In the worst political summer so far this century, the best destination is “Heart On,†the new Joyce Wieland exhibition at the Art Gallery of Ontario. I would move in if I could.
Our hearts are sore and our minds fretful. “Heart On†reminds us that Canadians have lived through terrifying times before, fearing American political collapse, man-made pollution, and swarms of malevolent multinational corporations. It’s like the 1960s again but with a deadline.
Born in ÎÚÑ»´«Ã½, began her artistic career here, moved to New York City and then came home to reach heights of inventiveness. Long after her death in 1998, she is calling out to us as we try to protect ourselves up north from the MAGA enemy below.Â
Wieland’s show is a blast of colour and energy, soaked in love of this great and huge country. She reached stunning heights in quilted textiles, fabric sculptures, painting, film, found art made of street litter, experimental film, embroidery, now-decaying plastics, drawings on paper, and collage.
We’re used to orderly art exhibits in a few small white rooms. But the AGO takes us on a big road. You will see Wieland’s range and choose which era you prefer.
I like her canvases painted in greens and blues with a flash of red. They could refer to anything: sex (all those circles and holes and flashes of penises skulking around the edges of the canvas), ovaries, sperm, bullet holes, oceans and lakes, blue skies, fish, islands, cell walls being pierced, and blood, maybe menstrual, maybe violent.
What do women think of their bodies? They know their own interiors. Male artists are obsessed with female exteriors but women are alert to the male gaze now, those harsh assessments by alien observers.
Wieland’s personal statements about the bodies we live in are the essence of our culture. She sees links between the human female body and the bodies of animals, a tiny sculpture of a woman breastfeeding beavers, a painting of a fox drinking a woman’s menstrual flow (Woman and Fox, 1986).
She also sees links with landscape, and here I come to Wieland’s most fantastic creations. Here’s an old favourite, the “Reason Over Passion†quilt that Margaret Trudeau tried to tear apart one night as she fought with her unreachable husband, prime minister Pierre Trudeau.
But Wieland has other quilts so huge and ambitious that I can hardly describe their impact. They’re like the Bayeux Tapestry in pastels but this time not flat, not at all.
Ҡis a grand blowsy rectangular landscape quilt with lines of blue stitching on white cotton that look like water rippling and shapes floating.
The forms are purple, mauve, violet, pink, and blue. Are they infants crawling in padded onesies? Purple flowers dotted with yellow? Small clouds? Cervixes? Fried eggs? Baby ice floes? Crackers?
Whatever they are, they make up Canada from sea to sea. It is a glorious rendition of this land.
And then another favourite, Wieland’s textile sculpture of the Arctic and all that it contains. A huge glass petri dish hangs on the wall (“Arctic Day,†1970-1971). It is filled with what look like pills, or smooth pebbles on the shore, or tiny round cotton cushions with pencil drawings peeking through the fabric.
Given the era, I see them as medical. The birth of Big Pharma was part of the culture then. If you visit American decor shops like West Elm and CB2 now, with cushions and trays shaped like capsules, spansules, circlets, chewables, tablets, and pastilles, you realize how much solace consumers might take in candylike .
Wieland understood that. Look more closely. These white pills in their glass pill box are the essence of the snowy North, small plants that survive extreme cold and have their own secret beauty. They don’t know who rules them: Indigenous people, Canada, or inevitably the malign U.S. They are just themselves.
We disturb and damage the North but these small shapes endure.
Come visit and revisit “Heart On,†which runs until Jan. 4, 2026 when Canada’s toughest year is over.
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