Al Gervais has been learning the principals of photography for a little over 8 years.  His learning has been self directed and not institutionalized.  He is inspired by innovation and strives to make what he does the best it can be.

He believes photography as art is experiencing continuous change which he thinks is fantastic.  He states, the roll of a photographer has historically been to  document or “report what they see”, but the world of digital media opens up all kinds of possibilities for a photographer to play and express their thoughts even further. “At a minimum, art (including photography), should provide viewers  with a break from the daily grind and allow them to at least momentarily unwind.  A loftier goal is to have the audience walk away better for the encounter, meaning anything from a refreshed state of mind to a better understanding of a subject or even a change in philosophy.” says Al.

When it comes to the subject of his photography versus the way the photograph is executed, Al feels a photographer needs to pay attention to both. He believes a great finished product requires a subject that has the potential to invoke a mood or thought that the  viewer can connect with and so, execution of that concept by way of intriguing camera angle, deliberate lighting, appropriate post processing and even correct selection of paper type for the final print are integral to pulling the audience into the scene.

Al executes his finished product with the initial photographs are captured either in field or a studio type setup and if changes are necessary  to match what is captured in the camera with my original vision they then occur at then end of a computer mouse.  When Al is taking the picture, that part is life.  He believes if the photograph matches his interpretation of what that encounter means to me then he is finished,  if  not then he continues further.  He strives to represent the mood and reflection felt when he was there.  If a gap between the photograph and his imagination needs to be filled, then he fills that gap with tools like photoshop.

To view Al’s work visit:
SmugMug
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Due to the overwhelming success of the Wearable Art Show at the Centre for Creative Arts last fall, this year there will be two showings. This is a good thing, since I don’t think anyone who was there last year will want to miss it, and I’m sure they’ve told their friends about the unique creations on the runway.

Does a Skylin Herba gown constructed from old computer parts, or a Debbie Courvoisier clay tile mini-dress beg the question: what are these artists thinking? Perhaps it’s that we sometimes take art and fashion too seriously.

There are times when we have to dress a certain way (though they are becoming rarer) and artworks that can only be viewed with gravity. But a Lori Kolacz frock made of twisted balloons, ain’t that a kick in the culottes! In a take on fashion that is not so wearable but still a comment on style, our featured artist this issue Candace Gunsolley has made an elegant statement by reusing the  pages of fashion magazines.

Repurposing of materials is also a main feature in cover artist, Jenn Bowes’ pieces. Hour upon hours spent reworking books into a surreal fabric merge her meticulous process with materials that we often overlook. This artist lets the pages tell a tale of their own.

Three of a Kind artist, Ashley Lett, also a presenter at the Wearable Art Show, is a dedicated repurposer – pirating anything that she can make into something “flashy and fashionable”. Shannon Fennel’s wearable art is applied directly to the body and its temporary nature thrills her. Her medium is a living person and fashion just can’t get fresher than that. Following the tradition of her ancestors, Hazel Robinson turns moose hide into art. Hazel creates works that demonstrate how long we humans have had the desire to shine in a piece of unique apparel.

I hope you find this issue inspiring; remember, you are your own work of art.

2011 marked the third year Grande Prairie participated in Alberta Arts Days. Winding down this year’s festival on October 1st, the Centre for Creative Arts hosted its highly anticipated second annual Wearable Arts Show. By popular demand, they held it twice in one night.

This hugely popular, high-energy exhibition encourages local artists and onlookers to explore our relationships with art, fashion, identity, and culture. On the dramatically lit catwalk, clothing becomes a tool for expression and a dynamic piece of art. Using the body as a canvas, it conveys a message, an emotion, or a concept. It compels us to stop and wonder.

Beweave It or Not, Lori Kolacz

It is this sense of marvel that Lori Kolacz hopes she instilled with her fabric-free piece, Beweave it or Not, a short, retro-styled dress woven entirely from over 140 pastel blue and pearly white latex balloons.
Through “twisting”, the art of balloon sculpting, Kolacz satisfies her desire to share joy, laughter, and beauty in every day and to celebrate the transitory quality of life. “In that way,” she explains, “balloons aren’t just for kids.”

A large but often under-appreciated aspect of twisting is the inherently short lifespan of each sculpture. Kolacz’s dress, for example, took six hours to make on the morning of the event to ensure it looked “fresh” for its runway debut. By the next morning, the dress was a deflated shadow of its former self. At once fun, whimsical, and light, Kolacz’s “pop art” Beweave it or Not subtly and generously reminds us to savour every moment.

Some artists presented in the show use things we look at every day but don’t see as fashion. With her post-apocalyptic inspired hoop skirt and bikini called Silicon Beach, artist Skylin Herba takes this one step further by making her outfit of used circuit boards – objects that we not only don’t see as fashion, but that we typically don’t see at all.

Bringing awareness to planned obsolescence and e-waste is a predominant goal Herba explores in this outfit. “Parts of it were created by tearing apart an iBook,” she shares, “I spent so much money on it just a few years ago!” Bits of old DVD players, ceiling hardware, aluminum tape, and coated telephone wire are also built into this piece.

