On May 23, I attended the private screening of Surfaces amoureuses, a documentary about taille douce, intaglio printmaking, made by Serge Lafortune. Serge, a dentist by profession, used to be a member of Atelier Circulaire, when it was located on Molière Street, in Montreal. I was fascinated by his double identity, dentist-printmaker. He always wore snug latex gloves to keep his hands impeccable for his patients and he had the advantage of having a sure supply of dental tools with which to etch his copper plates. Now Serge can add filmmaker to his list of credits.
I went to see Surfaces amoureuses because I know most of the artists featured in it. In the film, Louis Pierre Bougie says, “La gravure c’est une passion, un passe temps…c’est la continuité.” Louis Pierre’s creative energy is abundant and constant to say the least. For him making art is as natural as breathing. I’ve visited him in his studio and carried on entire conversations with him while he applied washes over monotypes or hammered his collages in order to produce a sure-fire bond between his papers.
During one of my visits, I noticed paintbrushes drying in the cutlery section of his dish drainer. The sight of the Chinese bamboo handle brushes, amidst forks and knives, epitomized the fact that for Louis Pierre art and life intermingle and coexist innately.
After writing the above paragraph, I had the immense pleasure of visiting Le goût de l’encre, the stunning retrospective of Monique Charbonneau at La Grande Bibliothèque. This show, curated by Hedwidge Asselin, is a must-see, for its understated beauty, its power to move, its impeccable presentation. The show presents some didactic information, mainly through a video made in 1972. It features an interview with the artist by Aline Desjardins for the program Femmes d’Aujour’hui.
Detail of Mélodie étourdi (1986) by Talleen
Monique Charbonneau was my woodcut printing teacher at UQAM. It was in her class that I fell in love with printmaking. I took the class during my final semester. As soon as I graduated, I joined Atelier Circulaire, where I continued making woodcut prints for two years before exploring other print techniques. When I stood in front of the black and white woodcuts of her swimmers, my whole being shook, my heart rocked up and down those engraved waves, I was drowning, I was floating, I was at the mercy of these images. Monique Charbonneau had transmitted her passion for this medium to me and to a generation of students, this I knew, but now I was standing in front of tangible byproducts of her passion. I thought to myself, this is why I do what I do.
In the video, Aline Desjardins mentions the death of Monique’s husband, Albert Dumuchel, the year prior to the making of the video. Dumouchel, considered the father of printmaking in Quebec, initiated Monique to several print techniques. Aline asks Monique if art helps her deal with her husband’s death. Monique says that yes, art makes her feel less alone. She says that she feels that she is continuing something that she started with her husband. “J’ai l’impression de continuer…”
Printmaking, especially the printing process, by its very nature requires repetition of certain gestures--cutting and wetting paper, inking and wiping plates, turning the wheel of the press, rotation after rotation.
In Paul Auster’s latest novel, Man in the Dark, Katya explains to her grandfather that a good film director knows how to use inanimate objects to express ideas and human emotions. The wheel of the printing press, especially as the printer starts to turn it, represents tradition and history and suggests advancement through space and time. Like the name of my studio, Atelier Circulaire, the wheel symbolizes continuity.
Detail of Grass Houses (2005) by Talleen
After years of creative practice artists become familiar with the rhythm of the creative process, its surges and dormant stages. We understand the adrenalin rush before an exhibition, the emptiness following the show, the experimental dance while we search for direction, the yielding that comes with faith and confidence in the creative act. After many years of practice, these cycles begin to feel natural, like the seasons. They provide us with predictable leitmotifs that mark the passing of time. They are connectors between past, present, and future. Perhaps this is what continuity is all about.
Talleen Hacikyan
Le goût de l’encre
Retrospective of Monique Charbonneau
La Grande Bibliothèque, Montreal
Until August 16, 2009
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