Art Talk With Collector Ben Woolfitt

by Roy Bernardi and Jennifer Leskiw

“I don’t look at my collection as much as I should but, I know it’s around me all of the time.”  Timeless words spoken by Canadian artist and art collector Ben Woolfitt. He started collecting early in life, slowly, and most of the time without having a lot of money. There were times when Ben didn’t have enough money to pay rent. Yet, he couldn’t imagine having a life without art.  

Ben Woolfitt sitting next to his bed with (from top down) Adolf Gottlieb, Hans Hofmann, Robert Motherwell, (to the right) Milton Avery and Ray Mead
Ben Woolfitt sitting next to his bed with (from top down) Adolf Gottlieb, Hans Hofmann, Robert Motherwell, (to the right) Milton Avery and Ray Mead

No truer words have been spoken. His fabulous loft proudly displays his own works of art, paintings and drawings, amidst a carefully curated collection of internationally well-known artists. The Toronto loft showcases numerous paintings, drawings, and watercolours by such notable artists as Jack Bush, Jules Olitski, Milton Avery, Larry Poons, Hans Hoffman, Adolph Gottlieb, William Ronald, John Meredith, Ken Noland, Ron Davis, Ellsworth Kelly and William Kurelek, to name a few.  

Ben Woolfitt in front of Larry Poons Untitled #2, 1972 acrylic on canvas
Ben Woolfitt in front of Larry Poons Untitled #2, 1972 acrylic on canvas

File drawers contain gems of drawings including 3 Helen Frankenthaler’s and collectible artists’ books such as rare signed editions by Antoni Tapies. His New York Manhattan apartment showcases the same sensibility boasting a beautiful Milton Avery oil. 

Ben points to a massive Jack Bush on his wall behind his sofa which he considers to be a major piece of Canadian art.  “He’s unbelievable and he’s respected internationally”  Ben says. I remember going to New York in 2010 to see the Jack Bush at Christies.  In the photographic reproduction of the painting, Christies had trimmed off all the rough parts along the edges, so it looked very tight, and the image itself was very dark. I purchased the Bush, which is probably now worth significantly more than the original purchase price.

Ben Woolfitt standing in front of Jack Bush Bluegold, 1973 acrylic on canvas
Ben Woolfitt standing in front of Jack Bush Bluegold, 1973 acrylic on canvas

Which do you prefer, the search or the acquisition?  

They go hand in hand. The search is fine. I saw a Hoffman that I really wanted to buy, and I went down to the auction. I sat with my friend Ken Carpenter and the auction house brought the piece out for inspection. I just about passed out because Ken was totally convinced that the piece wasn’t good.  He said you don’t want to go for this one. It was a mash up of colours and the colour was off. So, I sat through the auction. The Hoffman went way over the estimates. I didn’t have the money to purchase it as it exceeded my limit at the time. When you buy a piece of art by any artist, you generally buy more than one or several works by the same artist if possible.  

If you had to pick one piece out of your collection, what piece would be the one piece that totally steals your heart?  

That’s difficult. I have a Hans Hoffman that is just amazing. I love Jules Olitski. I bought two of them. I have a beautiful little Milton Avery in New York. I have a Tim Whitten. It’s a real beauty. Collecting is an interesting thing. Some people say that collecting art is a sickness. I’ll tell you what I think collecting is. You buy what you can afford but you know, it’s like anything else in life. You go along and you buy a drawing by an artist and if it holds your interest, then you buy more by the same artist, and it all kind of comes together to form a collection. 

What was one of the first pieces that you bought?  

Ellsworth Kelly. It’s a print. I paid a $100 for it. I took it home on the streetcar. It was spring of 1968 I believe. I sketched it and that’s when I realized the drawing was very complex. After I sketched it, I called David Mirvish and in that conversation I told him that I had made a  decision to become a painter.

File drawers containing drawings, works on paper and collectible artists’ books. Art work (From left to right) two small William Ronalds and one large William Ronald, John Meredith, Otto Rogers and William Kurelek
File drawers containing drawings, works on paper and collectible artists’ books. Art work (From left to right) two small William Ronalds and one large William Ronald, John Meredith, Otto Rogers and William Kureleks

Is there an artist’s work that you don’t own but would wish to buy to add to your collection?  

