Wiwaxia, a scaly spiny invertebrate were common inhabitants of the Cambrian & early Ordovician seas. No one is quite sure if they were scaly worms or mollusks, but I was quite sure if you scaled up (no pun intended!) their 5 cm long bodies they would make quite a fabulous hat. One of the fun things about contemplating ancient fossil is that colour is rarely preserved so no one can disprove my (admittedly quite unlikely) idea that the scales has multifarious patterns. So this piece is really wearable multimedia textile art. It works sculpture or hat.
When I make art to tell stories about science I am often literal and direct to communicate clearly. If I make art for or about me, it’s much more metaphorical. Though depicting an extinct animal might easily be #SciArt, this is more about my feelings of experiencing lockdown. I can’t quite explain why I felt like “f— it, I’m making a wiwaxia hat” is how I felt, but it was. This was work I could actually do while wrangling my child for remote school, when very few other things were possible.
Each scale and spine is block printed and hand sewn.
Carving, while working at the same table as a busy 7 year old was tricky. I felt like I said, "Don't shake the table" incessantly. Printing while supervising school would not work at all. But, I could cut and sew by hand, hand-printed scales and spines I prepared the previous evening (after my son's bedtime).
Compare this work with my print on the same subject:
Wiwaxia linocut by Ele Willoughby, 11" x 14" on translucent washi with bark inclusions and collaged assorted washi scales and spines.
Thanks to my husband Roger Hallett for the photos!
This year we decided to try and keep to a very select assortment and not make it a really late night. RJH spent yesterday completing the roof on the garage (yay!) and had to work today to cover a shift for a friend. I selected my top three choices and that's how we began our night.
We began at 'Constellations' at University College. I was interested in the 'Jansen Walker', because it was described as "elegant, multi-legged mechanical beings" - kinetic, interactive sculptures, inspired by the work of Theo Jansen. I envisioned something like the marvellous and quixotic Standbeest perambulating around the quad. So, I was a bit underwhelmed by an automaton made with PVC tubes and a hand crank which made interesting noises. Sure, I got to interact with the artwork, but I was expecting something with some life of its own. I was pleasantly surprised to find the lawn scattered with sleeping (and quietly snoring) sod people, the earthen golems of XXXX Collective.
I was even more pleasantly surprised by Robert Wilson's Gould Variations, a series of videos portraits in celebration of Glenn Gould. I saw the sign and thought, haven't we seen this before? How many films can we make in honour of Glenn Gould (who, incidentally, seems to be the secret theme of my weekend, what with CBC radio's show this morning)? I was tempted to skip it. Little did I suspect I would see Robert Wilson’s South American Horned Frog Video Portrait series. What says Glenn Gould like South American Horned frogs? In fact, it was engrossing. The work was designed for the site and it showed. It involved a large collection of variations on a theme, of course - technicolour videos of South American horned frogs, in various unnatural colours and at various angles with a soundtrack combining river field recordings and frog vocalizations mixed with Canadian pianist Glenn Gould performing his own arrangement of Bach’s Goldberg Variations (the recordings for which he is most famed). This unexpected combination and well-conceived hanging created an otherworldly, immersive environment. The subtle movement of the frogs and their vocalizations really triggered the viewer to watch and listen carefully. The long hall-like shape of the gallery, with smaller rooms branching off, each lined with huge flat-screens of fluorescent frogs, made the entire experience dreamlike.
We continued to the Crave Crawl Cave, created by Claro Cosco, Grey Muldoon, and Piffin Duvekot, a series of geodesic-dome style knit and other textile tents, each with its own sensory environment. I love the idea of inviting the viewer to crawl through sculptures. They were a bit on the small side, however, which meant that few people could enter at once, and most of the people who chose to do so were children (at least when we were there), who were the only ones with the sense to understand that they could play with the art.
I crawled into the largest of the three, which was an eerie, blacklit, fluorescent cave with doily cobwebs.
