University of Winnipeg student Megan Dupas spent her summer vacation among canvases, sculptures and prints as studio and gallery assistant at Flin Flon’s NorVA Centre. In the following story she reflects on her experience and the insights she gained about art, and life, over the past four months.
Every morning I flick the hard plastic switch on the window sign to spark the letters O-P-E-N. My day of work begins at 10 am, but it’s not like any job I’ve ever had before. My time card is a piece of paper and a pen, because this is an art studio and gallery. Every shift I’m greeted by the slatwalls that run parallel down the length of the space. They’re coloured a cream yellow shade of butter, and they brightly display the work and lives of the artists.
As I scan the room I see a young sketch artist who processes the world in black and white, blurring the lines with graphite.
I can feel the beautiful kindness of a painter radiating from her watercolour.
On the opposite wall, a striking great blue heron with her baby, enshrouded in an oval frame — the painting depicts one artist’s profound love of nature.
This is real art created by real people. This isn’t a stuffy art gallery where the public is shunned.
NorVA has its moments of bustling action, like during the batik workshop held in July.
For three days I was welcomed by the toasty smell of melting beeswax; it reminded me of being a child and making Christmas crafts at my grandma’s.
The class had a convivial atmosphere and I really enjoyed being involved. I’ve learned that NorVA is a nurturing place where both children and adults can play.
Sometimes NorVA is a silent space, save for the humming of our Mac computer, the vehicles passing by or the murmurs of chatter within Johnny’s Social Club.
Of course, it’s never quiet for too long, because the artists return to delve into their projects. Their brushes swirl in trusty water glasses, producing little chimes, and I hear the faint sound of bristles meeting canvas, sweeping and stippling.
Often people come in to visit and to view the art. I hear their praise of local talent and their wistful comments of how they wish they were artistic themselves.
Why are we so hard on ourselves when it comes to art? One day I came across a book in the storage closet while I was organizing, called No More Second Hand Art: Awakening the Artist Within, by Peter London. In childhood, the author explains, we learn how to speak and how to create images. Although we continue to communicate verbally as we grow older, many people stop expressing themselves visually. We become embarrassed and compare our art to others, causing us to feel inferior and so we focus our energy elsewhere. By the time we’re adults, art becomes our lost language.
Visual art is not an extinct dialect, however, and it can still be re-learned by anyone at any time.
Take inspiration from some of NorVA’s resident artists, like Ron Watt. He didn’t start oil painting until he retired.
The same goes for Marg Britton, who I remember as the guidance counsellor at École McIsaac School when I was little. Now retired, she takes photographs and transforms them with Photoshop and encaustic wax. Her intent is never to make modern art or sought-after décor; she simply transmits her feelings about the world, to the world.
I’ve always drawn or painted throughout my young life, but my vision and purpose for making art became dormant. My own creative side was in a coma. Then I became the summer student here at NorVA, where encouragement is fostered. My artistic muscles started to twitch and then my mind began to stir, until finally, I woke up and rose from my bed of insecurity.
I stopped criticizing my work so harshly; instead I accept it for what it is, a valid expression of myself.
I’ve rediscovered the fearlessness to put myself out there. I used to be very unfiltered, impervious to the world’s judgment. Then I lost a few people in my life. The losses have made me more resolute, but somehow, they also dimmed the boldness of character I used to show.
Before taking this job, I would have been very reluctant to write an essay. Now, as I look at my own art displayed on the slatwall, I see a person with insightful thoughts. The reassurance I feel from embracing my creative style now shines onto my writing.
By the time you’re reading this I’ll be back at the University of Winnipeg, not for visual arts but for communications.
This summer job at NorVA will be an asset to my resume going forward as I pursue a career in journalism. The credit to my individuality is an immense earning.
If your creative side fell to slumber yesterday or long ago, wake it up, and begin articulating your unfiltered self.
