Click here to view all works by this artist

Click here to view all works by this artist

Ontario College of Art & Design

Mia Nielsen, curator at The Drake, speaking to OCAD students.

On April 6^th, 2010 OCAD welcomed a selection of Toronto’s top gallery owners and curators, plus a professional artist who participated in a panel discussion and question-answer period addressing the business of art.  The space was packed and a line-up of students waited outside for a seat to open up.

Each panel participant spoke about how a gallery goes about choosing its artists and passed along valuable advice about the ways  young, emerging artists can learn about the business of art, a subject somewhat neglected in the curricula in most universities and art schools.  The question period demonstrated the eagerness of the students to learn as much as they could when they asked as many questions as time allowed.  Some of the panelists stayed after the session to talk further with audience members.

The first-of-its-kind event featured the following notable names: Linda Book (Drabinsky Gallery), Tien-Xi Huang (Bau-Xi Photo), John Newman (Kinsman Robinson Gallery), Mia Nielson (Curator, Drake Hotel), Mary-Sue Rankin (Edward Day Gallery), Claire E. Scrivens (Hollander York Gallery), Miriam Shiell (Miriam Shiell Fine Arts), as well as professional artist Chris Carbone (represented by Hollander York Gallery).

Diane Rosenthal (Hollander York Gallery) ably handled the demanding task of moderating the event.

The seminar was a spectacular hit!  Attendees were keen to meet these local celebrities of the art world and gain insight into the Business of Art. Students drank in the information with visible enthusiasm and departed with some practical knowledge of how to take the first steps in their professional careers.

Claire Scrivens of Hollander York Gallery presents at the event.

Diane Rosenthal of Hollander York Gallery moderating discussion.

Afghanistan and Sikkim were two countries that I dreamed of visiting since childhood. Afghanistan because of the book “Caravans” by A.J. Cronin (if I remember correctly) and Sikkim because of the National Geographic coverage when the monarch married an American, Hope Cook, around the same time that Grace Kelly was married to Prince Rainer of Monaco.

It looks doubtful that I will ever make it to Afghanistan but Sikkim remained possible. Sikkim ceased to be an independent nation and became part of India in 1975. Sikkim is tucked into the northeast corner of India, in the Himalayas, wedged between Tibet and Bhutan. On the map, it does not seem that far from Calcutta.

Lewis and I had enough of car and plane travel for awhile. Our bodies were still shaking for a long time after the 9 days on the roads of Orissa and our wallet was a bit drained by the flight from Bhubaneswar to Calcutta. It seemed that it was the perfect time to travel by train.

Our friend (and travel agent in Orissa) booked us 2 tickets on the Kanchanjunga Express from Calcutta to Shiliguri… eight hours 2nd class *air conditioned*. From Shiliguri we would need a car or Jeep. This sounded a lot better than the train we took on our last
trip: Deradhun to Varanasi…22 hours, 2nd class non a/c!

The only downside to the train that I saw was that it departed Sealdah Station, Calcutta at 6:35 AM. Even the driver who was going to take us said that he didn’t mind if we took a taxi instead. We packed our bags after dinner, instructed the hotel staff to wake us at 5 and pretended to get a few hours of sleep.

It was all remarkably easy. Sealdah Station was bustling even at 6 AM but the electronic board displayed the Kachanjunga EXPRESS’ departure at 6:35 AM from platform 9A. We sat on the floor with the other travellers and waited for the train to come. There is one thing that you can count on in India and that is the railway system! The train arrived on time. There were crowds jostling forwards and backwards but gradually a line seemed to form in front of the 2nd class carriages non-air-conditioned. Lewis and I pressed on down the track looking for the telltale sign of a/c compartments – the sealed windows.

Sure enough, about 10 cars down, we saw a sealed window unit…and a computer printout sheet listing passenger names and seat assignments. There we were Klar, L and Klar, I in seats 35 and 36. How efficient is that! The car began to fill up. There was a lot of movement on the platform of goods being hauled, people bustling, hawkers selling foodstuffs but soon I felt the train start up. I looked down at my watch: 6:35 AM.

