The Unofficial Escapescapes Manifesto

One night last year I was walking down Queen Street here in Toronto. It was about 1 a.m. and I was alone. Although it wasn't the weekend, the summer air had the city in full party behavior. As I approached a well-known Toronto bar, I noticed someone being thrown out the front door by security guards. As it turned out, I not only knew who this person was, but also went to high school with him. I won't mention his name because it is not important to the story.
As he laid on the sidewalk looking like a pile of dirty laundry, I walked up to him to see if he was okay. He looked up at me in his brutally intoxicated state and, without even saying hello, says
"Hey man, are you still doing those large prairie landscape paintings?"
"Yes" I said, and continued on my way.
I haven't spoken to him since.

To be completely honest, I have no idea why I make these paintings. To take it a step further, I am almost comfortable saying that I don't even like looking at other landscape paintings, even my own sometimes.


My very first landscape that I can recall painting was when I was 18 and in high school. At that point I had no real direction in my artwork and experimented with still life, abstract, color fields, watercolor and photorealism. In fact, my first landscape piece was actually a seascape done with acrylic (which I later sold to a teacher who hilariously claimed it was the finest piece she'd ever seen come out of the paint department). It didn't stop there. From then on, all I could think of was landscapes. My focus was channeled into not only the landscape genre, but a very specific, almost minimalist approach to rendering each image.

This shift will be approaching its ten year anniversary very soon. Dozens of canvases and numerous showings later, I'm still producing work in the same style as I did all those years ago. The thought of whether or not I've progressed has never crossed my mind. Yet now that I think of it, I suppose that the only progress I've made is in my technique and knowledge of the materials I use. The work itself remains on a constant thread of ideologies and subject matter. Yet what is the work?

These paintings are large: I don't operate well in small spaces because I am not a small person. I like the idea that the canvas size should be an extension of the dimensions of your body, and that your arms, hands, and eyes should have room to roam freely within that space. They are landscapes, yes. There is always a distinct horizon line, one that I can't help but keep perfectly straight. The colors and moods created are fictional, and the palettes I've used have ranged from the natural blue skies to alien tones such as greens, purples, and yellows.

Although they would readily be classified as landscapes, I almost consider them to be more of cloud portrait paintings, which is where I believe the main focus to be in most of the pieces.

As I mentioned in the story at the beginning, some people believe these paintings to be grounded in the prairie landscape. Although I can understand that they give this impression through their flatness, I would have to disagree on some level. When I arrange these works, I am usually more drawn to marsh-like landscapes than farmed land. I find that the presence of water within a landscape provides endless possibilities for reflections, compositions and dynamism. That's not to say that I don't draw inspiration from the prairies: let's not forget that I drove there with specific intent on studying them years ago.

So why do I make them? I'm still not exactly sure. I think it's because they just make so much sense to me. Also, I think the fact that I still make plenty of mistakes when I paint, and will often paint over work in progress or older work (my most recent painting has four others underneath it), keeps me wanting to continue and practice more and more. The title "Escapescapes" comes from this yearning to leave the urban life for nature, so they have that sense of escapism. Having said that, I don't use reference material for most of these works, and that they imaginative love letters to the outside world. They are generally beautified glorifications of landscapes: the colors used are by and large sweet and warm tones - speaking to the hopeful notion that the grass is greener on the other side.
I should also mention that the majority of my work was done within a room with no windows, no power, and no ventilation, so you can see why the idea of escaping to somewhere natural was a necessary idea.


With that in mind, I would be the first to tell you that these works are inherently selfish. I love that people have been moved by these paintings, but it is very personal work and I do it mainly out of self gratification. This is why I've usually had trouble with the idea of doing commissioned work from photographs.

For now, I will continue to produce these works for an upcoming solo show this summer. I have no desire to stop producing these works, and am fortunate to have new spaces to paint and hang work continuously.


