The group show “The Art of Loss.” Guest curated by Paula O’Brien, runs October 12th to November 4th 2018 at the Gibsons Public Art Gallery. A transcription of the writing on the photo is included at the end of this post. Here is the description of the show:
Loss is woven into the tapestry of our lives. The repeated experience of loss becomes a template for managing the loss of those we love and, ultimately, our own demise. GPAG and the Hospice Society invited a number of local artists to consider how experiences of grief and loss can inspire us to live more fully. These works in painting, sculpture, mixed media and videography will inspire reflection and discussion on this intimate, and frequently avoided, topic. A portion of the proceeds from art sales will benefit the work of both GPAG and the Hospice Society. The exhibition is curated by Paula O'Brien.
Contributing artists: Donna Balma, Paul Clancy, Pat Crucil, Liz De Beer, Jen Drysdale, Mary Lou Guest, Kristjana Gunnars, Gordon Halloran, Roger Handling, Jane Hennessy, Shain Jackson, RoseAnn Janzen, Trisha Joel, Carol La Fave, Kim La Fave, Ian MacLeod, Marilyn Marshall, Sheryl McDougald, Janice McFegan, Tim McLaughlin, Charly Mithrush, Paula O'Brien, Dionne Paul, Cindy Riach, Miyuki Shinkai, Donna Stewart, Robert Studer, Marleen & Dolf Vermeulen, Alanna Wood.
Curator Paula O’Brien has also uploaded the catalogue of the show.
In the morning the day is infinite.
If I could, I would get up so early each day that the world would last forever.
But I am caught by my body, by the embrace of sleep, and by the wanderings of my dreams.
Young romance is one of infatuation. Old romance is one of consideration.
I enjoy watching people moving; the tides of passers-by; variations on the human form; variations on character. I do not ask to know them. For me it is enough to float, as if in a boat on the waves of their passing.
And each person is a small glint on the water. Each one a sound; a droplet or ripple that speaks as the currents shift. Like water they are soon gone; dispersed and vanished and as forgotten as a crowd that gathered on a Toronto street in 1961 … or a Paris square in 1857 … or a Roman theatre on a date too distant to record.
Photographs age like opportunity. People age like indifference.
In the evening the night is infinite.
If I could I would stay awake so late each night that the world would last forever.
But I am caught by my body
by my imagination that travels over the water, like a wing over glass, and by the wanderings of my dreams.