Monday, 27 February 2017


Some things never change. 

I visit my 102-year-old-mom at the seniors residence where she lives on a regular basis. I get a feel for the place by observing the goings on. 

My mom is happy there most likely because she is free of responsibility. There are no meals to make, dishes to wash, nor is there dirty laundry to sort. Finally. 

Born in 1914 on a farm, mom lost her mother at a very young age and as a result, was expected to participate in housecleaning, meal preparation and the care of two younger siblings. She hated fetching the milk cow in the field at the end of the day. Afraid that she might run into "des hommes chaud" (drunk men), she avoided all possible encounters by hiding behind shrubs and bushes on her way to find the cowMom decided early on that she had to marry someone from the city. 

But back to the residence. My mother is an introvert and keeps her interaction with the human race (other residents) to a minimum. The door to her room remains open much of the time. When she isn't sleeping, she observes residents and staff who walk by in much the same way as she might view a parade of clowns. Her philosophy? Watch but don't mix.

I always had trouble relating to her approach but it might be wise in some respects. A seniors residence is a little microcosm of society much like high school. My experience with the latter wasn't particularly positive so naturally, I dread reliving a repeat performance (in the event that I live to be that old).

From my mom's room, I can easily hear what is happening in the common area. Sometimes all is quiet, at other times there are "fun" activities for the residents. I think there's something called a monkey toss....I daren't ask.

Once I overheard heard an argument between resident 1 & 2 that went something like this:

#1:  "Where's my paper?
#2:  "I don't have your paper.
#1:  "Yes you do, I saw you walk away with it."
#2:  "That was my paper."
#1:  "No it wasn't. You don't get the paper delivered anymore."
#2:  "Yes I do."
#1:  "No you don't. You stopped it. That was my paper. Go and get my paper in your 
#2:  "No that's my paper."
#1:  "No it isn't you old bird. You look like an old bird."

Taking into consideration that residents are often confused, it stands to reason that clashes occur, but what I found particularly juvenile was the name calling. Will we all regress? I've heard that older folk don't care about niceties anymore. Maybe everyone buries their frustrations for ninety years until the pressure cooker pops and real little monsters emerge. 

I'd better have my sketch pad ready.

Tuesday, 7 February 2017


Claudine Ascher
Claudine Ascher is one of the most accomplished individuals I know, gifted in so many respects. It's easy to draft a list of positive attributes to describe her: intelligent, assertive, fearless, dedicated, kind and extremely creative.

As a gallery curator and educator, she has made significant contributions to many an art career, but as an artist, she never ceases to astonish and inspire. Her singular skill as a clay sculptor / draughtsperson coupled with an innate penchant for the phantasmagorical alter our perceptions of reality. We are compelled to burrow through the wormhole of her imagination to arrive, emotionally altered, at some unexpected destination.

Ascher's background in theatre, design, fiction writing and dance feeds her creative process. Notably through the latter, she reveals her exhaustive knowledge of the human body, shows us how it moves and interacts within a three-dimensional environment. 

I've seen Ascher's sculptures and drawings in various settings over the years but the mise en scene at Le Musée des Maîtres et Artisans du Québec is a perfect backdrop for her work. The space brings out the stunning beauty and subtleties of each piece. Formerly, the Musée was a Neo-gothic Presbyterian church which went through a couple of transformations, from Catholic chapel to the singular museum of today. The magnificent never-ending dark wooden trusses, large stained-glass windows and artefacts relay the building's history and spiritual traditions. 

Clay is a naturally-occuring, organic, building material as is wood.  The "communion" of clay sculpture, unframed drawings and wooden beams in this otherworldly space is breathtaking. They were made for each other.

Ascher's work is largely autobiographical yet universal. Born in Egypt, her early childhood was spent in Brazil after which she immigrated with her family to Canada. She coped with the deep-rooted struggles that come with adolescent displacement. There is way more to resettlement than merely learning a new language and customs. Introspection inevitably comes with the territory.

