The Flow of Atelier Circulaire

A few weeks ago a group of Circulaire artists drove to Ottawa for the opening of Manuel Lau’s print show at Galerie d’art Jean-Claude-Bergeron. The trip was full of spontaneous episodes. When four of us went to the National Gallery, our two Cuban friends, who swim in and out of conversations with strangers like tropical fish in a coral reef, bumped into a trio, packing instruments after performing in a wood paneled room featuring classical paintings. Before I knew it we were all back at our friend’s vernissage, listening to the guitarists strum their classical rhythms, much to the delight of the gallery owner.

St. Patrick Street, Ottawa

Another unplanned chapter of that trip was when Brenda, whom I had the pleasure of meeting at the opening, invited our group of seven to her home after the show. This charming visit, doused with champagne, a delectable meal, and an animated trilingual conversation, was the perfect way to end the day.

Le couloir, Atelier Circulaire

Two weeks ago, Brenda came to Montreal. Since she wanted to see my work I hung a selection of framed pieces in my private space at Atelier Circulaire. I also wanted to show her a series of my large format collagraph prints. The exhibition space at our studio, colloquially referred to as Le couloir, was available for two more weeks before the next show, so I hung my big pieces there.

À marée haute, collagraph print, 130 x 96 cm, 2002

This series of prints was first exhibited in 2002, at my show Empreintes interieurs, at the Maison de la culture de Trois-Rivières, and two years later at Brique-collage, at the Saidye Bronfman Centre, in Montreal. Loto-Quebec owns four of these prints, Balance hangs in the Alcan collection, and Racines rouge was on exhibit at the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts Sales and Rental Gallery. However, after hanging the prints in Le couloir, I realized that many people had never seen them. It was a pleasure to share them with the artists I work with on a day to day basis. Since the prints were in full view from the kitchen table, we often talked about the work while grabbing a bite or sipping a hot beverage of choice.

Brenda’s visit to Atelier Circulaire coincided with a pot luck lunch followed by a Powerpoint presentation by Nicole, who had just returned from a stimulating visit to Philagrafika, the international print fair in Philadelphia. The table was bursting with wine bottles, improvised dishes alongside with more elaborate ones like Chinese pork and shrimp dumplings. When it was time to toast, Brenda asked what the special occasion was. She was bombarded with answers: “Your visit!,” “Nicole’s presentation!,” “Manuel’s residency in China!,” “Talleen’s vernissage!” That last raison d’être is a perfect example of how things fall into place at Atelier Circulaire. There was no opening planned, yet the atmosphere was a lovely celebration that coincided with my little show of big collagraphs. As I sat at the table surrounded by the circle of happy artists, gazing at my prints, I basked in the energy that makes Atelier Circulaire such a warm, vibrant and inspiring place. The joie de vivre and the love of art form the common ground where we create and interact.

Talleen Hacikyan

Swimming With Santana

There’s nothing quite like doing laps to the beat of Carlos Santana, especially the last round of calmer breast strokes that I do to wind down my routine. Carlos’ guitar has a definitely liquid sound that flows exquisitely. I felt like the black magic woman as I finished my fortieth lap at the Y today.

I’m not into astrology but for those of you who are wondering, I am a cancer. Perhaps this has something to do with the fact that I am definitely a water person. When I was born I lived with my family in LaSalle, in an apartment facing the Lake Shore of Montreal. My parents, who grew up on the shores of the Bosporus, in Istanbul, used to swim off the rocks in Lac Saint-Louis across the street from our home. Although I never swam in that in that river of dubious quality, I think it may have made an imprint on my mind. Maybe swimming stirs up feelings of security associated with early childhood.

A more plausible explanation for my love of water may lie in the fact that there was an outdoor pool in front of our apartment, and I do have vague memories of splashing around in there. Santana was twelve years old then, so I can’t say that I had the honor of listening to his music as I engaged in water play.

I swim a kilometer once, sometimes twice a week. That’s about the distance between my house and the local library. If there was a river between these two points--let’s call it Kildare River--and if I capsized from a canoe while navigating on it, I take comfort in knowing that I could swim to the safe harbor of the Eleanor London Public Library.

My Colombian husband, who grew up surrounded by the massive presence of the Andes, is a mountain person. No matter where we may venture on this planet, no matter what the temperature, if he sees a hill, his natural instinct is to climb it. I on the other hand, gravitate toward H2O.

Sacred pool, Pamukale, Turkey

One of my most memorable swims was in the sacred pool in Pamukale (“cotton castle”), Turkey, in 1995. This delightful aquatic haven is full of marble columns, plinths and the occasional capital-- Roman remains from the nearby temple of Apollo. The pool is fed by an inflow of hot calcium-laden mineral water. Swimming, or rather floating languidly, amidst these antiquities that toppled into the thermal water after an earthquake, was an earth-shattering, experience, rivaled only by an exquisite soak in the natural pools in Pamukale’s calcium carbonate terraces.

Pamukale, Turkey

I have had the pleasure of swimming in the Atlantic, the Pacific, the Mediterranean Sea, the Caribbean Sea, and the Aegean Sea, where I jumped into the open waters from a yacht.

A dip in the Aegean

So compared to the call of the wild, what’s so exciting about doing laps in a pool? Honestly? The hot shower and the eucalyptus steam bath after my routine. Some mornings, when the pool is particularly busy with zealous swimmers of all shapes, sizes and speeds, crawling in their respective lanes, it feels like I’m navigating a five-lane highway. It can get a bit stressful trying to decide whether to pass a swimmer or tag closely behind. When Santana works his magic, however, I calm down considerably. He puts the spell on me, baby!