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Science gone too far >> Ten young printmakers put art under the microscope by KEITH MARCHAND
Jaquie Kolodiejchuk's untitled ode to abdominal workings forms part of a show called Manuals for Non-Existent Sciences. This is the end-of-year showcase for students of the Concordia Fine Arts program's 400-level printmaking course. And regardless of the artists' student status, the works are generally well considered, well made and as cheeky as a chorus line. The loose aim of the show is to offer scholarly studies into fictitious (and often ridiculous) scientific pursuits. The works comment on the Byzantine landscape of academia and the artificial constructs that buttress the legitimacy of science and research: i.e. if a subject is sufficiently scrutinized and labelled, it becomes legitimized. Take, for example, Tim Van Wijk's treatise on the most popular of pastries. In "Advanced Cookie Aerodynamics" the visitor is presented a text with a biscuit-shaped cover that expounds upon the most important facet of the cookie-related sciences: aerodynamics. Inside, we're shown the extensive research and equations that led to Van Wijk's findings. The mission statement reads: "The cookologist's work lies beyond the boundaries of the useful and the useless. It is the revolutionary stratosphere into which the whole of creation is being launched." Pierre Pellerin's "Le Cycle biologique de la courgette de mer" is a thorough study of the sea zucchini. The elaborate piece contains a podium, an overhead projector, a stack of transparencies, a rigorous text and the projection of maps and aquatic life onto a screen--all the information you (n)ever wanted to know about this bizarre aquatic microcosm. Clark Ferguson's "Self Portrait of Masculinity" is a peculiar exhibit that looks into the male condition of being the sex with the Y chromosome and the entre-jambe. The three installations feature images of manly men, accompanied by handmade conveyor belts that flip rectangular cards toward the viewer. Each card contains statements, observations or slogans about things manly. One features a running narrative about William Holden: "If we'd hang out, me and Holden would sit in my kitchen and drink tequila and Wild Turkey bourbon." Most of these witty meditations explore often brushed-aside expectations for men: "He's 136 lbs and I'm 153 lbs, we'd both like to be a little bigger." Ferguson has found a way to bring flashcards back into the curriculum. Manuals for Non-Existent Sciences reflects the concerns of young artists: themes of religion, pop culture, an irretrievably innocent past and the importance of the human hand in art-making. The show displays jaded nihilism coupled with a savvy sense of humor and a quixotic sense of purpose. Manuals for Non-Existent Sciences runs until April 15 in suite 308 of the Belgo Building, 372 Ste-Catherine W.
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There's nothing quite like the siren-call of viscera beckoning you into an art exhibition. And indeed, that's exactly what caught my eye as I entered a small gallery of the Belgo Building last Saturday. Waxy, fatty entrails hang in the middle of the room, stitched with coarse red thread and embellished with ciphers of greasy black ink. Existing somewhere between mobile and anatomical study, the sculpture sets the mood for a group show of 10 young artists.