Drawing on the Rock and Other Art Related Things - Interview by Simone Labuschagne
Eight Men with Dory (Upper Island Cove), oil on canvas, 24" x 34", Steven Rhude
“He always thought of the sea as 'la mar' which is what people call her
in Spanish when they love her. Sometimes those who love her say bad
things of her but they are always said as though she were a woman. Some
of the younger fishermen, those who used buoys as floats for their lines
and had motorboats, bought when the shark livers had brought much
money, spoke of her as 'el mar' which is masculine.They spoke of her as a
contestant or a place or even an enemy. But the old man always thought
of her as feminine and as something that gave or withheld great favours,
and if she did wild or wicked things it was because she could not help
them. The moon affects her as it does a woman, he thought.”
―
The Old Man and the Sea
Simone La: So Rhude time for another Q&A session.The nature of two artists living and working together is not unique but also not that common, and we tend to discuss art related issues a lot around the house. I want to discuss your thing for Newfoundland, the use of the figure in your paintings, your routine, and even a bit about portraiture.
When did you fall in love with the Province of Newfoundland? What makes her different from your home province of Nova Scotia?
Steven : About fifteen years ago I joined Emma Butler Gallery. I'd never been to Newfoundland and during a telephone conversation with Emma Butler she stressed the point that I visit and derive my subject matter there in much the same way as I do in Nova Scotia. She saw my paintings that were done while I lived in Fox Island and Lunenburg, and believed Newfoundland would be a good fit. I really missed the connections I had with the coastal communities in Canso and the surrounding area. It was an incredibly fertile period for me and my picture making. I think I sensed Newfoundland would offer up something as well. Emma was right, everything about the place is larger than life so to speak. It suited my routine and observations regarding the beauty and logic of coastal communities, the symbolic aspects of boats, roads, wharves and so on.
The difference from Nova Scotia is experiential. So everyone talks about the language of landscape in Newfoundland, even those who don't live and work there. There is this linear logic that curators and art critics consider about place... that is about the way artists explore place as though there was some kind of template. I'm not that kind of artist. What I love about Newfoundland is the place explores you, nudges you into what I consider to be a "visual event". These moments, when they happen, can raise the hair on your neck and eventually work itself out into a painting. Now I tend to do the same thing in Nova Scotia, but we have to devote more of our time to Wolfville and the Valley. It's a stark contrast to the Avalon peninsula. Back here Acadia University is situated in the middle of Wolfville. Our world here is more orderly and routine. kids and work. When I'm in Newfoundland I just drift, in Nova Scotia I'm in the studio pursuing practical matters.
Simone La: Even today, there is some suggestion within the institutional establishment that painting as an art form is out of time. Why do you feel that painting is relevant and important in the modern world and particularly in the modern art world?
Steven: Out of time is an interesting term in the way it's used. One way is the idea that painting has now run "out of time", and yet in the larger scheme of things the term can also be used in the sense of painting not being vulnerable to the more time related and transient aspects of contemporary modes of expression like video, performance, and installation art. So it's a term that can't serve two masters. Were it irrelevant today it wouldn't be a subject of attention and constant revision by the establishment. Many paintings which were once seen as metaphorical to the human condition like Winslow Homer's "The Gulf Stream" are now being scrutinized more so through the lens of race and colonization rather than the subject of the sea as an eternal merciless presence. But my instinct tells me no painting was painted with just one brush.
However, painting on a stark white piece of textile is essentially our spiritual and psychological frame of reference. I doubt story telling has run out of time. These qualities do not have a clock attached to them in the linear sense. Ever since I was a kid I loved the concept that something could be frozen in time. You know everyone has a dream at some time or another about this. Then you realize that someone painted on a cave wall in a prehistoric time and you have corroboration of your dream. I know you once asked Colville what kind of painting he liked and he replied Egyptian art because of its linear qualities but also because the artist was by and large anonymous. In the modern world art hides behind reputation. Its psychological frame of reference is by and large influenced by institutional identity politics. This is where a lot of reputations are currently being made and yet also are reflective of Bruegel's tower of babble - a discourse largely between curators, the institutional establishment, media, and acadamia with very little in terms of reckoning.
A painting and its meaning is relevant because it is a very fragile object that needs constant attention and nurturing to crack the code. Painting has long been a metaphor for the story of man, it's that simple. Kind of like that hand painted on the cave wall - "this am I, I was here." As long as we want to see what, if anything, is inside ourselves we will continue to make paintings.
Simone La: When choosing subject matter does this out of time theme of ancient landscape or timeless characters assist you in the planning of a work of art?
Steven: Ya, probably the above painting could meet that consideration. I work in a familiar tradition and it has not been displaced (phew !). Artists are always asked how they see themselves. Some say I'm a painter, I'm a sculptor and so on. I see myself as a picture maker. What I do coexists with other art forms. But nuance is still necessary. People may think the dory is an object of the past, yet why does one see them all over Newfoundland? When we owned one in Fox Island it was common knowledge that it came from a National Sea Products vessel. They are still used as life boats today and have all sorts of utilitarian purposes for inshore fishermen. I recall how we had to cork the seams and soak the boat up for a few days - it was amazing how heavy the boat was and yet in the water how well engineered it was to row. Talk about a work of art. In the painting it could just be an anonymous group of men hauling a dory into storage - that was their assistance to me. But we don't know where they've been or what they've been up to. Who these men are I don't really know. But back in the studio I modeled for every one of them and developed an individual variation one by one. So sure I see them as out of time.
