PUMPKINS ON FRASER
rave days, environmental works. friends, scale
Whimsy. Strange environments. Composition. I have been looking at my work, entitled Pumpkins on Fraser this morning. It was included in my solo show SHELL GAMES a couple of years ago, and is part of the ongoing series that I am working on, documenting the Fraser Avenue studios in Toronto, in their last incarnation before ceasing being artist studios. It is a strange, gorgeous composition of an ingathering of pumpkins and my friend Gigi in a onesie. It reminded me of our younger years in the rave scene in Detroit. She was more a raver than I ever was, but if there was nothing going on at Zoots or any live music, I would tag along to a Ritchie Hawtin party or some such adventure. The early Minus label was mostly from Windsor, and I was always game for their scene. I was fortunate to know a lot of early techno people, who were from Windsor—high school friends and acquaintances. As a result, I was able to be at a lot of early parties. Epic. Packer Plant days. This painting reminded me of the day after a party, where there are sort of unexplainable narratives fizzling out from the night before, unfolding into the comical as the sun came up.
When I first moved to Toronto, I helped a small label —Play Records—throw parties in the Fraser warehouses. I knew how to handle the details of a party, having helped so much in the early days of techno in Detroit. The organizers would stick me under a giant old movie light an a pair of angel wings and I was the go to gal to convert cash into tickets for drinks. I was in very early sobriety then, and found it wild to sit up there watching the party unfurl. A new and different perspective. I remember one very early morning walking home alone in some getup after making out with one of the guys in Broken Social Scene. I nerdily had asked him to breakfast and was promptly rejected. I realized that I was really quite out of touch with a life that I used to thrive in with a bit of imbibing. I have an image of me, sort of dejected, heading home in some silly getup as the sun rose over the old warehouses and industrial buildings in the district. I chuckle every time I remember this walk home—me shedding skin, so, so awkwardly.
Working on this painting made me remember a lot of my times at parties, and what it felt like the morning after. What is actually going on in this painting has nothing to do with how making it made me feel, as in fact, Gigi was preparing for a lovely halloween party at Fraser, and something of my own narrative came in as I rendered it. This is an interesting aspect of painting. To see how your own narrative comes forward into a subject. A funny overlay occurs. A little ghost ship.
Pumpkins on Fraser is large. I believe it measures six foot square. I included an image of it in the gallery window for reference. It needed to be a big work. When it comes to deciding a size for work, I have a distinct understanding of how scale will work that is very intuitive. All of the Fraser works are big. Same with the Lafayette works. The size of a work helps to tell its story. We are in a time where the economy and trade are in a difficult space, and I see a rise in sales of smaller works as a result. Larger works tend to stick around a little longer in the studio, but eventually, they go. Often they go to an office, atrium or restaurant. They go big. Pumpkins almost made it to Korea, but for the cost of shipping such a large work. It was even included in the Art Busan catalogue. Shipping large works can be super cost prohibitive. I have had to crate and ship several from my studio and it is a pain.
I keep meaning to come back to this series. It is incredible how busy my studio always is, but I kind of yearn to slow it down and get into the heart of projects like this. The larger works are so incredible to lose oneself in. There is never enough time for things. What I do know, is that there is a rich, incredible terrain to work within if you follow the breadcrumbs of your own life. I loved following Gigi into her time at Fraser. I love painting Gigi. I could probably paint work of her and Andrew forever and be totally happy to document two that I love, living out their days. Painting friends is terribly fun. More to come on that.