 

"commanding presence"

This post concerns itself with one building: the Aura Condominium currently being built in College Park, downtown Toronto. This building boasts itself for being the largest residential condominium in the country. Seeing as I lived in that neighborhood for three consecutive years, with some affection I might add, I feel somewhat responsible for voicing some concerns about this massive undertaking.

First, I will list my credentials. I lived in The Liberties, Tower III for three years. I know every inside and out to that neighborhood; from the secret passages underneath the Delta Chelsea, to the rooftop access to the LuCliffe building, many of the local business owners and government workers by name, the wind speeds of Bay street, the angle the sun passes during the winter months, the ridiculous service charge at the ATM machine in the convenience store, the timing of the advanced green lights on Gerard street, and that weird little shack covered in pigeon shit that houses a zamboni. I know it all. I have an affinity for College Park in general, and although the two parking lots that once occupied the corner of Yonge and Gerard may not have been the best use of space, building a 75 storey tower certainly isn't any better.

When discussing the problems with the Aura tower, it is important to mention where and what surrounds the building.

Yonge Street, located just immediately East of the building is notorious, among many things, for being the longest street in the world. Littered along this street in this neighbouhood is a surplus of adult movie stores, chinese restaurants, low-end retail outfits and strip clubs for several blocks until you hit the tourist-eyesore that is Dundas Square. At the corner of Gerard, Yonge is four lanes wide, consistently halved by turning cars in either lane and congested by massive amounts of commuters and tourists.

Gerard Street, located just South, is the site of the main entrance/exit to the Aura tower. Conversely to Yonge, Gerard is only two lanes wide with sidewalks on either side (one belonging mainly to the Delta Chelsea's main street entrance, which also includes an airport shuttle that arrives every 30 minutes). Aside from condominiums, Gerard is currently occupied by cabs, drivers frustrated with one-way streets, and emergency vehicles.


My main concern is the utter congestion of College Park. The building is barely completed and the majority of the 75-story tower has been sold (which is standard for building practices). If you consider that the building will be almost completely filled by the time of completion, we're looking at at least two thousand people, if not more, additional occupants to the area. Although the building praises itself for being connected to the PATH system (you still have to take a $3 subway one stop to get there), it is only presumable that at least half of the towers occupants will have vehicles.
After seeing the day-to-day construction of Aura's parking facilities, which can be seen here, it is obvious that the parking accommodations are completely massive, appearing to exceed 7 storey's below ground.

Remember when I mention the two lane's of Gerard street? Now throw the extra cars into the equation.

Today, turning on to Gerard is an annoyance in itself. Confused travellers heading into the Delta are slow, cabs consistently pull over sporatically, people J-walk, and there are emergency vehicles constantly (Toronto General's ER is one block away). Did I forget to mention there are also two bike lanes? The utter mess that I can only forsee will be chatostrophic. The morning and evening rushes will be straight hell and will only create more problems for the emergency vehicles. The corner of Yonge and Gerard will be permanently jammed from all the "don't-give-a-shit-I'm-walking-here" locals. Bay street will be one permanent horn sound, and University will no doubt be congested by the turning South cars heading towards the QEW.

That's just cars.

Bringing those thousands of people back into the equation, let's talk about College Park the building. For those of us who've experienced the 180,000 square foot shopping centre more than once, it's easy to classify the centre as feverish. Seeing as the building houses a 24-hour Metro grocery store, as well as College subway station, the foot traffic alone is enough to peeve any pedestrian. Adding thousands to that equation brings Advil commercials to mind. For starters, the Metro is already insane. I honestly believe that not only will the store itself not be able to contain the demand of the customers, but will not be able to supply the amount of produce needed to feed that many urbanites. Shit, they already run out of red peppers as it is. The only real times to get any quality, uninterrupted shopping done is between the hours of 12a.m.-5a.m., and even then the place is not empty.
Upstairs, the Winners will flood and the Tim Hortons line will extend only further out the door, at all hours of the day. The College subway station will bottleneck, as it is one of the smallest stations situated in the downtown core, and one of the most utilized.

