Inside the Artist’s Studio

I’m in full-fledged production mode (hence my lack of posting recently). Friend and creative dynamo Jennifer Hamilton invited me about ten days ago to show some of my art at the Central Stamp and Seal store on Park Avenue, here in Montreal. We had been discussing another project relating to rubber-stamp art, and within ten minutes we had organized a stamp-art exhibition at Visual Voice and set up a show for me at Central Stamp. Talk about efficiency.
So, I had some rubber stamps made featuring Amelia Earhart and spent the last week or so enthusiastically printing away. I decided to make some more Mail Art, since rubber stamps, envelopes, air-mail and an aviator all dovetail beautifully.
Here’s a sample of what I’ve been up to:

The show runs from August 7 - September 4, 2008 at Central Stamp & Seal, 3418A ave du Parc, Vernissage: August 7, 6:00pm - 8:30pm.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll have to go back to work.

I had noticed the young man with his typewriter, sitting on a stool in a shop entrance on Ste-Catherine Street a few days ago. I had glimpsed the signs which offered “poetry while you wait” and asked for “donations here”, but by the time I decided that I should investigate further my feet had carried me a few blocks down the road.
So yesterday, walking a little more slowly, I passed the young man again and decided to check out his poetry stand.

“How much for a poem?”
“It’s donation based. Whatever you decide.”
I decided on ten bucks.
“Anything specific?”
“Something about astronomy.”
And immediately he started pounding the keys. After about five minutes he handed me my poem:

We chatted a bit. His name is Allan Andre, and he hails from New York City. A professional poet, he also writes songs and is a musician who occasionally goes busking. He’s spending his summer in Montreal with his poetry gig.
I was impressed with Allan’s work for two reasons. One, because he can actually produce serious art, on the spot, with people breathing down his neck. And two, because what he writes has real content. His “Astronomical” poem carries a profound message; it’s more than pretty words, it’s an opinion piece. I may even work it into my “We are Stardust” series.
So, if you see Allan hiding in the shade somewhere, hitting the keys of his ancient writing machine, make sure you stop and ask for a poem. You won’t be sorry.

I had just about touched down in Montreal after my two-week trip to Germany when preparations started for the Festival International Montréal en Arts (FIMA). My gallery is partnering with FIMA, helping the festival to attract a more international component. So, starting with the FIMA dates and continuing through the month of July, Visual Voice Art Gallery is presenting Mariana Escribano, a painter from Mexico, and Maria Idilia Martins, a sculptor from Venezuela. The exhibition is titled Kaléidoscope Latin - you can read more about this show in the Belgo Report here.

left: Mariana Escribano, right: Maria Idilia Martins

Besides providing a down-town location for the festival, I also contributed in another way: this year I awarded a Discovery Prize to one of the participating artists at the FIMA. I must say, it was a pretty easy choice. Partly because I thought that about 85% of the artists exhibiting at FIMA this year were very main-stream, some extremely kitschy (borderline tacky), with few fresh, new ideas. Which made the artists I ended up choosing stand out even more. I immediately fell in love with the works by Christophe Heldt and Florence Hupin.

This creative duo combines their talents to create stimulating, innovative prints which are part photography, part screen-print. The Discovery Prize is an exhibition of their work at the gallery, so look out for Heldt and Hupin’s work in the 2009 season at Visual Voice.

I’m back in Hamburg, visiting my family whom I haven’t seen for nearly two years. It was about time I showed my face again before my nephews completely forget their crazy aunt from Canada. These kids grow like weeds! And they keep beating me at table tennis, which is starting to be a bit embarrasing…

My mom, who’s also an artist, has already booked a visit to a private art collection for this Saturday, and I’m looking forward to the huge Rothko exhibit which is currently running at the Hamburger Kunsthalle.

Mmmmmh - herring!

In the meantime I’m being stuffed with Kuchen, Strawberry cake, and pumpernickel bread, so I really feel like I’m back home. All I need now is a Fischbrötchen, which is a pickled herring in a bun, ironically, this is the Hamburger version of a Hamburger. No fries.

All this to say that posting will be a bit more infrequent in the coming two weeks, but I’ll try to keep you up-to-date.

It’s official - there’s an art gene in our family. My aunt Britta Steinmann has been painting full-time for a few years now, slowly moving from more academic work to an abstract, modernist style. She has just launched her new website, re-vamped and full with her latest creations.

Britta Steinman, left: “deep blue”, 100cm x 100cm, right: “Wolkenreiter 1″, 80cm x 100cm, both acrylic on canvas

Check out her site Phoenix Art Studio - Gallery. So far, my favourite series of hers is Di Passagio (Passing Thru), a series of large-format abstracts inspired by clouds, earth, wind, and fire.
If you happen to be in Dortmund, Germany, make sure you check out her exhibitions Venezia meets New York at the gallery of the Stadts-und Landesbibliothek Dortmund (from May 20 - July 1, 2008) and Aufkreuzen in Telge at the Rathshaus in Telge (from May 8 - September 7, 2008).

