Art Articles & Reviews

} Anatomy of a Horse By William Moore Director, MacLaren Art Centre It was June 15th 1997 and Fathers Day. And it was a nice day for planting -- if you're a farmer or even a gardener. It was the kind of day you would think of spending some time outside, maybe at the cottage or in the park. But that was the day when well over 1,000 people came out to a 50 acre farm field, just 15 minutes from our gallery in Barrie. They came to help the MacLaren Art Centre and Canadian artist Joe Fafard plants soybeans. They brought their own soybeans, a small package of about ten we sent to all our members in the mail. Then, we had over 1,200 members, but we only expected perhaps 100, maybe 200 to come out. Even the 1,000 plus who came were dwarfed by the image of Joe's horse, plowed and planted in that field, October of the year before. From the air, they were imperceptible specks in a landscape dominated by what might be the world's largest drawing. It was clear that those who came were not only members; they crossed boundaries and drew from all sections of the community. What was also true was that they were drawn to this horse that was also art -- a horse that was understood, embraced, and supported by so many. They were there to plant the horse, to add another mark -- their own mark. From a drawing only the size of a letter, this magnificent horse was born; over a third of a mile from nose to tail, it grew as art for more than a year. The horse, in the middle of that June, was also in the middle of its life. That day, Joe Fafard’s horse had taken on a definite oriental texture. Like Jen Jen-Fas’ thirteenth century water colours painted on silk, Fafard’s horse stood serenely against its background of a silk-like earth. Dappled green against the sienna soil, the green was the winter wheat sown the fall of the year before. Before that planting, the field had been prepared and the first sketch was created in ten continuous miles of plowed drawing. The preparation, the planting, the fertilizing, the harvesting, and the return of the field to an empty tablet again, was to add another 100 or more miles. Yet to be seen in June was the canola, the corn, the alfalfa, and the soybeans. Each would change the drawing, asserting they’re own nature over the image daily - constantly. The canola would bring a lime-green that changed in July to an intense mustard-yellow. In August, after turning to a burnt sandy colour, the harvesting - as all harvesting would - add its rhythmic furrows to the texture and pattern of the drawing. Deep green turning to brown in the fall, the ordered planting of corn added a solid background to the horse. The alfalfa and soybeans each offered a differing, ever-changing fabric, pushing Joe's horse forward and then allowing it to recede and join again with the landscape. In early spring the hesitant green of the wheat had appeared from the carefully plowed and planted horse, only to be thwarted by the elements of snow, rain, and flooding. But the process of growth and change continued. These intercessions of natural events and growth, harvesting and tilling, were documented week by week through aerial photography, from which a flip - book was created. The small book recorded the technology of farming, and the ephemeral and sometimes violent dictates of nature embodied within an image. Joe Fafard’s stoic and determined horse animated a process. It was a continuum that crossed the boundaries of art and farming, of image and process, and of artist and creator, and presented itself as an ecology, begging the question: Who made Joe's horse? Joe's horse began in a concept that was to evolve into a commitment. The concept came in part well before the thoughts of the horse. Necessity may well be the mother of invention. The MacLaren has been planning toward a new facility for over five years. We are now completing the new $5M MacLaren Art Centre, but we have for almost ten years, worked from a wonderful century house on a large treed lot and a second gallery space at Georgian College. Physical limitations required an evolution of methods of programming. With curatorial staff skilled at presentation and animation, the city and even the surrounding countryside logically became an extension of the gallery. Gardens, parks and yards became locations for education programs and exhibitions, and the concept of the gallery without walls was born. Of necessity yes, but as a purposeful concept, it was to stick. Off the Wall was the name we used. But it was more of an attitude. The concept was that art could, would and can appear anywhere, including the gallery. Art exhibitions, mostly installation works, were programmed in non-traditional locations in the same way they were in the gallery. The same program considerations were then made, curators and artists were paid fees, there were artist's talks and sponsorships were sought. The approach brought attention back to the gallery and its exhibitions. Off the Wall touched a nerve -- gently. The fear of art syndrome was challenged. A comfort zone was created for direct response to visual art without the imposition of the context of the gallery. Understanding this was important. Our audience, including sponsors, became much more comfortable with art. The veteran gallery goers were as happy and as challenged as those new to art. Through this project we learned an enormous amount about how galleries are perceived and how we can become more successfully integrated into our community. Click any thumbnail to go to the fourth image gallery The evolution to the horse began in exhibitions in restaurants, in unused apartments, in offices, in public buildings or just about anywhere we could challenge the context of art. Links, vital links were created that encouraged the connecting of disparate parts of the community in an effort to create. Conceptual links were also created. In the process of involving differing parts of the community in a task to present an exhibition, an understanding and a tactile grasp of the creative process was fostered and furthered. John McEwen’s giant installation at a car dealership, Marlene Moore's MacLaren Site Beast, the placement of 30 artist's installations in downtown businesses, Peter von Tiesenhausen’s boat form floating in a treed setting, and many more, de-institutionalized the visitor dialogue with the art works. Art could happen anywhere. The natural order that made Joe's horse evolved from this. MacLaren - Against the Grain -- the Fafard Field Project was the title, but we tended to call it Joe's Horse, or just, The Horse. The ‘we’ were a lot of people, hundreds. ‘Against the Grain’, even with some misunderstanding (no we were not against grain) was simply suggesting we were thinking differently, that we wished to bring another perspective to the ‘growing’ process and have it touch the ‘creative’. The late winter of 1995 marked the beginning of the idea. The 1997 International Plowing Match (IPM) was to be held in Barrie. We looked at it as an opportunity, but what kind? The plowing match, in truth, celebrates a kind of artistry and precision of purpose within the technology of farming -- a furrow turned perfectly, a line with no deviation, a perfect field. Our thought was a field drawing. But who? That didn't take long, the artist was immediate -- Joe Fafard. Joe Fafard’s images of animals are central to his work. Within them is a sensativity to the beasts as well as an implicit and forceful understanding of their purpose. Their purpose begins in the land and may well end in the supermarket, but in Fafard’s work, the unspoken expression of their place within this process, is embodied in the pure strength and character of these creatures. Yes, for this Joe Fafard was the right artist. The idea began to take shape. A well-defined image would be planted in various crops suitable for aerial and elevated viewing at or near the International Plowing Match site. The problem was that Joe Fafard, although he had some farming in his background, was no expert at farming, nor were any of us at the gallery. We turned to an expert, Roy Hickling. Roy Hickling was a local farmer, in fact, his family had farmed for generations in the region. He was a seed specialist and deeply understood farming processes and the local environment. Roy knew his stuff, but he also had a deep and abiding interest in art. He did not have the credentials of a curator, what he had was the ability to take the artist's image, the artist's work, and bring it to a purposeful connection with the viewer. Essentially, what a good curator should do. Roy could also give more. He made the presentation to the 1997 IPM Committee, mostly farmers, and got them to agree to incorporate MacLaren Against the Grain: The Fafard Field Project into their event. In this, a completely wonderful cooperative effort was born. Its connections linked farmer and artist, cultural and farming institutions, and the City of Barrie with its rural community. Then began a collaboration, that was a part of many collaborations of many people. Joe and Roy set to work. Joe Fafard had one major stipulation, before he would agreed to the project, "No potential food would be wasted". The harvesting of this project became as important as the parties and sponsors involved and the people who would enjoy viewing it. The Canadian Foodgrains Bank agreed to receive the crop harvested from the field and in turn donate the proceeds to third world countries in need of food. With four to one matching funds donated by the Canadian International Development Agency, we gifted over $75,000 to international food aid. Joe began drawing and exchanging his efforts with Roy Hickling. Roy, acting in a way like a master printer, would in turn suggest what was possible. In that collaboration the horse was born, poignant and forceful of purpose. The image, Joe commented, seemed to come from within, seemed right, and being a draught horse, completed the conceptual link. When Joe finally got to fly over it at 2,000 feet, he said it was very much like the horse he had drawn on the blackboard when he was in grade three. The horse, its size and complexity was a major undertaking. A broad community involvement approach, consistent with our other projects, was adopted. Volunteer teams working together to undertake the needed tasks were as varied as farmers doing the field work, or the dozens of Barrie Georgian College students surveying the image onto the field. This project also created some wonderful logistical challenges. Taking Joe Fafard’s image from letter sized drawing to a 50acre field was no simple feat. It involved not only a surveying and layout puzzle, but a major agricultural one as well. The design featured winter wheat, corn, canola, soybeans and alfalfa all with their own seed bed, timing, fertility, fertilizing, herbicides, planting and harvesting requirements. It was a remarkable community art project. It involved hundreds of volunteers. Including the donated materials, the horse cost more than $250,000 and was completely supported by direct and in-kind donations. Over 50 companies participated as partners. During the 1997 International Plowing Match, visitors were able to view the image from a Ferris Wheel as well as from hot air balloons. And during the year it grew it always had visitors. The strange thing is that most people who visited the horse then couldn't see it. At least not the way it was seen in the newspaper, or in magazines, or on television, that is from about 2,000 feet up. When they visited the site the horse was visible from a small, very small hill. That view of the horse was raked and stretched into the distance. But they did come, and walked it, many visiting again and again - 30,000 or so - before the Plowing Match. So why? They came to visit the horse, in part I think because they could connect. They could connect because Joe Fafard’s horse could speak in so many ways, in so many languages, allowing personal connections and personal associations, allowing them to be a part of it, to participate in it. An addendum: The Horse was plowed back into the field in late fall of 1997, after the corn was taken off. The horse was erased. Corn was again planted in that same 50acre field in 1998. It was harvested in the fall and a pilot called the MacLaren to tell us that you could plainly see the ghost of the horse, a horse plowed under the year before. You just can't keep a great idea down. Links to Related Articles Forward to:Anatomy of a Horse - Interview Back to: World's Largest Drawing Seen from Space