Falling angels greet us on each side of the space. They sit or flop on clay clouds.  Who but Ascher would even think of making clouds out of clay? "The Bomb" and "The Belly Flop" refer to the fallen angels of literary fiction but these are not unhappy sinners cast out from heaven. They are women who seem to be enjoying the fall. Ascher puts a new whimsical spin on a well-known tale which invites deeper reflection. Shall we give into temptation?  The answer is a resounding yes!

Falling Angel:  The Bomb (2 parts)
Falling Angel:  The Belly Flop (2 parts)
Ascher loves a challenge and this is evident in her mastery of trompe l'oeil. All that she creates, tools, furniture, clothing and more look deceptively real. But it's all an illusion. "If Narcissus Could See Me Now" is an incredibly fragile vanity made of clay. Lipsticks, creams, perfumes and other cosmetics/tools peddled to improve the appearance of women float in the choppy seas of the dressing table's surface, while in the mirror, a hand reaches out of the water. Someone is drowning. A lonely dress shoe, also in clay, lies discarded on the floor.  Emotional turmoil surfaces as we unwittingly peel the impassioned layers that haunt the work.  

This powerful sculpture is nearly life-size, 44” high, 24” wide, 12” deep and coloration is achieved exclusively though glazing.

If Narcissus Could See Me Now (7 parts)

"Autobiography" below is a phenomenal pièce de résistance. Books, an old-fashioned dial phone and slides (remember those?), a lamp, binder, paper, pens, stamps, file folders, partly used paint tubes, a desk and chair as well as other sundry objects that describe an artist's career all seem authentic. The scale of the work is impressive when one considers the size of the average oven used to fire ceramic sculpture.  

I'm tempted to pick up a sheet of paper until the realization hits!  This thin slab is made of clay.  52 elements combine to create the illusion that someone has just stepped out to get a cup of coffee.

Autobiography (52 parts)

Many of us live with some kind of elephant in the room defined as an obvious problem or difficult situation that no one wants to talk about. Ascher creates a powerful visual metaphor by juxtaposing large, delicate drawings of three elephants on a folding panel against a small ceramic sculpture of a young girl's dress perched on a transparent plexiglas podium. A tiny pair of shoes is placed underneath the dress on a smaller white podium recalling the proportions of a child that cannot be seen.  Perhaps the invisible little girl resides in all of us. I feel like Munch's "Scream".

The Elephant in the Room

To say that all the works in this show are compelling is an understatement. In the "Waiting Room" below, a series of chairs acquires human attributes. 

I relate to these works at a very fundamental level. Waiting is a national pastime in Québec, especially when dealing with the medical system. The sick and weary wait, and wait, and wait, until they are permanently glued to their respective chairs. When names are finally called, body parts rip off the core and are left behind. Humanity remains permanently mutilated in a world devoid of respect.

Waiting Room

Ascher adds to the visual experience of this exhibition via bilingual (French and English) poems/prose which accompany some of the tonal works.  Her writings about the "Waiting Room" are revealing:

All that waiting, all that not knowing,
all those moments suspended in time,
neither here nor there.
It’s a process, after all.

There is a moment when substance and spirit align,
When where feet tread, and what hands touched
Matter more than the not.

Tout ce temps passé à attendre
Toute cette incertitude 
Tous ses moments passés suspendus 
Ni ici, ni là-bas.
C’est un processus après tout.

Il y a un moment quand le corps 
et l’esprit s’alignent
quand la où les pieds sont passés 
et ce que les mains ont touchés
sont plus réels que le rien.

"Insomnia" below is one of the works in the grouping above. I am reminded of a famous quote from Shakespeare's Hamlet : “To die, to sleep – to sleep, perchance to dream – ay, there’s the rub, for in this sleep of death what dreams may come…” 

...but Ascher's insomnia asks "Are we ever truly awake?"


There is a difference between 
sleep and wakefulness?

Am I awake now?


Y a-till une différence entre 
le sommeil et le réveil?

Suis-je réveillé maintenant?


