Showing posts with label McMichael Canadian Art Collection. Show all posts
Showing posts with label McMichael Canadian Art Collection. Show all posts

15 November 2019

JOY IN OIL: MAUD LEWIS AT THE MCMICHAEL GALLERY

Exhibition Reviews | Mary Wallace



Summer Scene with Cows (detail), oil on board. (Photograph Courtesy of Mary Wallace) 
I visited the McMichael Gallery’s Maud Lewis show on Thanksgiving weekend with my parents, this kind of wholesome excursion seems fitting for Lewis’s work. Lewis (1903-1970) is one of Canada’s best known folk artists and female painters and this exhibition features some rarely seen works from private collections in Nova Scotia, mostly small oil paintings as well as some painted shuttlers and Christmas decorations.

Despite the lifelong struggle with rheumatoid arthritis that limited her mobility, Lewis began painting and drawing at an early age, creating Christmas cards and paintings to sell at roadsides. Most of her work was made in the one room house she shared with her husband Everett Lewis in Marshalltown, Nova Scotia, which she covered completely in hand-painted designs. Lewis’s life was marked with tragedy, but looking at her paintings you would never know it. The artwork and the exhibition itself radiate joy and enthusiasm with their bright blocks of colour and whimsical subject matter. One of the things I appreciated about this exhibition was that, while it did not shy away from the illness and poverty that affected Lewis’s life, it did not focus on those aspects either. In fact, the gallery’s stated purpose for the exhibition is to present Lewis’s work as objects of aesthetic and artistic value and not merely as artifacts of tragedy.

These works, while unconventional in style, are of certainly of aesthetic value. This snow laden pine tree painted on glass, for example, shows us Lewis’s unique use of thick unblended paint.
Winter Scene, oil on glass. (Photograph Courtesy of Mary Wallace) 

Winter Scene (detail). (Photograph Courtesy of Mary Wallace)

This cow grazing in a summer field conveys wonderful depth despite the flat application of colour.
Untitled (Cow and Apple Blossoms - Bear River), 1950s, oil on board. (Photograph Courtesy of Mary Wallace)

More than just technical skill Lewis’s work creates a unique atmosphere, the feeling that each piece has been created with a loving hand. These paintings have an undeniable sincerity and humour to them, I don’t think I have ever smiled so much at an exhibition.

How could one not smile looking at this frowning cat?
White Cat, 1965/1966, oil on Beaverboard. (Photograph Courtesy of Mary Wallace)

I left this exhibition ready to go home and start painting. Some of you reading this may look at these pictures and think to yourselves “I could do that”, if that’s the case, I encourage you to do so. If Maud Lewis shows us anything it is the uplifting power of bringing something joyful into existence; if you are an I-could-do-that person then by all means get to it, that’s what Maud would have done.
Untitled (Butterflies), early 1960s, oil on board. (Photograph Courtesy of Mary Wallace)

Maud Lewis at the McMichael Gallery runs from June 29, 2019 to January 5, 2020, free with the price of admission (completely free if you bring your OMA card).

15 April 2019

DECOLONIZING THE MUSEUM: ALUMNI CHECK-IN WITH CAROL PODEDWORNY

Alumni Check-In | Elizabeth Cytko


Carol Podedworny
Photo courtesy of Nadezhda Lyra

Carol Podedworny is the Director and Chief Curator at McMaster Museum of Art. She graduated from the Museum Studies program in 1984 and got a Master of Arts from York University in 1990. She has worked tirelessly to make space for Indigenous voices within museum institutions and to promote critical scholarship for Indigenous art.

What is your favourite memory from your time in the MMSt program?

I would say the internship, we were given the opportunity to do internships at various cultural institutions in the Summer term. I worked for the McMichael Canadian Collection, the AGO, and the ROM.

Internships were an opportunity to have hands-on practical experience of things that we were learning through lectures in the classroom and to tangibly contribute to the work that was being done in cultural organizations. You also had the opportunity to meet colleagues in the field. So for many reasons, it was a really great experience.

Can you tell me about your path to becoming Director and Chief curator of McMaster?

For the most part, after I finished Museum Studies, I worked as a curator. It wasn't until I went to the University of Waterloo in 2006, that I became a Director, actually Director/Curator. I think that's one of the things about our field that needs attention, there isn't a great deal of succession planning. For the most part, many of us who end up as directors actually started our careers as curators.

What do you think could be done in the field to improve succession planning?

I think there could be mentoring opportunities within institutions and that there could be formal training programs provided elsewhere. I know there's an excellent program for training museum directors in the United States, but we don’t have a similar program here. I've been pretty fortunate at McMaster as it has an incredible continuing education program and developing, leading, and managing people is part of that program. At the museum, I look at the senior curator position as an opportunity to mentor that person towards potentially being the next director.

When you graduated from the program, was it a lot of contract work?


No, but I think that is a condition of the year in which I graduated. The amount of competition within the City of Toronto for any kind of employment was pretty high. So I made the decision that I would look beyond the city to find employment. I was subsequently hired as the curator of the Thunder Bay Art Gallery. That was a pretty significant opportunity for me. At the time, the institution was called the Thunder Bay National Exhibition Center and Center for Indian Art. They had within their permanent collection a long term loan from the Canadian Museum of History (which was then called the Canadian Museum of Civilization (CMC)). I didn't just have the opportunity to work in Thunder Bay and work with the collection, but also with the CMC's collection. Thunder Bay was an important move as it offered opportunities to work at the Thunder Bay Art Gallery, with partner institutions across the country, with contemporary First Nations art, and with funding opportunities in the north which rivaled those in the south. Many doors were opened in taking that position in 1984 that have stayed with me for my entire career.

What are some of the greatest risks you have taken in your career?

I think going to Thunder Bay was a risk. I got there in the fall of 1984. I don't know if you have talked about 1988 and the museum community in Canada in your classes, but 1988 was when the Glenbow Spirit Sings controversy occurred – it resulted in a crisis in museum practice internationally such that our work in the community was changed forever. It was a pretty volatile period, it was an exercise in negotiating and I would say it was risky, for sure. On the other hand all these years later, it's actually the reason why I argued for a position for an Indigenous curator in our museum today. When we hired Rhéanne Chartrand, three years ago, there were only three other permanent Indigenous curators in the country: at the AGO, the NGC, and the McKenzie Art Gallery (an arm of the Saskatchewan First Nations University).

By hiring an Indigenous curator has your institution been able to tackle new issues with a new point of view?

What I have found most interesting is not the collecting of Indigenous art nor the exhibition of Indigenous art, but Rhéanne’s commitment to decolonize the institution through day to day practices within the museum. It's a big issue for her, it’s something she came here saying, ‘I need to think about how I place myself in this colonial institution, and within the broader context of McMaster University – also a colonial institution.’ Our curator has put forward a ten page document with supporting documents, such as from the TRC, etc. That change, I would argue, is what's going to change the institution.

Is there one thing you could point to as a big shift in the museum culture and your institution?

I would say decolonization is our current focus and concern. The fact that there is an Indigenous voice in the museum speaking on behalf of Indigenous peoples is important. For Rhéanne, her approach is always informed by her sense of responsibility to her community. I would say this is something that's evolving, we're transitioning to it. I think that it may take years to achieve.

What is one of your failures that was a great learning experience?

I had written an article that was essentially an excerpt of my M.A. thesis, First Nations Art & the Canadian Mainstream, in a Canadian art magazine. I was then invited as a speaker to the National Gallery of Canada’s Land, Spirit, Power symposium documenting the 1992 Columbus Quin-centenary. When you're at university you're able to really examine a topic. As I was examining an early history of exhibitions of Aboriginal art in Canada, I found ample evidence of the exclusion and ghettoizing of Indigenous art, artists, and artistic practices. In my article I had named individuals who had been working at an earlier time and how their practices had caused issues within the representation of First Nations work in the modern art museum. I was shocked and appalled and looking for a reason beyond flat out racism, to explain why Indigenous work in Canada had been dealt with as it had in museums and art museums. Unfortunately, what I took to be “the facts” meant that I named institutions and exhibitions in my talk at the NGC – of course people took exception! If I had that incident to do over today, I would be much more careful about how I said things. I would say that was a failure, on the other hand, naming and calling out, matters. Today more so than ever before.

You have held many leadership roles, what is your advice for being a great leader?

I think it makes a big difference if you encourage the people who are working with you to be the experts in their area, no micro-managing. Also, allowing people to do well and providing opportunities for professional development matters. You want people to be happy in their work. You want everyone to know and be working towards the same goal. I find here at the museum, that everybody knows what we're working towards, and everybody takes particular pride in what their area contributes to the overall goals of the institution.

What advice would you give to museum professionals entering the sector today?


What I have always said, and firmly believe, is that we are working in a huge country with a very tiny cultural community, relatively speaking. I believe that no matter where you are in your career – in school, just finished, in a first job, doing an internship or volunteer work, wherever you are working, whomever you are working with now – you will absolutely run into them again in your future if you continue to work in the cultural community in this country. Find mentors, find people you respect and enjoy and stay connected! You will come across one another again – for sure!


8 March 2019

MAKING MUSINGS PART 3: THINGS I LEARNED WHILE EDITING MUSINGS

Letter from the EditorNatania Sherman


This is the third post of a five part series in celebration of the Master of Museum Studies program at the University of Toronto's 50th anniversary (MMSt50). To reflect on Musings' past, present, and future, we invited all previous Editors-in-Chief to return to Musings to write special Letter from the Editor posts. These articles will highlight the significance of Musings both within the MMSt program, and for writers' professional careers. Natania Sherman was the third Editor-in-Chief of Musings from 2016-2017.

It’s been a few minutes Lovely Musings’ Readers! I bet you weren’t expecting to see me here again! I am honoured to contribute an article for MMSt50. Aaaaaand a little intimidated to be following two amazing former EIC’s (who just happen to be two of my #GLAM industry girl-crushes). I hope I can do Madeline and Jaime proud by sharing some of my experiences during and after my time as the 2016-2017 Musings' Editor-in-Chief.

The Musings Panel at the 2017 iSchool Conference. L to R: Musings writers Kristen McLaughlin, Erika Robertson, Natania Sherman, and Chris Wai. Photo courtesy of Anja Hamilton.

I knew I wanted to write for Musings as early as my orientation at the iSchool. But I didn’t know what I was getting into when I ran for Musings EIC, until I was suddenly standing in front of a room of 21 expectant student writers all looking to me to train and support them. No pressure, right?

In 2016, the blog was at the crossroads between being an upstart student blog and a professional industry platform. The number of contributing editors had quadrupled, and the blog was gaining attention from industry professionals both locally and internationally. The increased attention meant that editing was a constant pressure! Correcting spelling and grammar is hard enough. I also responded to external copyright questions, scheduled a variety of museological content, and coached writers on how to get the most impact with each article.

OMA Conference Selfies, L-R: Anja Hamilton, Kate Seally, Natania Sherman and Emily Berg.
Photo courtesy of Natania Sherman.

Balancing the blog, school, and my 3 jobs, meant that I was always juggling different priorities. With a team of 21 contributing editors, I was reliant on Musings’ roster of volunteers. I was so grateful that my cohort committed to producing exciting content. Editing Musings taught me that a group of people with a passion for what they do can produce something much greater than what I could do on my own.

Some of my proudest moments as Musings’ EIC were attending the Ontario Museum Association (OMA) Conference in 2016, sharing an article recapping the experience, and leading our own panel discussion about Musings at the iSchool Conference in 2017. These experiences highlighted how writing for Musings could develop connections between students and professionals. The iConference opened up lots of interesting discussions about the future of Musings. Imagine a Musings podcast or Youtube channel, more press opportunities, more outreach to industry professionals. Your academic workload is your only limit, future EIC’s!

I’m also extremely proud of a column I created called She’s My Muse dedicated to women in museums. This project gave me an outlet for my feminist values and it’s been exciting to see that after I graduated some students have chosen to re-interpret the byline. Many writers in my cohort were able to push the boundaries of their chosen bylines in very creative ways ranging from developing an interactive conservation flowchart to writing a three part series examining the conservation issues around the Dakota Access Pipeline. I’m glad I was able to foster an environment where writers could be their most creative selves, and I gained so much knowledge on a range of subjects by reading their work. I hope that you, Lovely Readers, feel the same!

Since graduating from the iSchool, I have have worked in collections management, first at the McMichael Canadian Art Collection and currently, as Collections and Services Manager at the TIFF Film Reference Library where I manage library operations and over-85 special collections. Unlike my Musings predecessors, I no longer write for social media professionally. However, the skills I gained from Musings have helped my career. Editing Musings was a crash course in writing for an audience. Although I rarely use social media at work, I do write annual reports, prepare project pitches, publish artifact descriptions to the web, and correspond with my colleagues. Musings has a niche audience of graduate students and museum professionals, and I spent most of 2016-2017 thinking about what kind of writing voice could best engage that audience. After a year of focusing on writing for the Musings’ audience, it became much easier to engage with different “audiences” such as senior staff and board members in the workplace.

Becoming the Editor-in-Chief for Musings also prepared me for taking on management positions in cultural organizations. At Musings, I had the difficult role of being in a mentorship position with my peers while also learning “on the job” myself. Turns out, coaching Musings writers was the ideal practice for coaching interns and direct reports in the workplace. When I made the transition to leadership, I already had some experience knowing when to ask my colleagues the hard questions and when a strategic coffee outing was necessary (answer: always, coffee is essential). I learned that management is not about already knowing the answers, but about learning as you go and being willing to listen to your colleagues.

Source.
I want to end my article by thanking the faculty and staff at the iSchool. Musings was my outlet and my community during the 2 years of my graduate degree and I’m so grateful that the iSchool fostered student initiatives like Musings. Here’s to another 50 years of the MMSt program!

8 December 2017

HOW CAN WE REMEMBER ANNIE POOTOOGOOK?

SHE'S MY MUSE

BY: KATHLEEN LEW

Annie Pootoogook, Bringing Home Food, 2003-2004. Photo courtesy of Kathleen Lew (2017) at the McMichael Canadian Art Collection.
I first discovered the art of Annie Pootoogook in 2015, during an undergraduate Indigenous Art History course at Queen’s University. I was immediately drawn to her honest depictions of life in the North, whether it was watching television, eating with family, exploring her sexuality, or drawing experiences of abuse and addiction. I wrote my course paper on Pootoogook and her contentious place in both understandings of Inuit authenticity, and contemporary art.

Following my initial research, I came across articles about Annie’s life in Ottawa, but felt uncomfortable reading her struggles as headlines. Reporters were intruding on the artist’s personal life, and I was torn about how to interact with her career. When Annie was found dead in the Rideau River in September of 2016, I witnessed how my surrounding community mourned the loss of the artist. This was most visible through a student article in the Queen’s Journal, and statements from the Agnes Etherington Art Centre, who had shown a solo exhibition of Pootoogook in 2011.

Years later, I am still grappling with my admiration and knowledge of Pootoogook’s art. This time, it is in the context of a masters course on Museums and Indigenous Communities at the University of Toronto, and a visit to the first retrospective exhibition of Pootoogook since her death, McMichael Canadian Art Collection's Annie Pootoogook: Cutting Ice, curated by Nancy Campbell.

The same question remains as it did a year ago: How can I remember Annie Pootoogook?

There are many perspectives, including voices from the Kinngait community, Pootoogook’s colleagues in Toronto, art historians, and the press. Remembering is an active process, and like her art, we should honour Pootoogook within her complexities. It is impossible to approach Pootoogook's career just from her drawings, her biography, her womanhood, her place in the Canadian art world, or the larger systemic oppression of Inuit peoples in Canada. We must understand how these approaches intersect. 

Annie Pootoogook, Red Bra, 2006. Photo courtesy of Kathleen Lew (2017) at the McMichael Canadian Art Collection.
Remembering Poootoogook as a great Canadian artist is one step, but I think there can be more action. We can ask how to remember Pootoogook, and continually improve these methods of remembering. By framing her legacy as a question, we can grapple with the significance of her life and work over time.

