enormous contradictions, paradoxes, and moments of self-revelation involved, my understanding and recognition of the form of this form was immediate. — | am highly suspicious of easy answers, and a form which can come up with exactly twenty questions to be answered, tells me it is on the wrong track. Perhaps 187 questions would be better, or an infinite number. Perhaps just one would be more appropriate; perhaps that. one question is too difficult to frame . ... Low— high, one to five, what is low? What is high? Where does 0 come into the scale, or a really negative effect, or a contribution of a decisive quality which goes above the scale of a mere “‘high”’. Let me say also that | know what is wrong with the. content of this form. It fails to recognise that the very best teaching, and the efforts from the very best students, are like art, not definable. And also like art, to be a good student and a good teacher carries an element of gamble, and therefore a risk of failure. This evaluation, together with its contentious partner the grading system, tends out of self interest, to produce small, confined, separate, safe courses of limited expecta- tions. Between them, it is almost certain to be a formula for mediocrity. If my contribution as an artist in an art school does not aim to project a student’s vision beyond one of limited education, he or she will be unfit and unable to survive as artists when they graduate, even if they are up to their armpits in A’s from successful courses. A touch of Zen may come in handy for the decisive question of what you consider to be the weakest and strongest features of a course: ‘My strength will reveal my weakness My weakness will hide my strength.’ It is a quotation that any aspiring artist at the E.C.C.A. may consider. Ray Arnatt Review The one thing that intrigues me about well known artists after years of creative existence is whether they’re evolving or devolving. | won’t pin Michael Snow to it because despite what other people might say | see even a speck as a visual event. At any rate there’s an infinity of thought that runs off each piece. One approach | guess is to take it as a code, separate the elements -and., pull apart the totality of the message, think about it, put it back together again like a mechanic and read it. It’s one ritual of digestion. This artistic event is spread out into four spaces. The large middle room is made into two. The first space you enter is this breathe-it-all-in volume of black space for the film projections. Falling to some neuroses, the technology was put to sleep so I didn’t see any films. After an apology from a beautifully sweet gallery worker, | went on to an image carousel; slide presentation; untitled slidelength 1969-71. It could be taken to be a freeplay on coloured gells (pigmented cellophane). The tool: a projector operating on circular motion, exhibiting on a white wall the captivity of ‘light’ moments. Some- where | read that colour was saturated with information. It was somewhat interesting, the squares of cellophane being hand-held. Like by the ‘hand of God . .. and there shall be light’. Indeed, there were so many elements of composition being thrown around that climaxed, in the sense that one image is remembered, of a room, a woman looking intently towards the camera, and to her left a phenomenon of concentrated luminescence — signifying a presence. However, my presence moved on. The next few ‘pieces’ that were attached to the gallery walls in the room, wanted to build out to the viewer, save for an island, a glass covered coloured paper collage, a visual landform with a predominence of red squares. They all took on a sequential type of construction. A flower field, a huge colour photograph called /mposition being a superimpo- sition of two images: the naked and the clothed. The work beside it entitled RED (1974), think for yourself as the media moves through time. The works take into account different planes of vision, multi-media being the physical means of exploring that path. As such, the next room over is an interesting ex- periment with photographic panning. | call it the thirty second room. It’s called Plus Tard, 25 colour photographs. Seems it was strategically placed beside an adjoining room housing a collection of Emily Carr paintings. Although, it was good to see that it had Canadian Content. The last room, call it what you may, aluminum workroom? Some key words that | found were laminated, ladder, field. Therefore, taking off on a textual clue, one interpretation can be arrived at. The first piece that you encounter in this room is at the entrance — built into the wall. | have a recurring fantasy that one day works of art will be found an opportunity to be integrated into the body of the art gallery environment. Perhaps I’m not looking hard enough. Ed Ivsins Uranium freaks are on my window sill, screaming for justice and an answer, / agree, and fight fot my breath. The damned are varied, can you really be sure of that? An insect killer, that’s what he is, a fruit fly in strawberry jam. : Crusting is indeed lacking, pir man with his spy men, oh! no? there here... Soon he goes, too weak, ya all might be in confusion, good! this is my i poem not yours... No nukes, | saw the mutants, Devo was on the television, Six foot butterflies, art students that are phoney, ain’t nature bliss, let’s all chant, no nukes! Jimmi A Class? Room? A room for middle, lower, and high. Unimportant ages and virtues, talent sometimes. Conversations twist in a fish bowl. Madris y padris, there students of Art