SNAP at 40, Part II: "Nobody thought it would last more than a year anyway..."
oral history of the Society of Northern Alberta Print-artists (SNAP), compiled from artist statements, reviews, articles from SNAP's newsletter, and interviews with members of the Edmonton printmaking community
copies of the publication are available here; the text on these pages contains additional photos and text cut from the print publication due to space and budget constraints
Introduction • Part I • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8
oral history of the Society of Northern Alberta Print-artists (SNAP), compiled from artist statements, reviews, articles from SNAP's newsletter, and interviews with members of the Edmonton printmaking community
copies of the publication are available here; the text on these pages contains additional photos and text cut from the print publication due to space and budget constraints
Introduction • Part I • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8
Above: Work by SNAP’s founding members, 1. Marc Siegner, I think I’ll sell the house where I’m at and move to Santa Barbara, photointaglio with watercolour, 1988; 2. Robin Smith-Peck, Shelter Search, etching, relief, 1987; 3. Walter Jule, A Circular Dark, photointaglio, 1987; 4. Liz Ingram, Thought Refraction (Katelhön series #5), photointaglio, drypoint, 1988; 5. Karen Dugas, Embrace the Maelstrom, photointaglio, 1991; 6. Rebecca Aronyk, Fission, lithograph, screenprint, embossment, 1982; 7. Evelyn David, There is a jungle in my soul, mezzotint, 1988; 8. Barbara Johnston, Fallen, inkjet printed artist book, non-adhesive ‘blizzard binding,’ laser engraved wood box, 2021
Meaghan Baxter: The Society of Northern Alberta Print-artists (SNAP) was conceived over a lunch between Walter Jule, Robin Smith-Peck, Marc Siegner and several other local artists as a way to meet a need within the city's arts community. [1]
PRINT GROUP MEETING — May 26, 1982 — 12:00:
Present at meeting: Walter Jule, Liz Ingram, Robin Peck, Marc Siegner, Karen Dugas, Evelyn David, Barb Johnston, Rebecca Aronyk [2]
Robin Smith-Peck: Well we were just having lunch, and then after we finished Walter said go back and write it up, this was your first meeting.
Karen Curry: That is obviously the initiation of SNAP, because there’s this amazing printmaking program at the UofA, and then all these people graduate, and with nowhere to work, unless you somehow manage to stay associated with the printmaking department.
Barbara Johnston: We were just senior level students facing the loss of the equipment and facilities necessary to carry on printmaking (I remember the situation feeling like skiing down-hill into a brick wall!) and deciding to band together to create an open studio to be able to continue.
Meaghan Baxter: Smith-Peck and Siegner had been hired as printmaking techs at the University of Alberta and were seeing students graduate each year and ultimately having to leave or stop making prints because there was nowhere to work once they left school. [3]
Robin Smith-Peck: I recall that whole meeting as being more about pleading the cause, because somebody was going to have to do the work. I think Walter just felt that they had given it a couple of shots, and it had been met with some pushback because he’s so affiliated with the university, so everybody was thinking this is just more of that. So I think all we thought about, at that time, we knew we had steps we had to complete in order to make something happen.
Barbara Johnston: I seem to recall it was Walter who came up with the acronym “SNAP.”
Robin Smith-Peck: The whole SNAP name was simply so I could get the bylaws in by that Friday, because we were signing the lease on the place so we needed to have the set of bylaws. So I said what are we gonna call ourselves?
Marc Siegner: Gotta be an acronym! Gotta sound alright. I always had trouble with that, because we’re only about half way up the province, if that, so how could you say we are “northern Alberta”?
Robin Smith-Peck: I think partly because they were talking about it being a ‘southern’ thing, that there were ‘southern Alberta printmakers’ or something like that.
Walter Jule: I remember, people were saying ‘we don’t want to infringe on Calgary, so let’s call it something about northern Alberta.’ So slowly in the meeting it came out to be the Society of Northern Alberta Print Artists, and everybody started chanting ‘SNAPA, SNAPA.’ Then somebody said “great, but it sounds a little Italian”——I don’t know why that seemed Italian, maybe that’s from a cooking show or something… So somebody said why don’t we hyphenate it, so it’s the Society of Northern Alberta Print-artists. So that’s where SNAP comes from. Very logical, don’t you think?
Robin Smith-Peck: And nobody thought it would last more than a year anyway.
Marlene MacCallum: I’m going to guess that there were probably early discussions at the UofA, but the earliest memory that comes to mind for me is actually being in what was the original building, the Great West Saddlery Building, and a group of us there. Maybe that was early on after identifying that as a home for SNAP.
Walter Jule: We drove around town, we looked at the old post office on Whyte Avenue, that was Chianti’s Restaurant for years. With the little tower on it? That was empty then, but then somebody looked at the price, and that was not going to be good. We fished around, and then Robin and Marc really took over the process of getting a space.
Marc Siegner: Glenn Guillet stepped up with a few suggestions…
Robin Smith-Peck: And then the rest of it we sort of figured out on the fly. When we started we didn’t have any master-plan. It was like on the fly, how are we going to deal with this.
Catherine Burgess: We were really lucky in the 70s and into the 80s in Edmonton, there used to be all these empty warehouses downtown. They were full of us. [4]
Robin Smith-Peck: With the pooled funds and resources of the group, rent for a space in the city was secured. The lease arrangements were made and work on the necessary renovations began. The University of Alberta […] donated for a 1 year period: one roller, one set of felts, and one motorized etching press. Further private donations included a paper soaking sink, glass rolling palettes and counter tops. [5]
Marc Siegner: The reality of getting a space was kind of overwhelming. Because then, ok, here’s a space, now you have to build into it. Holy fuck! We need volunteers, we need people, we need walls. We need money for materials--there was no money for materials. So we recycled the stuff that was in there already.
Robin Smith-Peck: Because we were at the University, we also knew Phill Mann and Dick Der and Barb Gitzel and all these people who were looking for studio spaces. In return for their hard labour, that’s how that stuff got built.
Meaghan Baxter: The Society of Northern Alberta Print-artists (SNAP) was conceived over a lunch between Walter Jule, Robin Smith-Peck, Marc Siegner and several other local artists as a way to meet a need within the city's arts community. [1]
PRINT GROUP MEETING — May 26, 1982 — 12:00:
Present at meeting: Walter Jule, Liz Ingram, Robin Peck, Marc Siegner, Karen Dugas, Evelyn David, Barb Johnston, Rebecca Aronyk [2]
Robin Smith-Peck: Well we were just having lunch, and then after we finished Walter said go back and write it up, this was your first meeting.
Karen Curry: That is obviously the initiation of SNAP, because there’s this amazing printmaking program at the UofA, and then all these people graduate, and with nowhere to work, unless you somehow manage to stay associated with the printmaking department.
Barbara Johnston: We were just senior level students facing the loss of the equipment and facilities necessary to carry on printmaking (I remember the situation feeling like skiing down-hill into a brick wall!) and deciding to band together to create an open studio to be able to continue.
Meaghan Baxter: Smith-Peck and Siegner had been hired as printmaking techs at the University of Alberta and were seeing students graduate each year and ultimately having to leave or stop making prints because there was nowhere to work once they left school. [3]
Robin Smith-Peck: I recall that whole meeting as being more about pleading the cause, because somebody was going to have to do the work. I think Walter just felt that they had given it a couple of shots, and it had been met with some pushback because he’s so affiliated with the university, so everybody was thinking this is just more of that. So I think all we thought about, at that time, we knew we had steps we had to complete in order to make something happen.
Barbara Johnston: I seem to recall it was Walter who came up with the acronym “SNAP.”
Robin Smith-Peck: The whole SNAP name was simply so I could get the bylaws in by that Friday, because we were signing the lease on the place so we needed to have the set of bylaws. So I said what are we gonna call ourselves?
Marc Siegner: Gotta be an acronym! Gotta sound alright. I always had trouble with that, because we’re only about half way up the province, if that, so how could you say we are “northern Alberta”?
Robin Smith-Peck: I think partly because they were talking about it being a ‘southern’ thing, that there were ‘southern Alberta printmakers’ or something like that.
Walter Jule: I remember, people were saying ‘we don’t want to infringe on Calgary, so let’s call it something about northern Alberta.’ So slowly in the meeting it came out to be the Society of Northern Alberta Print Artists, and everybody started chanting ‘SNAPA, SNAPA.’ Then somebody said “great, but it sounds a little Italian”——I don’t know why that seemed Italian, maybe that’s from a cooking show or something… So somebody said why don’t we hyphenate it, so it’s the Society of Northern Alberta Print-artists. So that’s where SNAP comes from. Very logical, don’t you think?
Robin Smith-Peck: And nobody thought it would last more than a year anyway.
Marlene MacCallum: I’m going to guess that there were probably early discussions at the UofA, but the earliest memory that comes to mind for me is actually being in what was the original building, the Great West Saddlery Building, and a group of us there. Maybe that was early on after identifying that as a home for SNAP.
Walter Jule: We drove around town, we looked at the old post office on Whyte Avenue, that was Chianti’s Restaurant for years. With the little tower on it? That was empty then, but then somebody looked at the price, and that was not going to be good. We fished around, and then Robin and Marc really took over the process of getting a space.
Marc Siegner: Glenn Guillet stepped up with a few suggestions…
Robin Smith-Peck: And then the rest of it we sort of figured out on the fly. When we started we didn’t have any master-plan. It was like on the fly, how are we going to deal with this.
Catherine Burgess: We were really lucky in the 70s and into the 80s in Edmonton, there used to be all these empty warehouses downtown. They were full of us. [4]
Robin Smith-Peck: With the pooled funds and resources of the group, rent for a space in the city was secured. The lease arrangements were made and work on the necessary renovations began. The University of Alberta […] donated for a 1 year period: one roller, one set of felts, and one motorized etching press. Further private donations included a paper soaking sink, glass rolling palettes and counter tops. [5]
Marc Siegner: The reality of getting a space was kind of overwhelming. Because then, ok, here’s a space, now you have to build into it. Holy fuck! We need volunteers, we need people, we need walls. We need money for materials--there was no money for materials. So we recycled the stuff that was in there already.
Robin Smith-Peck: Because we were at the University, we also knew Phill Mann and Dick Der and Barb Gitzel and all these people who were looking for studio spaces. In return for their hard labour, that’s how that stuff got built.
Above: Images of SNAP’s original studio in the Great West Saddlery Building, c. 1985, 1. view of the 5th floor printshop; 2. Robin Smith-Peck inking a plate, SNAP printshop; 3. Marc Siegner printing a lithograph, SNAP printshop; 4. one of SNAP’s ‘chicken cage’ studios; 5. Phill Mann assembling a stretcher in his studio
Marna Bunnell: The first thing that comes to mind about that studio is cold…
Ilona Kennedy: The open studio was on the 5th very cold floor (no insulation!) and I remember wearing several layers of clothing and having cold fingers all the time!
Nick Dobson: The heat wasn’t great… I remember trying to print in the winter, you couldn’t get ink to go through your screen.
Karen Curry: It was all very minimal at the beginning. It was almost like chicken cages between the studios, just wire mesh.
Larisa Sembaliuk-Cheladyn: The way it was set up, it was like we were in little cages, that we could lock and work in. And then there was a room, I think it had two presses. And you’d see each other’s works there drying when you came in, but there were so few of us and it was really easy to schedule time, so we didn’t cross paths very often.
Richard Yates: The building had a great atmosphere of wood everywhere——flooring, shelves, post, beams.
Dee Freadrich: It was very simple and rustic… quite minimal in terms of facilities when it started. But everyone persisted and it slowly evolved. The Visual Arts Branch donated an unused print-drying rack and some large photographic trays. I distinctly remember the creaky old freight elevator. It was a bit dodgy at times. Also the strange building sounds when working late at night!
Marna Bunnell: The second thing that comes to mind is dark… third thing that comes to mind is that incredible staircase…
Helen Gerritzen: It was a very quiet place, and a seedy area. Very dark, I remember it being very dark up there on the 4th and 5th floor.
