated. The fabric she used came from another artist’s studio space; homey scraps she liberated and transformed with a coating of grout compound. No longer colourful and flower patterned, the fabric is grey and pebbled, highly suggestive of classical sculpture; fraught with a powerful undercurrent, perhaps sexual, and immediately reminiscient (to me) of Daniel Laskarin‘s now beacon now sea.
now beacon now sea is a steel chair riddled with bullet holes and draped in a silky grey cloth; the very image of violence and romance; the swirling cloth, the explosive scars of penetration (of bullets ripping into steel), a sense of yearning.
Something similar is happening in Debora’s work, Outside In. A yearning, not exactly romantic, but desiring to be so. The materials and the space almost preclude romance. Inside of MOCL, the air smells strongly of mildew and it’s cold, bone chillingly so. The materials are not expensive; the gallery space is not pristine; in fact the work itself is not vaunted. She gets a week to show and barely anyone came to the opening (although the people who did brought wine). The connection to Laskarin (and his precursors) has everything to do with the essential emotion, the central experience of yearning.
The violence , though, in Outside In, is the effect of reality; it’s not a theatrical affectation, an idea to muse over; it’s truly present, possibly within Debora’s life, but certainly within her art making.
Daniel welded his chair in his very tight and bright backyard studio space and he shot the gun (many times over). Perhaps shooting bullets into a steel construction is an invitation to chaos and the unexpected, but essentially he was in control of his process, his materials and in the end, the exhibition space as well, the AGGV, although not directly controlled by Daniel, is certainly a controlled environment. It’s clean, there are bathrooms, and guards. People paid attention to the work. A lot was written.
Debora doesn’t have a studio space. She needs a job. She made the work over the course of two days right at the gallery. She had to bend to the structure of the gallery (the cement walls, the claustrophobic size) and to time.
It’s impossible to think of the violence of poverty, the poverty of materials, and space and attention, without thinking about vulnerability. The delicacy and the fragility of art made of bits and pieces, and installed temporarily is almost heartbreaking. Also the sweetness of faith, in the process, and in the need, in spite of any perceived privation, is almost unbearable to imagine. There is a wonderful quality to the work that speaks of living rather than enduring, and although it’s difficult to contemplate, it is very inspiring. Poverty is brutal; poverty destroys dignity. Poverty is cold and dirty and requires scrambling for the necessary. Debora’s eyes are closed, I think, to poverty.
Outside In is incredibly beautiful, and I wonder, is it poverty that is beautiful? The making of something from next to nothing? The insistence of making in spite of poverty? I don’t know. I don’t think so. I think the spirit of beauty is there, inherent and relentless, regardless of any void.
Another kind of violence, perhaps.
