Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Alexander McQueen: Savage Beauty at the Met!
Miriam wrote a blog about her trip to New York! Check it out over at Mir Handbags!
Monday, June 6, 2011
McCord Classics
Instead of one museum a week, it's been more like one a month. But that's ok, we are still getting out to see some good collections. We actually went to the McCord Museum in May, but I'm just a bit late in posting. The McCord is a classic Montreal museum. There were several exhibits that proved engaging and interesting. I admit to being very susceptible to "museum" burnout: that is, after one exhibition, I'm done, and my eyes just glaze over. But there were a couple good ones here that kept me interested.
First was 90 Treasures, 90 Stories, 90 Years, a retrospective on the museum's collection. I love how eclectic this can be. It allows me to be o.k. with dismissing certain objects, while saving my excitement for others. Here are some examples of items on display:
1) A lock of hair from James Wolfe. A lock of hair?!
2) A ticket to the 1867 international exhibition in Philadelphia. This was interesting because the ticket had the bearer's photograph on it. It was more like a modern day trade-show I.D. or something.
3) Rocket Richard's sweater. #9. Oddly, this was object #11. They couldn't have moved a couple around to make the numbers match?
4) The last wishes of Louis Riel. A bit hard to read, but I imagine they said "an NHL team for Winnipeg."
5) A bit of art from Henri Julien. The artist, not the street. He drew the Flying Bark Canoe! But this was a drawing of soldiers leaving for the Boer War.
6) Maps. Maps are always winners for me. A map of the Americas from 1579 was not that far off being right.
7) The last item was an iconic set of photos taken from an album of William Watson Ogilvie's trip to France, Italy, England, Ireland, Egypt, Malta, Lebanon and Palestine. You could say they were clichéd shots, but they were taken in 1867-8, so you could also say they were the seminal back-packer shots. Pretty sure that guy did not travel with a backpack, though.
The next exhibit, upstairs, was Montréal Panorama by André Cornellier. He was inspired by an older version of something similar from 1896. He went up on a rooftop in St. Henri, and took over 5000 photos of the city, throughout the year, and then put them together to form a panorama. The effect is epic.
Finally, we went upstairs to see the Indian Act Exhibit. We were expecting it to be a bit of a downer, but it was kind of funny. There was a funny bit about a guy getting a rock from a little girl, and because of some obscure part of the Act saying he needed the permission of the minister to destroy the rock, because it was given on Native land, he writes to the minister to find out what to do. He receives several bureaucratic responses, which are posted there, presumably to ridicule the whole idea of the Indian Act. I get it, but it also shows that the government KNOWS parts of the act are impractical. Also, just because a piece of law says "the minister's permission" does not mean you actually need the minister's permission, personally. That's true of all Acts, not just the Indian Act. So, yeah, funny, but not really as cutting a cultural criticism as it might first seem.
That's it for this one. I hope we will be able to get to another museum soon!
First was 90 Treasures, 90 Stories, 90 Years, a retrospective on the museum's collection. I love how eclectic this can be. It allows me to be o.k. with dismissing certain objects, while saving my excitement for others. Here are some examples of items on display:
1) A lock of hair from James Wolfe. A lock of hair?!
2) A ticket to the 1867 international exhibition in Philadelphia. This was interesting because the ticket had the bearer's photograph on it. It was more like a modern day trade-show I.D. or something.
3) Rocket Richard's sweater. #9. Oddly, this was object #11. They couldn't have moved a couple around to make the numbers match?
4) The last wishes of Louis Riel. A bit hard to read, but I imagine they said "an NHL team for Winnipeg."
5) A bit of art from Henri Julien. The artist, not the street. He drew the Flying Bark Canoe! But this was a drawing of soldiers leaving for the Boer War.
6) Maps. Maps are always winners for me. A map of the Americas from 1579 was not that far off being right.
7) The last item was an iconic set of photos taken from an album of William Watson Ogilvie's trip to France, Italy, England, Ireland, Egypt, Malta, Lebanon and Palestine. You could say they were clichéd shots, but they were taken in 1867-8, so you could also say they were the seminal back-packer shots. Pretty sure that guy did not travel with a backpack, though.
The next exhibit, upstairs, was Montréal Panorama by André Cornellier. He was inspired by an older version of something similar from 1896. He went up on a rooftop in St. Henri, and took over 5000 photos of the city, throughout the year, and then put them together to form a panorama. The effect is epic.
