Maverick Arts

Boston’s Visual Artsletter

By Charles Giuliano
82 Webster Street
East Boston, 02128
Charles.Giuliano@GTE.net

October 21, 2000

Charles Giuliano is an artist. curator and critic. This is the third edition of Maverick Arts, an on line artsletter. Frank Conte, a journalist and comrade in arms, has agreed to carry this newletter on his web site, www.eastboston.com. He will also be archiving back issues if you are joining us for the first time. Also, if other arts related web sites wish to carry this artsletter, please reach me by e mail. Charles.Giuliano@GTE.net

Le Bienalle de Montreal 2000

Recently, we spent a weekend in Montreal viewing the second, Montreal Bienalle, including a dim sum Sunday morning brunch with its director, Claude Gosselin, and his partner and director of communications and marketing, Pierre Pilotte. We also enjoyed a leisurely Saturday morning visit with a great friend and colleague, the gallerist, Rene Blouin.

In a busy run around Montreal through a steady drizzle, we divided our time between, gallery hopping, visits to the museums, window shopping on colorful Sainte Catherine Street, with its mind boggling mix of sex shops, tattoo parlors, art galleries and department stores. We also enjoyed a charming anniversary dinner at one of my favorite old French restaurants, Chez Pierre, (1263 Rue Labelle) which was a stone’s throw from our conveniently located hotel, Lord Berri, which is just a ten minute walk to the two gallery buildings, at 460, and 372 Sainte Catherine Ouest.

Our dinner Friday night at Chez Pierre was so delightful that we returned Saturday as well. It was just so convenient and we were too pooped to trudge off to Sainte Laurent or some other cluster of Montreal’s many ethnic restaurants. But, our dining experience on Saturday turned out to be rather like a Monty Python or Faulty Towers script. There was a crisis in the kitchen and the clever and witty wait staff kept splashing us down with glasses of complementary wine and a bit of gossip about events in the chaotic kitchen. When dinner did, indeed, arrive, it was simply marvelous. We were in no hurry so it was all in great fun.

Which so often seems to be the case during visits to Montreal. With a sense of humor and adventure expect the unexpected. Along with the latest gossip in a city that seems to thrive on dish. It has been like that from my very first visit many years ago.

That first time, before Canada went bust big time, there was lots of money for tourism promotion and I found myself in the midst of a media junket. But, on those occasions you are shown what the officials, often, dull bureaucrats, decide is important to see. Having had the official tour, I wandered off on my own to explore the galleries. I picked up Slate, the Gallery Guide, and, in a couple of hours in and around Sherbrooke Street, was fed up with Inuit carvings and what Ken Moffett would call, the New New Painting.

Over lunch that day I read an article in the Mail Gazette, Montreal’s English language paper, by the late critic, Ann Duncan, about an eccentric art dealer, Rene Blouin. His gallery wasn’t in the guide book, and why I asked him? "When you visit a city you are supposed to ask questions," he replied. The first of many lessons from the master. And, when I asked if there were other contemporary galleries, he wrote out some names and addresses. That afternoon, I frantically tried to see as many as I could. They were then located mostly along Sainte Laurent. And, I ended up in the space of Christianne Chassy, who specialized in sculpture. It was late in the day, and we talked over several glasses of wine.

It had been enough to tweek my interest. That summer, I drove to Montreal with my Mother, and the officials provided us with a guide for the day. Mom rather liked the attention, as well as, time spent in the magnificent Botanical Gardens where we were astonished to find so many wedding parties posing for pictures. I later wrote an article called the, Brides of Montreal. And we also visited Rene where my mother was quite taken by a photo of Jana Sterbak’s, Meat Dress. She asked a lot of questions about that. How I miss those times we traveled together.

But, in addition to travel experiences, over the years, I have developed a true interest in Canadian art. I have viewed most of the annual exhibitions mounted by Gosselin’s, Centre international d’art contemporain de Montreal (CIAC), Les Cents Jours (the Hundred Days). These were generally mounted from Late August through October in a variety of locations including a particularly memorable installation in an enormous, abandoned Molson’s brewery. The very first one, now legendary in the field of contemporary Canadian art, was, Aurora Borealis, 1985, in a then unoccupied underground shopping mall.

