Bending Towards the Sun @ YYZ

YYZ 40th Anniversary Exhibition, Bending Towards the Sun features the work of Frances Adair, Grayson Alabiso-Cahill, JD Banke, Liam Crockard, Patrick Cruz, Stan Douglas, Alex Fischer, Hanna Hur, Aaron Jones, Laurie Kang, Garrett Lockhart, Trevor Mahovsky & Rhonda Weppler, Jenine Marsh, Darby Milbrath, Susy Oliveira, Walter Scott, Shannon Garden Smith, Jana Sterbak, and Sean Stewart

Curated by Veronika Ivanova, Bending Towards the Sun is a fundraising exhibition in support of YYZ. On view from Saturday 30 March — Saturday 4 May, 2019. “Bending Towards the Sun” celebrates YYZ Artists’ Outlet—their growth and transformation over the past 40 years, and their resilience and ability to thrive in a climate increasingly hostile to cultural work.

Right to Left:
(1) Alex Fischer “Super Seed BW&Blue” 2016 Giclée on HP Matte Litho-realistic paper 14 x 11” (framed) Edition 3 of 5. (2) Garrett Lockhart, “Buzzin’” 2018 laser print on cotton, assorted wild ower seeds, reclaimed rotten pine 5 1/2 x 7 1/2” (framed). (3) Liam Crockard, “Broom” 2014-2015 Plywood, formica, bristles 58 x 16 x 2 1/2”. (4) Grayson Alabiso-Cahill, “Dundas and Dovercourt, August 2018” 2019 c-print 11 x 14” (framed). (5) Aaron Jones, “Police Sport Du Rag” 2018 Paper Collage 29 x 39” (framed). (6) Liam Crockard, “Lesser Odds” 2018 Losing Scratch Lottery Tickets, Yamato Paste, Tape, Cardboard 13 x 8”. (7) Sean Stewart, “Flora and Creosote” 2018 steel 80 3/4 x 26 x 16”.

With the mild wind, with the first rain showers
the alder bark swells, and pale green
colors the bushes.
And by the brooks, by the sudden sprung black ditches running with foaming cold snow water, 

in the pits, in wet underbrush,
in pools of water –
the pussy willows begin to bleach and yellow.
In the air a cool dampness, the smell of frost and wind,
but soon the water in the ditches will drain, the pastures will dry, and by the rivers, in the ditches, in wet bogs
will spring up clusters of yellow marsh marigolds.
The whole yard smells: of new buds,
boards stacked in the sun,
light frost – and gutted potato pits,
the smell of fresh new grass.
And the faintest breeze brings from the bushes
the smell of alder and juniper,
and smell of fresh buds, catkins and leaves;
and from the fields – the smell of fresh water,
of drying meadows, foamy crusts,
the first coltsfoot, swallowwort, dandelion,
the smell of flooded ponds, the sun’s warmth, and the last
of the dirty snow lying in the loamy ditches.
And when from the bushes yellow with golden catkins
drifts the first whistling on alder bark fifes,
– gentle tapping with a knife-handle –
ah, now really the winter won’t come back – now it is spring!

JONAS MEKAS, HOW SWEET THE SMELL OF SPRING
Courtesy of the estate of Jonas Mekas (1922–2019)

Right: Hanna Hur “Fever ii” 2017 watercolor, china marker and color pencil on linen 30 x 40”

“Again today I watched you leave and tried to follow. Found nothing but darkness in your wake. Granulated by your absence like a lover newly acquainted, now I only hope you’ll stop by again tomorrow. Fruitless is to chase you, somehow you always wind up at my back, Dawn’s fingers waltzing over my shoulders onto my breast. Neck of a crane, these swollen eyes are pried open. Why do you demand my pivot? that I remain dancing circles for you? Why mock the path straight and narrow, it’s been many times I’ve practiced this dance so, why, over? again I dream that I follow you, beyond the edge into the unknown. On a pathway where the light never escapes me, not over the horizon’s selfish ambit, out of view. We could see this as progress, no? I do like to keep moving, I do have trouble staying any one way for too long. I’ve always fought reliance on habituation, cycles are suspects in the transgression of living just once. Oh yes I’m being dramatic as always but it’s a recipe of your making. Could we not just learn to talk like adults about this? Then you’d say to me, “in the endless pursuit of this imagined, faultless life, you may waste so much time running, breathlessly, trying to catch me, that you’ll never sit long enough to know the pleasure of a butterfly picking you as its place to land.” It is a lesson of circuits: energy produced in a self-reliant loop that seldom tires of itself. I remember now that restlessness is exactly what destines Orpheus to a heart full of darkness both by night and day. That is, it is not you who spites me, but myself. You watch from behind, the choreography of how I dance thru darkness to find light. With a face to the moon, I bend towards you, sun.”

KATE KOLBERG, A SUN CARD REVERSED IS STILL A SUN CARD
Jana Sterbak, “Distraction” 1992 C print 19 3/10 x 14 1/5” (framed) Edition 13 of 15
Laurie Kang, “Carrier (Worm)” 2018 stainless steel mixing bowl, pigmented silicone, cast aluminum, powermesh 19 x 19 x 5.5”
Background: Darby Milbrath, “Milkmaid” 2016 oil and natural pigments on linen 16 x 18 x 1”, “Still life with Trilliums and Maple Leaves” 2018 oil on canvas 14 x 16 x 1”.
Foreground: Trevor Mahovsky & Rhonda Weppler, “The Known Universe” 2017 pigmented polymerized gypsum, epoxy, steel, cheesecloth 198 x 133.5 x 53.5 cm
Walter Scott, “Tanya Dognelly” 2017 colored pencil, grease pencil 14 x 17” (framed)