Kertész the shadow man in full view at the WAG

Hungarian-born photographer André Kertész is a bit of an enigma, like the shadows that predominate his work. After purchasing his first camera at age 18, he was called into service in World War I where he photographed moments from life in the trenches, developing a mature, engaging style that would span his entire career from Hungary, to France, to the United States.

As a commercial photojournalist, Kertész’s work was published in French, German, and American magazines, through which he steadily gained an international reputation for his innovative use of camera angles, composition, distortion, and the effects of light.

The current exhibition on at the Winnipeg Art Gallery (WAG), titled Shadow Marks, is the gallery’s effort to provide a sort of introductory class to Kertész for the unaware (which, presumably, would be quite a few), showcasing select works from his career beginning in 1914 and ending around 1980.

Although it only contains a small 30 pieces from the WAG’s collection of 180 Kertész photographs, the exhibit nonetheless offers an excellent overview of the photographer’s unusual and thought-provoking style.

Disappearing Act (1955)

Perhaps due to lack of space (the WAG is currently showcasing Inuit sculpture, Nunavik art, European Renaissance and Baroque pieces, and the Indigenous exhibit Close Encounters) Kertész’s exhibit has been placed in the smallest gallery room (#3) of the WAG on the third floor, which at first glance gives the impression that the exhibit is rather insignificant.

To get the full effect of Kertész’s art, enter not from the Skylight Gallery, but from gallery #1 or #4 which house a variety paintings in full colour that make entering an entire room of black and white photography a refreshing contrast.

In keeping with Kertész’s minimalist black and white theme, the works are displayed in oversized frames with thick, clean white boarders around each photo, then divided among the four walls into Kertész’s key periods: Hungarian, French, and American.

Lighting can make or break an exhibit, but in this case the WAG has done well to use overhead track lighting which makes the room appear light, inviting, and not as small, while reducing the amount of glare on the photographs for viewers.

Washington Square, Winter (1966)

The exhibit begins with a silhouette photo of the artist along with a short biography, after which it takes a chronological approach to layout, with each photo representing one, sometimes seven years from Kertész’s career. This approach is a good choice for viewers new to Kertész in that it is quite easy to stand in the middle of the room and be able to view his changes in themes and shifts in style and subject matter as he developed his art further.

It is from this angle that even the casual viewer can plainly see how groundbreaking Kertész’s work was – back in the twentieth century, and today. While all of Kertész’s photos depict ordinary, everyday objects, he captures them in such a way that we no longer see them as such. Even the most mundane of snowy city streets covered in tire tracks and footprints is transformed into a maze of intricate patterns by Kertész’s impressive talent of altering perspective.

One of his more popular pieces, Satiric Dancer – also on display at the WAG – is a studio portrait, but not in the traditional sense. Here, the woman as subject is posed contorted on a couch, imitating the corner wall behind her. This is the true Kertész style: an eclectic mix of still-life, portraits, and street photography, which possess an intriguing story-like quality. In fact, Kertész is considered by many photographers to be the father of photojournalism – a fact you won’t find stated anywhere in the Shadow Marks exhibit.

Apart from a brief biography, the room is completely void of information about the works and the artist, save for a handful of wall texts. As an introductory exhibit, more could have been done to answer some obvious questions – for instance, how many of Kertész’s photos were staged (certainly the headless mannequin and duck composition of Rencontre demands an explanation) and why he seemed to shift between the relatively ‘normal’ portraits and still life, to the bizarre distortions and street photography throughout his career.

Satiric Dancer (1926)

What is made evident, however, is Kertész’s place in the larger realm of the art world, albeit through an interesting comparison. Strategically placed around the room among the photographs are black and white pieces of stoneware in various shapes that echo Kertész not only in colour, but also in theme. One particular pair of vases is described as retaining the traditional form of the vessel while having been altered to assume a more artful, sculpture-like quality.

This, in fact, is the essence of Kertész’s work and his contribution to the artistic community, in that through his photographs he has reframed the traditional, and altered the ordinary, to create art in a new way out of unlikely subjects. Shadow Marks recognizes this, and is an overall excellent introduction to his work.

Shadow Marks runs until September 9, 2011 at the Winnipeg Art Gallery.

Mennonites and art: paradox, or a natural pairing?

Photo credit: me.

Traveling to Morden, Manitoba can inspire visions of corn and apples (at its annual festival), fossils (at the discovery centre), or even roses (from the research centre’s plant cross breeding program) – certainly not canvases and paintbrushes. But visiting the Pembina Hills Arts Centre will change that mindset.

Located in what was the town’s original post and customs office, complete with a functional clock tower, the centre – run by the Pembina Hills Arts Council – is easily spotted blocks away from its location at 352 Stephen St.

