Garret Kinjerski - arts editor 

I had the privilege of walking through the new Art Gallery of Alberta this week, and after writing multiple articles leading up to its grand opening, I was happy to finally meet the mammoth metal structure. 

With my media pass securely around my neck, I roamed the gallery sans tour group. Deep down inside I felt like a kid again—a kid who no longer praised the Power Rangers but the works of Karsh, Degas, Goya and the contemporary artists Cardiff and Miller. Then again, this is the great thing about the new gallery: it brings the inner-child out in you and makes your imagination soar with possibilities; and this is a gallery filled with endless possibility.

EDGAR DEGAS: Figures in Motion

Jan. 31 to May 30, 2010

Finding motion in a sculpture: it’s not exactly easy, but Degas makes it happen. Degas, a 19th-century painter and sculptor, is one of the many artists of an international reputation on display at the new gallery. 

The gallery was granted the rights to show Degas’ famous “Little Dancer” sculpture, something the old gallery probably could have never done. 

The statue itself is also a testament to the skill of the artist in achieving such magnificent detail in a bronze casting. The feet and legs are near human appearance.

Other works by Degas include bronze castings of horses that capture the figures in motion. Every gallop, leap and step of the horse is sculpted to a tee. It mirrors the first motion picture of Sallie Gardner at a Gallop, another piece of art that took into account the elegant movements of the horse.

The exhibit isn’t only limited to sculptures, however; there are also some of Degas’ prized pastels, and paintings of French ballerinas. These pieces have a slightly different tone than his bronze castings because they do not impose the static nature of the sculpture. Instead they’re airy and of the expressionist origins. They involve colour and a different sense of life, but still remain equally remarkable to the rest of the exhibit.

Francisco Goya: The Disasters of War and Los Caprichos

Jan. 31 to May 30

Francisco Goya isn’t a household name, but in fact this artist’s work has visited Edmonton before. Back in 1997, the then Edmonton Art Gallery hosted an exhibition much akin to this one. 

This may be considered somewhat ill-thought-out on the curator’s part, but as they say in the biz: “There’s a lot Goya’ing around.”

Nonetheless, the prints on display are one of a kind after taking into account the amount of detail involved in the prints. Especially considering these prints date back to the 1800s.

The two print suites are the Los Caprichos and The Disasters of War. They deal with the Spanish Inquisition and the brutality in the Peninsular War. These prints in essence represent the atrocities that mankind inflicts upon itself. 

They have the same despair of pictures from Auschwitz or Dachau, but 300 years earlier.

One thing I immediately noticed with the prints is their grim and dark appearances. Works involving the devil, witchcraft and abuses of the church really stand out. This is due in part to the fact that Goya was deliberately trying to show the atrocities of the Spanish Inquisition. Goya was renowned for displaying the ravages of war by which he would also provide a social critique of the cultural and religious thoughts of the day.

The only downside to the showing is the gallery space itself. The room may be deliberately lit darkly, but it may be too dark.

Karsh: Image Maker

Jan. 31 to May 30

Today everyone is able to take multiple photos, check them, and either keep them or delete them. It may be hard to believe that at one point in time the release of the shutter was final; that picture was the one you were left with at the end of the day. Yousuf Karsh, an eminent Canadian photographer, didn’t need fancy digital SLRs or Photoshop software. 

Everything was done in the raw, and not only are his amazing photos on display but also the tools he used to craft them.

The first thing one notices is the large cameras on display. 

A security officer jokingly commented on the camera I had strapped around my neck, a mere Canon D30 and said, “I bet you wouldn’t want to haul one of those around,” as he pointed at one of Karsh’s larger cameras. Then you look at the portrait shots of Churchill, Einstein, Castro and Hepburn and feel even more down about your photography skills.

But one knows an amazing photo when one sees one, and this is the case with all of Karsh’s photos. 

He had a sense of capturing the inner subject. His portrait of Jung is a tribute to this philosophy of showing the inner character, by which he shows Jung looking down as if to be meditating on the world. Jung was famous for his interpretations on the self.

The Murder of Crows by Janet Cardiff and George Bures Miller

Jan. 31 to May 9

If you’re scared of birds, or worse, the sound of birds, this may be the wrong exhibit for you. But I would still suggest you go, because this sound installation will rock your perception of space and time.

Set up in a dark gallery, the installation consists of 98 speakers spread throughout the space. As the viewer moves around the space, the speaker nearest to him/her directs a specific sound. This could be singing, ambience or the cawing of the crow. The display lasts a staggering 30 minutes but visitors are advised to sit down and enjoy the auditory orgy of speaker à speaker. Even better, close your eyes and imagine the birds themselves.

This was definitely the most memorable exhibit at the new gallery. In a weird way the contemporary piece is so attractive because instead of engaging yourself in a painting, photo or sculpture, it engages you.

The artists also did another sound installation called The Storm, which involves a room modeled from a dentist office in Japan. All you do is walk in and listen, look at the grungy sink and watch the light flicker as the sound of storm brewing outside tricks your mind into thinking it’s actually raining.

Cardiff and Miller are not only artists but also magicians. They may be the first of many future artists who dwell on simply on the engagement of the mind instead of the essence of an object.