Once Upon a Time in China

Reading that the terracotta warriors of Emperor Qin are coming to Canada (from Washington D.C., to Toronto ON), I was reminded of the first time I saw them, back in 1989, at the site of their discovery, in Xi'an, China. Despite the signs in English forbidding photography, I 'accidentally' snapped off this flash-shot with my snappy new camera with the digital date-stamp feature. Happy April Fools, terracotta bitches!

I didn't make any notes on my travels, but I took many pictures (on real 35mm film- only the date stamp was digital), which I thought I'd go through, and scan some of the shots I took of some of the numerous sculptures and monuments I saw on my trip.

This one, the Statue of Five Goats, is a famous local landmark in Guangzhou. "Legend has it that 5 celestial beings brought 5 goats into Guangzhou. The goats were all carrying rice, which symbolized that they would make sure that the area would always be free of famine. Guangzhou has paid tribute to these benevolent goats by making them the symbol of the city. There are many goat statues in the "Goat City" and the Statue of the Five Goats is the most impressive."

Sculptural menageries of mundane and fantastical creatures are a common artistic theme, with these leonine beasts serving the typical symbolic 'guardian' role, placed at important entrances within the Forbidden City in Beijing.

A varied assortment of other exotic beasts, such as the golden elephant the younger me sits next to, line the pathways. [Yes, thank you, I realize I look very dorky to 21st century eyes. Actually, this look was very cool in 1989.]

Tiananmen Square; an overwhelmingly huge paved open space, home to the columnar 'Monument to the People's Heroes', and the figurative monument at Mao's Mausoleum seen here; was eerily empty and peaceful when I was there, considering, in hindsight, the events of just a few weeks later.

More DC Sights

National Gallery of Art, Washington DC, autumn 2009.


Painting After Rembrandt, National Gallery,
Washington DC, autumn 2009.


The White House, Washington DC, autumn 2009.


Work Zone, Washington DC, autumn 2009.


Dry Cleaners, Washington DC, autumn 2009.


Buildings, Washington DC, autumn 2009.


Farmers' Market Cargo, Washington DC, autumn 2009.


National City Christian Church, Washington DC, autumn 2009.


Ornamental Cabbages, Washington DC, autumn 2009.

Presbyterian Homesick Blues

Chuck Redd Presents the Ladies, featuring Chuck Redd on Drums, Amy Shook on Bass, Leigh Pilzer on Sax, and Jen Krupa (with the genes of Gene) on Trombone. Bootleg recorded at the Westminster Presbyterian Church in Washington D.C. on Friday, October 30, 2009.

Spur of the Moment

My renewed passport came in the mail the other day, and I had been thinking about a trip to Washington D.C. to tour the museums, with a few current exhibitions particularly in mind.

So, I cashed in a whack of aeroplan points, and flew out here today. Some scheduled sights include: 'Anne Truitt: Perceptions and Reflections' at the Hirshhorn, 'Sargent and the Sea' at the Corcoran, and 'The Art of Power: Royal Armour and Portraits from Imperial Spain' at the National Gallery.

See you next week...

Surf Update

Aware that I had let my own website languish over the past few years without an update, and lately having a bit of free time on my hands, I finally got around to a complete site renovation.
The modest result of my efforts, done with the help of Apple's iWeb software, ain't too fancy, but it works.
If you'd like to judge for yourself, go to ryanmccourt.ca... and if you've got any comments, come back here and leave them below.
Happy surfing!

Remember Those Deadlines!

The Great Figure
Among the rain
and lights
I saw the figure 5
in gold
on a red
fire truck
moving
tense
unheeded
to gong clangs
siren howls
and wheels rumbling
through the dark city

-William Carlos Williams

The Edmonton Arts Council, on behalf of the City of Edmonton, recently invited all Canadian and international artists to submit proposals for a public artwork at Fire Station No. 5. This open competition is held in accordance with the City of Edmonton policy “Percent for Art to Provide and Encourage Art in Public Areas”. With a budget of $60,000 (maximum, all inclusive), the deadline for submissions was 4:30 PM Friday, August 8, 2008.

Unfortunately, I had the date wrong in my head, and got folked up all weekend, so I plumb dang forgot to mail my submission in on time. Too bad, it was a goody: based on the famous Charles Demuth painting, inspired by the William Carlos Williams poem, my large glass-tile mosaic would have carried along in the ongoing tradition of works like Robert Indiana’s “Demuth American Dream, No.5”, or Jasper Johns’ “The Black Figure 5”. As Henry Geldzahler observed in an essay in 1965, “The Figure 5 in Gold [is] a work with a past and a future”.