Two years ago, we visited Montreal twice. First for the incredible multi venue exhibition all over Montreal and Quebec, co curated by Blouin and Gaston Sainte Pierre, Peintre/Peinture. It chronicled several generations of Canadian, abstract painters including Borduas, and Rioppelle, from the early Refus Global, through Yves Gaucher, Guido Molinari, Marcel Barbeau, Jacques Herteubese, Claude Toussignant, of the formalist/ Op group, and the monochromes of Francoise Sullivan, and Charles Gagnon, through works by emerging artists. Then we returned for Gosselin’s first Montreal Bienalle.

The Bienalle was mounted in three buildings, the former home of CIAC, on Sherbrooke Street, as well as, a dramatic waterfront building with a work by Chen Zehn sited outside, and works in the Museum, Just For Laughs. That effort got somewhat mixed reviews by the Canadian and international media but enough of an endorsement for Gosselin to fight for funding the second and recent Bienalle (September 28 through October 29).

In several key aspects this Bienalle was tighter and more concise than the first. Asked why he had gone from 100 days to just a month, Gosselin responded with humor, as usual. "People come to the opening and then don’t bother until the end. It costs a lot of money to run it in between. So we are open every day, seven days a week, for longer hours, which turn out to be more or less the same." Also, this time, the show was contained in a single venue, the soon to be razed, Palais du Commerce. It was a building designed for trade shows and will make way for a new library. The location in mid town, across the street from the subway, was most convenient. And the exhibition was rather neatly divided into sections of Canadian, domestic architecture, models for the new Library, a media internet center, and an exhibition of fifteen Canadian and fifteen international artists, "Tout le temps/ Every Time," curated by Peggy Gale.

The strategy seems to have paid off. The vernissage drew 1,500 and the following day (free) another 500 attended. The project was on target to draw about 25,000 visitors. In order to achieve this goal took two years of hard work and a budget of $1.5 million. Which seems like an enormous effort for relatively small numbers. But, this is a consistent response to presenting experimental contemporary art. The numbers are never a true reflection of the real impact of presenting new work.

Over dim sum, in a crowded Montreal restaurant, Gosselin was very frank in discussing the obstacles and frustrations of running CIAC as a gypsy operation. He laid out the terrain while Pierre often interjected with more factual data and pithy insights. It is astonishing to see them in operation. But they seemed a bit frazzled one week after the opening. It had been yet another epic undertaking that involved literally creating an exhibition in a raw space, with walls and lighting, hiring and maintaining a crew of temp workers, as well as, dealing with the artists, guest curators and daunting administrative issues. And, as they point out, $1.5 million may sound like a lot, but that is spread over two years. Then they have to start the process all over again.

"You are as good as your last show," Gosselin observed. "If you do a good show and it is a success, and people come, you get to do the next one."

That is quite a different story than that of Le Musee de l’art contemporain, which occupies a large building on Sainte Catherine, and has an annual budget of $9 million. Despite its well stocked staff of curators, the museum does not seem to be noted for ambitious programming. In all these years, I have not formed a relationship with the museum because they never seem to be around on weekends or holidays. Despite numerous attempts on my part. For me, art has never been a 9 to 5 job.

CIAC did, for a time, occupy a handsome space on Sherbrooke Street, but Gosselin found himself spending $75,000 a year on rent. As well as having to regularly program exhibitions. It wasn’t a good fit and, when the money ran out, he went back to his earlier gypsy style. We asked what happens to CIAC in the future. Was he training someone to continue the process? How long could he continue from show to show? Is there a need for yet another Biennial when there are now so many all over the world? And, don’t a lot of these shows more or less draw on the same resources of ideas and artists?

That ticked him off a bit. He described what he is doing as research and development. That, as long as there are artists being encouraged (through government support as is the case in Canada) to create new work and ideas, then there must be a commitment (again through largely government support) to show the results of that research. He described how he is a part of a generation in the arts, in the 1970s, who created their own jobs as curators, gallerists, writers and editors. The schools, for example, teach art history, studio art and criticism. Students emerge expecting to find work and support in these areas. So, he commented, there is less of that entrepreneurial spirit represented by a now aging generation that invented and created themselves. Just how do you teach and pass along those skills.

"I’m not waiting for anything," he said. "I am just doing it for the moment. I do it my way. When this is over it’s over. Nobody in Canada is doing what I do. Why not a Bienalle in Toronto? They are a larger city with more resources. I do it here because it is where I live and work and because there is a need."