Cloaked in Midnight, Niki Sangra

“It’s not that I want to villainize technology…” Herba continues, “It just makes sense to prioritize our purchases; to not stress so much about having the newest thing out there. Treat what you have well, and try to give it a second life.”

One of the most striking contrasts between conventional fashion and wearable art is the way each acts as an extension of self. Alex, a founder of the highly successful online blog, Fashionartisan, says “You cannot talk about fashion without relating it to the kind of life a person lives.” Wearable art, however, pays no heed to the demands of day to day life. Its currency isn’t determined by brand name or functionality, but a higher level of creative freedom that stimulates our fantasies, fears, and curiosity.

For Niki Sangra, the visionary behind bringing a wearable art event to the centre, this sense of diversity and inclusiveness is what compels her to create wearable art. She draws comparisons between the event and Halloween “where everyone’s given permission to be who they want.”

Reminiscent of a costume worn to a masquerade ball, Sangra’s creation, Cloaked in Midnight, shrouds the wearer in a surprisingly heavy black cape covered in rows upon rows of rustling, hand-made fabric feathers. A simple, form fitting dress in the same colour is worn underneath. Sangra spent months silversmithing an intricate bird-like mask and a glimmering layered necklace that add a magical and mysterious air to her piece. “Contrasting a more static art like painting,” she explains, “wearable art changes every time you move. It lets what’s inside come out… You have to move to it.”

Silicon Beach, Skylin Herba

Few genres can cross and mix so much content with such intrigue and accessibility as wearable art. It shows what popular fashion typically ignores: Beauty has no one-dimensional standard.
If you have any questions about wearable art or about how you can get involved with the show next year, contact the Centre for Creative Arts at 780-814-6080 or info@creativecentre.ca. You can also view video footage of the event at creativecentre.ca.

by Jody Farrell

The annual Art of the Peace Symposium has a reputation for giving creative souls everywhere a healthy
dose of motivation just as those darker months set in. The weekend-long event, which runs from
October 14-16, 2011, in Dawson Creek, BC, is full of mind-expanding talks, images, and hands-on work. Its
presenters are all heavily immersed in the visual arts, and no one walks away without feeling moved at
some level. This year’s speakers include Calgary artists Carl White and Shona Rae, and Dawson Creek-based
artist Jennifer Bowes.

A Name For Your Sea, Carl White

CARL WHITE was born in England and lives and works in Calgary, Alberta, where he graduated from Alberta College of Art and Design (Four Year Diploma in graphic design, painting, and drawing) in 1992.

His paintings, which have been shown in many group and solo exhibitions over the last 19 years, are richly layered and drawn from a wide range of interests. White’s father introduced him to the work of masters such as Rembrandt, instilling an understanding of light and shadows prominent in White’s own luminous works. He credits literature and music of every kind, and even earlier years of skateboarding, with having influenced his art.

In a May 2011 review of his recent exhibition Istoria, writer Marcella Ducasses comments on how White’s highly vivid,historically-driven imagery, still manages to be authentic and fresh:

“Despite the rich allegorical and historical references, White’s work is unmistakably contemporary in its execution. The subject matter may evoke painters of another era, but his expressive brushstrokes, spontaneous and at times violent splashes of exuberant colours, glossy finishes and drips of paint left to their own devices, along with his signature scriptural markings, are White’s — and White’s alone,” Ducasses writes.

“I am interested almost entirely in the process, the act of creation and joining the flow,” White says today. “The work itself is the residue, the dust, the skin that has been shed. I am deeply contradictory in that I often begin in an intellectual pursuit only to try wholeheartedly to break free of it once the painting begins.”

Beauty, Shona Rae

SHONA RAE graduated from The Aberta College of Art and Design with a BFA in 2005. Ten years prior to receiving that degree, the ceramist of 30 years had become enthralled with goldsmithing, a fascination brought on by a series of dreams that led to a new perception that “metal is clay.”

Throughout the winter of 1994-95, night after night, Rae dreamed of hammering metal. Her work had always been inspired by her keen interest in ancient myth, religion and prehistoric archaeological finds. Now, in addition to her already substantial knowledge and mastery of clay, Rae chose to study metals to better render the visions she’d had in those dreams. Her sculptural art jewellery has since won her numerous awards in both Europe and North America.

“I want to celebrate the human inclination to decorate our person and our environment with contemporary artifacts,” Rae says today. She forges, casts, carves and constructs precious metals, sterling silver, gold, and other materials, into symbols re-imagined from imagery found in archeology, mythology and folklore.

Rae’s presentation for the 2011 AOTP Symposium will feature 22 sculptures she has been working on since 1998. These works, entitled Fairy-tales, Folklore and Mythcommunication… include a series of miniature, precious metal sculptures that reference rings and draw the viewer into the story on a conceptual and intimate level, Rae says.

“My lifelong fascination and study of fairy-tales, folklore, religion, myth and Jungian philosophy is the major influence in my artwork. I believe that in our urge to tell stories we seek to give order and meaning to our lives, explain natural phenomena, the complexities of life, (…) the human condition.”

