Dear Me, Welcome To The Truest Self.

Exhibition review by Jesse June Jack

This review must start with a revision. Forgive the mechanical tone of this beginning, but it is necessary for us to depart into the explorative pieces seen in the 2024 exhibition Dear Me. A quote taken from a blurb on Gallery 1265’s wall, right at the entrance, is a summation of what this exhibition is about. It says:

“Dear Me (2024) is a multi-media art exhibition that encourages a moment of reflection on where we are in our individual journeys…The artworks on display are deeply reflective of the personal narratives that unfolded after the pandemic…In this space, artists invite viewers to witness the emotional tapestry woven by the human experience.”

This is mostly true. Reader, when I postulate truth, know that I in no way intend to convey suspicion on the artists nor the gallery about any falsehoods, far from it. For example, Eric Lam’s Believe in Fairies exemplifies the intent stated in the quote above. The artist melds copper to the form of an unclosed circle, with a curvy wave line intersecting the bigger circle at different points. The bigger circle represents the line of fate, from birth to death. The smaller interjecting line represents the landmark moments in our life, the pivots where the arc of our story changes dramatically. Seeing the piece in person is truly spectacular, as the birth end of the circle is clamped down to the slab – almost as if to represent the foundations we find ourselves birthed into. The death line arches downward, eager to close the circle but unable to. The brown copper glints under the gallery lights – as if to say, ‘this is a life, in its barest terms, in its truest form.’

And there is that word again. Truth. Reader, to fully convey what the artwork in this exhibition says (to me, at the very least), I find myself asking more of the blurb on the wall. Art like Chanelle Mendes’ Note to Self, Minah Cap’s everyone but you, an exception?, and Shuo Yan’s Artist’s Shirt drive me to this belief that not only does this exhibit attempt to encourage reflection, but unravels the liminal space between reality and abstraction to show the truest sense of self that these artists can possibly display. The vulnerability on display transcends form and composition, even daring to invite the viewer to engage with the art, to touch a fragment of time and personal identity made manifest.

Take Mendes’ Note to Self. The artist uses paper maps, such as the TTC’s bus system map, subway lines, and a piece of a map of Ottawa as a canvas. This showcases the layers of physical space on the artists’ identity, places they have been, routes they’ve walked a thousand times ad nauseum. Or maybe they are roads and pathways the artist is yet to master, eager to chart this new sense of self through every nook and cranny ahead of them.

Tied across the layered canvas is a blue string, with four watches of varying size, color, and shape dangling in the front of the maps. Tied by ribbon knots, they represent time, but that much is obvious. What is more interesting is the aspect of time they could represent. Perhaps the moments in our lives when the hand of a watch stops functioning, capturing a special moment in a special place. Perhaps one of the watches has simply stopped due to the constant use, as it clicked and clacked as the artist moved through the same bus route to school for weeks. What can be said for certain is that time is used to denote a sense of truth to the self, an anchor that keeps in place a previous version of the self that can be lost to memory but never to the watches on the canvas.

In the middle of this string, in the middle of this canvas, in the middle of this daring presentation of the self, is a note. Written in red ink is the following: “NOTE TO SELF – through all space and time, i find my way back to you – c.f.m.” This is the zenith of the artwork, reader. The declaration of intent and meaning from the artist themselves, signed with initials. But it is also consistent with many interpretations. The artist could see their truest self in another person, and this note (alongside the watch and the maps) could be a statement as to how long it has taken for them to find their true self in so many places. The artist could be talking about themselves, reminiscing. They could also be talking about a future version of themselves, a figment of actualized self that they keep returning to as they venture on across space and time. Or maybe, the artist is leaving this note for us, allowing us to draw inspiration and be them for a moment, feeling all they felt as they made this piece.

I cannot claim to know the true intention of this piece. The artist provides a short, helpful blurb of their own alongside the work, as do all artists in this exhibition. One of my favorite artworks is Moon Boy on Time Out by Joseph Donato, which replaces all semblance of the artist with a Guillermo Del Toro-like puppet monster with a dunce hat on his head. He bleeds as he eats a fragment of his own head, blood seeping from his lips. The artist’s blurb adds to the allure as well, as it serves as a mini-lore drop on the inner workings of this despondent monster and his lack of self-care – an allusion to how badly we treat the good in us, especially our childhood selves. Blurbs like these are attached to the artwork, a ripple meant to still some wandering thoughts by allowing the author to clearly state their purpose.

But still I wander, reader. I wander because following the many depictions of self on display in this exhibition is overpowering. Full of creativity, introspection, and emotional vulnerability, the artists present themselves through their art but allow the self to evolve into something more unstable, complex, and at the same time, more true.

And isn’t that what we all want, reader? To be seen for our truest selves?

Dear Me, was opened from January 15 to 26, 2024.

Dear Me, Welcome To The Truest Self.

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