UPCOMING ONLINE EVENTS TO KEEP YOU INSPIRED

Friday Special | Erika Serodio

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As Toronto settles into this new phase of pandemic lockdown, we hope you're finding ways to stay engaged and inspired in the museum world. Here are a few free events you can attend from home in the coming weeks. Stay strong, friends. There are so many real world museum experiences waiting for us on the other side. In the meantime...

Saturday, November 28th, 6:00 to 8:00 PM — Beyond the Block: A Celebration

The final event in a digital series presented by the Toronto Ward Museum will feature live music, spoken word performances, a live trivia game, and video storytelling.

Register here

Toronto Sculpture Garden | Source

Tuesday, December 1st, 1:15 to 3:00 PM —Becoming Public Art: Temporary Programming

After a historical presentation on the Toronto Sculpture Garden, major voices in temporary public art programming will discuss the significance of the project and its impact on projects that came after it.

Register here



Wednesday, December 2nd, 1:00 to 2:00 PM —Where is the love? 

The Oxford Research Centre in the Humanities (TORCH) has brought three artists and researchers together to discuss the exhibition Losing Venus. Through this exhibition, they will consider how ethnographic museum collections can bring emotion, intimacy, care, and love into their work. 

Register here



Thursday, December 3rd, 7:30 to 9:00 PM — A Virtual “Music in the Museum”

The American University Museum at the Kaizen Arts Centre will be live streaming an iconic bytebeat duo performance between Washington, DC and Toronto.

Register here



Friday, December 4th, 9:00 to 10:00 PM — DISplace Curator’s Talk

The Five Oaks Museum provides a platform for culturally embedded storytelling with this conversation between curators who will share personal stories alongside the research of this online exhibition.

Register here



Sunday, December 6th, 4:00 to 5:00 PM — Counter Attack: Artists and Curators Creating Change

New Wave brings together four artists and curators to discuss the roles they play in challenging dominant cultural narratives and institutional practices. 

Register here

Abstract Work by Rothko | Source

Tuesday, December 8th, 7:00 to 8:00 PM — Driven to Abstraction: A Panel Discussion on Art & Authenticity in Practice

Join what is sure to be a lively discussion with art world experts who will discuss the recent documentary Driven to Abstraction which looks at an $80 million forgery scandal in a New York City gallery.

Register here



Friday, December 11th, 9:00 to 11:00 AM — Museums and Digital Culture after the Pandemic

This online symposium will look at how museums adapted to changes during the pandemic and what the new future of digital will look like in museums after the pandemic.

Register here

FREE UPCOMING TALKS AND EVENTS THAT ARE (SHOCKINGLY) ONLINE

 Friday Special | Erika Serodio

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Lately, I’ve been trying to think about those things that were hard in a pre-pandemic world and are easier now. Things like commuting to class in the morning, spending all afternoon working in the library, and then really dreading that evening workshop or lecture I had previously added to my agenda. Sometimes I would just call it a day and go home instead of attending. I promise myself that when this is all over, I’m never going to be home again. Catch me at every social engagement, evening lecture, etc. etc., forever, for the rest of my life, cross my heart and hope to die. But until then, I’m telling myself, isn’t it nice that after a long day of sitting at my desk, I can curl up on my couch with a bowl of popcorn (glass of wine) and attend a lecture with outstanding museum professionals from all over the world? A past version of myself would have loved this. Current me – a silver lining. 

A Silver Lining | Source

Anyway, join me in making the most of this twisted world. And remember that if you make it to that zoom lecture, and you decide that A. you've been zooming enough lately, or B. it's not your thing, oops!  Technical difficulties! Back to Netflix. But I do hope you find something in this list that you enjoy. And I invite you to link to any other interesting events in the comments section. 

ETHEL and Friends: Balcony Bar from Home

Start your Friday night off right with the Met’s resident string quartet playing live in your living room:

Friday, October 23, 2020 (& every Friday for the rest of 2020)
5:00 PM – 5:30 PM EST
Free admission


Becoming Public Art: Working Models & Case Studies for Art in Public

Spend your Tuesday afternoons learning from industry experts on the forces shaping public art making today. Presented by the City of Markham and ART+PUBLIC UnLtd. 