Although the building, once completed, will be an urban architectural marvel, I believe the ripple effect it will have on that neighborhood will be more detrimental than the planners originally foresaw in terms of transportation, supply and demand, and functionality. I didn't need to write this article, because the fact of the matter is I'll probably never live in that area again. But given my realtionship with the neighborhoud, as well as my close friends that still live and work there that will have their lifestyles ultimately altered (as well as their view), I felt it necessary to voice my detest for the entire project, which I have from day one.

For more information, you can visit the Aura website.

show my some skin

As I made my way downtown this morning to pick up my developed negatives (something which is worth writing about in its own right), I could hear some pleasant ruckus heading south down Spadina Ave. at the corner of College St.

Not to my surprise, it was about 150 people all cycling, naked.

I've said it before, but I love this city. I have not once looked out onto the landscape and felt tiresome about living here. No matter how long I've lived here there's still mystery around every corner, in every neighborhood, within every bar. Just when you think you've come to grips with your area, a friend takes you down a back alley and it's a whole new ray of light. I'm not phased whatsoever by the fact that I have to live here for probably four more years.

As for todays marathon, that stuff happens all the time.

Here's a clip from a ride from the past.

peas and tarot's

Two shoots. Two days. Rush rush rush.

I was experimenting with a flash setup I bummed from school, except the sync chord they gave me didn't sync at all, so they were only really good for spot lights, but I made do.
I snapped some band shots last night of the lineup we've currently been rehearsing with. Who knew that one day we'd have another ginger, who's name is also Andrew, who also went as Tin Tin for Halloween? I don't know if I like the sounds of those similarities. As long as he can't freestyle as good as me, I'll be okay.

There are more shots, but they'll be released on our Myspace when we're good and ready: probably after a few more rehearsals.

The next shoot was this morning at Blair's urban planning firm.

I was hired on by Cal Brook and Anne McIlroy, who are quite possibly the two most gracious and patient bosses I've ever met. The shoot went very well. I allowed myself a little over three hours to shoot, and the production meeting we had weeks beforehand helped us craft the sort of images they were looking for to add to their website.
Despite my serious sickness, I managed to pull together a fine body of work (and even got to use a ladder). I'd add more photos to see, but they currently don't belong to me. Oh to be a business. Fun day nevertheless, and I even got another job out of it.

On a final note, Anne told me my personality is reflected in my work. Probably one of the best compliments I've received all year.

There you have it. Another capper on one of those "Impossible Weeks" I seem to keep having.

True Patriot Love

Happy Canada Day, my friends.

Having skimmed through my usual blog roll earlier this evening, I thought it necessary to at least brush upon the fact that it's Canada Day. The only thing I've missed mentioning while on tour is the passing of Michael Jackson, but that topic deserves some planning, which I'll get to.

But really, etiquette and tact aside: I love this fucking country.

For starters, I should mention that I've never really understood the large amount of pride that one puts into it's own nation. You'll never see me defending Canada in fatigues, nor will you see the red maple leaf stained permanently on my arm. I've always thought that priding oneself on the soil you were born on was more of an elementary idea, and that goes for every nation. There's not a country on this planet that I'd pronounce any pride from. However, I know that I enjoy living here.

I won't go on about how much I love the Rockies or Double-Double's, but rather what is contained within our borders, figuratively speaking. Our culture (and trust me, we have one) is such an incredibly fragile thing. It really only hangs by a few, strong threads. Our passive nature as a nation really allows us to legitimately lollygag around almost any situation, and I love that. The manners, the courtesy, the respect for one another: it's all quite remarkable.