There were lots of surprises on this train ride, some good, some not so. On the good side were the sheets, blanket and towel provided to each passenger.
Lots of people toiled the aisle selling cookies, candies, chai, coffee so we were not neglected and had entertainment to boot. The toilet stall actually had a toilet seat, no toilet paper however.

The not so good part was that the train was scheduled to arrive in Shiliguri at 6:15 PM making it almost 12 hours to travel 600 kms.
It meant too that we would arrive in the dark and have to decide whether to go on the mountain roads at dusk.

Our neighbours on the train all said that it was best to find a hotel for the night because there were no Jeeps at the train station and we would lose time going to the right station.They had all sorts of worries, concerns and lots of misinformation.

When the train finally arrived (on the dot) we were swarmed by touts offering cars to Darjeeling or Gangtok (Sikkim) . Within minutes we were installed in a Toyota Qualis (similar to a small land cruiser) of questionable vintage. Our driver was about 30, lean, and unusually silent. The drive was to take 4-5 hours and according to the travel agent in Orissa, the roads were good (obviously he has not made the trip).

The road was fine for about 45 minutes but then we began to gain altitude and the road became steep and sinuous with tight hairpin turns and drop-offs heading into darkness.

The growing nightfall made it hard to see the countryside but it was heavily forested at times. The occasional roadside stall lit up with an electric bulb but nothing in the way of towns to speak of.

Then after about 2.5 hours, the driver pulled over in front of a row of stalls and said: Break. Want tea? It was more a statement than a question.
We got out and went into a small “restaurant’” , the term is used quite loosely. We had been up since 5 AM and had only eaten a bit of leftover rice from dinner the night before as well as some cookies I had stashed in my bag. Who knew what would be open when we reached Gangtok. So we pulled out 2 red plastic lawn chairs and sat at the arborite table, swept away some of the flies and ordered vegetable momos (Tibetan dumplings) and black tea.
Maybe it was the lack of sleep or lack of food but they remain among the best momos we have had so far!

Back into the car we scrambled and back to the crumbling, twisting roads.
Many parts had rock piles occupying 1/2 the area, a sign of future improvements. During the daylight hours, men would be using a sledgehammers to break up the rocks. Women would load the gravel and sand onto baskets on their head and saunter down the steep hillside to fill the potholes. At night , the rocks were just another obstacle on the road.

The benefit of night travel on these roads is that the headlights illuminate beyond the tight curves giving oncoming traffic a hint of what is to come.
Our driver was slow, steady and cautious. We were far from the fastest vehicle on the road and I was quite grateful for that.

At 9:30 PM we saw the sign “Welcome to Sikkim” at one end of a small bridge. At the other end was a levered barrier. We stopped at the gate and handed our passports to the driver who handed them to the border guard. He looked at them and barked :”permits!!”. We pointed to our Indian visas. “permits for Sikkim?!” Although the guidebooks mentioned permits obtainable at the border as well as a variety of tourism offices, we had been informed that they were no longer necessary.
..apparently we were wrong.

We asked to buy them at the border. I think that the guard had been waiting his whole career to give us his reply because he seemed to shout it with glee:”Shiliguri. Back to Shiliguri. Office closed.
Office open 8 AM!” He repeated Shiliguri with the staccato of a machine gun.

What were we to do? We drove the 40 minutes back to the momo restaurant. The row of houses and foodstalls were shut tight in the darkness. We did the only sensible thing: the driver slept in the front seat, Lewis in the middle, and I slept with the luggage in the back!

We were awake early and got to the West Bengal/Sikkim border by 7 AM.
Our driver spoke to the border guard who suggested we go and have breakfast at the Sikkim hotel right next to the border office. We did just that. The restaurant manager went and arranged our permit for Sikkim. We went back to the border guard with our passports and permits at 8 AM and he called over the permit official — the same fellow who had wanted to send us back to Shiliguri.

He noted the permit numbers in a book and said something about last night. I said we slept in the car…but why couldn’t he have let us stay in the hotel?? He replied: Office close 8 PM. Welcome to Sikkim.

The marriage didn’t last. – the king and Hope Cook.

Hello again from India,

There are 42 officially designated primitive tribes in India. Thirteen of these live in the northeastern state of Orissa. On our last trip here, we had become interested in the dhokra lost wax sculpture done in the area and determined to go there.

Orissa lies just south of the state of West Bengal and runs along the coast below Calcutta. It is a poor, agricultural state with no industry to speak of. Tourism is poorly developed and public transportation is limited. Here one is able to get a real picture of rural India.

Luck had it that Edmontonian, Satya Das, is from Orissa and he put us in touch with his friend, a travel agent in Bubhaneswar, the capital city. And so we arranged a tour for ourselves with a car, driver and guide. We wanted to go to two of the main tribal markets in the hilly interior of the state.

Our guide, Baadel, has been working as a guide for 10 years and has friends in many of the villages. He provided us with great information about the people and their culture. Perhaps sometime I will write about the whole trip to Orissa but for now, I just want to tell you about one incident at the Thursday market at Chaitonka.

Market day includes not only the merchants from the town but from larger centres as well who come to sell their wares…mainly domestic products. Various villagers come by bus, car, cart of on foot to acquire staples and sell whatever foodstuffs they have in surplus. The Bonda tribe come down from the hills with tobacco leaves, small pieces of dhokra, some jewellery beads and vegetables.

Baadel explained that it would be necessary to leave our hotel by 6 AM in order to be at the market well before 8 AM. He was insistent that we be there to watch the Bonda arrive at the market. Lewis and I are not creatures of the dawn and we are more used to arriving fashionably late than well ahead of time! But, he would hear nothing of that!

He explained that the Bonda villages are 15 km from the market and are inaccessible by road. The Bonda leave their homes well before dawn to get to market. They carry their merchandise on their heads or over their shoulders – huge bundles of tobacco leaves, firewood, bags with dhokra, strings of beads, vegetables, and some cotton weavings.

The Bonda have their own language not at all similar to Odyian (Orissa language) or Hindi and so trade is usually conducted through gesture.
Fortunately Baadel has some rudimentary Bonda.

Baadel rushed us from the car, through the towns narrow intersection and down a path behine the town. He hurried us along this little path urging us to go up one little hill and down the next. It seemed a bit unnecessary to us. “Hurry or you will not see them coming into town!”
So we went a bit further along at his urging.

And then, we understood. The top of the next rise seemed to wiggle…like the shimmering of a mirage…and shapes began to emerge from the distance — the Bonda were coming in groups or individually carrying their loads to market.

The men are quite slight, none taller than 5′7″. They present themselves in a “ferocious” manner. They wear short white cotton wraps and often carry a bow and arrows in their hand although some were loaded with articles for the market. They are not to be trifled with and are not to be photographed.

The women are diminutive and shy. They are well under 5′ tall and
tiny– I felt I could encircle their waists by putting my thumbs and index figures together.They  will permit photography but want to be paid for it – usually 10 Rupees (23 cents).

The women wear striped cotton wraps around their hips. These “skirts”
are about 8″ wide (think small table runner!). Around their necks they wear dozens of long strands of beads. Some of the women also wind these beaded necklaces around their heads encircling their skulls completely. Some have a blanket across their shoulders.

We were not the only tourists here for the market. There were perhaps 20 foreigners positioned like us along the path. It was an amazing entry procession…almost reverential. From time to time, a Bonda would stop to show something to the tourist …some beads or rings and then the gestural language of commerce began. Other Bonda continued the march into market

I bought numerous strands of coloured beads mainly as a way to interact with them. I also asked to take some photographs. Lewis bought more dhokra. I even bought two of the cotton striped skirts (for table runners for a very short table).

One young Bonda woman tugged on my arm wanting to sell me another of the skirt strips. I already had two and declined. She showed me the cloth again and pointed to my pelvis as if I did not realize it was a skirt. I smiled and took her cloth, overlapped it with mine to show with for my girth, even two were not enough.

She then put her fists together and mimed stretching the small cloth into a very, very long one that might fit around the like of me!

Her eyes sparkled and we both smiled and had a good chuckle. I bought her cloth.

That exchange between us was a moment of magic for me. I felt as though for one moment our concurrent worlds had intersected. Our daily realities are world apart but we share our humour.

Irene

As you know, Lewis and I were in India four years ago and during that trip we visited Varanasi, the holy city on the banks of the Ganges, twice – at the end of October for a week and the middle of January for another week.