Oops. Better luck next time...

Autograph Critique

A common comment from people who've attended Autograph has been, "I didn't know you drew, too." Nobody has yet suggested I shouldn't draw, but interestingly enough I have been advised not to exhibit them. I initially wondered at this, but must admit there is something slightly banal about these ink drawings when presented as finished and framed artworks. "At least someone is out there looking and drawing from what they see," someone else noted, as though drawing from life was so odd and rare as to be anachronistic in this technological age. I admit, they are low investment renderings that take all of 20 minutes in plain old permanent marker; and being derived from low-level drawing class exercises means they really are little more than warm-up sketches. I haven't yet worked back into them with any serious attempt to resolve them as matured artworks, though I have a number of ideas for furthering their evolution.

Next Act Cast, felt on paper, 2006 (sold)

These blind-contours are, simply, noun studies - drawings of people, places and things for the purpose of understanding forms and relationships. Each page is only composed insofar as I can mentally find the picture in the setting before me, like when looking through the viewfinder of a camera. But the drawing that results on the page takes shape quite accidentally, and when I do glance down at it I have to invent impromptu overlays of information that I feel will help balance the picture. I don't so much stop one of these drawings because the scene has been captured as when I sense some overall balance has been achieved between the positive (black) and the negative (white). It is only a half-dozen sketchbook pages in a hundred that I deem worthy of exhibition. Though everything is for sale.

Starbucks Trail, felt on paper, 2006 (private collection)

Autograph: Sculpture and Drawing by Rob Willms
N.E.S.W. Common Sense
February 29 - April 30
viewing by appointment (or door-buzzer)
482-2685
10546-115 Street

Autograph in Felt

Two of the sketches included in Autograph have people as subject matter. Utilizing blind contour technique means sinking into what looks to be a 100-mile stare, which in a public place can put people on edge. Men who notice you staring and scribbling scowl and turn a few more degrees away, while women immediately reach to tuck away visible underwear straps or elastic.

Leva Service, felt on paper, 2006, 11x14" (sold)

Eventually people relax, forget that you're there, and resume their conversations and activity. Blind contour drawing relies upon a slow and fairly steady concentration upon evident contour lines, and a moving target can make this a challenge. Funnily enough, though, the technique suits the depiction of human activity reasonably well, whether it is conveying a frenetic or sedentary setting.

McDonald's Regulars, felt on paper, 2006, 11x14" (sold)

Travel Photos

At the moment, I'm outside of Canada, visiting an island in the Pacific; a place of considerable natural beauty, for sure, but, wouldn't you know it, some sights of a more industrial nature caught my eye. Like this "Studio for Lease"... looks like a sculptors dream, don't ya think? Great big space, a nice stack of I-Beams, even a purdy blue forklift in the background (I bet it even works, and everything!)... maybe I should think about relocating... out back, there was a yard full of these great, if somewhat Minimalist, concrete works, too.

I had to pull off the highway, and scramble over some rough terrain, to get these shots, but it seemed worth the effort... that is, until I twisted my ankle heading back to the car... I felt, and even heard, the crunch, and knew that it was a nasty injury... proud and stubborn though I may be, I relented, and took my honey's advice, and headed off to the nearest emergency room...

But, since this is a backwards little nation (its health system is ranked #37 by the WHO), it took more than a day to get a proper diagnosis... a badly sprained foot and ankle. So, it looks like I'll be wearing a corrective boot for a while.

Just imagine: A one legged-sculptor... who ever heard of such a thing?

Gift that Keeps Giving

I've had to put the sculpting on hold while I fill orders for steel Christmas gifts - things like wine racks (seen above) and Christmas trees (ornament holders) and bunk beds (not yet finished), et cetera, et cetera. But back to it in the New Year. I'll drink to that, and HUZZAH!

Merry Christmas, y'all!

I Believe The Children Are Our Future...

... and so, with the strains of Whitney Houston's immortal song in my head, I gave a presentation on my art to approximately 180 assembled students at Harry Ainlay High School on Thursday. The audience was comprised of grade 11 and 12 art students, and grade 12 International Baccalaureate students, as part of their Theory of Knowledge course curriculum on the arts.
I had been invited by one of the school's art teachers, Theron Lund, who requested me particularly

"because of the controversy over your Ganesh sculptures, but I am not interested in any of the legal controversy. I feel that your Ganesh series speaks very positively about the cultural exchange of ideas and about cultural relativism in our society today. But beyond that, I am also interested in my students learning about your approach to artmaking; the issues of space and form in your work, where you get your ideas from, etc."