October 13 to December 8, 2020
Every Tuesday from 1:30 PM – 3:00 PM EST
Free admission, Registration required


Rayyane Tabet / Alien Property: In Light of What We Know Now

Sit in on a conversation between Met curators and contemporary artist Rayyane Tabet as they consider how their perspectives on an exhibition have changed with respect to global events this past year. 

Wednesday, October 28, 2020
6 PM EST
Free admission, Registration required


ART CONNECTS | Fall Reading Session With Indigenous Brilliance

Join Afuwa, Emily Dundas Oke, Jónína Kirton, and Michelle Sylliboy for a poetic and artistic response to the Vancouver Art Gallery's current exhibition: Uncommon Language. 

Thursday, October 29, 2020
7 PM EST (4 PM PST)
Free admission

Innovate: Public Spaces with Silo Studio

Visit with a curator from the Victoria & Albert Museum and two London-based designers who focus on designing for community spaces. 

Tuesday, November 3, 2020

12 PM EST (5 PM UK)

Free admission

AGO Live: Brendan Fernandes: The Left Space

This choreographed performance will use the grid formation of zoom to connect a team of dancers from their homes around the world, while engaging with the language of protests in our current time of global political uprisings. An interview between the artist and curator will follow.

Friday, November 6, 2020
7 PM EST
Free admission, Registration required

THE UNEXPECTED AT UNDERPASS PARK

Beyond Tradition | Erika Serodio

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As the second wave case numbers climb all around me, I’m feeling more anxious about the upcoming winter that will largely be spent at home. I am not ready to be kept inside. Finding destinations and things to do where we feel both safe and excited is going to get harder. It’s a relief to see that Toronto museums have so far remained open, but it feels like we are all holding our breath. 

Farmers Market at Underpass Park | Source

Last night, the final farmers market of the season took place at Underpass Park, another sign of the end of the outdoor season. However, this unexpected outdoor art space will remain open. I have biked through Underpass Park once before, but I have not yet stopped to take it all in. I’ve been saving it, placed a bookmark on its page, for a day when I’m in need of inspiration and my indoor worlds have closed. I recommend you do the same.

Underpass Park by Rick Harris | Source

Underpass Park officially opened in Toronto in 2012. Before then, it was simply the space below the Eastern Ave, Richmond, and Adelaide Street overpasses. The 2.5 acre park was designed by Phillips Farevaag Smallenberg with the Planning Partnership as a project of Waterfront Toronto. The main intention of the project was to transform a derelict space into an active community hub. Since its inception, Underpass Park has hosted performances, skateboarding events, music videos, and dance routines. In 2016, the American Society of Landscape Architects recognized the achievements of the Underpass Park project with their Award of Excellence.

Mirage by Paul Raff | Source

In their design, the existing structure of the underpass was reimagined with specific lighting and artworks integrated throughout the site. The addition of programmed LED lights brightens the space in artistic ways while also providing a safer night time experience in the park. A notable artwork in the park is that of Toronto artist and architect, Paul Raff. His piece, titled Mirage, is made of 57 mirror-like panels suspended from the underside of the overpass. The public can interact with the piece by playing with their own hovering reflections. The ceilings created by the overpasses are unexpected places for art, but they also act as weather protection for the entire site. Graffiti is encouraged on the pillars throughout the park, but this is just one of the many ways that the site invites users to participate in the creation of public space. 

A PANDEMIC TIME CAPSULE

Beyond Tradition | Erika Serodio

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At the beginning of April, as the world I knew closed its doors, I read something that has stayed with me. George Saunders, an English professor at Syracuse University, wrote a letter to his students that was published in The New Yorker. In his letter, he described the pandemic as an event "where all of the drama is happening in private." He asked his students, urgently, “Are you keeping records of the e-mails and texts you’re getting, the thoughts you’re having, the way your hearts and minds are reacting to this strange new way of living?” The records you keep, Saunders advised them, will convince future generations of what happened to us.

Time Capsule | Source

This sentiment seems so important to me as I continue to question the future of museums. I wondered how this pandemic would be remembered by others in the future and around the world. And I wondered how the local experiences of this pandemic would be different from each other. How could museums foster this kind of remembering as the pandemic is happening? Especially while museum doors remained closed. The pandemic has forced so many of us to live moment to moment. It is not as easy as it sounds to record our feelings and fears right now.

Remember | Source

I recently came across a project designed by The Bentway. Their city-wide public art installation is a brilliant answer to George Saunders’ demand for records of the pandemic. The Bentway commissioned twenty Toronto artists to respond to the question: “What words are you living by right now?” The artists responded with illustrated words that were projected on billboards, painted on building walls, and plastered on trucks that drove through the city. The project is called #ItsAllRightNow. The next phase of the project asks the public to respond to the same question and submit their words. In 2021, these public submissions will be made into a new exhibition that will aim to help us remember Toronto’s psyche during this moment.

Artwork by Anne Michaels | Photograph by Marzena Pogorzaly | Source

How are you recording this moment? What would you put in a pandemic time capsule to explain this to future generations?

MUSEUMS OR NOT? PART 3: SUBWAY SERIES STOCKHOLM

Beyond Tradition | Joanna Wreakes

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This February I had the pleasure of visiting my sister who’s working in Stockholm for the year. In planning all the things we would do during the week, Instagram was a major tool. One Stockholm attraction kept popping up - the brightly coloured subway stations all throughout the city.

Stadion Station. Photo courtesy of Joanna Wreakes.

On top of regular commuting from my sister’s apartment into the city center, I planned to visit some  stations that my travels wouldn’t have taken me. During my subway-hopping tour there was such an interesting mix of people to be seen. There were plenty of other tourists, all on our own little self-guided tours, hopping off trains to wander the brightly painted cavernous stations, taking pictures for social media to prove that we were there. However, most of the people I saw were simply Stockholmers going about their daily business, seemingly unaffected that they were passing through “the world's longest art exhibit.”

Mörby Centrum Station. Photo courtesy of Joanna Wreakes.

The Art in the Subway project in Stockholm is not the only initiative that brings art installations into typically dreary subway stations, but it is arguably one of the widest-spread. Installations are found in over 90% of the subway stations, featuring works created starting in the 1950s by over 150 different artists.

Countless numbers of eager Instagrammers flock to the stations each day to get their snaps. The art in the subway is so popular that it’s even spurred its own hashtag - #subwayseries_sthlm (I would know, as I definitely used this hashtag on my own Instagram post of some of the stations I visited). “Subwaygrammers,” as they’re referred too, are made up of Stockholmers and tourists alike - and the photos seen are taken both in special visits and during daily commutes.

Despite the social media impact of Art in the Subway, it’s intriguing to think about the history. This project began in the 1950s, long before the advent of social media & “subwaygrammers”. While the brightly coloured installations make a great photo, I think they may serve another purpose: lightening up the winter blues. Notoriously dark and grey in the winter, in January Stockholm only gets around 6 hours of light each day, making these colourful subway stations more than just a great photo-op.

The author pictured in T-Centralen Station. Photo courtesy of Molly Wreakes.

"Tilted Arc" aka public art gone wrong (source).

While the discussion around public art is so often negative with complaints about wasted tax money or an inconveniencing of space (see: Richard Serra’s tilted arc), art in the subway is a refreshing site. Allowing commuters whimsical views during their travels, while generally being unobtrusive (save for tourists with selfie-sticks), the project allows all people a small glimpse into “the world's longest art exhibit” without even having to step foot into a traditional museum building.

MEMORY X MURALS

FLASHBACK FRIDAY

BY: CASARINA HOCEVAR

This summer I have been working with the Scarborough-based non-profit, Mural Routes, in documenting mural projects around the Greater Toronto Area into one comprehensive archive. Due to their rather temporal state - and the fact I haven’t lived in Toronto since its earliest commercial murals of the late 19th Century - creating a comprehensive archive of all the city’s murals has been a bit of tricky task. But it has also prompted some interesting reflections on how murals echo both private and public memories. This week’s Flashback Friday will unravel how local history is embedded in our city’s public artwork.

