Gehry, Rivera, Kahlo, Penny, Liz & a half dozen bicycles

This past weekend was spent in Toronto celebrating the birthday of my dear friend, Liz. Along with seven others, we descended Saturday upon the Art Gallery of Ontario(AGO) for the Diego Rivera/Frida Kahlo exhibition.  Knowing little about these two early to mid-twentieth century Mexican painters, it would be a treat to explore the works of this couple, who’s relationship was as tumultuous as the revolutionary era from whence it sprang. [sorry, no pictures allowed of the Rivera/Kahlo exhibit]

Speaking personally, art has always meant exploration, asking questions; seeking understanding within the aesthetic.  While pieces may often times seem self-indulgent, they are a social media wherein we learn about–and question–ourselves as individuals and as a species.  Following a horrific auto-mobile collision that left her body shattered, Kaylo spent most of the 1930’s in varying states of convalescence.  Alone with herself and her paint-brushes, she looked at and within herself and her suffering.  Endless self-portraits, quite often busts, displaying the stoicism of one accustomed to intense physical pain.  Her subject matter rarely wandered.  When she did paint full body portraits, they usually reflected her shattered limbs or repeated miscarriages; sometimes quite graphically.  The questions she asked were not political, despite being a fervent communist.  They were deeply personal, forcing the viewer to explore their own pain and suffering, both physical and mental.

Diego Rivera was enigma.  His style and subject matter migrated back and forth; from the soft colours of impressionism to the hard lines of early post-impressionist cubism  to the monstrous dream-scapes of surrealism.  From still life paintings of bowels of fruit in front of the window to Maoist Cultural Revolution-style propaganda murals.  At times quite realistic while at others, abstract.  Rather than plotting a straight evolutionary line in the progression of his painting career, Rivera’s style would buck and toss, casting aside one form for the next like the violent social paroxisms within Mexico–and the world–between 1910 and the early 1950’s.  This trend of darting back and forth between styles was further reflected in his womanising ways, including an affair with Kahlo’s younger sister during there first marriage.

After the Rivera/Kahlo exhibit, we made our way to the fourth floor of the AGO, where we had earlier been told we would find something “interesting and creepy.”  And we did; Evan Penny’s Re Figured  exhibition of masterfully sculpted human faces.  Producing two-dimensional images of people that are sometimes then stretched and contorted, Penny recreates those images larger than life and in three dimensions using silicone, hair, fabric and resin.  The pieces really challenge the viewers’ internalized notions of the human face/body and how we interpret technologically mediated representations of those faces.  Looking at these faces, they seem so familiar, so real.  Paradoxically, they are so clearly photographic reproductions emphasized in their distortions.  Penny also presented photographs of his life-like sculptures, adding a further layer of confused proximate intimacy.  While the reason for attending the AGO on Saturday was the Rivera/Kahlo exhibit, it was Penny’s works that really intrigued me.

Following the AGO, we all retired to a local pub/restaurant for a late lunch and many hearty laughs.

Frank Gehry and the AGO

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Sunday, Kt, Ali, Adam and I were on the bikes and heading for Kensington Market by 7:30am.  There–and after more coffee–we made a few grocery purchases in preparation for that morning’s birthday brunch.  Eggs Florentine, home-made bread, fruit salad, potato salad, cinnamon buns and more coffee ’round a table of eight we ate, laughing and hailing the birthday of our dear friend, Liz.

Kt, Adam and Ali cruising through China-town.

Funny how the patio was empty at 8am in 3c.

All hail Liz!