1965: Malcolm in Winter: A Translation Exercise - Theaster Gates @ White Cube Bermondsey

Theaster Gates’ latest exhibition at White Cube Bermondsey brings his typical juxtaposition of the personal and the political, the micro and the macro. Focussed primarily around Malcolm X and the Civil Rights Movement (specifically the more militant side of the Black Panthers) and how this work was carried across the world to a broader discussion of freedoms by two Japanese artists, the exhibition almost takes the form of archive. The video documentaries that are central to the exhibition serve to beautifully explain some of the objects — textures, materials, shapes — that are seen in the individual pieces around the gallery.

In particular, the use of everyday items as canvas, from roof shingles to fire hoses, from vases to pieces of wood and book cases, is quite stunning. The simplicity of the materials reminds the viewer of the personal nature of these huge political acts, and their repercussions.

A libation in Uncertain Times(2024)

Abstract Revolutionary Periodical Superstructure (I stole the Master’s library shelving and filled it with books) (2025) 

Couture @ Louvre

In this first of its kind exhibition, The Louvre in Paris showcases couture pieces amongst the objects in its decorative arts galleries. So amongst the ornate chairs, clocks, cabinets, and rugs, there are gowns, bags, and shoes. Individual pieces are on display in these contexts, highlighting the relationship between beautiful objects that we surround ourselves with, and the beautiful objects we cover ourselves with.

There are many highlights, but a few stand out — the Christian Dior (above) displayed on a massive mirrored floor quite literally takes your breath away. The dramatic crumples and shapes of the skirt reflect at all angles, blue and white in contrast to the reds and blacks of the objects around them with clean lines. It is hard to describe the experience of walking into the space and seeing this piece.

This Rick Owens gown with its folded silk and headdress transcends time in a room of soft florals and cream coloured silks. It is new and yet so clearly related to the old.

And finally, this Schiaparelli, reflecting not only the stars in the shapes around the room, but even the way the sun comes in the window and the overhead lighting reflects on the mirrors. Pure magic.

If you’re brave enough to fight the crowds at the Louvre, it is worth it to get to this quiet and magical exhibition.

Glenn Ligon: All Over The Place at @ Fitzwilliam Museum Cambridge

American artist Glenn Ligon has been granted free reign by the Fitzwilliam, to provide commentary on the absence of Black and Brown faces and perspectives in a museum which in other areas showcases objects from these very people — the spoils of colonialism.

His work connects through language — with a stark visual representation right on the front of the building. A repetition, a dehumanisation, in large white neon glaring in the daylight.

As you move through the gallery, Ligon’s pieces are peppered throughout the rooms. Most powerfully, his series Black Suns appear all over a room, finding negative space and calling our attention to what isn’t seen, what isn’t there. They are like cobwebs creeping into the space from the corners. Travelling through the main rooms with these smaller pieces, you come to an end room where the largest pieces exist, a room of enormous pieces from his Untitled (I Feel Most Colored When I Am Thrown Against A Sharp White Background) and Mirror overwhelming with their commentary on the experience of Blackness in spaces such as these. It is powerful and moving to see the aggressively layered black ink, words blurring and yet filled with meaning and power. The layers of words representative of the years of oppressive language.

Finally, Ligon's most powerful installation is in a long room where he has removed the paintings from the walls. The sun-dyed walls show the outlines of the paintings which were there before, and Ligon keeps a single painting with a single Black body, and one of his own Suns positioned as a star. The room is filled with ghosts and echoes.

Tracey Emin - I followed you to the end @ White Cube Gallery

Emin’s latest exhibition of new work fills White Cube in Bermondsey with the angst and anguish of a scorned lover; a person who has been wronged through love, who leaves, or is left.

The main corridor is lined with miniature paintings, aggressive and sensual in their composition. The larger spaces house the bigger pieces, which tower over the viewer. Continuing to explore themes we have seen from Emin before - bedrooms, sensuality, sex - and toying with absence, there is an almost snarky edgy quality to some of them, despite the anguish they depict. They feel like a breakup song, replete with searing guitar riffs and mashed keyboards. Most stunning were the scenes where the lover is so faint, painted over in white, that it appears to be only the imprint their body left in the bed, not the lover themself. The memory of their warmth.