Tina Cho: To tell you the truth, I didn’t enjoy going there because the building was not occupied by a lot of people, and somehow when I would go to the shop I would feel so alone there. I was afraid to use the elevator to go up to the fifth floor, and so I would take the stairs. Some of the floors were squeaky and dark——as a single person, at that time I did not enjoy it.
April Dean: It was terrifying to be in that building late at night, with so many noises and creaking. I remember leaving and being terrified and making sure I had all my stuff and then just running down those five flights of stairs, no looking back. There was no way to know who else was in the building.
Mary Joyce: It was very large and very dark and very high up on the fifth floor there. We had a nice freight elevator at the back. And there were these closets; you could open a door and you could be in by the boilers or some kind of big piece of machinery, and there was space around there. And my husband of the time, Richard Yates, was also, besides making prints, he was very interested in hunting. And this is a hilarious story——at one point he actually tanned the hide of an antelope or two in the photography trays. And he hung them——you have to hang them for a while——and he used those closets in the back, which were dark. And at one point, somebody, maybe Robin, went in and saw these creatures hanging there! There was hell to pay! People were so pissed off. There was a staircase that went up to the roof. We could go out and sit on the roof. And we did, we had little picnics up there. It was nice.
Dee Freadrich: There was a restaurant which sold croissants across the alley, which emanated wonderful smells. Even though I wore a respiration mask to protect me from the chemicals, I could always smell the luscious croissants baking!
Marna Bunnell: The fourth thing that comes to mind is the whole culture of a loft kind-of thing; that this sort of abandoned warehouse——old, smelly——turned into this incredible place of a lot of creativity, and a lot of community.
Marc Siegner: We had a space where we made studios, and what was leftover was what SNAP got for the printshop, essentially. But all of those studios paid for that space.
Robin Smith-Peck: We wanted to support a healthy artist community—that meant poets and musicians and filmmakers and painters could rent those spaces, and we all benefited from being together. I just find it problematic when you take that model and make it so that only printmakers can rent the space—then you’re just insular, it’s not community anymore.
Elizabeth Beauchamp: Whether it’s printmakers working in three-dimensions or sculptors teaming up with dancers, some of the most exciting art, possibly as a reflection of our complex, multi-faceted global village, is often a hybrid formed by many influences.
Marna Bunnell: The first thing that comes to mind about that studio is cold…
Ilona Kennedy: The open studio was on the 5th very cold floor (no insulation!) and I remember wearing several layers of clothing and having cold fingers all the time!
Nick Dobson: The heat wasn’t great… I remember trying to print in the winter, you couldn’t get ink to go through your screen.
Karen Curry: It was all very minimal at the beginning. It was almost like chicken cages between the studios, just wire mesh.
Larisa Sembaliuk-Cheladyn: The way it was set up, it was like we were in little cages, that we could lock and work in. And then there was a room, I think it had two presses. And you’d see each other’s works there drying when you came in, but there were so few of us and it was really easy to schedule time, so we didn’t cross paths very often.
Richard Yates: The building had a great atmosphere of wood everywhere——flooring, shelves, post, beams.
Dee Freadrich: It was very simple and rustic… quite minimal in terms of facilities when it started. But everyone persisted and it slowly evolved. The Visual Arts Branch donated an unused print-drying rack and some large photographic trays. I distinctly remember the creaky old freight elevator. It was a bit dodgy at times. Also the strange building sounds when working late at night!
Marna Bunnell: The second thing that comes to mind is dark… third thing that comes to mind is that incredible staircase…
Helen Gerritzen: It was a very quiet place, and a seedy area. Very dark, I remember it being very dark up there on the 4th and 5th floor.
Tina Cho: To tell you the truth, I didn’t enjoy going there because the building was not occupied by a lot of people, and somehow when I would go to the shop I would feel so alone there. I was afraid to use the elevator to go up to the fifth floor, and so I would take the stairs. Some of the floors were squeaky and dark——as a single person, at that time I did not enjoy it.
April Dean: It was terrifying to be in that building late at night, with so many noises and creaking. I remember leaving and being terrified and making sure I had all my stuff and then just running down those five flights of stairs, no looking back. There was no way to know who else was in the building.
Mary Joyce: It was very large and very dark and very high up on the fifth floor there. We had a nice freight elevator at the back. And there were these closets; you could open a door and you could be in by the boilers or some kind of big piece of machinery, and there was space around there. And my husband of the time, Richard Yates, was also, besides making prints, he was very interested in hunting. And this is a hilarious story——at one point he actually tanned the hide of an antelope or two in the photography trays. And he hung them——you have to hang them for a while——and he used those closets in the back, which were dark. And at one point, somebody, maybe Robin, went in and saw these creatures hanging there! There was hell to pay! People were so pissed off. There was a staircase that went up to the roof. We could go out and sit on the roof. And we did, we had little picnics up there. It was nice.
Dee Freadrich: There was a restaurant which sold croissants across the alley, which emanated wonderful smells. Even though I wore a respiration mask to protect me from the chemicals, I could always smell the luscious croissants baking!
Marna Bunnell: The fourth thing that comes to mind is the whole culture of a loft kind-of thing; that this sort of abandoned warehouse——old, smelly——turned into this incredible place of a lot of creativity, and a lot of community.
Marc Siegner: We had a space where we made studios, and what was leftover was what SNAP got for the printshop, essentially. But all of those studios paid for that space.
Robin Smith-Peck: We wanted to support a healthy artist community—that meant poets and musicians and filmmakers and painters could rent those spaces, and we all benefited from being together. I just find it problematic when you take that model and make it so that only printmakers can rent the space—then you’re just insular, it’s not community anymore.
Elizabeth Beauchamp: Whether it’s printmakers working in three-dimensions or sculptors teaming up with dancers, some of the most exciting art, possibly as a reflection of our complex, multi-faceted global village, is often a hybrid formed by many influences.
Above: George Bures Miller and Janet Cardiff, S.N.A.P. Open Print Studio, screenprinted poster, 1983
Robin Smith-Peck: When Janet Cardiff graduated from her Masters and she needed work, [she and George Bures Miller] were the first people we hired at SNAP, and they ran the shop and printed the first posters that advertised the shop.
Sara Angel: The couple discovered they had a common love of art as diverse as seventeenth-century Dutch high realists and the Dadaists, as well as a passion for popular culture, particularly classic black-and-white and sci-fi films. [8]
Janet Cardiff: I like the idea of slowing the barrage of information that we are fed everyday to make it more digestible. Take a still from a film, or T.V., a photo from a newspaper, a photo from “reality.” When juxtaposed these things react upon each other to create intricate possibilities in their interpretation. In doing this I am giving new meaning to an already established story: re-writing its reality. [9]
Anthony Pavlic: Janet Cardiff had a studio there for a while. She was doing her masters when I was doing my undergrad, and I was actually making some kinetic sculpture, and she was kind enough to videotape for me when I didn’t really have a way of doing it myself.
Janet Cardiff: I think the subject matter and the process I go through are very close together and integral to one another. I believe that there isn't one answer for one image, so I do twenty versions of an image and consider one as valid as another. For the diptychs, I edit them down and reprint the whole series so that it's just the chosen two images that I'd use. But I like the concept that there's no truth, no one great masterpiece from a subject. There can be one situation and ten realities. I really like connecting with the other realities in the prints. I guess it's escapism: telling stories, but being able to use the subconscious to escape into and create another reality. It might be a reflection of my upbringing. When you're in a town with a population of nine hundred, living on a farm, your only connection to the outside world is through fiction and the media. Being out in a world I used to think was fiction but is now reality, I have to create new fictions. [10]
Robin Smith-Peck: We hired them, they printed the poster in the shop; George did the pulley system on the screen so that they could print this. In return for them working, we gave them a discount on their fourth floor studio, which Jan didn’t really need but George did, ‘cause George was still trying to be a painter. So they worked there that summer while they waited for a Canada Council grant to do their movie.
Robin Smith-Peck: When Janet Cardiff graduated from her Masters and she needed work, [she and George Bures Miller] were the first people we hired at SNAP, and they ran the shop and printed the first posters that advertised the shop.
Sara Angel: The couple discovered they had a common love of art as diverse as seventeenth-century Dutch high realists and the Dadaists, as well as a passion for popular culture, particularly classic black-and-white and sci-fi films. [8]
Janet Cardiff: I like the idea of slowing the barrage of information that we are fed everyday to make it more digestible. Take a still from a film, or T.V., a photo from a newspaper, a photo from “reality.” When juxtaposed these things react upon each other to create intricate possibilities in their interpretation. In doing this I am giving new meaning to an already established story: re-writing its reality. [9]
Anthony Pavlic: Janet Cardiff had a studio there for a while. She was doing her masters when I was doing my undergrad, and I was actually making some kinetic sculpture, and she was kind enough to videotape for me when I didn’t really have a way of doing it myself.
Janet Cardiff: I think the subject matter and the process I go through are very close together and integral to one another. I believe that there isn't one answer for one image, so I do twenty versions of an image and consider one as valid as another. For the diptychs, I edit them down and reprint the whole series so that it's just the chosen two images that I'd use. But I like the concept that there's no truth, no one great masterpiece from a subject. There can be one situation and ten realities. I really like connecting with the other realities in the prints. I guess it's escapism: telling stories, but being able to use the subconscious to escape into and create another reality. It might be a reflection of my upbringing. When you're in a town with a population of nine hundred, living on a farm, your only connection to the outside world is through fiction and the media. Being out in a world I used to think was fiction but is now reality, I have to create new fictions. [10]
Robin Smith-Peck: We hired them, they printed the poster in the shop; George did the pulley system on the screen so that they could print this. In return for them working, we gave them a discount on their fourth floor studio, which Jan didn’t really need but George did, ‘cause George was still trying to be a painter. So they worked there that summer while they waited for a Canada Council grant to do their movie.
Above: Images from the construction of SNAP’s fourth floor studios in 1986, all photos taken by Mary Joyce, 1. left to right: Lew Colborne, Susan Menzies, Tina Cho, Dana Rae Shukster, Richard Yates, Marc Siegner, Robin Smith-Peck, and Sandra Rechico celebrating after a day of work; 2. Marc Siegner and Robin Smith-Peck; 3. Peter Wachowhich making coffee during construction; 4. Sue Menzies and Robin Smith-Peck; 5. Dan Bagan; 6. Richard Yates
Marc Siegner: We weren't just printmakers, we were artists and we were all involved in doing other things that fed into the print culture.
Sydney Lancaster: It's interesting that you make that distinction; I think that's something that SNAP has fostered over the years: print is not a closed discipline, and there's always room for push & pull and incorporating print in other ways of working; incorporate other ways of working into print.
Marc Siegner: Well, I think to be truly viable [print] has to be open-ended, you have to allow for other influences to come in and to populate and feed and challenge and develop [a printmaking practice]; so it's informed by all these other things: film, literature, other art forms – dialogue – “let’s try this, let's fail at this, so that didn't work, but something did come out of that…” [11]
Mark Joslin: Marc Siegner has worked in a multitude of media, telling a variety of stories, presenting a number of postulations and drawing a number of conclusions over the years. Yet this exploration has not been meandering. It has been a purposeful journey—one that reflected his own development. How can we gain access or overview? How do we map the journey? I would suspect one should enter into Siegner's work the way that he does, by exploring through the vocabulary that is at the nexus of his practice. [12]
Liz Wylie: Through all these years Siegner was working as a printmaker, sending his work around the world to various international juried print exhibitions. Both his imagery and working methods have evolved and shifted over the years. Some of his earlier work was humorous and funky, somewhat in the vein of Chicago's Hairy Who, while other phases were more cerebral. Siegner produced mainly screen prints and lithographs, often working with layers of marks, shapes and images to form the overall work, a technique and approach that has carried through into his mixed- and multi-media works. [13]
Mark Joslin: Stepping back over the breadth of Siegner's production, we see an exhausting manipulation of vocabulary—often resulting in a radical syntax of dislocated time and narrative. In college in Toronto Siegner reports being amused and interested by the kind of surrealism that his studio-mates practiced. Siegner's own brand of surrealist practice began to be developed. He found humour and irony refreshing; but significantly his approach stemmed from a dissatisfaction with the status quo—a desire that went beyond shocking one out of bourgeois complacency—that bordered on political desire. [14]
Marc Siegner: It shifted after a few years, because of the UofA perhaps, and the focus on the international, the work opened up. There was a big shift between what I was doing which seemed to be aligned with what Latitude was going through—I’d call it, you know, ‘the art of the time.’ I was doing more painting and sculpture stuff before I got here than print, and I think because I was working in the printmaking division as a technician now I had to sort of address that. So I flipped between installation-y type stuff and the print stuff, and depending on the reviews I was getting or garnering from the people I knew I would flip between one and the other; if one was going well I wold stick with it for a while, and then I’d flip to the other if it wasn’t so much.
