Pace on Earth: Believing Is Art

Monday, February 25, 2008

Believing Is Art

When I was growing up my grandparents had this poster in their bathroom:

I would expose myself to it everytime I used their facilities. I didn't tend to take the message away from the bathroom though, figuratively (sadly) or literally (thankfully). In an attempt to change this fact I took a trip yesterday afternoon to Fredericton's little gem, the Beaverbrook Art Gallery.

It had been a few years since I had been in and the last time was for Pete and Tracey's wedding, so I was in need of a thorough inspsection.

The main foyer is home to the gallery's centerpiece, Dali's Santiago El Grande, which is worthy of any praise it gets. Across from the Dali, though, is a massive piece entitled In My Father's House that is at once rude, offensive, weird and wonderful. It made you wonder a)why would someone paint this, b)why would someone want me too look at this and c)is this what passes for art? In other words it actually made me think, which is at least one goal achieved.

The Beaverbrook has a well regarded permanent collection, some of which dates back to the 1300's, and we made sure to make the rounds to store as much as possible in the old memory bank in case I'm not back in for a while.

Beyond that, there are currently three exhibitions at the gallery and the one that interested me the most were the industrial photographs of Yusuf Karsh. These were works commissioned by giants of industry like Ford and Atlas Steel. The photos were incredible and the history surrounding them even more interesting to a geek like me. The most interesting story was the one surrounding what is likely Karsh's most famous photo; his World War II era portrait of Winston Churchill. The story goes that just before taking the photo he snatched the cigar from Churchill's mouth and this was the scowl and the photo that resulted. That photo was in turn used to depict the steely disposition and will of the Brits in wartime. And that was what I learned at the Art Gallery. Fuckin A.

What passes for art these days is certainly questionable but I thought this clip I found fits the bill for me: