SNAP at 40, Part V: (and then there was) Sightlines
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: Marna Bunnell, SNAP, screenprinted poster commissioned for SNAP’s 10th anniversary, 1992
Mike Bowman: In the middle of 1994 when I came on the board the focus of the organization was wavering and SNAP was in a period of transition. A meeting was organized in the that summer to discuss SNAP’s future. This was by no means an official meeting of SNAP, there was no agenda, no minutes, no Robert's rules, and no bylaws. There was only some wine, food and a number of people who cared about SNAP. There were no specific recommendations that arose out of this meeting and much of what was discussed is now forgotten but there was a wave of energy that has radiated out from that day. […] We were just a group of individuals who were passionate about printmaking. When I say “we” I am referring not only to the board but to all the people that shared and were a part of a renewed vitality that reflected the vision of the society from its inception. In short we found the twine, we remembered: The Society of Northern Alberta Print-artists exists to facilitate, promote and communicate printmaking as an art form. [1]
Angus Wyatt: In many ways printmaking is the ideal vehicle for the types of themes that Bowman is investigating. Layers hidden beneath layers occasionally emerging for all to see, each one a record (history) of some previous activity. The final product a structure that arises from multiple forces (techniques) applied to materials. Matter destroyed, reorganized, re-presented. A physical memory of labour, time and process. [2]
David LaRivere: From the moment that Bowman lined the SNAP Gallery with used ¾ inch plywood the entire installation drew upon a set of new relations—between object and representation, wood and sand, inside (gallery) and outside (world). These cruddy four by eight perforated sheets are commonly used by a "cribber" for the purposes of constructing cement walls. Bowman completely transformed the environment of the gallery with the sheets, achieving a Beuysian environment of sorts, with the altered sense of sight, sound and very notably, smell. Interestingly enough, the net effect of his installation, (both through the coupling of object and image and through transformation of space), was a space that allowed for the commonplace to attain beauty through its insertion into that most rarefied of institutional spaces—the art gallery, most certainly a "Sandcastle" of sorts. [3]
Angus Wyatt: Thematically Bowman is dealing with notions of entropy and memory. His fascination stems from an experience travelling in Morocco when he came upon an old structure half buried in the shifting sand dunes. This event, marvellous in its own right, triggered a series of childhood recollections. The image/object is a photographic representation of a sand dune bordered by paper bearing the scars and dirt of an unlaid or long forgotten foundation. Clearly the image conjures up a series of evocative questions: What lies buried under the sand? Is all form doomed to return to the state from whence it came? Does time eradicate all sense of memory? Are we all (all that we are) subject to the unpredictable and uncontrollable nature of change? What record remains of history, personal and otherwise? [4]
Mike Bowman: In the middle of 1994 when I came on the board the focus of the organization was wavering and SNAP was in a period of transition. A meeting was organized in the that summer to discuss SNAP’s future. This was by no means an official meeting of SNAP, there was no agenda, no minutes, no Robert's rules, and no bylaws. There was only some wine, food and a number of people who cared about SNAP. There were no specific recommendations that arose out of this meeting and much of what was discussed is now forgotten but there was a wave of energy that has radiated out from that day. […] We were just a group of individuals who were passionate about printmaking. When I say “we” I am referring not only to the board but to all the people that shared and were a part of a renewed vitality that reflected the vision of the society from its inception. In short we found the twine, we remembered: The Society of Northern Alberta Print-artists exists to facilitate, promote and communicate printmaking as an art form. [1]
Angus Wyatt: In many ways printmaking is the ideal vehicle for the types of themes that Bowman is investigating. Layers hidden beneath layers occasionally emerging for all to see, each one a record (history) of some previous activity. The final product a structure that arises from multiple forces (techniques) applied to materials. Matter destroyed, reorganized, re-presented. A physical memory of labour, time and process. [2]
David LaRivere: From the moment that Bowman lined the SNAP Gallery with used ¾ inch plywood the entire installation drew upon a set of new relations—between object and representation, wood and sand, inside (gallery) and outside (world). These cruddy four by eight perforated sheets are commonly used by a "cribber" for the purposes of constructing cement walls. Bowman completely transformed the environment of the gallery with the sheets, achieving a Beuysian environment of sorts, with the altered sense of sight, sound and very notably, smell. Interestingly enough, the net effect of his installation, (both through the coupling of object and image and through transformation of space), was a space that allowed for the commonplace to attain beauty through its insertion into that most rarefied of institutional spaces—the art gallery, most certainly a "Sandcastle" of sorts. [3]
Angus Wyatt: Thematically Bowman is dealing with notions of entropy and memory. His fascination stems from an experience travelling in Morocco when he came upon an old structure half buried in the shifting sand dunes. This event, marvellous in its own right, triggered a series of childhood recollections. The image/object is a photographic representation of a sand dune bordered by paper bearing the scars and dirt of an unlaid or long forgotten foundation. Clearly the image conjures up a series of evocative questions: What lies buried under the sand? Is all form doomed to return to the state from whence it came? Does time eradicate all sense of memory? Are we all (all that we are) subject to the unpredictable and uncontrollable nature of change? What record remains of history, personal and otherwise? [4]
Above: Michael Bowman, 9° 50’ W 31° 45’ Essaouira II, lithograph, 1996
Ilona Kennedy: I got involved with SNAP administratively around 1996, when I sat on the board under Mike Bowman's presidency. I made some suggestions regarding the board structure, and fundraising, including spearheading the 15th Anniversary portfolio. I had done one for the UofA's printmaking school to raise money for a much needed new printing press, which had been a success, so we went with that idea again. I also suggested SNAP broaden its educational outreach program to local schools and teachers, which began the following year.
Pat [DiMarcello] Prodaniuk: [Ilona’s] a really interesting woman, and knew Mike Bowman quite well. I think a lot of what happened during that time was because of him being the president, and him having had Ilona at his side prodding him. I don’t remember what her work was about, because I didn’t go to school with her, so I got to know her through SNAP.
Ilona Kennedy: Well, the series [“Templars' Dreams”] is based on photographs derived from two sources. The architectural elements come from photographs I took of La Couvertoirade in Languedoc, France, while living there for a year. It is a ancient fortified village dating from the 12th century when the Templars built a castle, church and cemetery to provide succour to pilgrims traveling across the bleak and savage land. In the 1500's the Knights of the Hospitallers, who took over for the Templars, added walls and towers to fortify the village. The textures and shapes of the arches, doorways, windows and walls evoked the same response in me that a room full of Tapies does: a kind of rush something intangible and almost spiritual. I kept going back to this village, and each time, in the stillness, I felt a presence of spirits or memories or maybe simply energies, moving around me as I explored their ancient domiciles. I felt a connection with history that I haven't experienced before. While in France I also took photographs of children dressed for Carnival. When I looked at the developed images I was struck by the seriousness of the children's faces, and the watchfulness in their eyes. Their gazes evoked a similar feeling I had at La Couvertoirade. So I began thinking of using the children to depict the energies I felt at that ancient site. [5]
Ilona Kennedy: I got involved with SNAP administratively around 1996, when I sat on the board under Mike Bowman's presidency. I made some suggestions regarding the board structure, and fundraising, including spearheading the 15th Anniversary portfolio. I had done one for the UofA's printmaking school to raise money for a much needed new printing press, which had been a success, so we went with that idea again. I also suggested SNAP broaden its educational outreach program to local schools and teachers, which began the following year.
Pat [DiMarcello] Prodaniuk: [Ilona’s] a really interesting woman, and knew Mike Bowman quite well. I think a lot of what happened during that time was because of him being the president, and him having had Ilona at his side prodding him. I don’t remember what her work was about, because I didn’t go to school with her, so I got to know her through SNAP.
Ilona Kennedy: Well, the series [“Templars' Dreams”] is based on photographs derived from two sources. The architectural elements come from photographs I took of La Couvertoirade in Languedoc, France, while living there for a year. It is a ancient fortified village dating from the 12th century when the Templars built a castle, church and cemetery to provide succour to pilgrims traveling across the bleak and savage land. In the 1500's the Knights of the Hospitallers, who took over for the Templars, added walls and towers to fortify the village. The textures and shapes of the arches, doorways, windows and walls evoked the same response in me that a room full of Tapies does: a kind of rush something intangible and almost spiritual. I kept going back to this village, and each time, in the stillness, I felt a presence of spirits or memories or maybe simply energies, moving around me as I explored their ancient domiciles. I felt a connection with history that I haven't experienced before. While in France I also took photographs of children dressed for Carnival. When I looked at the developed images I was struck by the seriousness of the children's faces, and the watchfulness in their eyes. Their gazes evoked a similar feeling I had at La Couvertoirade. So I began thinking of using the children to depict the energies I felt at that ancient site. [5]
Above: Anthony Pavlic, installation included in "The Greatest Great West Saddlery Show," cast plaster, cast paper, tin ceiling tile, sod, lightbulb, embedded microphone and speaker, 1989
SNAP 15th Anniversary Portfolio: Ilona’s imagination conjured up ghostly images from the past, especially in the form of children. She could almost hear and see them playing in the nooks and crannies as they must have done hundreds of years ago. [6]
Ilona Kennedy: I later combined the architectural backdrops with photos I had taken of children dressed for Carnival. I silkscreened them on top of the etchings. Although I switched back to painting and collage when I moved to the States, my recent work in cold wax continues to incorporate hints of textures and photos of ancient sites I explored in Europe. I've also collaged parts of some of my old prints into my pieces. And when I visit museums, I continue to seek out printmaking collections. Printmaking remains my first love.
Mike Bowman: In the fall of 1995, SNAP was approached by the Latitude 53 Society of Artists with a proposal that would see the the back of the Latitude 53 exhibition space converted into a space for SNAP to use for programming. We applied for and received an AFA project grant for the creation of the new gallery and in the early spring Latitude and SNAP volunteers began the renovations to the space. On September 12, 1996 the SNAP gallery opened to the immediate interest of the community at large. For me this has been an exciting process to witness, to be a part of, that has seen our humble society mature into an important forum for the Edmonton Artistic and Cultural Community. [7]
Marc Siegner: There was a bit of foreshadowing when Richard Yates set up a gallery in his studio. I think he rented a smaller space and turned it into a gallery—that’s where a lot of us bought our first Katsunori Hamanishi prints.
Robin Smith-Peck: Richard Yates and I started off at SNAP sharing a studio together, then he moved down onto the 4th floor when we built the studios down there; the first thing he did with his studio while he was still sharing a studio with me, was he brought over all these Polish prints! — these posters and Polish prints he had, and he put up an exhibition. They were extraordinary! Being able to see Polish film prints at a time before the Wall came down! [8]
Richard Yates: Yes, I opened that gallery in an empty studio space on the second floor at the top of the stairs. At first I wanted to show about twenty Polish theatre posters that were very expressive. I had arranged a show of mine in Krakow and while there acquired these theatre posters at a very advantageous black market exchange rate. May have sold a few. But the gallery did not have great exposure and did not last long. Six months? Fun while it lasted. Took Hamanishi and his wife out to Elk Island Park on a walk in the woods as he used that type of imagery. Think [we] snuck in some grouse hunting then too. [9]
Steven Dixon: I think the membership started to want to see exhibitions——not just local but regional and international exhibitions just as a way to help situate yourself. So that was a demand, or a need, and it was met with a small gallery which I think served its purpose, and still does, in providing more exhibitions.
Angus Wyatt: It was the influx of new graduates (Mike Bowman, Sean Caulfield, etc.) that wanted to push the organization into a more ‘traditional’ but active participation in the city’s cultural scene. To this end the logical extension was for SNAP to open its own gallery. Things evolved in the city as the University opened its own gallery and the Edmonton Art Gallery began to have more progressive curatorial initiatives. In this sense SNAP felt like it was becoming part of something a bit bigger. The Gallery initially resided within the Latitude 53 Gallery space and relied on that organization’s generosity and assistance.
SNAP 15th Anniversary Portfolio: Ilona’s imagination conjured up ghostly images from the past, especially in the form of children. She could almost hear and see them playing in the nooks and crannies as they must have done hundreds of years ago. [6]
Ilona Kennedy: I later combined the architectural backdrops with photos I had taken of children dressed for Carnival. I silkscreened them on top of the etchings. Although I switched back to painting and collage when I moved to the States, my recent work in cold wax continues to incorporate hints of textures and photos of ancient sites I explored in Europe. I've also collaged parts of some of my old prints into my pieces. And when I visit museums, I continue to seek out printmaking collections. Printmaking remains my first love.
Mike Bowman: In the fall of 1995, SNAP was approached by the Latitude 53 Society of Artists with a proposal that would see the the back of the Latitude 53 exhibition space converted into a space for SNAP to use for programming. We applied for and received an AFA project grant for the creation of the new gallery and in the early spring Latitude and SNAP volunteers began the renovations to the space. On September 12, 1996 the SNAP gallery opened to the immediate interest of the community at large. For me this has been an exciting process to witness, to be a part of, that has seen our humble society mature into an important forum for the Edmonton Artistic and Cultural Community. [7]
Marc Siegner: There was a bit of foreshadowing when Richard Yates set up a gallery in his studio. I think he rented a smaller space and turned it into a gallery—that’s where a lot of us bought our first Katsunori Hamanishi prints.
Robin Smith-Peck: Richard Yates and I started off at SNAP sharing a studio together, then he moved down onto the 4th floor when we built the studios down there; the first thing he did with his studio while he was still sharing a studio with me, was he brought over all these Polish prints! — these posters and Polish prints he had, and he put up an exhibition. They were extraordinary! Being able to see Polish film prints at a time before the Wall came down! [8]
Richard Yates: Yes, I opened that gallery in an empty studio space on the second floor at the top of the stairs. At first I wanted to show about twenty Polish theatre posters that were very expressive. I had arranged a show of mine in Krakow and while there acquired these theatre posters at a very advantageous black market exchange rate. May have sold a few. But the gallery did not have great exposure and did not last long. Six months? Fun while it lasted. Took Hamanishi and his wife out to Elk Island Park on a walk in the woods as he used that type of imagery. Think [we] snuck in some grouse hunting then too. [9]
Steven Dixon: I think the membership started to want to see exhibitions——not just local but regional and international exhibitions just as a way to help situate yourself. So that was a demand, or a need, and it was met with a small gallery which I think served its purpose, and still does, in providing more exhibitions.
Angus Wyatt: It was the influx of new graduates (Mike Bowman, Sean Caulfield, etc.) that wanted to push the organization into a more ‘traditional’ but active participation in the city’s cultural scene. To this end the logical extension was for SNAP to open its own gallery. Things evolved in the city as the University opened its own gallery and the Edmonton Art Gallery began to have more progressive curatorial initiatives. In this sense SNAP felt like it was becoming part of something a bit bigger. The Gallery initially resided within the Latitude 53 Gallery space and relied on that organization’s generosity and assistance.
Above: Toast raised at the opening of SNAP’s gallery in 1996, left to right: Angus Wyatt, Walter Jule, Ilona Kennedy, Liz Ingram, Mike Bowman, Marna Bunnell
Nick Dobson: I kept going back and forth between Latitude and SNAP, so for a while I was president of SNAP, and for a while I was president of Latitude. Mike was president of SNAP when I was president of Latitude. That worked really well, because the two organizations fed each other. I’d say to Mike, ‘hey, how bout we do this?’ and he’d say ok, or vice versa. So it worked pretty darn well. And it was funny, because I think the best thing I ever did for SNAP was something I did while I was president of Latitude: I changed the space at Latitude so that SNAP had a gallery in the back, and it meant that SNAP could program.
Earl McKenzie: It became a much more public organization and became an integrated operation with exhibition programming, studio and workshop space, and the education program. It suddenly felt like we were part of the global art scene, rather than just local. [10]
Nick Dobson: It changed the funding dynamic for SNAP, because up until that point in time they could only apply for project funding, and once they got the gallery… well, there were problems with that too. What was the name of the guy who was at the AFA at that time? Ross Bradley——he thought that SNAP’s gallery and Latitude were the same entity, and it took us a while to convince him they were separate. But in a sense that’s always been what we’ve done in Edmonton, and was one of the best things about SNAP: the opportunity to be creative when you’re building an organization.
Nick Dobson: I kept going back and forth between Latitude and SNAP, so for a while I was president of SNAP, and for a while I was president of Latitude. Mike was president of SNAP when I was president of Latitude. That worked really well, because the two organizations fed each other. I’d say to Mike, ‘hey, how bout we do this?’ and he’d say ok, or vice versa. So it worked pretty darn well. And it was funny, because I think the best thing I ever did for SNAP was something I did while I was president of Latitude: I changed the space at Latitude so that SNAP had a gallery in the back, and it meant that SNAP could program.
Earl McKenzie: It became a much more public organization and became an integrated operation with exhibition programming, studio and workshop space, and the education program. It suddenly felt like we were part of the global art scene, rather than just local. [10]
Nick Dobson: It changed the funding dynamic for SNAP, because up until that point in time they could only apply for project funding, and once they got the gallery… well, there were problems with that too. What was the name of the guy who was at the AFA at that time? Ross Bradley——he thought that SNAP’s gallery and Latitude were the same entity, and it took us a while to convince him they were separate. But in a sense that’s always been what we’ve done in Edmonton, and was one of the best things about SNAP: the opportunity to be creative when you’re building an organization.
Above: 1. Michelle LaVoie, Under Brush, inkjet, relief, 2008; 2. Earl MacKenzie, mezzotint, 1999; 3. Angus Wyatt in the SNAP office, late 1990s
Angus Wyatt: I was hired as a part time administrator to oversee submissions, advertising, openings, maintenance, etc. as well as help maintain the printshop / studios (though there was still a massive amount of volunteer work going in to the organization). When the gallery moved into its own space (right beside Latitude) I was still hired part time but was on hand to watch over the space. One of the big changes was when we finally managed to be declared a registered charity and were able to have access to a greater variety of funding options which made the future seem a lot more secure and paved the way to pay someone full time. In a way the public face afforded by the Gallery made this possible.
Michelle LaVoie: I remember the year that I took on the role of president. Mike Bowman was going to Japan and asked me if I would take the reins. It was a daunting task. The gallery was just one year old. My task was to see the gallery continue by securing funding. I remember a few long cold nights up in the 5th floor of the Great West Saddlery Building with our accountant Faye Mowers and Michael Bowman before he left sorting out finances. [11]
Helen Gerritzen: When I first got involved with SNAP, and there were all these people like Mike Bowman, Angus Wyatt, Dave LaRiviere, and Marna Bunnell around. They weren’t always thinking print, it was about community. And people just did it, they showed up and volunteered. It was just different times. People weren’t being paid—which is criminal, really—but they were doing it for the love of it. All these events just happened because of a lot of hard work, vision… and the board did the work, which isn’t the answer either… but is it wrong to want to do something for the love of it?
Walter Jule: I remember walking somewhere, probably from Java Jive in HUB, talking to Liz. And I was reminiscing about the print symposium that Louis Ocepek and I had done in Montana, and I remember Liz said ‘well don’t you think we should do one here before we get too old?’ And of course at that moment I felt really old, but I said you know, maybe we can get some funding and so on…
Steven Dixon: And then there was Sightlines…
Marc Siegner: ...and then there was Sightlines.
Liz Ingram: It was absolutely incredible—it was so much work, it just about killed us all, but it was such an exciting project.
Steven Dixon: I think there was the recognition that it was only ever going to happen once, so everything and the kitchen sink was put in there.
Angus Wyatt: I was hired as a part time administrator to oversee submissions, advertising, openings, maintenance, etc. as well as help maintain the printshop / studios (though there was still a massive amount of volunteer work going in to the organization). When the gallery moved into its own space (right beside Latitude) I was still hired part time but was on hand to watch over the space. One of the big changes was when we finally managed to be declared a registered charity and were able to have access to a greater variety of funding options which made the future seem a lot more secure and paved the way to pay someone full time. In a way the public face afforded by the Gallery made this possible.
Michelle LaVoie: I remember the year that I took on the role of president. Mike Bowman was going to Japan and asked me if I would take the reins. It was a daunting task. The gallery was just one year old. My task was to see the gallery continue by securing funding. I remember a few long cold nights up in the 5th floor of the Great West Saddlery Building with our accountant Faye Mowers and Michael Bowman before he left sorting out finances. [11]
Helen Gerritzen: When I first got involved with SNAP, and there were all these people like Mike Bowman, Angus Wyatt, Dave LaRiviere, and Marna Bunnell around. They weren’t always thinking print, it was about community. And people just did it, they showed up and volunteered. It was just different times. People weren’t being paid—which is criminal, really—but they were doing it for the love of it. All these events just happened because of a lot of hard work, vision… and the board did the work, which isn’t the answer either… but is it wrong to want to do something for the love of it?
Walter Jule: I remember walking somewhere, probably from Java Jive in HUB, talking to Liz. And I was reminiscing about the print symposium that Louis Ocepek and I had done in Montana, and I remember Liz said ‘well don’t you think we should do one here before we get too old?’ And of course at that moment I felt really old, but I said you know, maybe we can get some funding and so on…
Steven Dixon: And then there was Sightlines…
Marc Siegner: ...and then there was Sightlines.
Liz Ingram: It was absolutely incredible—it was so much work, it just about killed us all, but it was such an exciting project.
Steven Dixon: I think there was the recognition that it was only ever going to happen once, so everything and the kitchen sink was put in there.
Above: Jennifer Dickson among other attendees at the Sightlines conference in the Timms Centre at the University of Alberta, above posters designed by Marna Bunnell, 1997
Desmond Rochfort: Sightlines: Printmaking and Image Culture, as it was called, brought together more than three hundred artists, writers, curators, and critics from eighteen countries to discuss and debate issues concerning the print as an art form and its place in what has become known as the image culture of the late twentieth century. Associated with this symposium was a series of major international exhibitions of printmaking, presented in various locations around Edmonton during the month of October. Those who saw these exhibitions were struck by the extraordinarily diverse nature of contemporary printmaking around the world. [12]
Walter Jule: We had started making connections with printmaking communities outside, our own research had increased, and our own reading, and understanding, and we had people we could collaborate with. So we used that kind of network to think about bringing together people to talk about print. The only thing we asked of any one of the presenters that came to Sightlines was we just want you to talk about what you’re thinking about right now in terms of printmaking. That was it. There wasn’t any overarching theme, that dominates most of those kinds of discussions nowadays. We had an international symposium on this: we wanted to know what people were thinking where they were.
Gary Shaffer: Edmonton considers itself a frontier space, wide open to the free exchange of ideas and practices. Known as the city having the world’s largest indoor shopping mall, this dynamic community also includes the University of Alberta whose Printmaking Division organized and hosted Sightlines—Symposium on Printmaking and Image Culture and who, along with the Society of Northern Alberta Print-artists, participated in organizing the extensive exhibition program networking gallery sites throughout the city. [13]
Pat Prodaniuk: So the printmaking symposium is coming, and SNAP doesn’t have a canopy over their door at the Saddlery Building. I played a little bit of phone tag with… was it Mike? Or maybe it was Ilona? We were playing hit or miss about getting this canopy in time for the symposium. And I said that I’ll make sure there is a canopy—little did I know what I was doing! Because that’s a historical building, so you have to deal with the city, you have to deal with the landlord—he still owned the building and we were just tenants—and this was a very short window, like two weeks! And then you have to find someone who can do it, and on a BUDGET! And I did it.
Desmond Rochfort: Sightlines: Printmaking and Image Culture, as it was called, brought together more than three hundred artists, writers, curators, and critics from eighteen countries to discuss and debate issues concerning the print as an art form and its place in what has become known as the image culture of the late twentieth century. Associated with this symposium was a series of major international exhibitions of printmaking, presented in various locations around Edmonton during the month of October. Those who saw these exhibitions were struck by the extraordinarily diverse nature of contemporary printmaking around the world. [12]
Walter Jule: We had started making connections with printmaking communities outside, our own research had increased, and our own reading, and understanding, and we had people we could collaborate with. So we used that kind of network to think about bringing together people to talk about print. The only thing we asked of any one of the presenters that came to Sightlines was we just want you to talk about what you’re thinking about right now in terms of printmaking. That was it. There wasn’t any overarching theme, that dominates most of those kinds of discussions nowadays. We had an international symposium on this: we wanted to know what people were thinking where they were.
Gary Shaffer: Edmonton considers itself a frontier space, wide open to the free exchange of ideas and practices. Known as the city having the world’s largest indoor shopping mall, this dynamic community also includes the University of Alberta whose Printmaking Division organized and hosted Sightlines—Symposium on Printmaking and Image Culture and who, along with the Society of Northern Alberta Print-artists, participated in organizing the extensive exhibition program networking gallery sites throughout the city. [13]
Pat Prodaniuk: So the printmaking symposium is coming, and SNAP doesn’t have a canopy over their door at the Saddlery Building. I played a little bit of phone tag with… was it Mike? Or maybe it was Ilona? We were playing hit or miss about getting this canopy in time for the symposium. And I said that I’ll make sure there is a canopy—little did I know what I was doing! Because that’s a historical building, so you have to deal with the city, you have to deal with the landlord—he still owned the building and we were just tenants—and this was a very short window, like two weeks! And then you have to find someone who can do it, and on a BUDGET! And I did it.
Above: 1. Pat [DiMarcello] Prodaniuk, Death Amongst Us Brings Renewal, embossment, chine-collé, 1997; 2. David Armstrong, Between Hand & Moon (State 1), lithograph, chine-collé, 2012; 3. Arthur Zajdler, Muzzle Flash, drypoint, chine-collé, 1997; 4. Lisa Murray, Skin Balloon Cloud, screenprint, 2000
Ilona Kennedy: Mike Bowman and I, among many others, worked on the International Printmaking Cooperative Symposium to coincide with the Sightlines conference. We asked the visual communication design class students [at the University of Alberta] to submit entries for the catalogue and were delighted with Sarah Classen and Carey van Eden’s submission, which I do believe won them an award! It is so clever and elegant!
Steven Dixon: Sean Caulfield and I—Sean being a recent graduate at the time and working at SNAP—we made the shortlist for studios to get invitations to participate in that show. I still remember we went to an internet cafe, sat down, and Googled… Google? Lycos-ed, or Open Text-ed, more likely, all of these places, and came up with a list of maybe 15 shops from all around the world we thought might be interested and interesting. And without connections to most of them—we chose shops in Brazil, Australia, Egypt and all these places.
Gary Shaffer: A Canadian jury selected five or six printmakers to represent each of the nine invited print workshops with which they are associated. The International Printmaking Cooperatives Exhibition presented prints from the Australian Print Workshop; the Atelier Piratininga of San Paolo, Brazil; Southen of Egypt; the Association of Estonian Printmakers; the Iceland Graphic Society and Workshop; Tintoretto Venezia of Italy; Printsaurus of Japan; the Edinborough Printmakers of Scotland: and, Kala Institute of Berkeley, California. [14]
Pat Prodaniuk: This was such a cool exhibit. There were two Japanese artists staying at my place, and I didn’t know until literally the day before, because Mike Bowman didn’t know where they were going to stay and I was just happy to offer a bed to international artists. So I ended up housing two Japanese artists, Yuichi Sawada and Norimasa Mizutani. They had pieces at the international printmaking show. Akiko Taniguchi and Noriko Ueda were there too for Thanksgiving, and I made a turkey, and they had never seen a whole turkey.
Maureen Fenniak: The most comprehensive collection of contemporary prints ever to be exhibited in Canada will transform Edmonton into a veritable international centre for print art throughout October. Sightlines […] is a network exhibition of 10 gallery sites situated throughout the city. Over 400 works of print art from 22 countries and four continents make this exhibition truly global in its proportion and perspectives. [15]
Ilona Kennedy: Mike Bowman and I, among many others, worked on the International Printmaking Cooperative Symposium to coincide with the Sightlines conference. We asked the visual communication design class students [at the University of Alberta] to submit entries for the catalogue and were delighted with Sarah Classen and Carey van Eden’s submission, which I do believe won them an award! It is so clever and elegant!
Steven Dixon: Sean Caulfield and I—Sean being a recent graduate at the time and working at SNAP—we made the shortlist for studios to get invitations to participate in that show. I still remember we went to an internet cafe, sat down, and Googled… Google? Lycos-ed, or Open Text-ed, more likely, all of these places, and came up with a list of maybe 15 shops from all around the world we thought might be interested and interesting. And without connections to most of them—we chose shops in Brazil, Australia, Egypt and all these places.
Gary Shaffer: A Canadian jury selected five or six printmakers to represent each of the nine invited print workshops with which they are associated. The International Printmaking Cooperatives Exhibition presented prints from the Australian Print Workshop; the Atelier Piratininga of San Paolo, Brazil; Southen of Egypt; the Association of Estonian Printmakers; the Iceland Graphic Society and Workshop; Tintoretto Venezia of Italy; Printsaurus of Japan; the Edinborough Printmakers of Scotland: and, Kala Institute of Berkeley, California. [14]
Pat Prodaniuk: This was such a cool exhibit. There were two Japanese artists staying at my place, and I didn’t know until literally the day before, because Mike Bowman didn’t know where they were going to stay and I was just happy to offer a bed to international artists. So I ended up housing two Japanese artists, Yuichi Sawada and Norimasa Mizutani. They had pieces at the international printmaking show. Akiko Taniguchi and Noriko Ueda were there too for Thanksgiving, and I made a turkey, and they had never seen a whole turkey.
Maureen Fenniak: The most comprehensive collection of contemporary prints ever to be exhibited in Canada will transform Edmonton into a veritable international centre for print art throughout October. Sightlines […] is a network exhibition of 10 gallery sites situated throughout the city. Over 400 works of print art from 22 countries and four continents make this exhibition truly global in its proportion and perspectives. [15]
Above: Installation of Lines of Site at the Musashino University galleries in Tokyo, with Ryoju Ikeda at centre and Fuki Hamada on stool, 1999; photo by Tanya Harnett
Right: Installation of Lines of Site at the Gulbenkian galleries in London, 1999, with Lyndal Osborne, Walter Jule, and Liz Ingram taking a stretch break; photo by Tanya Harnett |
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Steven Dixon: The shows that we had were amazing. The one in the Armoury Building was one of the better shows I’ve ever seen.