Finally, we went upstairs to see the Indian Act Exhibit. We were expecting it to be a bit of a downer, but it was kind of funny. There was a funny bit about a guy getting a rock from a little girl, and because of some obscure part of the Act saying he needed the permission of the minister to destroy the rock, because it was given on Native land, he writes to the minister to find out what to do. He receives several bureaucratic responses, which are posted there, presumably to ridicule the whole idea of the Indian Act. I get it, but it also shows that the government KNOWS parts of the act are impractical. Also, just because a piece of law says "the minister's permission" does not mean you actually need the minister's permission, personally. That's true of all Acts, not just the Indian Act. So, yeah, funny, but not really as cutting a cultural criticism as it might first seem.
That's it for this one. I hope we will be able to get to another museum soon!
Friday, April 1, 2011
Nurses and Nuns: Musée des Hospitalières de l'Hotel-Dieu de Montréal
This weekend we went to the Musée des Hospitalières de l'Hotel-Dieu de Montréal. We tried to go on Saturday, but the power was out, so we went back on Sunday.
John:
My first thought when I see the name is always that Hotel-Dieu seems somewhat pessimistic for a place that is supposed to cure you. I guess the idea is that God is doing the curing, but it also kind of implies that you will be seeing God soon, and that's not really a good reputation for a hospital to have, is it?
In any case, this modest exhibit covered two floors, as well as some interesting displays of early Canadian medical implements. They have a fine collection of glass nose douches, by the way, if you are feeling stuffed up...
Like most museums, the exhibit starts by situating the visitor in the history of the place. So the first few bits were about Montreal history, Paul Chomedy de Maisonneuve, and Jeanne Mance. One historical fun fact is the existence of the "Society of Notre Dame de Montreal for the Conversion of Savages." Love the modesty there.
The exhibit got more interesting when we moved past the cloister, into the inner sanctum of the sisters' lives. We were greeted by a mannequin decked out in nun's gear. The problem is, most mannequins are made to sell clothes, so she had a kind of sultry look on her face, as if she had a much more interesting storefront job going underneath that habit. Anyway, it was freaky.
The cell, as the sisters' rooms were called, was really very much a cell. I have to wonder, as slight as my feminist leanings are, whether this whole sisterhood thing was just a way for the Catholic Church to lock up the women so they wouldn't tempt good Christian men with their wiles. Yeah, that sounds about right. On the bright side, though, a very fun name card on the door:
Jesus! Yay! The ceremony to become a nun is very much like a wedding, which makes sense, since the idea was that you were marrying the Church, or Christ, as it were.
Just outside the cell was the bar. It was not that kind of bar, of course, but a pharmaceutical bar. No, not that kind of pharmaceutical, either. Wine was still kept as one of the healing products, though. And the bar itself was quite nice, a colourful painted glass:
It's pretty nice.
The second floor was much more clinical and historical. The numbers of patients and the names of doctors were recorded as though they were graduates of (the same) great school. The doctors' tools, hopelessly out of date now, must have been objects of much pride and debate, too, at the time. But the exhibit finishes where it started, with the sisters, now part of the governmental bureaucracy, the hospital administration having been mostly handed over to the authorities, and all the nurses having gone through school, instead of just the convent. The exhibit ties back to Montreal history, too, with a few words on the development of the public health care system.
Miriam will have her post up soon!
John:
My first thought when I see the name is always that Hotel-Dieu seems somewhat pessimistic for a place that is supposed to cure you. I guess the idea is that God is doing the curing, but it also kind of implies that you will be seeing God soon, and that's not really a good reputation for a hospital to have, is it?
In any case, this modest exhibit covered two floors, as well as some interesting displays of early Canadian medical implements. They have a fine collection of glass nose douches, by the way, if you are feeling stuffed up...
Like most museums, the exhibit starts by situating the visitor in the history of the place. So the first few bits were about Montreal history, Paul Chomedy de Maisonneuve, and Jeanne Mance. One historical fun fact is the existence of the "Society of Notre Dame de Montreal for the Conversion of Savages." Love the modesty there.
The exhibit got more interesting when we moved past the cloister, into the inner sanctum of the sisters' lives. We were greeted by a mannequin decked out in nun's gear. The problem is, most mannequins are made to sell clothes, so she had a kind of sultry look on her face, as if she had a much more interesting storefront job going underneath that habit. Anyway, it was freaky.
The cell, as the sisters' rooms were called, was really very much a cell. I have to wonder, as slight as my feminist leanings are, whether this whole sisterhood thing was just a way for the Catholic Church to lock up the women so they wouldn't tempt good Christian men with their wiles. Yeah, that sounds about right. On the bright side, though, a very fun name card on the door:
Jesus! Yay! The ceremony to become a nun is very much like a wedding, which makes sense, since the idea was that you were marrying the Church, or Christ, as it were.
