Subversive curation
Crying Over Spilt Tea, curated by Grace Braniff, assistant curator of art at WAG-Qaumajuq, was inspired by two idioms: 'spill the tea,' a phrase from Black drag culture that refers to the subversive sharing of gossip or the revealing of secrets — a.k.a. piping-hot tea, or 'T,' as in truth — and 'no use crying over spilled milk' which refers to the futility of getting upset over something that can't be changed or undone.
A Matter of Time, curated by Nawang Tsomo Kinkar, TD curatorial fellow, explores the concept of spiral time, the idea that time, despite having the tidy grid of the modern calendar imposed on it, is non-linear and cyclical.
MIKAELA MACKENZIE / FREE PRESS
Curators Nawang Tsomo Kinkar (left) and Grace Braniff at a preview of the two new shows Crying Over Spilt Tea and a matter of time, both of which display works from Winnipeg Art Gallery's vast collection.
Both exhibitions draw from the gallery's nearly 30,000-piece permanent collection.
'It is a lot to choose from,' Braniff acknowledges. 'My strategy is to try to narrow in on a very specific idea, and then do a survey of our collection and see what artworks fit in with that idea. And I think tea and gossip, they are very specific, but they're also universal experiences that everyone has a connection to.'
When you walk into Crying Over Spilt Tea, you are immediately greeted by a massive wall of bone-china teaware, most of it from the United Kingdom. On the opposite wall is Afternoon Tea (The Gossips), a work by British painter Sir John Everett Millais.
The painting shows three cherub-faced little girls (and a pet pug), leaning in close at a tea party, play-acting as grown-up women. But it also functions as a comment on how silly and non-essential gossip was (and is) treated by society — as in, a thing for little girls in bows — because God forbid women share their oral histories.
'Often feminized and racialized people have used gossip as a means to kind of confront authority or to share their own narratives and information outside of what the main conversation is all about,' Braniff says. 'This teaware, the pug — both imported into the United Kingdom from China — I don't think it's a coincidence that they're framed with these girls who are doing this 'frivolous' thing, like gossiping.'
MIKAELA MACKENZIE / FREE PRESS
Curator Grace Braniff 's new exhibition, Crying Over Spilt Tea, at WAG-Qaumajuq draws from the gallery's huge permanent collection.
In addition to the main themes of tea (and its cultural and colonial symbolism), gossip and truths, Braniff also wanted to explore the idea of virality.
'Because when we're talking about idioms, they take on this viral trajectory and through that virality, there's this disconnection, I feel, from their origins. And there, in its representations, we don't see that gesture to its places of origin or the places it was grown in,' Braniff says.
She is referring to the now-viral phrase from Black drag culture that gives the exhibition its name and has been heavily co-opted online, but one could make the same argument about tea itself.
Like the whisper networks of women before her using gossip to subvert the narrative, Braniff also uses subversion in her curation. On the flip side of the bone-china teaware display is Buffalo Bone China, a 1997 video/found-object installation by Hunkpapa Lakota filmmaker, photographer and performance artist Dana Claxton, whose centrepiece is a heap of smashed bone-china teaware on the floor.
'So, the things we see on the front wall we see back here, broken and crushed up. Dana Claxton was making a commentary on state-sanctioned extermination or eradication of buffalo as a means of control and oppression of Plains Indigenous Peoples,' Braniff says.
MIKAELA MACKENZIE / FREE PRESS
Curator Grace Braniff gives a tour of a vault at the Winnipeg Art Gallery.
During that period in the 19th century, buffalo bones were shipped across the Atlantic to England, where they were made into bone china. Braniff says Claxton is teasing out the complicated history of that material, while also taking apart an item we might see as a simple teacup and exploring its full narrative.
Crying Over Spilt Tea also includes numerous pieces of contemporary Inuit art, including Tarralik Duffy's 2023 work Red Rose, a repeating pop-art motif of Red Rose tea boxes, and Annie Pootoogook's circa 2001-02 coloured-pencil drawing The Tea Drinkers, which is also featured outside the gallery on a billboard at the corner of Sherbrook Street and Portage Avenue.
