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Posts Tagged ‘Pop Art’
Pop Art, Folk Music, and… Buttons? (part one)
I got a chance to talk with Ana Miura the week before last.
Now, I had intended to write an article consisting mainly of my interview with Ana. That seems easy enough, right? Interview high-school friend turned accomplished performer, write article, approve comments. No. It’s not that easy after all. The problem is, everything that happened that night is worth relating.
Thankfully, not being a paid journalist, I can afford the word count. This article is split into two parts, to give Ana her due and to give you a chance to have lunch.
Bear with me, then, as I take you with me through a detailed account of the entire enchanting evening.
A couple of weeks back, my good friend Crystal sent me a Facebook invitation to something called ArtSparks, an event being held at the National Gallery of Canada. Over the years, I’ve learned not to pass up an invitation from Crystal, no matter how little information she may provide—that’s how I missed Slim Cessna’s Auto Club.
This time, there were full details of what the evening would entail: An after-hours tour of the Gallery’s collection of Pop Art (yes, please), a button-making workshop with Deb and Andrew O’Malley of Latest Artists (cool!), cash bar (enough said), and… a live performance by Ana Miura and Fred Guignon?
Sold.
See, I remember Ana Miura from high school. Even better, I remember her as a twelve-year-old girl running around the schoolyard in snowpants; now she’s the General Manager of the Ottawa Folk Festival. Still, despite having tickets to every day of last year’s Cisco Ottawa Bluesfest, and being friends on Facebook, I had yet to see her perform live. Besides getting a chance to fix that, I thought I might have the opportunity to talk to her. As queasy as it made me (and now I feel bad for those poor fourth-estate journalists that have tracked me down via Twitter or blogs over the years), I sent her a Facebook message. It ran along the lines of “Hi, remember me from high school? Want to do an interview? I will talk to your media person if you prefer.” I didn’t hear back. Great, I thought, I’m liable to be escorted out by security; better make sure I have a photographer.
When the photographer I chose (who had just barely missed accompanying me to the BASH’d! media call, so I owed her a favour) heard that Fred Guignon was on the bill, she couldn’t contain her excitement. Her inner giddy schoolgirl came right out and gushed about how he was the greatest lap steel player in Ottawa. Okay, I thought, my photographer’s going to faint. Hopefully she gets some good shots first.
Still, her excitement, added to the strong interest I already had, incited me to invite another friend (Pat) along, and he invited a date. The more the merrier.
After a long but satisfying dinner (consisting of a tofu burger for me) at Chez Lucien (where we unexpectedly ran into Susan Murphy and Ottawa Tonite’s own Cheryl Gain), Crystal and I walked through the Market to the Gallery. At night, Maman, the giant spider statue standing sentinel in the snow beside the path to the main entrance is even more imposing than by day. This was the first time I’d been to the Gallery at night; in fact, it was the first time I’d been to the Gallery since, well, since the Picasso exhibit was in town.
So I’m a bad patron of the arts. Don’t worry; I’m making up for lost time.
Once inside, we paid for our tickets and checked our coats, then went over to the tour lobby where the lovely Naomi Baker, a Gallery Interpreter and one of our hosts for the evening, signed us up for the tour and suggested we join the activities in the studio while we waited for it to begin.
Button-making. I know what you’re thinking: that doesn’t sound like something adults go out to do at night. I grew up with a button machine at home, and I used to have several felt banners full of 1980s-style buttons (mostly made of beer labels) hanging in my bedroom. Crystal and I were making buttons as volunteers at the National Museum of Science and Technology in our teens. To this day, I have a set of buttons in regular rotation to rival any hipster. Admit it: you like buttons too.
The artistic relevance here is that buttons are an art form that has endured in popular culture over the better part of the last century. It’s portable art, and definitely has its roots in Pop Art: the images we find around us, in terms of advertising as art, in terms of elements of a whole taken out of context, in terms of the nature of what constitutes art itself.
So, yes: button-making. If you can’t have fun expressing yourself making buttons, I’m not sure you can have fun at all.
Andrew O’Malley certainly has fun making buttons. We introduced ourselves and he immediately showed me one he had pinned to his t-shirt, with reflective dots on a reddish-brown background. “I just used a hole-punch to make this,” he said. Andrew has an intense but warm personality that stops just short of effusive, and makes you want to get involved in what he’s excited about. I looked at the materials laid out on the table. There were magazines, papers, scissors, and more glue sticks than I had seen in one place since elementary school.