There is anger here, which at times bubbles, but then fades. A memory of the anger - as much with oneself for being tricked as with the former lover for the transgression.

NOWHERE - Fuel Theatre @ Battersea Arts Centre

Where are we safe? Khalid Abdalla’s solo show leaves nothing untouched in its challenge to the audience. Blending personal history with the politics that overshadow it, Khalid takes us through his family’s history as it relates to revolt, colonialism, and the current imperialist ventures in the West Bank and Palestine.

If it sounds heavy, it is - at times. But at times it is also darkly funny, light, playful, and despite the darkness, filled with hope.

Director Omar Elerian uses a brilliant blend of media to bring us this story - projections of old photographs, video which is and is not live (and it hard to tell when it transitions), and perhaps most movingly, images on a phone. To give the audience a story about contemporary uprisings which are made possible in many ways by the smartphone, which we far away primarily learn about through our phones, is nothing short of genius.

The play moves at a blistering pace and yet feels gentle, thoughtful. The performance, production, and script all come together in the most beautiful way, that the audience are left a little breathless, a little teary, and completely reminded of why we make theatre. This. This is why.

The Detour of Identity - Roni Horn @ The Louisiana Museum of Art

Words and images are my currency. Words accompanying images, snippets of ideas evoking response. So it is unsurprising that I’m drawn to artists like Roni Horn, for whom words make up such a significant part of the visual representation. Further, the interrogation of image and gender, how we present ourselves to be perceived, how we do perceiving.

The collection of Roni Horn’s work in The Louisiana exhibition is striking, benefitting from the winding hallways and rooms of the space itself. As the exhibition unfolds, images and motifs repeat, return, morph. . and this reflects our own experience of identity. We think we have changed, but then learn we have not.

In particular I enjoyed the photographs of water accompanied by text and observation in the “Still Water” series; mundane words, yet wildly compelling in their meaninglessness and inquiry into how our minds work, what we remember.

There is a dark whimsy to Horn’s work which really resonated for me. Brilliant stuff.

Marina Abramović @ The Royal Academy of Arts

The famed provocateur, not present but as a ghost in the Royal Academy exhibition from Marina Abramović. Organised thematically rather than chronologically, the exhibition felt less like a retrospective than a museum - guiding the viewer through themes and fixation in the artist’s work. Marina, of course, was not present save for in photograph or video, and although there were recreations of some of her most famous performance pieces, they were solely those with nude bodies (fine). What wasn’t fine was that at least while I was there, the only bodies were black and brown — the white famous artist absent, with black and brown (mostly women) in the vulnerable place of performance on her behalf.

That isn’t to say there weren’t interesting elements to engage with; what i found most fascinating were the documentations of performance through text or video, rather than attempts to recreate. And furthermore, the pieces that were most about her own experience of time, pain, stress, versus those that were about creating these moments for the audience. There is an element of cruelty to Abramović’s work, but this is most effective in my opinion when it is an intellectual cruelty or even boredom versus physical discomfort.

All in all, I’m glad I went but also have many questions on why and how this work was facilitated in this space. The first female artist to have a solo retrospective in the Royal Academy, yet perpetuating the exploitation of bodies that were not her own….so simply following in a long line.

I want for theatre.

The below is the first of two meditations on theatre, one year on from in-person theatre virtually stopping around the globe. Many people pine to bring things “back to how they were”. I think we can do better.

I want for theatre.
I want it to spark, to make me think and reflect.
I want it to engage with the current world, but indirectly. 

             to reflect and adapt to our own engagement with physical spaces and landscapes. 

I want to play.
I want plays that play.
I want live experiences that sing from the rooftop about our collective human experience. 

I want collaborative environments and non-hierarchical structures. Environments where creators and audiences are on equal footing, where people can work or watch and feel comfortable, feel they belong.
Environments that let contributors ask for what they need without fear.
Environments that give contributors what they need, rather than acquiescing to time.

I want processes that allow for participants to have lives. To have other jobs if they want, to have more than one career. To have a family when they want to. 

I want theatre that recognizes that only working in the theatre is not a privilege available to everyone. That working class kids can dream of being a part of. That respects and welcomes everyone into the creative process, not just those who fit a certain criteria or have a specific set of experiences. 