Marc Siegner: The scale of the work, the scale of the show, the presentation…
Walter Jule: Bernd Hildebrandt came up with the idea of these walls, because the Armoury Building didn’t have many walls you could use, so he designed these leaning things we could put stuff on. And also these floor plinths that we could actually look at the large work—we could go up stairs, grab a cup of coffee, and look at down at the work from the balcony. It was very well received. Lawrence Smith [former Keeper of Japanese Antiquities at the British Museum] talks about that show [in his essay published in the catalogue “Lines of Site: Ideas, Forms and Materialities”]:
Lawrence Smith: Prints of compelling force, one or two only by each of 23 artists from 14 countries, were chosen by Walter Jule and shown in a large, high-ceilinged hall. […] The effect was closer to that of an exhibition of painting, where the way the works are arranged relative to the space and to each other can create an almost musical experience for the viewer. As a statement of the success of modern world printmaking, it compelled attention in a way that print exhibitions rarely do, and it is instructive to consider why. The first factor was obviously the excellence of the artists and the works chosen; that quality took, in every case, the form of great intensity. The viewer could feel, as with the best art in any format or technique, the vivid personal experience of the artist […]. One could forget that they were all working in quite different styles and with a wide variety of graphic methods: this breadth, more than anything, seemed to proclaim a world of printmaking which had finally transcended its own doubts. [16]
Robert Enright: Printmakers have a reputation similar to English actors; even when there's no vision, they can always fall back on technique. It's an accusation that can occasionally be thrown at the work in a trio of exhibitions connected to Sightlines, the recent international symposium on printmaking held in Edmonton in early October. But, for the most part, excessive technique was not a tyranny; it's just one of the ways the myriad messages contained in the work get transmitted. [17]
Nora Abercrombie: The nifty thing about prints is the range of effects the artist can conjure through highly technical and mysterious (at least to me) processes. Prints are fun to look at not only because they are beautiful or spooky or whatever. I like to get right up close and try to figure out what is a photo image, what is drawn, what is scraped, what are droplets of water and whether that thingy in the corner is genius or a lucky mistake. [18]
Karen Kunc: “How did you do that?” This is the most common question in the print shop. It recognizes an innate characteristic of the printmakers mentality: a curiosity about technique and process. Nowadays, in the conceptual art world, this seems to be a shameful admission. Effort is made to hide, excuse or redirect this natural inquiry. But the question expresses the print students desire to know the mysterious mixtures, the arcane terminology, the stages and processes of order, how to make surprises. These tools of the trade are the hook often used to tantalize students—to introduce them into the "black arts" of printmaking. [19]
David Garneau: In this moment of multi-, cross- and even anti-disciplinarity, the idea of focusing on a specific medium and its practitioners may seem anachronistic. Contemporary art conferences tend to be thematic, they privilege concepts over materials and practices over disciplines. If a single discipline symposium seems out of step with the current art world, it may be a necessary strategy for maintaining a community and the integrity of a discipline against the fracturing forces of postmodernism. [20]
Diana Nemiroff: The print is, in one sense, very much at odds with the broad image culture. Broad image culture is the inheritor and elaborator of concepts first put forward by conceptual art, which shifted the focus away from the author: i.e. the artist as a holder of personal vision. On each one of these counts printmaking finds itself at odds. Therefore, from this point of view, the position of printmaking is marginal. But in thinking about broad image culture do we mean what is happening in the visual arts at large, or do we mean in the visual environment of our society? If we mean the latter, how would I describe this broad image culture? First, debased; second, clichéd. In particular I believe that this image culture, while ostensibly emphasizing the individual, in fact leaves no room for the innerness of individual experience. [21]
Walter Jule: The role of art and artist in a corporate culture that inoculates against diversity is really a question about culture. How to remain connected to the global village while preserving what is local and specific? [22]
Elizabeth Beauchamp: When the unique qualities possible only through the print processes are coupled with the sophisticated creativity of contemporary artists, some fascinating artworks result. I often think of printmakers as modern-day alchemists, a close-knit group who share the secrets of an artistry so complex that it's only completely understood by those who have it mastered. And for that reason, it largely remains a beautiful mystery to the rest of us. [24]
Helen Gerritzen: Sightlines was just fabulous. I had just finished my undergraduate degree, and that whole summer before grad school I worked as an assistant on Sightlines, with Susan Varga. It was just magical, meeting all of these artists I had learned about as an undergraduate, and there they were standing right in front of you. And then all the exhibitions all over town—to have that as the springboard for your graduate degree? It was amazing.
Marc Siegner: The scale of the work, the scale of the show, the presentation…
Walter Jule: Bernd Hildebrandt came up with the idea of these walls, because the Armoury Building didn’t have many walls you could use, so he designed these leaning things we could put stuff on. And also these floor plinths that we could actually look at the large work—we could go up stairs, grab a cup of coffee, and look at down at the work from the balcony. It was very well received. Lawrence Smith [former Keeper of Japanese Antiquities at the British Museum] talks about that show [in his essay published in the catalogue “Lines of Site: Ideas, Forms and Materialities”]:
Lawrence Smith: Prints of compelling force, one or two only by each of 23 artists from 14 countries, were chosen by Walter Jule and shown in a large, high-ceilinged hall. […] The effect was closer to that of an exhibition of painting, where the way the works are arranged relative to the space and to each other can create an almost musical experience for the viewer. As a statement of the success of modern world printmaking, it compelled attention in a way that print exhibitions rarely do, and it is instructive to consider why. The first factor was obviously the excellence of the artists and the works chosen; that quality took, in every case, the form of great intensity. The viewer could feel, as with the best art in any format or technique, the vivid personal experience of the artist […]. One could forget that they were all working in quite different styles and with a wide variety of graphic methods: this breadth, more than anything, seemed to proclaim a world of printmaking which had finally transcended its own doubts. [16]
Robert Enright: Printmakers have a reputation similar to English actors; even when there's no vision, they can always fall back on technique. It's an accusation that can occasionally be thrown at the work in a trio of exhibitions connected to Sightlines, the recent international symposium on printmaking held in Edmonton in early October. But, for the most part, excessive technique was not a tyranny; it's just one of the ways the myriad messages contained in the work get transmitted. [17]
Nora Abercrombie: The nifty thing about prints is the range of effects the artist can conjure through highly technical and mysterious (at least to me) processes. Prints are fun to look at not only because they are beautiful or spooky or whatever. I like to get right up close and try to figure out what is a photo image, what is drawn, what is scraped, what are droplets of water and whether that thingy in the corner is genius or a lucky mistake. [18]
Karen Kunc: “How did you do that?” This is the most common question in the print shop. It recognizes an innate characteristic of the printmakers mentality: a curiosity about technique and process. Nowadays, in the conceptual art world, this seems to be a shameful admission. Effort is made to hide, excuse or redirect this natural inquiry. But the question expresses the print students desire to know the mysterious mixtures, the arcane terminology, the stages and processes of order, how to make surprises. These tools of the trade are the hook often used to tantalize students—to introduce them into the "black arts" of printmaking. [19]
David Garneau: In this moment of multi-, cross- and even anti-disciplinarity, the idea of focusing on a specific medium and its practitioners may seem anachronistic. Contemporary art conferences tend to be thematic, they privilege concepts over materials and practices over disciplines. If a single discipline symposium seems out of step with the current art world, it may be a necessary strategy for maintaining a community and the integrity of a discipline against the fracturing forces of postmodernism. [20]
Diana Nemiroff: The print is, in one sense, very much at odds with the broad image culture. Broad image culture is the inheritor and elaborator of concepts first put forward by conceptual art, which shifted the focus away from the author: i.e. the artist as a holder of personal vision. On each one of these counts printmaking finds itself at odds. Therefore, from this point of view, the position of printmaking is marginal. But in thinking about broad image culture do we mean what is happening in the visual arts at large, or do we mean in the visual environment of our society? If we mean the latter, how would I describe this broad image culture? First, debased; second, clichéd. In particular I believe that this image culture, while ostensibly emphasizing the individual, in fact leaves no room for the innerness of individual experience. [21]
Walter Jule: The role of art and artist in a corporate culture that inoculates against diversity is really a question about culture. How to remain connected to the global village while preserving what is local and specific? [22]
Elizabeth Beauchamp: When the unique qualities possible only through the print processes are coupled with the sophisticated creativity of contemporary artists, some fascinating artworks result. I often think of printmakers as modern-day alchemists, a close-knit group who share the secrets of an artistry so complex that it's only completely understood by those who have it mastered. And for that reason, it largely remains a beautiful mystery to the rest of us. [24]
Helen Gerritzen: Sightlines was just fabulous. I had just finished my undergraduate degree, and that whole summer before grad school I worked as an assistant on Sightlines, with Susan Varga. It was just magical, meeting all of these artists I had learned about as an undergraduate, and there they were standing right in front of you. And then all the exhibitions all over town—to have that as the springboard for your graduate degree? It was amazing.
