Scarborough Arts, a wonderful Toronto resource, has the motto "Laying the foundation for a vibrant cultural landscape." I greatly enjoy participating in their annual juried shows, that are always organized around a challenging theme. The exhibitions are held at the Todmorden Mills Papermill Gallery, or in the Gallery at their headquarters in the Bluffs Gallery, The Bluffs Gallery, 1859 Kingston Road, Scarborough.
Arresting Signs: Cautions on Four Continents
For its 2015 juried exhibition entitled "Word Lens", Scarborough Arts called on photographers to submit themed images in honour of Thesaurus Day, January 18th. In rresponse, I created a composite of amusing, informative and sometimes slightly sinister signs that I have photographed over the past five years, in Europe, North and Central America, and Africa. I was delighted with the theme of the show, as it allowed me to do with these images what I had been thinking of as the roadside halts accumulated. Taken together and in juxtaposition, they express the quirky words and expressions, and surprising subject matter, of signage. They also often tell a touching tale of the care humans try to give to animals in the jurisdictions they are responsible for. "Please Break for Snakes," for example, is a sign near Ontario's Killbear Park to protect the Massassauga Rattler; even a poisonous snake (our only one), deserves protection. Torontonians may disagree that Canada geese will just get out of the way if we honk at them. we As for the penguin warning, I leave it to your imagination, though yes, I did look under my car in the parking lot at Boulders Beach, South Africa, and yes, there was a penguin there!
Gallery Wrap fine art canvas print, 20 inches by 28 inches.
For its 2015 juried exhibition entitled "Word Lens", Scarborough Arts called on photographers to submit themed images in honour of Thesaurus Day, January 18th. In rresponse, I created a composite of amusing, informative and sometimes slightly sinister signs that I have photographed over the past five years, in Europe, North and Central America, and Africa. I was delighted with the theme of the show, as it allowed me to do with these images what I had been thinking of as the roadside halts accumulated. Taken together and in juxtaposition, they express the quirky words and expressions, and surprising subject matter, of signage. They also often tell a touching tale of the care humans try to give to animals in the jurisdictions they are responsible for. "Please Break for Snakes," for example, is a sign near Ontario's Killbear Park to protect the Massassauga Rattler; even a poisonous snake (our only one), deserves protection. Torontonians may disagree that Canada geese will just get out of the way if we honk at them. we As for the penguin warning, I leave it to your imagination, though yes, I did look under my car in the parking lot at Boulders Beach, South Africa, and yes, there was a penguin there!
Gallery Wrap fine art canvas print, 20 inches by 28 inches.
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In March 2013, the Scarborough Arts jury selected one of two pictures I submitted to explore the show's theme, "Childsight." As in the 2012 "Ego" show, I was excited by the possibility of showing consciousness in
animals, this time through the sight of two non-human children. I
love the way the baby zebra and llama in these two pictures are enfolded by their
mother's care, and from that safe space look out at the world with
such curiosity and sense of adventure.
"The Eyes of a Child #1"
The jury's selection is one of my most popular wildlife pictures, taken in Amboseli Park, Kenya, in 2007. Previously, I exhibited and sold the picture as an "Eight By Ten Art" print. For the Scarborough Arts show, I printed the picture on canvas.
The jury's selection is one of my most popular wildlife pictures, taken in Amboseli Park, Kenya, in 2007. Previously, I exhibited and sold the picture as an "Eight By Ten Art" print. For the Scarborough Arts show, I printed the picture on canvas.
"The Eyes of a Child #2"
I took this picture in a small park in Chile in 2012. The little llama bounced off to make the rounds of all the other adults in the group after I took the picture, and was welcomed with such delight by each -- the other direction in which childsight flows.
I took this picture in a small park in Chile in 2012. The little llama bounced off to make the rounds of all the other adults in the group after I took the picture, and was welcomed with such delight by each -- the other direction in which childsight flows.
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In 2012 I exhibited a Triptych entitled "I'm Looking at You," a limited-edition set of three framed prints on on Hahnemûhle archival photo rag paper. My entry took up the challenge offered by Scarborough Arts: "to react to this term, using it as a catalyst for the creation of your artwork. Is ego a human phenomenon? Is the human ego an essential ingredient in the art making process? How does the ego fuel creation of artwork, and how does it manifest in your work?" I found that ego does indeed matter – but not my own.
