Haunted: Luis Jacob at the Guggenheim

Also in New York, I fought the Saturday crowds to get a look at Haunted, the Guggenheim's extraordinarily thoughtful, well-mounted exhibition of contemporary photography and video. Thoughtful because, above it all, it strives to make connections beyond simple media and into the realm of idea, reference and intent, understanding formal concerns like appropriation -- a huge current in the early moments of conceptualism, and a lingua franca of contemporary art today -- and its connections across that epochal divide.

That's a long way of saying it pieces together artists and moments from the iconic to the emerging, and it should please those passionate about Toronto art to see none other than Luis Jacob sharing the Gugg's gorgeously curving rotunda with the likes of Robert Rauschenberg and Andy Warhol. Masters of appropriation themselves, Warhol and Rauschenberg seem to speak directly to Jacob's meticulously ordered piece, "Album IV," an intimate-seeming scrapbook of images which, on close inspection, is comprised mostly of magazine clippings and ads -- a dislocatedly impersonal, personal-seeming history that betrays the infiltrations of a media culture into our own psyches to such a degree that differentiation between the manufactured and the sincere demands pause for thought.

Anyway, judging from the crowds leaning in for a closer look -- it was hard to spend too much time with "Album IV," for all the people clustered around it -- Jacob realized his intent nicely. The Guggenheim thought so, too: they bought "Album IV" for their permanent collection.

Speaking of permanent collections, it's always a little mind-blowing to see what a place like the Guggenheim can do when it unpacks the boxes in the its basement: From Rauschenberg to Warhol to Christian Boltanski to Marina Abromovich to Felix Gonzalez-Torres to Jeff Wall to Stan Douglas to Tacita Dean and beyond, it's fairly mind-blowing.

As an aside, nice to see a bit of Canada-boosting as an inadvertent part of Haunted: Wall and Douglas, of course, are the established art stars to go along with Jacob and Winnipeg's Sarah Anne Johnston, whose homespun images of a dream-like recreation of tree planting are shown here. I have to admit to some national pride swelling in my chest. Take that, Denver!

Only until Sept. 6, so get on down there. 

(PS. Speaking of appropriation, the above image, of Jacob at the Guggenheim, is borrowed -- with gratitude -- from the Peruvian website rpp.com.pe, where it can be seen in its original context here.)

Big Bambu at the Met

As kind of a last minute thing, I took off to New York for the weekend, and in the 36 hours (minus sleep) I had to spend there, I managed to take in the Starn twins' (Mike and Doug's) mind-bendingly great (however oddly named) installation "You Can't You Won't You Don't Stop," a vertiginously parasitic-seeming, two-story high tangle of bamboo installed on the roof deck of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

That deck has always been one of my favourite places on earth, a rare oasis of tranquility amid the madness of the city; with the installation, you'd think its zen-like vibe would be disrupted by an inevitable sense of claustrophobia, but not really; rather, it makes you aware of not just itself, but the built structure with which it bluntly intervenes. In a revelatory sort of way, its chaotic, organic assembly of material counters the ordered stone structure of the building, that softening and and balancing both (its uncanny ordered filtering of the piercing sunlight was extraordinarily gorgeous, too). It's also a powerful comeback for the Starns, whose career peaked in the early 90s and seemed to taper off; this is as triumphant a return as you're likely to see -- ever.

Whatever the case, my 2-year old daughter sure loved it, as you can see below, and to me, that's not a bad test; art that elicits pure experiential joy as a starting point is all right in my books. And if it takes its title from an anthem of my youth -- the Beastie Boys' "Sureshot," from 1994's classic Ill Communication -- more's the better, however nonsensical it may be.

Lately and to come ...

Remember what I was saying not so long ago about getting to it when I get to it? Well, here I am, apologizing again, but, as they say, it is what it is, so I'll leave it at that.

Some things I've been up to lately, in no particular order:

The press preview for the AGO's Julian Schnabel show, Art and Film, was Thursday, and I was given some time with the great man, which resulted in this hastily-cobbled interview, in the paper Friday. As it turned out, I dropped in on Julian -- who's actually a pretty mellow dude, all things considered; we had pizza and hung out -- in the midst of the installation, which he took an active part in, jumping on cranes and steadying enormously heavy sculptures (his) with his bare hands.