For A Matter of Time, Kinkar leaned into the creative challenge of building a show out of a massive permanent collection.
'I think my approach has been a little bit more playful and about experimentation and creativity and seeing what is in the collection that hasn't been shown in a long time,' she says
Circles and spirals figure prominently in the works on view, but not necessarily in the ways that are obvious; the room also makes use of curved inset walls, so the gallery space doesn't feel as angular.
MIKAELA MACKENZIE / FREE PRESS
Curatorial fellow Nawang Tsomo Kinkar says circles and spirals have surfaced across different time periods and cultures.
The symbol of the spiral has surfaced across different time periods and cultures, Kinkar says.
'We can trace it back to the Neolithic era. It's also been found in rock carvings and Indigenous sites across the Americas. It's been utilized by artists in the later half of the 20th century, specifically in the United States who were involved in movements of abstract art and social art but they're also rooted in other global traditions of mark making,' she says.
'But one thing that I think remains constant, and one thing that the exhibition is trying to build upon, is that the spiral is steeped in deep symbolism.'
There are a few entry points onto a matter of time — which is also by design — but if you come into the exhibition from Crying Over Spilt Tea, you'll be met by two juxtaposed works.
Wednesdays
Columnist Jen Zoratti looks at what's next in arts, life and pop culture.
Look up and suspended from the ceiling is Waiting for the Shaman, a 2017 work by Inuvialuk artist Maureen Gruben constructed from polar bear paw bones she has found over the years on beaches. The bones are arranged in concentric circles and encased in clear resin, giving it the appearance that they are encased in sea ice. A space has been left open in the circle for the shaman.
MIKAELA MACKENZIE / FREE PRESS
Curator Grace Braniff speaks about the new exhibit, Crying Over Spilt Tea, at the Winnipeg Art Gallery.
'She's really drawing here from aspects of traditional gatherings in Inuit communities that revolve around teaching and drumming circles, this aspect of being connected to community and being connected to Inuit ways of being, specifically ancestral time,' Kinkar says.
Across from Gruben's work is an 18th-century fresco by Johann Januarius Zick, depicting angels in a spiraling swirl of clouds, a space left open in the centre for the Holy Trinity. It's meant for a church ceiling, but Kinkar has it displayed on a podium as if on an easel.
'I really wanted to have that effect when you come into the space through that entrance, looking up at Maureen Gruben and then being drawn to this circular wall with the gold, and then looking down here and being pulled and drawn to this imagery.'
jen.zoratti@freepress.mb.ca
MIKAELA MACKENZIE / FREE PRESS
A vault housing some of the Winnipeg Art Gallery's collection
Jen ZorattiColumnist
Jen Zoratti is a columnist and feature writer working in the Arts & Life department, as well as the author of the weekly newsletter NEXT. A National Newspaper Award finalist for arts and entertainment writing, Jen is a graduate of the Creative Communications program at RRC Polytech and was a music writer before joining the Free Press in 2013. Read more about Jen.
Every piece of reporting Jen produces is reviewed by an editing team before it is posted online or published in print – part of the Free Press's tradition, since 1872, of producing reliable independent journalism. Read more about Free Press's history and mandate, and learn how our newsroom operates.
Our newsroom depends on a growing audience of readers to power our journalism. If you are not a paid reader, please consider becoming a subscriber.
Our newsroom depends on its audience of readers to power our journalism. Thank you for your support.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Winnipeg Free Press
a day ago
- Winnipeg Free Press
Hulk Hogan's death resurfaces painful contradictions for Black wrestling fans
One of Kazeem Famuyide's earliest memories is sitting on his father's lap watching Hulk Hogan wrestle in the 1988 Survivor Series. His love of Hogan in the ring became inextricable from what would become a lifelong obsession with the sport — including a yearlong role touring the country and writing scripts for WWE's top talent. 'He was a superhero to a lot of people, including myself,' said Famuyide, who is Black and now co-hosts the WWE-themed podcast 'The Ringer Wrestling Show.' He remembers Hogan telling audiences to 'train, say your prayers and eat your vitamins,' often in front of giant American flags. But for the 38-year-old Famuyide and other Black wrestling fans and sports commentators, Hogan's death this week at 71 has resurfaced an irreconcilable contradiction in the iconic wrestler's legacy: Hogan's undeniable role in broadening wrestling's appeal to fans of all backgrounds versus his well-documented racism. 'You never really got the feeling that Hulk Hogan truly felt remorse,' Famuyide said. Reactions to Hogan's death reflect American divide on race 'The Right Time' podcast host Bomani Jones noted there were two sharply different reactions to Hogan's death. Remembrances have split between those who see no need to harp on past controversies and those who struggle with his behavior that got once got him banned from the WWE. 'This was never going to be one where people were going to mourn quietly,' Jones said. Hogan's death drew remembrances from politicians, celebrities and fans alike, celebrating his accolades. Many applauded how he was able to parlay his wrestling persona into movie appearances, brand deals, a reality television show and notable political influence. On Friday, Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson, whose fame arguably rivals Hogan's acclaim, paid tribute. Johnson, the son of pioneering wrestler Rocky Johnson, one of the WWE's first Black champions, said Hogan was a hero 'to millions of little kids.' 'You may have 'passed the torch' to me,' Johnson wrote under a 2002 video showing him and Hogan facing off at Wrestlemania. 'But you, my friend…you 'drew the house' meaning you sold out every arena and stadium across the country in your prime as Hulk Hogan, on your way of becoming the greatest of all time.' Other notable Black professional wrestlers, from Booker T and Mark Henry, to Jacqueline Moore and Carlene 'Jazz' Moore-Begnaud, have found success and fame in the WWE. But just as many people took Hogan's death as an opportunity to regale Hogan's more controversial behavior. In 2016, a Florida jury awarded Hogan over $115 million against Gawker Media, after Hogan sued them for posting a video of him having sex with his former best friend's wife. The litigation led to the discovery that Hogan had used racial slurs in 2007 to describe his daughter's Black ex-boyfriend. 'I am a racist, to a point,' Hogan said, before adding the slur against Black people, according to a transcript. Hogan apologized at the time and called the language 'unacceptable.' Around the same time, some outlets reported that Hogan used the same slur on a recorded phone call with his son. Hogan's enthusiastic endorsement of conservative political figures like longtime friend President Donald Trump made many people doubt the sincerity of that apology, Jones said. 'It's one thing to get caught on tape saying these things in private. It's another thing for you to decide publicly to align yourself with a cause that many Black people find antagonistic toward us,' Jones said. Professional wrestling has a history of reckoning on racist tropes For many Black wrestling enthusiasts, Hogan's death brings up familiar contradictions in how the sport deals with race. Lyric Swinton, 27, a freelance wrestling writer, first fell in love with the sport when she was 8. She describes wrestling as 'the most nuanced and colorful' form of storytelling. Although she feels representation has improved, Swinton remembers WWE use racist tropes in Black wrestlers' plot lines. Swinton recalls Shelton Benjamin having a 'mammy,' played by Thea Vidale, invoking a racist caricature. Swinton considers Benjamin one of the most talented wrestlers at the time, but feels he never got the recognition that his contemporaries did, in part because he was scripted to those roles. 'I kind of felt like I had to check my Blackness at the door,' she said. Hogan hasn't tarnished sport for all Black fans For WWE enthusiast and sports journalist Master Tesfatsion, the mixed reactions to Hogan's death mirror fault lines that exist throughout the country, and highlight how central wrestling has become in pop culture. Growing up, Tesfatsion, who is Black, remembers watching Vince McMahon, the company's co-founder and former chairman, use a racial slur in a match with John Cena in 2005; or the storyline in 2004 when wrestler John Layfield chased Mexicans across the border. Weekly A weekly look at what's happening in Winnipeg's arts and entertainment scene. 'In some strange way, the WWE always had a pulse on where America stood,' Tesfatsion said. 'You cannot tell the history of America without all these issues, just like you cannot tell the history of the WWE without these issues.' Tesfatsion was in the audience at Hogan's last appearance at a professional match in January. He was one of the many who booed Hogan. After decades of fandom, it was his first time seeing Hogan live. 'I never thought that I would see 'The Hulk' in person, and that I would resort to bullying him. But that's what his actions made me do.' Still, Tesfatsion said he will never stop being a super fan. 'I still love America, I still love the WWE. It's an emotional contradiction that I choose to deal with because I still find value in it,' he said.