We left UC and headed downtown to the CBC building (past the Glenn Gould studio and well-known sculptural portrait of him on his bench), to see Andrew Kearney's SKYLUM, an interactive, light and sound inflatable blimp inside the atrium. SKYLUM responds to the audience, changing its soundtrack and light show depending on the proximity and movement of the audience. It was sort of magical, looming in the atrium, but the interaction with the audience was less than obvious; I wish it had been more pronounced. Though some people danced vigorously, trying to get it to change its tempo.
We drove by The Other Side, a four-way video feed, with screens on each corner of York and Adelaide, showing the opposite corner. It seemed to me like a dud, not the least because two of the screens were inoperable. We then attempted to see Light Seeds, at overhead walkway at Church and Gould, the installation by Science on Art a collective of Ryerson’s physics and engineering students. We despaired of driving or parking nearby and RJH suggested that I get out of the car and walk, while he tried to park. On my way, I passed Thought Balloon, which allowed viewers to project their "thoughts" (tweets) onto the surface of large glowing balloons. I overheard one woman ask the man she was with whether his tweet had been projected, and he told her she would never know. This was the point of the art - to play with the idea of public versus private.
I made it to "Light Seeds" and waited briefly in line for my turn at the controls. The students had suspended lights in the windows of the overpass. The lights responded to their environment: some were like the level lights on a stereo, responding to the music, the others were like a giant Etch-A-Sketch. There were two sets of controls at the front with three dials apiece. The dials controlled the vertical position of the light, the horizontal position and the colour. So, the two viewers at the front of the line were able to "draw" with light pixels (confused by the second controller, of course). At the front they also had two smaller displays: a Geiger-counter controlled three-colour LED strip, responding to beta and gamma radiation (which, in case you were unaware, is everywhere on the planet, to some degree, because of the ubiquitous nature of radioisotopes in the environment), and a little LED-encrusted sculpture which was controlled by a hand-written pencil sign which read "Touch Me". Graphite, of course, is electrically conductive, so it can act as a capacitative sensor (so that by touching the text, one is changing the capacitance being sensed by a simple circuit, which in turn changes the lights).
We continued through the Ryerson campus and happened upon something which I think was unofficial. It was certainly low-tech, but rather entertaining. In the drained fountain, next to some official exhibits like 'Aura', there were several people bicycling around with their bikes in fish and shark costumes.
At this point, I had seen my top three selections, but we continued on foot towards the Eaton Centre, passing "Dean" the neon man. I'm not sure if he was a mobile exhibit, or an unofficial one, but he was lit with actual neon lights, as well as EL wire (electroluminescent wire, or 'cold neon') and lightbulbs.
We passed REFLEXION, a large crystal of interactive video in Yonge-Dundas Square, but it seemed underwhelming, while the crowds were overwhelming. We passed many buskers between Dundas and Queen, along Yonge. Eventually I managed to get into the Eaton Centre, to see Max Streicher's Vertical Constructions: Dancer #1 and Dancer #2, while RJH shot more photos outside in the crowds. These were large amorphous inflatable sculptures made from recycled vinyl billboards, suspended from the ceiling. They were well suited to the space, both is size and in media (what with the hints of advertising).
RJH wanted to see what was going on at City Hall. We saw a video projected on the back of the curved towers of Nathan Phillips and in the middle of the square, we found World Without Sun by Christine Davis. Clearly I'm not the only one who thinks these are two great things which go great together. I don't know how a video installation combining space and jellyfish had escaped my attention, so I'm glad RJH suggested we check it out. I think it might have been the somewhat pompous description; with hundreds of events to choose from, I rule out anything which has a description which bores me. I think that curators and artists should take heed. I am an engaged participant who actively thinks about and creates art; if your descriptions are scaring me you are not going to capture the less engaged public. The installation itself was engaging! Six videos projected on large raised disks showing footage of things like jellyfish, interstellar nebulae and neurons, inviting the audience to connect the imagery. Two viewers where lying on the ground watching upside-down, mesmerized.
