The Eden Project by Anna Torma
Trying something a bit different here.
I’m trying a new thing today because I don’t feel like writing a full-length essay. And I’m guessing that sometimes you don’t feel like reading one. Also, I suck at getting a longer piece done before an exhibition is over. So today, I’m sharing notes I took at the gallery and tried not to edit too much. Let’s call them Field Notes. I want to share ahead of weekends, for shows that are currently on, so you can check them out. Let me know if you like the format.
Anna Torma [link]
The Eden Project
Clint Roenisch [link]
6 February - 22 March, 2025
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Stepping in to Clint Roenisch gallery, I am reminded that they’ve carved out a unique place in Toronto art. The entrance is welcoming, with a collection of thriving plants and an invitation to sit and read. The room smells like spring.
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Further to the plants, there are books, objects, sculptures strewn about the entryway, and a rotating art selection from the gallery roster, which has a folk art bent. This all contributes to the notion of a community space which serves to pass stories along. It’s a counterpoint to my essay Leaving the White Cube — a reminder that prestigious gallery spaces can be made accessible.
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A high-school-aged procession passes through the gallery, led by a few teachers. I love watching the teenagers observe the art. Many are disinterested, chatting in circles or alone in corners on TikTok. About one-third take a genuine interest, making unfiltered observations, connections to objects in their lives, or expressing their perplexity without embarrassment.
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A melancholy-seeming boy stands in front of a piece for several minutes, posing as if he has unique insights (maybe he does!). He looks around shiftily to see if anyone is watching. My spirit animal.
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Entering the show, I am immediately drawn to the embroidery works by Anna Torma. The work feels uplifting. Lush plants and animals, figurines, cute words and memories, jumbled together. A depiction of a youthful processing of the world and, within that, an enthusiasm for the whole of it, a momentary forgetting. Do you remember that feeling? is my inevitable thought. No doubt emphasized by the din of chatty teenagers, now filing out of the gallery space and returning it to silence.
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The work incites a feeling of being home, or homebound. It reminds you of the endless source material that allows the feeling to zap you. Walking past your elementary school in the city you grew up. The whiff of a certain perfume or the right combination of light. Catching a flash of yourself in your niece’s face or the peculiar way your father does something.
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Star.
Moon.
Love is nice.
Love is true.
Love is red.
Love is blue.
Declarative little notes that you might find in the liners of a grade-school duotang. Who can deny them. And what a strange word duotang is. They’re probably extinct by now anyway.
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To have one of these pieces in my home, to have these wholesome objects to look at and find new details in every day, would be such a pleasure. I don’t dare ask for the price.
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In the randomness of the shapes and objects included, it feels like the artist has allowed everything from their history into these singular expressions. It’s decidedly not “curated” and this gives an authentic feel.
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The monochrome colour structure pulls the chaos together. It becomes a declaration: this is who I was at the moment of creation – this is the shade I filtered my past through. There is an endless well of moments, endless ways to cast them from a new angle and define the present.
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An urgency to take it all in. No two days will ever look the same.
I appreciate the Field Notes for a quick read every so often :)