Well of course I would be going back to the masters, Rogier Van Der Weyden and Alberto Giacometti. I’ve always had a thing for Giacometti. My early drawings were all “Giacomettiish. I remember being at the National Gallery in London, England. I remember the room I wanted to enter in order to see the Van Der Weydens and all of that kind of work. It reminds me of a similar story where Grant Goodbrand, a longtime close friend of 50 years goes into a museum, and enters the room where he wants to see something in particular.  He stays there till lunch, leaves and then comes back after lunch. The next morning, he comes back and does the same thing. On the third morning when Grant arrives, the guard in that room says: “You know, we do have other  paintings”. Grant knew he might never have an opportunity to go back to that museum but, he wanted to know the work. When I focus on a particular work, that work has to be imprinted in my mind. For me, regardless of the many museums I have visited, I can actually walk back into a particular room in my head, and I can see that one piece. 

How did you enter the world of abstraction?

I started to find out about abstraction through artists like Cy Twombly and Barnett Newman. I met Barnett at an opening in New York when I would have been around 21 years of age. We kept circling around one another and I finally approached him and said: “I love your work”. I couldn’t have said any more than that. At the time I didn’t realize how important and how rare that moment was. 

Ben Woolfitt in his loft with Ron Davis, Cuffs, 1969 Diptych polyester resin and fibreglass.
Ben Woolfitt in his loft with Ron Davis, Cuffs, 1969 diptych polyester resin and fibreglass

I also love Jasper Johns. I wish I had bought Johns at a reasonable price, but that time is over. I’ve known many Canadian artists. I knew most of the Painters Eleven. They were always coming through my arts supply store (Ben owned Woolfitt’s Art Supplies on Queen Street West in downtown Toronto) and we were doing business. I’ve also met Alex Colville and Christopher Pratt.

I used to sell paper and I knew more about fine art paper than anyone else. I knew all the machines and I’ve been to every factory. I imported 120,000 pounds of fine art paper and rag board a year. When visiting buyers and in particular, if they needed a particular width of paper, I could tell them the factory that supplied this. I could tell you what kind of water they use, how pure it is. The National Gallery of Canada, the AGO, and every museum in Canada bought from us. We were designated for this and we shipped everywhere.

One of the things I notice looking around your space is that you don’t really have any figurative works.  

“I do actually – just not hung”.  I do have the William Kurelek up but, that’s almost an abstraction too because the bulk of the piece is sky. When I look at a painting and it has a figure in it, I don’t care about the figure. It’s irrelevant to me. I just want to know how it works so, to me, looking at an Edgar Degas or a Jackson Pollock, it’s all the same. Really. It’s just a matter of whether it works or not and how people use the space within the canvas. If someone has any base knowledge of art they would know who the artist is just by looking at the image. 

Ben Woolfitt in his bedroom with two works by William Ronald (top) Dolly, 1980 oil on canvas and (bottom) The Moon and You, 1980 oil on canvas
Ben Woolfitt in his bedroom with two works by William Ronald (top) Dolly, 1980 oil on canvas and (bottom) The Moon and You, 1980 oil on canvas

Do you have any interesting art stories about some of the artists you have met?

William (Bill) Ronald owed money for rent and supplies. I did a deal for him as a courtesy. There was a collector who was always going on about “I’m going to buy this and I’m going to buy that”. He was very wealthy. So, I said you should buy some of Bill’s work in an effort to help Bill out and also receive money Bill owed me. I remember helping Bill put something like 25 paintings around the room, all canvases. The collector walked in with a babe on his arm. Bill probably  bumped up the prices on the works but, Bill was on his best behaviour.  The collector walks around the room looking from one painting to another. “So honey what do you think?  They’re nice huh?  Should I buy them all?”  OMG this is sick. Anyway, the collector buys everything and says: “You know Bill, if I change my mind on some of the pieces I don’t like, I’ll be able to return them.“ Bill replied: “Yeah yeah of course. I‘ll write it out.”  Bill was always in need of money.  Anyway, the collector came back about six weeks later, and he says he wants to see Bill because he wants to return a couple of paintings. Bill is sitting in his studio as the collector walks towards him telling him he wants to return a few paintings. The atmosphere wasn’t great.  At this moment, Bill lurches out of his chair and says: “You know I used to be a boxer. I’m going to knock your f***ing head off your shoulders”. End of deal. End of story.

Rae Johnson: Forgotten Soul

by Roy Bernardi and Jennifer Leskiw

Recently, we went to see the exhibition of Rae Johnson’s work at the Christopher Cutts Gallery on Morrow Avenue in downtown Toronto. Several large-scale landscape paintings were shown among smaller more intimate landscapes. Johnson, born in Winnipeg, Manitoba, studied at the New School of Art in Toronto from 1975 to 1976 and continued her education at the Ontario College of Art from 1977 to 1980. As a distinguished female Canadian artist, she lived and created art in Toronto during the 1980s before relocating to Flesherton, Ontario, in 1987. She stated that Robert Markle, one of her educators, was her most significant influence. She passed away in 2020. The opening event was attended by Rae Johnson’s children, Adrian, Joslyn and June.

