Latest news with #OCADUniversity
National Post
5 days ago
- Entertainment
- National Post
Design trends: A new push for public art
A thought-provoking new sculpture by British artist Ryan Gander — The Cat, the Clock and the Rock — was unveiled on April 29 in the pedestrian walkway between Toronto's Simcoe and St. Patrick streets, near OCAD University. It's an eye-catching piece, a four-foot stainless-steel clock leaning against a rock modelled after one of the oldest rock samples on Earth, with a life-sized cat curled up in its shadow. But it's the artwork's backstory that reveals a side of Toronto's Percent for Public Art Program that often isn't talked about. Article content Article content The sculpture sits between three new towers in the Artists' Alley condo project. The piece was funded by the condos' developer, Lanterra, a participant in the City of Toronto's voluntary Percent for Public Art Program, a 40-year-old arrangement in which participating developers reserve one percent of a project's gross construction cost to fund a public artwork, either on the site itself or nearby, in exchange for concessions like additional storeys or an increase in building density. In the case of Artists' Alley, both of those were granted in exchange for community benefits that included the sculpture; a 6,000-square-foot community space to be operated by the City; a publicly accessible open space; and a monetary contribution to new affordable housing units in the area, according to a spokesperson in the City's Media Relations department. Article content Some artist mentorship is encouraged in the program's guidelines, but these components have generally been limited to interactions between the commissioned artist and a single mentee, often an artist local to the area where a piece will be installed. For example, developer Concord Adex facilitated several one-on-one mentorships at its Concord CityPlace and Concord Park Place communities with local artists, led by their public art consultant. Mentees learned about public art commissioning and delivery through hands-on experience and coaching. Article content Article content 'With OCAD right next door, we really wanted to create an opportunity for art students to get involved, to learn from this incredible international artist, and to see first-hand what goes into making a piece of art like this happen,' says Lanterra chairman and co-founder Mark Mandelbaum. Article content Lanterra's first installation, in 2007, was a roly-poly bronze sculpture by the controversial American artist Tom Otterness titled Immigrant Family at Yonge Street and Lakeshore Boulevard. Article content This time, working closely with OCAD U, Lanterra funded a mentorship bursary and supported the creation of a new minor in public art at the school. In 2022, six upper-year students and alumni were selected to participate in a week-long paid intensive with Gander titled 'A Melted Snowman,' which explored public space and artistic intervention around the OCAD U campus. Article content 'I still think about the work that I made for that workshop. It informs what I'm doing now,' says Abby Kettner, one of the OCAD U students involved. It culminated in the group creation of a piece — a magic eight ball containing a die with all of the students' works depicted titled Oscillation and Tension Between the Natural and the Conventional — that Gander gifted to OCAD U's permanent collection.
Yahoo
05-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Artist Jason Baerg on Canada Day's reminder of stolen land and broken promises: 'Canada is a colonial project'
Artist, designer and educator Jason Baerg is clear-eyed about what Canada and its celebration mean — and doesn't mean — for many Indigenous people across the country. Baerg, who uses they/them pronouns, says it plainly: 'Canada is a colonial project." It's a statement that cuts to the root of Canada Day's enduring controversy: For many Indigenous people, it marks not a national celebration but a reminder of stolen land and broken treaties. As a Cree-Métis artist raised in Red River, Saskatchewan and now based in Toronto, Ontario, Baerg's very life and practice are acts of resistance, continuity and reclamation. 'I'm Indigenous and German — my father came from Germany, and I was raised by my Métis mother,' Baerg explains. 'So, every day is Indigenous for me. That's how I live my life.' Yahoo News Canada presents 'My Canada," a series spotlighting Canadians — born-and-raised to brand new — sharing their views on the Canadian dream, national identity, and the triumphs and tribulations that come with life inside and outside these borders. That lived experience means Canada Day doesn't bring up the same kind of pride or joy others might feel. 