We stayed at a charming, beautifully renovated home/hotel at the southern end of the ghats, Hotel Ganga View on Assi Ghat. The stairs leading down to the water were just across the lane from the Ganga View. At the top of the ghat was a very large pepul tree surrounded by a dusty small  area where a number of people had food carts and tarps.

The entire length of the ghats is full of kids of all ages asking for rupees, for photos, for school pens and pencils, and selling all manner of things. They harangue you to buy flowers and candles to make a puja (prayer offering) or perhaps open their wad of postcards for you to peruse or maybe pull out an array of glass jars with bindi powder. They follow you for blocks asking your good name…your countreee….your age…how you are. Most are really sweet and curious and certainly hardworking.

Lewis would always kibbitz with them and by the middle of the week, the kids would ask Where are you from? and he would reply “India” and they would repeat…no no, where are YOU from?…and he would repeat “India, where are you from? China? Canada? France?” The kids would chuckle and then ask: What is your good name? To which he would answer “Vinay and what is your name? Michael? Peter? George?” and the children would be howling with laughter and more and more would congregate.

He developed a special relationship with 3 of the boys, Raju, Raj, and Mangala but especially with Raju who was a gawky 14 year old who would  stop hustling his postcards and bindi powder to walk and talk with Lew. Lewis was concerned about their schooling. Mangala was attending school fairly regularly and was going to the World Literacy Canada office on the next ghat (Tulsi Ghat). Raj was 18 and was not in school as he spent most of his time trying to pick up tourists to guide them for a few hours – unofficially of course. Raju rarely went to school because it was more important to his family that he earn a few rupees.

Raju lived with his mother, brother and 4 year old sister under the pepul tree on Assi Ghat. Not in a house but on a low platform under a tarp that was strung onto the tree.

Before we left Varanasi, we went to a bookstore where Lewis bought 3 books, one each for Raju, Raj and Mangala. We hoped that they might be able to read a bit of them.

Well, 4 months later, when we returned to Varanasi in January and booked in again at the Hotel Ganges View, we were greeted with shouts of “Hey Canada” down the ghat. Within a couple of hours Raju turned up and told us that his brother got a book from Lewis. Raj and Raju were brothers.!

It was an unusually cold January. Raju was just wearing a threadbare jean jacket. Before we left the city that time, we bought warm jackets for Raju, and Raj as well as a warm outfit for Pinky and a blanket for their mother.

Raju keeps in contact with all of his tourists. We receive little emails from time to time:” Hello my fren. is raju from asi ghat how r u. i am fine. ” and there are dozens of foreigners on his contact list.

About two years ago,  I received an email from Raju saying that the government might be moving the people out from the pepul tree and he did not know where he would go. So, when Bob and Millie Fournier went to India, we asked them to check under the tree and see if the Pinky family was there. The tarp was gone but they asked around and in short order Mrs. Pinky appeared with little Pinky. The boys were out on the ghats with tourists. They slipped a donation to the family.

Well, it has now been four years and we found ourselves back in Varanasi staying once again on Assi Ghat,albeit at a different “hotel” (more about that another time!). Lewis asked the young desk clerk whether he knew of Raju, Raj and Pinky. He told us that Raj was a pseudonym because it was easier to remember than his given name.  That the family was still around but in a house a tourist had arranged for them.  Apparently Mrs. Pinky is a smart lady! The desk clerk said that he knew Raju and would call him for us. He did and it was arranged that we would meet on the ghat the next day at noon.

Around 11 AM, I was talking to a couple of Swiss women who told me of their morning adventure. They had been taken to see a family that they had met in Varanasi on an earlier trip. They had kept in loose touch and were now able to see where they were living because when they had met, the family had been living….under the pepul tree. Sure enough, they had visited the Pinky family!

Well, Raju arrived at 12 o’clock. He was no longer a gawky kid but at 19 was lean, sported a moustache, but still had a broad endearing grin. He still sometimes sells postcards and bindi powder on the ghats but more often, he acts as a guide, unofficially of course, and he is now learning to drive a rickshaw like his brother, Raj (really Krishnapurtty…) Raj is married and has a little baby. Little Pinky is now 9, attends school regularly.