"Bomb Girls" by OMEN in collaboration with StreetARToronto and Mural Routes, near Warden x St. Clair East in Scarborough. 2014. Photo courtesy of Mural Routes. 

In many murals, especially those commissioned by the city or in partnerships with local BIA (Business Improvement Area), the themes and content of murals explicitly relay “heritage moments” or local legacies. A clear example of this can be found from the 1990s, when Mural Routes commenced their first series of murals along Kingston Road in Scarborough known as the Heritage Trail. Another example would be the several murals done by John Kuna for the Village of Islington BIA in Etobicoke from 2005 to 2014. These murals feature a range of characters and activities from Islington’s past, from families tobogganing to The Guelph Radial Line to local church communities. Such murals serve as tributes to the past, becoming a visual representation of collective community memories.

However, many of Toronto’s murals were not meant to be historical in nature, yet, their memory in the minds of local residents exist as landmarks of the city’s past. This is particularly evident amongst some of Toronto’s commercial murals. Until a few years ago, when the Church Street Mural Project added several new murals to the Church and Wellesley community, a large Molson Canadian advertisement was featured on Church Street as a mural known colloquially as The Gay Cowboys. Despite its obvious commercial purposes, the mural was recognized as a landmark in a generation of Toronto’s gay community. Recently, when Mural Routes’ held their archive exhibit at 389 Yonge St., several residents of the Church-Wellesley area shared their memories of the Gay Cowboys, revealing that in spite of its loss, the mural lingers in memory as part of the neighbourhood’s historical character.

Alternatively, many contemporary murals which aim to capture the diversity of Toronto’s communities (and perhaps, also tackle the lack of representation in Toronto’s public art) remind us of the multitude of intersecting communities that contribute to its vibrancy. For example, In July 2017, Parkdale held the event Women Paint, organized by Bareket Kezwer and StreetARToronto, where muralists came together to paint their unique and contrasting narratives of being womxn.

Congratulations to our friend @bkez and the 20 artists she brought together for #Womenpaintto! We are so lucky to know and work with these strong and talented women #Womenpaint #toronto #streetart #femaleartists #girlpower #Parkdale #laneway #transformation #thesix

A post shared by Mural Routes (@muralroutes) on Jul 17, 2017 at 9:19am PDT

Concurrently, other muralists, such as Philip Cote have been injecting the mural scene with art representing Indigenous history and culture. Last summer, Cote finished a mural near Old Mill Subway Station which illustrates Indigenous knowledge, that has been preserved through oral histories. Such projects are laced with narratives of the Toronto region, both contemporary and historical, which indeed beautifully draw attention to a multifaceted, complex urban identity that is often lost in the haze of gray buildings and in our hustling commutes.

#urbanart this mural is painted on the concrete below Bloor Street at Old Mill they were done by Indigenous artist Philip Cote #philipcote

A post shared by Steve Kerlovich (@dilettante.gallery) on Dec 2, 2017 at 3:52pm PST

Then, within the production and life of a mural, lies another source of memory. Some murals have become iconic features to Toronto, recognizable to city dwellers across demographics. The Rainbow Tunnel in the Don Valley Parkway (DVP) is an excellent example of this. Visible from the highway, a pedestrian tunnel is vibrantly painted as a rainbow - ensuring pass-byers of its visibility regardless of the time of year. First painted in the 1970s by Bc Johnson, community members came together to restore the mural in 2012-2013, thus, sharing in a collective effort to preserve its mural memory. This Saturday, June 16th, Mural Routes will be completing touch-ups on Rainbow Tunnel as maintenance.

Rainbow Tunnel undergoing its restoration in 2012-2013. Photos courtesy of Mural Routes' Archive.

While the intentions and longevity of murals differ greatly, they share a common connection to community memory. Murals engage audiences with their surroundings, provoke new ideas to recollect, and stir our consciousness of another time.