I’ve just finished a self portrait. I needed something to do during the weekends at the cottage (besides playing golf and drinking too many glasses of red wine) so I opened up my little studio above the tool shed for the summer and got to work.

Bettina Forget, “Self Portrait #1, Inside My Studio”, acrylic on canvas, 20″ x 20″, 2008

I hadn’t spent too much time in my rooftop atelier recently. It’s not winterized, so it gets too cold in winter to work there. And last summer I had a bit of a rodent problem - every time I left the studio the mice were dancing on the table, leaving their little droppings behind (everybody is a critic…). But since the shed had a new roof installed my workspace has been doo-doo free, and I moved my canvases and paints back in.
So while my family stretched their legs under the table after a long lunch or headed off for a quick nine-hole, I retreated to my little atelier and got my brushes out. The portrait is pretty straight forward, loosely based on the technique I employed for the Amelia Earhart series. I think it turned out okay, and I may do a few more. By the way, my Facebook friends may recognize the photo I worked from.

I’ve just returned from a pilgrimage to New York to see the 2008 Biennial at the Whitney. My friend Bob is a Biennial regular, and since I had missed last year’s Documenta in Germany I was jonesing for a major art show.
I hadn’t been to New York City in years, and I had forgotten how awesome this city is: the canyons of skyscrapers, the flashing lights, the fantastic people-watching potential. Bob and I got to NYC on Memorial Day, and the entire city was on vacation. Central Park was packed, there were a million kids milling about eating ice-cream and playing tag, and, my favourite, there was a Rollerskate Disco in full swing. New Yorkers sure know how to kick back and relax.

I should probably have checked out the Whitney’s website before heading off. I had simply assumed that museums are closed on Mondays and open all other days. Not in New York! The Whitney is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays, pushing our Biennial visit to Wednesday, our last day in the city. But hey, this is the Big Apple, and there’s plenty to do. We checked out the Metropolitan Museum, where we took a guided tour through the Islamic Art display, visited the Modern Art halls, and finished off with a visit of the Superheroes: Fashion and Fantasy exhibit. My favourite, though, was the Jeff Koons exhibit on the Met’s roofgarden, both for the brilliant balloon-dog sculpture and the amazing views of the New York City skyline.
Bob and I also checked out the Hayden Planetarium’s Rose Centre, which is impressive, if a bit too well loved (ie bits of it are falling to bits). We dropped in late on Monday, so the visit to the Rose Centre was free by then, but we’d missed the Planetarium show. We returned on Tuesday to see the show only to find out that we’d need to pay entrance for the entire museum (Natural History and Rose Centre) to access the Planetarium. We decided that $22 for a half-hour show was a bit steep and left. It’s really too bad that they don’t have separate ticketing for the Planetarium - I wonder how many visitors they loose because of this arrangement.
On Wednesday we finally toured the Biennial. The best I can say is that I found it mediocre. These are the words I scribbled in the margins of my sketchbook:“self-indulgent, obscure, over-interpreted, visually déjà-vu, messy”. If it hadn’t been for the explanatory panels next to each artwork, about 80% of the exhibits would have been completely undecipherable. The visuals weren’t communicating on their own merits. What bothered me even more, though, was that nearly every text included references to other, well established artists such as Cindy Sherman, Edward Hopper, or Josef Albers, as if to validate the work on display. And more often than not, the artists being referenced had preciously little to do with the actual artwork.

There were a few works I did enjoy, though - it wasn’t all bad. I liked Rita Ackermann’s plexiglass sandwiches, Jedediah Caesar’s resin slices, and the Bauhaus-inspired works of Mika Tajime. By far my favourite, though, were the sculptures and photographs of Charles Long. He took photos of bird poop (Herons in particular) which he noticed during a walk he took along the river. The droppings evoke the forms of people, somewhat Giacomettiesque. He then re-interpreted these forms in three dimensions and created huge sculptures out of papier maché, incorporating various discarded objects found at the riverbank. It looked as though the sculptures had just been digested. The effect was stunning, and the concept self-evident. Though, I must say, it’s a sad testament to an art show if your favourite piece is made of Heron-poop…
I’m still glad I went though, and a trip to New York City is always worthwhile. At least Bob and I had something to laugh about on our drive back to Montreal.

I’m finally getting around to writing a quick review of the film My Father’s studio by Montreal filmmaker Jennifer Alleyn which I saw last week. I met Jennifer briefly at her mother’s vernissage here at the Visual Voice Art Gallery (check out Anne Cherix’s exhibition here and here). Jennifer dropped me a line announcing the launch of her film, and since Anne was going to feature in the movie as well I was definitely going to see it! The movie also garnered top reviews in the local newspapers, as well as winning the FIFA award for Best Canadian Film. Alors - a must-see.