Just outside the cell was the bar. It was not that kind of bar, of course, but a pharmaceutical bar. No, not that kind of pharmaceutical, either. Wine was still kept as one of the healing products, though. And the bar itself was quite nice, a colourful painted glass:
The second floor was much more clinical and historical. The numbers of patients and the names of doctors were recorded as though they were graduates of (the same) great school. The doctors' tools, hopelessly out of date now, must have been objects of much pride and debate, too, at the time. But the exhibit finishes where it started, with the sisters, now part of the governmental bureaucracy, the hospital administration having been mostly handed over to the authorities, and all the nurses having gone through school, instead of just the convent. The exhibit ties back to Montreal history, too, with a few words on the development of the public health care system.
Miriam will have her post up soon!
Friday, March 4, 2011
Solo mission: Marconi's Ruins
This week I skipped out of the regular museum rotation to see a neat little exhibit at Concordia's Communications Department. I was hosted by Heather Ferguson, a graduate student in the Master's in Media Studies program. I met Heather on the internet, through a Toronto Maple Leafs blog. It's always interesting to meet internet people in person. Also interesting is Heather's area of research. She's looking at how the words in art exhibits influence the way people see the exhibits. She can be found on Twitter and on Tumblr.
Marconi's ruins is an exhibit of photographs and artifacts from the abandoned site of Guglielmo Marconi's transatlantic wireless station, near Glace Bay, Nova Scotia. The station was the first of its kind, established in 1907. One might view the exhibit as simply photos of old junk, especially if one doesn't have much knowledge of transistors and tubes and the like, but what's really fascinating about it is the fact that such an historic site could remain abandoned, even run-down, for so long. In Baddeck, Nova Scotia, the Alexander Graham Bell museum is a national historic site. Marconi's place is basically a junkyard. Why the difference?
I don't have an answer, and neither do the artists Michael Longford and Robert Prenovault. Like many good works of art, it proposes more questions than answers. I can imagine the socio-economic situation of Cape Breton contributes to the lack of prestige for Marconi. The superiority of the telephone over the telegraph would be another.
It's interesting to see the development of communications technology. Looking at one of the transistor tubes racked up against the wall, I commented to Heather that it was just like one of the "series of tubes" that make up the Internet. Marconi's Ruins made me wonder if one day a similar installation would be made of server farms, as we move towards cloud technology. Or a pit of abandoned cell phones, rendered obsolete by the invention of...whatever the next thing might be.
Marconi's ruins is an exhibit of photographs and artifacts from the abandoned site of Guglielmo Marconi's transatlantic wireless station, near Glace Bay, Nova Scotia. The station was the first of its kind, established in 1907. One might view the exhibit as simply photos of old junk, especially if one doesn't have much knowledge of transistors and tubes and the like, but what's really fascinating about it is the fact that such an historic site could remain abandoned, even run-down, for so long. In Baddeck, Nova Scotia, the Alexander Graham Bell museum is a national historic site. Marconi's place is basically a junkyard. Why the difference?
I don't have an answer, and neither do the artists Michael Longford and Robert Prenovault. Like many good works of art, it proposes more questions than answers. I can imagine the socio-economic situation of Cape Breton contributes to the lack of prestige for Marconi. The superiority of the telephone over the telegraph would be another.
It's interesting to see the development of communications technology. Looking at one of the transistor tubes racked up against the wall, I commented to Heather that it was just like one of the "series of tubes" that make up the Internet. Marconi's Ruins made me wonder if one day a similar installation would be made of server farms, as we move towards cloud technology. Or a pit of abandoned cell phones, rendered obsolete by the invention of...whatever the next thing might be.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Terracotta Life
This snowy Sunday was a perfect museum day. We braved the crowds and took in a much-hyped exhibit at the Musée des Beaux Arts: China's Terracotta Army.
John:
I admit to not knowing about this incredible archeological find before seeing this exhibit. I wanted to go because I don't know much about Chinese history, and China's a pretty big deal, so I thought I should know about that.
At first, I was underwhelmed. The exhibit starts with the usual bowls and knick-knacks that you find in museums, fittings for a horse bridle or belt buckles: basically the regular stuff of people who are famous because we found their stuff, but who might not otherwise have been. Or perhaps people who wanted to be famous, but weren't: the title of Duke ranked just below that of a King in the states at that time. It was often appropriated without permission. Sort of like Hollywood royalty, perhaps.
The bits about architecture were neat as well: a drainage pipe, and a mock-up of a palace. I find it funny that people look so hard at the mock-ups. They are not likely to be that close to the real thing, it seems to me.
I found the objects very similar to Egyptian artifacts. The installers (instalationists?) of this show knew what they were doing, though, hinting in that direction. The history lesson written around the exhibit was instructive. Ying Zheng was the name of the First Emperor of China. From his state of Qin (from whence the name comes, I imagine), he conquered all the other states and unified the land. The next room informed us on his thoughts about succession and the afterlife, and noted some interesting finds in a tomb: stone helmets and armour. The exhibit itself is coy about these: No one knows what they are for, it says, they are too heavy for real people.