Dream of Scipio, Jennifer Bowes

JENNIFER BOWES is an Alberta-born artist and graduate of the University of Alberta (BFA, 1999; MFA 2003). She has taught at both the U of A and Grande Prairie’s Regional College and currently teaches at Northern Lights College in Dawson Creek.

At the Symposium, Bowes will be covering her works over the last decade, beginning with those related to her masters thesis, in which she argued that a drawing can be made using only texture and shadow, with media other than the usual drawing tools. Her fibre and paper sculptures feature meticulously knotted, knitted, or handsewn work, and speak volumes about the artist’s quiet dedication and resolve.

Her most recent creations have Bowes imposing these repetitious techniques onto paper and then removing them. The final product features what has been left behind. “My work tends to be painstaking and labourious,” she explains. Bowes also spent time in the mountains of Field, BC, and in the Italian Alps, where her surroundings sometimes left her feeling overwhelmed. She wanted to capture this sense of awe in her art, which she sees as being both reactive and expressive. Hundreds of hours of small, quiet, repeated gestures produce an artwork whose “silent voice becomes very present,” Bowes says.

Artist and colleague Sarah Alford says Bowes’ decade of teaching has developed an unmatched devotion to both the program she undertakes and the students she prepares.

“I’ve never met anyone who works so hard,” Alford remarks. “I would even say the (Northern Lights) College itself may have underestimated Jenn’s ambition.”

Bowes is responsible for initiating a visual culture program aimed at preparing students to critically evaluate their own visual production and the visual environment that surrounds them. Alford says these new courses put Dawson Creek “in line with programs in Canada’s major art colleges and universities.”

by Margaret Price

For a moment we sit in silence as Jennifer Bowes ruminates on my question.

Undoubtedly, she is asked one like it quite often. After all, when one has produced such abstract and visually stimulating work as Bowes has, others become inquisitive, probing into the landscape of the creative. What are your biggest inspirations and influences? What medium do you gravitate towards? How do you describe your approach to art?

Today, the question is modest, inherent: “Why are you an artist?”

After a few moments of quiet reflection, Bowes replies, in standard form, with an acute awareness of herself and her work and the cognitive processes behind both, her vocal presence at once soft spoken and commanding, deliberate yet effortless.
“Everyone asks why I do what I do and I answer that I just feel compelled to do it,” she says. “A lot of people say I’m compulsive but that’s not true because I choose to do this. Compulsion is when you don’t choose. I just need to do that repetitive behavior.”

It is this repetition that informs and defines Bowes’ work; work that is most assuredly process-driven. Each gesture, no matter how small, is significant, quietly imbued with reiteration and slight variation, capturing a moment, thought or silent pause. Through repetition, Bowes reaches a sort of contemplative, trancendental and grounding state; a state of recognition and awareness, a state balancing delicately between two experiences of time, an active moment and an extended period.

Ski Tracks, Inspiration for In Silence

As with many Peace Region artists, Bowes is influenced by her physical environment and draws upon memories of her childhood landscape. When not at school, Bowes would escape to the mountains for four months out of the year to work on an organic farm. It was here that she first became acquainted with the process of repetition that would define much of her later work. Then: plowing, sowing, planting, walking, hiking, breathing – now: knotting, knitting, carving, marking, stitching – perpetual movement attempting to achieve, in the artist’s own words, a balance between control and chance.

More recently, Bowes cites travel as being influential to her life and work. After graduating from the University of Alberta with a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree in Painting and Drawing, Bowes spent a year teaching English in northern Italy in the small town of Sondrio. It was here that Bowes transitioned from figurative art to abstraction, taking a keen interest in textures and printmaking. Amongst the stunning, towering, textural aged wall reliefs and architectural motifs that almost seemed to have voices, Bowes became interested in the fact that, within each work, there exists a duality of both silence and vocality. “I found that trying to find voices within silence was really influential to my work, and trying to bring that into the work where the piece I was making had a voice of its own and didn’t necessarily need me to be there to explain it.”

In Silence Companion Piece Detail

Perhaps this duality is best illustrated in The Dream of Scipio, one work in a series Bowes completed for her MFA Thesis Exhibition. In a sort of collaboration with the writer, Bowes took a book with hundreds of pages and, using white thread, ran a double stitch over every letter of the book, inflicting an element of illegibility and forcing the viewer to approach the work in a different way. Instead of perceiving the work with our minds, we perceive the work tactually, with our hands. “It’s a book of hundreds of thousands of stitches,” she says. “I was trying to impose silence on the book so that you could put your own thoughts into it because I find when I hold a book, I’m not necessarily interested in the text itself but the presence of the book.” The resulting piece, more than just an amalgamation of meaningless alterations, is a record of the touch and intent of the creator, impregnated with the opinions and emotions with which the material was altered, thus serving as a container for thought. “Even though you couldn’t read the words of the book, the voice was still there and the reference of the book was still there.” Sometimes, through silence, we hear the loudest voice.

Another work illustrating Bowes’ awareness of and reverence for stillness is In Silence, a sewn paper piece inspired by her work on the organic farm. As part of her job, Bowes learned how to drive horses, becoming interested in the resulting furrows in the soil. In the winter, Bowes would replicate those furrows by skiing parallel lines into the field and she responded to her environment by bringing those lines back into the studio. “In the morning I would ski in the field and in the afternoon I would come back and fold the paper and sew it, so it was always this back and forth between the landscape and the work,” she says. “I was trying to respond to the silence I was capturing and then trying to bring it right back to the work.”