OBJECT OF THE WEEK: "TIME: AND A CLOCK" - PUBLIC ART ON QUEEN STREET EAST

BY KATHERINE HANNEMANN

One bright spring day not too long ago, a visitor to my east-end neighbourhood and I were strolling the streets, soaking up the sun and the sights of Riverside. As we walked over the Don River via the Queen Street East bridge, my companion gazed up at the inscription lining the top of the bridge, which reads, “This river I step in is not the river I stand in” in large metal letters along the width of the street. She asked me if I knew anything about the history or the meaning of the words. From crossing this bridge nearly every day, I’ve seen the inscription many times and have thought vaguely about its meaning as I’ve gone past. But I couldn’t speak to the history of the bridge or provide an adequate interpretation of the phrase’s significance. “Gee, I’m not sure what that’s all about” was my unimpressive response to my friend’s inquiry. Later, though, I felt a nagging responsibility as a neighbourhood resident to know more about the public art in my proverbial backyard, and so it launched further Riverside strolls and internet research on Toronto’s bridge art.

 

Queen Street East Bridge. Source: Iceland Penny

I discovered that the inscription is part of a larger permanent public art installation called “Time: And a clock” by Eldon Garnet. Along with the addition to the bridge (which was originally built in 1911), in 1995 Garnet installed this and two more pieces farther east on Queen that intend to provoke ruminations on time. At the intersection of Queen and Broadview, phrases of metal line the concrete street corners, reading “Distance = Velocity x Time,” “Too Soon Free from Time,” “Better Late than Never,” and “Time is Money: Money is Time.” Even farther east, in front of Jimmie Simpson Park, steel banners are part of the same installation, displaying the words “Coursing,” “Disappearing,” “Trembling,” “Returning.”

The corner of Queen and Broadview. Source: Plepuc.org

According to the artist, “Time: And a Clock” is “really about the flowing of time, the perpetual change of life and experiences.” Garnet additionally explains that you can’t experience the artwork in one moment; it is a process over a period of time to visit each site to get the whole picture of the installation. (Watch a short video here on Garnet explaining more on the three sites.) Time, like the mighty Don River that flows beneath the bridge, is constantly in motion, never standing still.

In my opinion, this approach to public art -- fragmented and spread throughout a neighbourhood yet comprising a whole -- is one way in which permanent public art brilliantly differs from temporary public art, which I discussed in my last Musings post. (Yes, I realize this is my second consecutive post on public art. I think it might just be that I'm excited to be outside again.) Though more subtly blended into the fabric of a neighbourhood, an artist can rely on the fact that residents and visitors may pass by countless times before reflecting on or uncovering the various meanings of the art, and indeed use this to develop the “timely” themes of the art. Streetcar riders may gaze at the inscription on the bridge as they pass below it, or walkers waiting at the corner may read the words on the ground as they wait for the Broadview light to change. Each time, they may think of something different, or notice a word they have never seen before.

Part of "Time: And a Clock" at Jimmie Simpson Park. Source: Plepuc 

The experience of noticing, examining, wondering about, and researching “Time: And a Clock” also has provoked me to reflect on how people have interacted with public art over time, especially in more recent years. While I have learned quite a bit in a short time on various blogs and short interviews on the internet, this is not the approach I would have taken in 1995 if I wanted to know more about “Time: And a Clock.” (Back then I think I would have been opening my first Netscape browser, and I somehow doubt there was a significant amount of information on public art installations to search for on Ask Jeeves.) In some ways, I wish I would have thought more about “Time: And a Clock” on my own, before Googling it to get its backstory. What would I have come up with on my own accord, before hearing directly from the artist what his intention was? Would I ever have put the three pieces together, given that there is not much visible explanation of the art on Queen Street?

Placard about "Time: And a Clock." Source: Toronto Grand Prix Tourist

Recognizing “Time: And a Clock” (without always consciously thinking about it) also has caused me to think about what makes public art iconic and part of a neighbourhood’s or a city’s landscape. (Although “Time: And a Clock” is a minor example of this, its image has become a symbol of sorts for Riverside.) I thought of more well-known examples, such as the Cloud Gate in Chicago or one of my hometown favourites, the Spoonbridge in Minneapolis. Did their public prominence make these sculptures instantly part of the skyline of these cities, or did it take time? Does anyone try to come up with the meaning of the Cloud Gate or Spoonbridge anymore, or do they just make people think, “Chicago,” or “Minneapolis”?

 

Millenium Park in Chicago. Source: Chicago Uncommon Pictures

Writing this post and thinking about “Time: And a Clock” makes me realize how many fascinating elements of my neighbourhood and city are right before my eyes, yet I walk by them everyday without even thinking twice about them. I’m trying to make more of an effort to get my head out of the clouds and make some connections about the little things I see and how they contribute to the fabric of the neighbourhood. I encourage you to do the same. What are the intriguing, crazy, funny, historical pieces of your neighbourhood that you’ve noticed recently (but have been there all along)?

OBJECT OF THE WEEK: "TOUCHING STRANGERS" PHOTOGRAPHY

BY KATHERINE HANNEMANN

With my summer internship now well underway, the job so far has presented not only new and exciting tasks and learning opportunities, but also a new -- and somewhat challenging -- commute to work. Every morning and afternoon I find myself along with (what seems like) several thousands of other people coping with the slog of traffic and streetcars on King Street, its pace most glacial between about Yonge and Spadina. But the trek hasn’t been all bad. Many minutes spent at a near stand-still on King Street have allowed me to get a good look at all the area’s buildings, people, activities, and -- the focus of this week’s post -- public art.

King streetcar at rush hour. Source: Toronto Star

While recently gazing out the window from the King streetcar, I noticed an installation of a series of large photographs along the sidewalk. Intrigued, I decided to alter my routine that afternoon and simply walk instead of taking transit so I could get a closer look. Already analyzing the many roles and benefits of public art, in my mind the installation already scored a point by provoking me to interrupt my commute for a bit of afternoon art.

Once I approached the installation near King and John Street, large text panels on either end told me what it was all about: “Touching Strangers,” an excerpt of a larger project by photographer Richard Renaldi. To create his work, Renaldi approaches various individuals on the street, pairing them up and photographing them in close, familiar, and intimate positions usually reserved for -- well, people who aren’t strangers. To me, the art was fantastic and the placement of the installation even more so. Much of my time in that particular stretch of King Street is spent inadvertently touching strangers, squished up right up close to others in a streetcar resembling a can of sardines. I loved how the art made me think about conventions of closeness and intimacy, and where it’s acceptable to touch strangers and where it is an unusual portrait. I also appreciated how it made me think about the appropriate placement of public art, and how I might react to it differently, say, on a quiet little side street. 

"Elaine and Arly" by Richard Renaldi.
Source: Scotiabank Contact Photography Festival

Later in the week (on yet another day when the streetcar was simply too slow to even bother boarding), I decided to conduct a little “public visitor research” study by watching passersby interact with the art. What I witnessed made me reflect on the wonderful flexibility and spontaneity of public art: some solo walkers glanced at the images as they walked by; others continued on without looking; a few pairs started to discuss the art as they passed; two bikers dismounted and went, photograph by photograph, having a long conversation about each and every one. I appreciated that, while some people wouldn’t stop today, maybe they would stop tomorrow. Maybe their curiosity would be piqued and they would make a note to read the text panel on their evening commute. However people interact with it, I always appreciate when art spills out of the “container” of the museum to find more viewers.

 

"Claudio and David" by Richard Renaldi.
Source: Scotiabank Contact Photography Festival

One question I considered as I explored this particular art was, what are the limits of what public art can address? I thought of this when reading the introductory panel, which suggests that the images are “provocative.” In many ways, of course, this is true -- the images certainly provoked me to reflect on contact with strangers, and it is provocative, uncomfortable, and challenging to think of getting so close to a stranger on the street. But it also made me consider other definitions of “provocative,” and how public art really can’t push limits or provoke the public too drastically. I thought back to Alex’s post earlier this year, on the outcry at a particular public art installation as a “site of unnecessary distress.” When does public art cross the line from safely provocative to distressing? What do you think are the limits of public art?

Nevertheless, I love what the “Touching Strangers” installation has provoked for me -- contemplation, humour, delight, people-watching, and a new path to work. Has public art recently inspired you or provoked you to alter your commute? What have been some of your memorable responses to public art?

Touching Strangers is on display in front of Metro Hall until June 1.