The first I heard of the British Columbian artist E.J. Hughes was when I was doing a university co-op program stint up at Harbour Publishing. I was looking through an issue of the popular Harbour perodical ‘Raincoast Chronicles,’ and found a piece on Hughes. I was instantly taken with his work. Done mostly in oil, his paintings depicted west coast scenes, and were full of vivid colour.

When I went down to the V.A.G. last weekend, seeing his work ‘in person’ almost gave me the same kind of thrill as seeing a favorite band live. I had seen so many of his works in books, on cards, and in print form that I was very pleased to finally be looking at the real thing.

Some would say his work is folksy, but in fact it’s the product of study and technique. His style began to develop in the early 1940s, after he studied the ideas of French artist Henri Rousseau. Rousseau was kind of an oddball, known for his ‘primitive, or ‘naive’ realism. Hughes was influenced by his vivid colours, his attention to detail, and his handling of proportion, space and depth.

The result was “flattened space, skewed perspective and simplified shapes.” Hughes often moves the horizon point higher on the canvas, giving distant objects a more immediate look. His goal was to create scenes of his native west-coast that were “more real than photographs.”

And that’s exactly what I relate to about his work. One of his most celebrated paintings is called 'Taylor Bay, Gabriola Island'. Tayor Bay is one of my long-time haunts. I spent practically every summer day of my childhood there.


In the painting, there are mountains in the background, much closer than in real life. The ferry coming round the point looms a little bit larger than it really would, and the shore on the opposite side of the bay is more intimate. But the scene is still instantly recognizeble to me, as are the two or three other paintings he’s done of various Gabriola landscapes.

Hughes challenges the camera. After all, a photo is not necessarily an accurate record. It is framed; it is one dimensional. You experience it with one sense only. Hughes seems to deliberately overcompensate for what you miss by not being there, capturing the sights that would register with you, things you might notice if you stopped to dwell in a place for a while. Things that would stick in your memory, but which might sink into obscurity in a photo.

The old abstract artists’ cliche/joke is to say “I paint not what I see, but what I feel.” Though he’s not an abstractionist, there is a component of this mindset in Hughes’ work. In compensating for the sensation of being there, he is attempting to re-create not only not you might see, but what you might feel if you were there. In much of his work, this is a feeling of peace; a sense of taking comfort in simple things. He puts something of an idyllic sheen on the setting at Taylor Bay, for instance, but not in a fraudulent way; it a genuinely serene and pretty place.

In looking at his paintings, I’m reminded of being a little kid, and being drawn to the boldest, simplest cartoons in the funny pages of the newspaper. They were, like much of nature, simply pleasing to look at.

Jacques Barbeau, a collector of Hughes’ work, makes the point that“if one is truly addicted to the natural attributes of this province, it is an easy intellectual step to becoming ‘hooked’ on the art of E.J. Hughes.” There’s no doubt that much of what draws me to his painting is the local nature of the work. It also helps that I like the same things he seems to like; the seashore, boats, arbutus trees hanging out over the water from the edge of the woods....all that stuff.

I also like how he fits in the art world. He’s not exactly hip. I doubt the phrase ‘enfant terrible’ has ever been used to describe him (and likely won’t be, now that he’s 90). There’s no radical chic, no dipping of the canvas in urine.

Just a guy who learned his craft, studying its history and honing his skills, and not forsaking what he wanted to do for something more fashionable. Not chasing after fame in some ‘center’ or ‘capital’ when the things that meant most to him were at home. He persevered, and over time others came to ‘get it.’

And I’m not sure if those of us who get it are a partcularly stylish bunch to have as fans. But at least we’re loyal. There was a good and attentive crowd at the gallery.

And there’s a lesson in that too. If you’re doing something creative, there’s not much percentage in trying to win over the hipsters. Just do your thing, and let the real folks come round.


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Speaking of art, I was amused to read this in 'The Guardian' a few months ago...an account of a visit by the British Minister of Culture to a recent art exhibit in London.....

"If this is the best British artists can produce, then British art is lost," he repeated last night. "It is cold, mechanical, conceptual bullshit. Art has always been very central to my life and I was so disappointed when I saw that exhibition. It infuriated me. That is not artistic."

Nor was he prepared to apologise for the colour of his language:

"It is the sort of plain speaking that is always missing from discussions about art in this country."

Watching ruefully from the sidelines was the millionaire Ivan Massow, a New Labour convert from the Tories who was sacked as chairman of the Institute of Contemporary Art for saying the same thing. Massow had complained that much conceptual art was "pretentious, self-indulgent, craftless tat" and accused the art establishment of talking down to the public.

"It is not much of a consolation to find eight months later your vision is endorsed by the minister of culture. Does this mean I can have my job back?"

Massow's fear is that the "dry elitist" brand of conceptual art championed by the Tate is in "danger of choking a massive hunger for art ... Of course, people like Nicholas Serota will say that new art has never been popular. Well that is just not true. New art was unpopular with the establishment but loved by the people.

"What is happening now is the reverse. The art and artists are pushed by the establishment and resented and resisted by the people. I, like everyone I know, want to be moved by art. I want it to make me cry; I don't want to be constantly taken the piss out off, to be sniggered at."