The well-informed visitor knows where this is going. I did not. The next room has what looks like a couple statues of soldiers. Ok, no big deal. I read the plaque and it refers to Pit #1. It slowly dawns on me that they found not just a couple statues, sort of like you might find in an Egyptian pyramid, to honour the dead, but an entire army made of stone, all drilled up and ready to march. It blew my mind.
But wait, there's more. Not only did this guy build an army to protect himself in the afterlife, he built the whole afterlife! An entire world created out of clay lived underground near the burial mound that housed his tomb. There were courts, gardens, acrobats, animals. And as true to life as can be, right down to the horses' balls. Well done on the museum for revealing this so gradually, bit by bit, so as to maximize the wow factor. I suppose for those going in knowing what it was all about, the effect is lessened, but it hit me pretty hard.
The sections on the subsequent Han dynasty further emphasises the scale and scope of Zheng's production. The next emperors thought it was a good idea, so they built similarly populated tombs, but they were no where near as detailed as the first.
It's amazing the lengths people will go to to ensure they are remembered. Ironically, the First Emperor built this complex post-life society with the mind that he and his line would rule for 10,000 years. They lasted 4. His son was apparently ineffective and the empire broke up into civil war until the Han dynasty calmed things down.
Miriam:
Une semaine plus tard je vous écris enfin mon blog sur le Musée des beaux arts. En général c'est mon musée préférer à Montréal, mais cette exposition m'a laissé un peu indifférente. Je ne sais pas si c'est parce qu'il y avait trop de monde, pas assez de contenue ou parce que j'ai eu l'impression que les objets exposés étaient principalement des reproductions, mais je suis sortie de l'exposition sans rien de plus. Normalement les musées me changent au moins temporairement, mais cette fois, rien.
Je vous conseillerais d'aller voir l'exposition si vous avez une passion particulière pour la culture chinoise et que vous puissiez y aller à un moment peu achalandé.
Meilleur chance la prochaine fois.
John:
I admit to not knowing about this incredible archeological find before seeing this exhibit. I wanted to go because I don't know much about Chinese history, and China's a pretty big deal, so I thought I should know about that.
At first, I was underwhelmed. The exhibit starts with the usual bowls and knick-knacks that you find in museums, fittings for a horse bridle or belt buckles: basically the regular stuff of people who are famous because we found their stuff, but who might not otherwise have been. Or perhaps people who wanted to be famous, but weren't: the title of Duke ranked just below that of a King in the states at that time. It was often appropriated without permission. Sort of like Hollywood royalty, perhaps.
The bits about architecture were neat as well: a drainage pipe, and a mock-up of a palace. I find it funny that people look so hard at the mock-ups. They are not likely to be that close to the real thing, it seems to me.
I found the objects very similar to Egyptian artifacts. The installers (instalationists?) of this show knew what they were doing, though, hinting in that direction. The history lesson written around the exhibit was instructive. Ying Zheng was the name of the First Emperor of China. From his state of Qin (from whence the name comes, I imagine), he conquered all the other states and unified the land. The next room informed us on his thoughts about succession and the afterlife, and noted some interesting finds in a tomb: stone helmets and armour. The exhibit itself is coy about these: No one knows what they are for, it says, they are too heavy for real people.
The well-informed visitor knows where this is going. I did not. The next room has what looks like a couple statues of soldiers. Ok, no big deal. I read the plaque and it refers to Pit #1. It slowly dawns on me that they found not just a couple statues, sort of like you might find in an Egyptian pyramid, to honour the dead, but an entire army made of stone, all drilled up and ready to march. It blew my mind.
But wait, there's more. Not only did this guy build an army to protect himself in the afterlife, he built the whole afterlife! An entire world created out of clay lived underground near the burial mound that housed his tomb. There were courts, gardens, acrobats, animals. And as true to life as can be, right down to the horses' balls. Well done on the museum for revealing this so gradually, bit by bit, so as to maximize the wow factor. I suppose for those going in knowing what it was all about, the effect is lessened, but it hit me pretty hard.
The sections on the subsequent Han dynasty further emphasises the scale and scope of Zheng's production. The next emperors thought it was a good idea, so they built similarly populated tombs, but they were no where near as detailed as the first.
It's amazing the lengths people will go to to ensure they are remembered. Ironically, the First Emperor built this complex post-life society with the mind that he and his line would rule for 10,000 years. They lasted 4. His son was apparently ineffective and the empire broke up into civil war until the Han dynasty calmed things down.
