An art exhibit in the Great Hall at Union Station, January 16 to January 23
I’m going to out on a limb a bit here and say like most contemporary or modern art, this exhibit was combination of some shoddily thrown together nonsense and some well executed and interesting pieces.
One of the things that caught my attention was how people reacted and/or interacted with the different parts of the exhibit. Union Station is not an art destination. It’s a space that people walk through on their way to somewhere else.
In the above photo, the women are using a computer monitor to learn about The Legacy of Joseph Wagenbach, an installation by Iris Haussler. In 2006 she turned a house on Robinson St. in Toronto into a ‘discovered’ home of a reclusive older man who had filled his house with over 100 sculptures that he had made. At that time there was some controversy when people learned that there was no real Joseph Wagenbach, that his story was fiction. There is a Joseph Wagenbach Foundation with its own website.
Some of the Joseph Wagenbach sculptures.
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‘Marbled Meanings’ by Navid Nuur.
top right: ‘Broken Diamond’ made of neon, broken glass, argon neon blue light.
center: ‘Threshold’ made of green florist foam blocks
With the above collection, I found that the light and shadows were more interesting than the green column. I don’t know whether or not this was an intentional part of the exhibit.
close up of ‘Broken Diamond’
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“I’m going to use the two hundred dollar artist fee from this project to pay my phone bill and with the money left over I’ll probably buy a pack of smokes and maybe order some Chinese food.”
Is this a statement about the value of art? Is this a f*ck you statement – if you, or society, don’t value art why should I (as the artist) care about my work?
Floating overhead and watching us with yellow eyes.
reflections
I know that art is subjective but I fail to see the appeal in large monochromatic pictures in an ugly shade of green. They aren’t profound; they’re not making a statement; they elicit no emotion.
The projector is playing a loop of blank screen to a garbled soundtrack.
I couldn’t help but chuckle at the juxtaposition of the arty porta-potty and the real trash container behind it. Someone tried to open the door of the potty but it was either locked or not real. Note to artist: Why?
as I walk Toronto 