Musings on a gallery -- and they ain't good

I do not consider myself to be a fine art connoisseur because I’m not well enough educated in the field. Anyway, I don’t always trust so-called connoisseurs because I find them pretentious, and their views are invariably a matter of opinion – like, I think a lot of Chagall’s later stuff is cluttered and unappealing, but that’s just me. And, I do think it is fair to say: “I know what I like.”

But, I worked as a fine arts editor for a number of years, and I dabble in painting myself. My work isn’t necessarily good, but I do it for me and I like it, and I like improving my techniques. So, I am an art ‘buff’ if not a connoisseur.

When I travel, one of my genuine joys has always been to visit galleries. More than museums, galleries make the history of a place come alive, for me. Paintings (more than sculptures) are organic things, and I can picture the hands of Monet turning out what I see before me. That individual stroke was made be the actual Degas. You know what I mean. So, needless to say, when in Europe, the galleries beckon with the seductive allure of a Lorelei.

That said, I must now suggest that I visited a gallery right here yesterday that was not only a grievous disappointment, but that I also felt thoroughly ripped-off. First, let me suggest that Victoria (where I live part time) is a small city that is thoroughly stuck on itself. It believes its own mythology at an unrealistic level, and a body only needs to stay here for a while to realize there is an ugly underbelly to the place.

That’s not to say it’s a terrible place. Parts are most appealing for a berg of this size. It’s just not quite what it tries to suggest to tourists that it is.

Anyway, Victoria has an art gallery called, appropriately enough, the Victoria Art Gallery. Not to be too judgmental about the place, it stinks. In the first place, it costs $12 to get in – which is an outrageous tab considering the collection. Quite frankly, I thought the collection was, for a place of this size (and pretension) amazingly lackluster.

The only paintings really worth looking at were those of (the sometimes terribly overrated, as in there has never been another British Columbia artist of note) Emily Carr. Some of her stuff is good. Some of it is so-so. Otherwise, absolutely nothing in the gallery justified the charge to get in. One gallery, for example, was devoted to the works of a moderately notable photographer. Three or four of his offerings would have been sufficient to illustrate his oeuvre, rather than 20 or 30. There was a moderately interesting display focusing on women in traditional and modern Japanese art. And there was a chamber in which a vast array of paintings on various subjects was available for $300 a pop. There was no bio info, no titles given to the paintings and, with no exaggeration, your 10th grade kid his done better stuff in his or her high school art classes.

The city of Grenoble in southern France is about the same size as Victoria. I devoured the gallery there. It took me hours and hours to make two separate tours of the place, and I still didn’t do it justice. And, if you think I am being a Euro-snob about this, I’m not. I’ve been to galleries in California and even Hawaii that are amazing. The Vancouver Art Gallery, just across the water from Victoria, need not hang its head in shame. I’ve been to some wonderful showings there, and their static collection is superb.

Victoria should be ashamed. That’s what I think.