Mia Sandhu

Mia Sandhu is a Punjabi-Canadian artist, born in Canada, currently residing in Toronto. She is an artist who often works with issues of immigration, identity, femininity, and sensuality. Seeing You, Seeing Me, Seeing You was Patel Brown’s second exhibition at their Montreal gallery, and Sandhu’s first solo exhibition in Montreal.  These works explore, among other things, the relationship between pleasure and shame. Her figures appear to be at ease with their bodies, confident in their sexuality, at home in their environment and being seen. Perhaps they are so relaxed because some of their most personal  physical features, their faces and genitals, are obscured by clouds of black smoke-like veils. The exhibition consists of many works on paper, made with gouache, watercolour, pencil, and charcoal. Paintings on paper are surrounded by vintage furniture (loaned from the personal collection of Patel Brown Montreal gallery director Roxanne Arsenault) and installation elements that create a homey, stylish, and pleasantly kitschy environment for her works. Her inspiration here comes from her collection of vintage erotica, her work as a set painter in the film industry, and her family photos from the seventies, all of which contribute to the aesthetic.

I first discovered Mia Sandhu’s work at the Patel Brown booth at the Papier Art Fair a few years ago in Montreal. I remember her work as exemplary in the use of materials, and striking in her portrayal of the erotic. It was a breath of fresh air at an art fair where senses are overloaded, making a lot of work seem underwhelming. Sandhu’s works on paper stood out and I was delighted to find them again at the fair in the following years. Patel Brown is a welcome new addition to the galleries in the Belgo Building, as an established gallery that is strongly curated, very contemporary, with a brave sensibility that doesn’t shy away from the erotic and the weird, traits which aren’t that common in Canadian art spaces. As a Punjabi-Canadian of mixed cultural identity, and Sandhu’s works have long examined cultural hybridity. Her work often conveys mixed feelings and experiences, dealing with polarities such as shame and self-love, belonging and alienation. 

The women in these paintings continue the connection to Sandhu’s last solo show at Patel Brown in Toronto, Golden Girls, except here, the figures are often pregnant, and the overall feel here is more erotic and bizarre. Luxuriating in their own feminine power and grace, bedecked in vintage stockings and heels, sporting full 70s-style bushes, the women seem to be part of a secret sisterhood, perhaps Sapphic, perhaps platonic. They tease us, they enjoy their own existence, and they look at us with the same curiosity with which we regard them. These women see us, the viewer, seeing them. Sandhu’s women are playing up this exchange, legs spread over the arms of a chair, frank gazes meeting ours. These women’s soft, lavish pubic hair mimics the colour and texture of their smoky crowns. Though the smoky veil that enshrouds their visages, these women peer at us with a steady and sometimes flirtatious, sometimes inscrutable regard. There is an erotic exchange of energy in watching and being watched, and these women are disrobed in a way that heightens the eroticism of their bodies and situations. They seem to be fantasy images, yet they are simultaneously beings in and of themselves. Spirits of an idealized 1970s, when free love was the thing and many people had sexual awakenings via breaking down of self or societally imposed sexual mores and conventions.

Many of the women in this series are pregnant, but they seem to be so frankly, ripe with creativity and self-possession. There is no sign of a husband or children around, and the demands of childrearing do not beckon. The sense of the pregnancies in this series seems to be in the way that women are creative goddesses of mystery, rather than possessions intended to extend the tribe and lineage. All of the women who are visibly pregnant in these works seem to be in the last month of their pregnancy, ready to bring new life—new creation—into the world, thereby transforming themselves and the lives of their babies forever. In this way, we are reminded of the artist’s role in bringing new work into the physical realm.

Mia Sandhu has a delicate, skillful touch, a mastery with line that makes one peer closer to admire the skill in the rendering of floral textiles and the details of gorgeous houseplants that surround her figures, enhancing the atmosphere of time and place. There is a pleasant contrast between the opaqueness of gouache with the translucency of watercolour, especially layered here over creamy, warm-coloured paper.  I am reminded of the rich history of erotic paintings on paper in Asia, examples of which can be found in humourous Japanese erotica, and often philosophical Chinese paintings, which represent slices of daily life, and the harmony of yin and yang represented in both sexes taking equal pleasure in each other.  More importantly is the connection to Sandhu’s own heritage, there is a long tradition of gorgeous erotic paintings on paper in India. Sandhu’s interest in putting her figures in domestic environments, surrounded by bold colour and patterns harkens to the rich history of erotic art in Asia and India, but as a contemporary painter she brings a soft but confident touch, contemporary line and rendering skill, a personal inquiry, and a sense of playful taboo. A woman, especially one raised with an awareness of Eastern culture and mores, would have a keen sense of what is acceptable and not acceptable in terms of sexual expression and modesty. The historical predominance of Christian Anglo-Saxon values on colonial Canada makes this country also not so open to sexual expression, feminine pleasure, or self-possession, feminine sexuality is only acceptable if it is a thing to be consumed and profited from by someone else. Such influences are still quite palpable here today, though of course to a much lesser extent than in the past. I do not doubt that the mixed cultural heritage Sandhu possesses has contributed strongly to her interest in portrayals of concealing and revealing. Probably it the contrast between the two states, the sense of becoming, of transition, that makes these works so compelling.

In A Vessel to Hold 4, a heavily pregnant woman regards herself in the mirror, she seems to be calmly admiring what she sees. The Vessel to Hold paintings speak of the way a mother holds their baby within, and the comforting sensation of being held, and perhaps, to hold one’s own soft, round curves, or that of another. They speak of what it is to nurture and be nurtured, and of the embracing, supportive nature of womanhood and sisterhood. A Vessel to Hold 9, a pregnant woman is attired in a diaphanous blue blouse, her swollen breasts and nipples visible over her large belly, which she holds proudly while regarding us. She seems to ask us to admire what she has made. She sits heavily with physical presence on an antique chair of soft wood and wine-coloured velvet. A Vessel to Hold 10 shows two pregnant nymphs, wearing vintage stockings and lace, luxuriating playfully on a bed lush with blue and white curtains, from which wild Queen Anne’s Lace flowers emerge. Sandhu’s pregnant vixens do not allow for the Madonna and whore duality, they convey the sexy magic of a voluptuous pregnant woman, who can still be desired and desire even though she is a mother-to-be.

In the Chrysalis paintings, the figures are again covered with thick black smoke, but they are wearing transparent fabric, perhaps gauze. The title of this mini-series implies they are emerging from silken cocoons, resplendent and transformed. In many Eastern countries, influenced by Muslim traditions, women are veiled, but these chrysalises do not conceal, they reveal the glorious transformation of the feminine body, perhaps from childhood to puberty, then maturity, pregnancy, and beyond. In Chrysalis 6, the curvaceous woman kneels on a bed, regarding us with almost frightful self-possession, eyes just points of piercing light through the darkness. She appears before large golden rings, dried flowers, and plants—familiar as installation elements in this exhibition. 

In the Waxing and Waning paintings, women disguised by floral shrouds are paired together to play, support, and embrace each other. Waxing and Waning 16 presents a figure concealed by a floral fabric leaning in to caress a reclining woman whose breast is nearly exposed as she receives a red finger-tipped embrace. The black cloud seems to seep like liquid over the bodies and the bed, almost as if it is an extension of the fluid energy of the couple. Sexual symbolism is apparent in Pussy Willows and Cat Tails, we see the “tail” of the figure, clad in a thong. The bullrushes, or cat tails, look phallic, paired with the delicate toes of the pussy willow branches. 

A play on words, and with a nod to popular culture, the bodies in Mia Sandhu’s Bawdy paintings could be considered raucously, joyously nude and lewd. They’re playing in decidedly kitschy 70s environments, enjoying their physical forms and showing off. Full, heavy breasts, costume jewelry, furry armpits, and more greet us. The woman in Bawdy 37 has a leg thrown over the arm of a wicker chair, revealing white panties. She is holding an apple, like Eve, yet shameless. This work is intriguingly presented on a wooden shelf, flanked by retro decorative elements, against a white and mustard-coloured floral patterned wallpaper, almost as a shrine. This style is reflected in Bawdy 36, where a white opaque-stockinged nymph coquettishly draws a stemmed flower between her legs as she kneels on the floor before a chair and houseplants. The painting is flanked by campy candle holders against a different type of vintage-style wallpaper. These works by Sandhu create a scene that reminds us to gracefully, playfully enjoy while asking ourselves: what is the nature of self, embodiment, and pleasure?

The signature black smoke around the women in Seeing You, Seeing Me, Seeing You, is like a dark nimbus, light but thick, allowing us to see curious, sensual eyes through the clouds. The black veils are almost afro-like, echoing the dense bush between their legs which obscures and mystifies their vulvas. The nipples and areoles are lovingly rendered, with great attention to variations of colour and texture which make them remarkably lifelike.  Sandhu’s women are queens, Goddesses, courtesans, porn actresses, mothers— archetypes of luxury, physical and emotional nurturing, and sensuality.  Their veils obscure their identity, cloak them in anonymity, beyond reproach or identification, rendering them archetypal. They play, exploring the connection to the other, to the world, within self-designated realms of boundary and safety. exposed and concealed.

Instagram: @patelbrown @mia.sandhu

Photo credit: Kyle Tryhorn @gingerhorn

Sarah Osborne is a young artist, who has recently completed her MFA at Concordia University and is now presenting an intimate exhibition of six paintings at Galerie Lilian Rodriguez titled Oeuvres Récentes.  The series of figurative works are marked by a bright palette and a focus on the female form. Osborne has been producing paintings of increasing flatness and luminosity which appear to be influenced by Pop Art and “Bad” Painting. This diverges from her recent focus on still lives which call to mind Warhol and various Americana, beer and other beverages, cigarettes and food products presented in a way reminiscent of advertising. Her older work was more painterly in terms of brushwork and texture, with shades of Dana Shutz and Phillip Guston, featuring plates of food which could be splashed on billboards or Instagram feeds, hot dogs, smoked meat sandwiches and so on. However, her recent work also speaks of youth and the joy of being alive, of simple pleasures and shared human indulgences.

The works in Oeuvres Récentes are painted in heightened, saturated colour—summer sky blue, dandelion yellow, lurid salmon pink, stop sign red. When we spoke, Osborne expressed an interest in painting the female figure. It isnâ€t immediately obvious that they are autoportaits because of her use of composition and cropping. We are reminded of the way women portray themselves in social media, and how that relates to the depiction of women in art history, the muse, the object of desire, the looked upon. The work doesnâ€t take a direct political stance on this subject, but can be understood as a celebration of the freedom involved in the ability to represent oneself as one wishes to the world, through the internet, through sharing images of oneself, and through painting, a realm of true agency and imagination. Her figures are largely flat, but marked with some personal characteristics, a scattering of moles, the ubiquitous red painted nails. Osborne stated that she typically portrays herself more solidly framed than she is in reality, and her washily-rendered figures often seem robustly present, although cartoonish.

With their sense of joie de vivre, Sarah Osborne creates works which seem influenced by “Bad” Painting, especially the work of Joan Brown with her sense of negative space and even, bright colour, as well as the naïve rendering of her figures and her use of the personal. In terms of “bad” painting, the perspective often isnâ€t quite right, and sometimes it is far off, the brushwork can be rough and brusque—but other times it is delicate and sensitive, betraying itâ€s “bad” style—figures seem cut-out and float in space or sink into the tiles. Flesh is rendered one-dimensionally in sunburn pink while other parts of the painting receive more varied treatment. Alex Katz also comes to mind with these recent paintings as a possible influence, with his advertisement-flat figures and arresting spaces of colour.

Pieds croisés dans les Tropiques is the first painting one encounters, just outside the little room in which her work is shown. Small and unassuming, against an orange-pink sky, tropical plant fronds frame feet clad in 80â€s style sandals, toes painted red. The style is crude, the mood is irreverent and fun. Another small painting, Journée parfait is a small canvas, a windswept landscape with a flat blue sky and a green field of Queen Anneâ€s lace. Itâ€s an American dream devoid of irony. Autoportrait avec chemise allemande is thoughtfully cropped, just a view of a neck spotted with a constellation of moles, and a white embroidered shirt, the flowers of which look like delicate stains against the pure white fabric. The blue tie for the shirt is rendered convincingly and tenderly, you can feel the playful weight of it drawn down by gravity.

Staring at the Sea reminded me of Janet Wernerâ€s recent work in some ways, as it is hyper-feminine with a focus on the strands of the blonde hair of the figure seen from behind. The enormous black bow is the most dimensional object by far in this painting, and we are more drawn into its voluptuous curves than the turbulent sea to which the figureâ€s attention is apparently directed. There is no real mood, just physicality and a sense of tranquil emptiness. It is these compositional aspects which make Osborneâ€s work is so reminiscent of Pop.

The Yellow Lobby could be a cheeky hotel guest showing up or departing clad in only chunky ankle boots and a long army-style jacket. Even the floor seems offended, the lines of the tiles curving away from her. The yellow of the lobby is indeed charming and it is offset by a green more subdued than most colours in this body of work, the stark black and white of the tiles and the shock of red nails.

Even in the most personal painting of the show, Texting in Bed at Night, remains anonymous. These could be found images off the internet, but they are not, they are self-portraits. We donâ€t get a sense of loneliness, or salaciousness, despite the view of her buttocks covered in panties boldly framed by a circular mirror, the brushwork around which is quite lovely. The wall is red as fresh blood and the curtains behind the figure are illuminated by prismatic colours, yet the night beyond seems black and lightless. Despite the isolation and fragmentation of these figures, we donâ€t get a sense of the inherent disconnection of social media culture in these works. As a millennial, Osborne seems completely ensconced in it, for those who grew up with the internet, interacting with it is second nature. Itâ€s Pop culture, unquestioned, enjoyed and not criticized.  Yet, this work does not fail to raise questions for the viewer about the influence of social media, the way we share ourselves in fragments, which are distorted views, postcards of the self. We are invited into an intimate world that is somehow also distant and removed. In making herself an odalisque, cutting herself into pieces and flattening and denying her identity, Osborne is claiming the self-image as opposed to being the muse. She has made herself her only muse thus far, but a sort of secret way, not in the show-off sense of Instagram fame. If this work is feminist at all it is understated. These paintings are more gently curious; self-curious, world curious, visually appreciative. Sarah Osborneâ€s paintings express what it is like for many to be alive and young today, infused with an appreciation for the ordinary things around them in a complicated world.