Young Canadians

The idea of doing a Young Canadians issue of C came up as a way to showcase a number of artists whose work we like. The artists featured are young in the sense that all Canadians are young and in the sense that the idea of Canada itself evokes the youthful optimism of 1965, the year we adopted the red and white maple leaf flag, championed by Prime Minister Lester B. Pearson, as our national symbol. The white spaces on the Canadian flag signal the blank spaces of newness, neutrality and maybe even surrender; the colour red points to democratic values (by evoking Coca-Cola, for example) and socialism--both strong attributes of Canada even today.

It's a reflection of that socialist-democratic ethos that the idea that certain artists could be "better" than others is controversial. Canada is not a country that expects excellence from its cultural producers. Cultural elitism is a foreign idea, one that this country saw no reason to import. Of course this isn't true for the many Canadians among the top echelon of artists working today. If the Young Canadians issue of C asserts that the artists we like are also the best younger artists out there, this is to go against the national tendency to balk at superlatives. It's a reflex deeply ingrained by the awareness of where exactly unabashed superlatives come from: that country to the south--or in any case, other places, not here. Although Canadians may think that it is simply vulgar to be unequivocal in one's opinions, this view elides the simple fact that it takes confidence to celebrate accomplishment. I recall reading once in the New York Times that Matthew Barney is "the best artist of his generation." I can't remember reading something similar in Canada, about anyone, ever.

In his article "Law and Ordering: On Evaluating Recent Canadian Neo-conceptualism," Earl Miller suggests that an aversion to evaluative hierarchies might be a good thing, or that at least it makes for good art. Discussing the work of 11 younger artists, Miller finds a subtle and surprisingly consistent tendency throughout their respective practices "... present everyday, unpretentious materials and situations that cogently question elitism, truth value or both." A similar desire to debunk elitism is found in the work of Vancouver artist Althea Thauberger. With a freshness of expression equal to the invigorating qualities of Thauberger's art, Emily Vey Duke makes an analogy between the revolutionary powers of the Internet and the artist's ongoing project of community collaboration. Both put the control of narrative conventions into, as Vey Duke writes, "the hands of the little millions." Steven Shearer also makes art that focuses on ordinary people, giving poetic life to the longhaired social type known as the "metal head" or "stoner." Writing about Shearer, Monika Szewczyk notes the artist's ability to depict his subjects with a "seething luminosity" that elevates the hirsute outcast to all but iconic status. Yam Lau's article about Kristan Horton characterizes the Toronto artist as another ordinary type, "the amateur." Noting that Horton's work is "marked by a tenuousness that is typical of a hobbyist's touch" Lau points out that Horton's proclivity for craft "is oriented not towards perfection, but rather ... constructs a critical position for the artist."

Elevating themselves out of the realm of the ordinary, not by dint of craft but through the application of strategic thinking, are the youngest of the young Canadians in this issue, the Vancouver entity informally known as the Collecting Collective. Working together to act as art patrons and--maybe more Importantly--to represent themselves as collectors, the group is frank about what motivates their endeavour: in the words of collective member Cedric Bomford, "we've decided to pursue a different trajectory through the art world in order to avoid having to wait for something to come our way." Making your desires come true by inserting yourself into the picture is, seemingly, an obvious tactic. The combination of old-world aesthetics (their inspiration is the 19th-century French portrait painter Henri Fantin-Latour) and the self-actualizing YouTube/MySpace culture of today makes the Collecting Collective's endeavour absolutely contemporary. It complements Thauberger's project to bring art's reflective capacity to bear on the aesthetics of popular culture in a way that is empowering for the ordinary person.

With this issue C introduces a new look for the magazine. C's previous design scheme--black and white with a different spot colour each issue--had the aim of giving tangible expression to the bare conditions under which the magazine was produced. We were not a glossy publication, nor did we have the resources to become one. Our intention was to position the magazine as the upstart--or the underdog--of Canadian art periodicals, with a punk attitude and, quite often, with punk content to match. It was an approach that met with considerable success, including more than a few stalker-like letters of admiration. C extends its thanks to outgoing designer Andrew DiRosa for the key role he played in masterminding this look. However, as someone pointed out recently, C is not a fanzine, but a quarterly publication funded by the Canadian government. In keeping with this insight and the feeling that our previous strategy had run its course, we decided that a change was in order. Responsible for our new look are Antonio De Luca and Brian Morgan, designers also responsible for The Walrus, the news daily Dose and Maclean's magazine, among other publications. We are very excited to be working with Antonio and Brian and welcome them to the organization.