So, my talk basically consisted in a tour of my last ten years of life as a sculptor, from my MFA thesis work, to my present occupations.
The students were a great audience: sitting in quiet interest through the slide lecture, warmly applauding at the end (it's not every day I get applause, but I can see why performers like that kind of thing), and best of all, lots of interested, wide-ranging questions at the end. Most of the audience stayed on after the dismissal bell, and even after the teacher dispersed the crowd, a few came up on stage to speak with me, including one student who plans on writing her term paper on my work (and the issues surrounding it). I'm looking forward to giving her a tour of the pieces at our new studio, and hope I get to read the paper when she's done.
Also, I loaned the school "Ganesha, Patron of the Arts", pictured here, for their enjoyment, and possible inspiration for Mr. Lund's art students' next sculpture project. I'm interested to see what they come up with, too...

Fire it Up!

Question: What do you do when you've got a studio renovation that includes demolition, producing a large supply of wood garbage and debris, AND, you have a hankerin' for some hot dogs?

Answer: You set a large bonfire in the back lot of the NESW, and have yourself a wienie roast!

Bonus Point: In order to comply with Edmonton Fire Safety Rules (and avoid an embarrassing visit from Edmonton's Bravest), your fire pit must be less than two feet high, three feet wide, ten feet away from other combustibles like buildings and whatnot, and you must have a grate over the fire to keep the sparks down.

Lesson learned.

The Slide of a Barn Door

Many people who've toured it have commented that the new NESW studio building has "a lot of potential". 'Potential' is, I think, the recognition of a shortcoming that seems ripe for transformation. Until yesterday the building's existing garage door, the one through which all future sculptures must issue, was pure potential. By which I mean that it was a mite small - our sculptural ambitions, it is sure, are bigger than 7x7'. Or some of our sculptures are, at least.



So we measured and tallied and calculated the potential. It seemed to add up to 14x10', with a little added to the sides and top for weatherproofing. We gathered a couple hundred pounds of redundant materials from around the building (signboards and unwanted rooms and the like) and constructed a rectangular shape that might make an approximate substitute for the enclosure. Once we'd demolished it.



As it turned out, demolition was more than a simple sledge and crowbar affair. We were forced to make use of every mechanical (i.e. 1/2 ton) advantage at our disposal. Frugally, or luckily, we thought far enough ahead to salvage the child-size garage door for a future indoors project and set aside the original man-door for use inside the sliding door. Presuming we could get the hulking thing outside at all.



I suppose that we might've hung the new door prior to demolishing the old one, but in that case we'd have had to've built the replacement out-of-doors, because it had to be bigger than the opening. And the new door was already laying red on the floor inside. By 11:00 Saturday morning everything was on the ground and there was no going back - the empty doorway needed a secure door raised by sundown. Even if it ended up being a tall temporarily portable wall.



In the end, with the help of a closet-artist who was kind enough to risk our old-worlde barn-raising techniques (and suggest a few himself), the door came off its rails only once before we finally got it up. Sculptures, issue forth!

NEW NESW VIEW

In our former location, the front windows of the North Edmonton Sculpture Workshop looked out onto a funeral home (or chapel, parlour, emporium... whatever you call 'em).

Now, in our new location, we look out towards the old, ramshackle "Bates Industrial Service" building. Our new space needs renovating before we can put it to our artistesque, sculptorial uses, so in the meantime, this photo represents my current, meagre creative output.

Well, enough of that arty stuff... time to go pick up some drywall screws, strap on a tool belt (heh heh, I wrote "strap on"), and get to work. Sculpture making? Later...

Little Somethings

This morning I loaded up a dolly and hooked up the gantry trailer in order to pick up two sculptures that were in need of a little care and repair. Then I had a nap.

In the afternoon came a modest reception for the Scott Gallery's exhibition of Small Sculptures by Peter Hide. Then I had some beer.

Picture: Pandora's Box, Peter Hide, 2007

Metropolitan Sharpies

As I was saying, on three different days during our stay in NYC MsQuoted and I visited the Metropolitan Museum where, amazingly, anyone can make pictures of the place and its stuff at will (in most of the exhibits, anyway). Not that many people stand still a moment longer than it takes to snap a photo. The place is so huge that I suppose it can be worrisome to think you might miss something unless you keep moving. Above: a view of the front atrium from the balcony.

MsQuoted says "put up the torso sketch" and, voila, the torso study gets uploaded: a variable viewpoint continous line blind contour drawing. The odd thing about CLBC sketches is that to an observer it can seem as though the artist actually is blind because the technique calls for staring carefully ahead at the subject instead of down at the drawing. The effect is not unlike meeting one of those street performers who stands stock-still and waits for a coin to drop into the donation tin before enacting a mechanical dance. It only now occurs to me that I could actually busk by drawing.

People often respond in funny ways to the fact that I dare to sit, stare and draw in their presence. Most common are parental admonitions to children (or others) who unabashedly walk over to stare down at what I'm doing, sometimes right in the way of my view. Very often an adult with an interest will execute what they believe to be a surreptitious manuever to look over my shoulder unseen. Above: the newly opened Greek/Roman galleria - an impressive room filled with many ancient things that are invariably interspersed with tourists.
Oddly, sitting still and drawing quietly in public is conspicuous, though passive, and not unlike walking around in shorts when you've got a prosthetic leg. Which I do. Not everyone notices, but those who do seem to experience a social dilemma - to look, or not to look. Only a handful of people ever confront the awkwardness head-on by simply talking to me (in either scenario), and those few are usually children. It's probably less awkward for the more mature when I'm both wearing shorts and drawing in public because at least then it's obvious that I'm just some guy who's got mental issues. Above: an ancient Chinese monkish statue with no head or hands.

There's a hall at the Met that's full of Rodin sculptures in plaster, bronze or marble where I stood studying that master sculptor's work for probably an hour, if not longer. People milled around me, sneaking (not so) stealthy peeks at what I was doing. Some people sniffed and turned away if they didn't immediately recognize on the page the setting I was presumably staring at, while others stayed a little longer puzzling out how the sketch matched the scene. Above: Rodin's lifesize bronze The Age of Bronze, from multiple viewpoints.

The Met's rooftop was a pleasant surprise for me as I'd previously only visited during the winter, when it's closed to the public. While drawing Rodin's enlarged bronze Three Shades (above) I was crowded by three boys who jostled for a view of the sketch and asked me questions like could I draw cars. The header inscription reads: The Iris and B. Gerald Cantor Roof Garden.

On Friday and Saturday evenings the rooftop is a hip-happenin' place that serves martinis to a crowd of Manhattanites. The view of the sun setting across Central Park is nothing short of spectacular, as long as you're not standing too near one of Frank Stella's looming sculptures.

One of the few exhibits that disallowed picture-taking or -making was the one I wished most to draw in: Julio Gonzalez' Cactus Woman was on exhibit in "Barcelona and Modernity: Gaudi to Dali", and I can find no images of it anywhere online or in my texts. I especially regret this now because to my eye it was the most memorable sculpture of the entire trip - maybe I should go back and try a little surreptitiousness myself.

Two Kinds of People

A friend who has been places once said to me that there are only two kinds: those who've been to New York City, and those who've not. I might add that only once a person has successfully navigated the MTA subway, Central Park and the Metroplitan Museum can he or she legitimately say, "Yeah, I've been to New York."With hardly any prior notice MsQuoted and I jumped on a plane for that grandest of metropolii (sic). She'd not been to the city before and I'd not been for four years - I was eager for her reeducation and my reconciliation. Of course, six days in NYC allows for only a fragmented experience of everything the city has to offer, so we chose our fragments carefully.For the first couple of days I gently guided my wife by the elbow as though blind, or seasick; until she finally acclimatized as the concrete seemed to be heaving all the taxis and lorries and bicycles and pedestrians to and fro - a discord of noises and smells quavering in the air. But by the third day MsQuoted had found her legs.
A hop skip and jump from our hotel each morning found us breakfasting at Guy&Gallard. We paid admissions at the Met, MoMA, the Frick, and the Neue. We savoured Bjork at Harlem's Apollo and choked on The Guts at the Knitting Factory downtown. We shopped Canal Street and the Strand. Three times we ate dinner in Chelsea, two of those at the Half King. And we rode the rails to Yale to visit some Edmonton friends for the day. We sat in Battery Park. We sat in Union Square Park. We sat in Madison Square Park. We sat in Stuyvesant Park. Nearly every day we spent time in Central Park, and at least three times sought respite from the opiate Met in the shadow of Cleopatra's Needle. It took twenty hours to return to Edmonton City from New York City by train, cab, plane and bus, and although I haven't yet been home for an entire day (and I'm not sure MsQuoted would agree), I feel I could just as easily take the bus, plane, cab and train back tomorrow morning. Next May we'll have to add 'fixie' to our navigation of the city.