Published in FFWD Weekly, May 19, 2011
http://www.ffwdweekly.com/article/arts/visual-arts/truth-and-lies-7464/
"Istoria" - New paintings by Carl White on view at Jarvis Hall Fine Art until June 25.
  
http://www.ffwdweekly.com/article/arts/visual-arts/truth-and-lies-7464/
"Istoria" - New paintings by Carl White on view at Jarvis Hall Fine Art until June 25.
Calgary-based  painter Carl White finds it amusing that Herodotus, a fifth century BC  Greek historian, is known as both the father of history and, ironically,  of lies. It is well known that he could not resist telling a good  story, even — and, one suspects, especially — if it was not true.
White’s  new body of work features fragments of different points in history, but  like Herodotus, he’s no stickler for accuracy. “I am not so interested  in whether the stories are true,” he says, “I’m interested in whether  they resonate with us in some way.”
His  disregard for facts seems contradictory considering his fascination  with history, stemming from an intense curiosity as a child and a quest  for truth. But the tactic of using lies to reveal a deeper human truth  should not surprise us — after all, isn’t that what myths, legends,  fables and folklore are for?
Istoria is  an art historian’s treasure trove: Rich in iconography and mythological  narratives, it has a way of teasing history buffs, providing them with  visual cues and hints in the titles of what they are looking at, without  giving it away. This level of ambiguity relieves his work of the  pretentiousness that might normally be associated with this type of art.
Featuring  what appears to be Greek or Roman portrait busts and majestic  equestrian horses with ghostly remnants of the riders that once rode  them, White’s paintings are essentially artifacts that speak to us  through the layers of paint — ones that have become so intertwined it is  almost impossible to determine where one begins and another one ends. 
Like walking through Roman ruins, one can imagine the artifacts in that heyday. But White has no interest in displaying them in a flattering light.
“Perfection  is boring,” he says. “I came to the realization that there’s a  difference between making pretty pictures and making art.”
Plato  and Aristotle believed that for a piece of art to hold significance or  persuasion for an audience, it must be grounded in “verisimilitude,” meaning  how much something resembles truth, reality or likeness to nature.  White’s art is certainly grounded in this, but he sees little merit in  realism for realism’s sake:
“What’s  the point of mimicking reality, when I can just go and see the real  thing and it is so much better than a rendition of it?” Instead, he  believes in creating images that transcend; in other words, images where  the whole equals more than the sum of its parts.
Full  of dualities and paradoxes — fantasy versus reality, evil versus good,  historic versus modern, pristine versus tarnished, defeat versus  triumph, aggressive versus fragile, White’s pieces serve as a reminder  of what we are all capable of being. In his paintings’ frailty and  imperfections, we see our own humanity, and in their beauty and  grandeur, we see our — perhaps as of yet — undiscovered potential.
But  despite the rich allegorical and historical references, White’s work is  unmistakably contemporary in its execution. The subject matter may  evoke painters of another era, but his expressive brushstrokes,  spontaneous and at times violent splashes of exuberant colours, glossy  finishes and drips of paint left to their own devices, along with his  signature scriptural markings, are White’s — and White’s alone.
When  asked about his process, the artist says he paints quickly. “Each layer  feeds the next. I see the skin of the canvas as paint. Just as we  humans pick up wrinkles, scars and bruises on our skin as we go through  life, so do these works of art.”
Believing  wholeheartedly in the integrity of the line, White strives to paint in  an authentic way, but says this requires a willingness to not see the  works as precious. For him, it is the act of painting that is important,  not the painting itself. This explains his carefreeness in applying an  almost Jackson Pollock approach in his final layers, without regard for  spoiling the image beneath. Letting go of this attachment generates an  authentic energy that would not be possible with even the slightest  apprehension.

 
 
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