Most of all, Claude and Pierre do it for the artists. Claude said that he gets frustrated that there isn’t enough attention paid to the work. The writers are always commenting on the physical properties of temporary venues and comparing his exhibitions to Aurora Borealis. He points out, with some irritation, that CIAC has produced many more shows that just that one. Over the years, it has been about the work presented and he listed how many artists he was the first, or early, to show, who went on to establish international reputations. There is criticism, however, if he proposes showing an artist more than once. And, always, he has to tap dance with government funders. When they turned him down, last time, for example, he didn’t take no for an answer and fought back with a letter campaign. He heatedly pointed out that Montreal is a city known for its many festivals and why should contemporary art not be a part of the equation.

When you make enough noise, apparently, they listen. But, you also wonder how, as the years tick off, Gosselin finds the energy to keep up the good fight and to survive from project to project.

After brunch we toured the exhibition with a particular interest in the section devoted to the fine arts.

One of the first and strongest impressions is a life scale, color photo, Felix, June 5, 1994, by AA Bronson, that depicts the recently deceased corpse of a man that has succumbed to AIDS. He is wasted and cadaverish staring vacantly into eternity. Apparently, because there was no moisture left in the tear ducts, it had been impossible to close the lids of his eyes. He is propped up in bed amid an array of colorful pillows and bed clothing. Next to or on his bedside are such props as a tv clicker, tape recorder, note pad and bell. He is wearing a dazzling op art designed shirt, seemingly buoyant and flamboyant offering a note of cheerful fashionable irony to such a poignant image. Later, in Boston, at an AIDS benefit auction, I discussed the image with an artist who, as a gay man, was all too familiar with this tableau morte. At first, he volunteered some comments, and then, his eyes filled with tears and he said, "Excuse me, I just don’t want to go there tonight." Apparently, the moment captured in Bronson’s riveting photograph was all too familiar.

This image seemed to set the theme, Tout le temps/Every Time, that resonated through the labyrinth of galleries created in the raw space. From this grim image of a corpse, for example, one moved on to a gallery devoted to a photo mural of a tree by Genevieve Cadieux. By contrast, it became a succinct metaphor for all of nature and its affirming life force. Or, in another space, there were the tiny, meticulously carved flower and leaf forms by Yoshihiro Suda. And, another space featured slide projections of a woman’s face, greatly enlarged in black and white, assuming a variety of somber expressions, by Ana Torfs.

The exhibition involved a balance between painting, drawing, video and photography. There were also installations as, for example, rooms stacked with books to form benches or randomly scattered. In another set of galleries one was forced to walk over a sea of vinyl LPs to get to a back room with a video. As an avid record collector, it seemed a sacrilege to step on the precious vinyl which, in this case, was not music but just a material. It neutered the content of music and word. I was tempted to look for a book or record to rescue from this oblivion. Which made me question the relationship between information and just stuff. My wife too often views my vast collections of books, unread, and records, unlistened to, as a waste of space. I think of them as precious collections that are accruing in value but may just be dropped at the curb by my indifferent heirs. So it was about accumulation of treasure or trash, take your pick, and you can’t take it all with you.

And, so it went as, from gallery to gallery, one encountered metaphors of time, space and the fragile nature of life. In one of the most stunning spaces, Bertrand Lamarche, created a large, flattened, broad, oval, floating mass of cloud like light. It undulated hypnotically and one would have liked to stay and contemplated it for hours on end. The effect was achieved by reflecting a tensor light on the oblique angle of a vinyl record turning ever so slowly on a turntable. The undulating effect was based on the defraction of light as an array of angles by the grooves of the anonymous recording. This made me rethink once again the creative potential of my vast collection of vinyl. Like many members of my pre CD, generation, as a former rock and jazz critic, I once measured my personal net worth in terms of running feet of vinyl. All arranged alphabetically. The only aspect of my life that is truly and obsessively organized.

The suspended, heavy, chain link chandelier by Barbara Steinman cast dramatic shadows on the floor. Directly below was a circle of reflective material that picked up the ersatz glitter of the object that we generally connote with delicate crystal. So, she accomplished an adroit reversal of our expectation of role and material. Had it been the usual chandelier we would have thought just nothing of it but she slightly realigned our expectation. It made me think of the many chandeliers in the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles that we visited last year. Now, what if they had been made of heavy chain. It offered a juxtaposition of the courtly life of the ancien regime and the brutal reality of heavy metal modern life.

Another clear metaphor for process and time was represented by the very slow evolution, over the course of years, of objects by Eric Cameron. The artist applies endless layers of white paint over common objects that slowly evolve into abstract forms. The importance of the original object surrenders its significance and becomes something else again. This takes Duchamp’s notion of the assisted readymade to a new dimension. The resultant white forms, displayed in vertical vitrines had a sublime sense of the beautiful and transformative. It implies that one may start as a shoe and over a long passage of time evolve into something quite angelic and mystical.