Creating awareness and encouraging artistic expression in the 7,000 strong community began in the 1960s, but was spearheaded in the 1980s by Pamela York-Hardy who “was an artist from B.C. who came up here and went ‘this place needs some culture’,” said Monica Friesen, the centre’s administrative director.

York-Hardy didn’t have to look far: today, the council represents 16 communities from Pilot Mound to Altona, in an area – which may surprise some tourists – teeming with amateur and professional artists.

“It’s kind of a paradox,” said Friesen, “It’s a very prominent Mennonite area which means historically [the people were] humble, simple, peaceful, quiet, don’t be proud. But then we have this burst of artistic talent.”

Admission is free, and visitors can browse the four galleries, two of which currently display the centre’s March exhibit: a tribute to the work of the late Margaret Dykman, along with equally impressive paintings and sculptures from her father, husband, son, granddaughter, and niece.

Upstairs, galleries three and four house a variety of local work (landscapes, portraits, and abstracts) as well as classrooms for drawing, painting, and pottery which occupy what was once the postmaster’s residence. The living quarters, including the kitchen and bathroom, are well intact and explained in detail (complete with a ghost story) by Friesen, who offers group tours of the building.

This rich blend of history and art makes the centre an important asset to the community.

“Arts is everywhere and people don’t realise it,” said Friesen. “They’re reluctant to come into an arts centre and go ‘I don’t get it’ or ‘this is boring’, but when you look at the history and the story of these artists, we’re all connected.”

This is true even for artists originating outside the community. William Reed moved to Morden from Saskatchewan and has several acrylic paintings in the centre showcasing his self-taught skills.

“To be accepted into a new community, I wanted to show in the community art gallery. [Now] I’m making friends and [I get to] share information with fellow artists.”

Visitors can share in the fruits of the artists’ labours in the centre’s sizable gift shop containing all things handmade: dinnerware (pottery mugs as low as $15); jewelry (earrings starting at $20); paintings; photography; corn and apple shaped beeswax candles; and soup, cake, and beer bread mixes.

The Pembina Hills Arts Centre is open Tuesday-Saturday, 10-5 PM in Morden, about a two hour drive from Winnipeg. Visit www.pembinahillsart.com or www.mordenmb.com for more information.

Second time's still a charm: Basia Bulat at WECC

Almost two years since her last performance in Winnipeg at Folk Fest, indie songstress Basia Bulat returned to the city Thursday night to promote her new album Heart of My Own and played at the next place you’d find folkies (at least during the winter): the West End Cultural Centre.

(all photos by me at flickr)

Just after 8 PM, opener Katie Stelmanis strode onto the stage to sit at the venue’s old Baldwin piano – which immediately revealed a poor choice in stage setup: Positioning the piano at the far right of the stage had Stelmanis singing into the wings, rather than to the audience, and gave half of the crowd stage left nothing more than a clear view of her back.

But the Toronto-native tried to work with the arrangements, making tentative jokes about her lack of view which eventually gave way to the usual takes on Winnipeg weather. Her music, similar in style to that of Regina Spektor, combines her opera-trained vocal range with a shot or two of punk and synthesizer.

Her set received a polite but otherwise quiet reception from the almost, if not entirely full-house crowd who were clearly anticipating Bulat – and were a little displeased by her late arrival: at 30 minutes since Stelmanis’ last song, one man rose from his seat and shook his fist at the still empty stage.

Five minutes later, Bulat and her band hurried onto the stage to loud applause, jumping straight into a (disappointingly guitar-led, but nonetheless beautifully performed) rendition of her new album’s title track, Heart of My Own.

Swapping guitar for her signature autoharp, she ran through a series of old and new tunes including Gold Rush and her widely successful In the Night (which garnered great approval from the crowd) but had to cut it short when one of the harp’s strings broke.

Bulat handled the mishap with ease, quickly switching to the oddly placed piano for Run and Snakes and Ladders with a quip about the string instruments’ bad temperament towards her in the winter.

Despite having been on a rigorous tour schedule for much of 2010 – including Paris, London, New York and Chicago – Bulat appeared fresh and energetic: swinging ‘round the stage during the more lively numbers, her voice carrying well over the pounding drums from her brother, Bobby, and viola and backing vocals from Allison Stewart. Indeed, the concert could have passed for one in the first leg of her tour, rather than in the middle, had it not been for her speaking voice which was clearly quite hoarse after performing almost nightly since the end of January.