Movie poster of the film “My Father’s Studio”

I absolutely loved the movie. It allowed me to discover the works of a talented local painter, as well as getting a glimpse of his enigmatic personality. Edmund Alleyn was famously camera shy. Even his own daughter could only convince him to submit to one single interview. The rest of the story is told through visits to his various studios, his vast œuvre, and discussions with his friends and family.
What I found fascinating about Edmund Alleyn’s work is that he traversed through a series of distinct periods, each a total break from the other, each in harmony with its Zeitgeist, but always a little outside the norm. Always on his own terms. My favourite episode was early on in his life, when he sneaked a “fake” Automatist-style painting into a competition - and won! The crux of the matter, though, was that he was vehemently opposed to the Automatist movement, working as a figurative painter himself. He had created the painting as a hoax and never expected to win. And he was still an art student, to boot!
But he wasn’t married to any style. Alleyn thought of artistic styles as self-constructed prisons. “I am a man of all periods”, he tells his daughter in the interview.

Some examples of Edmund Alley’s works

The film takes a journey through his life and his work. We travel with him and his wife Anne Cherix to Paris, where they live the Bohemian lifestyle. Then back to Montreal, where Alleyn stops painting all-together and starts constructing the famous Introscaphe. He finds his way back to painting, now focusing on realistic paintings on plexiglass, later a series of waterscapes. In his later years he moves to black and white, repeating the same motifs over and over again: cacti, chairs, plant stands, some sculptures, always on an ominous, velvety black background.
“What is the one thing that hasn’t changed throughout your life, since your artistic awakening?” Jennifer Alleyn asks her father several times throughout the movie. “It is the knowledge that we are mortal”, replies Alleyn in the end. I wonder if that’s the black void he was painting in his later years.
Discover Edmund Alleyn’s work yourselves. The movie is still running at the cinema Ex-Centris - check here for movie times. You can also view images of Alleyn’s work on his website www.edmundalleyn.com.

There’s always something fun and artsy going on in the Belgo Building. Yesterday afternoon I received an e-mail announcing “Flash Info!” - a performance artist was going to scale the Belgo’s central staircase in fifteen minutes! I grabbed my camera and headed down the stairs, joining about a dozen people who had obviously also just checked their e-mails.
Interdisciplinary artist Cheryl L’Hirondelle was about ready for her ascend. She loaded up with a few bags and several loops of extension cable and swung herself onto the staircase’s railings, climbing up without actually using the stairs. It reminded me of games I used to play as a kid where I traversed my room on top of furniture, never touching the floor. L’Hirondelle’s performance gave a new meaning to the construct of the staircase, treating it as an obstacle course on her way to the summit.

Cheryl L’Hirondelle on her way to the top.

The climb continued to the roof of the building, where L’Hirondelle unloaded her gear. Luckily it was a gorgeous day, and the spectators who had followed the artist up the staircase took advantage of the sunny roof (suggestions will be made to management regarding a barbeque pit and deck-chairs). I chatted with some of those assembled on the roof. As it turns out, this performance is part of the festival Mini Viva! which is organized by the artist run centre La Centrale, in collaboration with several other galleries including the Belgo’s Skol.
L’Hirondelle overall aim was to set up a pirate radio station on the roof of the Belgo building and broadcast clips of audio art for an hour or two. Her aim is to permeate the air with art, and she uses skyscraper as a symbolic link between the earth and the sky. It took her three trips to bring up all her equipment, and once everything was up on the roof, she began installing her broadcast centre.

Up on the Iron Mountain

I had a meeting, so I didn’t have the time to witness the entire performance. But if you’d like more information about this event, check out this webpage or this post on the Belgo Report.

Awa ka-amaciwet piwapisko waciya /
climbing the iron mountains
Performance by Cheryl L’Hirondelle (Vancouver)

Until the end of today another colourful collection of celestial paintings is gracing the walls of the Visual Voice Art Gallery. The Painted Universe 2008 was fun as always, drawing in friends and strangers, adults and kids. I noticed that the adults were more apprehensive about participating in the event; I guess for some of them their art classes were a memory of the distant past. But some sweet-talking and offers of juice and cookies (and mildly lethal Mai-Tais) bribed a few gallery visitors to take up the brush. Here’s the final installation:

The Painted Universe 2008

One thing I think I’ll do differently next year is the initial installation of painted squares. I always start off the wall with a few of my own pieces, just to get the ball rolling. Now I’m wondering if that’s intimidating prospective amateur artists. For the 2009 edition I’ll start off with a few of this year’s kid’s paintings. There’s something to be said about lowering the bar…
For those of you who took the plunge, thank you so much for participating! Without you the universe would be much less colourful.