  

LEFT In Silence - detail CENTRE Suspended - detail RIGHT Suspended

A work Bowes completed for the 2007 Alberta Biennial, Suspended sees Bowes perform a number of transformative labor techniques to impart a subtractive and reconfigured aesthetic to her work. Again taking inspiration from her environment in the form of an oriole’s nest she found during a walk, Bowes adhered to her repetitive processes to create a contemplative environment through which one can experience a profoundly different connection to an object. “For me, using repetition, and sewing and knitting the paper was kind of like creating a home for my thoughts, so the shape of a nest was fitting.” A piece two years in the making, Bowes meticulously cut each line of text out of a book, ran the disjointed strips of text through a sewing machine and knit the shreds back together, creating what looks to be a large, interconnected, albeit slightly abstracted, finely-woven knit garment. “I wanted to create a piece that, when you stood far away from it, looked like a cohesive object and when you got closer, it fell apart and started to look like it was unraveling. So you have two experiences of the same object, and you yourself become suspended between those two perceptions of the piece, so you have to figure out how you feel about it.” Bowes forces the viewer to come to terms with the appearance of a work of art juxtaposed with its actual meaning by presenting a coherent shape composed of small, quiet gestures. In Suspended, Bowes’ subtle gestures alter the physicality of the object in question, and what remains is a devotional record of the gentle interaction between creator and object, and by extension the interaction between object and viewer. “I read the book every time I manipulated it, so the process is kind of honoring the book, taking it apart and then putting it back together.”

After Suspended, Bowes returned to the comfort of figurative art and portraiture for a brief period of time, yet still never deviated from repetition. Taking inspiration from an Italian window shutter with handles depicting a man’s and woman’s face meant to represent Janus, the Roman god who looks forward and backward into the future and past, Bowes set off on a project to complete 200 carved porcelain double-sided heads, entitled Head Project. “I really was interested in how closely the faces looked to my other work when you looked at them from a distance,” she says. “They’re still dealing with repetition but with repetition you have variation, and at the same time they were very quiet, responding with this silent voice. So the same thread ran through this piece even though my work isn’t dealing with a stitch any more, it’s dealing with faces.”

Head Project

Of late, Bowes has explored the relationship between labour and destruction, and the resulting humility. In her In Silence Companion Piece, Bowes approaches the material in the same way, attempting to alter its physicality by folding and sewing the paper. However, she takes the process one step further by cutting all the stitches away, framing the piece of paper so viewers can see not only her initial alterations, but the absence of the marks she’s inflicted upon the paper. “I think this piece was influenced by when I was trying to ski the parallel lines into the field,” she says. “It’s so windy up here that all those lines kept getting blown in and I was really frustrated. But there is something really beautiful about that, too, and I thought that I needed to capture that humility on paper. What if I destroy my labor, and what kind of voice is left behind?”

For Bowes, a work is never really finished until the seemingly arbitrary duality between silence and vocality is realized. “The piece tells me when it’s done,” she says. “Making a piece is like having a child. There’s a certain point where the child starts to talk back and have its own voice, and I feel it’s the same way when you’re making work. When the work starts to speak for itself, then you have to back away and try to figure out what it’s saying.”

As an artist, one can impart vocality to a certain extent, achieve recognition through repetition, but only once a piece has realized vocality can one respond, in silence and humility. “I think as an artist, as a teacher, as a student, you always have to be willing to venture in the part that is unknown,” she says. “I think it’s more important in the process not to know how it’s going to end, for the work to have its own voice, and I think for me, the more I step back and let that work become its own, the better. Allowing humility to filter in and determine what the work is going to be like is really important to me.”

Critiques.  What really is a critique?  I always find it interesting to discuss the idea of a critique, or crit for short, with others.  Why is it such a bad word?  I’m not swearing, but you would think I was and trying to start a fight.  I think it’s time that we talk about the matter as practicing artists.  Understand that the idea behind a crit isn’t to be CRITICAL, but very much the opposite. 

They are designed to help and aid through constructive conversation how we as artists see.  How we can use it to help view others work.  To grow in our views, our ideas, and even our technical endeavours.  Being an artist and knowing so many artists it would be fair to say that we just want to get better.  And that is open to every aspect of the field, from technique to composition to portraying the right meaning from the piece or the show.

It isn’t necessary to transition into a defensive mode about “why” you created the piece.  We aren’t questioning why the art is discussing “animal rights” or “clear cutting.”  The discussions are more about the idea of if your topic is being portrayed the way you intended.  Understand that a crit helps to understand what people are seeing from it.  How we, as viewers, are depicting the image.  To help with the questions that you have and heaven forbid…share and help develop.

I have found myself leading a lot of critique groups lately.  And they have been wonderful.  I can only hope that people that aren’t directly involved in the groups or other groups can bring this concept of discussion forward and help themselves and the ones around them grow.