Miriam:
Une semaine plus tard je vous écris enfin mon blog sur le Musée des beaux arts. En général c'est mon musée préférer à Montréal, mais cette exposition m'a laissé un peu indifférente. Je ne sais pas si c'est parce qu'il y avait trop de monde, pas assez de contenue ou parce que j'ai eu l'impression que les objets exposés étaient principalement des reproductions, mais je suis sortie de l'exposition sans rien de plus. Normalement les musées me changent au moins temporairement, mais cette fois, rien.
Je vous conseillerais d'aller voir l'exposition si vous avez une passion particulière pour la culture chinoise et que vous puissiez y aller à un moment peu achalandé.
Meilleur chance la prochaine fois.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Multiculturalism is a Montreal value
Yesterday we visited Pointe-à-Callière, Montreal Museum of Archaeology and History. There were three main exhibits that we saw: one about the history of St. Catherine Street, another about the history of the museum site in Old Montreal, and a third called Montreal Love Stories, that is an introduction to the many cultural communities and various heritages that make up present-day Montreal.
John:
This might be my favourite museum so far: it had maps, streetcars, hockey, ruins and dioramas. The exhibition on St. Catherine Street allowed the visitor to take in the entire history of Montreal, from 1760 to 2011. Focusing on one street and its development is a great way to get a lot of info into one exhibit. The series of maps that show the growth of the street also detail the growth of the city from when it was just the Old Port and farm land, to the heyday in the 19th century, to the decay after the Quiet Revolution (way to ruin it, ruiners), to a rebound today. There were three main subjects: entertainment, shopping and community. The entertainment portion featured photos from the first movie theatres, and of course Lili St-Cyr's famous reverse strip-tease. I love that Montreal had a DA who tried to "clean up" the town, as Pax Plante teamed up with Jean Drapeau in 1946 to tear down all the brothels, only to leave the women of the night on the street. Sex in Montreal is just an inevitability: why fight it? Another inevitability is shopping. The development of big department stores, and later specialty boutiques, defined St. Catherine and was part of what made Montreal the economic engine of Canada for a long time. Even as stores changed hands (check out how the Morgan's M recalls the B of its new owner, the Hudson's Bay company), the people kept coming. They got there on the streetcar, and then the metro. The metro was built under de Maisonneuve and Dorchester so as not to disturb the main shopping drag on St. Catherine. Now, the shopping malls sprawl under the street, spanning from the Green line to the Orange line.
It's amazing how quickly and easily we get to today as we walk along St. Catherine. I had to buy the book in order to really drink it all in. It's too cold now, but the exhibit made me want to walk the length of the street, from Westmount to the east end, and remember each section, each story. It's only 11km long, but it has about 250 years of history to it.
The basement of the museum houses its permanent collection, another view of Montreal's history, this time from the museum's site, which was formerly the Royal Insurance building, as well as an old Customs Office, and also the site of Montreal's first cemetery. The empty graves and shadow's projected on the stone walls was Platonically eerie. They list all the dead, Iroquois and European, and how they died. The official causes of death were: killed by Iroquois, accidental death or natural death. For the Iroquois, there's no indication of whether they were killed by Europeans. Ah, the old Quebecois arrogance is never far...
The Montreal Love Stories exhibit is strictly for tourists, I have to say. It's just an overview of Montreal's ethnic neighbourhoods, some videos of multi-cultural couples, and displays of "cultural" objects, like the 5 K's of Sikhism, or a set of bocce balls. Seriously. I suppose as a Torontonian and now a Montrealer, multiculturalism is not really museum worthy to me, it's just a way of life. It's just normal that different people can live together and get along. I don't see the big deal. Although when the Parti Quebecois' culture critic Louise Beaudoin says that "multiculturalism is not a Quebec value," I can see why it's important to put it out there.
Miriam:
Hier nous sommes allés au musée de la Pointe-à-Caillière, nommé d'après le premier gouverneur de la Nouvelle-France qui y avait établi résidence.
Le musée est très intéressant et la visite des ruines nous mets en contexte histoire de Montréal. L'exposition sur la rue Sainte-Catherine et charmante et bien remplie, tellement qu'elle serait bien mieux installée dans une salle beaucoup plus grande.
Ce qui m'amène à un sujet qui devrait être rappelé régulièrement aux visiteurs de musée en général et qui pourrait dans certain cas faire le saut à la vie de touts les jours.
1. S.V.P. gardez vos distances.
Le musée est une expérience que vous devez partager avec le public, si vous êtes à 30cm de l'affiche, peinture ou autre, vous empêcher toutes les autres personnes derrière vous d'apprécier l'expérience.
