The Group of Seven. Still the Group of Seven. Thursday's class revolved around the panel discussions, with Sally, Alex and Emma presenting, in order, on recent Group of Seven publicity and controversy, on how the Group of Seven became landscape painters, and on the early departure of Frank Johnston from the group.
The class discussion that ensued was mainly on artist autonomy and whether it is harder today to be an artist than it was back then. Topics explored included technology and the dissemination of information (including images), modern expectations of the artist including individuality and originality, and market-place competition of professional artist creations with the industrially-produced and the unprofessionally-produced.
I was very interested in people's answers when asked if they thought it was harder to be an individual artist today compared to during Frank Johnston's time. I had never given it much thought before, and the opinions and observations on the matter varied greatly. Personally, I did think it was easier today than yesteryear, based on the fact of being a woman and given the type of art I like to make and want to make (many of which are conceptual works and performances). Placed in a different time and place, I do not know if I would have the same interests, but certainly I would not have been given the same opportunities and been exposed to the same influences. I am very glad to be here, now.
A good example of artistic work characteristic of our time that would tip the Group of Seven's entourage's definition of art is a current exhibition at the Owens Art Gallery. Conceptual dutch artist William Engelen, as part of the John Cage festival, made work reacting visually and auditorily to white noises at the gallery. One of the results, perhaps ridiculous to lovers of "beautiful" art, is a person-sized styrofoam and dust mobile, twirling softly to the amplified sounds of the ventilation system. The dust, the artist precised verbally to me, was locally harvested at the Owen's Art Gallery.
Yet this kind of art is beautiful for many, since beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Here, beauty (if we must insist on it being found at all) is found in the idea itself, and in the material dedication of the artist to it. Although the visual result may leave the viewer ho-hum (I heard a nervous attendee, swishing his cup of raisin juice, give the artist a searched and staccato-ed compliment about the work's mobility), the ideas of art in the legacy of the Dada are not far behind those of the popular impressionists. In both, it is something within, something deeper than what meets the eye that is being expressed. In this way, the mystical art of the Group of Seven is also no different than Engelen's dust mobile, although I'd be surprised if Frank Johnston agreed.
And now for something completely unrelated.
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