Rae Johnson, Sunset, Lake Winnipeg, 1988, oil on wood, 244 x 366 cm
Rae Johnson, Sunset, Lake Winnipeg, 1988, oil on wood, 244 x 366 cm

Her artistic expression captures the diverse experiences of life in her immediate surroundings. Her artwork ranges from representations of demons and ethereal beings in the snow, to angelic figures, scenes of indulgence, intimate moments in bathtubs, depictions of societal outcasts, inebriated individuals, saintly figures, and verdant landscapes reminiscent of the Garden of Eden. Her creations explore the intersection of the sacred and the profane. She often portrayed her studio or living space, utilizing friends and her children as subjects.

Joslyn Rogers in front of Rae Johnson's oil painting Janet's Living Room 1998, Acrylic on canvas.
Joslyn Rogers in front of Rae Johnson’s oil painting Janet’s Living Room, 1998, oil on wood.

We sat down with her daughter Joslyn Rogers who works in the entertainment industry as an Actor/Writer/Director for a candid interview.

What was life like as the child of an artist?

I was raised in a creative environment.  I had the privilege of being the child of two talented individuals.  My mother Rae Johnson was a gifted visual artist. My father, Clarke Rogers, was the artistic director from 1982-1987 of Theatre Passe Muraille, a Canadian alternative theatre company that champions independent and experimental performances.  

I remember playing in my mother’s various studios. She would be painting into the night, listening to Nirvana or Jimi Hendrix, and I would be finger painting beside her. I remember falling asleep to the clickety-clack of my father’s typewriter, and playing backstage at his rehearsals. When I was a baby we were in-between apartments so we slept on the set of ‘Jessica’, a play by Linda Griffiths and Maria Campbell. My father was directing the play and my mother painted the poster for it. 

Rae Johnson, Night Games at Paradise, 1984, Oil on canvas, 213.4 x 335.3 cm
Rae Johnson, Night Games at Paradise, 1984, oil on canvas, 213.4 x 335.3 cm

We moved out of Toronto in the late 1980s and bought a country property in Flesherton, Ontario. We had acres of forest around us and a pond which became the muse for mother’s paintings over the next decade. Flesherton was an artist community so most of my friends were children of artists, like the daughters of painter Harold Klunder and sculptor performance artist Catherine Carmichael. Regardless of where we lived, our living rooms always transformed into my mother’s creative workspace. We frequently attended art shows alongside her eclectic circle of friends, including her close companions and fellow artists Tom Dean, Sybil Goldstein and Lorne Wagman. 

My sister, brother, and I were often left to our own devices, and would play from morning until night out in the sprawling woods surrounding our house. We became very attuned to nature, to the spirits of the forest, and were given the freedom to explore the imaginary worlds we would create in play.

Rae Johnson, Unknown Title (Rae's bedroom and studio in Flesherton), 1995, Oil on wood panel, 121.9 x 182.9 cm
Rae Johnson, Unknown Title (Rae’s bedroom and studio in Flesherton), 1995, oil on wood panel, 121.9 x 182.9 cm

After the death of my father, my family moved back to Toronto. It’s only now as an adult that I can truly appreciate the clan I grew up with and belong to, and that when I declared to my mother as a little girl that I wanted to be an actress, I was met with encouragement and not “get a real job”.

My mother, Rae, was an integral part of the Toronto arts community during the late 1970s and early 1980s. During this time, a collective emerged, ChromaZone, a vibrant creative group dedicated to reintroducing figurative painting to Toronto, featuring notable figures such as Brian Burnett, Oliver Girling, Andy Fabo, Sybil Goldstein and Tony Wilson. My mother was also an associate professor at OCADU. It’s stunning how influential she was.  

Tell us what you know about your mother’s relationship with Brian Burnett? 

Brian and my mother met at The New School of Art in Toronto as students. They quickly fell in love and had my brother Adrian. My mother told me about being poor students with a babe in arms, living in artist warehouses, and the “art wars” between them – spending nights trying to out-paint one another. Tom Dean remembers visiting Rae and Brian at their illegal apartment on Niagara street, which they had converted mostly into their studio with floor to ceiling paintings and a giant mound of dirty baby diapers in the centre of it all. Brian and Rae were budding artists together. They played in experimental art bands, one called Niagara, and another called DogSound, with other local Queen West visual artists like Micheal Merrill, Alan Glicksman, Lorne Wagman, and Derek Caines. They were ambitious, hot young art stars, and found their artistic voices together. They had the best art dealers in town: Brian was with Av Issacs, and Rae with Carmen Lamanna. I can see how they influenced each other in their respective paintings which share surrealist, dream-like qualities. Sometimes I can even see representations of each other in their work.

Rae Johnson, Winter Angel, 2018, Oil and graphite on canvas, 139.7 x 129.5 cm
Rae Johnson, Winter Angel, 2018, oil and graphite on canvas, 139.7 x 129.5 cm

They broke up in the mid 80s after nearly a decade together. It was devastating to my mother, who nearly had a mental breakdown but, that led to some of her most powerful paintings which now belong to permanent collections throughout Canada.

What do you recall about Rae’s art work?

When I think of my mother’s work, I recall my own life. When we were living in Florence, she was working on a series titled “Bambino Miracolo”, which was exhibited at the Canadian Cultural Centre in Rome, Italy. They were large scale oil paintings inspired by the horrific images coming out of the Bosnian war at the time. Embedded in the painted scenes were dying babies attached to intrusive medical devices and renaissance angels guarding over top. 

My life has been chronicled through my mother’s paintings. She painted our property in Flesherton, every season, every time of day. She painted portraits of her friends, every studio she inhabited, the storms and sunsets over Lake Winnipeg where our family cottage was, and she painted us, her children. I appear in her paintings at every stage of my life: as a baby, a young girl, and even as an adult. One of the most inspiring qualities about my mother was that she always painted. My father committed suicide by hanging in our Flesherton forest in 1996. From that came a body of work she called “The Black and White Series” and “The Premonition Drawings”. Like the titles suggest, they are black and white, often interiors of her bedroom with ghostly figures lurking in the shadows.

Did Rae favour figurative work over landscape painting?

My mother didn’t start painting landscapes until the late 1980’s after moving to Flesherton. She said she began in secret, afraid the new subject matter would be perceived as an affront to her well established style of “urban nightmares.” To her, this transition to painting nature was her most daring work. She also proclaimed that painting the sunsets over our Flesherton Pond was where she learned how to paint light. My mother’s paintings have a narrative spirit, and she would alternate between figurative and landscape for the rest of her life, each reflecting her inner soul. 

Rae Johnson, The Opponent 1982, Acrylic on Canvas, 167.6 x 203.2 cm
Rae Johnson, The Opponent, 1982, acrylic on canvas, 167.6 x 203.2 cm

I believe that good artists are visionaries, often unacknowledged or misunderstood in their own time. After taking on her artistic estate, I have been working alongside the new generation of curators and artists. They seem to understand and appreciate my mother’s work and that of her contemporaries. My mother was ahead of her time, waiting to be rediscovered. 

Three Short Takes on Exhibitions in New York

by John Mendelsohn

Jen Mazza: Vicissitudes of Nature
January 10-February 22, 2025
Ulterior Gallery, New York
www.ulteriorgallery.com

Christopher Hart Chambers: Passages
January 23-March 11, 2025
Crossing Art, New York
www.crossingart.com

Louisa Waber: The World Inside This One
January 21- March 7, 2025
TenBerke Architects
events@tenberke.com

In her exhibition, Jen Mazza has assembled a kind of rebus made of quotations, both visual and literary. “Rebus” implies that from the images and words – variously painted, written, and sculpted – something will be spelled out. Maybe the desire to make sense is the red herring in this mystery, but nonetheless clues abound.

The original sources for the works are all from the past, starting in the Renaissance, on up to the early 20th century. This range of time periods lends an archival, antiquarian air to the exhibition. But rather than creating a cabinet of curiosities, Mazza’s poetic conceptualism works like poetry itself, placing one image adjacent to the next, and allowing their energetic conjunction to conjure something new in our consciousness.

Jen Mazza, Portent 1, 2024, oil on canvas, 67 x 87 x 2 in. (170.2 x 221 x 5.1 cm) 
Photo by Jason Mandella, Courtesy of Ulterior Gallery and Jen Mazza (c)Jen Mazza 
Jen MazzaPortent 1, 2024, oil on canvas, 67 x 87 x 2 in. (170.2 x 221 x 5.1 cm) 
Photo by Jason Mandella, Courtesy of Ulterior Gallery and Jen Mazza (c)Jen Mazza 

In a 2021 interview, Mazza said that, “After all, anytime that we engage an historical work, we are engaging with the past as if it pertains to us.” So, we as viewers must be alert to how these couriers from an earlier time might actually be speaking to us about our relationship to the natural world, history, and most importantly to change as an existential constant.