2. Pensez-y a deux fois avant de donner votre opinions.
Il est certain que pour plusieurs le musée ce partage avec leur accompagnateur et qu'une partie de l'échange ce passe à travère vos commentaires. Pensé aux autres qui n'ont pas pris le tour guidé des commentaires gratuits et déplacés. D'ailleurs vous courer le risque de vous faire rétorquer par quelqu'un qui a des commentaires plus tranchant que vous
3. Lisez dans votre tête
A moins que vous ne fassiez la visite avec un enfant qui ne sait pas lire je vous en prie lisez dans votre tête, car il n'y a rien de plus emmerdant que d'avoir un mec qui lit tout à sa blonde, de grâce laisse la lire pour elle-même!
4. Un peu de respect
Ne vous moquez pas du passé, dans un futur plus proche que vous pensez vos UGG et Canada Goose vont être aussi ridicule que les habits des amérindiens vous semblent maintenant.
Voilà quatre petites règles qui rendent l'expérience pour tous tellement plus intéressant.
Maintenant allez voir pour vous-même le musée de l'archéologie de Montréal. Ça vaut la peine.
Note: Someone else had the same idea as us. Here's what she thought about the Pointe-à-Callière museum. Different exhibits and different perspective.
John:
It's amazing how quickly and easily we get to today as we walk along St. Catherine. I had to buy the book in order to really drink it all in. It's too cold now, but the exhibit made me want to walk the length of the street, from Westmount to the east end, and remember each section, each story. It's only 11km long, but it has about 250 years of history to it.
The basement of the museum houses its permanent collection, another view of Montreal's history, this time from the museum's site, which was formerly the Royal Insurance building, as well as an old Customs Office, and also the site of Montreal's first cemetery. The empty graves and shadow's projected on the stone walls was Platonically eerie. They list all the dead, Iroquois and European, and how they died. The official causes of death were: killed by Iroquois, accidental death or natural death. For the Iroquois, there's no indication of whether they were killed by Europeans. Ah, the old Quebecois arrogance is never far...
The Montreal Love Stories exhibit is strictly for tourists, I have to say. It's just an overview of Montreal's ethnic neighbourhoods, some videos of multi-cultural couples, and displays of "cultural" objects, like the 5 K's of Sikhism, or a set of bocce balls. Seriously. I suppose as a Torontonian and now a Montrealer, multiculturalism is not really museum worthy to me, it's just a way of life. It's just normal that different people can live together and get along. I don't see the big deal. Although when the Parti Quebecois' culture critic Louise Beaudoin says that "multiculturalism is not a Quebec value," I can see why it's important to put it out there.
Miriam:
Hier nous sommes allés au musée de la Pointe-à-Caillière, nommé d'après le premier gouverneur de la Nouvelle-France qui y avait établi résidence.
Le musée est très intéressant et la visite des ruines nous mets en contexte histoire de Montréal. L'exposition sur la rue Sainte-Catherine et charmante et bien remplie, tellement qu'elle serait bien mieux installée dans une salle beaucoup plus grande.
Ce qui m'amène à un sujet qui devrait être rappelé régulièrement aux visiteurs de musée en général et qui pourrait dans certain cas faire le saut à la vie de touts les jours.
1. S.V.P. gardez vos distances.
Le musée est une expérience que vous devez partager avec le public, si vous êtes à 30cm de l'affiche, peinture ou autre, vous empêcher toutes les autres personnes derrière vous d'apprécier l'expérience.
2. Pensez-y a deux fois avant de donner votre opinions.
Il est certain que pour plusieurs le musée ce partage avec leur accompagnateur et qu'une partie de l'échange ce passe à travère vos commentaires. Pensé aux autres qui n'ont pas pris le tour guidé des commentaires gratuits et déplacés. D'ailleurs vous courer le risque de vous faire rétorquer par quelqu'un qui a des commentaires plus tranchant que vous
3. Lisez dans votre tête
A moins que vous ne fassiez la visite avec un enfant qui ne sait pas lire je vous en prie lisez dans votre tête, car il n'y a rien de plus emmerdant que d'avoir un mec qui lit tout à sa blonde, de grâce laisse la lire pour elle-même!
4. Un peu de respect
Ne vous moquez pas du passé, dans un futur plus proche que vous pensez vos UGG et Canada Goose vont être aussi ridicule que les habits des amérindiens vous semblent maintenant.
Voilà quatre petites règles qui rendent l'expérience pour tous tellement plus intéressant.
Maintenant allez voir pour vous-même le musée de l'archéologie de Montréal. Ça vaut la peine.
Note: Someone else had the same idea as us. Here's what she thought about the Pointe-à-Callière museum. Different exhibits and different perspective.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Blue (Dabadee)
This week, we went to the Musée d'art contemporain de Montréal and saw two exhibits: Bleu and Actes de Présences.