Simone La: Folks that know the Province of Newfoundland and Labrador will know that the weather is fickle and can be cruel or beautiful. The harsh climate is always a topic of conversation. Is this why you painted a weather balloon?
Steven : Ya, like I said earlier Newfoundland tends to nudge you, it explores you. Maybe it's something like a cat that just appears out of nowhere and befriends you, I'm really not sure, but one has to consider and listen to it. But while growing up weather to me was long Scarborough summers with sun and heat and great snow filled winters. As kids we only took note if there was a brute of a storm. Living in the Maritimes has been different because of the oceanic logic that affects the resource industries and of course the coastal communities - weather simply put can be life or death. In Fox Island I used to love to go out onto the sun porch in the morning, stare at the ocean and make deductions regarding wind direction, velocity, humidity, temperature and so on. It was a game I played. Then I'd turn on the CBC to get a more accurate report. Now Newfoundland's weather can be notorious for raging storms, wind, and hurricanes. So it always lurked in the back of my mind to make a painting that related directly to our relationship and dependence on weather and data collection. Weather balloons are intriguing objects. Some call them sounding balloons. Attached to the balloon is a parachute and a radiomonde that collects the data. It gives us the dope on atmospheric pressure, temperature, humidity and of course wind speed. Radar and GPS systems can track them but the radiomonde is expendable.
What's intriguing is the balloon is filled with helium and expands as it drifts upward through the atmosphere for an average of ninety minutes, eventually bursting around eighty to a hundred thousand feet. Some of the radiomondes are found and recycled. Most are lost to the Atlantic ocean. In this picture the woman looks outward to the ocean, she's on an island and seems to know or convey something about 'la mar' and our vulnerability to and reliance on the sea. On a side note when I studied in Florence I used to wear a lot of red plaid shirts. A redneck Ontarian trait at the time. Now they're all the rage, so as my model I had to have you wear one. Modernism a la plaid.
Simone La: This is another rather unusual painting. The composition is stunning in landscape and subject matter. It is a modern image but has the feeling of a time honored tradition. Where did the inspiration come from?
Steven: Sometimes I see something and know right away to open a file on an experience or memory, then paint it. Other times it comes through the back door and needs to be pieced together and formulated. This painting is the result of the latter and it evolved slowly. I still day dream of our long coastal hikes after storms that usually came from the north east - beach combing and scavenging floatsam. Many of the items eventually becoming useful in the workshop or studio. I talked with lobster fishermen who sometimes would lose one hundred traps if the storm was wicked enough. A lot of labor and materials washed away. Wooden buoys, traps, fish boxes can be recycled, and horses are still used a lot around rural Newfoundland for various tasks, both in summer and winter. I love Salmon Cove and believed this would be the perfect context for the image.
But what was/is really on my mind here is once again an unforgiving sea and the calm after it has done its damage. We acknowledge the sea as a presence; maybe I should say an indifferent presence to Newfoundlanders, but really you me and all of humanity if we look at it on a larger scale. That thought changes the tone of the painting from a scavenging task to something more baleful. It can be approached both ways. So the horse and rider become a kind of portrait of my thoughts on this issue.
Simone La: You have done many portraits in your paintings career. Some of well known people and some of children or youth - and some almost imaginary portraits of local characters. What is the most interesting or challenging of your portraits and why?
Steven: Recently I got the nod to paint Acadia University's fifteenth president, Ray Ivany. It was a great experience and a true collaboration with Ray. We had fruitful discussions before a concept was even formed and I believe they helped me immensely in the long run. It was probably the most planned portrait I've ever done - lots of prep drawings and a few oil studies. It will be unveiled in September at Acadia University.
On the other hand painting a portrait like the above Roxanne based on a local myth provides me with latitude quite different from the more formal experience. I'm free to pick and choose my model and stage her accordingly.
However the most ... well challenging and truly odd portrait outcome was the paintings I did of Margaret Atwood. I was approached to collaborate with a designer and to submit some paintings for a Canada Post stamp proposal of the esteemed author. It was acknowledged ahead of time that I would sign a contract and be paid for the paintings which would become the property of Canada Post. I read a lot of her poetry and came up with some works to provide the designer with. The final design I thought was pretty cool but unfortunately another design was superior to ours and so it goes. I was paid and shipped the paintings off to the archives of Canada Post which will never see the light of day. Nor will they be exhibited or even an electronic image be allowed to circulate. This was the agreement. So there Margaret will stay ad infinitum, portraits that exists, but more or less exists in concept only.
Simone La: Thanks so much Rhude, now it's your turn to weed the garden!
Simone Labuschagne is a mother, painter, interviewer, and partner in crime with Steven Rhude
Comments
Post a Comment