Realizing I only had time to make one button before the tour, I found an advertisement in the back of the New Yorker with a small black-and-white picture of a couple sitting on a couch holding signs that said “burgers” and “tofu.” Cutting around the couple’s heads (what’s Photoshop?), I laid them over a background clipped from a picture of a Japanese painting; leaves of a tree that looked to me like vegetable cells under a microscope.
Standing in line for the button machine, while chatting with the other attendees, I had a look at the buttons they were preparing. Some people had four or six different designs, of varying degrees of propriety. None were uninteresting. When I got to the front of the line, I met Deb O’Malley, who is as warm as Andrew, but has a different, complementary, manner. She showed me how to cut out and press the button, and within seconds I had a new pin I could affix to my blazer.
We made our way out to the lobby. As the tour was about to begin, Naomi pulled me aside. “Ana remembers you from high school,” she said, “and would love to talk with you. She knew who you were immediately.” I cringed, wondering what I could have possibly done in high school to be remembered so vividly.
Our guide, Chris Vechsler, an energetic and obviously knowledgeable fellow, arrived and led us quickly through the Gallery, telling us about the upcoming Pop Life exhibit (on tour from the Tate Modern Gallery in London) and addressing the issue of the Gallery’s more controversial acquisitions.
This was the evening of the day, you may recall, that the Ottawa Citizen reported a joint project between the Gallery and the National Capital Commission to finance a new sculpture at Nepean Point, behind the Gallery, as the first piece of a future sculpture garden. Predictably, talk turned to the Voice of Fire, a controversial piece purchased by the Gallery in the early nineties. Much of the controversy surrounding these two particular pieces is that they are not the work of Canadian artists—thus they make the news, while the Gallery’s vast collection of Canadian art and tremendous support of Canadian artists never graces the front page, if journalists notice it at all. Some things never change; among them, sadly, is the politics of art.
As we entered the Contemporary Art collection, escorted by three security guards, we passed by the other tour group and into a room with a line of bricks on the floor. So as not to spoil the experience for you, I will say only that, unlike absolutely everyone else in the group, I did the opposite of what, Chris explained, the artist intended. Since I was the only one who did, I wonder if I actually didn’t miss the point of the piece, but whether the message has changed over the years because of the influence of art like this.
Vague? I’m sorry, but you’ll have to go see the installation yourself.
This was the point when we would have been able to see the work of Marcel Duchamp (notable for The Fountain), save for the security guard not having the right key. A bit disappointing, but reason enough to go back to the Gallery sometime soon.
After a brief visit to two other installations (note: as Crystal learned in the room with the mirrored floor, if you’re going to wear a skirt to the Gallery, make it a long one), we headed to the Pop Art exhibit.
I’m rather proud of myself. When Chris asked “What do you know about Andy Warhol?” I refrained from mentioning Valerie Solanas (author of the rather extreme SCUM Manifesto, who shot and seriously wounded Warhol in 1968). As ubiquitous as Andy Warhol’s work is (I think he may have got my fifteen minutes of fame, and a few other people’s), seeing it up close is worth the visit. With works by James Rosenquist (whose home, studio, warehouse, and his personal collection of his own work were destroyed in the California wildfires last spring) and George Segal (whose farm was the site where the performance pieces called the “Happenings” started, uh, happening) in the same room, you get a satisfying immersion into the spirit of the Pop Art era.
Chris, and I’m rather glad he did, decided we had enough time to go quickly through the (Canadian artist) David Hoffos exhibit Scenes from the House Dream. It’s very dark, both in lighting and in general mood. Chris cautioned us before we went in, “Not all of the people you will see in here are real.” So as not to give too much away, all I’ll say is that he’s absolutely right. The exhibit consists materially of a series of dioramas, televisions, and projectors, set up to create the very convincing illusion of moving figures. The dreamlike quality of it all is exceptionally unnerving; this is what you might imagine a moving hologram would be like. Since it was after-hours, the illusion was cut short by the televisions shutting down (probably to conserve energy). The exhibit’s only still on until February 14th, so you and I have a limited time to go see it.
As we left the installation, I felt my iPhone vibrate with a text message from Pat, who had been on an earlier tour: “Music started early!!!” So much for concerts in Ottawa never starting on time. We headed back down to the lobby to see Ana and Fred play.
In the second part of this article, you will meet Ana Miura, find out how a ukulele can get you a free ride, and hear how road trips don’t always turn out the way you want. Meanwhile, I suggest Danny Michel’s cover of David Bowie’s Andy Warhol and, of course, TransCanada, from Ana Miura’s recent EP Tenacious Heart, available through iTunes and at better music stores.
Andrew Snowdon is a theatregoer, concert attendee, and writer living in Lowertown, Ottawa, sandwiched between a MacBook and a typewriter, with a cup of coffee.