John:
Ah, contemporary art. Whenever I go to see contemporary art, I usually have this conversation in my head: "I could do that." "Yes, but you didn't, did you?" "No, but that doesn't make it good art, that just means the person who had the idea to paint the entire canvas blue has a better agent than I do." Ok, maybe that's not exactly fair or true, but I can't help but roll my eyes at some stuff. Don't get me wrong: I like the colour blue! In fact, the two canvases, each painted two shades of solid blue by Claude Tousignant, were quite nice to look at. The darker blue was almost exactly the same shade of blue I chose to paint my living room in Fredericton. Yes, it's true, and though I was criticised for it at the paint store, once we got it on the walls, my decision was valourised.
At least I did learn something new: blue as the representative colour for water emerged only in the 1400s. Prior to that, water had been coloured green on maps. That was the only bit of information I gathered from the exhibit, as the decision to highlight the elements of the collection based on the colour blue seemed to have no other common thread than that. I'm surprised there was no Virgin Mary. There were, however, skies. Genius!
As I was underwhelmed (but not disappointed) by the Blue exhibit, I thought perhaps the Actes de Présences would be more inspiring. It was hit and miss.
First, the misses: The blue canvases were on the simple, minimalist side of things, and that's usually the side I'm on. I'm not a big fan of meta-art, or artist-centric, self-indulgent stuff. A series of photographs of the artist cutting herself with the thorns of a rose? Does it get more high school angst than that? I didn't even bother getting the name. I was also disappointed to read the info next to the Michael Snow piece, Venitian Blind 1970, which told us that the blurry self-portrait head-shots taken by hand with Venice as the background are supposed to remind us that "someone made this." Wow, thanks, I hadn't thought of that. I mean, I understand that perspective is something artists like to play with, and it can be interesting, but this was basically just a series of post-cards of Venice ruined by Snow's squinting mug. Next.
Ok, so there were some things I liked. Dennis Oppenheim's "Two-stage transfer drawing Dennis and Erik" 1971 was pretty cool. The artist, Dennis, had his son, Erik, draw a pattern on his back in magic marker. As Erik was drawing, Dennis tried to draw the same thing on the wall, based on what he was feeling on his back. Then they switched places. The result was not all that attractive or interesting in and of itself, but this is a cool trick of perspective. Not sure it's art, exactly, but it was cool.
The piece that I loved was Francis Alys 4:12 video called El Gringo, from 2003 (second video down in the link). The artist took a video camera into a Mexican village, and was confronted by the local gang of dogs. At first, you see the dogs approaching, from the perspective of the person holding the camera. Then, as the dogs get angrier and more aggressive with their barking, the artist seems to shove the camera in their faces a bit. There are some serious fang shots: cute little dogs become raging wild beasts! Eventually, with six or seven dogs at his heels (or throat!), he abandons the camera to the ground and runs away. We can hear the dogs barking and chasing him away. Then they come back to the camera (still running, left laying in the dirt), nose it, lick it. Back to being cute puppies again!
Well, you can watch the whole thing yourself, but I wanted to describe it, because it was really neat. To me, that's what makes good art: when you want to, no you have to, describe it to someone. The need to share the experience is the essential element for me, which is why some things that are maybe too private (self-cutting? really?) or too banal (measuring tapes stacked as a cone--I have done that one!) turn me off. I guess what I'm saying is, artists, if you want to impress me (and this should be your goal! Ha!), you'll need to come up with a story of some kind, a good colour (like blue!), and cute puppies.
Miriam:
A la demande générale je vais écrire mes pensées en français. Aujourd'hui nous sommes allés au Musée des arts contemporains de Montréal. Pour être entièrement honnête je ne suis pas une grande fanatique de l'art contemporain. Ce n'est pas tout à fait vrai, j'aime beaucoup certaines pièces, mais je n'aime pas les pièces accompagnées de longues descriptions abstraites qui asseyaient de me convaincre que la moitié de la patate trempez dans la gouache rose représente les amours perdus par la sur-urbanisation des terres fertiles durant le 20e siècle. Je trouve que lorsque l'art doit être expliqué c'est parce que l'artiste n'a pas fait son travail. L'exposition "Bleu" a su trouvé des pièces qui évoquaient chez-moi un sentiment de compréhension. En les regardant, j'ai cru être capable comprendre l'état d'âme de l'artiste, sans explication et d'une façon plutôt innée je crois. Ces pièces sont rare mais Bleu a su en regrouper plusieurs. Mais je dois donner une mention spéciale à la boutique du musée. Elle est remplie de curiosité et d'idée cadeau, mais aussi plusieurs créateurs locaux un groupe qui mérite d'être encouragé. Je n'ai rien à dire sur l'exposition "Acte de présence" allez-y un mercredi soir l'accès au musée est gratuit et dites-moi ce que vous en pensez.
