Entering Ray Mead's Garden of Oedipus
When someone thinks of abstract art — and by someone, I mean someone probably from this continent, not very well acquainted with it — the first thing to come to mind is probably abstract expressionism, with visions of Jackson Pollack prowling around a canvas dripping slashes of paint at it. There's nothing wrong with that, unless, rather than opening a door of curiosity, it slams it shut dismissively — which I can understand.
Next, if a little more percipient, one may think of the abstract movement that originated in New York in the late forties/early fifties, America's greatest contribution to the world of fine art. (That this new art movement was promulgated by the CIA with Rockefeller's fortune backing it is something not so very well known, and a topic for a future blog post.)
When one thinks of Canadian Art — if anyone other than Canadians think of it at all, that is — one thinks of landscape painting, especially The Group of Seven.. And that's fine because, after all, Canadian landscape painting is second to none in the world. (Though the world has yet to agree with that... But it's getting there.) But Canada has also... Read more