'It's a weird thing to unpack,' they say. 'It's funny how many people don't even understand the basics, that First Nations have their own governments, that they're independent nations.' Baerg doesn't dismiss Canadian identity entirely. They acknowledge: 'I'd be a fool to think I do not participate in a greater network of people that includes settlers. When I think about what it means to participate in that kind of nationalism, which is kind of fabricated, I think about continuum, where we are, out story. It's complex.' That sense of continuum shows up powerfully in Baerg's work. As an interdisciplinary artist working across painting, fashion and digital media, their art is deeply rooted in Indigenous epistemologies, visual languages and futurism. 'I'm interested in sustainable fashion, in the presence and visuality of Indigenous people through their contemporary art practices,' they say. 'There's real intention there of how [we] participate in culture, and build and disseminate who we are as Indigenous people.' Baerg also brings that philosophy into the classroom at OCAD University, where they teach and mentor the next generation of artists, many of whom — and, crucially, not all — are Indigenous. 'The artist has to know who they are before they can say anything to the world,' they say. 'So, I have my students research their own traditional homelands. It helps them understand their position and gives them cultural material to work with in their art. I'm grounding them in having them acknowledge that their ancestors are from a different place, and I'm also serving them the opportunity to get to know themselves even more, because I truly believe that the artist has to know who they are before they can say anything to the world.' In other words, that sense of knowing isn't just about identity, it's also about place. Baerg believes deeply in connecting students to the land, and in challenging Canadian institutions — artistic, educational and political — to do better. 'It's not enough to have conversations anymore; art and education are just the beginning. We need action. We know communities don't have clean water, so fix that. We know curriculum is lacking, so change it.' We know communities don't have clean water, so fix that. We know curriculum is lacking, so change it. And for Baerg, that change has to start early. They point to models in places like Australia where Indigenous culture is embedded in early childhood education. 'Why not here?' they ask. 'If you're in Toronto, every child should know how to say 'hello' in Haudenosaunee or Anishinaabe. That kind of cultural fluency should be foundational. We should be bringing local Indigenous custodians into schools and daycares. Geography lessons should happen on the land with those who know it best.' There are already some glimmers of this vision in Canada. Baerg highlights Saskatchewan's treaty education mandate from kindergarten to Grade 12 as an example. But they also express frustration at the pace of progress, particularly when funding is often the first thing to go. 'The government has taken so much away ... And I don't want to entertain that anymore. I want us to envision something better and then go build it.' Despite all this, Baerg remains optimistic. Their hope doesn't come from institutions, but from community. 'I see us moving forward in good ways, with or without institutional support,' they say. 'We train our own, we respond to our own needs, and we move.' What they want most — for Canada, for Canadians — is a shift toward meaningful collaboration. At the heart of that is a simple but powerful wish: respect. 'I'd love to see more harmony and more collaboration,' Baerg says. 'Genuine respect. If we looked at each other as kin, we'd be in a much better place.'
CBC
02-04-2025
- Entertainment
- CBC
The garbage artist who will make you rethink trash
A few years ago, the Toronto mixed-media artist Georgia Dickie was given a stack of Tim Hortons cups by her grandfather, who mistakenly thought he could retroactively collect Roll Up the Rim points. "I have them, I may as well try and use them," she remembers thinking. She went to work on a suite of small coffee cup assemblages that turns the idea of high and low materials on its head. "I can use a discarded coffee cup just in the same way that I can use a cool piece of rusty metal," she says. Once she started paying more attention to mundane and overlooked items, she saw them as aesthetically worthwhile objects with their own complex histories. "From my perspective," Dickie says, "[this method] is a way of opening up my world." And it is where the underlying philosophy of Dickie's practice emerges. By looking