Sharon Johnston and Mandy Johnston | A Mother and Daughter Exhibition
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The Collectors' Gallery of Art 1332 9 Ave SE, Calgary, Alberta T2G 0T3
Left: Mandy Johnston, “Not Methuselah Bristlecone,” no date; Right: Sharon Johnston, “Tree,” no date
Left: paper mosaic on panel, 16x12"; Right: mixed media fiber art, 15.5 x 12" (courtesy of the Gallery)
Opening Reception: Saturday, May 11th, 2024, 2:00 – 5:00pm, Meet the artists
The Art of Sharon Johnston:
In this work of multiple elements a thematic and aesthetic unity is achieved. The painterly qualities of each complexion are created through a complex interweaving of color areas and textures. The vibrant lemon yellow of the Sudanese woman’s clothing reflects light by way of strategically placed sections of sepia, cream and buff. On the face, matte sections are indicated with pure black, and highlights with irregular patches of mixed grey, purple and brown to convey both the true undertones of the skin, and the impression of light reflecting from it. Her head is a combination of a profile and three quarters view; while we see the silhouette of her features, we see also both of her eyes. The lifted brows and liquidity of the gaze create an impression of vulnerability and sensitivity. A subtle black outline around the headdress suggests recession into depth, and thus mass and volume. From a small, flat woven mat a personality emerges, and claims her space. The Englishwoman is a feisty, aging rose. The neat blue hat, augmented by a “real” ribbon contrasts with a fair face gently marked by a multitude of age spots, and a small dark mole above her left eyebrow. The area of the chin, and within the boundaries of the naso-labial folds is lightened to suggest emergence from the plane of her cheeks, and she looks out at us with a discerning (if not judgemental) blue eye. In true Johnstonian style, the Inuit woman is nestled within a fluffy white aureole of real fur. The delicate monolid eyes are expressively cast sideways, and her heart shaped lips appear to have parted slightly in response to something she sees. Each of these women is an immigrant, and on the threshold of a strange, new world. These are individuals, but are characterized by their culture of origin. They have converged through force of chance and history, and then again through the creative imagination of their maker
The relationship between rug-hooking and the handwork of women has been well established. For some contemporary artists, the medium’s strong historical associations are subverted to expressive effect. (EMILY URQUHART SPECIAL TO THE GLOBE AND MAIL PUBLISHED JANUARY 27, 2016…a review of an exhibition held at the Canadian Textile Museum in Toronto.) However, Johnston’s work expresses an affiliative and personal feminism which is shaped by her own history, and a ferociously independent turn of mind. She does not readily receive the wisdoms issuing from either end of the political spectrum, and continues to nurture ideas through wisdom of her own hands.
The Art of Mandy Johnston:
My work uses found printed paper sources such as; magazines, newspapers, books and marketing materials. I create paintings with layers of tiny paper fragments. Using only the printed text, I tear it away from its original meaning, and use each fragment as a mark or pixel, to describe an image.
By destroying, as much as possible, the original meaning of the words and letters, it feels like my tiny protest against the unsettling onslaught of visual and mental static that I experience in the drift of my everyday life. It is also symbolic of the pattern of nature and civilizations to fall to ruin and evolve again into order. My tiny triumph, is to sort my chaos of meaningless characters, into new patterns and meanings that are reverent and useful to me.
My current series celebrates a selection of individual and often monumental trees, which are revered by me, in Calgary, and by others, around the world. Trees are interchangeably in a process of living and dying and have much longer than lifespans than humans. They embody a resilience and triumph, over randomness and circumstance, despite being rooted insitu – unless humans cut them down first.