Next week…or maybe later today…the art of the signature.

by Jody Farrell

For Dan Arberry, what began as a passing statement following his first exhibition in years, has emerged into something of a personal mission. He’s determined to establish a viable, interactive arts scene in the Peace Region, and, if recent turnouts at arts events offer any indication, his own proactive contribution to that end appears to be working.

Finding Balance Exhibition by Dan Arberry, Fall 2010

In May 2010, Dan blogged about his exhibition, Once Upon a Still Life, which had just opened at the Unique Gallery in Grande Prairie. A blog is one of those wonders of online communication; a collection of personal entries posted on a computer site for others to read and, when inspired, offer comment. Arberry wrote:

“My first showing in approximately 5-6 years. In the beginning I didn’t know what to expect. I have been living in Grande Prairie under the rocks and in the shadows for all these years and was scared to see the reception that I would receive. Since last November, when I started producing again, I have slowly submerged myself into the Grande Prairie Art Scene. And some might laugh when I say “art scene”, but the truth is…there is. Perhaps it just isn’t getting the exposure that it deserves. But, I also think that this group of skilled and modest artists sit back and watch…”

People agreed; the show was indeed a success. Arberry himself knew that his own online presence, along with a concerted effort to gather and forward timely announcements of his opening to as many Grande Prairie and Peace region residents as possible, was at least partly responsible for the large number of visitors that night. But he was also awed at the vitality of the crowd. People were hungry for art and eager for discourse. “So many elements of the night made it a success,” Arberry blogged. “The people. The laughs. The creative conversations. Emerging talent coming out. And the support that I felt throughout the evening.”

Arberry continued to document his feelings and insights on his own webpage, but also made a serious effort to let others know of other upcoming art shows and events. His goal was to build as big and as visible an arts community as possible. He began, he explains, the process of “eating the elephant.”

“It’s not something you can do all at once,’’ Arberry elaborates on the metaphor that aptly illustrates his long-term plan to effectively expand both attendance at the actual shows, and an ongoing, widespread discussion about exhibitions and art. “It requires little bites,” he adds, noting that anything large and lasting usually does.

Early information regarding exhibitions had always appeared on the Art of the Peace website and in its newletters, but the society’s board members, including Arberry, were forever tackling the problem of less-than-optimal communication and participation of artists and art lovers throughout the region.

Dan Arberry reviews the Prairie Ranger Photography exhibition, The Red Carpet

Arberry began gathering his own list of email addresses of anyone remotely linked to the arts in and around the Peace Region, and many from further afield. As months passed, he continued to announce, attend, and blog about exhibitions. He saw a marked increase in attendance. From 20 to 30 participants, exhibitions grew to 60 people or more on opening night. And these included a newer, younger crowd that arts groups had not reached in any sustainable manner before now.

July’s official re-opening of Grande Prairie’s Centre for Creative Arts was a big success, with hundreds of all ages attending the all-day outdoor activities, entertainment and ribbon cutting, and indoor exhibitions, including a live (clothed) model drawing class. The fine summer weather and the opening coinciding with Grande Prairie’s annual Street Performers Festival may have helped matters, but the interest was strong.

Another big surprise was the standing room only attendance at last September’s Wearable Art Show and exhibition at the Centre for Creative Arts. That entire Arts Days weekend, which featured a variety of activities throughout Alberta, was locally deemed a colossal success. The province-backed festival had funding for posters and ads, but lots of information circulated for free online. Alberta Culture and Community officials were thrilled at the public attendance and participation in and around Grande Prairie.

Recent discussions with fellow Art of the Peace board members resulted in Arberry’s creation of a more general arts blog on both the magazine’s website, and its Art of the Peace Facebook page, another online tool that allows for more visible and immediate interaction among followers.

“I try to write about and go to as many exhibitions as possible. I also invite anyone out there to go, and to share their impressions. Some people are scared to walk into an art exhibition. It can be intimidating. I tell them I’ll go with them.”

Small bites like these are how Arberry approaches the elephant-sized task of establishing a larger-than-ever-imagined arts scene in the Peace.

Visit Art of the Peace’s online blog at artofthepeace.ca, and become a friend of Art of the Peace on Facebook.

by Susan Thompson

Laval Bergeron completes a train snow sculpture

The Francophone hamlet of St. Isidore is nestled among the pines just northeast of the town of Peace River. Despite its tiny size and sleepy country demeanor, at the centre of St. Isidore lies a vibrant and distinctive arts and cultural community that draws attention and visitors from across Canada.

One of the most distinctive features of the community is the St. Isidore Carnaval. The annual winter festival features various cultural activities and live music, as well as a popular snow sculpting competition that allows professional and amateur sculptors alike to turn blank white blocks of snow into stunning pieces of art. Snow sculptures are also used to decorate the entire venue, always in keeping with that year’s theme.

Every year, local artist Laval Bergeron creates everything from African animals to full-sized trains out of snow for the event, demonstrating his creativity and mastery of this sensitive medium. As a result Bergeron and partner Rénald Lavoie, recently featured in Art of the Peace for his soapstone carvings, have themselves become known across Canada, going on to compete in Quebec at the much larger Carnaval there as well as competing in or judging the snow sculpting competitions in St. Isidore.