We learned that most rickshaw drivers rent their rickshaws by the hour in the hope of making a few rupees in that time. That is why they never seem to have enough fuel for the journey. They fill up when they get a fare. They do not want to return the rickshaw with their fuel in the tank!

Raju also told us that the other day, a tourist had approached him and asked him to round up about 6-8 street kids and meet him the next day so that he could take them to see a dentist. Raju smiled broadly and told us that he had been to the dentist. In fact, he had had 4 injections…but it really didn’t hurt except for the injections. Then he opened wide and proudly showed us all of his new fillings!

What a terrific idea! To go and help directly. Such a simple thing to do. Today I went to the market with Lewis because he wanted to buy some dhal and some rice to give to a couple of the women on our street here in Calcutta who sit with their kids asking for rupees.That sounded like a good idea too. There is an overwhelming amount of poverty here as there is in many places. No one person can solve that problem but there are small acts that might make a small difference.

(A short post script about World Literacy Canada: March 8 was World Women’s Day and a large tent appeared on Assi Ghat. World Literacy Canada  was sponsoring a tournament of Gili danda. This is a rugby/tag game played by rural girls and women similar to British Bulldog. Teams from villages all across the country were participating)

Namaste,
Irene

At present, we are in the NE state of  Orissa and we are visiting the tribal area. it is fascinating and very  far removed from the email I had prepared when I was last at an internet facility. Nevertheless, I will proceed in order of the voyage. Just to keep you well informed our itinerary is Delhi – Varanasi- Hyderabad- Bhubaneswar (Orissa)- Calcutta – Gangtok (Sikkim) – Darjeeling – Delhi (perphaps a change or two as we proceed. We are still relatively healthy!

Lewis was to meet with the vice chancellor (dean) of law at the National Law Unversity, Delhi. We had imagined going to an old British colonial building in the heart of Delhi perhaps with a leafy green courtyard. Instead we were told that NLU Delhi is located in Dwarka – a remote suburb not far from the airport.

Delhi above ground can be a very challenging experience. As our friend Suhail told us,” Delhi is not as organized as Mumbai. In Mumbai they do lane driving”. In Delhi, road traffic is a free for all. I often feel that the vehicle I am riding is a ball in a multi-ball pinball game and someone else is pulling the pin and tilting the surface. Cars clog every available opening between the curbs creating ever changing flows of traffic. Gridlock is not uncommon. Vehicles fight for supremacy and priority. Suhail’s sage advice to us: “Take the metro”. Lewis had been told that the law school was “just opposite the metro station” so we decided to try our luck.

If we were dubious about Delhi aboveground, what chaos would reign below? We venture out of our tranquil Golf Links neighbourhood and flag a passing rickshaw. A brief negociation of fare takes place and we speed off to Paligiri Maidans Metro station.It is surrounded by lots of rickshaws, cars and buses at the entrance. We passed through, put our knapsack on the Xray belt, Lewis walks to the “gents’” scanner and I to the “ladies”. I received a very timid  frisking from a bashful young woman in a khaki uniform who averts her eyes.

We proceed to the wicket to purchase our tokens – fare is the equivalent of 50 cents. We follow the signs to the platform to await our train. The station is spacious and CLEAN!!! An LED display announces the  time of the next train. A prim voice announces its arrival in Hindi and then repeats it in English. Should we  be expecting something more sinister? Where is India?

The train is quiet and modern. There are maps above each door and stops illuminate as we travel along the 45 stop length. Announcements in Hindi and English rattle off the various stops and ask passenger : “Please do not sit on car floors”…, “Remember to yield your seat to the physically handicapped, the elderly and ladies”…”Kindly refrain from spitting in the cars or in the station”. It seems that every stop elicits a new request!

The metro ride to Dwarka 14 takes over 45 minutes. We are amazed at the expanse of Delhi. The metro runs below ground in central Delhi but soon climbs its way above most of the buildings and we are treated to quite a view. Endless buildings are punctuated by occasional squares of green. Only one unpleasant slum on the way to Dwarka. Innuumerable temples, huge white gleaming stupas or red sandstone pyramidal temple entryways with gigantic painted cement Shivas, Durgas, and Kalis. And just before Dwarka stop is an area with sheds and yards housing dozens of water buffalo. We cannot figure out if it is the Delhi Dairy or a stockyard.Suddenly the buildings, by some unheard agreement, disappear – there is an expanse of open undeveloped land:
Dwarka 14.

We descend from the spanking clean, steel and glass metro station to a dusty, treeless, featureless  development zone. A few bicycle rickshaws are in a line across the street, their drivers sleeping in the heat.We can see several cement blocks of buildings rising in the distance , a mile or so away. We rouse a driver and we perch awkwardly on the narrow board that masquerades as a seat. We are grateful for the rickshaw’s awning as the sun is now very hot. Our driver rises on his pedals, leans heavily, and we begin our progress to the newest law school in India…by bicycle.

Looking over my shoulder, I marvel at the constant contrast of India: the most modern hand in hand with the old. Leaving a clean efficient metro with computer driven trains that run on time to catch a dilapidated bicycle that will bring us to the campus of the law university! And we could not have made it to Lewis’ appointment without either.

Irene

We have been in India since March 3 and finally I have had some time to start writing at the computer. Right now we are in Hyderabad at the National Academy of Legal Studies and Research University. NALSAR University. As you can see, the Indians enjoy a good name. (And the kids in the street are always holding out their hands to you asking…”and what is your good name, ma’am?”)

The university has hosted us in terrific fashion. I think I will write an email later comparing and contrasting university hospitality! I can also provide contrasts in hotel accommodation – and back them up with pictures.

The room here comes equipped with computer. I shall take advantage of the fact that Lewis has been picked up to go to the law school where he will deliver a talk. I have the room and computer to myself. Face it, the campus is 60 Kms from Hyderabad in the countryside – you are my only company!

The Sounds of Delhi:

I think of this trip as Mr. and Mrs. Magoo Do India 2. Our first trip, 4 years ago, despite everyone’s warnings and dire predictions went so smoothly that we were perhaps deluded into thinking that travel in India was a piece of cake.

We have been here for over a week. Four days spent in Delhi and three in Varanasi and maybe we are indeed the Magoos but we find travel here to be easy to manage and ever fascinating.

Arriving at the modern Indira Gandhi airport was smooth…not even a line up at immigration. Having only carry-on luggage for the month meant we could immediate proceed to the “Prepaid Taxi” counter. We gave the address of our hotel and paid the required amount to the ticket seller. We brought our receipt to the first in line at the queue and our second trip to India was underway!

Our taxi was one of the typical Delhi fleet. The cars look like 1958 Vauxhalls or Holdens that have been bashed around, scavenged, and generally mistreated but manage to run on determination alone (not unlike much of the Indian populace).

After a few kilometers, the driver made a swift stop at a gas station. Drivers never seem to like investing too much money on fuel – obviously they are not confident that they will be able to find another paying customer among the 1.4 billion people here. In reality, they often rent their cars and rickshaws to use for a few hours in the hope of making a few rupees in that time. Obviously they do not want to leave too much fuel in the tank for the next renter.

We fueled up, asked directions to the Delhi neighbourhood a few times, and finally made it to the Ahuja Residency. The hotel is small – a converted house in a leafy residential and central neighbourhood, the Golf Links, near the Khan Market. It became our oasis in Delhi.

The area is completely gated and each block of the neighbourhood is built around its own small park.

On our first morning, I woke at 5:30 AM and listened to the sounds of our new world. It was as though a symphony was being created outside. First there was a distant staccato-a wavering musical teletype of a muezzin supported by a soft, far-off bass of a train. These sounds soon quieted and a swelling chorus of birdsong took over filling the airspace. Over a period of time the birdsong reached a crescendo and then lapsed as the sky gradually filled with colour and our day began.

Watching the birds from our rooftop terrace was a real pleasure in Delhi. We had forgotten the variety of species. There were green parrots thrusting into the air, squawking and flying in pairs from park to park; mynas hopping about; kite hawks soaring and crows and magpies gurgling from the branches, smaller birds warbled.