I want theatre for people who think theatre isn’t for them. I want theatre for kids who like me, grew up in a poor neighbourhood. Kids who know what it is like to come home from school and have the hydro or water shut off due to an unpaid bill. Who didn’t know anyone who was an artist. Who didn’t have a financial support lineage to pay for school or rent or support while they interned or did apprenticeships before the “real” money came. Kids who had to turn down “great opportunities” to make sure they could eat.

I want theatre that focuses on experiences; those beyond our own, those that create empathy in the creators and viewers and a desire to learn more and take action.

           Theatre that encourages performers to take risks, to try something they have not done before or that scares them, from a safe environment.
To risk.
To be risky; because the very act of performing is risky, and the idea that suggesting one group’s stories may be more risky than another’s is divisive and dangerous.

I want theatre for the community. Theatre that reflects and challenges our view of the world. Tears down our assumptions, and most importantly, our expectations. 

I want for theatre. 

Justin Otto in Tim Crouch’s I, Malvolio for impel Theatre, 2019. Photo by Kendra Jones.

Gross Domestic Product - Banksy in Croydon

Banksy’s public installation stunts are globally publicized events, and relatively rare. So when I learned that I would be in London when his latest was occurring in Croydon, I planned a day around it. Croydon is not a London tourist destination; it is far removed from the museums and theatres and pageantry of Westminster and the West End, and much more closely aligned to the real lives of real Londoners. Taking over a shop window on an otherwise unassuming corner in Croydon, Banksy’s latest work is ever political. Opposite the street market, with vendors selling trays of fruit for a pound, and shops of varying history. . . next to an enormous Primark and Waitrose and Slug and Lettuce poshy pub and a hip new Box Mall, but also empty storefronts and pound shops. The 5 windows of work display a variety of items that will actually be for sale — from empty paint cans and spray painted televisions, to welcome mats embroidered from the fabric of life jackets washed up on shores after boats of refugees met an untimely and tragic death. Disco balls made into police riot helmets. Stuffed animals lambasted or suffocated, and then mounted like hunting trophies. Each item is accompanied by a write up, as they would be in a gallery or online shop, sardonically describing the item and its intended value for the purchaser. Men dressed in beige trench coats and flat caps stand around the area, providing the attendee — many of whom didn’t look like they had been to Croydon or South London before — an image of safety and security, calling to mind images of friendly doormen at posh Regent or Oxford street department stores. People crowded around the windows, snapping photos, largely unaware of the street around them. 

The location was not chosen by accident. Framing this conspicuous relationship to consumerism in the context of gentrification underscores Banksy’s point. Several comments speak to the stealing of ideas, the absence of originality. Banksy has publicly stated that the installation is in response to a card company attempting to infringe on his ownership of the images and work, through exploitation of a loophope in copyright law. It may be this, but it also serves a larger purpose; to remind us that we are all, daily, a part of the capitalist system which not only enables this, but encourages consumption and comfort at the expense of others. 

Brian Jungen Friendship Centre @ AGO

I was fortunate to catch this exhibition in its final days, and am sad I didn’t make it sooner…only as it would have allowed me time to visit again. The first pieces you encounter as you walk from the main gallery into Jungen’s exhibition are mixed material - leathers and ancient natural materials mixed and interspersed with neon lights. They have a magnetic effect, drawing you in as the colours change. It is only after being drawn in that you notice the larger work in the centre of the room, Tombstone, which is plastic making what appears evocative of a turtle shell that at first seems suspended, until you notice the deep black block of filing cabinets beneath it. Turtle island sits on bureaucracy.

From here, you enter through into the larger space, which is pure whimsy. The friendship centre has a floor demarcated like a school gymnasium, with giant totems built of stacks of golf bags positioned in the corners. Dotting the space, almost too many to properly look at, are masks and head dresses and woven blankets created from Nike shoes and shirts. The sheer intricacy of each individual sculpture is overwhelming; how the materials from the shoes align perfectly to create pattern and balance. Something deeper is here in the undercurrent, only occasionally becoming overt with pieces like I Shall Be Released, which departs from the whimsy to a place of struggle.

This gives way as you walk through a hallway of lockers, to the most political pieces. A whale skeleton made of plastic chairs. Gerry cans painted in primary colours. Chairs wrapped in dark fabrics. The constriction is palpable here.

