MOVING TOWARD THE LIGHT
OLIVER GIRLING. September 12, 1996 Ü Print Edition
detail from Aliyah, copyright Eldon Garnet 1996
Has contemporary Canadian art really got so tedious that, at
international art fairs, they're telling "boring Canadian" jokes? My
short answer, based solely on two major museums visited in the last
couple of weeks, the National Gallery of Canada in Ottawa and the
Montreal Museum of Fine Arts, is yes.
The Canadian offerings on view at both institutions were, with a
couple of exceptions, dreary in surface and color, ultra-conventional
in form and discreet to the point of camouflage with their
surroundings.
The larger reasons for this state of affairs can be speculated on; I
won't do it here. Suffice it to say that there are almost no paintings
in the two displays. The photo-text works are simple to the point of
conceptual starvation, while the sculptures and installations often
depict fragments of unseen, greater wholes, which gives them an air of
dissatisfaction and incompletion.
(For the record, my own interest in this is as a painter, represented
in the National's collection. If you're interested, I could off the
top of my head name 10 artists who would transform the world's view of
contemporary Canadian art overnight.)
I prefer photographs to "photo-based art," in spite of current wisdom
that says un-digitized photos are like paintings made with the
artist's fingers tied back.
Take, for example, Eldon Garnet's current show of large photo-prints
mounted on aluminum. The show is called Aliyah, which in Hebrew means
being called to the light; the return of diaspora Jews to Israel; the
novice mounting the podium to read from the Torah; or, most literally,
illumination snatched from obscurity.
The pictures are neither boring nor dumb. They're ambiguous in their
readings, rich in both color and surface texture, and a study in
chiaroscuro: the juxtaposition of lights and darks made most famous by
Rembrandt. Let's say the word -- they're painterly!
In spite of the uplifting title, there's plenty of gloom here.
Followers of the artist's photography will recognize the mood of the
work from his previous show at Genereux-Grunwald. But my memory of
that work is of a full-blown morbidity, leavened perhaps by some
gallows humor, but on the whole bleak. At first gasp, this show feels
to be in the same territory, but a closer look reveals the
superficiality of this reading.
Human flesh still reads as a papery envelope: covered up with dirt,
bruised, polypous, a poor and inadequate covering against the elements
and their ultimate, inevitable encroachment on our autonomy.
In these photographs, though, it isn't the grave that beckons and
threatens -- though that's a viewer's first impression of these shiny,
dark and light squares with body parts hovering in the middles. It's
work -- human toil and activity -- that generates sweat and grime. But
the suggestion is that the bodies are creating the pictorial
definitions, coming out of, rather than being embraced by, the
peripheral blackness.
And if the humor was a whisper before, now it's out there, explicit,
sometimes uncorked as light self-parody of the project as a whole. For
example, a dog's snout is just recognizable where the viewer is used
to finding a human body-part. A crazily upside-down woman's face, far
from being the victim of some trauma, is probably getting her hair
washed.
And a man's dirty elbow that first looks like barbecued meat is
actually wrapped backwards on his own back, on which he's carrying
another man.
In this last picture, the soiled white arm works as a light source
that illuminates the black man on the white man's back. The need for a
light source in the middle of the image dictates the picture's
hierarchy, which for obvious reasons could have set up an
uncomfortable reading of the photograph's intentions. Remarkably, I
don't think that reading even suggests itself.
Instead, it's an evocative image of human cooperation, of two men
"bonded" in a way that neither the New Age nor gay liberation has
thought of, as far as I know. So how did Garnet (who's also a novelist
and a public sculptor) come up with it? I don't know; maybe in moving
toward the light.