Crushed cans, 12 x 12, 2006.
The aerosol cans that these pieces are constructed from can be imagined narratively as the peripheral artifacts of creation, bearing more than a passing resemblance to a traditional painter’s flattened, empty metallic tubes of oil paint. Viewing the sculptures literally, this conception expands to represent the peripheral artifacts of life itself: cans of brake fluid, oven cleaner, insect repellent, spray paint, et cetera. In the context of the Art Gallery of Alberta’s “flat” exhibition, these crushed spray paint give a nod, and a wink, in homage to Jules Olitski’s spray paintings, also on view.
These crushed can pieces are all shown one-sided, literally flat on the wall, and thus can be perceived as pictures. Yet, their images are identical with their material supports, not applied as a surface design; therefore, the works remain in the world of physical objects, and are more accurately described as polychrome bas-relief sculptures.
The question as to where such sculptures belong within our contemporary artistic landscape is a pleasing puzzle. Formally, these works might bring to mind the shaped canvases, riotous colours, and metallic reflections of some of Olitski’s (and notably, Clement Greenberg’s) artistic followers, like Edmonton’s Graham Peacock and his fellow ‘New New Painters’; or, the well-known crushed metal sculptures of John Chamberlain. Conversely, some of the works, with more overt references to consumer products, encourage a Pop or Fluxxus-inspired interpretation since, unlike modernist paintings, these pieces are what a Duchampiste would call “objets trouvé.”
Each of these individual works are indeed found objects; conscientiously selected, rather than intentionally created, as artworks. Through a simple change in perspective, detritus is transformed into an aesthetic object. Although a Duchampian reading could lead some to interpret these works as a rejection of Greenbergian sensibilities, that would be a mistake. Greenberg often wrote and spoke appreciatively of Duchamp’s better readymades. Indeed, these crushed can artworks represent a celebration of the true breadth and inclusiveness of Clement Greenberg’s allegedly unfriendly “formalist” aesthetic: anything that can be appreciated aesthetically can be appreciated as art.
A kimono is cut from straight, rectangular lengths of cloth and sewn together without shaping to the body. Its sleeves are rectangles, its front panels are rectangles, and the garment gets its form when it’s worn. Flattened cans are rectangles too, and here they’ve been assembled on the same principle. A broad panel at each side forms a sleeve, and two narrower panels meet along a vertical seam at the centre to form the front. The silhouette is the wide-shouldered, flat T of the garment, laid out as if it were hung for display.
The kimono is a garment of ceremony, and its worth lies in its surface: dyed, printed or embroidered patterns, laid across the panels. This one is decorated too. The red panel carries black hazard symbols and a white roundel with a printed illustration. The blue-and-white panel is crossed by a yellow band and bright type. Orange rust and amber residue are spread over the silver panel at the right and over the left sleeve, like a wash of dye. The pattern is accidental, and it still occupies the panels the way a pattern does on cloth.
“Industrial” gives the garment a different wearer. The labels belong to cleaners and degreasers, products for the workshop, and their lettering, their warnings and their stains are the only ornament the garment has. The title dresses that world in formal wear. The round ends of two cans sit at the lower left, one with its valve still visible, and a domed end with a valve nub rises at the top. These interrupt the rectangular outline at the shoulder and the neck, and they are the only curved forms in the piece.
“Ryan McCourt’s flattened aerosol cans are relatively pure as Duchampian gestures. They are what they already are. They are each modified, but with rigorous similarity – like widgets stamped from a machine. They are ‘altered ready-mades’, and their aesthetic merit (differentiating them from everything else in the world that is not art) hinges on one thing: the artist’s choice. In spite of the evocative and mostly humorous titles, these objects are almost completely self-evident: no secret patented technique, no relief from the here and now, no window to somewhere else – just beautiful, flattened cans.”
—Marcus Miller, curator, Art Gallery of Alberta, 2007
“Waste, regarded as worthless material, is a human-defined and controlled concept. When we designate something as waste and discard it into the trash bin, it undergoes a nullification of its monetary value and its symbolic meaning changes. The symbolism of waste extends beyond its origin and final destination, delving into the deeper relationship between humans, the material world, and the land.”
—Yuluo Anita Wei, curator, Steelcase Art Projects, 2024