It's only when you step outside of this nation that you realize how unique our culture really is. And you need not travel too far: minutes south of any Canadian border lies an accent you'd swear was as foreign to you as China. Having traveled across this country many times, under very different circumstances, I can tell you that Canadian culture is not too hard to find. All you really need is an empty stomach (to crave the food), a vehicle and destination (for the sights), some knowledge of the French language (because you're supposed to), and an old couple to talk to (because that's where the straight Canadian goods lie, largely).

I could just as easily go on about how many problems we have in this country, but I'll leave that for another day. Because who likes to get shit on when it's their birthday?

And besides, I got to see Joel Plaskett play last night for free in St. Johns, New Brunswick, so how hard can life here be?

I really want to revise this, but I'm tired from driving across the country. I'm going to bed, and wouldn't have it any other way.

Happy Birthday Canada.

if you were a latino, I'd be fucked

There they are: the two official handsome chauffeurs of the Hue 2009 East Coast Tour.

I don't believe I've ever mentioned such things on this blog, but my band is touring the East coast of Canada starting next week (June 24th to July 25th to be exact). To be totally honest, I'm equally excited and uneasy. It's definitely not the most legit tour ever compiled. On top of slightly shotty tour dates, we're camping. How you like me now? It's going to get really, really greasy. But hey! That stuff is right up my alley.

I've been very fortunate to have seen the many corners of this country at such a young age. It's been some time since I've visited the East, which is nice because I have an altered appreciation for pretty much everything since last visiting when I was 13. Wow, a decade ago? Where does the time go. I still know the feeling of being nearly blown off my feet by the wind, atop a hill in St. Johns. I still remember the smell of the ocean, and I definitely still remember the smell of my No. 5 Dippity Doo hair gel I used at the time. That shit could impale.

Speaking of greasy travelling, Dan and I are no strangers to it. Him and I have traveled half-way around the world together and done some of the most despicable things you can think of, all in the name of survival. Sleeping in parks, eating out of the garbage, shitting in the outback, stealing hundreds worth of drinks, using other peoples towels (fuck), trying to catch food, chasing kangaroos - although I wouldn't call that survival, I just really wanted to box that mo-fo. He took it like a bitch.

Needless to say, we know what we're doing in the wild. We became men at a very young age. Some of that shit I can't even tell you about. Either way, for the tour I'm going to re-open the Spreken Ze Talk blog, just to extend my travel stories this summer.

And it's not even over yet!

The first week of August marks my fourth annual "Men With Clubs" tour. It's basically me and a bunch of retired teachers/principals golfing Northern Michigan for four days. It's really just beer, golf, dudes, and jokes. I love it.

I'll post again before we leave. Show tonight at the London Music Club (big hall), then tomorrow at Mitzi's Sister around 9, then Friday at Pogue Mahones in Sarnia. I have to put up some paintings at Vdara before then.

My life is a circus.

monday morning

I had another great day in the studio today. Early start, cup of coffee, full generator and some of my favorite albums to listen to. After I emptied out the piss bucket (this space is underground, don't ask) and cleaned some dry brushes, I got to painting. The most difficult thing I think in landscape painting is revisiting a piece after around a week. Sometimes I need to paint wet-to-dry, so I need to allow the paintings the time to dry out a bit. Colors never seem to match and it's a massive struggle sometimes to get back into that palette and understanding what was where and how they've melded together in the past.

It's cold down there this winter. I can see my breath while I work and it drives me to distraction because I'm constantly warming my hands and blowing my nose. I'm starting to work my way into a more safe way of approaching chemicals and oil paints. It's not uncommon for me to wear plastic gloves and a cotton face mask, and I'll usually leave the door open to make up for my five inch "vent" that couldn't even ventilate a fart. Which leads me to my next point,