closely at the world — unburdened by conventions of beauty, exceptionality and value — we may see objects, relationships and assumptions anew. To learn about the artist's unique sense of vision and order, I visited Dickie's studio as she settled back into work after having a baby. Watch as the artist shows off her materials and methods in the first instalment of Local Colour, a new video series from CBC Arts, streaming below. As we walked through her workspace, Dickie told me about some of the major influences that shaped her artistic sensibility. Chief among them were her parents. Her father is an artist and a property master for films who kept a large inventory of objects in the basement of her childhood home. He often worked with found objects, and Dickie recalled the bins full of fake jewelry and other collected props, fragments and curiosities. "It was an amusement park of cool stuff," she says. Her mother, who's an artist and clothing designer, had similarly been drawn to what Dickie calls "prettiness, but with edge." Together, her parents gave her "unending permission," Dickie says. "I can use this in an artwork and I don't have to justify it," she remembers thinking to herself. "It just felt like my brain was on fire." Dickie studied sculpture at OCAD University in Toronto, where she began making large-scale works that utilized found objects. She recalls being energized by the idea of incorporating "big, dense, heavy materials" in her work. How Many Antennae, from 2017, was made years after she left school, but it's representative of her larger works. The piece is a constellation of found objects, incorporating wooden beams, rusted metal, a ceramic plate, a toilet seat and delicate wire arches. The composition is precarious, and Dickie's interest seems to be in the work's exploration of balance and instability. "For a long time, [working on a large scale] really satisfied what I was trying to do," she says. "But I started to feel like I was relying on the scale and the density of the materials as a way to validate the works." There were also practical limitations to this approach. Transportation and storage concerns were at the front of her mind when she was collecting mammoth industrial objects, like, a ten-foot-wide satellite dish. The COVID lockdowns marked a turning point in Dickie's practice. With her world pared down to the one minute walk between her house and studio, she wondered if she could make a series of work using only materials she found along the way. Coffee cups were one option, as was the rubbish that littered the street. Now, her materials could fit into her pocket. "It meant I was maybe more likely to take a risk with material I wouldn't normally use — and it's more fun." For Dickie, the process and the logistics of art making can't be separated from the work itself. As she took me around her studio, she noted that many of her sculptures are packed up in cardboard boxes. In response, she began to make cardboard box sculptures, filling them with the detritus she was collecting. The boxes allowed her to rethink the very function of storage. "It irritates me that you create this work, you give it a chance to be seen and then it goes back into a storage compartment. And then what is it at that point?" Rather than being the terminal point of the work, storage could become a new beginning. In one piece, she stuffed a blue cardboard box with orange packaging, tattered cloth and debris. On one of the panels, Dickie affixed two printed images of garbage bags and the word "strong," which serves as an ironic counterpoint to the fragility of the materials. Here, in content and in form, there is a tension between strength and vulnerability, permanence and disposability. Fully embracing chance, Dickie chose not to protectively package the boxes when she shipped them to the gallery Soft Opening in London. Instead, she folded them up, taped them and sent them as is. "I was open to the idea of the works falling apart during shipping. Things always break, things always get damaged." In every sense, this work is in constant flux. To Dickie, the life of an object — from creation and use to decay — is all part of the work. From a discoloured metal beam to a stray wooden block, from an Amazon box to a trampled coffee cup, her materials have all been exposed to time, touch and the forces of the world. "My job," she says, "feels like bringing together things that may not normally be brought together in an effort for both myself and the viewer to look at their world a little differently." For Dickie, found objects carry the marks of the world around them. Using them as material is a way to reflect on what we throw away, what we hold onto and why.
