For works that are as much about how they’re made as what they show, the pieces in I Have A Vision In My Mind Of A Life That I’ve Left Behind have a presence, as they punctuate the walls that surround you in the Showroom Gallery at NAC. All are massive works: the sheer physical nature of the show (with pieces as big as the industrial garage door that also is in the space, that – with its implications of travel – seems to work with the large collaborative paintings) will be the first impression it makes on you. The titles also imply “elsewhere” or, again, the exotica of other places: Feels Like California or Lucid Dreams of the Northern Passage or (my future home) Berlin. That city, invoked by the title, is also relevant to this show for another reason, but before I explore that, let us go then, you and I, to the statement of the artists in this show. The installation allows for your to stand in the middle of the gallery as you read their words, and be engulfed in the landscape of their works, and I suggest you do so when you visit.
Vision presents “collaborative paintings created by two brothers [Cody and Connor Smith], while living 5000 kilometres apart from each other. Their collaborative process involved sending paintings back and forth between Toronto and Vancouver over the course of one year. The resulting works are hybrid images that existed simultaneously in multiple geographical areas.” This sense of two artists can be seen in how the pieces betray some very different styles of mark making, and some very different use of texture, line and other formal aspects. But to return to my earlier comment about Berlin: in the recent debates regarding monuments and history, Berlin was cited as a space with contentious baggage that has managed to mark what has happened in a considered and genuine way (Eisenman and Happold’s Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe is such a work). So, in light of how the works presented by the Smiths are less capturing a place than a creation of one, incorporating memories or impressions as much as any “real” imagery of the place, pieces like Upper Canada or (appropriately titled, suggesting brevity and a fleeting nature) Glimpse are more interpretations than representations. Unless, of course, it’s understood that these are personal representations: paintings are often more creation of a moment than a photographic “capture” of one.
The pieces in their size shouldn’t dissuade you from examining respective details: the gloppy dabs and dollops of paint, like indexical proof of the frenetic painting of one of the Smiths are built upon with more subtle lines. The latter, finer marks are less expressive but are like editing, forming the original spattersmattersplatter into a cyclist, or a building, or another recognizable subject. Other sections, with dazzling yellows and blues offer respite from the intense scratchy marks that convey action and an intense hand (oil, acrylic, chalk, charcoal and marker are listed as mediums, but really, I imagine anything that facilitates and is at hand, with the sense of immediacy with these works, has been used). In their statement, they offer that the paintings are ongoing, never actually being finished, and that the collaboration is at times adversarial, at other times more united, and the logistics of sending the works (canvas is easily stretched / restretched / stretched) back and forth can be both an advantage (time to consider) and problem (one’s vision isn’t just left behind, or is actively sent away to be effected, or changed, or degraded by another’s vision). A moon, in dirty whites and dark greens, floating in a pure blue sky whose flatness is complimented by the yellow gold architecture of a building floating above water (there seems to be water, or waterways in all the works; again, suggesting a “road” to elsewhere, a river flowing away, with the prominence of boats and vessels here, too) is a highlight. Paint that looks like string, both in its raised texture, and how it tangles and twists and creates forms less than it creates action is common: the cyclists in one work are less dramatic than the ‘x’ of the spokes on their bikes that catch your eye across the gallery.
I Have A Vision In My Mind Of A Life That I’ve Left Behind is on display in the NAC Showroom Gallery until the middle of January, 2018: visit the show a few times, as the size of the works may initially intimidate, and their strengths can be found in the details.