Figure 1: Back view, Cory's graduation postcard 1994

What were your dreams in founding the society?

When forming the Untitled Art Society I felt we were attempting to continue the shared experience of having studio space and like minded individuals together, just as we had at the art college. Having an exhibition area was essential. Having an office and a kitchen area was hoped for. We also wanted to have visiting artist space so artists from other parts of the country or world could work for a while, but space is costly and limited. A work shop area was talked about but fire/ventilation/safety issues of course. The big dream though was to continue what was started in the studios of art school.

Figure 2 Front view Untitled from graduation postcard 1994

Did you ever think it would last this long?

Considering how expensive downtown real-estate is, no I did not think it would last. This is the third space the Society has occupied and to relocate would be difficult. The people who help keep things going are really great.

If you were blowing out the sixteen candles on the society's birthday cake, what would you be wishing for?

I wish the entirety of the building was studios and artist space.

Where were you at as an artist when you made this work?

I was 23 years old, a college student.

What advice would you give artists just emerging from ACAD today?

To artists leaving ACAD: work hard, play harder. Stay out of debt. Do what feels good but always in moderation. You may leave art for times but art will never leave you.

Figure 3: The Bridge. 2010. Found image with excerpt from Black Spring by H.V. Miller, 35 x 25 inches (unframed)

What would you like viewers to know about your current work?

"One passes imperceptibly from one scene, one age, one life to another. Suddenly, walking down a street, be it real or be it a dream, one realizes for the first time that the years have flown, that all this has passed forever and will live on only in memory; and then the memory turns inward with a strange, clutching brilliance and one goes over these scenes and incidents perpetually, in dream and reverie, while walking a street, while lying with a woman, while reading a book, while talking to a stranger... suddenly, but always with a terrific insistence and always with a terrific accuracy, these memories intrude, rise up like ghosts and permeate every fibre of one's being. Henceforward everything moves on shifting levels—our thoughts, our dreams, our actions, our whole life. A parallelogram in which we drop from one platform of our scaffold to another. Henceforward we walk split into myriad fragments, like an insect with a hundred feet, a centipede with soft-stirring feet that drinks in the atmosphere; we walk with sensitive filaments that drink avidly of past and future, and all things melt into music and sorrow; we walk against a united world, asserting our dividedness. All things, as we walk, splitting with us into a myriad iridescent fragments. The great fragmentation of maturity. The great change. In youth we were whole and the terror and pain of the world penetrated us through and through. There was no sharp separation between joy and sorrow; they fused into one, as our waking life fuses with dream and sleep. We rose one being in the morning and at night we went down into an ocean, drowned out completely, clutching the stars and the fever of the day.

And then comes a time when suddenly all seems to be reversed. We live in the mind, in ideas, in fragments. We no longer drink in the wild outer music of the streets—we remember only."

This segment from Black Spring, by one of my favored authors, touches upon the passage of youth to maturity, a fitting subject I think in regards to this reunion of past collaborators. At some point in one's youth the wholeness of existence is split, "split into a myriad fragments," "The great fragmentation of maturity." And then "we live in the mind, in ideas, in fragments." "—we remember only"

It is true that in maturing we are cursed with the awareness of a separation of joy and sorrow, of the split of existing and reflection. But cursed self-awareness is really our only salvation. With our memories, our thoughts and ideas, our moving on shifting levels, we can seek a peaceful plateau to walk awhile, walk a while in the sweet sunlight of day towards the darkening edge of night, towards the night and sleep, towards sleep and dream.

My piece is a fusion of found words and a found image. Images and words are woven into the fabric of our daily lives. They are the fragments of our reality, our memories.

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