Angus Wyatt: Marc jokingly relates that it is a sense of Roman Catholic guilt which keeps him returning to printmaking, though he does concede that he thinks of it all the time and uses his other experiments as a form of release. […] His experimentation is indicative of his search for the self and, resultantly, a greater truth. [15]
Marc Siegner: So much of that is built on the experience of making art. Maybe that’s why they say when you make art you’re actually making the same piece over and over again.
Robin Smith-Peck: Totally.
Marc Siegner: You’re revisiting that idea, and you’re trying to express it, but you’re always in a different space and time.
Robin Smith-Peck: I find that I interpret and respond to these arrangements based on whatever I'm reading, listening to, thinking about, or watching. It's all discovery… then description… then blurring, then reiteration… then more discovery… more description. And then repeat to create and reinterpret something new. Therefore, when I 'make a statement' about a body of work or a series of images the best way I've found to fulfill this task is to simply list what I've been thinking about at the time that has helped guide and influence the works. [16]
Susan Menzies: Where did your interest in printmaking start? NSCAD?
Robin Smith-Peck: Yes, largely in response to a visual need to incorporate many different mark-making and image-making sensibilities on one surface. In printmaking I saw that one could use drawing, painting and photographic “marks” all in one process. I liked the way one could develop various components of the image and combine them much the same way as I imagined a recording or film studio to function, recording various tracks of the music or editing together the various strips of film. […] I believe that my BFA experience at NSCAD affected my response to my own work and that of others in that I developed a strong belief in the seriousness of the artist's role within and commitment to the society. It was never enough to simply “express” one’s self: as artists, we had a responsibility to attempt to understand our surroundings, to be aware of the implications of our collective actions.
Susan Menzies: Your work implies the importance of an action or activity: preparing a ground, burying or revealing an image, healing or shaping. How important is process to you, especially in that printmaking calls for action, assessment and reconsideration—a sort of reverse archaeology, building successive layers, or documenting a series of choices?
Robin Smith-Peck: Process, in the context of what I've just said, is of the utmost importance to me. Anyone can stand upright and gaze out on the land and see the components that exist to construct a scene. It is only by walking out on the land that you discover the components individually and their relationship to each other. It is then that you begin to truly have knowledge of the place, not just the scene. How's that for a metaphor? [17]
Patricia Grattan: [Smith-Peck’s] concern is not so much the subject as it is what she terms the ‘prolonged gaze;’ the process of sustained looking that encompasses not only the original object of interest but also the forms and colours around it, making meaning out of their relationships. She speaks of reaching a place of engaged reverie one of the delicious revelations is her use of high-tech means to highly unexpected visual ends. As a long-time printmaker, Peck is accustomed to reconciling mediated processes with expressive intentions. [18]
Robin Smith-Peck: I chose the word “marginal” to describe not only my state of existence, but also the state of the land around me. To feel marginal, in my mind, means feeling on the edge; somewhat odd because you do not exist within the mainstream of society. I have chosen to place myself in this situation because I have learned from experience that it is usually on the edge that true insight may prevail. The word “quotations” refers to the activity I feel I am performing when I choose to collage colour xeroxes of photographs I've taken rather than draw or paint them. One method involves interpretation, the other involves quoting the land itself. Through these acts of repeating the quotation and blurring the context I hope to present a different view of the land as it is played over in memory; colours and surfaces: patterns formed from living in the environment. Like that particular rock that you pass or bump into every day. At first it goes unnoticed and yet over time gradually it becomes a signpost orienting you to your surroundings or to a certain state of mind. Locked in your memory like a line from a poem. [19]
Anthony Pavlic: Robin and Marc were really encouraging and really infectious with their enthusiasm. And they had started SNAP and they would encourage the printmaking students to come down and check it out. I was definitely all over that, so I would go down to the Saddlery Building and check it out, and I became involved.
Mary Joyce: I got a phone call from the art supervisor in Edmonton Public Schools, who knew I was a printmaker. And he said you should go to this meeting downtown, at the Great Western Saddlery Building, and there was quite a good size group there.
Minutes from the General Meeting October 17, 1982:
It was noted that up to the time of this meeting there were doubts as to whether there would even be enough support financially or physically to continue the project. The question of a budget was appreciated and duly noted as one of the group’s major priorities. The question of an election of a Board of Officers was raised. […] At this point it was proposed by Mary Joyce that there appeared to be a core group operating at this time and perhaps it would be best that those with an expressed interest in being on the Board of Officers be designated and then a vote of confidence taken by the people present.
The Board of Officers voted in unanimously are:
Chairman: Pat Patching
Vice Chairman: Patricia Wilson
Treasurer: Marc Siegner
Secretary: Robin Peck
Assistant to Board: Dianne Addy
The following new active members are noted:
Mary Joyce, Sylvia Blashko, Jane Ash Poitras, Margo Lagasse, Lorri Shelenko, Sidi Schaffer, Lorraine New, Lily Yung, Vilma Mapp, Marna Bunnell [20]
Marc Siegner: We weren't just printmakers, we were artists and we were all involved in doing other things that fed into the print culture.
Sydney Lancaster: It's interesting that you make that distinction; I think that's something that SNAP has fostered over the years: print is not a closed discipline, and there's always room for push & pull and incorporating print in other ways of working; incorporate other ways of working into print.
Marc Siegner: Well, I think to be truly viable [print] has to be open-ended, you have to allow for other influences to come in and to populate and feed and challenge and develop [a printmaking practice]; so it's informed by all these other things: film, literature, other art forms – dialogue – “let’s try this, let's fail at this, so that didn't work, but something did come out of that…” [11]
Mark Joslin: Marc Siegner has worked in a multitude of media, telling a variety of stories, presenting a number of postulations and drawing a number of conclusions over the years. Yet this exploration has not been meandering. It has been a purposeful journey—one that reflected his own development. How can we gain access or overview? How do we map the journey? I would suspect one should enter into Siegner's work the way that he does, by exploring through the vocabulary that is at the nexus of his practice. [12]
Liz Wylie: Through all these years Siegner was working as a printmaker, sending his work around the world to various international juried print exhibitions. Both his imagery and working methods have evolved and shifted over the years. Some of his earlier work was humorous and funky, somewhat in the vein of Chicago's Hairy Who, while other phases were more cerebral. Siegner produced mainly screen prints and lithographs, often working with layers of marks, shapes and images to form the overall work, a technique and approach that has carried through into his mixed- and multi-media works. [13]
Mark Joslin: Stepping back over the breadth of Siegner's production, we see an exhausting manipulation of vocabulary—often resulting in a radical syntax of dislocated time and narrative. In college in Toronto Siegner reports being amused and interested by the kind of surrealism that his studio-mates practiced. Siegner's own brand of surrealist practice began to be developed. He found humour and irony refreshing; but significantly his approach stemmed from a dissatisfaction with the status quo—a desire that went beyond shocking one out of bourgeois complacency—that bordered on political desire. [14]
Marc Siegner: It shifted after a few years, because of the UofA perhaps, and the focus on the international, the work opened up. There was a big shift between what I was doing which seemed to be aligned with what Latitude was going through—I’d call it, you know, ‘the art of the time.’ I was doing more painting and sculpture stuff before I got here than print, and I think because I was working in the printmaking division as a technician now I had to sort of address that. So I flipped between installation-y type stuff and the print stuff, and depending on the reviews I was getting or garnering from the people I knew I would flip between one and the other; if one was going well I wold stick with it for a while, and then I’d flip to the other if it wasn’t so much.
Angus Wyatt: Marc jokingly relates that it is a sense of Roman Catholic guilt which keeps him returning to printmaking, though he does concede that he thinks of it all the time and uses his other experiments as a form of release. […] His experimentation is indicative of his search for the self and, resultantly, a greater truth. [15]
Marc Siegner: So much of that is built on the experience of making art. Maybe that’s why they say when you make art you’re actually making the same piece over and over again.
Robin Smith-Peck: Totally.
Marc Siegner: You’re revisiting that idea, and you’re trying to express it, but you’re always in a different space and time.
Robin Smith-Peck: I find that I interpret and respond to these arrangements based on whatever I'm reading, listening to, thinking about, or watching. It's all discovery… then description… then blurring, then reiteration… then more discovery… more description. And then repeat to create and reinterpret something new. Therefore, when I 'make a statement' about a body of work or a series of images the best way I've found to fulfill this task is to simply list what I've been thinking about at the time that has helped guide and influence the works. [16]
Susan Menzies: Where did your interest in printmaking start? NSCAD?
Robin Smith-Peck: Yes, largely in response to a visual need to incorporate many different mark-making and image-making sensibilities on one surface. In printmaking I saw that one could use drawing, painting and photographic “marks” all in one process. I liked the way one could develop various components of the image and combine them much the same way as I imagined a recording or film studio to function, recording various tracks of the music or editing together the various strips of film. […] I believe that my BFA experience at NSCAD affected my response to my own work and that of others in that I developed a strong belief in the seriousness of the artist's role within and commitment to the society. It was never enough to simply “express” one’s self: as artists, we had a responsibility to attempt to understand our surroundings, to be aware of the implications of our collective actions.
Susan Menzies: Your work implies the importance of an action or activity: preparing a ground, burying or revealing an image, healing or shaping. How important is process to you, especially in that printmaking calls for action, assessment and reconsideration—a sort of reverse archaeology, building successive layers, or documenting a series of choices?
Robin Smith-Peck: Process, in the context of what I've just said, is of the utmost importance to me. Anyone can stand upright and gaze out on the land and see the components that exist to construct a scene. It is only by walking out on the land that you discover the components individually and their relationship to each other. It is then that you begin to truly have knowledge of the place, not just the scene. How's that for a metaphor? [17]
Patricia Grattan: [Smith-Peck’s] concern is not so much the subject as it is what she terms the ‘prolonged gaze;’ the process of sustained looking that encompasses not only the original object of interest but also the forms and colours around it, making meaning out of their relationships. She speaks of reaching a place of engaged reverie one of the delicious revelations is her use of high-tech means to highly unexpected visual ends. As a long-time printmaker, Peck is accustomed to reconciling mediated processes with expressive intentions. [18]
Robin Smith-Peck: I chose the word “marginal” to describe not only my state of existence, but also the state of the land around me. To feel marginal, in my mind, means feeling on the edge; somewhat odd because you do not exist within the mainstream of society. I have chosen to place myself in this situation because I have learned from experience that it is usually on the edge that true insight may prevail. The word “quotations” refers to the activity I feel I am performing when I choose to collage colour xeroxes of photographs I've taken rather than draw or paint them. One method involves interpretation, the other involves quoting the land itself. Through these acts of repeating the quotation and blurring the context I hope to present a different view of the land as it is played over in memory; colours and surfaces: patterns formed from living in the environment. Like that particular rock that you pass or bump into every day. At first it goes unnoticed and yet over time gradually it becomes a signpost orienting you to your surroundings or to a certain state of mind. Locked in your memory like a line from a poem. [19]
Anthony Pavlic: Robin and Marc were really encouraging and really infectious with their enthusiasm. And they had started SNAP and they would encourage the printmaking students to come down and check it out. I was definitely all over that, so I would go down to the Saddlery Building and check it out, and I became involved.
Mary Joyce: I got a phone call from the art supervisor in Edmonton Public Schools, who knew I was a printmaker. And he said you should go to this meeting downtown, at the Great Western Saddlery Building, and there was quite a good size group there.
