Monday Morning Art #19 - Emily Carr

I wonder what it would've been like to pop into Emily Carr's home in Victoria in the late 1930s?  I suspect she was a curmudgeonly old lady.  Born in 1871 (her birthday by wild coincidence was yesterday).   Then again, as her health waned, and her effort turned to writing, the results were very sensitive and thoughtful pieces, so perhaps she was a kindly old soul.

Regardless, the works she created were never devoid of emotion and power.   Working through the end of Post Impressionist influences into a modernist, at times surrealist feel, she holds a valued place in Canadian art.  Usually 'Monday Morning Art' starts with a bit of mystery, and a 'can you guess this artist' query.   Not much challenge at guessing this artist.

To launch the tweet stream under that hashtag, I led with perhaps her most Van Gogh-esque piece to throw the viewers off a little bit.

This image at left is her "Above the Gravel Pit" from 1937. A bit strange that this piece is so similar to a Vincent work, that late in her painting career.  Would have expected that much earlier, perhaps while she studied in France?

Getting ahead of myself, perhaps.  Let's look at her life in painting.

 Carr really has two periods of painting in her life.  In her early years, after some time studying art in San Francisco as a teen,  she went off to live in England for 8 years, and a couple of years painting in France as well.  The influence of Cezanne was strong in her Parisian circle of friends.  Perhaps not a surprise in this Breton Church piece (1906).

Carr returns to Canada permanently in 1911.

Her early work had already turned to depicting scenes from aboriginal villages and vestiges in the British Columbian province of her home.   

An interesting element of her depictions of the aboriginal presence in the landscape is how the totem poles and villages appear to fit into their environs.  There's a sense of harmony, for example in this piece " Totem Walk at Sitka" (1907) where the totem poles alternate with tree trunks along the forest path.



The totem poles among a village at "Gitwangak, Queen Charlotte Islands" (1912) depicts the figures of the carved totems in harmony with the residents of the space, under a living sky, in vibrant colours clearly influenced by the post impressionist perspective.  







Indian Church, 1929 shows another perspective. The western church sits in a foreboding and over-powering forest.  One gets the sense that the building exists almost ephemerally in its landscape and overpowered by the rain forest, which could erase it at its slightest whim.












When people showed little enthusiasm for her modernist-leaning pieces, she mostly gave up painting for a time, between about 1913 and 1927.

But, perhaps my favourite work from Emily Carr comes from during that time. Her "Arbutus Tree" (1922) captures a great sense of the unique BC landscape, arching over the tiny elements of the local humans.

When I visited the province it was the arbutus tree that was one of my memorable moments, seeing the orange-fleshed forms along the road in the sunlight was a special part of the experience.

When encouraged to start showing again in 1927, she had a bigger impact than she had earlier experienced. This was especially so when she gained attention of the National Gallery in an exhibit of west-coast art.  Making contact with Lawren Harris and others in the  Group of Seven Canadian artists was also a big influence.   

Perhaps it was Harris' influence that had her gradually evolve into broader landscape subjects, and there is certainly some cross-fertilization evident in the work in this latter period of her life.

One British analyst considering a recent prominent exhibit in London had an interesting point to make.  She is not a pretty artist, was his point.  True, there is a malevolence in some of this work that almost makes more sense with our modern perspective of humanity's impact on the natural environment.

Her "The Mountain" from 1933 captures a bit of this.  With the tiny village below the looming mass of the landscape.  This one makes me think a bit of the "Frank Slide" of 1903, and how the planet can erase the presence of humans with the slightest shrug.



Her health waned with heart attacks in '37 and '39, and strokes shortly thereafter.  Carr's efforts turned to writing in the early '40s, with several well-regarded works produced both then and posthumously.  (Carr's "Book of Small" for example.)

Emily Carr died in 1945 at the age of 73.

Well known and respected across Canada in the late 20th century and beyond, recent sales of her works command millions of dollars at auction.