There’s something adorably old-media about a year-end review; very Maclean’s collector’s edition, very Rex Murphy.
The conceits of chronology, and/or chronological reckonings of art production, seem hardly viable in the new media age. Technology, with our addicted participation, has defeated time-based readings of art and culture – if you don’t believe me, see how quickly you can find your favourite childhood holiday special online (The Donny and Marie 1978 Christmas Show, anyone?).
But what the holly. Allow me, then, to flick on my phonograph, stir the coal fire, pour myself a Bosom Caresser (with egg yolk and grenadine, naturally), and recite my fondest memories of the year-in-art, 2011. Where are my slippers?
Instant Coffee, There Is No Romance in Taking a Risk, at MKG127, Toronto
The year started off with a hot pink ka-boom with this layered, nutty and abundantly inventive assembly of works by Instant Coffee (IC), a Toronto-Vancouver collective. Loosely founded on studies of L.A.’s famous Watts Towers, IC’s show offered a near-replica of one of the towers, in bubblegum pink, a series of neatly made prints based on a tower silhouette, a tall, tiered sculpture made from wood scraps and colourful found objects, and a collection of their signature life-message silk-screen prints – sly, goofily abject phrases that would be at home on any slouching nerd’s T-shirt.
Would it be too much to ask for a sequel? The CN Tower’s right here.
Louise Noguchi, Marker, at Birch Libralato, Toronto
Part documentary, part video art spectacle, Noguchi’s Marker, projected large on the Birch Libralato wall, quietly, and without judgment, inspected, then prodded new meanings from, two profoundly resonant spaces: a site dedicated to an early Canadian missionary (a nosey botherer of aboriginals who went looking for a fight and got one), and an unapologetically patriotic memorial to Japan’s Second World War dead. In Noguchi’s video, neither space is easily unpacked, reducible to a single, agreed-upon message – but both look oddly lovely, in their own haunted way. Beauty and horror, pals to the end.
John Marriott, New and Selected Works, at Optica Centre for Contemporary Art, Montreal
Long overdue, this giddy assortment of Marriott’s sculptures, multiples, installations and videos concisely scratched the surface of 15-plus years of Marriott’s high grade, big brained artistic output. Toronto-based Marriott will never be a mass media phenomenon, an art star, because his work, while always full of fun, is too considered and not easily branded. But he could become a national treasure, if we treat him right. Marriott’s core gesture – taking the snore-inducing art-about-art game (now more of a pandemic) and turning it on its precious, didactic head – reveals just how clinical and academic conceptualism has become. Marriott’s work is generous and welcoming, not purse-lipped and sterile. Might we have this show in Marriott’s home town, please?
Lucy Tasseor Tutsweetok at Tannenbaum Sculpture Atrium, Art Gallery of Ontario, Toronto
