Regina artist’s miniature works tackle big subjects

REGINA — A brown rabbit is tucked under covers, mentally or physically ill — who’s to say?

The used tissues overflowing a nearby dresser drawer suggest a lot of nose-blowing. The affirmations on one wall — “energy and persistence conquer all things”; “tomorrow is another day” — suggest the rabbit needs a pick-meup. (That might be especially true given the open Champagne bottle and overloaded ashtray across the room, and the clock above the bed that’s 20 seconds to chiming midnight.)

This entire scene plays out in a space less than two cubic feet.

“Path To Individuation” is one of five scenes in Quarantine Diaries, Sylvia Ziemann’s contribution to the current Dunlop Art Gallery exhibition, States of Collapse.

“The characters are animalhuman hybrids that sleep, play, dream, and draw in these private spaces of reflection. So they’re fantastical; they’re kind of dreamy and fairy-tale like,” said Ziemann. “All five (projects) deal with interior spaces, so I wanted to kind of tackle mental health issues of being isolated and being inside, but also what do we do there and how are we feeling about this? And I used my characters to give visual representation to states of being.”

Little windows provide a glimpse at the characters and the tiny details of their spaces — including loaves of bread, dolls, dystopian books and playing cards.

In one scene, “Protest At the End of the World,” a rabbit and a donkey are watching a puppet show protest, surrounded by their own protest signs: “The World Will End.” “Rabbit Lives Matter.”

“It’s almost like they’re not sure how to deal with which fearful thing, or maybe they’re getting ready to go to the next protest, whatever it is,” said Ziemann. “I think fundamentally each scene deals with some kind of coping mechanism around fear or deals with it directly.”

Ziemann’s pieces are set near the works of other artists — Jude Griebel’s miniature sculptures, Ruth Cuthand’s painting, Nicole Dextras’ short film on a TV and Rolande Souliere’s photographs, among others.

Ziemann has worked in miniature for a long time.

In art school at the Alberta College of Art and the University of Calgary, she used to make big paintings, but she didn’t have the space at home to continue after graduating.

Now, in the studio of the Regina home she and her family moved into last year, there’s a lot more space to manoeuvre.

Their College Avenue heritage house is equipped with a stable, which its 1913 owners would have used to keep horses, but which Ziemann uses as her art studio.

Ziemann’s older brother sparked her interest in art: She followed his footsteps to an art-focused high school in Edmonton he had attended. Winning the Grade 12 art award cemented her postsecondary path.

Ziemann met her husband, David Garneau — a fellow U of C art student — almost 36 years ago through a mutual friend at a party: “(He) dragged me over to David, put our hands together, and said, ‘Here, you guys have to meet,’ and then walked away.”

Both artists, Ziemann and Garneau have collaborated on exhibitions together, and have curated shows together.

“It’s really nice to be with somebody who has similar interests, even though our works are very different and we give each other a lot of space,” said Ziemann.

“... We ask each other if we want feedback. You don’t just walk into the studio and go, ‘Oh hey, what are you doing with that?’ or ‘What does that mean?’ We’re respectful of our process.”

Their two children, 24-year-old B and 21-year-old Cassandra, have worked as studio assistants for both parents, who both teach at the University of Regina.

Ziemann views her pieces as similar to fairy tales: “My creatures are kind of operating in this world as if it’s a parallel universe in a way; it’s kind of this dream space, but they’re kind of like fairy tales that talk about fear, without saying, ‘OK this is about this, this is about that.’”