Imagine an art exhibit where the biting winds of winter aren't just felt, but seen, experienced, and understood through the eyes of diverse cultures. The National Gallery of Canada's new exhibit, "Winter Count: Embracing the Cold," does just that, exploring the profound impact of winter across Indigenous, Canadian, and European art. But here's where it gets controversial... it challenges our perceptions of winter, not just as a season, but as a fundamental aspect of identity and history.
As Indigenous artist Duane Linklater poignantly notes, in Cree culture, asking someone's age translates to "How many winters are you?" This simple phrase encapsulates the idea that each of us is, in essence, "half winter," shaped by the cyclical rhythm of the cold months. This concept forms the basis of Linklater's stunning series of oversized hide-shaped hangings. These aren't just decorations; they're a modern interpretation of the winter count, a traditional pictographic system used by Plains nations to record history. Each year, from the first snowfall to the next, a significant event was immortalized as a symbol on a hide, creating a visual timeline of their collective experience.
"Winter Count" boldly establishes Indigenous presence and perspective in the land now known as Canada. The exhibit begins with a powerful section dedicated to Indigenous storytelling, highlighting their deep connection to the land and its seasons. While the exhibit includes some settler depictions of winter, such as Cornelius Krieghoff’s lively "Crossing the Ice with the Royal Mail, Quebec" and William Kurelek’s stark "The Ukrainian Pioneer, no. 5" (depicting small figures lost in a vast, white expanse), it doesn't shy away from contrasting these perspectives. Wendy Red Star, an Apsáalooke photographer, powerfully reclaims Indigenous iconography by depicting herself as winter, directly challenging stereotypical representations of "exotic Indians."
And this is the part most people miss... the exhibit actively critiques the romanticized and often inaccurate portrayals of Indigenous peoples by early settler artists. Kent Monkman's satirical painting, "Charged Particles in Motion," delivers a sharp blow to Paul Kane's "Winter Travelling." Kane, known for his romanticized depictions of First Nations and Métis people in the mid-19th century, is directly challenged by Monkman's gender-fluid alter-ego, Miss Chief Testickle. In Monkman's version, Miss Chief Testickle, leading a dog team, playfully knocks over a hapless European trapper, whose team includes, rather humorously, a French poodle. This bold contrast highlights the often-unseen power dynamics and cultural biases present in historical depictions of winter life in Canada.
Organized by a collaborative team of curators from the National Gallery's Canadian, European, and Indigenous Ways and Decolonization departments, the exhibition then shifts its focus to a fascinating juxtaposition: Quebec winter scenes by renowned artists like Marc-Aurèle de Foy Suzor-Coté, Maurice Cullen, and James Wilson Morrice are displayed alongside rare Impressionist snowscapes by Claude Monet and Camille Pissarro. You might be thinking, "Monet? Snow?" But even the master of water lilies was captivated by winter's unique beauty. While primarily known for his landscapes of Giverny, Monet's occasional encounters with harsh winters near Paris, coupled with an 1895 trip to Norway, provided him with ample opportunities to study the interplay of light on snow and ice.
Interestingly, many find the Canadian artists hold their own, even surpassing the Impressionists in capturing the essence of a Canadian winter. But what's truly remarkable is the sheer breadth of work the National Gallery has assembled. Of the 164 pieces on display, only 48 come from the gallery's permanent collection. The rest are significant loans from private collections, as well as Scandinavian and American museums, demonstrating the collaborative spirit behind the exhibition.
Within the Impressionist gallery, you'll also find a piece by Norwegian artist Frits Thaulow, depicting the Seine in Paris under an unusually heavy snowfall in 1893. Thaulow cleverly capitalized on the weather, exporting his snowscape painting skills to the eager French market, who also admired Quebec snow scenes by artists like Morrice and Clarence Gagnon. This reveals a fascinating artistic exchange, hinting at another show within the show: the interconnectedness of Impressionism in France and Canada, and the divergent approaches to landscape painting in Scandinavia and Canada.
There are subtle comparisons to the Group of Seven, perhaps most notably in the pairing of Lawren Harris’s "Snow II" with Gustaf Edolf Fjæstad’s "Winter Brook." In these instances, the Scandinavian artists' more detailed, pointillist, and often more naturalistic style is somewhat overshadowed by the Group of Seven's bolder commitment to modernism. This raises a question: Does a commitment to modernism always equate to a superior depiction of nature?
"Winter Count" isn't just about the technical aspects of painting winter – the light, the snow, the Northern Lights, the move toward abstraction. It's also about the social and cultural significance of winter, as reflected in art. A section on community and isolation features Inuit prints and drawings depicting winter games, set against urban street scenes from Quebec and Jack Chambers’s poignant "Sunday Morning No. 2." This masterpiece, on loan from a private collection, captures the essence of a winter morning in suburban Ontario, showing Chambers' sons watching TV in their pajamas, with a view of snow-covered streets outside their window. It perfectly encapsulates the unique quality of winter light filtering into a home.
Here, Indigenous and settler perspectives truly converge, creating a dialogue about shared experiences and different realities. Perhaps the most provocative space in the exhibition is where Harris's "Snow II" and Fjæstad's "Winter Brook" face a series of intricately crafted Métis winter coats and a stunning floral Inuit parka. The clothing, with its emphasis on the human body and the practical need for warmth, feels like a direct response to Harris's lofty quote painted on the wall: "We are on the fringe of the great North and its living whiteness, its loneliness and replenishment, its resignations and release, its call and answer, its cleansing rhythms." This juxtaposition forces us to consider: Is Harris's romantic vision of the North accessible to everyone, or does it overlook the lived experiences of those who must contend with its harsh realities?
The exhibition concludes by examining the move toward abstraction, a natural progression in snowscapes, which often lend themselves to the simplification of detail. Harris's iconic iceberg views are thoughtfully balanced by Doris McCarthy’s "Iceberg Fantasy Before Bylot," a landscape glimpsed through transparent icebergs. And, surprisingly, the exhibition features works by Canadian artist Anne Savage alongside those of Wassily Kandinsky, often considered the father of abstract art. Kandinsky's pivotal "Murnau with Locomotive" shares a similar surprising color palette of pinks and oranges with Savage’s "Laurentian scene of 1922-24."
If you've been wondering what the National Gallery has been focusing on lately, amidst perceived political controversies, "Winter Count" provides a resounding answer. This vast and ambitious exhibition, when its two core concepts – the artistic representation of winter and its social and cultural implications – come together, is a truly powerful and thought-provoking experience.
"Winter Count" is on display at the National Gallery of Canada in Ottawa until March 22. What do you think? Does this exhibit successfully bridge the gap between artistic expression and cultural understanding? And does it challenge your own perception of winter and its impact? Share your thoughts in the comments below!
