Show Para
Directions for questions 49 to 51: The passage given below is followed by a set of three questions. Choose the most appropriate answer to each question.
“I began moving out of realism and into stylized, surreal works towards the end of my Canadian academic training. It was about the same time that I began working with mixed media, my strong preference at this stage of my development." Coming to Oaxaca was perhaps the catalyst she required in order to begin more experimental work, within the context of an extremely encouraging environment.
Aside from a leaning towards the use of natural colors for backgrounds on her canvasses, one of the major identifying features of Dunnett’s work is her use of collage — cut-outs from newspapers, magazines and comic books. Another is using photographs of her own head and face to provide the stimulus for her portrayal of expressions and poses she seeks to capture for each subject. Almost every head in every work is based on a self-photographic portrait:
"I started doing self-portraits when I began doing photography several years ago. Then when I moved into painting, I had this corpus of self-photos, so I was able to draw from them for my art. Although I wanted to shoot other people, I never felt at ease doing so. And though my boyfriend and I have been together for close to four years, I still don’t feel comfortable photographing even him. So it’s all me, perhaps because of being shy when it comes to shooting others. But that red one over there, textured with corn husks from tamales, it’s an experiment, using a face that's not my own — I think it’s best if I stick to my own face.”
Each face evokes different emotions, and images of self. "The faces make eye contact; viewers’ eyes move around each work and then return to the eyes and face," she explains. It’s undeniable that Dunnett’s own pleasing facial features, and her comport, once transferred to canvas, play a significant role in directing the viewer. She has masterfully photographed her head and upper body at every angle and with a plethora of facial expressions for use in her work.
But there’s another reason we return to the images of Dunnett’s facial expressions: The torso and limbs of each primary subject portrayed is far too troubling — each is a digitalized version of a photograph of a person who has died a violent death, usually in a traffic collision or as a consequence of domestic conflict, captured by Dunnett from both print and online versions of a Oaxacan daily, Noticias Voz e Imagen de Oaxaca. But in the artist herself, there is a sense of calm.
“I started using those photographs because they just began to jump out at me. You never see anything like it in Canada. In Oaxaca, it’s on the street corners and in the newsstands. Death here seems to be an everyday thing, and attitudes towards death are so different than from where you and I come from, not so hidden away." Dunnett stresses that her intention is not to invoke feelings of horror, nor reveal the gruesome. The facial expressions she initially captures with a lens, then transposes onto canvas with brush, lead us away. In the case of her work with a collaged iguana, it’s curiosity in her face, rather than demonic imagery of death, which draws one in.
The juxtaposition of death against the aesthetics of comic imagery is striking, almost as much as the multiplicity of presentations of Dunnett’s own self. It’s that combination which maintains the viewer’s awe of and transfixation upon her work. Perhaps Fiona Dunnett never should break out of her reticence about photographing the faces of others.
“I began moving out of realism and into stylized, surreal works towards the end of my Canadian academic training. It was about the same time that I began working with mixed media, my strong preference at this stage of my development." Coming to Oaxaca was perhaps the catalyst she required in order to begin more experimental work, within the context of an extremely encouraging environment.
Aside from a leaning towards the use of natural colors for backgrounds on her canvasses, one of the major identifying features of Dunnett’s work is her use of collage — cut-outs from newspapers, magazines and comic books. Another is using photographs of her own head and face to provide the stimulus for her portrayal of expressions and poses she seeks to capture for each subject. Almost every head in every work is based on a self-photographic portrait:
"I started doing self-portraits when I began doing photography several years ago. Then when I moved into painting, I had this corpus of self-photos, so I was able to draw from them for my art. Although I wanted to shoot other people, I never felt at ease doing so. And though my boyfriend and I have been together for close to four years, I still don’t feel comfortable photographing even him. So it’s all me, perhaps because of being shy when it comes to shooting others. But that red one over there, textured with corn husks from tamales, it’s an experiment, using a face that's not my own — I think it’s best if I stick to my own face.”
Each face evokes different emotions, and images of self. "The faces make eye contact; viewers’ eyes move around each work and then return to the eyes and face," she explains. It’s undeniable that Dunnett’s own pleasing facial features, and her comport, once transferred to canvas, play a significant role in directing the viewer. She has masterfully photographed her head and upper body at every angle and with a plethora of facial expressions for use in her work.
But there’s another reason we return to the images of Dunnett’s facial expressions: The torso and limbs of each primary subject portrayed is far too troubling — each is a digitalized version of a photograph of a person who has died a violent death, usually in a traffic collision or as a consequence of domestic conflict, captured by Dunnett from both print and online versions of a Oaxacan daily, Noticias Voz e Imagen de Oaxaca. But in the artist herself, there is a sense of calm.
“I started using those photographs because they just began to jump out at me. You never see anything like it in Canada. In Oaxaca, it’s on the street corners and in the newsstands. Death here seems to be an everyday thing, and attitudes towards death are so different than from where you and I come from, not so hidden away." Dunnett stresses that her intention is not to invoke feelings of horror, nor reveal the gruesome. The facial expressions she initially captures with a lens, then transposes onto canvas with brush, lead us away. In the case of her work with a collaged iguana, it’s curiosity in her face, rather than demonic imagery of death, which draws one in.
The juxtaposition of death against the aesthetics of comic imagery is striking, almost as much as the multiplicity of presentations of Dunnett’s own self. It’s that combination which maintains the viewer’s awe of and transfixation upon her work. Perhaps Fiona Dunnett never should break out of her reticence about photographing the faces of others.
Go to Question: