Amanda Vandekerckhove’s piece ``shhdownell`` explores the theme of religious and sexual abuse occultism and symbology. At present ``the artist`` has ``found`` 126 images, logos and symbols hidden ... within the piece. The childish main subjects hide a darker double meaning. Vandekerckhove invites the viewers to take a second look after saying aloud the words “green” or “white” (but saying “yellow” might scare people away).
Vandekerckhove spent the first four hours working on this painting during a psychotic episode. The viewer may find it interesting that this piece only submitted to being painted insanely under ``good lighting`` and took months to finish because of the lack of good painting days in winter.
Toronto-based artist Amanda Vandekerckhove is delighted to be included in this year's ‘Being Scene’ exhibition. Inspired by the ``less than green`` practices of art supply manufacturers, Vandekerckhove strives to produce high-quality work made with supplies that would have been otherwise discarded. Before receiving cultural training, Vandekerckhove vividly recalls feeling out of control, seemingly possessed as she created works. She would feel an unignorable fullness building and throbbing until the story, song or painting that wished to be, would be created. This post reclamation of cultural values is how song callers work. The psychologist on Vandekerckhove 's health care team calls it CPSD and autism but “an apprentice clown`` as suggested by the elder is probably more appropriate.
as this year is presented virtually I contend that this is the traditional territory of the notorious traders we Metis
Our Lands our lives.
We made treaty with you
To last until River stops flowing
Never imagining a creature so greedy, to take even her share
My Auntie GRAND auntie. My grandmother is looking for her sister.
We gave land to you
For you, we felt bad.
That you had been kicked from your garden.
My Auntie my Auntie has anyone seen my Mother's sister?
We sent our children to you expectant, that they would be made wise in your ways. Instead you made them dumb in ours.
My sister my sister has anyone seen my sister?
White buffalo sits penned in your zoo.
My brother sits zooed, in your pen.
Riel, commanded his people rise again!
My sister, your sister! Still searching for our sisters.
The radio plays the rhythms of the ghost dances.
There is no clean place left, for me to lay my tobacco.
And did I tell yo? I'm looki'n fer my daughter?