An Original Work by Nathalie Bujold for the MMFA’s Digital Canvas

Created using a video synthesizer, one of the earliest instruments used in live performance video art, Pixels, Petit Point and Monument is an homage at once to the history of video art and to the histories of abstract painting and textile creation. In Bujold’s work, lines round to curves and then complete circles, morphing into digital compositions uncanny in their painterly qualities and their capacity to conjure the texture of tapestry.

Nathalie Bujold. Photo Emma Ongman

Born in Gaspésie, Nathalie Bujold lives and works in Montreal. Her art has been exhibited widely across Canada and internationally. She has received numerous accolades, including the Artistic Creation Award from the Conseil des arts et lettres du Québec and the René-Richard Award. In this interview, she tells us about her practice, at the confluence of artisanship and digital art, her sources of inspiration and the creative process behind Pixels, Petit Point and Monument.

Could you describe the genesis of this project for the MMFA’s Digital Canvas?

First off, the idea of a digital canvas appealed to me because it evokes textile, painting and video. The first questions that came to mind were, “How do I go about negotiating this very ornate architecture?” and “How can I be sure to tie in the building’s vocation?” At that moment, I was using a video synthesizer for a residency with Ed Video. I realized it was the ideal tool to create the kind of images I wanted, like some kind of fabric, with movement, patterns, abstraction, colours, light… It was a happy coincidence, I guess you could say. I dove in and put together collections – basing myself on a visual artist’s vocabulary, using forms, lines, patterns and movement… I separated it all into groups and then set about the montage in a linear fashion. This homage to painting evokes works by Seurat, Riley, Pollock, Newman, Oldenburg, Lichtenstein, Marisol, Letendre, Tousignant, Hurtubise, Riopelle, in the pixelated fragments, and Sullivan, of course, in the coloured squares. And then, there was also Steina and Woody Vasulka, who, for me, were the authority, along with Gilbert Boyer, in the use of video synthesizers.

The result is absolutely magnificent. You mention that Pixels, Petit Point and Monument resonates with paintings in our collection, but it is also in dialogue with works in the temporary exhibitions at the Museum this fall; specifically, Marisol: A Retrospective and Françoise Sullivan: “I let rhythms flow.” This is not the first time that your video work has borrowed from other media, like painting, knitting, fibre art… Where does this interest in crossing different art forms come from?

Thank you so much! Yes, it’s a good fit. My desire to merge art forms probably stems from the fact that I didn’t come directly from the visual arts world, but from the music world. And for me, video is the most eloquent means of expression, because it can combine all kinds of art, be it literature, music, painting that we’re trying to put into motion as well… Working with an art form that unfolds over time also interests me. What’s more, this “medium” was relatively new when I started; it was not yet available to artists working on their own, as is done in a studio. But shortly after, I had the chance to be there when video became more accessible, the tools became more affordable for artists, and I was able to work independently. So, it was a combination of circumstances specific to the time that led me to choose video.

Even though, strictly speaking, the work you created for the MMFA’s facade doesn’t have any music, it seems to me there’s a rhythmic, even musical quality to it. Was music on your mind when you made it?

Yes, but I didn’t allow myself to do the montage with music. Also, I could have used a soundtrack and “injected” it into the synthesizer, which would have produced images. But I imagined this projection specifically for those who would be passing in front of it, who would follow along with a sequence. I thought about urban transit time as opposed to an evolving thread with a beginning and an end, because I knew the artwork was meant to be something passersby could experience at any moment… So I chose to work in small, five-second fragments spread out over five minutes. It adds up to about 60 shots, give or take. I didn’t use any sound to make this video. However, when I finished it, I tested it with different types of music to see if it spurred the kind of lyrical flight I was looking for.

Normally, the music serves as the jumping-off point for the images or the montage, so if it works the other way around, that’s great! To make the overall movement more cohesive, more structured, I set out to tighten things up in the arrangement, sometimes changing the speed, direction or duration of the blending between the shots. I tried to bring out the “natural sequence” of each shot as much as possible, to let the movement take itself to its pivotal moment and then land in the next shot, like a choreography.

I’m glad you mention choreography because your work also evokes dancing.

The primary idea was to see paintings come alive, as if the curves, lines and colour could begin to form something else… like a dance!

Often, in your work, and it’s the case here, there’s a conversation of sorts between art and craft, high culture and popular culture. Can you speak about the cultural specificity of the references your work makes?

I come from Gaspésie at a time when museums and galleries were rare. So when I was young, I didn’t have access to art in that way. But I grew up surrounded by craftwork that my mother would make with neighbours, aunts, etc. Textile is important in my family. My grandmother was a milliner, and I even have an aunt who hosted a sewing show on TV! So, I was exposed to something other than art, something on the periphery, if you will, and that continues to be a part of my work today. I’m trying to connect with people who aren’t necessarily familiar with art and those who are knowledgeable about it at the same time.

What does projecting your work onto the Museum’s facade mean to you?

I come from a studio practice, something a little more intimate, more artisanal, so, of course, this is huge for me. It’s also a big responsibility. I think it’s the largest showcase I’ve ever had for my work, and I find it amazing that you’re able to offer this opportunity to video artists, because the public tends not to be familiar with this discipline.

What do you want people to feel when they observe your work?

The same thing that I enjoy feeling when I see a work of art, that is, an element of surprise, and the desire to know more, to create. When people tell me, “Oh! It made me want to make something!” I consider that mission accomplished. It would be wonderful if people could come out of the experience curious about video art. Why not?