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Artworld Magazine
Montreal, Quebec
Picard : The Mastermind Behind the Brush
Maurice Cabanne
I
came across an article by Chris Bennett in an edition of “Art Notes”
magazine. The article was written about Vancouver artist, James Picard
and in it, Bennett describes Picard as, “a breath of fresh air in
a stifled room of comatose artists…..” He describes Picard
as one who has “acquired knowledge before their time.” He
talks about range, scope, passion and talent that “demands…a
respect from the viewer.” He hints at a rare ability. The article
left me with the impression that Picard may be on to something and I was
particularly intrigued by the reference to an endless source of inspiration
that Picard is quoted as saying, has gone from a fire to an Inferno since
November 1, 1994.” Chris Bennett points to the fact that no explanation
was offered to account for this shift.
I have a deep and unsatisfied curiosity about the internal mechanisms that drive the creative process. I also have some opinions about it. In the hope of getting a little light cast on the subject, I arranged an interview with James Picard.
We met early on a weekday morning at a coffee bar on Commercial Drive in Vancouver. I was expecting an easy and perhaps elevated conversation that would coolly examine the dynamics of the creative personality. I was in no way prepared for the mind bending, roller coaster ride that would slam me into an avalanche.
James Picard is an intense, boisterous, dramatic, rollicking and highly sensitive personality. He has a presence that conjures images: a court jester, Rasputin, nightclub bouncer, Mafia hit-man, Hasidic scholar. And what this guy doesn’t know about art, probably isn’t known anywhere. Without putting too fine a point on it, art is his life.
As we settle into the conversation, he passes me a slide sheet that presents a cross-section of his work – some very recent oils, drawings and sculpture. I look at these and am confused – why are these Rembrandts and Raphael’s included in his samplings? Picard corrects my mistake. It is all his work.
I am stunned into disbelief. This is impossible. Each piece is dramatically different from the others and equal in its power. The level of mastery is amazing. I think of Picasso and wonder if anyone until now has achieved the same degree of competence in such a vast range of artistic styles and mediums – and these are just the slides!
A close examination of work produced in the classical style puts me right up against what I’ve come here to discover: how the machine works, what drives it. These paintings are more than reminiscent of past masters; this is more than what I’d call copy art. It’s as though Picard moves through time, backward, forward and is completely absorbed wherever he is. I ask him about it. How does he do it?
Unknowingly, I have invited Mount Vesuvius to erupt. Picard thunders and spews for almost an hour. I write furiously and I get what I came for.
Picard goes where his passion takes him and it takes him everywhere. He leaps fences and pushes boundaries; it doesn’t occur to him that he might not gain entry and it’s never about simply “trying”. It isn’t that he moves through time but rather that time moves through him. It is said that every artist responds to the call of a muse; if that is so, then James Picard is possessed by all nine! It’s about blood and blindness - creating from the gut and seeing nothing else.
As Picard continues to thunder, I recall Chris Bennett’s image of him in contrast to those “comatose artists who sit around sipping cappuccino and discuss that thin line between arts and crafts”. I think about complacency, the safety net and art as a commodity. I nudge Picard in that direction and listen carefully.
With all his voices, James Picard is challenging us. He begs us in fact, to move out of the artistic doldrums; to stop believing in our own press. Art no longer reflects the truth of society. Like so many aspects of our culture, art has been co-opted. It is a trade commodity – creativity with a view to the buyer.
Today’s art, passionless, time-framed and worked into the schedule; waiting for the next commission; tripping over the egos of agents and gallery owners; beckoning to the egos of the hangers on and would be patrons. Anyone and everyone who owns a box of crayons is buying into the trippy-trendy artists’ lofts” that glut the market. Cafes on every corner pulsing with black-clad, horn-rimmed conversation about the work in progress, who’s selling, who’s not, who’s hustling who.
What does that suggest to you? Picard tells us how it is; a desperate need for identity. Looking for some element of a more meaningful self buried in the creative process.
“An artist” states Picard, “is like a basket or receptacle of some kind or another. It collects emotions, images, shapes lines, scraps of paper, news articles and the odd martini glass from Vegas. Then one picks these things out or in my case grabs them as they flow over the edge and creates. Every piece is different however and that is where most artists get caught up in repetition. You cannot as an artist constantly repeat yourself and yet that is what they do. They get an images from the creative bin, use it, find it works well and then use it over and over…it drives me crazy as I see this occurring in the art world all the time. An artist must never copy himself. If you look at my work it is all different yet it all comes from the same place.”
Without warning, Picard’s fist strikes the table. I am now finding shivers running up and down my spine, Picard is the genuine article. Suddenly we are interrupted by a group at the table next to us who have been attentively observing Picard’s verbal onslaught. Picard’s demeanor suddenly changes.
He calms down enough to acknowledge their presence. All three politely praise the maestro’s performance and, like I have witnessed first hand, all three have been pulled into the clutches of his gargantuan creative power. One can only imagine what it is like when unleashed in front of a canvas.
We eventually leave the café and I say good-bye knowing that this is not the last I will see of Picard. As he leaves you can almost feel the energy following him as if it knows that Picard has the ability to bring it to life. Again I feel a chill makes its way through my spine, which has become a common occurrence today.
I watch as he radiates through the crowd then disappears and that’s when it hits me. I feel depleted yet at the same time, strangely full of vitality. I use this energy to quickly get home and work on the article. I call Picard twice through the evening for clarification. My first call is answered with a brief but warm-hearted statement. “I can’t talk now I’m painting!” The second call was not answered. I finished the article non-the-less, without ever knowing the significance of the November first connection.
I have had the privilege of speaking to Picard on several occasions since our first meeting and each time I am genuinely impressed with his dedication and commitment. Canadian film director Christopher Hooper, has since made a documentary film about Picard entitled, James Picard: Off the Canvas which has been airing on Bravo television and can be borrowed from your local public library or ordered on line at www.trifectamedia.com and Picard himself is still creating …as always. When we last spoke he was showing some recent works in England, finishing up a commission in Los Angeles and exhibiting and doing art workshops in New York. It seems his energy is now touching the world, which is fitting for an artist who incessantly gives back to us what he receives.
Maurice Cabanne is a Montreal based freelance writer and critic.