Stop and Flow
Written by Dillon Lobo
Nuit Blanche’s Zone C, Should I Stay or Should I Go, delved into the aspects of movement, gridlock and mobility in an urban setting; the everyday reality of the downtown core.
Kim Adam's Auto Lamp
As you make your way down Yonge Street, the first exhibit you encounter, Auto Lamp, is a white ’96 Dodge Ram van, a vehicle nobody would take a second glance at if they saw one cruising down the 401. But that’s not the case here. The artist, Kim Adams, turned it into something so awe-inspiring that it’s no longer just a car. After punching thousands of holes into an intricate design, it’s hardly a van anymore. All that’s left is the light from a lamp inside shining out of every aperture. This first project sets the theme for the entire zone; all the little spots of light represent the headlights of all the cars endlessly moving across the city.
Endgame (Coulrophobia) by Max Streicher was probably the cleverest of the projects in zone C. In the narrow alley between two buildings near the corner of Yonge and King Streets are three giant clown heads suspended in the air, unsupported by any ropes. What made this project stand out and strikingly cleverer than the rest of the projects was not that these massive faces were floating in the air. Rather, the location made it fascinating. In the structure of a city, alleyways are nothing but the leftover fragments of space in between one architect’s final product and another’s. The reality of these spaces, however, is that they are refuge areas for the outcasts of society—those sinister creatures lurking in the shadows, hidden from the rest of the world.
Max Streicher's End Game (Coulrophobia)
Through this perspective, the menacing alter ego of clowns materializes—the side that people with coulrophobia (fear of clowns) always see.
One of the few dance projects at Nuit Blanche was a continuous performance by 60 York University dance and theatre students. A simple concept, The Endless Pace was the transformation of an analog clock into a smooth, flowing dance routine. The hour, minute and second hands became the movements of the dancers, never stopping because time never stops. This was just one of the examples of art that is an ongoing process, needing to be in continuous motion for it to fulfill its purpose.
Another project in constant motion throughout the night was Julia Loktev’s I Cried for You. Loktev brought actors into a room one-by-one, filming them while they attempted to cry. Outside, spectators could watch two projections on the side of a building: one, a close-up of the actor’s face, and the other a wide-shot of the director filming the actor. The first person I saw trying to cry sat in the room for at least five minutes before giving up. A man in his 20s wanted to try it, so he volunteered to be next. He also sat there on the bed, concentrating on crying for at least five minutes, while his girlfriend watched from outside. This man actually succeeded; however, it was a mix of crying and laughing at the same time. The purpose of this project wasn’t just to show people crying, but to show to how an actor makes him/herself cry, knowing he/she is being filmed and watched by an audience.
The independent projects in zone C were all the projects west of Bay Street, in between King and Queen Streets. Most of them were a hit-or-miss on being interesting. Others were just plain weird.
A hit was Hair Matters at the Toronto School of Art. As you step inside the room, you are bombarded by an ocean of paper shreds and fabric resembling an immense hair-like creature. It’s as if all the hair on the floor of every beauty parlour in Toronto was assembled into one room. The Toronto School of Art definitely proved their point that hair is art and hairstyles are representations of the people who wear them.
Some of the projects at the Trinity Bellwoods Park were a clear miss. One was a “friendship ceremony,” which was apparently the “last of the night” when I got there. Four participants sat facing each other at a table, answering questions from a questionnaire. And when they were finished they were asked to step over a piece of wool to return to the “real world.” Another strange project consisted of two people huddling together on a small boat in the middle of the park, not making a single sound. One passerby described them as being “lost at sea in a sea of grass.”
My first time at Nuit Blanche both exceeded my expectations and was a disappointment at the same time. Most of the commissioned projects were impressive, but many of the independent ones were confusing. It showed that as long as artists are passionate about their work, it is art to them. The public response is subject to individual tastes. Hence, the works mentioned are the ones I found the most intriguing, whether they were good or bad.
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Click HERE to see Universal Perspectives’ pictures from the event
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