As we walked through the neighbourhood on our way to the market area, the cacophony of traffic waited for us just beyond the gate. One step out and the honking of horns becomes relentless!  Honks of cars, beeps of auto rickshaws, meeps of scooters, and bells of bicycles all colliding and assaulting eardrums. It seems as though the din will never diminish until at the end of the day, we again cross the threshold into our neighbourhood and the pastoral sounds take over.

With best wishes to you all from a world away,

Irene

IN THIS ISSUE

• Dates to Remember
• W.H. Webb ——————The Western Landscape
• Andrée Vézina ————-The Passionate Eye
• Dina Podolsky————–What’s New
• Gallery Updates
• Enclosed: Client Appreciation Gift

DATES TO REMEMBER

Jean-Gabriel Lambert

Opens Saturday, February 6th

Continues to Monday, February 22nd

W.H Webb

Opens Saturday, February 27th

Continues to Monday, March 22nd

Andree Vezina

Opens Saturday, March 27th

Continues to Monday, April 12th

Rose-Aimee Belanger & Pierre Bedard

Opens Saturday, April 17th

Continues to Monday, May 3rd

Bev Rodin

Opens Saturday, May 8th

Continues to Monday, May 25th

Karen Rieger

Opens Saturday, May 29th

Continues to Monday, June 14th

W. H. WEBB

Meet the artist Saturday, February 27th from 1-5pm

W. H. WEBB

Bill Webb, born in England, attended the University of Manchester majoring in art and education. In 1968, Webb immigrated to Canada, to follow a career in teaching and education administration. Webb gave up a successful career with the Alberta school Board in 1984 to pursue painting full time.

Webb’s paintings are not simply topographical depictions of Canadian vistas.They are intellectually developed environments replete with power. Webb’s range of self-developed techniques and innovations has given him unparalleled ability to describe the effects of atmosphere and light.

The painting, “Alberta Evening, The Battle River Valley” was accepted into the Official State Collection of Canada and has been declared “of outstanding significance and national importance” by the Canadian Government Cultural Property Export review board. This painting now hangs in Rideau Hall, Ottawa.

Join us in celebrating the accomplishments of one of Canada’s best-known contemporary landscape artists.

ANDRÉE VÉZINA

A solo Exhibition of New Work opens Saturday, March 27th

Orchestra Tipica, acrylic, 36x48"

Andree Vezina was born in Montréal in 1952. She completed a degree in Sociology at Laval University as well as art courses at colleges, museums and workshops. In 1986, she received ‘Artist of the Year Award’ from Pratt & Whitney.

A passionate artist who loves to paint with large strokes of a spatula and thick paint, Vézina is a powerful figurative painter, and her canvases reverberate with movement. Her richly textured images fill her canvases with energy and color. She paints without hesitation using her life experience as inspiration.

Tango a Quebec, acrylic, 48x36"

Vézina’s newest passion is the tango and this is reflected in her current paintings with the sweeping gestures of the dancing figures.

Vézina’s work can be found in many private and corporate collections such as Pratt & Whitney, Assurances Desjardins, Hydro Quebec, AT&T, and Microsoft.

DINA PODOLSKY

Time and Memory, mixed media, 48x24

Hollander York Gallery is pleased to now represent accomplished artist

Dina Podolsky. Born in Moscow in 1953 where she trained as an artist, she is a graduate of the Moscow Central Art School as well as the Bezalel Academy of Art and Design in Jerusalem.

Podolsky’s art draws from the tradition of the Great Masters, speaking in a unique visual language that is both contemporary and traditional. Her work uses symbolism which reflects the themes of time, passage and memory. Podolsky strives to discover beauty in ordinary objects, real and illusionary through the exploration of textured canvases and antiqued colors. The innocence in Podolsky’s work brings a feeling of warm reminiscence to any onlooker.

Podolsky has been exhibiting extensively for over thirty years and has had shows in Jerusalem, Santa Fe and in New York at Opera Gallery. She now lives and works in Montreal, Canada.

GALLERY UPDATES

Claude A. Simard’s, painting Tulipes en Hiver was chosen for the cover of American Psychologist, December 2009 issue. Simard was interviewed by art co-editor Sandra M. Fowler about his background, his inspiration, and methodology.

Sara Genn’s paintings were recently featured in Canadian House & Home and W magazine. Last year she was invited to the Emerson Landing Artist Residency in Wye Mills, Maryland and will be returning there this year. Genn will be speaking at the Armory Show in New York in March 2010.

Jean-Gabriel Lambert has recently been featured in an online article with Ámbito Puerto Vallarta, writing of his inspiration that he finds in Mexico as well as his excitement for his upcoming show in Toronto here at Hollander York Gallery.

Madeleine Lemire, R.C.A. has decided to evade the Canadian winter to find some warm inspiration that typically blooms in her paintings of Provence and will be living and working in Guatémala from January to May of this year.

Gérard Dansereau, Dina Podolsky, and H.E. Kuckein have each been featured in the latest edition of Parcours. The articles are an insightful survey into the artists’ history and current practice.

Hollander York welcomes Amanda Tamul as Associate Director. Both Amanda and Elizabeth Petrova will be delighted to assist you with all of your needs.

CLIENT SERVICES AT HOLLANDER YORK GALLERY

We offer customized services to private clients as well as corporations, private clubs and associations:

• Gift Certificates and Bridal registry
• Wide selection of Contemporary Canadian Fine Art suitable for homes and offices here and abroad, at affordable prices.
• Staging homes and presentation suites with paintings
• Complimentary individualized, on-site consultation
• Flexible payment policy
• Shipment and installation
• On-approval policy – experience the art on-site
• Gallery space available for rent for private or corporate events

CLIENT APPRECIATION GIFT

In gratitude to our clients, we are pleased to include a gift in the value of $100 redeemable at the Hollander York Gallery. This is a unique opportunity to indulge in our exceptional selection of Contemporary Canadian art.

We look forward to seeing you at the gallery.

Claire  &  Diane

Book Signing
Painting Paradise: a biography in words and pictures
By Katherine Gibson

Launch of
The Ted Harrison Foundation

Ted Harrison

Ted Harrison is an extraordinary Canadian artist who, at 83, is still full ofenergy, ideas and good humour. He has agreed to this one last exhibition atHollander York in October 2009, to celebrate the launching of The Ted HarrisonFoundation which will fund through disbursements, the development ofCanadian art, artists and art education.

Harrison’s workcaptures and interprets the vast nature and spirit of northern Canadawith energetic waves of lush colour. This exciting exhibition offers some newpaintings for sale as well as a collection that spans the last few decades.

Ted Harrison’s list of awards is as long as a Yukonwinter. He was the first Canadian to exhibit at the prestigious InternationalChildren’s Book Exhibition in Bologna, Italy, in 1978.He holds the Order of Canada, the Order of British Columbia, and four honorarydoctorate degrees.

His authorized biography,“Ted Harrison:Painting Paradise”, by Vancouver writer, Katherine Gibson will be released at this significant event. Both Ted Harrison and Katherine Gibson will be present atthe Gallery on Saturday, October 17th from 1 to 5 pm to sign the newbiography.

Ted Harrison is a Canadian icon. Hollander York Gallery is proud to have representedTed for 30 years and honoured to present this historic event.

Thank you to our gallery artists Doug Edwards, Elka Nowicka and Lynda Schneider-Granatstein, and guest artists Gary Frost and Nikola Belchevski for painting throughout the night and captivating us with their work.

Many thanks also to jazz pianist virtuosoThompson T. Egbo-Egbo for playing and putting together the wonderful list of jazz musicians that kept the night exhilarating.

Click thumbnails to view larger images.

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Gallery's front

More participants adding to Nikola's canvas

Montreal artist Lynda Schneider-Granatstein (right) with Nuit Blanche participants

Lynda painting during the night

Gary Frost painting participant covering her face

Lower level of gallery

Engaging jazz musicians playing smooth tunes

Nuit Blanche participants contributing to Nikola's canvas

Elka Nowicka puts finishing touches on her painting

Nikola's finished canvas. Over 500 participants contributed.

View of lower level from balcony

Douglas Edwards painting away

Toronto artist Doug Edwards paints as participants watch

Our Artists' Best poster compliments of HYG

B.C. artist Elka Nowicka

Jazz virtuosos, Thompson Egbo-Egbo and friends

Nikola Belchevski handing out pastels for his interactive canvas