Minutes from the General Meeting October 17, 1982:
It was noted that up to the time of this meeting there were doubts as to whether there would even be enough support financially or physically to continue the project. The question of a budget was appreciated and duly noted as one of the group’s major priorities. The question of an election of a Board of Officers was raised. […] At this point it was proposed by Mary Joyce that there appeared to be a core group operating at this time and perhaps it would be best that those with an expressed interest in being on the Board of Officers be designated and then a vote of confidence taken by the people present.
The Board of Officers voted in unanimously are:
Chairman: Pat Patching
Vice Chairman: Patricia Wilson
Treasurer: Marc Siegner
Secretary: Robin Peck
Assistant to Board: Dianne Addy
The following new active members are noted:
Mary Joyce, Sylvia Blashko, Jane Ash Poitras, Margo Lagasse, Lorri Shelenko, Sidi Schaffer, Lorraine New, Lily Yung, Vilma Mapp, Marna Bunnell [20]
Above: Images of SNAP’s first exhibition, curated by Karen Curry at Latitude 53, 1. Installation view of SNAP, exhibition at Latitude 53, March 1983, work from left to right in gallery by Lorraine New, Dianne Addy, Marc Siegner, and Pat Patching; photograph by Karen Curry; 2. Installation view, work from left to right in gallery by Lorri Shelenko, Sylvia Blashko; photograph by Karen Curry; 3. unknown, possibly Lorraine New, S.N.A.P., offset litho poster, 1983; 4. Pat Patching, Surface Impression, lithograph, frottage, chine-collé, 1982; 5. Karen Curry, Fan Dance Series VII, collagraph, 1983; 6. Lily Yung, Charade, lithography, screenprint, 1983; 7. Lorri Shelenko, Are these trout?, lithograph, 1982; 8. Sidi Schaffer, Pre-man, collagraph, c. 1982; 9. Lorraine New, Plaster Box #1; The Object of Deception, lithography, screenprint, 1982; 10. Sylvia Blashko, collagraph, 1982
Trudie Heiman: After many years of discussion and meetings, Edmonton finally saw its first printmaking studio open. Printmakers from Edmonton have been consistently winning national and international awards for their printmaking achievements, however, they had no open studios as had other cultural centres in Canada. In a gesture of support Latitude 53 agreed to organize a print show by S.N.A.P. members (curated by printmaker Karen Curry) to help launch its first year. [21]
Karen Curry: It was invitational to the people that were currently active, and then I did visits and selected the work from each artist. Pretty straight forward at the time…
Robin Smith-Peck: I don’t remember who made the poster for that show… Do you know, was Lorraine New in this? I’m trying to think of who was using rocks, and marks like that. And I remember Lorraine was using a lot of those floating objects. It’s a very ‘Walter’ thing, a very ‘Walter’ move. So it could be influenced by Walter, but my guess is that’s a Lorraine New thing.
Lorraine New: I am concerned with developing these fossil-like images as elements of the tangible physical world which, by their isolation from the real world, become mysterious and obscure in their meaning. These images are the evidence of interaction, a means of preserving the activity of their creation and in this way serve as a record of the passage of time… before, during, after. The ability to capture the dramatic quality of lighting and the opportunity to manipulate colour is afforded to me through the use of photographic illusion. My primary concern in the presentation of these images is the intensification of their psychological impact on the viewer. [22]
Mary Joyce: Wonder what happened to her though? Have you found her? Get married and change her name? It happens. I’m so glad women have stopped doing that. It’s ridiculous.
Melinda Pinfold: Montreal born artist Mary Joyce describes herself as a ferociously independent, creative, curious, political person. She is a vocal political agitator/disruptor and a longstanding member of the Marxist-Leninist Party of Canada, whose overarching philosophy aims for the eventuality of a truly classless society. [23]
Mary Joyce: I was in the second school I got transferred to, Baldwin Junior High, and I had a friend, we used to go walking at lunch time. Nice old guy, the vice principal. He said to me ‘Well Mary, I know you’re an artist, but can you create a panoramic landscape?’ So I considered that a challenge. I had always lived on the south side by the university, but then I had moved them to these townhouses way out in Beverly—the east end by 17th Street, which is where all the refineries are. The refineries and the big industrial plants and everything. I thought ok, I’ll make a comment on the panoramic landscape where I lived. And so that’s what this series [Panoramic Landscape] is. They were supposed to show that as you get closer, this is what you see. And that’s what it’s about; it’s ironic, of course. It’s saying well if you’re in the working class, this is what you get to look at for your surroundings. That’s Edmonton man. That’s Edmonton.
Trudie Heiman: After many years of discussion and meetings, Edmonton finally saw its first printmaking studio open. Printmakers from Edmonton have been consistently winning national and international awards for their printmaking achievements, however, they had no open studios as had other cultural centres in Canada. In a gesture of support Latitude 53 agreed to organize a print show by S.N.A.P. members (curated by printmaker Karen Curry) to help launch its first year. [21]
Karen Curry: It was invitational to the people that were currently active, and then I did visits and selected the work from each artist. Pretty straight forward at the time…
Robin Smith-Peck: I don’t remember who made the poster for that show… Do you know, was Lorraine New in this? I’m trying to think of who was using rocks, and marks like that. And I remember Lorraine was using a lot of those floating objects. It’s a very ‘Walter’ thing, a very ‘Walter’ move. So it could be influenced by Walter, but my guess is that’s a Lorraine New thing.
Lorraine New: I am concerned with developing these fossil-like images as elements of the tangible physical world which, by their isolation from the real world, become mysterious and obscure in their meaning. These images are the evidence of interaction, a means of preserving the activity of their creation and in this way serve as a record of the passage of time… before, during, after. The ability to capture the dramatic quality of lighting and the opportunity to manipulate colour is afforded to me through the use of photographic illusion. My primary concern in the presentation of these images is the intensification of their psychological impact on the viewer. [22]
Mary Joyce: Wonder what happened to her though? Have you found her? Get married and change her name? It happens. I’m so glad women have stopped doing that. It’s ridiculous.
Melinda Pinfold: Montreal born artist Mary Joyce describes herself as a ferociously independent, creative, curious, political person. She is a vocal political agitator/disruptor and a longstanding member of the Marxist-Leninist Party of Canada, whose overarching philosophy aims for the eventuality of a truly classless society. [23]
Mary Joyce: I was in the second school I got transferred to, Baldwin Junior High, and I had a friend, we used to go walking at lunch time. Nice old guy, the vice principal. He said to me ‘Well Mary, I know you’re an artist, but can you create a panoramic landscape?’ So I considered that a challenge. I had always lived on the south side by the university, but then I had moved them to these townhouses way out in Beverly—the east end by 17th Street, which is where all the refineries are. The refineries and the big industrial plants and everything. I thought ok, I’ll make a comment on the panoramic landscape where I lived. And so that’s what this series [Panoramic Landscape] is. They were supposed to show that as you get closer, this is what you see. And that’s what it’s about; it’s ironic, of course. It’s saying well if you’re in the working class, this is what you get to look at for your surroundings. That’s Edmonton man. That’s Edmonton.
Above: Mary Joyce, Panoramic Landscape I, Beverly, drypoint, 1986
Melinda Pinfold: It remains Joyce's moral and ethical position that artists must take a stance on social issues. [24]
Mary Joyce: I call on the voters of my riding to throw off any illusions they may have that one individual or another, one program or another, can salvage the capitalist system. I say to them that to vote for the parties of the rich is an utter waste, because nothing good will come of it. These parties support imperialism, social-imperialism and reaction; they have war preparations, fascisization of the state, denial of the right to free union for Quebec, and genocide for the native people on their agendas. [25]
Cherie Moses: I do think that, as with literature or theatre, people do sometimes see something that changes perception, that makes them think, and then change occurs. It is not mega-change or the end of nuclear arms or anything like that. But it is change in perception, and I really believe that changing people’s perceptions is the beginning of all kinds of change. Once people start understanding the power structures, then I think they begin to make their own choices. [26]
Mary Joyce: I was completely alone [in regards to her politics at SNAP]. I was the only one. It was kind of sad, but I couldn’t do anything else. And I think people, it’s hard to say… I just carried on. When I was a student at the UofA, I was told, at least once, “You must not be political in your art,” by professors. And Walter was not one of them. I just love him for that. He let me do what what I needed to do. But other people didn’t. And I remember who they were! And I’m not saying! You know, maybe, to give credit, they were worried about what might happen to me, and things did. (Got me in trouble too! The RCMP thought it was very serious!) However, you don’t have any choice. You keep going. And then you are vindicated in the end, because people fight for justice, they always do, and after 20 years, 30, 40, 50 years, you see oh yeah, this is sort of positive, this is what we might hope for.
Melinda Pinfold: It remains Joyce's moral and ethical position that artists must take a stance on social issues. [24]
Mary Joyce: I call on the voters of my riding to throw off any illusions they may have that one individual or another, one program or another, can salvage the capitalist system. I say to them that to vote for the parties of the rich is an utter waste, because nothing good will come of it. These parties support imperialism, social-imperialism and reaction; they have war preparations, fascisization of the state, denial of the right to free union for Quebec, and genocide for the native people on their agendas. [25]
Cherie Moses: I do think that, as with literature or theatre, people do sometimes see something that changes perception, that makes them think, and then change occurs. It is not mega-change or the end of nuclear arms or anything like that. But it is change in perception, and I really believe that changing people’s perceptions is the beginning of all kinds of change. Once people start understanding the power structures, then I think they begin to make their own choices. [26]
Mary Joyce: I was completely alone [in regards to her politics at SNAP]. I was the only one. It was kind of sad, but I couldn’t do anything else. And I think people, it’s hard to say… I just carried on. When I was a student at the UofA, I was told, at least once, “You must not be political in your art,” by professors. And Walter was not one of them. I just love him for that. He let me do what what I needed to do. But other people didn’t. And I remember who they were! And I’m not saying! You know, maybe, to give credit, they were worried about what might happen to me, and things did. (Got me in trouble too! The RCMP thought it was very serious!) However, you don’t have any choice. You keep going. And then you are vindicated in the end, because people fight for justice, they always do, and after 20 years, 30, 40, 50 years, you see oh yeah, this is sort of positive, this is what we might hope for.
Above: Darci Mallon, A Gentle Caress, linocut, 1986
Darci Mallon: I had taken printmaking as one of the courses at ACAD when I was a student there, but drawing and painting were my major mediums at that time, late ‘70s. I returned to Edmonton, and I had been in a few Canadian drawing exhibitions, so my work had been seen by Lyndal and Walter, and they had gotten ahold of me when I moved here. At that time they were looking for somebody, because an instructor teaching printmaking, Bonnie Sheckter, was leaving for Toronto and they needed someone quite quickly. And so I came in and I got a sessional position. Because I didn’t know enough about printmaking, there were technicians who could address the technical aspects and I could address the aesthetics and the research. The linocuts really resonated with me; I like the high-key contrast that I got when I started playing with it myself. And I’ve often found when I’m teaching something, and I think many of us are like this, we start to get very interested in other aspects about it, and sort of drill down. So that’s what happened to me. I started teaching it and really got into it through teaching it.
Pat [DiMarcello] Prodaniuk: Darci was a terrific teacher. She made you work, and so did Cherie. Brilliant assignments—one page, and we’d walk around for a whole day just trying to figure it out.
Erna Dominey: It is the SNAP newsletter's custom to include an interview with the artist whose work is featured in each issue. What is not customary is that [October 1989’s featured artist], Darci Mallon, is both subject and interlocutor. This unusual state of affairs did not arise from a fearful shortage of labour here at SNAP, nor was Darci too formidable a subject for sensitive souls to interview. At this stage in her career, she is the best person placed to ask the most searching questions, however more difficult it may be for her to answer them.
darci mallon: To begin with, could you talk a bit about what your concerns are with regard to your work?