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"I'm Looking At You # 1"
Thomson's Gazelle, Nairobi Park, 2010.
Thomson's Gazelle, Nairobi Park, 2010.
"I'm Looking At You # 2"
Female Red-Winged Starling, Cape Point, South Africa, 2010
Female Red-Winged Starling, Cape Point, South Africa, 2010
"I'm Looking At You # 3"
Rock Hyrax, Boulders Beach near Simonstown, Cape Peninsula, South Africa.
Rock Hyrax, Boulders Beach near Simonstown, Cape Peninsula, South Africa.
The photographs in the tryptich “I’m Looking At You” are an exploration of the idea that ego is not purely human but is shared by at least the warm-blooded animals: mammals and birds. My attraction to the theme of the Scarborough Arts 2012 Exhibition is deeply rooted in my upbringing in, and life commitment to Africa. As a child growing up in South Africa, and adult with a career as an African Studies professor, I had the opportunity to be in the presence of animals constantly; animals not our pets, animals with their own negotiated boundaries around human contact.
From the beginning, I was fascinated by the look in their eyes as they encountered us. There is one level of awareness for their own kind, and yet another for us humans. Now that we are in many places no longer their predator, they have the chance to think about us before fleeing. And think about us they do, especially if their species has chosen to cohabit with us, and even take advantage of the new ecosystems we create. An antelope; a small rock-dweller whose closest relative is, paradoxically the elephant; a fun-loving bird of a robust, world-wide genus; the species who allow us to approach, or who even seek out our places for entertainment or food, are ambassadors from the animal kingdom, here to remind us that they, too, are curious, playful, engaged with those around them – even of another, rather bossy and dangerous species.
I was inspired by both definitions of “ego” presented in the Scarborough Arts Manifesto for its 2012 Exhibition. Firstly: “the ‘I’ or self of any person; a person as thinking, feeling, and willing, and distinguishing itself from the selves of others and from objects of its thought.” The three photographs in the triptych explore animal consciousness as ego, purely defined as “I Am.” When these three animals – two mammals and a bird – look at me, the consciousness in their eyes shows that ego belongs indeed not just to humans. If they say with their eyes “I’m looking at you!” they are also saying “I’m looking at you!” And look at the interactions between non-human species; there is a fascination of horses for cats, dogs for tiger cubs, gorillas for a kitten pet. We live in a YouTube era when we can bask in these inter-species interactions, and be sharply reminded that we humans hold no monopoly on love for other animals. If non-human species had no minds, how could they engage with each other this way?
The second definition of “ego” is poignant for animals trying to get by the 21st century: “the part of the psychic apparatus that experiences and reacts to the outside world and thus mediates between the primitive drives of the id and the demands of the social and physical environment.” Without our human brain-power, how do animals negotiate the new and the strange – and sometimes highly rewarding – environments that the planet’s dominant species has created? It can’t be just their “id”, their instincts driving them. Change in Africa has been too fast, and created too many new opportunities and dangers, for hard-wired behaviours to succeed in the new world they find themselves in.
The Rock Hyrax – “Dassie” in South African parlance, is ubiquitous in the crags and outcrops of the continent, managing well on its own, but venturing close to humans for scraps and protection from predators where it can. The Red Winged Starling, like most species of its genus, is opportunistic and robustly intelligent. I’ve seen them ride the downdrafts at Thomson’s Falls in Kenya, purely for the fun of it. A family of them make a living entertaining visitors to Cape Point, Africa’s Southern-most tip in South Africa.
Speaking of that intrepid British colonist Thomson who named the Falls, the “Tommie” is named for him. Thomson’s gazelles (closely related to the South African national animal, the Springbok), grace the plains of Eastern Africa, providing camera fodder for visitors, and food for the lions, cheetah and leopards – who are even more desirable camera subjects. They reliably show up when other game is scarce, and they reliably stand and look, if it is only humans (safely in a car) to bother them. They flock to the shelter of the parks and reserves created for them by humans, and thrive there. They congregate, with the other antelope, in the areas held by the cattle herders, surely knowing that the Maasai only eat “God’s animals” in times of extreme hardship, when the cows have died.
