possibility in Vancouver. "Some artists have managed
to do that. But my way of working is to stay home, |
don't fly to Cologne and promote myself, | just work in
the studio. So that means you kind of have to be ina
larger center, so people can come to you." But having
left the security of the Queen E. she flailed financially.
Then she landed a job teaching one class at the Ontario
College of Art. After a while she managed to get
another and the two classes provided her with enough
to subsist on. Throughout the years Magor was able to
sell some of her art, and over time sales and prices have
increased, but she says it wasn't until relatively recently
that she has felt financially comfortable.

For 12 years she remained in Toronto, working
in her studio. But, for Magor, something needed
changing. Her personal and professional lives were
physically separated by most of Canada. Toronto was,
for her, just a professional domain; every summer for
four months she came back to BC Here was always
home. "My involvement in terms of the culture, my
friends and my family were still here, | mean, | main-
tained that. | didn't replace those things when | moved
to Toronto." So in 1993 she moved back to Vancouver
and got odd jobs at UBC and U of Vic. Twice she had
to return to OCA to teach - living here, working there.
Liz Magor's migratory search for art seems to have been
mirrored in the geographic dislocations that characterize
her life.

‘But the physical displacement may now be
over as she has recently begun working at Emily Carr.
It's the first full-time job she's ever had. After this long,
her professional life is established and she can return

-home and maintain it from afar. “I'd rather be here...

"| like Vancouver in that it's not a cosmopolitan place

-- exactly .. .° It's stillin formation. In my own work | like

a material.that seems like it's going to revert at any

“ moment back to raw material. . . This city still feels like

é that.’ If you walk along the edge of the water, there's
~~ lots-of places that are still completely overgrown with
~ blackberries."

It's no surprise that she relies on material to
explain her feelings toward the city; materials occupy a
prominent place in the creation of meaning and
metaphor in her work. She says she doesn't work from
a love or adoration of them, though she admits that
some of her friends refer to her as a "Gross
Materialist". «In: response she says, "I'm no more so
than the whole world is . . . and if my work is in some
‘way interested in being in a dialogue with the world
and the objects in the world, then to pay attention to
material is important." Her creative process never starts
with the material, the right one is always sought out.
"There are many unfortunate times when | accidentally
do something interesting with a material . . . but | can
never join it up to a concept, it's always the other way
around [the material ideas remain] . . . lonely babies
that don't go anywhere."

Throughout the years, Magor's work has
necessitated a search for some unique materials. In one
of her latest pieces, she has cast a tree with a plaster
that has a resin component. "I found it while seeking
out something else-and | made a note... | make notes
of everything . . . if you're phoning the glue guy or
something. Often when I'm really stuck I'll go back and
look at the notes. So | knew about that material a cou-
ple of years before the work."

The cast.tree wound up in a gallery lined with
a sleeping bag. The piece was inspired by the activities
of civil war re-enactors, a group of people Magor had

been led to years before. Unbeknownst to her, they
provoked questions, ideas and emotions that has pro-
pelled her art to this day. In them she found a micro-
cosm of society that amplified certain issues of identity
with which she was concerned. "The re-enactors felt
more themselves as someone else." They have con-
structed a complex alter-identity. Bit by bit, Magor has
been examining different aspects of identity that have
arisen for her through their “elaborate form of play .. .
In a way, their historical journey or time-travel was a
way to create a bubble around themselves so they could
control that small world." For Magor, their retreat from
the world is a drive for shelter. In the tree piece, she
creates the image of a bunker or hideout and asks her-
self and viewers "What is it that needs protecting?"

Her newest exhibit, which is opening February
25 at the Contemporary Art Gallery, is an extension of
these ideas. “It's about the need or the desire to store
or stash things as a hedge against chaos or disruption.
So its about that kind of gathering . . . that drive to put
aside the things that will make you self-sufficient as a
form of protection. Most of the re-enactors are attract-
ed to these sorts of survival scenarios. | can't say I'm
free of that myself. | have a cupboard full of food .. .
And | want to know there are some noodles there all
the time." Magor expresses an attitude that | think pre-
vents a patronizing tone from ever entering her work.
It's something | admire, and in
terms of the re-enactors it must
have proved a big challenge.
When she spoke at Emily Carr
last year she talked about fight-
ing the temptation to become
the ironic sociologist. She said
then that to avoid going there,
she set herself the goal to see
"... . how close she could come
to sincere without getting senti-
mental."

Over the years Liz
Magor's work has been an
exploration of identity. Like a
glass globe raised to the light,
she has turned it this way and
that examinimg its refraction
and reflection. She has taken a
microscopic look at time's
indentations pock-marking its
surface. She has reasoned, test-
ed and intuited its production,
creating simulations to better
understand its manufacture and
development. Two years ago
Liz Magor was the first artist |
was introduced to when | began
(what | hope will be) my last cir-
cle around the quarry. Since
that day her work has moved -
me and challenged me...
Now, so too has her flight.

