Today I took my kids to the MacDonald Stewart Art Centre to see Janet Morton’s 20-year retrospective, The Ravelled Sleeve. I confess, I had never heard of her before I found out about the exhibition. This seems insane to me, since she lives here in my very own town, and her work (now that I’ve seen it) thrills me. My six-year-old was equally rapt throughout the exhibition. We watched one of her videos, Strange Music, all the way from start to finish without a pause, and we both agreed that it was our favourite piece of the whole show. We were spellbound.

What I loved about that video in particular was that it was so compelling, I enjoyed just experiencing it. Normally at galleries, my mind is in a rush. I buzz from piece to piece, deciding quickly whether I like it or not and moving on. If I’m good, I will be sure to take long enough to find one reason for my opinion. But with this video, I just watched and listened (the tuba music was absolutely lovely) as the tuba player played and the gray yarn knitted up the tuba. Every once in a while the yarn would move under the player’s hand, and I felt a moment of mild tension, wondering if it would get tangled or pause the music (it didn’t). Sometimes the camera zoomed in on the player’s hand, fingering the valves, or other details.

As I watched and listened, different thoughts and details came into my mind. I noticed the player’s breath, and how the sound of it didn’t sync with the movement in the video. And I thought about intimacy, how intimate it is to hear someone’s breath and to notice the faint marks on the backs of their hands. I thought about the person behind the video camera, and wondered if she felt uncomfortable with that intimacy. (I assume the artist was the one unravelling the yarn?) I noticed the visual rhythm of the yarn’s backward unravelling and enjoyed how it met the song’s rhythm.I thought about what mad knitting skills Morton must have, to have figured out how to knit around the tuba’s winding details, about how long it must have taken, and what it must be like to spend that much time making something only to unravel it. I thought about the impermanence of life and art.

I say that’s my favourite piece, but I loved them all. This one, “Cozy,” was a close second. It really does feel cozy, and it reminds me of that amazing workshop with Alec Soth.

I felt like the whole show was about impermanence and vulnerability, but maybe that’s just because of my tornado thing and the fact that two of her pieces had funnel shapes. It was just all so brilliant. If you’re in the area, do yourself a favour and see this show before it closes Nov. 11.