Sandbanks by Barry Warne

However, Bergeron doesn’t sculpt for money or fame. Instead, he prefers to volunteer his time, and sculpt snow simply for the love of it. “I like that I don’t get paid, that I can volunteer,” he says. Bergeron also enjoys the temporary nature of the work, which vanishes as soon as the weather warms, or more tragically, when works are vandalized by overenthusiastic party-goers or teens. “I like it because you can’t sell it and you don’t have to worry about it. It’s going to disappear in no time,” he says. The only way Bergeron’s work can then be remembered is in pictures, or in the memories of those who enjoy it while it lasts. “It’s in our minds,” says Bergeron.

While Bergeron delights in creating art that is meant to be transient, painter Barry Warne views his art as an act of conservation. Self-taught artist Warne prefers to paint the nature he loves, particularly trees, “I think just nature itself, we take it so much for granted and we abuse it so badly, that I think people need to kind of look at it and wonder what they’re doing.”

The gentle landscapes Warne prefers to paint are drawn from elements he’s found across the country, some local it’s true, but others far-flung. A native of England who spent time serving with the Armed Forces in Edmonton, Warne chose to settle near St. Isidore with his family as a sort of trial and never left. Although a true Anglophone and thus not part of the local Francophone culture, he appreciates the quiet pace of country life there, which leaves ample time to create. “It’s the solitude of it, to be able to express your own feelings of things. Whether they turn out good or bad, whatever. It’s just being able to do it.”

While Warne doesn’t view his work as political or as a harsh criticism on society, at the same time he abhors the waste and the constant push for expansion that characterizes so much of the modern day life and economy, seeking to express an opposing viewpoint in his work. “Small is beautiful sometimes,” he says, appearing almost to state a personal motto.

This need to celebrate the things we take for granted drives Warne far more than any personal ambition. Thus, like Bergeron, Warne tends to donate his time and artistic efforts, such as a recent show where he donated the proceeds to Alzheimer’s research, and another in support of the Peace River Library. For these artists, art is a community service, a contribution to the greater human good.

Marie Lavoie at her loom

Community is also a huge part of what drives one of St. Isidore’s other most famous tourist attractions besides Carnaval itself, the weaver’s hall in the cultural centre. Marie Lavoie has been weaving for 36 years and has no plans to stop. “I learned from the others and I took courses. Most of the seniors were raised into it. It was part of their daily tasks. At the time there were large families, and sometimes the grandparents and aunts lived with them. They would weave during the wintertime. It was their way of recycling what they couldn’t use any more for other things.”

There are about five regular weavers, but sometimes more when others come to learn. The weavers create everything from simple tea towels to rugs or custom pieces, using mainly cotton and polyester. It is their heritage and craftsmanship that elevates their work to an art, attracting demand for their pieces at local sales and from tourists who come to visit based mainly on word of mouth. Local schools also bring children to the hall on field trips, and the weavers are always a central part of Carnaval.

Besides the traditional Francophone heritage of their work, the fellowship between the women is part of what keeps them coming back to the looms. “I am enjoying my companions, “ says Lavoie. “We’ve been working together since the very beginning.” While Lavoie says many of the things the weavers do are simple and standard due to public demand, “It depends what you’re working on. Some things are creative,” she says. “We are free to do whatever we want. If we’re not doing any big projects, or if the loom is empty, I can try something new.”

by Eileen Coristine

Over five hundred regional students viewed films at the Reel Shorts Film Festival 2010. Some of the films they saw had been produced that week by kids from St. Joseph’s Catholic High School in Grande Prairie, Hines Creek Composite School, Hythe Regional School, Beaverlodge High School and Valleyview.

Hines Creek’s Justin Knoepfli, star of Ninja Revenge has been to two Reel Shorts Youth Filmmaking Challenges and is hoping to attend again. His role in the 2010 film has also inspired him to consider attending a stunt school in Washington next year. The funny thing is that Justin captured the lead role in the movie because he was the guy who fit into the costume.

For the past six years his teacher, Sherri MacDowall has been bringing groups of students to the Youth Filmmaking Challenge to introduce them to the “most collaborative art form in the world,” as Reel Shorts is described.

“Sherri has been bringing her students to the festival since 2007,” says festival founder, Terry Scerbak, “She’s also been a key factor in developing the Youth Filmmaking Challenge workshops. Sherri always wanted more hands-on opportunities for her students.”

To help provide them with those kinds of opportunities during the rest of the school year, the Hines Creek students have a high school credit course dedicated to filmmaking and state of the art camera, sound and editing equipment. This year Sherri has eight students in her class, and will be able to bring up to eight more along to enter the challenge.

Last year, in order to finance their trip to the festival, the kids produced a commercial and presented it to the County of Clear Hills Council. Council members were so impressed that they provided the necessary funds.

The Youth Filmmaking Challenge workshops are led by Vancouver filmmaker Scott Belyea (formerly of Grande Prairie), Scooter Corckle from Vancouver and Michael Bouree from Grande Prairie. These film professionals guide the production and provide the students with on location training.

Australian actress and filmmaker Alyssa McClelland visited six classes following last year’s festival to provide more support for student films. Not only was she impressed by the students’ films, she was also surprised by the level of discussions about what a life in the arts might be like. “If you pursue a life in the art you may not be rich in money,” she told the students, “but you will be rich in experiences.”

Through their filmmaking class the Hines Creek students have some technical experience, but once they are at the workshop they have an intense and consuming task to complete in a very short time. After a three hour orientation with the workshop leaders production begins.

“The students have to pitch their ideas to the producers and then once the subject is chosen they spend the next two and a half days filming,” Sherri explains.

“First we looked at all the places and costumes and props available for us at Muskoseepi Park,’ Justin says. “Then we came up with ideas about what we could do there.” Since there is no formal script and the scenes are filmed out of sequence, the film evolves as it is shot.

Ninja Revenge, at eight minutes, is the Hines Creek students’ longest (and according to Sherri, their best) film to date. Although there is a brief synopsis: a young man must learn the ancient ways of combat to avenge his fallen sister, the title really tells it all.

After two days of intensive filming the students returned home. Ninja Revenge was edited and sent on to them later. Although the Challenge films are shown at the end of the Reel Shorts Festival, the Hines Creek kids have never stayed for that viewing. Instead, Sherri holds a “Premier” and invites the school community. There is a red carpet and “champagne” and the stars, directors and film and sound crews get to see what they’ve collectively created.

“Attending the festival blew my expectations,” Justin says. “It’s given me a great respect for all the people who make films.” Ninja Revenge can be viewed online at YouTube. The fifth Grande Prairie Live Theatre Reel Shorts Film Festival will be held May 4-8, 2011. “The festival celebrates short films and the filmmakers who make them by screening gems of storytelling brilliance from around the world, across Canada, and here in the Peace Region,” says Terry Scerbak. “We entertain audiences, and inspire, teach, and showcase Peace Region filmmakers, thus helping to develop a filmmaking community in the Peace Region.”

For more information on the festival see www.reelshorts.ca.

by Margaret Price

Conversation 1, a collabroative work by The Two Marys

The two printmakers heading up the art form’s growing movement in Dawson Creek could not be more different.

Mary Mottishaw, the thoughtful introvert, speaks calmly and deliberately, taking an almost bullet-list approach to her conversation with me, chewing over each word, savoring the taste. Mary Parslow, the excitable extrovert, winds around from point to point, tenuously, ardently, alighting briefly like a bird to a limb and just as quickly fluttering off again.

MARY MOTTISHAW

Mary Mottishaw, organized and disciplined in her trade, carefully plans each piece, starting with an idea and working methodically from research, gathering materials, reviewing notes and drawings in her journal, poring over her own writing for inspiration from years past.

Perhaps more intellectual and symbolic in her approach, Mottishaw’s work is informed by ideas, and behind each piece is an unequivocal cognitive process. Her space is arranged so that everything is just where she wants it, where she needs it. And it is this consciousness of space that is fused into her work, as she often works with mapping concepts and spatial and relational elements, knowing just where to put one or two special things. “I’m influenced by the sense of space and the change in our landscape,” she says.

There’s a subtlety to her work, generally more temperate in hue, her focused prints imbued with layer upon layer of soft color and palpable significance, Take, for example, the piece Beloved Valley, a delicate, painterly monoprint of the Peace River Valley, constructed with a transparent glaze of yellow, red and blue ink. “I wanted to do something very iconic and easily recognizable,” Mottishaw says. “The challenge was to use only those three colors and create as many colors as I could with the darks and lights and still have it be representative of what I wanted it to be.” Beloved Valley is a touching ode to the context that surrounds us, full of reverence for the land, and a gentle appreciation for the things we see every day.

Beloved Valley by Mary Mottishaw

Columbine by Mary Mottishaw

Another landscape-inspired piece is Columbine, one print in her series of Peace River area wildflowers. In Columbine, a linoblock print, Mottishaw again takes the commonplace and abstracts it to impart meaning. Soft washes of watercolors drench the canvas behind the stark black of the outline of the carved away image, a bit of blue for the sky, a bit of green from the foliage, and hints of red and yellow for the flower.

Inspired By Pat by Mary Mottishaw

Inspired by Pat is arguably Mottishaw’s most symbolic work to date. A mixed media piece incorporating elements of printmaking, Inspired by Pat is a remembrance piece of the artist’s friend, who passed away recently. And like all of Mottishaw’s work, it was carefully planned. “I wanted to do a piece to commemorate Pat, so I started by writing down all the things we’ve done together, things that I knew she liked, what colors she liked, who were her friends, on and on, and then I built those elements up layer upon layer upon layer.” The result is a serene homage to a loved one, every element possessing a deliberate place and meaning. Look closer. A photograph of a group of friends, four faces smiling from beneath the translucent blues and greens, shades of Pat’s favorite colors. Music notes run throughout the piece. A dancing goddess figurine celebrates life and happiness. Every element planned. Everything in its right space.