So here is my working list, one that will inevitably change. My attempt to answer the question—how can we remember Annie Pootoogook? The following list is what I have learned from Annie, and what I can continue to learn through her art.

1) See beauty and significance in the mundane. 

Annie Pootoogook, Ritz Crackers, 2004. Photo courtesy of Kathleen Lew (2017) at the McMichael Canadian Art Collection. 
Pootoogook drew life in Cape Dorset, showing viewers the simplicity of moments at home, and the significance of everyday objects. It could be ingredients for making Bannock, a box of Ritz crackers, a pair of scissors, or her grandmother’s glasses—all were given importance and care. Pootoogook demonstrates the value of documenting tradition, the present, and how they work together.

“Annie’s work is very different. Annie’s work is, like today and yesterday and…daily happenings, shopping, music, the feast. Sometimes she will draw very hurt feelings from her heart which she’s not afraid to say on paper.” – Jimmy Manning, manager at Kinngait Studios 

2) Create to heal. 

Annie Pootoogook, Memory of My Life: Breaking Bottles, 2001-2002, Photo Courtesy of Kathleen Lew (2017) at the McMichael Canadian Art Collection. 
Pootoogook’s drawings of anguish communicate Indigenous realities of addiction, mental illness, and violence. By drawing her memories on paper, Pootoogook could begin to make sense of her experiences from a distance. At the same time, these depictions force viewers to confront the hardships of Inuit communities.

“It seems that I throw that shit out of my mind and start drawing. Well, drawing makes me feel better… better a lot than before.” -Annie Pootoogook

3) Embrace sexuality. 

Annie Pootoogook, Woman at Her Mirror (Playboy Pose), 2003. Photo courtesy of Kathleen Lew (2017) at the McMichael Canadian Art Collection. 
Pootoogook was unafraid to depict the body, using drawing to explore herself and her relationships. Through art, Pootoogook legitimizes female and Indigenous sexuality, challenging the viewer’s discomfort of gender and sexual identities that are considered "other". 

4) Support and celebrate our family, friends, and communities. 

Annie Pootoogook, Pitseolak Drawing with Two Girls on her Bed (detail), 2006. Photo courtesy of Kathleen Lew (2017) at the McMichael Canadian Art Collection. 
Pootoogook’s practice was largely influenced by her family and her community. Pootoogook continually celebrated Pitseolak’s influence in her drawings, signified by her grandmother's black-rimmed glasses. Pootoogook’s career began with support from the Kinngait Studio, an artist community that creates prints for the Inuit art market. Pootoogook used the influence of her ancestors and community to chronicle her own surroundings and experiences.

5) Listen to contemporary Inuit voices. 

Annie Pootoogook, Dr. Phil, 2006. Photo courtesy of Kathleen Lew (2017) at the McMichael Canadian Art Collection. 
Pootoogook challenged assumptions of Kinngait as a pure, untouched North. She demonstrated the presence of Western influence, and the unique hybrid identities of Inuit artists. Nancy Campbell works to include community voices with Cutting Ice, exhibiting artists influenced by Pootoogook, such as Ohotaq Mikkigak, Siassie Kenneally, Shuvinai Ashoona, Itee Pootoogook, and Jutai Toonoo. Supporting contemporary Inuit art provides an awareness of Inuit realities, and further expands conceptions of Canadian art. 

6) Challenge Western art historical categories. 

Annie Pootoogook, Gossip, 2006. Photo courtesy of Kathleen Lew (2017) at the McMichael Canadian Art Collection 

Pootoogook’s drawings are both familiar and foreign, making them difficult to classify within a Western art world. Her mixing of cultures creates instability, as Southern viewers connect with aspects of contemporary life, while simultaneously feeling isolated from Inuit tradition. Pootoogook’s career broke the glass ceiling for Inuit art, insisting that Inuit, female, and contemporary identities can exist simultaneously.

7) Question how we depict Indigenous artists in the media.