Agnieszka Matejko: Artist and teacher Helen Gerritzen has been something of an enigma to me for some time. I often see her breezing past in the narrow hallways of the University Power Plant (where we both teach) looking lost in thought. […] Despite having admired dozens, if not hundreds of her students’ works, I had seen little of her own art. So it was with avid curiosity that I received an invitation to her show entitled trachea and the hero, and other such stories… [24]
Gilbert Bouchard: It's no surprise that Edmonton-based artist […] should settle in on the ancient Greek myth of Daphne as the central inspiration for her print-based show […] given the artist's longtime fascination with dualities and pairings of all literary and visual sorts. [25]
Mary Christa O’Keefe: It ends badly, as most ancient Greek romantic excursions tend to. [26]
Gilbert Bouchard: (in a nutshell: a beautiful nymph when pursued by Apollo prays to Gaea for aid and is promptly transformed into a laurel tree) [27]
Agnieszka Matejko: As we stood talking over these prints, I began to understand a little more about the Gerritzen enigma. As a teacher and as an artist, Gerritzen inspires poetic thought. Like the ancient storytellers, she takes the ordinary stuff around us and transforms it into a living myth. […] For instance, she is the proud owner of a pair of circular door ornaments that once adorned a turn of the century entranceway and ones she says look like breasts. She has a pair of old wall brackets, sieves, candle moulds, baking cones, to just name a few of the curiosities. She keeps these objects for months, sometimes years, and in moments of inspiration uses them to create her drawings or prints. Sometimes she familiarizes herself with these objects from the inside out by casting the cavities in gelatine. (A habit that, she says, occasionally startles her husband, who innocently reaches into the fridge and instead of cheese finds strange casts of gelatine.) [28]
Gilbert Bouchard: Ultimately the full elegance of Gerritzen's work is its ability to stay focused on the power of interpretive openness incarnated by metaphysically intriguing moments of transformation and emotional/physical turmoil. While this work handily forces the issues of mind-body gap and the contradictions written into the tension between knowledge and experience, it does so in a way that is deeply satisfying and oddly reassuring on aesthetic and metaphysical levels. [29]
Helen Gerritzen: I became SNAP’s director of programming, so I put up a lot of shows at the Great West Saddlery Building. After Angus left, Shelley Wilson became the executive director, and her and her husband were kind of a team. She was the only employee, but he would help set up because he had a background in exhibitions. Shelley and I worked a lot together, and we realized that there were all these prints that had been part of the newsletter print program—it was a really stellar program, there were amazing people who had made prints. Around Christmas time, we said why don’t we put all these prints up in a grid on the wall? We did a little bit of advertising… I think we made 500 bucks? We looked at each other, and thought people want this. The next year I created the ‘Perfect Print Affair,’ and I somehow convinced everybody to come in—Dan Bagan brought in a whole bunch of frames, we brought a whole bunch of work in. We started in the morning, and we had a latte machine, and we had people in the back—Sean and Akiko, everybody was there, everyone on the board—and people would come in and and say they wanted this print in that frame, and then we’d take it and we’d frame it in the back room for them and then hand it to them—people loved that. We made $10,000 that one morning. I’m particularly proud of that.
Sean Caulfield: It was a period of a particular boom in Alberta’s economic boom-and-bust cycle. So kind of feeling this explosion of spending and growth and big pick-up trucks… but at the same time, sensing that while we were getting some investment in the arts, it was not the kind of investment that could be happening. And then of course knowing deep in your mind that it wasn’t going to last, and that we were really going to be in trouble. In my time here [since returning to Edmonton from the United States in 2001, to teach at the University of Alberta], it has mostly been a slide, economically. Therefore, having to make decisions in this art community, the stakes are so high, you can’t take as many chances. One of the big problems is when you’re given just a little crumb, the pressure to make that crumb into a pie is so great, and almost impossible, you inevitably make some mistakes.
Gilbert Bouchard: It's no surprise that Edmonton-based artist […] should settle in on the ancient Greek myth of Daphne as the central inspiration for her print-based show […] given the artist's longtime fascination with dualities and pairings of all literary and visual sorts. [25]
Mary Christa O’Keefe: It ends badly, as most ancient Greek romantic excursions tend to. [26]
Gilbert Bouchard: (in a nutshell: a beautiful nymph when pursued by Apollo prays to Gaea for aid and is promptly transformed into a laurel tree) [27]
Agnieszka Matejko: As we stood talking over these prints, I began to understand a little more about the Gerritzen enigma. As a teacher and as an artist, Gerritzen inspires poetic thought. Like the ancient storytellers, she takes the ordinary stuff around us and transforms it into a living myth. […] For instance, she is the proud owner of a pair of circular door ornaments that once adorned a turn of the century entranceway and ones she says look like breasts. She has a pair of old wall brackets, sieves, candle moulds, baking cones, to just name a few of the curiosities. She keeps these objects for months, sometimes years, and in moments of inspiration uses them to create her drawings or prints. Sometimes she familiarizes herself with these objects from the inside out by casting the cavities in gelatine. (A habit that, she says, occasionally startles her husband, who innocently reaches into the fridge and instead of cheese finds strange casts of gelatine.) [28]
Gilbert Bouchard: Ultimately the full elegance of Gerritzen's work is its ability to stay focused on the power of interpretive openness incarnated by metaphysically intriguing moments of transformation and emotional/physical turmoil. While this work handily forces the issues of mind-body gap and the contradictions written into the tension between knowledge and experience, it does so in a way that is deeply satisfying and oddly reassuring on aesthetic and metaphysical levels. [29]
Helen Gerritzen: I became SNAP’s director of programming, so I put up a lot of shows at the Great West Saddlery Building. After Angus left, Shelley Wilson became the executive director, and her and her husband were kind of a team. She was the only employee, but he would help set up because he had a background in exhibitions. Shelley and I worked a lot together, and we realized that there were all these prints that had been part of the newsletter print program—it was a really stellar program, there were amazing people who had made prints. Around Christmas time, we said why don’t we put all these prints up in a grid on the wall? We did a little bit of advertising… I think we made 500 bucks? We looked at each other, and thought people want this. The next year I created the ‘Perfect Print Affair,’ and I somehow convinced everybody to come in—Dan Bagan brought in a whole bunch of frames, we brought a whole bunch of work in. We started in the morning, and we had a latte machine, and we had people in the back—Sean and Akiko, everybody was there, everyone on the board—and people would come in and and say they wanted this print in that frame, and then we’d take it and we’d frame it in the back room for them and then hand it to them—people loved that. We made $10,000 that one morning. I’m particularly proud of that.