The exhibition’s title, Vicissitudes of Nature, points to life’s unpredictable contingencies. This sense is embodied in the artist’s rendering of Ruskin’s diary script, his words describing the weather, including “Terrific Thunder”, “brighter”, “beauty”, and “Worse and worse”.

Water and its evocative possibilities are a recurring presence throughout the exhibition – in an expanse of sea, in diagrams of nautical navigation, in the name of a ship, and in passages from Virginia Woolf’s novel The Waves.

This feeling of watery, shifting fortunes is embodied in the exhibition’s largest work, Portent 1, a painted excerpt of Titian’s The Submersion of Pharaoh’s Army in the Red Sea, a 12-block woodcut. In Mazza’s version the Israelites and the Egyptians have both been effaced, with only the rippling waves remaining visible.

Jen Mazza, Terpsichore (1760), 2022, oil on canvas, 40 x 60 in. (101.6 x 152.4 cm) 
Photo by Jason Mandella, Courtesy of Ulterior Gallery and Jen Mazza (c)Jen Mazza
Jen MazzaTerpsichore (1760), 2022, oil on canvas, 40 x 60 in. (101.6 x 152.4 cm) 
Photo by Jason Mandella, Courtesy of Ulterior Gallery and Jen Mazza (c)Jen Mazza

The sailing ship HMS Terpsichore delivered from Southern Africa the first zebra publicly displayed in Great Britain, the sole survivor of a pair that had been transported. In Terpsichore (1760) Mazza faithfully reproduces George Stubbs’s painting of the animal, while in Terpsichore (1847), the painting’s subject is a white silhouette – both are reminders of the empire’s colonial exploitation.

Christopher Hart Chambers paints paradise in the form of flowers, leaves, and branches, densely layered in atmospheric space. He evokes a world in bold motifs, distillations of growing things blooming and intertwining.

This world of organic energy is both observed from real life, and echoes how in many cultures nature becomes art, bringing the life of plants into human discourse as a charged spiritual, aesthetic, or decorative presence. In Chambers’s work we sense as a model flowers and branches depicted in the art of China and Japan. Equally apparent is the lineage of modern painting, ranging from Matisse to Alex Katz, that seeks to create simplified abstractions of nature’s complexity. In Chambers’s hands, the patterns of nature take on logo-like silhouettes, perhaps a distant recollection of this painter’s early days in the Street Art movement in New York.

Christopher Hart Chambers, Fertile Circus, 2024, oil on canvas, 60 x 72 in., Photo credit: Shayomi Srivastava
Christopher Hart ChambersFertile Circus, 2024, oil on canvas, 60 x 72 in., Photo credit: Shayomi Srivastava

One striking work is Fertile Circus, a fugue of overlapping rhythms, formed by glowing depths of yellow light, that alternate with vertical passages of olive green and aqua. Overlaying this background are black tree trunks sprouting semi-transparent scarlet flowers. Wafting in front of the trees are wavering bands of turquoise and lavender. Closest to us are vertical sine curves in a soft green, and a large central stem with leaves that seems to create a negative space for us to enter.

Christopher Hart Chambers, Chocolate Forest, 2024, oil on canvas, 60 x 72 in., Photo credit: Shayomi Srivastava
Christopher Hart ChambersChocolate Forest, 2024, oil on canvas, 60 x 72 in., Photo credit: Shayomi Srivastava

In the painting Chocolate Forest, black, spear-like leaves ominously dominate the soft-focus space beyond, over which play a sign of hope – twisting stems and small, red flowers.

The artist’s touch is ever-present in these works, in the delicate mists of colored space, and in the impasto, scumbling, and glazes of oil paint. These painterly techniques work in contrast to the flat, solidly colored trees and tendrils.

Color is the prime vehicle for feeling in these works. It exists on a spectrum from jewel-like tones, to color tamed with the admixture of white, to black that serves as a stark counterpoint.

Taken together, the elements of Chambers’s paintings coalesce into an enchanted vision, a psychedelic realm that encompasses dualities – the nuanced and the graphic, the buoyant and the haunted.

The World Inside This One, written across one of Louisa Waber’s pieces from 2023, serves as the title of this exhibition. These words might be guide to entering into the many small works on paper and the paintings shown here. Through drawing, watercolor, and acrylic, Waber evokes a psychic realm to which the visual is an opened portal.

