There is a rich vein in Canadian art that uses our聽national identity as its聽theme. Cornelius Krieghoff made much of life in British North America, and the Group of Seven developed our True North imagery. Greg Curnoe, in the mid-1960s, made his pop-art motto 鈥渃lose the 49th parallel,鈥� and Charlie Pachter of Toronto made icons of the moose and the Queen. Douglas Coupland brought Canadianism to an international audience. Victoria鈥檚 Timothy Wilson Hoey continues the work with his Canadiana series, now 6,000 paintings strong and growing.
Hoey boldly paints our pop icons 鈥� Gump Worsley, John Diefenbaker, Old Dutch Potato Chips 鈥� in rich acrylics on old pieces of plywood, or whatever comes to hand. Special requests pour in daily and, according to Hoey, the paint-encrusted table in his workshop is like a 鈥渃onveyor belt.鈥�
Before the panels are shipped off, he makes a frame for each from broken hockey sticks, their trademark lettering proudly showing. Rather than mitre the wooden sticks for a neat corner, he just butts them together and tapes up the joint with the black stuff we used to call 鈥渇riction tape.鈥� This artwork is virtually indestructible.
Canadiana is his shtick, as they say in vaudeville. And Hoey doesn鈥檛 mind.
鈥淚 see myself as a reflectionist rather than an actual artist,鈥� he told me. 鈥淚 hate that word 鈥� artist. I think it鈥檚 used far too 鈥� quickly.鈥� The basement in his neat older home in Victoria centres on a workbench, like the one your dad used to repair the lawnmower, and Hoey鈥檚 huge collection of old tools is neatly stacked all around.
鈥淚 get way more inspiration from an old repaired tool than from a visit to an art gallery,鈥� he confessed. 鈥淚t鈥檚 always been about making something, for me.鈥�
Hoey鈥檚 parents were part of the artistic milieu in Victoria, and he grew up literally playing at the feet of the Limners. He has never been to art school, but in Calgary he worked for a long time at an art supply store, getting to know the materials, and teaching.
His graphically enhanced forearms attest to 10 years working in a tattoo shop, where commissions were the order of the day and his drawing had to be right. Influenced by the prairie trends, he was struggling as an abstract painter when Victoria鈥檚 Fran Willis Gallery began to display his work. Each of these experiences has provided a rich training ground for what was to come.
One day, his wife Candace noticed him loitering about in the kitchen and suggested he go downstairs and paint something he had never painted before. He went down, and without much thought knocked off a portrait of Pierre Trudeau. Later, his dealer came by and asked if that odd portrait was available for a sa国际传媒 Day show. Hoey was reluctant.
鈥淗eaven forbid you go and change your style,鈥� he recalled. 鈥淵ou might lose your audience!鈥� But he agreed to it, if the show involved a street hockey game. A hundred people showed up, and the event turned into a classic Canadian block party.
His gallery in Calgary heard about this, and in the next year booked its own sa国际传媒 Day show. Things took on their own momentum, and six years later Hoey was the star of a sa国际传媒 Day party in London鈥檚 Trafalgar Square, with 50 of his paintings in a tent.
鈥淣o sa国际传媒 Council money,鈥� he assured me. Hoey was given a ticket to London by the organizers, and pre-sold the work to his Canadian fans to raise the money for shipping.
鈥淚 treat the things as a commodity,鈥� he explained. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 like 鈥榦penings.鈥� I treat it like a trade show, to show the product.鈥� He runs the risk of not being taken seriously, but that doesn鈥檛 bother him.
鈥淚t鈥檚 not up to me 鈥� it鈥檚 up to the audience,鈥� he laughed. And his fans seem just fine with his approach.
Without much effort at promotion, Hoey has been taken up by numerous galleries. Whistler and Canmore are big for him, and locally he is shown at the Phillips Brewery and upstairs at Ferris Oyster Bar. These are hardly high-profile galleries, but the commissions pour in and orders are sent out by the box-full. In a box by the door I riffled through small panels depicting Starlac Powdered Skim Milk, a Tim Hortons sign and a bag of Hawkins Cheezies.
鈥淭here are lots of people on the prairies who are very reminiscent,鈥� Hoey mused. His current partnership with the Trounce Alley Gallery in Victoria is giving him more exposure than ever.
Hoey has been immersed in this sort of native memorabilia all his life.
鈥淚鈥檓 a hopeless history buff,鈥� he confessed. We sat in his 鈥渕useum,鈥� a room next to his workshop jammed with a life-time of flea-market finds where, under the watchful gaze of a stuffed beaver, he held forth.
鈥淧eople see old things with rose-coloured glasses and, when they see something that reminds them of something they love, it goes from there.鈥� Painting pictures of these objects enables him to share his enthusiasm.
鈥淚 get these great stories,鈥� Hoey smiled. His simple painting of a 鈥渟tubby鈥� beer bottle opened a memory for a woman whose dad had let her have a taste of beer on a summer afternoon years ago. When she shared her story with Hoey, his work was complete.
So here鈥檚 Tim Hoey, in his ball cap down in the basement. Don鈥檛 call him an artist, don鈥檛 expect a wine-and-cheese opening, and don鈥檛 expect him to apply for a government grant.
鈥淚 love the idea of people having fun with art,鈥� Hoey said.
鈥淭hat doesn鈥檛 mean it has to be dumb, or poor quality or nostalgia, but you have to let people in on it, to enjoy it.鈥� He does 鈥� and they do.
Tim Hoey at Trounce Alley Gallery, 616聽Trounce Alley, 250-886-6347