We continued south to attempt to see All Night Convenience. We passed the whimsical The Way Things Are, with its floppy street lamps, like melted Dalí watches. The luminous, transparent convenient store, filled with free lanterns made of typical consumables, was of course, too popular to enter (with a line up across the entire square), but I appreciate its existence.
We continued to St. James Park for one final stop. I wanted to see Lenticularis, another kinetic sculpture. It looked little like the artist's rendering. It was described thus: "The work billows and sways as a luminous assembly of lanterns, fans, and undulating surfaces. It is an interactive matrix composed of numerous translucent structures linked together to form a lightweight canopy. Individual parts of the canopy are constructed to rise and fall with changing air currents, affecting the sculpture's overall shape." A bunch of white sheer curtains, a fan, some lights, and a web of plastic, would be more like it. Though, it was pretty, if small, and less than advertised. Perhaps it had to be scaled down due to a last-minute change in location.
Overall we did quite well. I saw more than expected, and never had to wait in line more than about 5 minutes. Some of the best exhibits were those we happened upon. Crowds were thick, particularly on Yonge, which is always a magnet for out-of-towners, but the mood was good, and we encountered fewer inebriated or uncivil people than last year. I particularly appreciate seeing not only the listed independent projects, but evidence that people are making this their own - in small ways, like dressing with glow sticks or lit fibre optics in one's hair, or the large number of people parading with the All Night Convenience lanterns, to the larger, full-blown costumes like Wonder Woman, DeadMau5, and the Dean the neon man. Nothing encourages me more than seeing thousands of people spending their night seeking art and inspiration. That's why you can't keep me from Nuit Blanche.
So we did make it to Nuit Blanche, but though I read everything I could, we didn't have a thorough plan or make it out the door very efficiently. We did however manage to see a lot of interesting things, sometimes through sheer serendipity. We started out on the U of T campus trying to find a place to park, when we passed the International Student Centre - which wasn't on my list - but we were drawn in by the pink cords and suspended labels wrapped in a web around all their trees. Maleta Stories was one event with, to my mind, superceded its description. The installation was about immigration, particularly people who came to Canada with one suitcase from the Philipines. By inviting participation from attendees, who could fill in tags and attach them to the wires through the trees, it really became much more universal and fascinating. We wandered under the wires reading people's stories. I imagine the installation would have grown more layered and interesting through the night.
Next we headed to Hart House, passing various installations involving lights and music, and apparently video games, along the way. I wanted to see AirSHIP. The Music Room, with its pseudo-medieval vaulted wooden ceiling was a wonderful venue for these luminous blimps. They proved very difficult to photograph, but imagine the ceiling filled with transparent blimps with globes of interior light, trailing strings to a mirrored floor, with ambient music. I heard someone compare them to giant jellyfish. It had a sort of magic. Also impressive was that this art installation was made by engineering and architecture students who are part of a solar blimp team.
Next we headed over to Victoria College (technically University, but whatever, I say, as an alumni). Slow Moving Falls was projected on a two and half storey screen in front of the building. It shows a film of Niagara Falls, projected upsidedown and in extreme slow motion. It was mesmerizing. It was funny to see people try tp bend over and look at the screen with their heads upsidedown. Around the corner was Radiophonic Territory which involved an exterior "confessional" where confessions were broadcast within the building and on the radio. Since this installation wasn't on my priority list, we didn't stand in line to hear the confessions, but we watched people consider entering the box.
I was anxious to see and participate in L'écho-L'eau, a simulated log-run within the MaRS building. Despite the long line on the exterior of the building, the wait wasn't too long - in fact we spent far less time in lines this year. We even had to sign a waiver, but that didn't slow us down. There was an immense but shallow pool set up in the large lobby. We had to remove out shoes and walk through the water. At the far end was the 'log-run'. We were given large umbrellas and got to walk on the logs under similated rain. I enjoyed the experience. After the log run we were encouraged to look at the 'reflecting pool' with illusion on the floor below. (On our way we passed Taddle Creek sound installation at University and College - which, while not substantial, was evocative of the sound of a river).