Claudine Ascher shares intimate stories that pinch a universal nerve. The power of the work lies in its vulnerability and compels us to look within ourselves. 

This exceptional exhibition runs until the 26th of February 2017 and is an event that should not be missed.

Saturday, 14 January 2017


January is whipping by. The weather varies from wet to frozen to bloody cold, but life is good.  I'm busy with a number of projects that make me feel positively toasty inside.  

I've discovered the joy of working with others. Groups can be as small as a duo, trio or a pack of five or more. A French expression applies here, "L'union fait la force", loosely translated as "There is strength in numbers". 

Some affiliations begin in a nebulous way. A fellow exhibitor in a group event might say, "Hey, I really like where you're going with this, how about we plan a show together based on theme X?"  Other groups are more structured, organized entities. 

Working with others gets projects going. A contagion of enthusiasm increases personal production as we inspire one another.  It's not uncommon to hear "Oh that's so cool, how did you do that?"

Artwork is generally created in isolation, requires focus, and as a result it's easy to put aside the painfully laborious paperwork plus stuff that comes with the job. In addition to being visual artists, each of us possesses a slew of other abilities. Some are adept at filling out forms, writing curatorial statements, grant applications and press releases, translation, marketing, while others are experts in the art of conversation, unafraid of the phone or schmoozing. All of these talents lead to interesting opportunities. Together we can move mountains, alone we stare at anthills.

In fairness, these unions don't always work out, personalities can clash, but it doesn't matter. Like in art, process and learning is the important thing. If we choose our collaborators wisely, everyone wins and that's the way I like it!

Friday, 30 December 2016


My working rhythm...wonky at the best of times, evaporates during the festive season. An entire train of thought, mindset, or mood turns into smoke and gently fades into nowhere. It's quite worrisome but experience tells me that eventually all falls into place. It had better because I have a very busy 2017 lined up.

I've managed to drift in and out of my studio for short periods but haven't been able to really focus due to holiday priorities such as gift buying and fudge making. I mostly start a few things or experiment with techniques that I think might work for a new piece. Goofing around is extremely valuable for creativity in the long run. 

Artist friends and I are planning group events. It's invigorating to exchange ideas and to learn from one another. Artmaking is generally a solitary activity but working on collective projects contributes to everyone's personal growth.

I had a look at my inventory of completed works for 2016 and found that my list was a bit flimsy in comparison to previous years. "Why?" I wondered, but in a flash it came to me. I worked on unusual projects during the year.

Tina Struthers and I created the permanent installation "Envol Vers l'Avenir" for the Tourist Office in Île-Perrot and after that, I spent a couple of months creating an artist book for the "Irresistible Forces" show. Each page was a work in itself, intensely time consuming. I learned a lot from both projects. Working in 3-D for the installation was a thrilling eye-opener while creating a funky book presented other new challenges. 

Here's a quickie video of "The Devil and My Artist Book". 

Some older works are still piled up on the floor waiting to be finished. I managed to complete two drawings that I had started many moons ago, mixed media Girdle Ghosts and Sacred Talons.

Girdle Ghosts

Sacred Talons

I keep reading articles about how dreadful 2016 was and how the world can expect a repeat performance in 2017. Who knows what lies ahead? In my mind's eye I see a famous photo of Henri Matisse holding a long pole attached to a paintbrush which allowed him to paint on paper that was pinned to his ceilings and walls. Although broken by ill health, he still managed to create electrifying imagery. I think I'll print up that image and hang it on my studio wall.  It's better than reading the news.

Friday, 16 December 2016


Living in the suburbs has its advantages. Life is a bit less hectic in the boonies; the environment is greener, the air purer.  But downtown is generally where the action is.  Getting there is usually no big deal but it does seem like a production in the middle of winter.  Depending on the traffic and weather conditions, it can take anywhere from 40 minutes to two hours to get to our favourite metropolis from here in Vaudreuil-Dorion. During a snowstorm, one might never make it there at all.  

Thanks to CBC radio morning host Mike Finnerty, many now refer to Montreal as "orange cone city". Navigating the roads is a challenge.  Our urban centre is a zoo because of huge infrastructure projects all going on at the same time.  Overpasses are being torn down and rebuilt and many roads are dug up to upgrade old sewer systems that are falling apart. 

On top of all this, Montreal has always had an interesting approach to one-way roads.  There can be up to three in a row all going the same way.  It's sometimes possible to find one going in an opposite direction after driving around in increasingly larger squares for 15 minutes or so.  


One minute gesture
On December 3rd, my artist buddies and I decided to participate in a "Model Drawing Happening" organized by Artneuf in Montreal.  Because of multiple detours, we got lost in Verdun, which is no where near the Parc Lafontaine area.  Luckily we managed to make it with time to spare. 

The event took place in a theatre. Under staged lighting, 5 models took a variety of poses.  They mostly posed nude or partially dressed, some used props or draped sheer fabrics around their bodies. They were extremely agile and flexible, and the scenes they created were delicious in colour, texture, and drama. There were many artists and no easels which meant that we could only draw in our sketchbooks. 

Imposed limits are often a good thing.

I sat at a distance. Pen markers allowed me to work quickly and I had to live with whatever lines I put down. As usual, some drawings were good and others were horrendous.  It takes a while to get going.  We warmed up with a few one minute drawings. I often wish I could warm up for hours.  I love quickie drawings. They are so animated!  

In order to avoid creating drawings that were overly tight, I decided to do a semi-blind contour drawing to continue loosening up.  It's always a challenge to find the right balance between expression, elegant lines, and some degree of accuracy (or not).

Semi-blind contour plus a bit of colour and texture

The poses became longer, varying between 15 and 40 minutes.  The latter tend to be too long for me particularly when I'm holding a sketchbook.  I moved about to capture the spirit of  models I found particularly interesting and ended up sitting high up in the stairs for the one below.
Longer pose

3 models

Male model done in brush pen

The event was invigorating. I hadn't worked from models for a long while and realized how much I had missed it.  The next "Happening" is in March sometime so I may once again brave orange cone city to relive the experience.  Montreal will be celebrating its 375th birthday so hopefully, the cones will have disappeared by then.  Nothing but the best for our visitors.


There are also wonderful things to draw in the suburbs.  Karine Francoeur was inspired by Urban Sketchers and decided to form a group in our outlying region called (Sub)urban Sketchers V.-S.  Four of us met for the first time on November 27th at the Musée Régional de Vaudreuil-Soulanges. What we didn't have in numbers, we made up for in energy.  

This being Québec (rather on the cold side), we decided to draw objects that were inside the museum.  One of the interesting exhibits on until August 6th, 2017 is entitled "Au coeur de la Papouasie - Une périlleuse expédition de Daniel Bertolino" which roughly translated means "In the heart of Papua - A perilous expedition by Daniel Bertolino".  A documentary filmmaker recipient of the Order of Canada, Bertolino brought back some unusual objects from Papua New Guinea.  I was especially enthralled by a sacred mask made from the skull of a wild boar and spent a great deal of time drawing it. 

"Whoda thunk" I would come across a sacred skull mask from Papua New Guinea in suburbia?

The group is hoping to grow and meet once a month in different locations within the region. We are opting for indoor opportunities during the winter months since none of us appear to be terribly excited about drawing outside under freezing conditions.  I guess it all depends on what comes into our field of vision.

Friday, 9 December 2016


Une exposition d’oeuvres de techniques variées à la Galerie de la Ville, 
Dollard-des-Ormeaux, Québec, Canada
Conservatrice : Claudine Ascher ~ Conservatrice invitée : Diane Collet

Galerie de la Ville - Exposition "Récidivistes" - Photo de Myriam Frenette

Le temps que je prenne une respiration, je suis transportée dans le monde ‘à donner des frissons dans le dos’ de Monica Brinkman et Tina Struthers.  En entrant dans la galerie, une explosion de couleurs et de textures vous invitent à avancer.  J’hésite sur le seuil.  

