SUSAN ANDREWS GRACE'S "DOMESTIC FETISHES" — A HOPE CHEST OF DELIGHT

Susan Andrews Grace has an eye for the mundane, the ridiculous, and the sublime, all of which are on display in her exhibition at the Kootenay Gallery of Art in Castlegar. Although the show has been up for a couple of weeks now, the official "opening" was on Friday, September 25th. 

Domestic Fetishes comprises over two hundred objects that are in some way relevant to domesticity as it relates to women. The title is perfect, a fetish being an inanimate object with some kind of cryptic power. As Susan puts it in her artist statement, they are "objects relative to the world of an artist and woman who has done a heck of a a lot of domestic work."

Upon entering the gallery space, you notice how very white everything is. White, at first suggesting bland, suggesting washed-out, suggesting virginal, and possibly even suggesting the confusion that arises when one finds oneself in the middle of a white-out on a dark road on a nasty winter's day. 

The whiteness is a result of the artist working with cast plaster, limestone, clay, and various forms of silk, covering and enhancing scores of household objects you'd be likely to find on shelves and in drawers and cupboards in any home.

Grocery receipts spill from a pouch — (part of the installation "Tattered, Torn & Worn.") 

Starched collars — (part of the installation "Tattered, Torn & Worn.")

"Tattered, Torn & Worn" (Mouse in the House)

"Pantry Ghosts" — A table set for no one is focal in the middle of the room. I didn't get a picture of the shelves covered with bottles and jars and cans and household tools, appearing ghostly and nameless in their white plaster or paint or PVA coverings. As the artist puts it, "Domestic work is the ghost in our economic machine." 

Cycladic Nipples serves to remind us of maternal aspects of domestic life

There are several nods to quilt-making ("Red and White Quilt 1)

Grandma's Quilt 1

Grandma's Quilt 2

Grandma's Quilt 3

"First Maid/Bride-in-Waiting", comprised of silk fibre and a couple of condoms on limestone clay and birch, is a perfect example of the artist's wonderfully contemplative sense of humour,

as is "Second Maid/Bride-in-Waiting" with it's silk fibre pistol brings up thoughts of shot-gun weddings, to this viewer, anyway!

The wedding theme continues with a nod to groomsmen.  In a previous life in Saskatoon the artist had a sweat shop in her basement where she pieced together flies for groomsmen's trousers. Who knew a fly could be so complicated? (According to the artist, this led her to the somewhat disconcerting habit of eyeing mens' crotches in an attempt to learn more about fly construction!)

"Domestic Garter Catcher" features your standard North American wedding satin garter caught by a bottle of the sort you'd likely find in a kitchen cupboard. Strands of kiboso spill out the top. Kiboso comes from the outer surface of the silk cocoon.  

And then there's a fetish to honour the woman of the hour — her special day, her special dress. This one reminds me so much of the one my mother wore that I used to play dress-up in. They are of an era; my mother's dress was worn in 1945; this one is from 1950. 

Close-up of dress

Close-up of veil

"The Daughter was Shorter than the Mother" — so titled because the wedding dress had to be shortened when her daughter wore it so the bottom was cut off.

And what should be pointed directly at the wedding dress? A rather ominous, yet funny grouping of cigars and pistols rising from a testicular base!

Detail of "Phalanxes of Phalli"

As I wandered about taking in the incredible number of objects that are part of Domestic Fetishes I found myself thinking about something I hadn't thought of in years: my hope chest. 

Did you have a hope chest? They were a fairly normal thing to have when I was growing up. Basically, it was some sort of container—a box, finely crafted or crude—for accumulating things a young woman would surely need should she find herself married. Things like linens and cookware. Things like cutlery and dishes. My hope chest took the form of an old steamer trunk. My older female relations delighted in providing things for it; my grandmother got into the act before I even had such a box, putting aside embroidered pillowcases and tea towels. I still have her pillowcases that say, Mr. and Mrs. and her tea towels that announce Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner, and Teatime. There was a teapot that played Tea For Two when you upended it to pour, and a set of "luncheon dishes", most of which got broken on one of my cross-country trips. So many expectations were packed into that trunk it's a wonder I could close it. 