Darci Mallon: Sure. I'm basically concerned with trying to understand it. Would you by chance?
darci mallon: Me? uh, no. Let me clarify that question. Where do your ideas come from? What is informing your work? Are there references? Are you attempting to convey anything in particular, like your philosophies, beliefs, life's experiences etc? [27]
‘Barry Kleber’: Mallon […], wants to tell us something about the world, about herself, about personal relationships, something. [28]
Darci Mallon: Well, for the longest time I suspected my work was an exploration of some sort. I wasn't entirely sure, because I was so caught up in the practice of making it. For several years I thought it was about how people established their identities. I've always been fascinated by the antics of people, particularly manipulators. I love witnessing deception and confusion. I'm afraid of both. A few years ago I started reading popular science books. I noticed incredible parallels between the behaviour of people and sub-atomic particles. What I began to realize was that it wasn't the individuals that I was drawing from to inform my work, it was the relationship between the people. [29]
Kitty Scott: Mallon is also dealing with the body, alluding to it as a site of loss, as a disappearing identity that is losing touch, and perhaps close to death. However, more importantly, Mallon uses the same signifiers to discuss the body’s role in communication and the production of meaning. Whereas much of the debate surrounding ‘the body’ excludes a discussion of it in connection to the mind, Mallon's heavily coded drawings emphasize the mind and the body equally, and their interrelationship. [30]
’Barry Kleber’: At the FAB Gallerv, where Part I of the Staff Show show was on exhibit, Darci Schuler-Mallon’s Tendencies to Exist was in State II and being attacked by a pile of sand. Sand is symbolic of time and only time will tell what Darci is trying to say. [31]
Darci Mallon: I also admit I sometimes feel lost. But have you ever noticed how fast your heart beats when you're lost? [32]
’Barry Kleber’: Keep talking Darci, we’ll figure it out sooner or later. [33]
Darci Mallon: I had taken printmaking as one of the courses at ACAD when I was a student there, but drawing and painting were my major mediums at that time, late ‘70s. I returned to Edmonton, and I had been in a few Canadian drawing exhibitions, so my work had been seen by Lyndal and Walter, and they had gotten ahold of me when I moved here. At that time they were looking for somebody, because an instructor teaching printmaking, Bonnie Sheckter, was leaving for Toronto and they needed someone quite quickly. And so I came in and I got a sessional position. Because I didn’t know enough about printmaking, there were technicians who could address the technical aspects and I could address the aesthetics and the research. The linocuts really resonated with me; I like the high-key contrast that I got when I started playing with it myself. And I’ve often found when I’m teaching something, and I think many of us are like this, we start to get very interested in other aspects about it, and sort of drill down. So that’s what happened to me. I started teaching it and really got into it through teaching it.
Pat [DiMarcello] Prodaniuk: Darci was a terrific teacher. She made you work, and so did Cherie. Brilliant assignments—one page, and we’d walk around for a whole day just trying to figure it out.
Erna Dominey: It is the SNAP newsletter's custom to include an interview with the artist whose work is featured in each issue. What is not customary is that [October 1989’s featured artist], Darci Mallon, is both subject and interlocutor. This unusual state of affairs did not arise from a fearful shortage of labour here at SNAP, nor was Darci too formidable a subject for sensitive souls to interview. At this stage in her career, she is the best person placed to ask the most searching questions, however more difficult it may be for her to answer them.
darci mallon: To begin with, could you talk a bit about what your concerns are with regard to your work?
Darci Mallon: Sure. I'm basically concerned with trying to understand it. Would you by chance?
darci mallon: Me? uh, no. Let me clarify that question. Where do your ideas come from? What is informing your work? Are there references? Are you attempting to convey anything in particular, like your philosophies, beliefs, life's experiences etc? [27]
‘Barry Kleber’: Mallon […], wants to tell us something about the world, about herself, about personal relationships, something. [28]
Darci Mallon: Well, for the longest time I suspected my work was an exploration of some sort. I wasn't entirely sure, because I was so caught up in the practice of making it. For several years I thought it was about how people established their identities. I've always been fascinated by the antics of people, particularly manipulators. I love witnessing deception and confusion. I'm afraid of both. A few years ago I started reading popular science books. I noticed incredible parallels between the behaviour of people and sub-atomic particles. What I began to realize was that it wasn't the individuals that I was drawing from to inform my work, it was the relationship between the people. [29]
Kitty Scott: Mallon is also dealing with the body, alluding to it as a site of loss, as a disappearing identity that is losing touch, and perhaps close to death. However, more importantly, Mallon uses the same signifiers to discuss the body’s role in communication and the production of meaning. Whereas much of the debate surrounding ‘the body’ excludes a discussion of it in connection to the mind, Mallon's heavily coded drawings emphasize the mind and the body equally, and their interrelationship. [30]
’Barry Kleber’: At the FAB Gallerv, where Part I of the Staff Show show was on exhibit, Darci Schuler-Mallon’s Tendencies to Exist was in State II and being attacked by a pile of sand. Sand is symbolic of time and only time will tell what Darci is trying to say. [31]
Darci Mallon: I also admit I sometimes feel lost. But have you ever noticed how fast your heart beats when you're lost? [32]
’Barry Kleber’: Keep talking Darci, we’ll figure it out sooner or later. [33]
Above: Richard Yates, Fertile Grounding, drypoint, 1983
Mary-Beth Laviolette: Along with Mallon, [Richard Yates], is one of the few artists out of Edmonton to have worked extensively in what is the oldest method of making a print: the […] relief method. [34]
Helen Collinson: Richard Yates, MVA, is an artist who has exhibited fairly frequently in Edmonton since he graduated from the University of Alberta in 1983. Prior to that time he had studied in many parts of the world and, afterwards, did post-graduate study in printmaking in Sweden. He has been extremely active artistically and recently exhibited both at Latitude 53 and the Front Gallery in Edmonton. [35]
Richard Yates: Some images that I did at SNAP were extensions of work with 4x8 ft. masonite sheets cut with chisels done at the UofA. Black and white relief prints. Big! The AFA bought one. Was hanging in a concert hall in the city. And some big linocuts. A few lacquered masonite plates cut with small gouges and printed intaglio like an etching. Beautiful to cut. Like butter, but lethal to breathe. Lacquer off gases! Ug. But then eventually, I bought an old farm house northeast of Edmonton in a speck of a hamlet called Wostok.
Charlene Olsen-Popyk: I asked Mr. Yates about the oblique angles he creates in his prints, sometimes placing the viewer high above the surface of his works. Mr. Yates thought that this may have roots as far back as his graduate studies and to a recurring nightmare about falling. He tried to counter this nightmare by suggestion and was successful. In a following dream, instead of falling over the edge of a bridge, he hung on and found himself looking down at everything below. This, he suggests, led to the sensation of flying found in some of his work. [36]
Richard Yates: Kept a small plane at Wostok and incorporated landing alignments into some of these images. I seem to use overhead views often as I was drawn to visiting crop circles, medicine wheels (visited the one across the river from Bassano, the Majorville site). And UFO's. Abducted as a little kid in Victoria off Oak Bay actually. Sticks in your memory as an above ground episode that bleeds into my art. Oh, the unexplained! Could go on……
Mary-Beth Laviolette: Along with Mallon, [Richard Yates], is one of the few artists out of Edmonton to have worked extensively in what is the oldest method of making a print: the […] relief method. [34]
Helen Collinson: Richard Yates, MVA, is an artist who has exhibited fairly frequently in Edmonton since he graduated from the University of Alberta in 1983. Prior to that time he had studied in many parts of the world and, afterwards, did post-graduate study in printmaking in Sweden. He has been extremely active artistically and recently exhibited both at Latitude 53 and the Front Gallery in Edmonton. [35]
Richard Yates: Some images that I did at SNAP were extensions of work with 4x8 ft. masonite sheets cut with chisels done at the UofA. Black and white relief prints. Big! The AFA bought one. Was hanging in a concert hall in the city. And some big linocuts. A few lacquered masonite plates cut with small gouges and printed intaglio like an etching. Beautiful to cut. Like butter, but lethal to breathe. Lacquer off gases! Ug. But then eventually, I bought an old farm house northeast of Edmonton in a speck of a hamlet called Wostok.
Charlene Olsen-Popyk: I asked Mr. Yates about the oblique angles he creates in his prints, sometimes placing the viewer high above the surface of his works. Mr. Yates thought that this may have roots as far back as his graduate studies and to a recurring nightmare about falling. He tried to counter this nightmare by suggestion and was successful. In a following dream, instead of falling over the edge of a bridge, he hung on and found himself looking down at everything below. This, he suggests, led to the sensation of flying found in some of his work. [36]
Richard Yates: Kept a small plane at Wostok and incorporated landing alignments into some of these images. I seem to use overhead views often as I was drawn to visiting crop circles, medicine wheels (visited the one across the river from Bassano, the Majorville site). And UFO's. Abducted as a little kid in Victoria off Oak Bay actually. Sticks in your memory as an above ground episode that bleeds into my art. Oh, the unexplained! Could go on……
Above: Doris ‘Dee’ Freadrich, Song of Sand, etching, 1987
Dee Freadrich: Dave Crockett, a UofA drawing instructor, told me early in my studies that “I thought like a printmaker.” At the time, I didn’t really know what a “printmaker” was. I went on to finish my BEd in Art Education. But instead of becoming an art teacher in the public schools, I enrolled in the BFA program and focused on Sculpture and Visual Communications.
Bente Roed: Influenced by previous studies in sculpture, [Doris ‘Dee’ Freadrich] enriches print surfaces by layering photographic images and drawing over them; by collaging objects on the plates; by layering the plates to create sculptural relief or embossing; and finally, by gluing on wood or metal strips. Silver is used for additional surface embellishment.
Dee Freadrich: I want to distill, like digging or excavating. That can be excavating like an archaeologist with precision or excavating like with a backhoe where you really tear things up. I'm brutal with the plates, but at times I have to be very sensitive. It's a tightrope walk, because the brutal work can destroy it all. But I have to be aggressive to keep the statement physical and strong. What you get is a dialogue between the delicate pristine and the brutal, aggressive invading mark.
Brian Noble: One might read some sexual interplay in this…
Dee Freadrich: It could be, though that is not my intention. One Glenbow curator said my work looked “orgasmic.” Another critic called it “deliciously frightening” and “sublime.” […] I'm physical with the plate and the paper has to respond to the surface relief. My prints are sculptural even from the back. That effect is created by piercing and cutting through the plate and laying down objects or building up the surface. So you get subtlety and aggressiveness. [38]
Luke Johnson: Speaking of aggressive surfaces, I’ve heard rumours you used a shotgun on your plates at one point?
Dee Freadrich: Ha! Yes the rumour about a gun being used as a tool in plate making is true. But it wasn’t a shotgun, it was likely a hand gun. At the time I was helping the Edmonton Police Department design and create a small museum in the downtown headquarters. One of the officers mentioned that he was going to “target practice” the next day. A light bulb went off in my head… pun intended. I asked if he would mind taking one of my copper plates and shoot at it a couple of times. A few days later I received my plate back. Happily, the copper stretched into interesting volcano like shapes when bullets passed through the copper. I photographed the plate extensively while manipulating lighting effects. I then flattened the plate out and used it as elements in new imagery. I also began to use an acetylene torch to blow through the copper to create different effects. […] The images are not preconceived but achieved through an involved dialogue between the images, the endless possibilities and intuition. The process is one of constant ordering and disordering. In determining what must be revealed and what must be obscured, the imagery is repeatedly transformed, destroyed and reconstructed. A balance of physical and psychological tensions and rhythms is the ultimate goal.
Marc Siegner: Of course I think it was the dynamic of these people that made it worthwhile, coming to and being involved in, right? I mean, we had a lot of fun together. There was lots of drinking, and partying, but also that was the result of a lot of hard, hard, work. The Saddlery Shows were a way to sort of express the work that was being done in the building. It was entirely vacant when we moved in, and so the landlord let us use the main floor for our shows.
Dee Freadrich: Dave Crockett, a UofA drawing instructor, told me early in my studies that “I thought like a printmaker.” At the time, I didn’t really know what a “printmaker” was. I went on to finish my BEd in Art Education. But instead of becoming an art teacher in the public schools, I enrolled in the BFA program and focused on Sculpture and Visual Communications.
Bente Roed: Influenced by previous studies in sculpture, [Doris ‘Dee’ Freadrich] enriches print surfaces by layering photographic images and drawing over them; by collaging objects on the plates; by layering the plates to create sculptural relief or embossing; and finally, by gluing on wood or metal strips. Silver is used for additional surface embellishment.
Dee Freadrich: I want to distill, like digging or excavating. That can be excavating like an archaeologist with precision or excavating like with a backhoe where you really tear things up. I'm brutal with the plates, but at times I have to be very sensitive. It's a tightrope walk, because the brutal work can destroy it all. But I have to be aggressive to keep the statement physical and strong. What you get is a dialogue between the delicate pristine and the brutal, aggressive invading mark.
Brian Noble: One might read some sexual interplay in this…
Dee Freadrich: It could be, though that is not my intention. One Glenbow curator said my work looked “orgasmic.” Another critic called it “deliciously frightening” and “sublime.” […] I'm physical with the plate and the paper has to respond to the surface relief. My prints are sculptural even from the back. That effect is created by piercing and cutting through the plate and laying down objects or building up the surface. So you get subtlety and aggressiveness. [38]
Luke Johnson: Speaking of aggressive surfaces, I’ve heard rumours you used a shotgun on your plates at one point?
Dee Freadrich: Ha! Yes the rumour about a gun being used as a tool in plate making is true. But it wasn’t a shotgun, it was likely a hand gun. At the time I was helping the Edmonton Police Department design and create a small museum in the downtown headquarters. One of the officers mentioned that he was going to “target practice” the next day. A light bulb went off in my head… pun intended. I asked if he would mind taking one of my copper plates and shoot at it a couple of times. A few days later I received my plate back. Happily, the copper stretched into interesting volcano like shapes when bullets passed through the copper. I photographed the plate extensively while manipulating lighting effects. I then flattened the plate out and used it as elements in new imagery. I also began to use an acetylene torch to blow through the copper to create different effects. […] The images are not preconceived but achieved through an involved dialogue between the images, the endless possibilities and intuition. The process is one of constant ordering and disordering. In determining what must be revealed and what must be obscured, the imagery is repeatedly transformed, destroyed and reconstructed. A balance of physical and psychological tensions and rhythms is the ultimate goal.
Marc Siegner: Of course I think it was the dynamic of these people that made it worthwhile, coming to and being involved in, right? I mean, we had a lot of fun together. There was lots of drinking, and partying, but also that was the result of a lot of hard, hard, work. The Saddlery Shows were a way to sort of express the work that was being done in the building. It was entirely vacant when we moved in, and so the landlord let us use the main floor for our shows.
Above: Susan Menzies, Teach Yourself Latin, part 1, site-specific installation including paintings, furniture, sculptural constructions, and tape recording, 1985
Phyllis Matousek: The artists are unaccustomed to having such an extensive area in which to display their work. Susan Menzies took advantage of the space to create a large installation and finished it off win two of her paintings, as well as a tape recording. [39]
Helen Collinson: She is an artist of real versatility who has talent in several areas. For this exhibition she has fabricated a personal space in the form of a room containing mysterious symbols and icons at once imbued with religiosity and parody. A painting covering the end wall of the room extends to the ceiling, where angels/devils abound. A chair is provided for the required contemplation. [40]
Liz Wylie: Much of the meaning of her work appears to lie in the interstices involved in her practice—that is, in what she does not overtly tell us, does not portray. By means of her media(the choice of wood as a support, for instance, a substance that was once alive, and also has a long tradition in the history of Western art), her imagery (which is often personal, arcane, vaguely suggestive, not always decisively clear), and the emotional content in her art (one senses a variety of feelings, ranging from vulnerability to love, from passion and desire to loss), Menzies creates work that is at once moving and intellectually engaging. [41]
Susan Menzies: What turn out to be good lessons are the ways in which people misinterpret my work, or the way in which they can see past those red herrings I put in, sometimes without even realizing they are there. I’d just like to get to the point where there’s less room for misunderstanding and I’m in a position to say to people, with art or whatever, these things are wrong while others are right or funny or important. [42]
Clint Buehler: Menzies’ work is about communication, much of it autobiographical. She doesn’t claim to have any secrets in the creation of her art, “just little bits of magic you can make occasionally… that enable you to communicate in spite of yourself.” The test is whether or not she communicate something to the “right people.” And the right people, for her, are a small circle of her peers to which she directs her artistic communications. If they, and others who can consider her work intelligently “don’t get it, then I’m doing something wrong.” [43]
Liz Wylie: In looking at Susan Menzies' paintings, I am struck with a sense of her hyperawareness as an artist of all levels of possible interpretation of, and pitfalls for, her work. Her positive perseverance, her continuing to paint in the face of this self-consciousness, is inspiring. […] Menzies maintains an accepting stance towards art history, and she operates from a positive base, not an eroded, cynical one. She does not fall silent with worry about the mass proliferation and devaluation of images in our epoch, but rather delights in the process, the journey, the invention of self, as she creates her own motifs to add to the cacophony. Marc Siegner: She was one of those very hard workers. You know, SNAP really came along because people put a lot of time in, and all of these projects had to be done by someone. Sue was a bit of a workaholic in many many ways, and also liked that sense of community. [44]
Robin Smith-Peck: The community part of it was always you know, six people who have a couple cases of beer. It’s not hundreds, it’s not thousands, just a few folks. And then the opportunities to exhibit, to show, put stuff on your resumé. I think the warehouse shows worked really well for everyone in the building.
Larisa Sembaliuk-Cheladyn: You felt you were in an atmosphere like you read about in New York. It really, truly was—we had our studios up in the top of this old building, and the actual exhibit had wine, people you didn’t know came and talked. It was a highlight for me, and it was my first exhibit.
Robin Smith-Peck: It wasn’t the painters and the sculptors and the printmakers etc. it was just artists coming together to hang out, enjoy each other’s company and talk about art and possibilities. No separate camps, no us and them, just people interested in the potential of art. I remember feeling like we had accomplished something that was good and positive. We had found a way to provide space for artists from all disciplines to work next to each other and to learn from each other and build something. [45]
Phyllis Matousek: The artists are unaccustomed to having such an extensive area in which to display their work. Susan Menzies took advantage of the space to create a large installation and finished it off win two of her paintings, as well as a tape recording. [39]
Helen Collinson: She is an artist of real versatility who has talent in several areas. For this exhibition she has fabricated a personal space in the form of a room containing mysterious symbols and icons at once imbued with religiosity and parody. A painting covering the end wall of the room extends to the ceiling, where angels/devils abound. A chair is provided for the required contemplation. [40]
Liz Wylie: Much of the meaning of her work appears to lie in the interstices involved in her practice—that is, in what she does not overtly tell us, does not portray. By means of her media(the choice of wood as a support, for instance, a substance that was once alive, and also has a long tradition in the history of Western art), her imagery (which is often personal, arcane, vaguely suggestive, not always decisively clear), and the emotional content in her art (one senses a variety of feelings, ranging from vulnerability to love, from passion and desire to loss), Menzies creates work that is at once moving and intellectually engaging. [41]
Susan Menzies: What turn out to be good lessons are the ways in which people misinterpret my work, or the way in which they can see past those red herrings I put in, sometimes without even realizing they are there. I’d just like to get to the point where there’s less room for misunderstanding and I’m in a position to say to people, with art or whatever, these things are wrong while others are right or funny or important. [42]
Clint Buehler: Menzies’ work is about communication, much of it autobiographical. She doesn’t claim to have any secrets in the creation of her art, “just little bits of magic you can make occasionally… that enable you to communicate in spite of yourself.” The test is whether or not she communicate something to the “right people.” And the right people, for her, are a small circle of her peers to which she directs her artistic communications. If they, and others who can consider her work intelligently “don’t get it, then I’m doing something wrong.” [43]
Liz Wylie: In looking at Susan Menzies' paintings, I am struck with a sense of her hyperawareness as an artist of all levels of possible interpretation of, and pitfalls for, her work. Her positive perseverance, her continuing to paint in the face of this self-consciousness, is inspiring. […] Menzies maintains an accepting stance towards art history, and she operates from a positive base, not an eroded, cynical one. She does not fall silent with worry about the mass proliferation and devaluation of images in our epoch, but rather delights in the process, the journey, the invention of self, as she creates her own motifs to add to the cacophony. Marc Siegner: She was one of those very hard workers. You know, SNAP really came along because people put a lot of time in, and all of these projects had to be done by someone. Sue was a bit of a workaholic in many many ways, and also liked that sense of community. [44]
Robin Smith-Peck: The community part of it was always you know, six people who have a couple cases of beer. It’s not hundreds, it’s not thousands, just a few folks. And then the opportunities to exhibit, to show, put stuff on your resumé. I think the warehouse shows worked really well for everyone in the building.
Larisa Sembaliuk-Cheladyn: You felt you were in an atmosphere like you read about in New York. It really, truly was—we had our studios up in the top of this old building, and the actual exhibit had wine, people you didn’t know came and talked. It was a highlight for me, and it was my first exhibit.
Robin Smith-Peck: It wasn’t the painters and the sculptors and the printmakers etc. it was just artists coming together to hang out, enjoy each other’s company and talk about art and possibilities. No separate camps, no us and them, just people interested in the potential of art. I remember feeling like we had accomplished something that was good and positive. We had found a way to provide space for artists from all disciplines to work next to each other and to learn from each other and build something. [45]
Above: Bernd Hildebrandt, Light, Paper, Black, wood, paper, ink, fluorescent lights and electrical hardware, 1986, photo by Louise Asselstine; featured in Out of Print, SNAP-organized show at Beaver House Gallery, 1986
Marc Siegner: I thought that one of our best shows was “Out of Print,” as part of The Works in 1986 at the Beaver House Gallery. The range of techniques and the inclusion of text along with a marvellous gallery space worked to make this an outstanding exhibition. Transcending traditional approaches to print on paper this show celebrated the potential for printmaking to transform the way we look at word and image. [46]
Out of Print: The show brings together the talents of fifteen artists and graphic designers who have been invited to explore the conjunction or words and images in the context of printmaking. Participants were asked to investigate the ways that words can lend themselves to visual interpretation: for example through manipulation of the word form or by combining or juxtaposing words and images. The artists have responded with work in a variety of print media from traditional woodblock and etching to xerography and word-processor printouts. In addition, several of the artists have combined printmaking with other media, such as collage, painting or sculpture. [47]
Vivienne Sosnowski: It's a damned clever show, made more exciting by the quality of work by artists such as Bernd Hildebrandt, whose Light, Paper, Black is an astounding aesthetic success. His piece deals in archetypes that he reworks into a powerful comment on artistic possibilities. As we decipher his images—word, material, matrix—we are forced to rethink the messages evoked by the intimate fusion of these three devices. [48]
Marc Siegner: I thought that one of our best shows was “Out of Print,” as part of The Works in 1986 at the Beaver House Gallery. The range of techniques and the inclusion of text along with a marvellous gallery space worked to make this an outstanding exhibition. Transcending traditional approaches to print on paper this show celebrated the potential for printmaking to transform the way we look at word and image. [46]
Out of Print: The show brings together the talents of fifteen artists and graphic designers who have been invited to explore the conjunction or words and images in the context of printmaking. Participants were asked to investigate the ways that words can lend themselves to visual interpretation: for example through manipulation of the word form or by combining or juxtaposing words and images. The artists have responded with work in a variety of print media from traditional woodblock and etching to xerography and word-processor printouts. In addition, several of the artists have combined printmaking with other media, such as collage, painting or sculpture. [47]
Vivienne Sosnowski: It's a damned clever show, made more exciting by the quality of work by artists such as Bernd Hildebrandt, whose Light, Paper, Black is an astounding aesthetic success. His piece deals in archetypes that he reworks into a powerful comment on artistic possibilities. As we decipher his images—word, material, matrix—we are forced to rethink the messages evoked by the intimate fusion of these three devices. [48]
Above: Installation views of The Great West Saddlery Show, 1987; 1. left to right, paintings by Cal Bursey, prints by Tina Cho, and a painting by Greg Swain; 2. suite of prints by Tina Cho, lithography and serigraphy, 1987; 3. Lew Colborne, Untitled #1, relief, collagraph, screenprint, 1986; 4. Patricia McEvoy, site-specific installation with paintings in acrylic and oil, graphite, chalk, pastels, prints, 1987; 5. Diane Shantz, site-specific installation including painting and sculptural elements, 1987; 6. painting by Phil Mann; 7. installation of sculptures by Patrick Morin
Robin Smith-Peck: This year we felt the time was right to present Edmonton with the opportunity to view the artists in the building. The 1987 “Great West Saddlery Show” installed on the 1st floor of this 1911 warehouse, is an exhibition of 17 of these artists. […] Co-ordinated by SNAP, the project is successful due to the long hard hours put in by the artists themselves. They have not only produced the art, they have scrubbed floors, installed lighting, painted walls, delivered posters, etc. Sometimes we have wondered after one of those particularly long days why we were bothering; what was the point? But inside we know that the point is to communicate, not only to the community but to ourselves. This is a non-curated show. Meaning that each artist chose the works they wanted to exhibit in their chosen space. The adoption of a non-curated format has been partially responsible for the critical dialogue that has arisen among the artists as the work was installed. The demands placed on the artists to clarify intentions and to have an opportunity to hear other opinions has certainly been one of the great benefits in participating in a project like this. [49]
Tina Cho: I remember that show. That year I was working on a series about dreams. I asked friends and people I knew to talk about dreams and I made a series of that. I remember the exhibition, at that time was the summer, and there were lots of people. My grandmother came to the show, and I was really surprised that she took an interest, because she always would say “Tina, being an artist is a really hard life.” But she came out, and that made me really happy.