CTV News
4 days ago
- CTV News
How did the ‘Prince of Darkness' impact the music industry?
Watch Music commentator Eric Alper says the 'world is a lot more boring' following the death of heavy metal legend and Black Sabbath singer Ozzy Osbourne.
CBC
4 days ago
- CBC
Toronto musicians pay tribute to Black Sabbath frontman and 'lord of metal' Ozzy Osbourne
Ozzy Osbourne, legendary frontman of the rock band Black Sabbath, "opened doors" for people who wanted to play heavy metal, Toronto musicians said following news of his death. Osbourne died Tuesday morning at the age of 76, his family said in a statement. No cause of death has been provided, but Osbourne disclosed five years ago that he had been diagnosed with Parkinson's disease. His death comes more than two weeks after his final show on July 5 in Birmingham, U.K., where he performed while sitting on a throne. He and the original members of Black Sabbath reunited for the concert in front of about 42,000 fans. Members of tribute bands and experts on rock music in Toronto said Osbourne had a major impact on music. Jaye Schwarzer, bass guitarist for the Toronto-based punk rock band Cancer Bats said Osbourne had a "distinct and unique" voice that wasn't found in pop music when he came onto the scene, which made him stand out. "He's the lord of metal. He's the prince of darkness. He made it cool to not conform," Schwarzer said on Tuesday. WATCH | Ozzy Osbourne performs in Birmingham: See Ozzy Osbourne play final show, weeks before his death 4 hours ago 'A different approach to music' Cancer Bats, using the name Bat Sabbath, have performed as a Black Sabbath tribute band. Schwarzer said it was special to see Black Sabbath twice. Schwarzer said when Black Sabbath was becoming known, pop bands such as the Bee Gees were big. "Nobody sounded dark and evil like they did," he said. "And so, it just opened doors for people with a different approach to music to say, you can do this." Osbourne rose to prominence in the late 1960s with Black Sabbath, becoming known as the father of heavy metal. In the 1980s, he launched a successful solo career. He became infamous for biting the head off a bat on stage and for his drug-fuelled lifestyle. He later reinvented himself as a lovable, but foul-mouthed, reality TV star with his family. 'He championed heavy metal for the masses' Roland Murray, a guitar player for The Ozzy Experience, an Ozzy Osbourne Black Sabbath tribute band based in Toronto, said he was "devastated" to hear that Osbourne had died. "He championed heavy metal for the masses," Murray said. "Rest in peace, Ozzy. I'm going to miss you. People around the world are going to miss you." 'The metal equivalent of Elvis Presley dying' Alan Cross, host of The Ongoing History of New Music, a music history documentary radio program in Canada produced by Corus Entertainment, said Osbourne's legacy cannot be underestimated and his impact on the music industry is undeniable. "This is the metal equivalent of Elvis Presley dying. This is how big a deal it was. Ozzy was this character who has been with us since 1969. He survived a billion things that would have killed anybody else. In the meantime, he and Black Sabbath helped invent a brand new style of music known as heavy metal," Cross said. "That style of music has influenced countless bands over the last 50 years. And Ozzy himself became a star, a solo star, with a sound of his own in the 1980s, 1990s. And then he became this TV star, and really, if you want to look at it, a pioneer of reality television," he added. "One of the things about Ozzy is, no matter where he went, he was adored and people loved him." Osbourne is survived by wife and manager Sharon; five children, including Jack, Kelly and Aimee; and several grandchildren.