Qu’est-ce qui se passe ici?  

Un travail soigné, une virtuosité, une qualité artistique et une créativité tout à fait éblouissants.

Je suis envoûtée, fascinée, en pénétrant doucement dans l’enceinte de la galerie. Un rapide tour d’horizon dévoile un cosmos d’extraterrestres sous verre, de créatures sous-marines, de super-héros/héroïnes, et de ces pointes en très grand nombre. Je suis dans une pièce aux mille merveilles qui dépassent de loin la réalité et je me suis rétrécie comme Alice pour me permettre d’explorer ce microcosme distendu.  Des couleurs vives maquillent un élixir alchimique de pensées et de sentiments complexes.  

Tina Struthers - Photo de Myriam Frenette
Tina Struthers a grandi à Le Cap en Afrique du Sud, a immigré au Canada en 2008 puis s’est installée au Québec en 2011.  La majeure partie de son oeuvre porte sur l’expérience du déplacement.

Le déracinement est un processus intéressant. Comme une plante devenue trop grande pour son pot, les racines se plaignent un peu lorsqu’elles sont initialement retirées de leur contenant en vue d’un rempotage éventuel, mais finalement elles s’adaptent et apprécient la marge d’espace additionnelle que leur procure le nouveau pot plus grand et la terre ajoutée. 

Remarquablement, en moins de cinq ans, Struthers a appris le français et s’est parfaitement intégrée au sein de la communauté. S’impliquant activement dans des projets de médiation culturelle et dans la création de commandes de grande envergure pour la région, elle est une artiste multidisciplinaire, une couturière et une conceptrice de costumes pour le théâtre et la danse grandement respectées. 
Ses réalisations soulignent son incroyable force de caractère. Elle est l’image d’un lapin Energizer discipliné, brûlant son énergie sur commande. Faisant preuve d’une excellente force de concentration, elle est un bourreau de travail qui ne semble trouver son plaisir qu’en faisant deux choses à la fois (tel qu’en cousant ensemble un de ses éléments textiles tout en pensant à son prochain projet). Possédée d’un esprit d’acrobate (elle adore grimper et suspendre des choses), elle repousse constamment les frontières de ses médiums.

Entrelacés dans chacune des pièces d’art se précisent les préoccupations environnementales, les différences entre l’Afrique du Sud et le Canada, les effets de l’eau et du vent, les racines et le développement, les créatures fantastiques et les spécimens provenant du plus profond de son imagination, la pluie ou son absence, les ombres, la nostalgie face aux sons et aux rythmes des mots afrikaners, les blocs de construction, et les couleurs vives rappelant les textiles africains. 

"I Need My Cape"
Parfois notre super-héros a besoin de Cape Town.
Vue arrière de "I Need My Cape"
La fermeture éclair ouverte révèle une colonne vertébrale 
(sa force à l’intérieur)

Détail de  "I Need My Cape"

Ces oeuvres magnifiques sont chargées de sens provenant souvent du passé de Struthers. "Patina" révèle une cuirasse de peau endurcie, agrémentée de parures, moulant le torse d’une femme et qui n’arrive pas complètement à la protéger des agressions de la vie.  Certaines proviennent de l’intérieur (de naissance), alors que d’autres attaques découlent de sources externes. Avec la patine du temps, le bouclier renforce et transforme le corps en celui d’une super-héroïne. 

"Patina" by Tina Struthers

Tout réside toujours dans les détails. Un gros plan de "Patina" révèle un perlage tout à fait exquis entrelacé de biais élégant et de tissu coloré.  Le torse est garni de pointes dans son dos. Curieusement, ce sont des pointes douces.