Robin Smith-Peck: Tina makes books now. She’s delightful, she was one of our students and one of the first ones at SNAP, and just quietly always there, always when you needed her she was there. Who else was in that show… Lew Colborne.
Marc Siegner: Dad of Snake!
Robin Smith-Peck: Lovely guy, plays great sax. He had the studio next to me at SNAP, and I was his tech when he was a sessional at the UofA. He came out of Winnipeg, and they had a great scene from the mid-60s on with the Great Western Screen Shop and all those guys. Lew goes to Texas, falls in love, comes up to teach, and then his girlfriend/soon-to-be-wife came here while he’s teaching so she can have a baby in Canada for free. And they had Snake.
Marc Siegner: Not the kid’s real name…
Robin Smith-Peck: I’m not even sure what they called him, but I always called him Snake.
Marc Siegner: We said Lew, you should name that kid Snake!
Robin Smith-Peck: Snake Colborne. He was delightful. Lew only did a few prints here; what he did mostly were drawings. Big giant charcoal drawings… A lovely person, a lot of fun. And then they went back to the states.
Patricia McEvoy: My work is a metaphor for the processes of self-exploration and self-realization: laying bare by excavating, then issuing forth from concealment and obscurity into being. Self-realization necessitates acknowledgement of the [corporeal] body. The physical/sexual self is an implement by which one can come nearer to truth than by a truth obtained solely through a rational pursuit. [50]
Robin Smith-Peck: We had these long discussions about art, and how it made any kind of contribution or difference, and as we went through all of this, that was when she decided to go back and try med school. I said I don’t know if you can bring all those concerns to art, I don’t think that’s what art’s for, but I think if you really want to make a difference and help and do all of that, then I think you got to go into something like medicine. You got to bring that urge to the place where its best served.
Marc Siegner: But before then she was more involved with SNAP as the president.
Robin Smith-Peck: A lot of times this would be right on the cusp, people in the throws of making a lot of work, trying to figure out where to go. Susan Menzies was doing the assemblage paintings, Peter Wachowich, then Diane Shantz, Pat McEvoy. It was in the air.
Steven Dixon: I mean this is a particular point in time, a snapshot, right? This is pretty telling, this piece by Patricia McEvoy, which is kind of bloody and gory, and it’s pretty clear at that point that she was interested in the body, and it didn’t take much more of this before she applied and was accepted to med school. Sue left her job at the university to go pursue graduate studies. Marna was working as a professional designer, not instead of being an artist, but alongside it. She was pretty busy at the time, and at some point she transitioned back to the UofA for graduate studies.
Marna Bunnell: It was a desire for more creativity, to be more free, to not be constrained by a client or a client’s message. I wanted to create something that could be more free or expressive, even though saying that, I still ended up bringing the two back together again, since there was a client with the work I did in in grad school. So wanting that parameter, wanting that restriction, but still walking those two worlds back together. And then wanting to get into the idea of social change, and definitely wanting some sort of impact that could be shared with a broader community.
Liane Faulder: Bunnell, a local printmaker with a new show featuring posters about prostitution, took those stereotypical, hard images and dismantled them, layer by layer. What emerged is Falling Dolls——a stunning series of seven bus shelter-sized posters which exposes the reality of street life for the girls and women who spend their time, waiting, wondering, on Edmonton’s loneliest street corners. While legs and feet are prominent in the posters, the legs aren't sheathed in black. They are bruised. The feet don't totter in spikes. They're bare, toes curled in like a child’s. [51]
Marna Bunnell: The work was produced with a strong allegiance to the community group, and to the women on the street—that became the guiding force.
Liane Faulder: They've been dragged around quite a bit since they were finished last year. The corners are curling. Crossroads has used the posters for youth education. They were hauled to a recent meeting between police and Norwood residents, and were also in a show this past fall at the Fine Arts Building at the University. But Bunnell doesn't mind if the images become worn. [52]
Marna Bunnell: They’re getting a bit ragtag because they are going places, carrying all that dialogue from the last place they were. That's what makes it a living project. The posters are asking for participation among people. That’s what we need. [53]
Liane Faulder: In places such as Poland, Finland and the former Soviet Union, the poster is a familiar medium for art and outrage. It’s something Bunnell wants to see more of in Edmonton. “Even now, in the face of fast-moving technology, it might be a really great time to invest in the still image on the street,” she says. [54]
Maureen Fenniak: Bunnell's work is like a palimpsest, whose legibility is problematized rather than clarified through a layering of information. Though they may seem naive at first glance, Bunnell’s images provoke an immediate recognition of their content. This however, is merely the point of departure, the destination of which resides within the imagination of the viewer whose “work” it is to synthesize the meaning of the seemingly discreet elements at play within the work. Legibility is thus inscribed as opposed to being passively received. [55]
Robin Smith-Peck: This year we felt the time was right to present Edmonton with the opportunity to view the artists in the building. The 1987 “Great West Saddlery Show” installed on the 1st floor of this 1911 warehouse, is an exhibition of 17 of these artists. […] Co-ordinated by SNAP, the project is successful due to the long hard hours put in by the artists themselves. They have not only produced the art, they have scrubbed floors, installed lighting, painted walls, delivered posters, etc. Sometimes we have wondered after one of those particularly long days why we were bothering; what was the point? But inside we know that the point is to communicate, not only to the community but to ourselves. This is a non-curated show. Meaning that each artist chose the works they wanted to exhibit in their chosen space. The adoption of a non-curated format has been partially responsible for the critical dialogue that has arisen among the artists as the work was installed. The demands placed on the artists to clarify intentions and to have an opportunity to hear other opinions has certainly been one of the great benefits in participating in a project like this. [49]
Tina Cho: I remember that show. That year I was working on a series about dreams. I asked friends and people I knew to talk about dreams and I made a series of that. I remember the exhibition, at that time was the summer, and there were lots of people. My grandmother came to the show, and I was really surprised that she took an interest, because she always would say “Tina, being an artist is a really hard life.” But she came out, and that made me really happy.
Robin Smith-Peck: Tina makes books now. She’s delightful, she was one of our students and one of the first ones at SNAP, and just quietly always there, always when you needed her she was there. Who else was in that show… Lew Colborne.
Marc Siegner: Dad of Snake!
Robin Smith-Peck: Lovely guy, plays great sax. He had the studio next to me at SNAP, and I was his tech when he was a sessional at the UofA. He came out of Winnipeg, and they had a great scene from the mid-60s on with the Great Western Screen Shop and all those guys. Lew goes to Texas, falls in love, comes up to teach, and then his girlfriend/soon-to-be-wife came here while he’s teaching so she can have a baby in Canada for free. And they had Snake.
Marc Siegner: Not the kid’s real name…
Robin Smith-Peck: I’m not even sure what they called him, but I always called him Snake.
Marc Siegner: We said Lew, you should name that kid Snake!
Robin Smith-Peck: Snake Colborne. He was delightful. Lew only did a few prints here; what he did mostly were drawings. Big giant charcoal drawings… A lovely person, a lot of fun. And then they went back to the states.
Patricia McEvoy: My work is a metaphor for the processes of self-exploration and self-realization: laying bare by excavating, then issuing forth from concealment and obscurity into being. Self-realization necessitates acknowledgement of the [corporeal] body. The physical/sexual self is an implement by which one can come nearer to truth than by a truth obtained solely through a rational pursuit. [50]
Robin Smith-Peck: We had these long discussions about art, and how it made any kind of contribution or difference, and as we went through all of this, that was when she decided to go back and try med school. I said I don’t know if you can bring all those concerns to art, I don’t think that’s what art’s for, but I think if you really want to make a difference and help and do all of that, then I think you got to go into something like medicine. You got to bring that urge to the place where its best served.
Marc Siegner: But before then she was more involved with SNAP as the president.
Robin Smith-Peck: A lot of times this would be right on the cusp, people in the throws of making a lot of work, trying to figure out where to go. Susan Menzies was doing the assemblage paintings, Peter Wachowich, then Diane Shantz, Pat McEvoy. It was in the air.
Steven Dixon: I mean this is a particular point in time, a snapshot, right? This is pretty telling, this piece by Patricia McEvoy, which is kind of bloody and gory, and it’s pretty clear at that point that she was interested in the body, and it didn’t take much more of this before she applied and was accepted to med school. Sue left her job at the university to go pursue graduate studies. Marna was working as a professional designer, not instead of being an artist, but alongside it. She was pretty busy at the time, and at some point she transitioned back to the UofA for graduate studies.
Marna Bunnell: It was a desire for more creativity, to be more free, to not be constrained by a client or a client’s message. I wanted to create something that could be more free or expressive, even though saying that, I still ended up bringing the two back together again, since there was a client with the work I did in in grad school. So wanting that parameter, wanting that restriction, but still walking those two worlds back together. And then wanting to get into the idea of social change, and definitely wanting some sort of impact that could be shared with a broader community.
Liane Faulder: Bunnell, a local printmaker with a new show featuring posters about prostitution, took those stereotypical, hard images and dismantled them, layer by layer. What emerged is Falling Dolls——a stunning series of seven bus shelter-sized posters which exposes the reality of street life for the girls and women who spend their time, waiting, wondering, on Edmonton’s loneliest street corners. While legs and feet are prominent in the posters, the legs aren't sheathed in black. They are bruised. The feet don't totter in spikes. They're bare, toes curled in like a child’s. [51]
Marna Bunnell: The work was produced with a strong allegiance to the community group, and to the women on the street—that became the guiding force.