I encountered the Hyrax at Boulders Beach on the Cape Peninsula – home to a colony of African Penguins with whom it also cohabits – calmly checking out the picnic opportunities amongst the beach-goers, and not the least afraid of me. The starling joined me for lunch at the Cape Point cafeteria, staying till well-sated (then back to playing in the down-drafts over the rocky Point). The Tommie stopped his vigilance over his ladies long enough to check me out as I drove by, safe in the sanctuary of Nairobi Park, city skyscrapers lining the horizon. All three said to me: “I am, and who are you?”
From the beginning, I was fascinated by the look in their eyes as they encountered us. There is one level of awareness for their own kind, and yet another for us humans. Now that we are in many places no longer their predator, they have the chance to think about us before fleeing. And think about us they do, especially if their species has chosen to cohabit with us, and even take advantage of the new ecosystems we create. An antelope; a small rock-dweller whose closest relative is, paradoxically the elephant; a fun-loving bird of a robust, world-wide genus; the species who allow us to approach, or who even seek out our places for entertainment or food, are ambassadors from the animal kingdom, here to remind us that they, too, are curious, playful, engaged with those around them – even of another, rather bossy and dangerous species.
I was inspired by both definitions of “ego” presented in the Scarborough Arts Manifesto for its 2012 Exhibition. Firstly: “the ‘I’ or self of any person; a person as thinking, feeling, and willing, and distinguishing itself from the selves of others and from objects of its thought.” The three photographs in the triptych explore animal consciousness as ego, purely defined as “I Am.” When these three animals – two mammals and a bird – look at me, the consciousness in their eyes shows that ego belongs indeed not just to humans. If they say with their eyes “I’m looking at you!” they are also saying “I’m looking at you!” And look at the interactions between non-human species; there is a fascination of horses for cats, dogs for tiger cubs, gorillas for a kitten pet. We live in a YouTube era when we can bask in these inter-species interactions, and be sharply reminded that we humans hold no monopoly on love for other animals. If non-human species had no minds, how could they engage with each other this way?
The second definition of “ego” is poignant for animals trying to get by the 21st century: “the part of the psychic apparatus that experiences and reacts to the outside world and thus mediates between the primitive drives of the id and the demands of the social and physical environment.” Without our human brain-power, how do animals negotiate the new and the strange – and sometimes highly rewarding – environments that the planet’s dominant species has created? It can’t be just their “id”, their instincts driving them. Change in Africa has been too fast, and created too many new opportunities and dangers, for hard-wired behaviours to succeed in the new world they find themselves in.
The Rock Hyrax – “Dassie” in South African parlance, is ubiquitous in the crags and outcrops of the continent, managing well on its own, but venturing close to humans for scraps and protection from predators where it can. The Red Winged Starling, like most species of its genus, is opportunistic and robustly intelligent. I’ve seen them ride the downdrafts at Thomson’s Falls in Kenya, purely for the fun of it. A family of them make a living entertaining visitors to Cape Point, Africa’s Southern-most tip in South Africa.
Speaking of that intrepid British colonist Thomson who named the Falls, the “Tommie” is named for him. Thomson’s gazelles (closely related to the South African national animal, the Springbok), grace the plains of Eastern Africa, providing camera fodder for visitors, and food for the lions, cheetah and leopards – who are even more desirable camera subjects. They reliably show up when other game is scarce, and they reliably stand and look, if it is only humans (safely in a car) to bother them. They flock to the shelter of the parks and reserves created for them by humans, and thrive there. They congregate, with the other antelope, in the areas held by the cattle herders, surely knowing that the Maasai only eat “God’s animals” in times of extreme hardship, when the cows have died.
I encountered the Hyrax at Boulders Beach on the Cape Peninsula – home to a colony of African Penguins with whom it also cohabits – calmly checking out the picnic opportunities amongst the beach-goers, and not the least afraid of me. The starling joined me for lunch at the Cape Point cafeteria, staying till well-sated (then back to playing in the down-drafts over the rocky Point). The Tommie stopped his vigilance over his ladies long enough to check me out as I drove by, safe in the sanctuary of Nairobi Park, city skyscrapers lining the horizon. All three said to me: “I am, and who are you?”