Compared to performances earlier in her career, like at the Winnipeg Folk Festival in 2008, Bulat has gone far to strengthen her presence on stage. No longer shy and nervous during solos, she is as comfortable as if the stage is her second home. The smooth transitions between instruments – at this concert, ukulele, piano, autoharp, guitar, and a 95-year-old hammered harp – and song tempo demonstrate that Bulat, over the past three years, has done well to master her craft.

Yet in spite of her increased confidence and fame, Bulat remains a humble performer who is conscious of her audience and genuinely surprised to get song requests from the crowd – especially in Polish: she ended the night with an encore performance of To Nie Ptak, a Polish song loosely translated as It’s Not A Bird, which resonated gorgeously throughout the theatre despite her autoharp’s broken string.

After the show, Bulat, a first-generation Canadian from Polish parents, confirmed rumours that she’s planning to release an all-Polish album, but perhaps not for her next major recording. Despite assurance from her family, Bulat wants to improve her Polish pronunciation and possibly stake out recording studios in Poland before committing to the project.

Heart of My Own is in all indie-supportive stores now.

Download Gold Rush from the new album for FREE here.

Still the forest nymph, with a bigger voice to boot: Basia Bulat's Heart of My Own

Photo credit

When I first saw Basia Bulat, she was dancing around in the middle of a forest with gypsies, bears, and skeletons.

That music video for her song In the Night is what initially drew attention to Bulat’s indie-folk stylings. Then, Little Waltz was used in a TV ad for the Australian Volkswagen Eos and her name began popping up all over the Internet. In 2008, her very first album, Oh, My Darling, featuring those two songs, made the long list, and subsequently the short list, for the Polaris Music Prize.

As such, the February 2010 release of Bulat’s second album, Heart of My Own (which I happily got for free - thanks CBC Radio 2 Drive!), was met with much anticipation across Canada and Europe.

Heart of My Own takes a step in a slightly different direction from Oh, My Darling. Its opening number, Go On, begins with a galloping guitar that builds to a flurry of instrumentation, similar to Oh My Darling’s I Was A Daughter, but Bulat’s vocals have a notable change.

No longer does she consistently keep her voice at a quietly intimate, controlled level, but loosens the reigns a little, belting out her choruses with hearty gusto (adding intensity to the exuberant Gold Rush, and the lyrically bold Walk You Down), possibly a style aquired after honing her chops over two years of touring, which included the Winnipeg Folk Festival in 2008.

This, combined with an increase of backing musicians (playing trumpets, organs, and french horns, among other things) on more tracks gives Heart of My Own a fuller, more complex sound.

Bulat lost her voice recording Oh, My Darling, which is probably why that first album sounds soft and reserved compared to the almost orchestra-like power that appears on Heart of My Own.

That’s not to say the album doesn’t have its share of quaint tunes mixed in with the rollicking ones. Those who liked Little Waltz or A Secret on Oh, My Darling will be pleased to hear Bulat’s lone voice sing out sweetly and pleasantly under-accompanied in Sugar and Spice, Sparrow, and I’m Forgetting Everyone.

Those who’ve kept up-to-date on Bulat since Oh, My Darling’s release will find that three of the unreleased songs that’ve been floating around on the Internet have made it onto this newest release: Sugar and Spice (from her self-titled EP), The Shore, and the title track, Heart of My Own; the latter two with some minor changes.

I’m not usually one to criticize when the songs I’ve heard as live, unreleased, or demo recordings sound different when they eventually make it onto an official album. After all, songs evolve as they’re played, adjustments are made in the studio, and sometimes feedback from the audience all contribute to the final sound put on the album.

But when I heard the beginning chords of Heart of My Own on this newest recording, I was shocked to hear it played out on guitar as opposed to Bulat’s signature autoharp.

I’ve heard said song once on a fantastic unreleased track (get it here, under its then "untitled" status), and twice live, with all three performances featuring the autoharp’s warm strumming which gives the song a much more unique and rich sound.

In fact, the lack of autoharp seems to be indicative to the album as a whole. For an artist who’s notable for her use of the instrument (indeed, she was featured on NPR about “making the autoharp cool”) it surprisingly appears on only 3 of Heart of My Own’s 12 tracks – and on 2 of those 3, its very nearly drowned out by accompanying instruments.

What remains consistent across Bulat’s albums, however, is the honest, often poetic nature of her lyrics (thankfully this time we get a booklet for moments when the pace becomes hurried) and delightful melodies.

From the pleading lines of Sparrow (“the horns and shells you’ve gathered here/One day, the one you battle might be me”) to the simple chorus of Run, Bulat mixes words and music with incredible talent worthy of some great composer, but sings them like the smiling forest nymph she is.

Basia Bulat plays this Thursday at the West End Cultural Centre.

Tickets $15