Sean Caulfield: It was a period of a particular boom in Alberta’s economic boom-and-bust cycle. So kind of feeling this explosion of spending and growth and big pick-up trucks… but at the same time, sensing that while we were getting some investment in the arts, it was not the kind of investment that could be happening. And then of course knowing deep in your mind that it wasn’t going to last, and that we were really going to be in trouble. In my time here [since returning to Edmonton from the United States in 2001, to teach at the University of Alberta], it has mostly been a slide, economically. Therefore, having to make decisions in this art community, the stakes are so high, you can’t take as many chances. One of the big problems is when you’re given just a little crumb, the pressure to make that crumb into a pie is so great, and almost impossible, you inevitably make some mistakes.
Above: Sean Caulfield, Found Anatomies: Transition Zone, intaglio on gampi mounted to panel, 2022
Joan Greer: The past and the future collide in [Caulfield’s] nightmarish envisionings of ecological wastelands. Here, industry and natural environments come together. We are confronted with the imagined consequences of human interventions upon larger ecosystems with oil extraction being the leitmotif. The result is environmental Armageddon. And yet, within these images there is also a suggestion of something primordial and enduring; the possibility of new beginnings; something—at first amorphous and unknowable—starting to arise and take shape. [30]
Sean Caulfield: I was thinking about the way that space had been so flattened in medieval art, when they were just starting to think about perspective, and the weird flips that were going on in the work because of that. On the one hand you could see that as a technical struggle, but on the other hand, you could see it more philosophically, or allegorically, as a metaphor for understanding. So this idea of perspective and how much we impose, and is imposed on us, is a recurring question. Maybe this newer work is a return to a more introverted place. And it worries me on some levels, if my response is to turn away—I don’t think that’s what I mean that I’m doing, but I think that’s a danger. Other artists have been successful turning inward and making art that’s very transformative. During the whole covid crisis, for instance, I didn’t find myself turning to activist artists, I found myself turning to Arvo Pärt and minimalist composers and very introspective medieval art.
Arvo Pärt: In my dark hours, I have the certain feeling that everything outside this one thing has no meaning. The complex and many-faceted only confuses me, and I must search for unity. What is it, this one thing, and how do I find my way to it? Traces of this perfect thing appear in many guises—and everything that is unimportant falls away. [31]
Sean Caulfield: Now I don’t want to suggest that’s always the answer…
Luke Johnson: Well, given what was going on when they were making that medieval art, what with the plague and all that, it is clearly an answer that comes from pretty deep inside of us.
Sean Caulfield: Yeah, that’s sort of what I mean. I was on a PhD defence recently, listening to someone who was critical of introspective art because it didn’t address the critical, political needs of various groups. But if all of our art is about a means to an end, isn’t it really just a repetition of the colonial problem anyway? So we have to have outlets that are introspective. I don’t know, maybe I’m justifying my own retreat… does that make sense?
Sky Gooden: Caulfield leaves clues suggesting that from ashen soil new subjects spring. He has potted plants, stubborn trees and roots within his smoke, nature sprouting from unlikely pedestals amid a landscape of decay. Even the fire in places takes on the quality of focused energy, of light. [32]
Joan Greer: The past and the future collide in [Caulfield’s] nightmarish envisionings of ecological wastelands. Here, industry and natural environments come together. We are confronted with the imagined consequences of human interventions upon larger ecosystems with oil extraction being the leitmotif. The result is environmental Armageddon. And yet, within these images there is also a suggestion of something primordial and enduring; the possibility of new beginnings; something—at first amorphous and unknowable—starting to arise and take shape. [30]
Sean Caulfield: I was thinking about the way that space had been so flattened in medieval art, when they were just starting to think about perspective, and the weird flips that were going on in the work because of that. On the one hand you could see that as a technical struggle, but on the other hand, you could see it more philosophically, or allegorically, as a metaphor for understanding. So this idea of perspective and how much we impose, and is imposed on us, is a recurring question. Maybe this newer work is a return to a more introverted place. And it worries me on some levels, if my response is to turn away—I don’t think that’s what I mean that I’m doing, but I think that’s a danger. Other artists have been successful turning inward and making art that’s very transformative. During the whole covid crisis, for instance, I didn’t find myself turning to activist artists, I found myself turning to Arvo Pärt and minimalist composers and very introspective medieval art.
Arvo Pärt: In my dark hours, I have the certain feeling that everything outside this one thing has no meaning. The complex and many-faceted only confuses me, and I must search for unity. What is it, this one thing, and how do I find my way to it? Traces of this perfect thing appear in many guises—and everything that is unimportant falls away. [31]
Sean Caulfield: Now I don’t want to suggest that’s always the answer…
Luke Johnson: Well, given what was going on when they were making that medieval art, what with the plague and all that, it is clearly an answer that comes from pretty deep inside of us.
Sean Caulfield: Yeah, that’s sort of what I mean. I was on a PhD defence recently, listening to someone who was critical of introspective art because it didn’t address the critical, political needs of various groups. But if all of our art is about a means to an end, isn’t it really just a repetition of the colonial problem anyway? So we have to have outlets that are introspective. I don’t know, maybe I’m justifying my own retreat… does that make sense?
Sky Gooden: Caulfield leaves clues suggesting that from ashen soil new subjects spring. He has potted plants, stubborn trees and roots within his smoke, nature sprouting from unlikely pedestals amid a landscape of decay. Even the fire in places takes on the quality of focused energy, of light. [32]
Above: Holly Sykora, etching, relief, 2007
Holly Sykora: Sean Caulfield had us read this Kafka story [In the Penal Colony] in the ‘Word and Image’ class, about a prisoner being killed slowly using a bed of nails that would carve these images into his body. I started making these repetitive scratch marks on a copper plate and I found sitting there, making these little marks with the etching tool feels really good—I have had panic attacks on and off throughout my life, but I didn’t feel anxious when I made these marks. The marks became really important, and it allowed me a simple way to create an image, but allowing me to create that image through process. Making the marks became a meditation. Interestingly enough, after my time at SNAP I went back to school and got a nursing degree and work in paediatric oncology. I have a tattoo of some of those marks. And the kids see my tattoo and ask two things: ‘is that how many days you’ve been in prison?’ And the second question is ‘is that how many kids have died while you’ve been working?’ Because kids die there, right? And it’s so interesting to me that an eight year old is thinking about that, but it kind of makes sense with where the image comes from.