Louisa Waber, Untitled, 2024, watercolor on Arches archival watercolor paper, 10 x 7" (plus frame) Photo by Louisa Waber
Louisa Waber, Untitled, 2024, watercolor on Arches archival watercolor paper, 10 x 7″ (plus frame) Photo by Louisa Waber

This portal takes many forms, but certain commonalities emerge. A small sheet of paper’s surface flooded with a wash of color, as a spidery structure floats across it. A bold form emerging from a dark atmosphere, along with a tracery of lines. A quilt-like grid holding a grid of color and emptiness. Vivid brushstrokes supporting a bramble of angled lines.

These are just a few of the recurring motifs, but together they constitute an ongoing, seemingly diaristic series of documents that record states of feeling. Like visual seismographs, they are sensitive to the fluctuations of mediums under the artist’s touch. They variously convey a sense anguish, searching, release, and fierce energy, along with a desire to construct a matrix to hold all the emotions that have been awakened. It seems that above all there is an insistence on the artist’s voice to speak, whether emphatically or quietly, without censorship.

Louisa Waber, How Do You Know?, 2024, acrylic, marker, and ink on canvas, 20 x 16" Photo by Louisa Waber
Louisa Waber, How Do You Know?, 2024, acrylic, marker, and ink on canvas, 20 x 16″ Photo by Louisa Waber

A prime example is the painting How Do You Know? from 2024, with its spare, cobalt blue brushstroke that curves back on itself, like the vestige of a whirlwind. On top of it are drawn blood-red lines, a jury-rigged, high-wire act above the maelstrom.

This work is part of a heritage that has many strands. There is the history of Expressionism, in its many forms, with its faith in painterly physicality. The example of Paul Klee is a recurring one, with his intimate evocations of the dream-world that is just beyond the everyday. And there are other precedents, like Louise Fishman, who especially in her early work combined outspoken feminism and abstraction.

In the end, what makes these paintings and drawings original is how this particular artist grants us access, through a kind of direct transmission, to the drenched landscape of her inner world.

The Impact of John Scott in Canadian Art

by Roy Bernardi

John Scott, 2021, being interviewed at the Weekly on the Arts program
John Scott, 2021, being interviewed at the Weekly on the Arts program

John Scott was born in Windsor, Ontario, Canada, in 1950 and died at the age of 72 in 2022. He was raised in the Cold War era that concerned itself with the imminent threat of nuclear conflict.

A Canadian multimedia artist, Scott, was known for his drawings, paintings and sculpture/installations. His artistic creations have drawn comparisons to those of American artist Jean-Michel Basquiat (1960-1988), who similarly explored themes of mortality, destruction, and the disparity between wealth and poverty. In the wake of Basquiat’s passing and his rise to fame, Scott has been dubbed the “Basquiat of Canada.” It is important to note that Scott, being ten years Basquiat’s senior, had already established his artistic identity well before Basquiat’s initial creations.

Renowned for his compulsive mark-making and ironic wit, Scott was a visionary in the art world. He was a long-standing professor in the Faculty of Art at OCAD University, challenging and inspiring his students to develop their individual creative styles and express their innermost thoughts and emotions through their art. Scott was an influential artist within the Toronto art community from the early 1980 until his death through his iconic, political and accessible work. 

John Scott, “No Freedom” 1995 mixed media on paper mounted to foam-core, 58 x 73 1/2 inches
John Scott, No Freedom, 1995, mixed media on paper mounted to foam-core, 58 x 73 1/2 inches

Scott’s paintings and sculptures addressed themes of war, industrialization, authority, social class, and fear. For example, he portrayed fighter planes hovering over a blackened earth, cities detached and cast adrift in space, and strange genetic modifications of life. He depicted scenes of political devastation through representations of “twisters” with evil faces, drones, endless tanks whose purpose is surveillance. His many humanlike figures have large bunny-like ears which portray their vulnerability and sensitivity to larger forces.

John Scott, Left; Regina (Queen), 2007/2021, Mixed media on paper mounted on canvas 50 x 38 inches. Right; One Shot World, 2007/2021,Mixed media on paper mounted on canvas 50 x 38 inches
John Scott, Left; Regina (Queen), 2007/2021, Mixed media on paper mounted on canvas 50 x 38 inches. Right; One Shot World, 2007/2021,Mixed media on paper mounted on canvas 50 x 38 inches

Scott lived in a large messy studio in the urban core. He regarded people that he encountered with kindness and generosity, whether they were homeless or affluent, students or scholars. He lived out his belief that art should be accessible by gifting everyone who came into his space with a personalized drawing, and his artwork is ubiquitous in the homes of the many people who knew him. His work was also accessible in another way: while the subject matter may be complex, and the readings layered, regardless of their knowledge of art, the audience easily “got” his work. Nowhere is this accessibility better evidenced than in his work, owned by the National Gallery of Canada, titled “Apocalypse Trans-Am.” This installation of a 1981 Trans-Am car covered in black paint with the Book of Revelations scratched into the surface was lauded as one of the most popular works in the gallery’s collection.