Anyway, likeable or not, that leaves the work itself to talk about, which I'll be doing in print Thursday; it seems vaguely futile -- what's left to say about Julian Schnabel, artist? -- but also necessary, in the sense that he's taking up a whole floor of our city's scant contemporary art space, and why, exactly, is that?

Meanwhile, Sunday I wrote about Joanne Tod's compelling installation, "Oh Canada -- A Lament," (above) and its odd placement at the way-off-the-art-world-map Canadian Warplane Heritage Museum. Less a hot political potato than a question of art world snobbery for the overly literal, methinks -- the project is the embodiment of Tod's commitment to paint the portrait of each and every soldier who dies in Afghanistan; current body count, as of yesterday, 152 -- the piece is nonetheless a quietly complex meditation on the nature of such quagmires, and their human cost. Maybe it's just me. What do you think -- should "A Lament" make its way to a major art institution, or is its home among the military?

Anyways, onward. Busy times coming up. Stay tuned.

Meanwhile ...

I blathered on at length in the paper today about the ridiculously chock-full season of (mostly) goodness that awaits us this fall. I was ordered to cease and desist at the very long length at which it appeared, but even so, there were several things I omitted that I wish I hadn't.

I'd love to hear what you're looking forward to that didn't make the list. Fire away.

Image of Shary Boyle with "White Widow" at the Sobey Awards last year. And for those paying attention, yes, that's the second picture of Boyle on this blog in less than a week. Cat's out of the bag: I like her thing. A lot. I like even better that I'm not exactly sure why.

"Yes, there is Canadian art." So says Denver. Yes: Denver.

This morning, a reader sent me a link to a story in the Denver Post by its Fine Arts Critic discussing a show of young Canadian artists there. He seems dumbstruck that not only are there people actually making art in Canada -- the shock! -- but that -- Good God! -- it's contemporary, topical, technologically savvy, and relevant! (The show includes Toronto artist Alex McLeod (above) and Sobey nominee Brendan Tang.)

Of course, we have to take this for what it is, which is a piece by writer in Denver. Nonetheless, I don't care much for his tone -- as though he were an anthropologist wandering the rain forests of Borneo and coming across a lost tribe. If he spent any time in Berlin, Basel or Frankfurt (or New York, for that matter!) he wouldn't be so surprised; the Canadian presence is more powerful there than it is at home, for heaven's sake.

Whatever the case, the piece is complimentary, smacks of a fair degree of ignorance, particularly for someone whose function is assumably to cover art (ever heard of Jeff Wall? Stan Douglas? General Idea? Michael Snow? Hello?). Which we like, don't we? Then again, when our own museums privilege figures like Anselm Kiefer and Julian Schnabel over our own talent, it's hard to blame anyone for being surprised by Canadian art. And I suppose I have to admit to being less than versed on what Denver has to offer (America, as defined by the twin poles of New York and Los Angeles, somewhat more so). Above all, though, it strikes me that Denver, of all places, oughtn't look down its nose at, well, anyone.

Artscape: Rant postscript

About that aforementioned rant:

Of all the people to take umbrage with my litany of bellyaches in the paper today,Tim Jones, CEO of Artscape, was very upset with my characterization of his arm's-length city-associated agency as "tiny" (he didn't like "city agency" either).

While it's completely true that, with the addition of the Wychwood Barns and the forthcoming Shaw/Givins School redux, Artscape's physical holdings are far from tiny in the literal sense, I was suggesting that, in the context of actually meeting the need of a perpetually migrant art community, Artscape, though it provides desperately-needed space buffered from the market, is barely a drop in the bucket when it comes to demand. 

I'm planning a good, long look at Artscape in the fall, so we may as well get this started now. Tell me about your experiences with the agency, whether it be applications for space, its priorities, how well it fulfills its mandate, its general transparency. This is an agency meant to serve a community in the context of the so-called "greater good" of the city. How's it doing? Let's talk.

**VERY IMPORTANT CLARIFICATION!! You don't have to comment publicly if you don't want to. Just email me, as some of you have already done. I'm all ears ...

