or "Wil takes a Holiday from the internet".

I'm moving house, writing a new artist statement, and painting in the studio. I find I don't have much to say, except in conversation. Nothing to shout into the void of zeros and ones right now. It's been a busy summer and I've said a lot.
That means a hiatus on blogging until the fall.
If you want to converse, email me, or catch up with me at the RBC Painting Competition in September, the Toronto International Art Fair in October, or the Patrick Mikhail gallery in November

See you all in Autumn.

Plop Goes The Weasel

The Weasel is hungry. The Weasel is HUNGER. So the weasel is the rube, and the end. Hunger, the weasel, DESIRE is pressed into the service of the dutiful(DOG - in the name of making his duty easier - the instutionalized violence of say, the Stanford Prison Experiment - movement towards the idleness of Foghorn), and the safe/bored(entertainment in lieu of participation, thin increasing boredom of protection without actual threat, Foghorn's orbit around duty as a negation of his position as FOOD).
The dog is forced to play FOOD.
Foghorn is inevitably FOOD.
The Weasel is HUNGER.

Notes from this morning's viewing. Food remaining a very funny word.
In other news, Nancy Tousley wrote a little review in the Calgary Herald yesterday about my two shows up in Calgary right now.

Daisy Gets Erotik

For those raised where I was, the omission of "i"s dotted with an x will be a disappointment.
Something like a postscript to all the discussion of Calgary art.
I remember coming home from Vancouver one Christmas and hallucinating(I'd take some morphine before flying) or dreaming that I saw Graceland(Calgary artists space, not Elvis' house) from the air as we made the descent into Calgary. I even remember connecting the road to it, seen from the air, to one I used to drive when I worked as driver for my Dad's company.
This is a common dream.
Some missed part of a city I am familiar with. Most often found by continuing down a street I know already, past the furthest point I'd walked. Some calm comfort, some savoury dream-happiness at having found, by no more effort than continuing on, some small part in a familiar place that solicited the same feeling as walking in a specifically unfamiliar place made safe by virtue of your intention to visit it's general location.
But I walked down 14th avenue last time I was home, into a neighbourhood I don't know and it felt nothing like that. I just checked off some box in my head, easily expanded some imaginary map.

Painting: Thick and Thin Post Number Six: Frontier Myth Making

I did an interview with Leah Sandals for the National Post last month about Painting: Thick and Thin at the Glenbow Museum. The interview will be appearing in the paper tomorrow, you can read the online version here: Questions & Artists: Frontier Myth-Making .
Leah's done a fine job of editing my hungover rambling into a cohesive interview. For a little background on the show and some words by the artists about the themes dealt with in the interview, check out these earlier posts. I've tried to develop the complexities of the exhibition's subject matter with the artists in a venue not as touched by word counts, or the editing needs of large publishers or institutions.
Exciting day, a national article published at the same day as Portrayal, a group exhibition I have some work in, opens at the Diane Farris Gallery.

Painting: Thick and Thin Post Number Five

A very nice photo essay of the exhibition "Painting: Thick and Thin" I curated for the Sled Island Festival at the Glenbow Museum has been posted at shotgun-review.ca
For further information on this exhibition, posted on this blog and on Kim Neudorf's Writing Shed In The Woods, click here.