Over the years, I have seen works by Michael Snow in Canadian museum collections. These occasional encounters have provided fragmentary exposure to an artist who has worked in a variety of technology based media from holography to video and film as well as sculpture. It has been difficult to form a cohesive impression of the oeuvre and this is an artist who will hopefully have an American retrospective exhibition.

Here he was represented by an installation that featured a series of suspended, rectangular frames containing colored gels. These were lit from the rear by powerful lights. Visitors were invited to walk through the rows of suspended frames and observe the modulations of colored shadows on the walls. In this regard the work was interactive as it both encouraged and rewarded active participation.

The video artist, Francis Alys, projected an animated image low on the wall just above the floor. It involved a boy dragging a stick along a metal fence. We heard the clicking sound made by this child like action.

While most of the works seemed to hold up well in these improvised spaces, with somewhat generic fluorescent lighting, this was not always the case. In the last gallery there was a complex installation of drawings, by Edward Pien, on paper applied to the wall in several funky layers. There were holes that allowed us to look in at a set of drawings on the back walls. And, in the center of the space was a large circle of suspended paper again with holes revealing complex nesting of circles. There was a delicate sound track that was drowned out by the skateboarders on the floor above. The guard posted in this space observed that this was, curiously, the noisiest of all the galleries, and hence, an odd choice in which to install work that involved delicate sound.

Just beyond the last gallery was a garage like space, empty and undeveloped. It had been intended for an installation of used cars. But negotiations to make appropriate loans proved to be unsuccessful. Instead a series of mock up illustrations provided an inadequate impression of the artist’s intentions. It was a piece that might have worked.

When we visited with Rene Blouin, on Saturday morning, it first seemed that his galleries were quite empty. "Where is the art," I asked. Subtlety has never been my strong suit. Quite patiently, and with some amusement, he pointed out the tiny little flower, by Yoshihiro Suga, an artist featured in the Biennale, at the base of a column, as well as a delicate arrangement of meticulously carved flower petals in another gallery.

One should always approach his gallery with some caution. "I have been making scenes," he said with a laugh. With such subtle and fragile work on display Rene has been screening visitors to his space. School groups, not accompanied by a teacher, are encouraged to visit other galleries. It is not unusual for him to lecture on and enforce gallery etiquette. Outside his space are icons announcing that food, drink and smoking are not allowed. He is known to have informed one local critic that, while she is welcome to view the shows, please do not write about them. "I got tired of having to correct the mistakes."

While he can be rather firm in dealing with the bad habits of the public he is fiercely loyal to his artists. The exhibitions are viewed as a laboratory to present experimental ideas. But, he long ago gave up the notion of pane et circences.

For a time, he was primarily known for representing several of Canada’s foremost women artists: Betty Goodwin, Jana Sterbak, Genevieve Cadieux, Mona Hatoum and Barbara Steinman. Today, Sterbak and Steinman have left the gallery.

His next show will present work by the abstract painter, Yves Gaucher who died while the show was in its working phase. So it will be something of a memorial. A number of the artists that he represents have been shown in New York galleries, particularly, Jack Shainman in Chelsea. And, Blouin’s artists have been shown in numerous international exhibitions and Biennales.

Visits with Rene are always fun and witty. But there is also a very serious aspect as he has many valuable insights about art, not only in Canada, but internationally. As he expressed to me, he might have been a big time New York dealer, but he prefers the life he leads in Quebec. And, because he lives in the "provinces" and is not a threat, he gets to do what he wants and show what he wants while promoting the international reputation and careers of his artists.

When I first visited his gallery, years ago, it was in a run down building. The wooden floors of the halls were warped. There were many empty spaces and curious little sweat shops making garments and fur coats. Other dealers have come and gone. Being a gallerist in Montreal is more than challenging. But as Blouin hung in and prospered, other galleries began to gravitate to the same and a neighboring building. For a time, artists would rent a space for a month or two and stage a one man show.

Those days are now gone and the spaces are fully occupied. During this visit we even noted a spiffy new elevator. Good heavens. And, Montreal’s many government supported parallel spaces have moved in around him. So, largely because of his pioneering effort, Saint Catherine Street has become the nucleus of the gallery scene. While the art world in Montreal seems vital and exciting it is small by comparison to the greater activity of Toronto.

But, ah well, there is that je ne sais quois de Quebec. Until then, a bientot.

Y’All Come Back