How is art world fame constructed, and how does it affect the artists on display? 

Annie Pootoogook, Sobey Award, 2006. Photo courtesy of Kathleen Lew (2017) at the McMichael Canadian Art Collection. 
Pootoogook winning the Sobey Art Award in 2006 provided opportunity for the artist’s career, while also profoundly influencing her approach to the art world. The press’ invasive treatment of Pootoogook’s struggles with alcoholism and homelessness leading up to her death demonstrate the importance of representing artists with honesty and dignity.

Who creates fame for artists? For what audience? Where is the distinction between an artist’s work and their personal life?

8) Understand Pootoogook’s death within a larger context of gender-based violence.

Annie Pootoogook, Man Abusing his Partner, 2002. Photo courtesy of Kathleen Lew (2017) at the McMichael Canadian Art Collection.
While the cause of Pootoogook’s death is unknown, it is important to acknowledge the thousands of missing and murdered Indigenous women in Canada. Pootoogook’s gender and cultural identity intersect with her experiences of violence. Sexual violence was a reality in Pootoogook’s life and art. Pootoogook’s death is a reminder that communities are continually fighting to stop violence against Indigenous women.

9) Acknowledge colonial violence and work towards reconciliation. 

Annie Pootoogook, Begging for Money, 2006. Photo courtesy of Kathleen Lew (2017) at the McMichael Canadian Art Collection.
Pootoogook’s drawings of contemporary struggles in Cape Dorset, and her experiences living in Ottawa and Montreal, demonstrate the continual existence of colonial violence. The systemic oppression of Indigenous peoples persists in Canada. Colonial oppression is something that needs to be addressed both locally and nationally. Like Pootoogook's legacy, reconciliation is an active process, as we work towards more equitable relationships.

10) Act with the belief that we can be better.

Annie Pootoogook, Composition (Happy Woman), 2003-2004. Photo courtesy of Kathleen Lew (2017) at the McMichael Canadian Art Collection.
Pootoogook took many risks throughout her career and embraced opportunities to further her practice. She exhibited work in Toronto, completed the Glenfiddich Residency in Scotland, exhibited at Documenta 12 in Germany, and experimented with individual objects and cinematic scale. Pootoogook did not limit her art-making to Western perceptions of Inuit or contemporary art, and neither should we. There is always more to learn.

I encourage you to visit the McMichael before Cutting Ice closes in February. Confront your own understandings of Annie Pootoogook and contemporary Inuit art. Explore how you will remember Annie, and keep questioning long past when you leave the gallery.

15 July 2017

REMEMBERING TOM THOMSON: A CENTURY LATER

WEEKEND EDITION

BY: EMILY WELSH

This past weekend was the 100th anniversary of the death of Tom Thomson, beloved Canadian artist to many and friend to those who would later form the Group of Seven. Now, perhaps beloved is not quite strong enough of a word to describe my admiration of Thomson and his art. In 2010 I visited the Art Gallery of Ontario (AGO) with my family for the very first time. Although we were there to see the King Tut exhibition currently on display, many of my strongest and fondest memories of the trip are of the long moments spent admiring paintings by Tom Thomson. I remember seeing The West Wind, thinking about how close I was to the real painting and being astounded at it not being behind glass.

A day of firsts: visiting the AGO, viewing Egyptian artifacts, and admiring original Tom Thomson paintings. Photo courtesy of Emily Welsh.

However, it was not only my admiration of Thomson's artistic style that centered him as my favourite artist, but also his life story and deep connection to Algonquin Park. Growing up in Bancroft, Ontario, and learning about the locations Thomson painted, I grew emotionally attached to his works as they depicted scenes so close to my hometown and of the landscape I knew so well and loved so much.

Born in Claremont, Ontario in 1877, Thomson attended night school at the Central Ontario School of Art and Industrial Design in 1906 after first working as a commercial artist in Seattle. He went on to work as a commercial artist for Grip Limited where he met J.E.H MacDonald, one of the future founding members of the Group of Seven. Thomson would later become friends with other future members of the Group, embark on trips into Ontario's wilderness, and develop the signature style we know him for today. In the last years of his life, Thomson lived in Algonquin Park from spring to fall and spent the winter months in a shack he rented behind the Studio Building at 25 Severn Street. Thomson would produce small painted sketches in the field and produce larger paintings when back in Toronto.  