I still use the tea towels from time to time, but I could never quite bring myself to haul out those pillowcases. After seeing Susan Andrews Grace's take on the domesticity scene I begin to understand why. 

The show is up until the 31st of October. Catch it if you can.

 

 

POETRY MONTH DAY # 15 — MY READING FOR POETRY MONTH

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Tonight the poetry reading planned for the Kootenay Gallery tonight went online and you can see mine here.

A whole lot of learning went into putting this together. I can now trim a video and I have a much better understanding of what works and what doesn't. This is my contribution to Poetry Month for today. I got no more words.

A big thank you to the Federation of BC Writers who instigated this reading and uploaded the videos to YouTube,  to the League of Canadian Poets who provided funding, and to the Kootenay Gallery of Art who was going to host it but obviously couldn't thanks to the COVID-19 pandemic.

Thanks for reading, and watching. I welcome your comments.

My high-tech iPhone tripod attachment!

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THERE BE MONSTERS HERE. AND WOOD TURNINGS. AND DOUKHOBOR VILLAGES. AND POETRY BOOKS.

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Kyran, my grandson, is staying with us for a week or so. Today we went over to the Kootenay Gallery in Castlegar to see the current exhibition by Scot Bullick with the curious name Miscreants: Mischievous and Defiant.

I'd seen it the other week when I dropped off some books, and I loved it and knew Kyran would, too. And he did. As he went from exhibit to exhibit I could hear him chuckling. He's nine, and knows a thing or two about monsters. Every so often I'd hear, "Cool!" 

I obediently refrained from taking pictures of Scot Bullick's work (tempting though it was), but happily his daughter Amanda just happens to be a professional photographer and has some great shots of how the set-up went here. While you're there, check out her website. She does gorgeous work.

My favourite installation was the hanging steel (I think) 3-D faces that are also seen reflected on the wall. Brilliant! Seriously, go have a look at Amanda's photos of the set-up. You'll see what I mean.

The last time I was visited the gallery I discovered this beautiful display of Ted's work in the smaller gallery space. (How could I not take a picture?)

That's a George Koochin painting, "Autumn Gold" behind it. Some of George's paintings are currently on display at Chances Gaming Centre beside the Castlegar Airport. Full disclosure: I'm not a fan of gaming centres, but the possibility of seeing some of George's work overcame my aversion to going. There are few places, come to think of it, I wouldn't go to see his work. As it happens, that's a little print of George's on the plinth beside Ted's turnings. Ted got it for me and it's hanging right beside me as I type this. 

One of the poems in my new chapbook is a version of a pantoum called Burning the Old Village. In 2003, on Winter Solstice night, we did just that to the remains of the Doukhobor village that was in our back yard. Once upon a time it would have looked like George's print.

BURNING THE OLD VILLAGE

The year we burned the Dom it hardly snowed.

The roof had fallen in. Could not be saved.

Deer stole the seeds the grosbeaks left behind.

Sunflowers-in-waiting a carpet on the ground.

The roof had fallen in. Could not be saved.

One exquisite match strike; it was done.

Sunflowers-in-waiting a carpet on the ground.

Roused from their winter bed, the skunks emerged.

One exquisite match strike; it was done.

A swift retreat of black and white indignity.

Roused from their winter bed, the skunks emerged.

The night was molten cold. So little snow.

A swift retreat of black and white indignity.

Snowdrifts a memory. We burned memories, too.

The night was molten cold. So little snow.

Wish for swallows to find new homes come spring.

Snowdrifts a memory. We burned memories, too.

Deer stole the seeds the grosbeaks left behind.

Wish for swallows to find new homes come spring.

The year we burned the Dom it hardly snowed.

A few copies of my chapbooks are for sale at the Kootenay Gallery: George Bowering's Los Pájaros de Tenacatita—Poems of La Manzanilla del Mar and my own What's Best For Us.

Here's Val Field, the Gallery's hard-working executive director, packing up a gift I got for a friend. In addition to bringing in thought-provoking shows like Scot Bullick's, the Kootenay Gallery has the most wonderful gift shop. Check it out next time you're in the area. It's right across from the airport in Castlegar.

And yes, if you were wondering, I've been writing postcard poems AND waking up in the middle of the night to scrawl 3:15 Experiment ones. 
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