John Scott, Trans Am Apocaylpse” 2016, mixed media on paper 32 x 50 inches
John Scott, Trans Am Apocaylpse, 2016, mixed media on paper 32 x 50 inches

Historically, Scott successfully positioned himself as a prominent artist within the art community, as evidenced by his inclusion in art history texts, museum retrospectives, and various collections and exhibitions. He became the first recipient of the Governor General’s Award in Visual and Media Arts in 2000. 

Scott’s oeuvre is characterized by a range of pivotal themes, such as “100 Workers, Carnivore, Teddy-Bear, The Bunny-man, The Dark Commander, Trans-am Apocalypse, Jet Fighters, Watch Towers, Tanks, and culminating in the “Night Sky” imagery, which he produced subconsciously, aware that his time was drawing to a close.

John Scott, Left; Dark Commander - Nelson’s Democracy, 2012, Mixed media on paper mounted on canvas 50 x 38 inches. Right; Snake Watch Tower, 2020, Mixed media on paper mounted on canvas 50 x 38 inches
John Scott, Left; Dark Commander – Nelson’s Democracy, 2012, Mixed media on paper mounted on canvas 50 x 38 inches. Right; Snake Watch Tower, 2020, Mixed media on paper mounted on canvas 50 x 38 inches

“Fallen Angel, “words written on paper by Scott featured in the McMichael Canadian Art Collection’s exhibition Fire Storm, serves as a profound reflection of John Scott’s personal interpretation of his existence within the world. This exhibition presents a diverse array of his works, spanning from his early career to 2015. Among the highlights are a small plastic maquette for “Trans-Am Apocalypse,” created in 1987, which includes incised text, and “The Conqueror Worm,” a sculpture from 1997 constructed from sheet metal, rubber tires, electronic components, paint, and a metal frame. Currently Scott’s work can be viewed at the McMichael Canadian Art Collection; John Scott: Fire Storm exhibition from December 7, 2024 to May 11, 2025.

John Scott, Left; Rebel Without a Cause (James Dean), 2000, Charcoal and oil stick on paper 38 x 25 inches. Right; The Transparent Burden, mixed media on paper 50 x 38 inches
John Scott, left; Rebel Without a Cause (James Dean), 2000, Charcoal and oil stick on paper 38 x 25 inches. Right; The Transparent Burden, mixed media on paper 50 x 38 inches

John Scott works are in the collection of the Museum of Modern Art in New York City as well as every major museum throughout Canada from the National Gallery of Canada in Ottawa, The Art Gallery of Ontario in Toronto, The Kitchener-Waterloo Art Gallery, to the Vancouver Art Gallery in British Columbia.

John Scott, Night Sky, 2022, mixed media on paper mounted to canvas 38 x 50 inches (one of the last works to be created by John Scott)
John Scott, Night Sky, 2022, mixed media on paper mounted to canvas, 38 x 50 inches (one of the last works to be created by John Scott)  

Ran Hwang: Evanescence and Regeneration

by: Thalia Vrachopoulos

Ran Hwang’s latest exhibition at the uptown Leila Heller Gallery re-introduces an abundance of transient forms and the eternal ephemeral. Hwang’s oeuvre – many of her artworks are located in such prestigious collections as, the Brooklyn Museum, the Houston Museum of Fine Arts and Seoul’s National Museum of Contemporary Art– is inspired by her ever-changing life between the US and Korea, as well as her life-long practise of Seon Buddhism. Hwang’s two-dimensional sculptural pieces are embedded with a delicate sense of ethereal melancholy as if mourning for the end of a life lived and for the pain imbuing the one to come.