I wanted to see The Heart Machine, a flame-throwing installation from Burning Man. We went down University Ave. and were confused by one of the nomadic installation, which I heard called the 'Renegade Parade', though I haven't found it on the website. The travelling installation was a rave on wheels; a pickup truck with DJ, dancers and light show which was advancing through the streets. When we reached the Heart Machine, so did the rave. RJH wanted to photograph the rave, but I wove through the cars to the flames, and found myself behind the Heart Machine. Though cordoned off, we had a better view than the crowd at the front. Soon, using his trusty business card (not even a press pass) RJH talked himself up onto the scaffholding to photograph the scene from above. The woman at the cordon allowed me in and said I could stay out of the way by the truck. Much to my amusement, while RJH photographed the scene, Nuit Blanche volunteers assumed I was on staff and started reporting to me. I was told that the Renegade Parade performers were going to come through. I asked if I was in the way and was told, "Oh no, I just thought you should know," so I played along and granted my approval. It was quite the spectacle with flames on one side and rave on the other.
Next we headed downtown. I wanted to see installation at the Eaton Centre and City Hall. We parked and headed through the crowd. Fist we hit Barricades, a sort of commentary on the G20 and surrounding events in this city, which turned barricades on their heads.
Then we made it into the Eaton Centre and found the Paparazzi Bots. Moving robots, equipped with point-and-shoot cameras and facial recognition software could choose (or not choose) people to focus on like paparazzi, to photograph and broadcast their image. It was interesting to see people grinning hopefully, wanting to be the centre of attention.
We headed past Shannon's Fireflies, which unfortunately was having technical difficulties, and thus was not lit, to City Hall. He heard the eery invisible parade (music broadcast without visible source). I was interested to see people 'flying' around Nathan Phillips Square. I knew lines would be long, but thought they would be something to see. It turns out that the lightshow was much more interesting. Flight Path allowed visitors to ride a bird-shaped zip-line container to 'fly' across the square - except they moved quite slowly, so it wasn't that exciting. The lightshow, on the other hand was very impressive. Lines and planes of multicolour light were visible throughout the smokey square. It seemed that images of clouds were projected onto the light planes. This gave the illusion of a 3D projection, and the feeling of being embedded in the sky. The lights also formed archways, squiggles and other shaped.
To the south of City Hall, someone played drums within a disassembled car, which exploded outward as in an 'exploded technical diagram'.
I needed to see the glowing wolves, so we headed to the Cloud Garden, north of Scotia Plaza to see INFRA. To be honest, I was expecting more from the resin wolves glowing with fluorescent colours allegedly micmicking their heat energy as viewed in the infrared.
Inside the Scotia Plaza, I was keen to see City Mouse, a sculptural investigation of what is natural. Within the skyscrapper's lobby, a miniature simulated forest is filled with taxidermied animals (raccoon, wolf, bear and hawk). The animals in turn are filled with unusual and detailed scenes of masked business people, at their desks, in their cubicles, waiting for the elevator or shredding documents. I was not disappointed, despite the wait to see a small exhibit; I really admire what worlds artist Julia Hepburn created.
We headed home after that, quite slowly. We debated going to Trinity-Bellwoods, but only drove by. I wanted to see the balloon installation outside the Drake Hotel. It was a mistake to attempt to drive along Queen Street just as the bars let out, but I did catch a glimpse of the giant clown, the patchwork covered van, and other Parkdale LEITMOTIF entries.
Overall, it was a good night. I felt perhaps less moved than on other previous Nuits Blanches, but, we managed to see some intriging and beguiling art, some great spectacle, no one fell off a dubious scaffholding, and we had some unusual experiences we won't soon forget. This is really a wonderful event in the life of the city, and everyone should check out what they can.
