Wally Dion Has Something On His Mind
“Even though I would hope to be remembered as a portrait artist—canonizing the image of Indigenous people within art history—I am constantly set upon side quests,” says multidisciplinary Canadian artist Wally Dion, whose numerous means of expression have indeed led him on some interesting creative journeys. He draws from his Saulteaux ancestry, weaving folk-art traditions together with modern technology, resulting in striking patterns themed around indigenous identity and social advocacy. Among the forms of drawing, painting, and sculpting, textiles are an especial favorite of his, and he uses all manner of materials to make them—colorful fabrics, transparent vinyl, even recycled circuit boards.
Dion’s work predominantly portrays earthen symbols. Elements like grass, fire, and animals—as well as cultural motifs like braids and thunderbirds—comprising love letters to his land and people. He grew up in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, a small city in the Canadian Prairies that is known for its socialist ideals (it’s said to be the birthplace of Medicare) as well as its extreme racism. Like tectonic plates rubbing against one another, the pressures created by these disparities produced a rare environment influential to Dion’s formative years. “But I think what might have really helped me, and I only notice it now that I am an adult and surrounded by parents and families, is that we had a lot of free time on our hands as kids and did a lot of dangerous things: climbing under bridges, towers, abandoned buildings, et cetera. Things that people would consider illegal and super dangerous. Our father showered us with stories of adventure and social responsibility. I think these things shaped my world view, in terms of boundaries and sense for adventure,” he says. These ingredients, plus a healthy appetite for drawing and painting, made for the special recipe that shaped his venturous artistic vision.
MY STUDIO PRACTICE HAS ALWAYS BEEN A RESULT OF PROBLEM SOLVING.”
Acknowledging his skill as a classically excellent painter, Dion is relentless in his pursuit of novel contexts for conventional art forms, transforming them into singular experiences. From outdoor tipis, ethereal tapestries are hoisted into the air, their shimmering geometries flittering in the wind. Indoors, we’ll witness prism film quilts casting dancing rainbow reflections in multi-dimensional splendor. Then there are his tapestry portraits, which are more like collages, what with poetic features patched together mosaic style.
One must wonder how Dion has managed to conceptualize his plethora of techniques. Of his thought process, he shares: “My studio practice has always been a result of problem solving. In 2006, I was making paintings about Indigenous people in the work force; proletariat/Soviet poster inspired portraits. Needing to address women and caregivers in the work force as well as people in tech and computer industries, I stumbled upon the circuit board star blankets. The circuitry and components of recycled circuit boards had a lure and wanted to express certain stories.” From there, something began to click, as he saw that using alternative mediums could strengthen the message he hoped to convey.
“The fabric quilts were a similar sojourn. Wanting to talk about the reintroduction of bison into the plains, I decided it was more appropriate to delve into the prairie’s tall grass ecosystem. Transparent fabric seemed a natural material for this body of work because of its impermanence, fragility, and ability to absorb,” says Dion. For one exhibition, he had originally planned to lay several tall grass quilts upon a boulder, their combined designs creating the eight-point star. Alas, he fell short and was only able to produce one, which would have a standard spot on the wall instead. Yet on the way to gallery installation someone suggested simply hanging the piece outside. “An idea that was horrific at the time, being brought up in the white cube, sterile, archival mindset. The idea stuck and the result, a quilt glistening and undulating in the blue sky, set me onto a completely different course, away from museums and the interior,” he says.
“MY NEPHEW HAS AUTISM, AND I QUICKLY REALIZED THAT I WOULD HAVE TO CHANGE THE WAY I COMMUNICATE TO BE EFFECTIVE AND SUPPORTIVE.”
Lately, he has been trying out his new prism film technique, and it’s quite a spectacle. Viewers are faced with multiple visual plains produced by the same image: the back of a woman’s head, replete with colorful braids snaking around a rectangular quilt made from vinyl. He modestly explains: “The vinyl braids piece is my first quilt
with these materials. I work with Rainbow Symphony in L.A. to get my prism film. When film arrives, it is thin and potentially brittle, so it needs the vinyl if it is going to be moving around and rolled up several times etc. The prism film is applied to a clear vinyl which is then sewn together with other colors of vinyl. The clear-prism sections will produce rainbows and prismatic color, while the colored vinyl projects a stained-glass-like image onto the wall or floor. Therefore, this piece has two light effects.” In a dark room hit with projected light, its various patches of color come to life as a kaleidoscopic festival for the eyes.
To execute such feats, a clean, organized and spacious environment is key. He likes working on one project at a time, and considering those are usually large in scale, he’ll dedicate his entire studio space to just that. Quilting requires numerous trips from the cutting table to the machine, therefore pathways must be unhindered, and work surfaces smooth and accessible.
I WANT TO DEDICATE MY LIFE TO THIS PRACTICE, LEAVING BEHIND SOMETHING HUMBLE BUT ALSO SUBSTANTIAL, IF ONLY TO MY PEOPLE.”
Moving forward, Dion is keen to continue collaborating with horses as part of his outdoor performance art. “For me, horses are wonderful and generous creatures; I can learn a lot from them. My nephew has autism, and I quickly realized that I would have to change the way I communicate to be effective and supportive. Working with horses does that for me; teaches me to relax and be attentive to small cues.”
Waving around a quilt, as if a flag, upon the backs of these beautiful creatures is uplifting. It links him to his nationhood, minus the power structures of violence, race, and gender typically conveyed in historical works. Having migrated much of his work to the great outdoors has further connected him to the land and culture that holds so much meaning to him. “I want to dedicate my life to this practice, leaving behind something humble, but also substantial, if only to my people,” says the unbridled artist. *
This article appears in Hi-Fructose Issue 74. Get the full issue in print here!
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