The art of space

Although she is carefully soft-spoken, Anne-Laure Djaballah can talk about a multitude of issues, from Christians in the arts to the effects of a bad economy on art sales.

A graduate of Concordia University and Regent College, Djaballah is well acquainted with both the urban arts world and the Church.

"I sense that many Christian artists are pushed to insert evangelization messages into their work," she says. "That just never fit with me. If I start painting with a preconceived notion or intention, my piece falls flat."

Djaballah's art, although influenced by her story, is not figurative or narrative. It is abstract. The viewer is asked to appreciate the purity of color, form and line. While these are all stunning elements, there is not a clear-cut message that jumps off the canvas.

"People will ask me what this piece means or what that piece represents, and I usually find that most of them already have their own reading of it, which is more interesting for me. But I am glad to explain it anyways."

And explain she must. I'm no expert, but I know enough about audiences to know that abstract art has a hard time finding its niche. People either don't understand it, don't connect with it or visit it with an insulting comment along the lines of: "My kid could paint that."

Djaballah is prepared to talk about this. "I had a professor who felt representational art should be favoured over abstract because, according to him, representational art could more clearly show off God's creation," she says.

"But honestly, I don't know where you can draw the line between representational or abstract. When you take an image and focus on the tiniest detail, looking at nothing else in the image, you are looking at an abstract. That's what my art is. A tiny detail painted onto a large canvas."

Artists' lenses

If one thing can be said about Djaballah, it is that she sees her world and seeks to create it through artists' lenses. Space is important.

"I don't want my art to be in isolated frames that have no connection to their surroundings. This is why I hang a piece and then continue to paint on the wall," she says.

Her studio, every corner of which is filled with small metal boxes and wooden crates, is a work of art as well. She even includes pictures of it in her portfolio. "It's hard, finding the balance between functionality and beauty," she says. "My studio is where I work, but it's also part of my visual world. I paint in response to this world."

Strongly linked to Djaballah's interest in space is the idea of home. This may be why she often uses boxes in her installations.

"Last winter, Montreal got so much snow that roofs began caving in," she says. "When natural disaster strikes, houses become skeletons, open to all. The privacy and intimacy of your home becomes public for everyone to see, and people immediately understand the discomfort of the situation. This is why I like small boxes. They become safe, contained spaces in which you can gather bits and pieces of nature or little objects and store them."

Djaballah's graduation show, entitled "Nest," at Regent College exhibited many boxes. I ask her if her installations of open boxes is a way of exposing the intimacy of people's private worlds.

"Expose?" she asks. "No. More like protect … make precious."

Djaballah's new show opens on November 8 at the 129 Ossington Gallery in Toronto. Visit her website at www.anne-lauredjaballah.blogspot.com

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