Detail de "Patina"

Pointes dans le dos de "Patina"

Ayant grandi au bord de l’océan, Struthers est particulièrement fascinée par les créatures exotiques qui produisent leur propre lumière dans les sombres profondeurs secrètes de nos mers. Ces créatures deviennent la métaphore idéale de sa propre odyssée à travers les continents. Bien que toutes les œuvres dégagent une extrême puissance, je suis attirée dans chacune de ces pièces par la richesse des détails et les contorsions de ses espèces sauvages. Le jeu de la clarté et de l’obscurité fascine Struthers. Elle s’anime lorsqu’elle est témoin du changement des ombres projetées comme par magie sur les murs et les planchers. "Personne ne peut saisir les ombres", dit-elle.  

"Time to grow"

"Time to grow' ~ contorsions


Yellow Specimen

Détail de Yellow Specimen

Une partie de "Amans" et ses ombres frappantes

"Amans" – Regard à l’intérieur

En Afrique, il n’y a pas suffisamment d’eau. En revanche, le Canada en a en abondance.  Struthers habitait près de l’océan mais l’eau était inutilisable. Ayant grandi dans un pays où l’eau est une matière première précieuse, elle déplore le gaspillage excessif. Une société du prêt-à-jeter contamine ce qui donne la vie à tous les organismes vivants. Une chasseuse aux trésors dynamique, Struthers réutilise le matériel restant des robes de mariée qu’elle confectionne, recycle les objets trouvés, et fait ses courses dans des magasins d’occasion à la recherche de précieux tissus provenant de biens patrimoniaux.  

La peinture en techniques mixtes "Waste" commence avec un arrière-plan de papier froissé, de dentelle, de métal provenant de cassettes audio, et de peinture. Des vis sont insérées dans les côtés du panneau. Des fils qui percent des fragments de tuyaux en caoutchouc tranchés sont attachés aux vis, tendus au-dessus de la sous-structure de sorte qu’ils donnent une impression de flotter, engendrant un effet de vacillement. Cette oeuvre impressionnante incarne la beauté des choses rejetées.

Détail de "Waste"

Monica Brinkman - Photo de Myriam Frenette
Monica Brinkman a passé ses étés sur une plage océane du Nouveau-Brunswick et à un chalet d’été au Lake of Bays, en Ontario  (Rabbit Bay). La fille d’un père immigrant allemand et d’une mère acadienne des Maritimes, elle se sent particulièrement choyée à l’effet que ses meilleurs souvenirs d’enfance proviennent d’excursions quotidiennes dans des endroits imprévisibles, éloignés et isolés. 

Elle prétendait être une exploratrice/biologiste marine et ramenait à sa maison pour dissection scientifique de nombreux spécimens morts échoués sur la côte. Elle examinait chaque organisme de façon détaillée et, par le jeu et l’imagination, développa une passion pour les détails et les textures de la vie géologique et marine, une fascination qui se poursuit encore aujourd’hui.

Ces aventures offraient le cadre parfait dans le développement de son approche éclectique avec la mosaïque. Aucun déchet ne jonchait la plage du Nouveau-Brunswick à part quelques morceaux de verre brisé qui, à son esprit, se métamorphosait en verre précieux. Des gemmes vertes et ambrées provenaient des bouteilles de boissons gazeuses et de bière. Des joyaux bleus étaient plus rares et le morceau de verre rouge occasionnel était appelé un "rubis de l’océan". La pierre, le verre et la vie marine changeaient de couleur sous l’eau. Brinkman est devenue "accro de la lumière".

En Ontario, elle passait son temps à courir les bois à l’intérieur desquels elle avait créé un monde imaginaire qui l’effrayait et la stimulait à la fois. Curieusement, de telles émotions opposées donnent vie à plusieurs de ses créations actuelles.

Brinkman était horrifiée et anéantie par la pauvreté et la souffrance dont elle a été témoin lors de voyages avec sa famille au Brésil et à Haïti. Elle demeure tout aussi troublée par les difficultés auxquelles doivent faire face quotidiennement les Autochtones canadiens.

Elle est fortement engagée auprès de la communauté. Ses ateliers et ses projets créatifs s’adressent à tout le monde incluant les enfants, les personnes âgées, et les personnes ayant une déficience intellectuelle. Les mosaïques embellissent diverses municipalités ; notamment un vieux tracteur récupéré de la ferraille, un article mis au rebut, des murs, des planchers et du mobilier transformés par magie en objets de valeur aux allures uniques.