CBC
26-01-2025
- Entertainment
- CBC
What's worth seeing at Canada's biggest design festival? Art shows galore … plus a corner store for pigeons
Toronto is home to the biggest annual design festival in the country, DesignTO. The 10-day-long affair opens its 15th edition Friday, with the launch of more than 100 events across the city, including art shows aplenty, window installations, talks, tours and other happenings, most of which are totally free. So what's worth seeing first? We gathered tips from some of this year's participating artists. At the Conjuring of Roots, I Wished to Meet Me … Technically, this outdoor photography exhibition has been towering above Sankofa Square since the beginning of January, but the next time you're shopping downtown, linger at Yonge and Dundas awhile to acquaint yourself with the work of Toronto-based artist Delali Cofie. A recent grad of OCAD University, Cofie is showing a selection of images from his award-winning thesis project, At the Conjuring of Roots, I Wished to Meet Me …, as part of DesignTO. Through Jan. 31, those photographs will be appearing on five of the square's massive screens. Incredible garments pull the focus in each shot. They are voluminous creations that ripple with fringey layers of straw-like raffia and ruffles. Cofie, who was born and raised in Ghana, took inspiration from West African masquerade costumes in designing each look, and he collaborated with seamstresses back home in Accra to bring them to life. "The textiles that I use represent personal history," Cofie tells CBC Arts. For the project, he collected used fabric such as bedsheets and old clothes, stuff he gathered from his own closet — and his family's too. "I sort of reimagined these clothes as the self come to life." Revive For a closer look at Cofie's work, head to Gallery 235 at the Harbourfront Centre. There, the artist will be installing two garments plus four more photographs from the aforementioned series. Cofie is one of seven artists and designers featured in Revive, a group show curated by DesignTO. (It runs Jan. 25 – March 30). Other participants include Jessie Sohpaul, Judy Anderson and Roda Medhat. "From my perspective, [Revive] is archiving and an attempt at preserving art practices and craft practices that are in danger of being lost, either through industrialization, technological advances, globalization," says Medhat, whose own work explores Kurdish culture and craft. At Revive, the Guelph-based artist will be showing Marital Rug, a piece from 2024 that's part of a larger series inspired by neon signage. Using LED tubing, Medhat's created a mat with patterns that sizzle and glow — and yet, its form appears to slump and curve with the weight of gravity. "The way I think of rugs and textiles, they're not static objects that are just put on display. They are used in life," says Medhat. "So I want to bring that movement and the weight of the material back into the work." Why use LEDs instead of traditional textiles? "When you're making something that's a bit of a spectacle," he says, "it helps to bring people into the conversation more easily. They want to approach the work and understand it. And from there, you can have the conversation around Kurdish history, Kurdish culture and things like that. Materially, I'm always exploring so that I can find ways to pull people into the work." (Medhat will be showing more from his neon rug series at another DesignTO exhibition: The Shape I'm In. That show, which runs Jan. 22 – Feb. 1 is at All Ours Studio & Art Vessel on Geary Ave.) Dwell "Being at Union [Station] at rush hour is kind of this horrible nightmare," says Alison Postma. "Busy, busy, busy. Rush, rush, rush. If there is a moment to kind of sit and reflect — or contemplate — I think that's really needed." On any given day, more than 300,000 people hustle through the station. And if you're frantically dodging a few hundred of those bodies as you make your way through the West Wing, this group show invites you to stop and chill for a second — a radical notion, especially if you're late for the train. Postma, a Toronto-based artist and recent graduate of the furniture design program at Sheridan College, is one of five designers with work on display between Jan. 24 – Feb. 2. Their contribution, Kissing Chair (2022), is a modern spin on a conversation seat, a sort of conjoined-twin version of a loveseat, one which arranges sitters in a forced tête-à-tête. "In Victorian times, [it] was used as a way for courting couples to interact but not be too close and be supervised," says Postma. "I thought that was quite charming," they laugh. "I wanted to think about the possibilities for furniture to kind of shape your reality. So, it's not just something that you sit in. When you sit in it, it creates this space, it creates conversation. It creates an intimacy," says Postma. "Like, it's very easy to sit in it with another person and forget what's going on around you." Medhat says he's excited to see the piece in person, and the concept of the group show, which was curated by DesignTO, captured his imagination. "I think spatially it's interesting because it's in Union Station," he says. "To put in a show where the intention is for you to sit and wait and reflect and be with the work is interesting … To kind of go against the ethos of the space by creating these works that demand that you sit with them." Bubble Quilt Studio Rat is a creative collective founded by Dom Di Libero and Emily Allan, artists known for transforming trash into supersized inflatables — like the balloon tent (Plastiscapes) that rose 33 feet off the floor at Art Toronto in October. For the festival, the duo will be presenting a piece described as an "immersive inflatable installation and lighting concept" — a Bubble Quilt of patchwork plastic that'll be revealed Jan. 24 at 55 St. Clair Ave. W. Postma can't wait to see it while it's up. (The installation will be on view through Feb. 2.) "I've been following [Studio Rat's] practice for awhile," says Postma. "There is this aspect of the material breathing and moving which I think needs to be seen in person." New Narratives in Design: Salvage, Reuse and Toronto's Evolving Aesthetic Sustainability is a recurring theme on the festival schedule, Studio Rat's Bubble Quilt being one example. And this project — a two-fer involving a group exhibition of local makers plus an off-site tour of a renovation project — looks at how architects, designers and artisans can put salvaged materials to use here in Toronto. That pitch has Postma intrigued. "We live in a world of limited resources and that's not something that is always talked about in design," says the designer. "I think it's important, so I'm excited to see what people are doing with reclaimed materials." (The free exhibition is at Underscore Projects Jan. 25 – Feb. 2. The renovation tour runs Sunday, Jan. 26, and advance RSVP is required.) About Time Six old classmates from the craft and design department at Sheridan College are coming together for this eclectic group show featuring furniture, lighting and interactive design. It's like the grad exhibition they never had — with a twist. Toronto was still in lockdown when the participants finished school in 2021. "The work they're showing is kind of a reflection of the work that they didn't get to show then — and then, what they've been up to now," says Postma, who's excited to see how the cohort bridges that gap. It's on Jan. 24 – Feb. 2 at Stackt Market. Snapshot: Foto de Familia Speaking of old friends from school, Delali Cofie says you've got to see this window installation by Ernesto Cabral de Luna, one of his pals from OCAD U. The piece, which is appearing in the Stantec Window Gallery through March 20, is a deconstructed family photo from the '70s. A portrait of the artist's mom, aunt and grandparents has been enlarged, cracked and eroded. (As part of his process, Cabral de Luna transfers photo-album snapshots onto corroded copper plates.) "He's thinking about visual distortion of memories and how that can be visualized through physical degradation of material," says Cofie. "Also, it is just really good to look at." Fractures and Futures This solo exhibition from artist Catherine Chan appeared at the Art Gallery of Guelph last year. That's where Roda Medhat first saw it, and he's eager to revisit the show when it arrives at Collision Gallery for DesignTO (Jan. 24 – Feb. 15). "The work is visually striking," says Medhat, referring to Chan's use of kintsugi, the art of mending cracks with gold. Traditionally, it's a technique for repairing pottery, but here, Chan gilds rocks and other natural materials, making a link between geological time and the human experience of memory. Homing (Pigeon Store) Pigeons. Name a bird that city-dwellers hate more. I'll wait. Maddy Young describes herself as a lifelong Torontonian, but she's developed a more charitable opinion than most. Last year, the artist embarked on a research project. She roamed the downtown by bike, documenting pigeons and the humans who fancy them. And as part of her study, she even built a miniature convenience store — a whimsical bike trailer stocked with plenty of feed. (Snacks are a great way to make friends, feathered or otherwise.) For DesignTO, she's presenting an installation based on the project. Inside the lobby of a condo building at 95 St. Clair Ave. W, you'll find her mobile bird bodega plus a flock of pigeon sculptures. (The show runs Jan. 24 – Feb. 2.) Why pigeons, though? "There's a strong feeling of instability, insecurity, living in the city," says Young. "You move around a lot, things change a lot. You don't know — like, can I continue living in Toronto? All my friends are leaving Toronto. And the pigeons are interesting to me as a symbol of adapting. Like, hacking the city, finding ways to keep living in this kind of precarious environment." They're "urban survivors," she says. "That's the draw." Beyond the Body and The Archivist Toronto-based artist and designer Pixel Heller has two exhibitions at DesignTO, and both are must-sees according to Young and Cofie. Carnival masquerade and the artist's Afro-Caribbean culture influence much of her work, which extends across photography, performance and textiles. Costumes — wearable sculpture, really — take centre stage in Beyond the Body, an exhibition appearing at the same site as Young's show (95 St. Clair Ave. W). And in The Archivist, she shares a series of carnival-time photographs taken from the POV of a "performative photographer character." That show can be found down the street at 2-22 St. Clair Ave. E. Both exhibitions run Jan. 24 – Feb. 2.
