Lines in the Snow: Contemporary Canadian Drawing
Last week, I made my way to East London to see a group exhibition featuring exclusively Canadian talent rendered in varied forms of drawing. A few streets over from the bustling stalls of Broadway Market, New Art Projects features several rooms dedicated to displaying contemporary art, with a rotating programme showcasing their represented artists in addition to guest artists.
Lines in the Snow, which opened towards the end of February, features an all-Canadian line-up of 14 artists. The breadth of techniques and subject matter plays upon a evolving Canadian identity that accepts, and indeed encourages the pushing of boundaries, and exploration of indigeneity, queerness, sexuality, ecology, race, technology, and more. Curated by gallery artist and fellow Canadian Zachari Logan, the selection of works reveals an intimate understanding of contemporary drawing as a renewed scope of the age-old tradition of mark-making. Logan’s own practice sees the most mesmerising large-scale drawings of flora that sometimes metamorphosise into human figures, or else entwine with, or softly float above and around such figures. It is one of these works that greets visitors above the stairs that descend to the exhibition.
Upon first entering the space, we’re confronted with several monochrome works that range in scale and subject matter. A profound quietness is found in these pieces, from Ted Barker’s beautifully detailed Saint Anthony The Hermit to the uncanny yet strikingly surreal landscape-turned-faces by Wanda Koop. The depth of detail in certain works draw us close to examine, such as Jane Buyers’ wonderfully intricate works of graphite on archival prints of classical science texts. Others make us step back to appreciate their scale, such as Andreanne Godin’s dimensional drawing that protrudes from the flat surface of the wall, bubbling into a sculpture.
At times, these tranquil works are disturbed by the vibrational streaks that purposefully mark surfaces, such as in Alison Norlen’s architectural deconstruction of a warship or Audie Murray’s use of residue from indigenous smudging ceremonies. Nathan Eugene Carson’s ghostly and mythical figures dig beneath the surfaces of representation to play with the harsh contrasts of materialised form.
Then, through the doorway to the second room, visitors are suddenly confronted with colourful portrayals of spaces and objects. The satisfying plays of geometry and interiority, as depicted by Tristram Lansdowne, offer colourful perspectives that are at once retrofuturistic and nostalgic. Ruth Cuthand's brightly hued glass beads on black suede sit above capitalised silver letters that spell out "GONORRHEA", a provocative word evoking responses that range from humour to repulsion. Inuit artist Jutai Toonoo presents an elegant snapshot of a part of a body, rendered in bright yellows against layered oranges and reds.
But not everything in this room is bursting with colour. Andrew Moncrief’s dynamic drawings portray bodies in movement in minimal sepia and blue tones of conté. A small, detailed drawing by Olia Mishchenko depicts clean lines of black against white, a closeup of an urban landscape overrun by horses. A telephone number on one of the building signs reveals a Toronto area code, dialling to my hometown.
The balance between disparate subject matter and various techniques makes for an artistic feast. When taken as a whole, it amalgamates into a presentation that explores contemporary drawing in all its depths, from a Canadian angle that allows for a multitude of voices. Observed individually, some pieces might resonate with certain audiences more than others, allowing for the expression of audiences to become involved. My favourite pieces were the two small framed drawings by Mia Sandhu, connected by a fake grapevine, whose delicate aesthetic and muted colours portray bodies in familiar interiors that feel at once timeless and somehow brand new.
Besides a showcase of talent for rendering images through the broad definition of drawing, what ties these works together? The accompanying essay by Canadian curator and critic Wayne Baerwaldt provides us with a few hints. It speaks about the end of ideology, a misjudged assumption that violence and conflict is something of the past. It puts into perspective our shaky present and uncertain future, advancing in deviating lines and leaving traces of affect and phenomena that tells the tale of Canada as a geopolitical entity, as a great swathe of glorious nature and culture, and above all, as home.
As Canadians, we often consider ourselves lucky for inhabiting a place and time that allows for relative freedom and prosperity. But we don’t simply bask in it. We’re not stagnant, for we know that things could be better and that the wrongs of yesterday have not been completely addressed. This exhibition does not attempt to create a new society or to address ideology as a whole. Rather, it showcases drawing as a medium to express the varied lines of tension that make up our present and spread into the future. The artistic journey is exemplified by works such as those by Stephen Andrews, who began with portraits featuring fellow individuals diagnosed with AIDS before expanding to artwork, addressing issues of memory and technology. New forms of violence emerge, for as the accompanying essay notes, “conflict is the irremediable fact of the human condition”.
Lines in the Snow: Contemporary Canadian Drawing is on until 16 April 2022 at New Art Projects in London. It was produced with the support of Creative Saskatchewan and the Canadian High Commission. For more information, visit New Art Projects’ website.