As you move back through to exit the installation, passing through the sculptured Nikes that initially seemed so whimsical, the dark colours seem more prominent. More present. Something you can’t forget.

Brian Jungen - I Shall Be Released, 2015

thoughts. Art school privilege

A recently released study has indicated that almost 70% of students entering Toronto's public art-focused high schools identify as white, and predominantly come from wealthier households, which as you can imagine, has called into question not only the admissions process, but the courses themselves. I don't think that it takes a lot of inquiry to identify the root causes of this problem: first, accessibility to the key genres of art that are assessed in the admissions process, and second, accessibility (and reality) of the ability to create and sustain a career in the arts if you do not come from a position of privilege. 

Lets deal with the first point; what is taught. Art schools tend to admit students who have a pre-identified strength in an area, whether it be music, dance, visual art, and the criteria for these strengths lends itself to favour those who have had some kind of training. How, for example, could someone with no formal training in dance walk comfortably into an audition and succeed? It would be only those students who hold a particularly adept natural skill, and a significant amount of courage or self confidence. Thus as you can imagine, the first obstacle of having the courage is then met by the second obstacle of appropriate preparation, which then, if those hurdles are cleared, there is, of course, standing out in a room full of skilled and at least partially trained performers. Is it any wonder that the admitted students skew toward higher income households, where they are more likely to have access to training? When siting across that table as an audition panel, how much are we looking for a partially moulded pre-trained package, versus someone whose talent is raw and untouched, but will need a lot of work?  It is so easy to default to those who already have some of the skills as a baseline, rather than give the public school opportunity to the kid who wouldn't otherwise afford to get music or dance or art lessons? 

Even if we look past those hurdles, and wipe that clean, interest in those more traditional fields is an issue; if someone is a street artist, is their work going to be accepted or valued the same? What about someone who can't play piano or violin, but can work a TR8 like no one's business, and can compose music like you've never heard before? Or what about someone whose work is multidisciplinary? This is often something that even as adults is just beginning to be valued and encouraged, so is it being encouraged amongst middle schoolers applying to these stringent application criteria? 

This in part leads us to the second point: feasibility. I grew up in a family where a career in the arts was something of a pipe dream, and where my own growth, education, and access was slowed by the fact that I couldn't simply afford to do free apprenticeships, volunteer my time, or go on a tour for months for a couple thousand dollars. When you grow up in a space where there are few working artists around you, and where there is no safety net enabling you to "focus only on your art" and not have a backup, your ability to develop as an artist, to take advantage of all the "emerging artist" platforms that might require you not to work another job or to fly to another city (on your own dime) are just not open to you. So if you're 13 years old, and looking at your future....does this seem reasonable? And as a parent of a 13 year old, no matter how much talent or how big the dreams of your child are, won't you want them to have something more reliable and steady that can ensure they are fed and clothed and safe as they enter adulthood? How likely are you to encourage this career path, starting at a specialized high school?  

We need to do more for kids. We need to provide better public school art education from very early on. I can directly associate my own perserverence as an artist (and success, if you can call it that) to a few early connections I made. I had an amazing music teacher in elementary school, and then had an amazing opportunity to create a brand new musical whilst still in primary school with professional artists who had just come from Ukraine. As I got older, I was lucky enough to get dance training, but even that was at a huge cost to my parents who were working non stop to give us those opportunities. I recognize the good fortune and privilege I have had in that regard, and also acknowledge that it was a lot less than those around me. 

We cannot allow young artists with something to say to be silenced simply due to access, and pretend to call our system "public" education. The admissions process as well as the content of courses requires serious examination to ensure the continued validity of these programs. Their necessity doesn't need proving. 

review. My Arm by Tim Crouch @ Harbourfront Centre World Stage Redux

"No one ever asked me to take my arm down."

My Arm is the first play Crouch wrote, and it is filled with a sense of playfulness that is difficult to articulate. Told by one performer (Crouch) with the aid of every day objects collected from the audience, and the use of a doll, and a video camera, My Arm follows the story of a young boy whose determination sets the course of his life. Always speaking in the first person, it is the source of some enjoyable humour when the character's described actions or appearance are so clearly at odds with the performer we see in front of us. 