Liane Faulder: They've been dragged around quite a bit since they were finished last year. The corners are curling. Crossroads has used the posters for youth education. They were hauled to a recent meeting between police and Norwood residents, and were also in a show this past fall at the Fine Arts Building at the University. But Bunnell doesn't mind if the images become worn. [52]
Marna Bunnell: They’re getting a bit ragtag because they are going places, carrying all that dialogue from the last place they were. That's what makes it a living project. The posters are asking for participation among people. That’s what we need. [53]
Liane Faulder: In places such as Poland, Finland and the former Soviet Union, the poster is a familiar medium for art and outrage. It’s something Bunnell wants to see more of in Edmonton. “Even now, in the face of fast-moving technology, it might be a really great time to invest in the still image on the street,” she says. [54]
Maureen Fenniak: Bunnell's work is like a palimpsest, whose legibility is problematized rather than clarified through a layering of information. Though they may seem naive at first glance, Bunnell’s images provoke an immediate recognition of their content. This however, is merely the point of departure, the destination of which resides within the imagination of the viewer whose “work” it is to synthesize the meaning of the seemingly discreet elements at play within the work. Legibility is thus inscribed as opposed to being passively received. [55]
Above: Marna Bunnell, Starlight, Starbright, screenprint, 1997
Marna Bunnell: The idea that you want to be more involved in print production can be a problem in the design world, right? You just can’t. But this whole idea of bringing back an ‘artisan’ or a ‘craft’ production—small scale, small run, limited edition productions—it’s because you’re interested in the aesthetics of the ink and the paper and the tactile ways of producing. I really enjoyed that space between large production and something really hand-made. We need it all, we need people to be able to work on all of that. It’s just such a craft. We are so inside the chemical qualities of our materials, so inside it like a magician. It’s so seductive.
Maureen Fenniak: Bunnell's preoccupation with the craft aspect of her art making is manifested in the tactile quality of her surfaces. The work invites touching while at the same time refuting a surface reading. The sensual perception of the material quality of the work subverts distanced or “disinterested” apprehension and cuts through the intellect to a felt, visceral response. This kind of sensual experience forges an intimate connection between the object and the viewing subject. It is this intimate connection that allows Bunnell's work to communicate at a personal level, that is, at the level of a felt response. [56]
Marna Bunnell: The idea that you want to be more involved in print production can be a problem in the design world, right? You just can’t. But this whole idea of bringing back an ‘artisan’ or a ‘craft’ production—small scale, small run, limited edition productions—it’s because you’re interested in the aesthetics of the ink and the paper and the tactile ways of producing. I really enjoyed that space between large production and something really hand-made. We need it all, we need people to be able to work on all of that. It’s just such a craft. We are so inside the chemical qualities of our materials, so inside it like a magician. It’s so seductive.
Maureen Fenniak: Bunnell's preoccupation with the craft aspect of her art making is manifested in the tactile quality of her surfaces. The work invites touching while at the same time refuting a surface reading. The sensual perception of the material quality of the work subverts distanced or “disinterested” apprehension and cuts through the intellect to a felt, visceral response. This kind of sensual experience forges an intimate connection between the object and the viewing subject. It is this intimate connection that allows Bunnell's work to communicate at a personal level, that is, at the level of a felt response. [56]
continue to part three...
***
Footnotes, part 2:
[1] Meaghan Baxter, “Printing and Pressing Onward,” Vue Weekly, Issue 878, Aug. 15 2012, archived from the original at https://web.archive.org/web/20130131060653/http://vueweekly.com/arts/story/printing_and_pressing_onward/
[2] Robin Smith-Peck, SNAP meeting minutes, May 26, 1982, orange folder containing Smith-Peck’s minutes from May 1982-March 1984, SNAP archives.
[3] Meaghan Baxter, “Printing and Pressing Onward,” Vue Weekly, Issue 878, Aug. 15 2012, archived from the original at https://web.archive.org/web/20130131060653/http://vueweekly.com/arts/story/printing_and_pressing_onward/
[4] Catherine Burgess, artist panel ‘Rebellious: Alberta Women Artists in Conversation - Edmonton Edition,’ Art Gallery of Alberta, January 16, 2020.
[5] Robin Smith-Peck, “Re: The formation of the Society of Northern Alberta Print-Artists,” a brief presented at the S.N.A.P. General Membership Meeting October 17, 1982, orange folder containing Smith-Peck’s minutes from May 1982-March 1984, SNAP archives.
[6] Elizabeth Beauchamp, “Art scene stagnated in the ‘80s,” Edmonton Journal, January 2, 1990, B4.
[7] Robin Smith-Peck, interviewed by Sydney Lancaster on 14.02.2020, “Robin Smith-Peck Interview Transcription,” online supplement to SNAPLine, 2020.1, https://snapartists.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/ROBIN-SMITH-PECK-INTERVIEW-TRANSCRIPTION.pdf
[8] Sara Angel, “Four Nights in the Funhouse: Janet Cardiff and George Miller at the Venice Biennale,” July 14, 2001, https://saraangel.ca/project/four-nights-in-the-funhouse
[9] Janet Cardiff, artist statement, ‘3 MVA Shows,’ Ring House Gallery, April 1983.
[10] Janet Cardiff, quoted in Deirdre Hanna, “Looking in on Janet Cardiff’s Voyeuristic Art World,” NOW Magazine, vol. 5 no. 31, April 10-16, 1986, 27-30, reproduced in Janet Cardiff: A Survey of Works Including Collaborations with George Bures Miller (New York: P.S.1 Contemporary Art Center, 2001) 164.
[11] Marc Siegner, interviewed by Sydney Lancaster on 13.02.2020, “Marc Siegner Interview Transcription,” online supplement to SNAPLine, 2020.1, https://snapartists.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/MARC-SIEGNER-INTERVIEW-TRANSCRIPTION.pdf
[12] Mark Joslin, “Journey,” Latitude 53 Society of Artists Newsletter, February 1996, 3.
[13] Liz Wylie, “All We Love We Leave Behind,” in Kelowna Art Gallery Dossiers: Marc Siegner, Adaptation (Kelowna: Kelowna Art Gallery, 2014) unpaginated.
[14] Mark Joslin, “Journey,” Latitude 53 Society of Artists Newsletter, February 1996, 4.
[15] Angus Wyatt, “Marc Siegner,” SNAP Newsletter, September 1991, 1-2.
[16] Robin Smith-Peck, statement in Darrah & Smith-Peck (Calgary: Wallace Galleries, 202) 30-31.
[17] Robin Smith-Peck, interviewed by Susan Menzies, SNAP Newsletter, May 1990, 2.
[18] Patricia Grattan, unsourced 2004 quotation, included in Robin Smith-Peck’s biographical entry in From Time to Time, a portfolio organized by Walter Jule, 2015.
[19] Robin Smith-Peck, artist statement from ‘Marginal Quotations’ exhibit at Latitude 53, 1994, quoted in Helen Collinson, ‘Robin Smith-Peck: marginal quotations,’ Latitude 53 Society of Artists Newsletter, January/February 1994, 2.
[20] Robin Smith-Peck, SNAP meeting minutes, October 17, 1982, orange folder containing Smith-Peck’s minutes from May 1982-March 1984, SNAP archives.
[21] Trudie Heiman, editor, Latitude 53: A Decade (Edmonton: Latitude 53, 1983) unpaginated.
[22] Lorraine New, artist statement, ‘3 MVA Shows,’ Ring House Gallery, April 1983.
[23] Melinda Pinfold, entry for Mary Joyce in Rebellious, curated by Lindsey Sharman (Edmonton: Art Gallery of Alberta, 2019) 58.
[24] Ibid.
[25] Mary Joyce, responding to questions in ‘Where They Stand,’ Edmonton Journal, February 16, 1980, L11.
[26] Cherie Moses, interviewed by Helen Collinson, “Mother,” Edmonton Bullet, vol. 2, no. 3, May 30, 1984, 14.
[27] Darci Schuler-Mallon, ‘Darci Mallon interviewed by darci mallon,’ SNAPNewsletter, October 1989, 1
[28] Barry Kleber, ‘New Look for EAG,’ Edmonton Bullet, vol 6 no 7, October 1, 1988, 7.
Note: ‘Barry Kleber’ was a pseudonymous art critic for the Edmonton Bullet from 1988 through the early 1990s. ‘He’ was the creation of Garth Rankin and Randal (Randy) Adams. According to Rankin: “Randy was the writer, and generally had a better sense of humour when it came to the visual art scene, and I was the more snarky one, more likely to stick the knife in. We just went out exploring, we didn’t have any agenda other than our particular attitudes toward the overall situation. There was a certain honesty in it, a lack of pretension perhaps—we didn’t want to think of ourselves as ‘experts,’ it was more like ‘just a couple of bums going out and looking at artwork’ was the attitude we wanted to bring to it. Avoiding wisdom and just having an experience. When you go in and look at something you’re a participant, and that’s one of the things that artists, maybe, don’t always consider so much when they’re making art—the whole process (that overused word) of making is really the most satisfying part of the whole thing... though I’m sure a big exhibition and big sales would be satisfying as well... So you walk in and you look at it and say ‘what do you think?’ and it’s nice to have a friend or accomplice with you to discuss things. So that’s what we would do. We wanted to create a dialogue—we’d go out and shoot our mouths off about what we saw in the galleries, anonymously. That part was just for fun.” My thanks to Blair Brennan, Ruby Mah, Candas Dorsey, and Steven Dixon for helping unravel the truth behind this mystery of the Edmonton art scene.
[29] Darci Schuler-Mallon, ‘Darci Mallon interviewed by darci mallon,’ SNAP Newsletter, October 1989, 1.
[30] Kitty Scott, ‘A Legible Hand,’ in Darci Mallon: Engrams (Edmonton: Edmonton Art Gallery, 1995), poster publication.
[31] Barry Kleber, “EAG removes the big blank wall,” Edmonton Bullet, vol. 6 no. 8, November 1, 1988, 17.
[32] Darci Schuler-Mallon, ‘Darci Mallon interviewed by darci mallon,’ SNAP Newsletter, October 1989, 1.
[33] Barry Kleber, “New Look for EAG,” Edmonton Bullet, vol. 6 no. 7, October 1, 1988, 7.
[34] Mary-Beth Laviolette, An Alberta Art Chronicle (Canmore: Altitude Publishing, 2006), 182.
[35] Helen Collinson, “Ten Plus,” Edmonton Bullet, June 1, 1985, 9.
[36] Charlene Olsen-Popyk, “From Ross Ranch-Sage Creek,” SNAP Newsletter, February 1993, 3.
[37] Bente Roed Cochran, Contemporary Edmonton Prints (Edmonton: Edmonton Art Gallery, 1988) 12.
[38] Doris Friedrich, in conversation with Brian Noble, “Rough Intuition,” SNAP Newsletter, August 1992, 1-2.
[39] Phyllis Matousek, “Probe nooks and crannies for worthwhile artworks,” Edmonton Journal, June 1, 1985, D5.
[40] Helen Collinson, “Ten Plus,” Edmonton Bullet, June 1, 1985, 9.
[41] Liz Wylie, “Susan Menzies: Offering and Concealment,” in Dream Logic: Susan Menzies: Offering and Concealment (Edmonton: Edmonton Art Gallery, 1994), unpaginated.
[42] Susan Menzies, quoted in Clint Buehler, “Susan Menzies,” Alberta Art Foundation Visual Arts Newsletter, December 1985, 13.
[43] Clint Buehler, “Susan Menzies,” Alberta Art Foundation Visual Arts Newsletter, December 1985, 13.
[44] Liz Wylie, “Susan Menzies: Offering and Concealment,” in Dream Logic: Susan Menzies: Offering and Concealment (Edmonton: Edmonton Art Gallery, 1994), unpaginated.
[45] Robin Smith-Peck, statement for Looking In & Looking Back: Works and Reflections by SNAP Presidents, 2012.
[46] Marc Siegner, statement for Looking In & Looking Back: Works and Reflections by SNAP Presidents, 2012.
[47] Out of Print (Edmonton: Society of Northern Alberta Print-artists, 1986) unpaginated. Statement possibly written by Sue Menzies.
[48] Vivienne Sosnowski, ‘Print artists show shattering power,’ Edmonton Journal, July 26, 1986, C8.
[49] Robin Smith-Peck, in The Great West Saddlery Show 1987 (Edmonton: Society of Northern Alberta Print-artists, June 1987) 1.
[50] Patricia McEvoy, artist statement in The Great West Saddlery Show (Edmonton: Society of Northern Alberta Print-artists, June 1987) unpaginated.
[51] Liane Faulder, “The power is in our hands,” Edmonton Journal, March 14, 1994, C.
[52] Ibid.
[53] Ibid.
[54] Ibid.
[55] Maureen Fenniak, “The Poetics of Communication,” seven.80, September 1998, 2-3.
[56] Ibid.