For those of you that don't know, I'm half way finished filming a mini-documentary about a trip I took through western North America early this past summer. One part of the trip documented all my painting research and sketches (as well as the trip itself), and the second will include the production of all the artwork, under certain circumstances.
Those being that I am willingly encasing myself in a concrete space for five days with no leaving and no sense of time, with the goal in mind of starting and completing at least six large-scale landscape works. I don't plan on leaving the room for this period which means:

no power (because it's technically a storage space)
no sunlight (also meaning no sense of what time of day it really is)
no watches (because I think that's funny)
no mirrors (because I'd like to see the shit-hole look and surprise when I come out
no running water (again, it's not made for living)
and no light switch (there's no switch; it's a motion-sensor, which means I cant stop moving)

Needless to say, I feel as though I'm getting very close to undertaking this adventure, and it kinda scares me (those who know me well know that I've been talking about this challenge for years now), but it's also really, really exciting.

come on everyone, lets see some smoke

For starters, I've finally finished making some adjustments on the photos I took for the 5x4 performance last month. I don't believe I've mentioned this performance on this blog before, but it was a stellar performance orchestrated by my two good friends Cara and Alicia. They approached me about photographing the event, to which I immediately agreed. We've worked together on a couple projects in the past with great success. The girls are lovely to work with and produce wonderful work.

5x4 was a performance piece that involved 20 performers interacting with 20 regular household items for over an hour. Each person was given a taped-off section, amongst a grid of other performers, to interact, personify and become involved with the item of their choice. Objects ranged from garbage cans, armchairs, mannequins, tables, books, to coat racks. Abstract soundscapes played and each person climbed, wrestled, lifted, and moved their object to it's within it's physical limits.

I was actually quite disappointed to hear that this would be a one-time performance. Each and every onlooker was fully engaged in this very physical performance. Although wildly entertaining and interesting, time is money and these spaces are not cheap to rent. At least the performance will live on through photographic proof.

Speaking of photography; this experience was actually a rare treat to capture from behind the lens. For a minute it almost felt like one of those silly tutorials that camera shows will put on where they'll have one or two well-lit models in a studio setting that fat old white guys will photograph to their hearts content, except on a much larger scale. The treat was that I had free range to photograph 20 individuals freely in a beautifully lit setting. I decided to avoid the distractions of flash photography, and went fully manual to avoid that "beep" when using auto-focus. I definitely did not want to be "that guy" who's clicking, flashing, and stepping on everyone throughout the entire performance.

The rest of the photos can be viewed on my flickr account at:

www.flickr.com/filmsnotdead

don't believe the rumors, canada is huge

Hello, hello, hello.
After nearly 4,000 kilometers of driving, I now sit in a sweaty apartment in downtown Vancouver. It has been a long, long, journey. A lot of driving, a lot of sites, and a lot of fun.
We basically started in Toronto and made our way above the Great Lakes. We took the Chee-Chee-Munch ferry to Manitoulin Island and continued towards Sault St. Marie. After a night of camping in Massey, we rose at 6am to hit the road. That day, we drove until 4:30 in the morning on one of the most dangerous highways in Canada. We literally had to drive directly behind a transport truck to avoid hitting a moose or deer, almost like a quarterback and a blocker in football. I know I don't drive the highway all that often, but I'm pretty sure that is something no driver should ever have to do.
We continued on to Manitoba. We stopped in Winnipeg for the afternoon. The two of us took a tour at the Royal Canadian Mint (where a brand new Talkin Schmidt was filmed), and visited some art galleries, stretched our legs, and bought some black stand up albums for the ride. Comedic cd's are something that I now consider to be a road trip necessity. Highly recommended, and the dirtier the better.
Then came time to rest for the night. We stopped in a little town called Brandon, Manitoba and booked a hotel. We barbecued in the parking lot and drank beer. There was also an incredible storm that night, which caused us to run around in farmers fields at top speeds, laughing and photographing the Prussian-blue clouds. I'll post some photos of that night at a later date. Brandon really knows how to party.
Then came the prairies. Awesome! The only disappointing thing about Saskatchewan is that you can drive across it in one day, and we did. We stopped numerous times to film, sketch, and absorb the ultimate flatness of the farmland. After only the third day, I uploaded my laptop (also known as the self-degrading camping device) with over 350 photos documenting clouds, ditches, fields, sunlight, gulches, crops, reflections, lakes, and rivers.
Later, we drove into Alberta, to the mountains! For those of you who haven't driven across Canada, the border of Alberta is lined with the Rockies, which looks strangley like a group of bullies trying to keep you out of Banff. We made our way to Banff, where Mike bought a classic new t-shirt, and I bought one with a wolf on it. We stayed at a friends place for the night and, again, got up early to hit the road to Vancouver.
So, there you have it. Sorry about the lack of photos in this post. I guarentee a motherload when it is time to come home. It's funny, really; this is easily the most technically-advanced road excursion I've ever witnessed: one b/w film camera, one digital slr, one ipod, one laptop, one digital video camera, one high-definition video camera, three tripods, one cellphone, and my trusty generator. Let's just say that no matter where we stop, something is being charged. I'll try to update again once we hit the states. Stick around! Andicles.

here goes something

It's about bloody time for another adventure.

I decided that now was the time to take some time off, away from the city, and venture somewhere into the woods. I asked my brother, Bike, if he wanted to join me on this expedition. This venture still makes me laugh at how hap-hazard the planning has been. We do, however, know where we're going, how we're getting there, and what we intend on doing with our time. Aside from an incredible amount of driving, we've got a couple tricks up our sleeves still.

Our route will take us north, around the great lakes towards Sault St. Marie, from there we'll venture up to Winnipeg, and make our way to the prairies of Saskatchewan, where my heart currently lies. From there I plan on making a few stops around Edmonton to see some friends, then continue on to visit more friends and some family in B.C. After that, we're venturing down into Seattle and the Pacific Northwest (something I've really wanted to see since watching Sunken Treasure with Jeff Tweedy). From there, it's off to Montana, South Dakota, Yellowstone National Park (psyched! Andy Adams, what), Devils Tower (close encounters of the third kind), Chicago, and hopefully the Museum of Motown in Detroit. It rounds off to about 8,500 k's; and with gas as high as it is, I'm sure to come home BROKEback Mountain.



I had this one wallpaper on my laptop almost the entire year that was a very simple image of the prairies at the break of dawn. Every night before I went to bed I would think about this place and strive to stand and breathe its air one day. I've got some sick obsession with deserted places, I think. I dream of the desert, constantly. This is probably why every landscape painting I've ever done (save for one portrait of Springbank Park), has a completely flat horizon line. Rural Canadian desert will do just fine. My plan is to wake up when the little hand on my watch points South, step out of whatever I may be sleeping in that night, hop a fence, and sit in some field when the air is still nice and cool and there's nothing breathing but myself for miles around.

This is where most of my inspiration lies and lives, and what I consider to be something close to heaven which, according to some (below), is a place I won't get to anytime soon!

(pictured: Han Solo and Iron Chef Bobby Flay, jumping on a bed)

Another big plan for this journey includes a documentary. Bike is an aspiring filmmaker, and I approached him about making a film that documents me documenting. It's kind of like a documentary, squared.
The main premise has two parts to it: one part studying the landscape through paintings, drawings, photographs, etc, and the second part being the actual production of the work, in which case I will lock myself in a concrete room for at least 5 days with no sense of time and no electricity. The two premises, in the film, will intermingle - showing from start to finish how my work is done. On top of everything else, I plan on writing the musical soundtrack for the film, possibly with the help of a few talented musicians. The film would be shown with the work, once exhibited. This is something I've wanted to do for a while now and am very, very excited for. It's a lot of work, but that's what the summer is for.

Needless to say, I'm pumped and am starting to get that "night-before-Christmas" vibe in my stomach when I sleep. Wish us a safe journey, in the Millennium Falcon.