Strange + Wonderful = Mary Catherine Newcomb's "Product of Eden"

If you're passing through Kitchener, as I was on the weekend, you'd be silly not to stop off at the Kitchener-Waterloo Art Gallery and see what's growing in the front garden. There, Mary Catherine Newcomb has installed a series of infant-shaped moulds -- there's three words I never thought I'd use together -- that are providing form to an array of eggplants and squashes now growing to full maturity.

She calls it Product of Eden -- an ongoing project -- and there's an obvious parallel being drawn here between human gestation and its place in the broader natural cycle of growth, but the laboured manipulations of Newcomb's process seem to suggest a decided un-naturalness to the process, too, maybe taking into account the science of convenience involving conception and delivery that's encroaching on the simple birds-and-bees old-fashioned way. But I don't want to say too much about it; just look for yourself and draw your own conclusions. And try to get there before the, um, harvest in October.

Other good reasons to stop at KWAG: Gwen MacGregor's Research, Data and Flow Charts, a response to her earlier River Grand Chronicles, and A Nervous Decade, a 10-year survey of the paintings of John Kissick.

Today ...

On orders from an editor for a package today aimed at pointing out or city's various cultural deficiencies, I've composed a rant -- there's no other fair way to describe it -- targeting this city's institutional weaknesses and continuing reticence to giving the art community here the prominence I believe it has earned.

This is mildly ironic timing, given that I'm off this morning to meet with Shary Boyle (left) at the Art Gallery of Ontario, where's she's begun installing the huge exhibition she's mounting there as the winner of last year's Gershon Iskowitz prize.

At the same time, that's one big thing, being launched in the shadow of a much, much bigger thing, which is the oddly hype-y staging of the Julian Schnabel painting exhibition tied to the premiere of his new film, Miral, at the Toronto International Film Festival.

I'm not a fan of Schnabel's work, but that's neither here nor there; it just strikes me as weirdly desperate and contextually bizarre to pour limited resources into a show by a superstar millionaire painter -- in furtherance of promoting his most recent film, no less -- when there remain gaps in the more vital business of providing a much-needed stage for a vibrant local scene. The Boyle installation is wonderful, and well-deserved. But how much is enough? Not this much -- especially when Toronto artists have been shuffled off to the side of the AGO's Frank restaurant for the well-intentioned but sadly invisible "Toronto Now" series. Dean Baldwin, who had the first spot there, said it best (and I'm paraphrasing): The AGO already marginalizes most Toronto artists generally; why not make it official, and tuck them in the most marginalized space in the building?

Anyway, it's humid. That makes me cranky. And I haven't had a good rant in a while. I started out on this adventure stating plainly that part of my role was as an advocate for an under-represented community. Just a little reminder: I'm still here. 

(Boyle portrait courtesy CBC)

"Julian Schnabel: Art and Film ...

"... will occupy the entire fifth floor of the AGO’s Vivian & David Campbell Centre for Contemporary Art from September 1, 2010 through January 2, 2011."

Is it me, or is that a LOT of gallery space allotted to a solo show, particularly when that show is narrowly focused on "the connections between painting and film in Schnabel’s work?" Nice piece there, though. I'll keep an open mind.

Picture: "Painting for Malik Joyeux and Bernardo Bertolucci (V)," 2006

Hey, and this: Will Munro

IMPORTANT FIX! The party is SATURDAY, **NOT Friday! My bad.

In the paper today, a longish, gushing blather to the force of nature that was Will Munro. We never had the chance to do a proper tribute to Will when he died in May (I dashed off a hurried post the day of the vigil), so my thanks to the AGO's "Toronto Now" series for providing me the opportunity. (that's my not-safe-for-newsprint -- and not very good -- iPhone image of Will's “Black Fag: “Henry Rollins vs. Vaginal Crème Davis.” Gee, I wonder why?)

Anyway, a lot of it will be stuff you already know, art people, but this one was for all the larger world of the Toronto Star reader who may not have known how the vibrant, diverse, eclectic west end scene people flock to from corners of the city far and wide was created in no small part by a wildly friendly, tireless, creative dynamo named Will Munro. Now they do. And besides, we'll have plenty of time to look at Will's work when the AGYU trots out its big survey next year. 'Til then, good night, sweet prince ...  

NB: The official reception is at the AGO this Friday, SATURDAY (!!!!!) with the after party (of course) being hosted by the Beaver as a special edition of "Love Saves The Day." Should be a good 'un.