Young minds are willed to surrend... We won't. Art is Art, music is music, people are scabs in an art world, maybe avalanche class? Room? We are caught in ana Secrets are played, to plant seeds, We won't be... fooled... games are for the Kid and Cassidy? Right! Jimmi EVES SMIEE Low light intensifies And eyes just smile in comforting leisurely pace / like night transitions When | don’t want to talk When | just want to sit... / like light transitions Which intensifies when my eyes smile while | sit In the night In the Night And the night transitions Brings me dawn in the form of opening my space A different space intensifies Bright light transitions Unlike light transitions Unlike night transitions Make me walk and still my eyes smile And again Ill say to you: “How fast we spend the day Thinking of how wasted we feel How wasted we feel...” But I, in my low light night intensity let my eyes smile on. Laiwan Lorraine Chung 7980 Rooms of white vibrations and blurred vision Some scratches on a table white fine cut lines white fine cut lines fine white cut lines Diets of information and little experience Data fed Thoughts roll and flickering consciousness equals menial dreams B.A.C. Sunday brunch; a White Friar and Whitefriars in Fleet Street, London; the American bald eagle; the white heat of anger and the fear-provok- ing White Horde; white-hot metal and the 374 foot White Horse of Saxon fame; a certain eighteenth century colonial mansion in Wash- ington, D.C.; Kipling’s unfortunate “white man’s burden”: white neb- ula and the white noise of elec- tronic music; a Canadidn winter white-out; the White Rose of York and White Russians; January white sales and a leaping white (silver) salmon on the Kaniapiskau River; white sauce for madame and a man-eating shark for monsieur; white slavery and white suprema- cists seen against the background of the White Terror of eighteenth century France; white tie and tails along the Great White Way; Mel- ville's whale and whitewings (streetsweepers)—to list a double- clutch of words found in the near- est dictionary. But enough. Let us leave this intriguing digression with the disturbing thought that white, in the eastern world, carries with it vast numbers of associations quite other than western man’s conceptions. FROM PAGE ONE From the book: “Papermaking”, Jules Heller thoughts Mm Q pencil : "How ARE You... 1 ORAW AND | SHADE IM A COOL CAT IN A COOL CITY 28 oR 48... | DON'T care." vod howd voy wl oft end ete Witt waite PES ety a) qr (a4 You tar a(aSe \) Titee ALE SOPT MEDIUM, HAno & VRKETIES IN 8 EWE PENCILS ARE THE MOST \WERESTING TooLs KNOWK) TO MAN Verreals — L Bd: Pes a : —— : ! with oe ) wikile hart. “Ve Sittiq on ort t boughs can haviog A Tool To MAKE Your MARK IN LIFE enormous contradictions, paradoxes, and moments of self-revelation involved, my understanding and recognition (of the form of this form was immediate | am highly suspicious of easy answers, and a form Which can come up with exactly twenty questions to be answered, tells me it is on the wrong track. Perhaps 187 questions would be better, or an infinite number. Perhaps just one would be more appropriate; perhaps that one question is too difficult to frame... Low— high, one to five, what is low? What is high? Where does 0 come into the scale, or a really negative effect, or a contribution of a decisive quality which goes above the scale of a mere “high” ‘Let me say also that | know what is wrong with the content of this form. It falls to recognise that the very best teaching, and the efforts from the very best students, are like art, not definable. And also like art, to be a good student and a good teacher carries an element of gamble, and therefore a risk of failure. This evaluation, together with its contentious partner the grading system, tends out of self interest, to produce small, confined, separate, safe courses of limited expecta- tions. Between them, itis almost certain to be a formula for mediocrity. If my contribution as an artist in an art school does not aim to project a student’s vision beyond ‘one of limited education, he or she will be unfit and tunable to survive as artists when they graduate, even if, they are up to their armpits in A’s from successful courses. ‘A touch of Zen may come in handy for the decisive question of what you consider to be the weakest and strongest features of a course: “My strength will reveal my weakness ‘My weakness will hide my strength." It is a quotation that any aspiring artist at the E.C.CA, may consider. Ray Arnatt ‘The one thing that intrigues me about well known artists after years of creative existence is whether they’ evolving or devolving. | won’t pin Michael Snow to it because despite what other people might say | see even a speck as a visual event. At any rate there’s an infinity of thought that runs off each piece. One approach | guess is to take it as a code, separate the elements and, pull apart the totality of the message, think about it, put it back together again like a mechanic and read it. It's one ritual of digestion. This artistic event is spread out into four spaces. ‘The large middle room is made into two. The first space you enter is this breathe-ital-in volume of black space for the film projections. Falling to some neuroses, the technology was put to sleep so I didn’t see any films. ‘After an apology from a beautifully sweet gallery ‘worker, | went on to an image carousel; slide presentation; untitled slidelength 1969-71. It could be taken to be a freeplay on coloured gells (pigmented cellophane). The tool: a projector