Caitlin Wells: I like that tension, trapping all of this time in a print, because of course there’s the subject, this natural thing turning from one state into another state, into another state, into another, and I’m pressing pause, for a moment. I’m noticing things on walks or in the garden—natural phenomena, processes of flux—like seeds, plants in bloom, or metamorphosing, or desiccating. Then there’s all the hours of drawing it into the ground, etching it, working it, testing it, printing it, and so on. But it’s all so fleeting—the subject continues to evolve and dry out and become a new thing, and the plate gets scratched and worn. At an undergraduate level my thoughts were about poetic, philosophical transience—an awareness of how quickly time was moving, and what do we do with our one, beautiful life? And that evolved to have more and more concerns about climate change and understanding scarcity more, and that things we were taught would be inexhaustible are not if we keep expanding at our rapacious rate. I think if we all paid a little more attention to natural phenomenon and processes, maybe we, as a species, might be a little more thoughtful about our impact on those cycles. I definitely am so grateful for the lenses they’ve given me—Walter Jule, and Liz Ingram, and Sean Caulfield, and Lyndal Osborne—so that even in times when I might not be in the studio as much, I still get to view the world through those lenses that they helped craft. The world is a much more interesting place to look at as a result.
Holly Sykora: Sean Caulfield had us read this Kafka story [In the Penal Colony] in the ‘Word and Image’ class, about a prisoner being killed slowly using a bed of nails that would carve these images into his body. I started making these repetitive scratch marks on a copper plate and I found sitting there, making these little marks with the etching tool feels really good—I have had panic attacks on and off throughout my life, but I didn’t feel anxious when I made these marks. The marks became really important, and it allowed me a simple way to create an image, but allowing me to create that image through process. Making the marks became a meditation. Interestingly enough, after my time at SNAP I went back to school and got a nursing degree and work in paediatric oncology. I have a tattoo of some of those marks. And the kids see my tattoo and ask two things: ‘is that how many days you’ve been in prison?’ And the second question is ‘is that how many kids have died while you’ve been working?’ Because kids die there, right? And it’s so interesting to me that an eight year old is thinking about that, but it kind of makes sense with where the image comes from.
Caitlin Wells: I like that tension, trapping all of this time in a print, because of course there’s the subject, this natural thing turning from one state into another state, into another state, into another, and I’m pressing pause, for a moment. I’m noticing things on walks or in the garden—natural phenomena, processes of flux—like seeds, plants in bloom, or metamorphosing, or desiccating. Then there’s all the hours of drawing it into the ground, etching it, working it, testing it, printing it, and so on. But it’s all so fleeting—the subject continues to evolve and dry out and become a new thing, and the plate gets scratched and worn. At an undergraduate level my thoughts were about poetic, philosophical transience—an awareness of how quickly time was moving, and what do we do with our one, beautiful life? And that evolved to have more and more concerns about climate change and understanding scarcity more, and that things we were taught would be inexhaustible are not if we keep expanding at our rapacious rate. I think if we all paid a little more attention to natural phenomenon and processes, maybe we, as a species, might be a little more thoughtful about our impact on those cycles. I definitely am so grateful for the lenses they’ve given me—Walter Jule, and Liz Ingram, and Sean Caulfield, and Lyndal Osborne—so that even in times when I might not be in the studio as much, I still get to view the world through those lenses that they helped craft. The world is a much more interesting place to look at as a result.
Above: Caitlin Wells, Hypothesis 1, etching, inkjet, chine-collé, 2013
continue to part six...
***
Footnotes, part 5:
[1] Mike Bowman, “President’s Report,” 1996, SNAP archive.
[2] Angus Wyatt, (seven.80), December 1999, 3.
[3] David LaRivere, “Gallery Snappets,” (seven.80), September 1999, 9.
[4] Angus Wyatt, (seven.80), December 1999, 2.
[5] Ilona Kennedy, “Templars’ Dreams I,” in SNAP Newsletter, September 1996, 1-2.
[6] SNAP’s Fifteenth Anniversary Portfolio, 1997.
[7] Mike Bowman, “President’s Report,” 1996, SNAP archive.
[8] 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
[9] References to the “½ Studio Gallery” on the fourth floor of the Great West Saddlery Building appear to refer to this space, which is listed as being operational from the fall of 1984 through April 1986 in a resume of SNAP member Dana Rae Shukster, who lists herself as a partner in this gallery. Shows noted as occurring in the space include the exhibits of Polish poster art and solo exhibition of Katsunori Hamanishi mezzotints Yates describes, as well as “Contemporary Polish Prints” (noted in a catalogue of the artist Jerzy Jędrysiak) and “Recent Edmonton Prints” (or “Edmonton Printmakers”) in 1986 (noted in the CVs of Mary Joyce and Sandra Rechico).
[10] Earl McKenzie, statement for Looking In & Looking Back: Works and Reflections by SNAP Presidents, 2012.
[11] Michelle LaVoie, statement for Looking In & Looking Back: Works and Reflections by SNAP Presidents, 2012.
[12] Desmond Rochfort, “Introduction,” in Lines of Site: Ideas, Forms and Materialities (Edmonton: University of Alberta Press, 1999) 7.
[13] Gary Shaffer, ‘Sightlines: International Symposium on Printmaking Presented in Canada,’ in California Printmaker, May 1998, 6.
[14] Ibid., 7.
[15] Maureen Fenniak, “Print-art Birthday Goes Wild,” See Magazine, October 2-8, 1997, 6.
[16] Lawrence Smith, “Printmaking in Three Continents: A Question of Horizons,” in Lines of Site: Ideas, Forms and Materialities (Edmonton: University of Alberta Press, 1999) 14.
[17] Robert Enright, “Show reveals new adventures in printmaking,” The Globe and Mail, October 16, 1997, A13.
[18] Nora Abercrombie, “Visual Arts,” Vue Weekly, October 16, 1997, 25.
[19] Karen Kunc, “Teaching Printmaking: An American View,” in Sightlines (Edmonton: University of Alberta Press, 1997) 194.
[20] David Garneau, “Sightlined Impressions,” BorderCrossings, Winter 1998, 54.
[21] Diana Nemiroff, in Jennifer Dickson, “Observations on the Contemporary Print in Canada, 1972-1997,” in Sightlines (Edmonton: University of Alberta Press, 1997) 125.
[22] Walter Jule, quoted in Maureen Fenniak, “Print-art Birthday Goes Wild,” See Magazine, October 2-8, 1997, 6.
[23] Elizabeth Beauchamp, “Artists are Doing More for Less,” Edmonton Journal, September 13, 1991, C5.
[24] Agnieszka Matejko,”Gerritzen branches out with trachea and the hero,” Vue Weekly, August 31, 2006, 18.
[25] Gilbert Bouchard, Helen Gerritzen: trachea and the hero, and other such stories… (Toronto: Open Studio, 2007) unpaginated.
[26] Mary Christa O’Keefe, “Heroic Measures,” See Magazine, August 31, 2006, 14.
[27] Gilbert Bouchard, Helen Gerritzen: trachea and the hero, and other such stories… (Toronto: Open Studio, 2007) unpaginated.
[28] Agnieszka Matejko,”Gerritzen branches out with trachea and the hero,” Vue Weekly, August 31, 2006, 18.
[29] Gilbert Bouchard, Helen Gerritzen: trachea and the hero, and other such stories… (Toronto: Open Studio, 2007) unpaginated.
[30] Joan Greer, “Our Only Home: Printmaking in the Anthropocene,” in Printmaking in the Anthropocene (Edmonton: University of Alberta Department of Art and Design, 2018) 14.
[31] Arvo Pärt, quoted by Richard E. Rodda, liner notes for Arvo Pärt, Frateres, I Fiamminghi, The Orchestra of Flanders, Rudolf Werthen, (Telarc CD-80387), quoted in a 2016 capture of Arvo Pärt’s website, accessed via: archive.org/web/20161011155612/http://www.arvopart.org/tintinnabulation.html
[32] Sky Gooden, ‘The Reckoning in Sean Caulfield’s The Flood,’ in Sean Caulfield: The Flood (Edmonton: Art Gallery of Alberta, 2016) 16-17.
