In this illustrated biography of painter Alex Colville, Mark A. Cheetham charts the prodigious life and career of one of Canada’s best-known artists. Both artist and public figure, Colville engages many worlds at painting and politics, creativity and business. He has been given some of the highest honours for his art. He has also been charged with misogyny, opportunism, and crowd-pleasing. Where is the truth among all these contradictions? Read this biography and discover Alex Colville for yourself.
Wow. Didn't like this book. It was badly written, to start off. Mark Cheetham includes some very mangled phrases in it. It often felt stitched together from secondary sources, and Cheetham goes through very convoluted arguments to try to make whatever point he's trying to make.
But I also realized that I'm not that big a fan of Alex Coville. First of all, his life story, his philosophy, none of it was interesting in any way. I don't know whether to blame Cheetham for that and his abysmal writing and structure, or if it's just an uninteresting life.
But the other thing that I remembered as I was reading this is that I went to see a Coville exhibit at the Art Gallery of Ontario a number of years ago. Then, as when I decided to read this book, I thought "I like Alex Coville" and reading this book reminded me that as the exhibit went on, I was enjoying it less and less. I think when I come across a Coville painting, my first reaction is positive, but viewing a number of them makes me realize that for me, there's not much there. An attractive picture at first glance, but then flat, with not a lot of depth, and nothing to reflect on or keep me occupied.
Cheetham, to his credit, reads a lot into each picture he discusses, although sometimes his interpretation owes much to knowing the back story of the painting - his discussion of the painting French Cross is like that. But to me, I look and see a girl on a horse, looking back at a monument. Nothing to hold the eye, no subtext, nothing to discover in the painting. Next!
So I don't blame Cheetham that I find his subject uninteresting, I don't even blame him for his horrible writing. I blame his editor. They had no business letting such a poorly-written book go out like this. They're the real villain here.