Ran Hwang, Evanescense and Regeneration, Becoming Again_ETBF, 2024, paper buttons, pins, beads on Plexiglass, 94.4 x 141.7 inches (6p)
Ran Hwang, Evanescense and Regeneration, Becoming Again_ETBF, 2024, paper buttons, pins, beads on Plexiglass, 94.4 x 141.7 inches (6p)

Hwang’s new artworks created site-specifically for the Evanescence and Regeneration exhibition at Leila Heller Gallery– represent yet another step into an abstract vocabulary in radiant images of impermanent evanescent blooming forms. As seen in her series titled Becoming Again, in which branches of yellowish, rose and white plum blossoms flourish in snake-like constellations against a deep-blue sky, tangled together with cobweb-like boughs – all recurring symbols for the incessant ephemeral and fragility of life and nature – Hwang, carefully perfects with eloquent mastery, the unique embodiment of her well-known iconography into a static background of transparent Plexiglas.                                      

Ran Hwang, Evanescense and Regeneration Healing oblivious aqua_OS, 2024,
buttons, Hanji paper, beads, pins on wooden panels, 78.7 x 141.7 inches
Ran Hwang, Evanescense and Regeneration Healing oblivious aqua_OS, 2024,
buttons, Hanji paper, beads, pins on wooden panels, 78.7 x 141.7 inches

Similarly, in her maximalist work titled Healing Oblivious Aqua_OS, Hwang reformulates the silver-coloured wooden panel – in which her overflowing floret clusters, organically spring – into an immense two-dimensional ellipsoid shape, symbolizing the imminent transitory of natural forms. At the same time through her expression, she comments on the constant eternal cosmic regeneration of the Earth’s biosphere, despite the fleeting nature of phenomenal life. Her delicate blossoms with their colorful petals, appear to flow into a liquid phantasmagoria of becoming. Hwang’s Hanji paper and button-made florets appear to effortlessly meander through the dark branches into blooming bracelets of iridescent stars against the silver firmament.          

But Hwang’s artistic ingenuity stands out in her two small tondos, aptly titled Beyond Serenity. Poetically transforming with a totally new approach, a similar concept as her work Ode to the Full Moon, in which, the bright moon disc appears in fiery colors, beautifully interwoven with blossoms. The lunar disk is traditionally a beloved motif of earthly ephemerality and waning change in Korean art. However, in Beyond Serenity, Hwang reverses its customary meaning revealing like a Zen poem, the hidden and metaphysical connectivity beneath all of life’s phenomena and their apparent change through a conceptual paradox. The spherical geometrical shape of the full-moon now becomes a mystical symbol, not as symbol of constant impermanence, but of a fixed serenity; a static tranquility, into which all worldly change is melded into an abstract oneness, despite the ever-changing becoming of life and nature. In this way, the two monochromatic pieces delve into the transcendent realms of non-objectivity. The individual floral figures, which once engulfed the moon’s surface have dissolved now into a primordial womb, into a regenerating eternal One, in which fading and becoming has totally ceased. Something, that is reinforced by their crushing red or pink monochrome.

Hwang’s thematic choice of terrestrial transience comes to grips with the current exhibition of the Japanese artist Kenta Anzai, titled Impermanence at New York’s Guild Gallery. Although both artists address themes of ephemerality, their artistic methods diverge significantly. Anzai’s abstract yet dispiriting objects –a silent plethora of black vessels, primarily made of earthenware and urushi-tree lacquer, like the aesthetic tradition of wabi-sabi – constitute a material embodiment of the brief beauty of nature, adhering thus to a minimalist abstract approach of emptiness. His hollow pottery of organic shapes reflects though raw simplicity, and monochrome materiality, feelings of corrosion, exploiting vacancy or emptiness as artistic elements to formally render the fleeting experience of time’s endless passage.

Ran Hwang, Evanescence and Regeneration opening
Ran Hwang, Evanescence and Regeneration opening

In contrast, Hwang’s installations tackle the metaphysical problem of impermanence, not only through ascetic minimalism but via an electrifying maximalism of regenerating form and vivacious colors. Flowers, cobwebs, branches and falling stars symbolize eternal change. Nature constantly regenerates new ephemeral forms that live until their eventual passing, repeating thus a never-ending cycle of generation, degeneration, regeneration. Firmly standing on middle ground between sensuous representation and Anzai’s negating abstraction, Hwang blithely confronts the irreversible flowing of time, not with an abstract rendering of the void, but with a poetic iconography of rejuvenating nature.

Ran Hwang, Evanescence and Regeneration opening
Ran Hwang, Evanescence and Regeneration opening

The Evanescence and Regeneration exhibition offers a riveting encounter with the experience of transience and rebirth. Hwang creates a material and spiritual dialectic, through her ethereal works in unconventional media, highlighting the beauty of fragility and the circularity of time. Her monumental floral imagery stabilizes a fugitive glimpse of incessant flux and temporality into biomorphic figures. But simultaneously, it transforms the vast openness of infinity into the frailest of phenomena, merely a blossom’s petal. In a way, Hwang successfully undertakes to poetically inject the eternal now of Pascal, into the brief temporality of the moment.