operating on circular motion, exhibiting ‘on a white wall the captivity of ‘light? moments. Some- Where | read that colour was saturated with information. It was somewhat interesting, the squares of cellophane being hand-held. Like by the ‘hand of God . .. and there shall be light’, Indeed, there were so many elements of composition being thrown around that climaxed, in the Sense that one image is remembered, of a room, a woman looking intently towards the camera, and to her left a phenomenon of concentrated luminescence ~ signifying. a presence. However, my presence moved on. The next few ‘pieces’ that were attached to the gallery wallsin the room, ‘wanted to build out to the viewer, save for an island, a lass covered coloured paper collage, a visual landform With a predominence of red squares. They all took on a sequential type of construction. A flower field, a huge colour photograph called Imposition being a superimpo- sition of two images: the naked and the clothed. The work beside it entitled RED (1974), think for yourself as the media moves through time. The works take into account different planes of vision, multi-media being the physical means of exploring that path. ‘As stich, the next room over is an interesting ex: periment with photographic panning. | call it the thirty second room. It's called Plus Tard, 25 colour photographs. Seems it was strategically placed beside an adjoining room housing a collection of Emily Carr paintings. Although, it was good to see that it had Canadian Content. The last oom, call it what you may, aluminum workroom? Some ey words that | found were laminated, ladder, field Therefore, taking off on a textual clue, one interpretation can be artived at, The first piece that you encounter in this room is at the entrance — built into the wall. I have a recurring fantasy that one day works of art will be found ‘an opportunity to be integrated into the body of the art fallery environment. Perhaps I’m not looking hard enough. Ed Ivsins Uranium freaks are on my window sill, screaming for justice and an answer, Lagree, and fight fot my breath. The damned are varied, can you really be sure of that? An insect killer, that’s what he is, a fruit fly in strawberry jam. Crusting is indeed lacking, pir man with his spy men, oh! no? there here. . Soon he goes, too weak, yaall might be in confusion, good! this is my i poem not yours... No nukes, | saw the mutants, Devo was on the television, Six foot butterflies, art students that are phoney, ain’t nature bliss, et’s all chant, no nukes! Jimmi A Class? Room? A room for middle, lower, and high. Unimportant ages and virtues, talent sometimes. Conversations twist in a fish bow. Madris y padris, there students of Art Young minds are willed to surrend . We won't. Art is Art, music is music, people are scabs in an art world, ‘maybe avalanche class? Room? We are caught in an a Secrets are played, to plant seeds, We won't be... fooled... games are for the Kid and Cassidy? Right! Jimmi EYES SMILE Low light intensifies And eyes just smile in comforting leisurely pace Hike night transitions When I don’t want to talk When I just want to sit . Vike light transitions Which intensifies when my eyes smile while | sit In the night In the Night And the night transitions: Brings me dawn in the form of opening my space A different space intensifies Bright light transitions Unlike light transitions Unlike night transitions ‘Make me walk and still my eyes smile And again I'l say to you: “How fast we spend the day Thinking of how wasted we feel How wasted we feel...” But I, in my low light night intensity let my eyes smile on. Laiwan Lorraine Chung 1980 Rooms of white vibrations and blurred vision ‘Some scratches on a table white fine cut lines white fine cut lines fine white cut lines Diets of information and little experience Data fed Thoughts roll and flickering consciousness equals ‘menial dreams BAC. FROM PAGE ONE Sunday brunch; a White Friar and Whitefriars in Fleet Street, London; the American bald eagle; the white heat of anger and the fear-provok- ing White Horde; white-hot metal and the 374 foot White Horse of Saxon fame; a certain eighteenth century colonial mansion in Wash- ington, D.C; Kipling’s unfortunate “white man's burden’; white neb: Ula and the white noise of elec- tronic music; a Canadian winter white-out; the White Rose of York ‘and White Russians; January white sales and a leaping white (siver) salmon on the Kaniapiskau River, white sauce for madame anda man-eating shark for monsieur; white slavery and white suprema- Cists seen against the background Of the White Terror of eighteenth century France; white tie and tails along the Great White Way; Mel- ville's whale and whitewings (streetsweepers)—to list a double- Clutch of words found in the near- est dictionary. But enough. Let us leave ths intriguing digression with the disturbing thought that white, in the eastern world, carries witht vast numbers of associations quite other than western man's conceptions, From the book: “Papermaking", Jules Heller Ahoughts on @ pencil How ARE You... 1 ORAW AM 1 SHADE IM A GOL CAT IN Am CooL city 28 oR 4B... | Oon'r caae.® ied bard gry ool ct bend wette Write wile Saft a8 Smwdyy see ye ay Cand Ge ten acetel) Tite me SOPT Me vIM, HARD + WEES NB EWEN JERE ARs lee and Loto DIFFS APS! Sy ee wy AND Shaded ~ Ledsa More frihe dark sie # PENCILS \WERESTING TooLs KNewK) TO MAN Recils — Lae Dok ra ARE THE MOST Pe cthodever ta hell ype mt: Sitting on a pene! hn wth the — while ean hart. hough ts ing t hewg A Tool T> MAKE Your. MARK IN LIFE