Tom Thomson. Algonquin Park. 1914 - 1916. Source: Library and Archives Canada.

On July 8th, 1917, just shy of his 40th birthday, Tom Thomson drowned at Canoe Lake in Algonquin Park. His body was found six days later. Officially, it was ruled accidental drowning, but the mystery and theories live on today. The Twitter account recreating Thomson's last months gives eight possible fates including accident, suicide, and murder. A recent exhibition, The Persistence of Doubt, at the Tom Thomson Art Gallery likewise explored the fate of Tom Thomson - his death and the whereabouts of his remains - with artist Markowsky including sketches of possible scenarios for Thomson's death. The video below was played in the exhibition (Warning: very brief nudity):


    
Exactly 100 years after Thomson's death, people gathered at Canoe Lake to commemorate the anniversary. Likewise, both the Algonquin Art Centre and the Algonquin Park Visitor Centre have current exhibitions marking the centennial of Thomson's death. The Algonquin Art Centre also unveiled their Tom Thomson Legacy Path this summer.

I too wished to observe the anniversary of Thomson's death, and this past Saturday I visited the Art Gallery of Ontario (AGO). I admired his skill and the beauty of his paintings, but I didn't feel as much emotional impact as I expected. Perhaps this was due to my frequent viewings of the works; since starting my Master's degree at the iSchool, I have been able to visit the AGO more frequently and each trip I make sure to stop by the Canadian Collection. Perhaps the lack of seeing or learning something new was at the root of this response. However, I did feel tinges of sadness and had moments of contemplation seeing the scenes of Canoe Lake among his paintings.

One of my favourite pieces by Thomson on display at the AGO; After the Sleet Storm truly captures the bowing limbs of trees after an ice storm, drawing upon my memories of Ontario winters. Photo courtesy of Emily Welsh.

On Sunday I caught the “Art Bus” and headed out to the McMichael Canadian Art Collection in Kleinburg. The McMichael was hosting a “Remembering Tom Thomson” event with a variety of activities on Saturday and Sunday, including free admission to the gallery. I was especially excited for the trip as it was my first time visiting and a chance to see Tom Thomson pieces I had never seen before.

First and foremost, I was fixated on the idea of seeing Tom Thomson's shack; I had my eyes peeled for it as we drove up the driveway and walked up to the gallery. The once deteriorating shack was purchased by the McMichael founders, transported and reconstructed on the gallery's grounds. Today the shack acts as a studio for the McMichael's artist in residence and allows visitors to see the shack brought to life. Although it was closed upon my visit, peeking through the windows I thought about Thomson living and painting in this small space and began to feel closer to the artist. 
Tom Thomson Shack on the grounds of the McMichael Canadian Art Collection. Photo courtesy of Emily Welsh.

Inside the gallery, the McMichael’s temporary exhibit, Passion over Reason: Tom Thomson & Joyce Wieland, provided me the opportunity to learn many new things about Thomson and his art. Some of his early paintings were on display, featuring styles I had never known he used and of subject matter I've rarely seen in his landscape paintings, namely portraits. There was even a display of photographs taken by Thomson himself!

One of the pieces I found most powerful in the exhibition was a palette used by Tom Thomson. The intersection of art and history prompted me to think more about how these art pieces were created. The exhibition as whole also prompted me to think about Thomson in a new light by presenting his works alongside those of Joyce Weiland and asking visitors to think critically about how we create national icons.

A palette used by Tom Thomson. On display in Passion over Reason at McMichael Canadian Art Collection. Photo courtesy of Emily Welsh.
For me, I will likely remember this anniversary by the new experiences I had and the additional insight I gained into a beloved artist. Perhaps that is how we as museum professionals should treat these anniversaries: as opportunities to not only revisit what we know and love about an individual or time, but to push our audiences to think and explore more deeply the someone or something that they love.