MARY PARSLOW

Wild Peace by Mary Parslow

Mary Parslow plans her pieces too, but it is almost as if she cannot plan until her hands are in the middle of it. To her, printmaking is a kinesthetic process. She has to get the materials out, see the colors, smell the ink, pick up the implements, and then get going. “It’s almost ‘ready, fire, aim’ instead of ‘ready, aim, fire’,” she says. “I have a sense of where I’m going, but it’s more of a visceral process to me than a cognitive process. I just have to jump off the cliff first, and the parachute will come out and I’ll land.”

Comparatively, her work is characterized by distortion, expression, and bold, almost violent colours. She works in metaphors, choosing not to give viewers everything handed to them on a plate, instead favoring an element of mystery, leaving the observer alone with nothing but his or her thoughts. Look closer. Things are not always as they seem, nor would we want them to be.

Much of Parslow’s work exists in the realm of the spirit, a realm not unknown to the artist, who, subsequent to teaching for 20 years, completed theological training and entered into the priesthood for five years. “I think I had a calling to be a teacher; I know I had a calling to be a priest; and I feel the calling to be an artist even more strongly than those other two callings,” she says. “It seems to be at a totally consuming level, in a way that I haven’t felt before. I couldn’t stop doing it if I tried.”

Camoflage by Mary Parslow

In what’s become somewhat of a signature piece for her, Parslow, like many Canadian artists, draws inspiration from the earth and its people. Wild Peace, a reduction linocut, is a metaphorical landscape displaying her love of bold colour and tendency towards primitive, almost violent artistic movement. The Peace River flows over the face of the earth in a highly stylized personification of the land and its windswept trees and rocks. Parslow translates the wildness of the Peace into ink and paper, taming the elements.

For Parslow, art is often an emotional release. “There’s a lot in the subconscious that you don’t know is there until suddenly it’s on the paper in front of you,” she says. Take, for instance, the piece Camouflage, one print in a series of chine-collé monoprints of life drawings of the female form. In an attempt to soften the edges of an otherwise starkly primitive figure, Parslow’s art began to unveil itself to her in an unexpected way. “The figure was almost hiding underneath the chine-collé.”

Interior Fantasy by Mary Parslow

Events in Parslow’s personal life have had a profound impact on the way she creates art, providing inspiration for some of her pieces, and printmaking has become a much-needed catharsis. “I think some of this is grief work. It’s been very theraputic for me.” The piece Interior Fantasy is one such emotionally-charged work. Another chine-collé monoprint, the piece is a highly emotive, highly personal treatise on illness and changing body image. “[Interior Fantasy] has a lot to do with interior thinking about the body, and life, and how life passes and you change,” she says. “How two different personalities deal with two different issues.” The central figure, with its commanding presence on the page, serves as a steadfast bastion of strength and comfort to the two smaller figures, one quietly retreating into herself, the other defiantly challenging the viewer. Three figures wordlessly sharing one innate interior monologue, at once both intimate and transparent. “You are the hands doing the job,” she says. Parslow’s sense of self in the context of the world of people defines her work.

Mary Mottishaw and Mary Parslow

DESPITE THESE DIFFERENCES, the Two Marys, as they are lovingly and collectively known, are after the same thing: a growing awareness of printmaking as an art form and the joys of art as a whole in the Peace region, and beyond. “I try to educate people not to think of art as a frill, but as a whole cognitive and emotional process,” Parslow says. “To me it’s a way of living, it’s a way of being in the world, and we want to encourage that.”

Over the past few years, the artists have strengthened their bond, both personally and professionally. The Two Marys met while students in the Northern Lights College Visual Arts program, working side by side on various projects. Sharing a love of printmaking, the two became sounding boards for one another, experimenting with different techniques, providing suggestions and mutual encouragement. ”Lunch break” workshops with fellow students not familiar with printmaking became the norm. And that’s how teaching together began, so it seems.

Collaboration became the obvious next step, and the Two Marys just completed their second collaborative work. Entitled Una Voce, the linocut print is a wonderful culmination of their two disparate styles, existing in perfect harmony on one piece of paper. “I think it’s a good example of how we work,” says Mottishaw. “We’re on the same page, but we express our art differently.” On the left, we see Mottishaw’s spatial awareness, with topographic map contour lines delineating her space, and five deliberately-placed circles dotting the landscape of her face. On the right, we see Parslow’s gentle reverence for the human form and consciousness of the changing body, each cut violently expressive and full of emotion.

Una Voce by The Two Marys

Look closer. Two halves, no matter how different, make a whole, and, while one surely may be able to exist without the other, it would be an existence markedly unprofound. Una Voce responds with a single visual voice to proclaim the importance of the unifying power of art. It is a silent tribute to kindred, albeit distinct, spirits. “It’s quite exciting,” says Parslow. “To get two people who are so different on one piece of artwork is something. Our differences really are complementary to each other.”

We are all creative beings. Like all communities that come together,” says Parslow, we thrive upon the mutual encouragement, wisdom and growth that comes from collaboration. Creativity is universal, and collaboration is as natural a process as breathing. “We have a need to be with others who share our way of being in the world and benefit from the differences that each individual brings to the ongoing conversation,” she says. Art cuts into that universality, expounds upon the common medium that binds us all, and layers meaning into our existence.