Four boys and a girl, 1979

possibilty in Vancouver. "Some artists have managed
to do that. But my way of working is to stay home, |
don't fly to Cologne and promote myself, | just work in
the studio. So that means you kind of have to be in a
larger center, so people can come to you." But having
left the security of the Queen E. she flaled financially
Then she landed a job teaching one class at the Ontario
College of Art. After a while she managed to get
another and the two classes provided her with enough
to subsist on. Throughout the years Magor was able to
sell some of her art, and over time sales and prices have
increased, but she says it wasn't until relatively recently
that she has felt financially comfortable.

For 12 years she remained in Toronto, working
inher studio. But, for Magor, something needed
changing. Her personal and professional lives were
physically separated by most of Canada. Toronto was,
for her, just a professional domain; every summer for
four months she came back to BC Here was always
home. "My involvement in terms of the culture, my
friends and my family were still here, | mean, | main-
tained that. | didn't replace those things when | moved
to Toronto." So in 1993 she moved back to Vancouver
and got odd jobs at UBC and U of Vic. Twice she had
to return to OCA to teach - living here, working there.
Liz Magor's migratory search for art seems to have been
mirrored in the geographic dislocations that characterize
her life.

But the physical displacement may now be
over as she has recently begun working at Emily Carr.
It's the first full-time job she's ever had. After this long,
her professional life is established and she can return
home and maintain it from afar. “I'd rather be here .

I like Vancouver in that it's not a cosmopolitan place
exactly... . It's still in formation. In my own work I like
2 thaterial that seems like it's going to revert at any
moment back to raw material... This city stil feels ike
that.” If you walk along the edge of the water, there's
lots of places that are still completely overgrown with
blackberries."

It’s no surprise that she relies on material to
explain her feelings toward the city; materials occupy a
prominent place in the creation of meaning and
metaphor in her work. She says she doesn't work from
a love or adoration of them, though she admits that
some of her friends refer to her as a "Gross
‘Materialist”. In response she says, "I'm no more so
than the whole world is. . . and if my work is in some
way interested in being in a dialogue with the world
and the objects in the world, then to pay attention to
material is important." Her creative process never starts
with the material, the right one is always sought out.
"There are many unfortunate times when | accidentally
do something interesting with a material. . . but | can
never join it up to a concept, it's always the other way
around [the material ideas remain] . .. lonely babies
that don't go anywhere.”

‘Throughout the years, Magor's work has
necessitated a search for some unique materials. In one
of her latest pieces, she has cast a tree with a plaster
that has a resin component. "I found it while seeking
out something else-and | made a note . .. | make notes
of everything . .. if you're phoning the glue guy or
something. Often when I'm really stuck I'l go back and
look at the notes. So | knew about that material a cou-
ple of years before the work.”

The cast tree wound up in a gallery lined with
a sleeping bag. The piece was inspired by the activities
of civil war re-enactors, a group of people Magor had

been led to years before. Unbeknownst to her, they
provoked questions, ideas and emotions that has pro-
pelled her art to this day. In them she found a micro-
cosm of society that amplified certain issues of identity
with which she was concerned. "The re-enactors felt
more themselves as someone else." They have con-
structed a complex alter-identity. Bit by bit, Magor has
been examining different aspects of identity that have
arisen for her through their "elaborate form of play
In a way, their historical journey or time-travel was a
way to create a bubble around themselves so they could
control that small world." For Magor, their retreat from
the world is a drive for shelter. In the tree piece, she
creates the image of a bunker or hideout and asks her-
self and viewers "What is it that needs protecting?"

Her newest exhibit, which is opening February
25 at the Contemporary Art Gallery, is an extension of
these ideas. "It's about the need or the desire to store
or stash things as a hedge against chaos or disruption.
So its about that kind of gathering . .. that drive to put
aside the things that will make you self-sufficient as a
form of protection. Most of the re-enactors are attract-
ed to these sorts of survival scenarios. | can't say I'm
free of that myself. | have a cupboard full of food . .
‘And | want to know there are some noodles there all
the time." Magor expresses an attitude that | think pre-
vents a patronizing tone from ever entering her work.
It's something | admire, and in
terms of the re-enactors it must
have proved a big challenge.
When she spoke at Emily Carr
last year she talked about fight-
ing the temptation to become
the ironic sociologist. She said
then that to avoid going there,
she set herself the goal to see
*.... how close she could come
to sincere without getting senti-
mental."

Over the years Liz
‘Magor's work has been an
exploration of identity. Like a
alass globe raised to the light,
she has turned it this way and
that examinimg its refraction
and reflection. She has taken a
microscopic look at time's
indentations pock-marking its
surface. She has reasoned, test-
ed and intuited its production,
creating simulations to better
understand its manufacture and
development. Two years ago
Liz Magor was the first artist |
was introduced to when | began
(what I hope will be) my last cir-
dle around the quarry. Since
that day her work has moved
me and challenged me
Now, so too has her flight.