Muse: Exposure Photo Fest

In Greek mythology, the nine daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne presided over the arts and sciences: they were called the Muses. Muse is also a collaborative photo exhibition. The title for the show is appropriate, as the thread that connects the works of the 9 artists are the human subjects that inspire them. The works themselves are otherwise very diverse, from polaroids, to boudoir tintypes, to large format digital compositions.

The opening was packed, and there was a preponderance of lanky photobug types, but I think the diversity of the works in a single room means that even the most casual gallery goer will find something to ponder. And hey, looking is free, so why not go for half an hour and see what these works evoke in you? With no intention of abasing the other artists, here's what piqued my interest most:

- Lucky I Got What I Want. A carefully arranged set of 15 or so framed photos taken in and around a wintery log cabin, Lori Andrew's piece is visual poetry. Rhythmically alternating in subject between inanimate objects and a woman, the photos almost beg the viewer to build their own narrative. Why did the woman put on a green dress? Is she waiting for something/someone while prone on the sofa? WHAT DID SHE WANT, DAMMIT?! As the artist started to explain the collection to someone, I ran away so she wouldn't ruin my own interpretation.

- The two Wallflowers. For me, Colin Way's contemporary portraits of women cleverly evoke the kind of non-perspective Virgin Mary iconography you see in Orthodox churches. While the clothes have been (I assume) digitally flattened to match the wallpaper, the skillful styling of the hair and the makeup do so to. Is there a subtle commentary here for those somewhat familiar with the history and role of religious art? I'd like to think so.

- Blacksmiths. Dan Bannister's unframed photo collection of smiths and hand crafted iron objects has a documentary quality to it.  I like the subtle smile of one smith, and the faint weariness of another... these muses punctuate the muted tones of the collection. Cradling their wares in their deeply creased and sooted hands, the visceral connection between the makers and their works soothed me in the age of Aliexpress.

- This World is a Veil (I-IV). The type of work that makes you appreciate how much more there is to photographic art than taking pictures.  I still haven't figured out what all the objects were in the shots, or how Julya Hajnoczky overlaid them.  The background human forms juxtaposed with these emerging objects left me staring at them in reflective thought..musing, if you will.

Muse runs through February 20th at Studio 122, located at 4029 8th Street in the industrial core of Calgary's South East.

The Huron Bride

Fear of the unknown is amongst the most primal of fears. Historically set in the remote forests of Upper Canada, the Huron Bride is effectively an educational piece disguised as a scary ghost play. The haunted mill backdrop superficially sets the horror tone, with suitably moody lighting (often only a single portable lamp) and sound effects. The plot is boilerplate and predictable, which will leave ghost story aficionados rolling their eyes as there is no unknown, and hence no visceral fear for the audience to experience except the odd crashing prop.

We may have seen the plot in broad strokes before, but the strength of the script is in craftily painting a picture of personal life in rural Ontario nearly two centuries ago. This is the real unknown for the average audience, for whom I'm guessing CBC's Murdoch Mysteries commercials are the primary source of period Canadiana.

With the exception of the male lead flubbing a few lines and delivering others reminiscent of the bearded priest in Little Mosque on the Prairie, the cast successfully conveyed the hardship, as well as the social tensions and conventions of the time. I might not have been scared, but was thoroughly creeped out by Leanne Govier's performance as the troubled half-Indian child Lyca. 

I somewhat enjoyed The Huron Bride, but it's more like I appreciated it. Especially given that Vertigo is offering $25 seats in the back rows, which we took advantage of. Now that your fright expectations and costs have been managed, you can go learn about but not fear the historical haunted hinterlands at Vertigo Theatre through February 23.