Mendel’s party guests intrigue
Modern Visions
The Mendel Art Gallery 50th Anniversary Exhibition To Jan. 4
I have visited the Mendel’s current exhibition five times, and will certainly be returning again. Selections from a permanent collection of this calibre provide a rare opportunity to spend time with visionary works of art in a visionary institution, ahead of its time at a mere 50 years old.
Starting with three etchings by Rembrandt (circa 1636) in the Early Visions section, curator Lisa Baldissera and associate curator Sandra Fraser have created a comprehensive overview not only of art history, but of the vital role the Mendel plays in our city, province, and country.
So many great artists are included that I couldn’t even begin to do them justice. It was like arriving at a noisy party that was well underway before I arrived. Lots of old friends were there, like Illingworth Kerr, David Milne and even Whistler, all vying for attention and in a jolly mood.
When I spotted Honor Kever’s painting The Good Dishes (2012) I lost my footing in a most enjoyable way. Classic realism doesn’t usually throw me off-balance, but this sure did. Dozens of plates and cups are piled high, arranged in a leaning tower, seriously about to fall. One false move and they all smash to smithereens — a disaster waiting to happen.
I made a new friend at the party, too. In the Archaeology & Memory gallery, I met Rebecca Belmore, an artist with strong opinions who is not afraid to express them. Her sculpture/installation called blood on the snow (2002) shocked me at first, because it dares to blurt truth, expose history and make everybody squirm. There is a massive white quilt, representing snow, nearly filling the gallery floor. In the middle sits a chair, slipcovered with white fabric. All that soft, pure white, and then the shock of bleeding red paint on the chair left no doubt that a horrible tragedy occurred here. But what?
Some might say that parties are no place for social politics, but I say, “That’s exactly what makes a party interesting!” So I hung out with Rebecca Belmore for a long time.
In the ‘A Home On The Prairies’ salon, I fell in love with Baba, as seen through the ever-ready lens of Sandra Semchuck in her photo-montage of 17 panels. In Baba’s Garden, Hafford, Saskatchewan 1985-1986 (1986) I followed, well, floated actually, with Baba into her garden as she led me into a maze, or rather paradise, of tangled juicy, blurry green. I am dizzy, Baba is tipsy, and we are both just deliriously happy on a hot summer day in Hafford.
Expedition: Arctic
Diefenbaker Canada Centre
until Jan. 11 The discovery of The Erebus in September brought renewed attention to Canada’s North, along with patriotic fervour for all us history buffs.
Haunting pictures of Lord Franklin’s submerged ship, sitting perfectly upright on the ocean floor, will stay with me forever. And likely, the discovery will answer many questions about the how, the what and the why of that doomed expedition, which set sail from England in 1845. Speculation about starvation, cannibalism, lead poisoning, mutiny and hopeless treks across the frozen ocean has made epic fodder for scientists, writers, artists and historians.
The only thing we know for certain is how it all ended — with the deaths of all 128 men.
Expedition: Arctic (produced by the Canadian Museum of History and the Canadian Museum of Nature) is anything but speculative. It documents an accurate truth about what it takes to explore Canada’s north, as we follow the 1913 to 1917 expedition led by Vilhjalmur Stefansson and zoologist Dr. Rudolph Anderson, leaving Victoria B.C. 68 years after Franklin’s ill-fated voyage.
Expedition: Arctic had a multipurpose mission — to assert Canada’s sovereignty in the north and learn about resources and the Inuit way of life. But even then, there was no such thing as air rescue or modern communication. Just think Titanic and you get the idea.
At the gallery doors, I was offered a playing card, pulled randomly from a deck, and my card gave me the persona of Uttaktuak, a cook and seamstress whose fate and fortunes I would follow as I viewed the exhibition. And suddenly there I was, sewing anoraks and shoes, cooking whale meat — just doing what I normally do. And I quickly understood why they needed me. I mean these people were helpless! Ships officers, engineers, cartographers, zoologists — all great guys and hard-working for sure, but trust me, their survival skills were zero. My husband Peter Lopez (a Portuguese whaler) was signed on too, so off we sailed. How lucky was I?
To me, the artifacts, photos, garments, tools, icebergs, ships and pure danger all merged into one massive, bone-chilling adventure. An adventure in the comfort of a cozy museum, that is to say. But dutifully, I tried to focus on the magnificent fox and caribou parkas with their spiritual symbols and regional markers. I tried to grasp how films and photography (all done on this expedition) could even happen with numb fingers and mostly miserable conditions. Or how they documented animals and plants. Or how they mapped and measured.
I came away with a new appreciation for the dedication, study, documentation, preparatory work, presentation, creativity and effort by the Canadian Museum of History which brought Expedition: Arctic to Saskatoon.