John:
Ah, contemporary art. Whenever I go to see contemporary art, I usually have this conversation in my head: "I could do that." "Yes, but you didn't, did you?" "No, but that doesn't make it good art, that just means the person who had the idea to paint the entire canvas blue has a better agent than I do." Ok, maybe that's not exactly fair or true, but I can't help but roll my eyes at some stuff. Don't get me wrong: I like the colour blue! In fact, the two canvases, each painted two shades of solid blue by Claude Tousignant, were quite nice to look at. The darker blue was almost exactly the same shade of blue I chose to paint my living room in Fredericton. Yes, it's true, and though I was criticised for it at the paint store, once we got it on the walls, my decision was valourised.
At least I did learn something new: blue as the representative colour for water emerged only in the 1400s. Prior to that, water had been coloured green on maps. That was the only bit of information I gathered from the exhibit, as the decision to highlight the elements of the collection based on the colour blue seemed to have no other common thread than that. I'm surprised there was no Virgin Mary. There were, however, skies. Genius!
As I was underwhelmed (but not disappointed) by the Blue exhibit, I thought perhaps the Actes de Présences would be more inspiring. It was hit and miss.
First, the misses: The blue canvases were on the simple, minimalist side of things, and that's usually the side I'm on. I'm not a big fan of meta-art, or artist-centric, self-indulgent stuff. A series of photographs of the artist cutting herself with the thorns of a rose? Does it get more high school angst than that? I didn't even bother getting the name. I was also disappointed to read the info next to the Michael Snow piece, Venitian Blind 1970, which told us that the blurry self-portrait head-shots taken by hand with Venice as the background are supposed to remind us that "someone made this." Wow, thanks, I hadn't thought of that. I mean, I understand that perspective is something artists like to play with, and it can be interesting, but this was basically just a series of post-cards of Venice ruined by Snow's squinting mug. Next.
Ok, so there were some things I liked. Dennis Oppenheim's "Two-stage transfer drawing Dennis and Erik" 1971 was pretty cool. The artist, Dennis, had his son, Erik, draw a pattern on his back in magic marker. As Erik was drawing, Dennis tried to draw the same thing on the wall, based on what he was feeling on his back. Then they switched places. The result was not all that attractive or interesting in and of itself, but this is a cool trick of perspective. Not sure it's art, exactly, but it was cool.
The piece that I loved was Francis Alys 4:12 video called El Gringo, from 2003 (second video down in the link). The artist took a video camera into a Mexican village, and was confronted by the local gang of dogs. At first, you see the dogs approaching, from the perspective of the person holding the camera. Then, as the dogs get angrier and more aggressive with their barking, the artist seems to shove the camera in their faces a bit. There are some serious fang shots: cute little dogs become raging wild beasts! Eventually, with six or seven dogs at his heels (or throat!), he abandons the camera to the ground and runs away. We can hear the dogs barking and chasing him away. Then they come back to the camera (still running, left laying in the dirt), nose it, lick it. Back to being cute puppies again!
Well, you can watch the whole thing yourself, but I wanted to describe it, because it was really neat. To me, that's what makes good art: when you want to, no you have to, describe it to someone. The need to share the experience is the essential element for me, which is why some things that are maybe too private (self-cutting? really?) or too banal (measuring tapes stacked as a cone--I have done that one!) turn me off. I guess what I'm saying is, artists, if you want to impress me (and this should be your goal! Ha!), you'll need to come up with a story of some kind, a good colour (like blue!), and cute puppies.
Miriam:
A la demande générale je vais écrire mes pensées en français. Aujourd'hui nous sommes allés au Musée des arts contemporains de Montréal. Pour être entièrement honnête je ne suis pas une grande fanatique de l'art contemporain. Ce n'est pas tout à fait vrai, j'aime beaucoup certaines pièces, mais je n'aime pas les pièces accompagnées de longues descriptions abstraites qui asseyaient de me convaincre que la moitié de la patate trempez dans la gouache rose représente les amours perdus par la sur-urbanisation des terres fertiles durant le 20e siècle. Je trouve que lorsque l'art doit être expliqué c'est parce que l'artiste n'a pas fait son travail. L'exposition "Bleu" a su trouvé des pièces qui évoquaient chez-moi un sentiment de compréhension. En les regardant, j'ai cru être capable comprendre l'état d'âme de l'artiste, sans explication et d'une façon plutôt innée je crois. Ces pièces sont rare mais Bleu a su en regrouper plusieurs. Mais je dois donner une mention spéciale à la boutique du musée. Elle est remplie de curiosité et d'idée cadeau, mais aussi plusieurs créateurs locaux un groupe qui mérite d'être encouragé. Je n'ai rien à dire sur l'exposition "Acte de présence" allez-y un mercredi soir l'accès au musée est gratuit et dites-moi ce que vous en pensez.
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