An object’s poetic life

OLGA LIVSHIN

Lori Goldberg’s first solo art exhibition was in 1980, at Carnegie Centre, where she was working as an art instructor. Since then, she has followed much the same pattern in her career. She teaches. She paints. She exhibits. Her latest show, Veiled and Revealed, opened last week at the Sidney and Gertrude Zack Gallery.

“At first, I didn’t want to be an art teacher,” Goldberg admitted in an interview with the Independent. “But I’ve always loved working with people, loved the role of a guide. Of course, teaching offered the opportunity to get paid, but it’s so much more now. What I learn by teaching goes into my art. My students have become my collaborators. We learn from each other, so my class is not separate from my studio. This show is a reflection of my teaching,” she said, smiling while encompassing all the paintings on the gallery walls with an expansive gesture. “Both are works in progress.”

Veiled and Revealed is multidirectional, representing different sets of the artist’s skills and different facets of her creative exploration, although all of them revolve around objects, veiled as well as revealed in our everyday lives.

“Sometimes mundane objects become much more important than their mere functions,” explained Goldberg. “They acquire meanings because of people and events surrounding them.” As examples, she noted, “... a found stone becomes imbued with personal meaning and sanctity. A rubber frog toy is a metaphor for a kiss that will bring ever-lasting love.... Organic or mass-produced, these ordinary objects come to poetic life, revealing their hidden nature.”

Four of the paintings in the show have titles corresponding to people’s names, and Goldberg’s story about these works is unusual. She asked four fellow artists to choose an object and a color, then she created the paintings, each one with an artist’s name, each echoing not only the selected object and color but also Goldberg’s view of her friend’s personality.

Another series of paintings is all about bridges. “I like bridges,” Goldberg admitted. “A bridge is a metaphor of transitioning. It’s a powerful structure and, at the same time, it’s graceful like a ballet dancer. It’s a space between water, land and sky. For me, it’s like a connection to self.”

Goldberg’s bridges are contemplative, leading into the unknown, a steel lace in the foggy distance. The only exception is “Red Steel, Grey Sand.” The scarlet beams and trusses of the bridge shine like a beacon in the grey swirls of mystery. This bridge is almost alive. It knows the right direction.

In comparison, “Frog Prince” is a wink to the past. Its overt simplicity conceals a tapestry of meaningful threads. Childhood memories and mementoes of past loves interweave in a piece that is simultaneously playful and philosophical. For Goldberg, a frog prince is more than a fairy tale; it’s a symbol. After a date with a man who later became her first husband, she rode her bike home, thinking about him. When it started to rain, she found shelter under a tree and there, staring at her, sat a tiny marzipan frog, a lone candy someone had lost. “I thought, yes, that’s a sign. He’s my prince,” she recalled.

Goldberg considers objects to be commentaries on our fragmented and complex culture, our everyday existence.

“Objects show us how our lives are cluttered. At the same time, objects serve as our connections to events, tragic or celebratory, and those events trigger ideas,” she explained. “Although objects come from the external, they represent the internal. For example, when a loved one passes away, objects remain. They are like rituals; they cause memories to come back.”

Many of the show’s paintings examine the depth of the relationship between people and objects. They stir memories and expose underlying stories. She recounted one such tale: “My boyfriend suggested once: let’s throw 10 bucks to the wind and leave it for someone to find. Let’s make someone happy. We did.” That little act of mischievous kindness triggered “Memory: Random Acts.” On the surface, it’s a scattering of paint tubes on a light yellow field, weightless like a butterfly in flight. Underneath the obvious, it’s a musing on happiness, depicting the instruments of the artist’s trade, the objects that contribute to her art.

Veiled and Revealed is on display until March 6.

Olga Livshin is a Vancouver freelance writer. She’s available for contract work. Contact her at [email protected].

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