Crouch's choice to not "act" but rather "tell" the story renders the piece far more theatrical than it would be were the same story realized through traditional theatrical "embodiment". Yet Crouch tells the story with more intense focus and "liveness" (that much debated concept in Toronto theatres these days) than most other actors I can think of in recent memory. 

The play itself raises a multitude of questions about ethics in art. Of course, demanding we ask ourselves what is art versus artifice (or scam?), but also when the characters in the story begin marking art, it demands questions of responsibility and ethics in relationship to a subject. When representing someone in your work without their knowledge, when drawing them or representing their "story" in your work, when offering the subject funds for their representation when it is clear no other choice is feasible, and even further, the ethics of responsibility to a child or loved one. This is all juxtaposed with the careful and specific manner in which Crouch requests objects from the audience to use in the performance, both in his spoken text, and in the program note. 

Crouch is a masterful storyteller, managing immense pauses, improvised object theatre, all while keeping the audience utterly captivated while he plays with these ideas and our imaginations. 

I have many more thoughts on this piece, and will soon share them.  

review. How To Build a House Museum - Theaster Gates @ AGO- Art Gallery of Ontario

Unlike a lot of solo shows one expects to find at a gallery of the reputation of the AGO, the work of Theaster Gates is considerably more ephemeral, more disruptive, more inherently political. In asking his question, "how do we determine whose house to commemorate" and conflating this with the House Music movement, Gates demands that the viewer acknowledge our own limited purview of who "deserves" to be recognized. 

Upon entering the main space, the music (which is at a quite loud volume) pierces the air, and draws you toward the Reel House, a tribute to Chicago musician and pioneer Frankie Knuckles. The joyful and energetic music creates a safe space, one where it is okay to relax and engage personally with the artwork, and contrary to many much more sterile and silent gallery experiences.

Surrounding the Reel House are several canvases with geometric shapes in primary colours. At first glance they appear to reference modernist painting, however upon further view into other rooms, you learn that these are visual representations of scientific charts which show statistics of black households in the period surrounding emancipation. Progress is the key underlying message, and this meters our response to Gates' initial question.

The final space, Progress Palace, is the culmination of these ideals. It is a separated room to enter, where a new group of sounds fill the darkened, purple-lit space. The large physical installation  Houseberg creates fascinating reflection patterns on the wall as it turns slowly. The projected images cycle in tandem with the music which emanates from a skeleton of a DJ booth, playing the video House Heads Liberation Training, with dancers and singers in un-practiced sound and movement. This deconstruction of a nightclub space is wonderful to experience solo -- the absence of other people in the space highlights the potential that occurs when these forms intersect. The theatrical nature of the potential within this constructed (or deconstructed?) space is captivating. 

Gates exhibition as a whole is absolutely work seeing -- runs until October 30th at the AGO.  

review. Just A Sliver of the Room and Astronomical Landscapes @ Angell Gallery

I made the trek across Toronto this Saturday to take in the current exhibitions at the Angell Gallery, and could not be happier I did. Arriving at the gallery, it is definitely not a space you'd suspect; tucked in the back corner of a business mini-mall, the outside of the gallery is unassuming, which amplified the drama of the first set of pieces, Steve Driscoll's Just A Sliver of the Room even more. 

Taking a fairly large and open space, Driscoll's vibrant and reflective landscapes jump out against the white walls. Their positioning around the space however, is what is most dramatic. Not only are the paintings themselves steeped in an ecstatic energy, but they are presented in a space filled with black water, which the viewer crosses on a board walk constructed across the space. The resulting immersion in this space which is both bright and dark as well as endlessly reflective has a fantastic result. 

Steve Driscoll

Flashes of Silence, 2016

Urethane on board

You move through this space into the second gallery where Dan Hudson's Astronomical Landscapes take the focus. Each of these long and wide lenticular photographs have a magical quality to them. Every perspective in the room offers a new version of each image, so that the viewer is truly transfixed.  The changeable nature of the world around us is present and comforting in the photographs. 

Dan Hudson

Queen Louise, 2015

Lenticular photograph

Leaving this space and walking back across the board walk, one is struck by the new perspective offered, and the reflection of the bright colours in the black water gains new significance. 

Overall both collections are excellent, however it is in tandem that they have the most notable power over our recollection of space and time.