"Jolene" de Monica Brinkman

Detail du coeur de Jolene

"Jolene" est un autoportrait. Certaines personnes ont le coeur sur la main mais Jolene exhibe des coeurs sans aucun complexe sur diverses parties de son corps. Un gros coeur se développe en dehors de sa poitrine alors qu’une rangée de coeurs se change en colonne vertébrale. 

Les yeux de Jolene
Des yeux reproduits sur les deux côtés du torse signifient qu’elle ne fermera pas les yeux devant les gens dans le besoin.

Comme Struthers, Brinkman ne s’oppose pas aux pointes bien que celles-ci se manifestent différemment, ici sous la forme naturelle de cornes de chevreuil qui saillissent dans le dos symbolisant la conscience de soi et la résilience. 

Parce que son approche envers les mosaïques n’est pas traditionnelle, plusieurs de ses oeuvres tridimensionnelles se tournent vers l’assemblage.  Presque tout peut être "suprarecyclé" (upcycled) et converti en art.

Cornes de conscience de soi

"Make Time for Tea" (ci-dessous) est un espoir de paix. Le thé est le deuxième breuvage le plus consommé au monde. Brinkman avait l’habitude de servir le thé au salon de thé d’une boutique de courtepointe, et l’expérience a réaffirmé ses convictions à l’effet que partager le thé est une manière élégante et efficace d’apprendre à connaître et à comprendre les autres. D’heureux et de tristes moments sont fragmentés dans chaque personne. Des petits morceaux de connaissance, des petits morceaux d’émotion, des petits morceaux de tasses et de soucoupes brisées, une avalanche de petits morceaux réunis dans cette oeuvre très élaborée qui ressemble curieusement à une courtepointe.

"Make Time For Tea" - photo de Myriam Frenette

Détail de "Make Time For Tea"
"Seebriese" (Air marin ou "sea breeze" en allemand) fait allusion aux origines de Brinkman et à ses mondes imaginaires du Nouveau-Brunswick et de Lake of Bays.  Une corne de chevreuil sort de son cou, elle fait une avec la terre, partie de la faune sauvage.  Une petite boîte encastrée dans l’abdomen contient un papillon, un spécimen conservé par un collectionneur passionné.  Est-il mort ou vivant? L’artiste a des papillons dans l’estomac au moment d’explorer l’inconnu.

Cette oeuvre est extrêmement complexe. Les couleurs sont riches et raffinées et les matériaux contrastants invitent le spectateur à explorer la surface, pour voir ce que voit Brinkman. Elle est sans équivoque, "Nous ne sommes pas séparés de la nature, tout est  interconnecté".

Seebriese - Photo de Myriam Frenette

Elle adore travailler avec des miroirs qui reflètent la vie. Lorsqu’utilisés dans les mosaïques, tout est en mouvement. Dans ce gros plan, les fragments de miroir, le tissu et la "boîte abdomen-papillon" imprévisible révèlent comment des détails complexes deviennent un ensemble envoûtant.

Une touche de fantaisie anime "The Looker", un jeu de mots / images.  Brinkman voit la vie dans les tons de gris, rien n'est noir et blanc pour elle.  La société doit regarder au-delà des apparences et elle souhaite que les femmes joueront un rôle actif dans la création d'une communauté où il n'y a pas d'extrêmes.  Une défenseure de la paix, elle est activement impliquée dans World Citizen Artists, un groupe international d'individus créatifs qui croient qu'ils peuvent ensemble apporter des changements positifs dans le monde.

"The Looker" - Photo by Myriam Frenette

Cette exposition impressionnante et multicouches ne doit pas être manquée.  Elle se poursuivra à la Galerie de la Ville, 12001 boul. de Salaberry, Dollard-des-Ormeaux jusqu'au 18 décembre 2016. 

Traduction:  Louise Mancini, Centre des arts de Dollard