Wes Bell’s photography and Hope Forstenzer’s sculptures are on display at the Zack Gallery until May 18. (photo by Sarah Dobbs)
The current exhibition at the Zack Gallery is actually two separate shows: Wes Bell’s series of black and white photographs, called Snag, which is part of the Capture Photography Festival, and Hope Forstenzer’s glass sculptures, called If Not Now, When?
The connection between the artists’ works is not immediately obvious.
“I was initially drawn to the idea of colour and black and white and the impact that would have on the visitors to the gallery,” curator Sarah Dobbs explained. “Both Wes Bell and Hope Forstenzer use everyday materials and imagery to explore complex emotional experiences, transforming the ordinary into something deeply symbolic. Their works consider ideas of vulnerability and change, whether through Bell’s weathered landscapes of loss or Forstenzer’s delicate glass forms that capture fleeting human feelings. Together, they create a dialogue about presence, inviting people to consider the fragility and urgency of being alive.”
Bell hasn’t always photographed in black and white. After he graduated from the Alberta College of Art in 1980, he worked as a fashion photographer, first in Milan, then in New York. “I was well known for my colours and my attention to details when I was in fashion,” he said. “I was published in many prestigious magazines, but I burned out after awhile. The commercial freelance roller-coaster hollowed me out.”
In 2008, the global financial crisis was the final straw. He fell into depression. “I felt that my life had too much colour,” he said. “I needed to simplify, but I didn’t know what my new direction should be.”
He went back to school. “I took classes in the history of photography and history of cinema, among others,” he said.
Bell returned to Alberta to say goodbye to his mother, who was dying of cancer. “As I drove back to the airport, my attention drifted to the roadside, to the flapping remnants of plastic bags snagged in barbed-wire fences running alongside the highway,” he recalled. “Mile after mile, the fences lining the ditches were embellished with forgotten shreds of plastic, whipped by the wind. They might’ve been blown off trucks or thrown away out of cars. Frayed, lacerated and punctured, they drew me in. There was melancholy there that resonated, like souls of the people we lost or wings of some fantastic creatures. I stopped the car and took photos.”
He uploaded the photos to his computer and converted them to black and white, to reflect his sadness. “Seven weeks later, Mom passed away. It is in remembrance of her that these images first came to life,” he said.
Bell returned to those ditches and fences. “I came there for three years, from 2015 to 2017, to photograph those bags fluttering in the wind. I photographed 68 different sites, always during the transitional season from winter to spring, when everything appeared dead, when no green vegetation, foliage or flowers distracted from the forms. Every time I took photos, I removed the bags from the barbed wire and put them in the closest garbage bins. I tried to take care of the environment.”
For Bell, these images symbolize his grief over the loss of both his parents. His father passed away just a few weeks before the show opened.
“This show for me is about loss and memory, about the universality of grief, not just for my parents but for everyone who dies. There is so much death in the world right now, so much oppression,” he said. “And mourning and funerals in many cultures around the world are often associated with black. That’s why I decided to go with the black and white approach. My original, coloured pictures don’t have the same impact.”
In contrast, Forstenzer’s sculptures are infused with colour. Only one sculpture is white – “Spine.” Every vertebra of that twisty glass spine is inscribed with a negative emotion: despair, trapped, brittle, inferior, inadequate, doomed. The little sculpture inspires profound sadness.
“It is about my sister’s spine,” said Forstenzer. “She has severe scoliosis. She has been grappling with many health issues for years, and this unnaturally curved spine is symbolic of her problems.”
Forstenzer’s road to glass artistry was somewhat convoluted.
“My background is in graphic design, photography and film. I’ve been writing stories since childhood, but I always wanted to have a visual aspect for my stories, too,” she said. “For years, I was the artistic director of a multimedia company in New York. We worked on short avant-garde plays: mine as well as ones written by others. We produced them around New York. It was an amazing job, very interesting and successful, but it didn’t pay the bills.”
For that, she worked as a graphic designer. She also taught graphic design, first in the United States – New York, Seattle, Baltimore – and, later, in Vancouver, after her wife accepted a job at BC Children’s Hospital in 2012 and the family moved here. Forstenzer taught at Emily Carr and Simon Fraser.
After years of working hard but being unable to make a living with art, Forstenzer was burned out. “There is no system to support artists in America,” she said. “We all need a day job to survive. Or a spouse with a paying job, if we are lucky. I’m one of the lucky ones.”
Forstenzer started looking for a new direction.
“I lived down the street from Urban Glass Studio in Brooklyn. I took a class from them and paid in kind with my graphic designer services. I was 30 years old and I fell in love with glass. I knew it was the medium for me, the way to express myself, to tell my stories. In theatre, in painting, in photography, the artist provides the focus, and his audience accepts it. But with glass, my story might be totally different from the one my viewers see. Everyone sees glass through their own life experience, supplies their own interpretation.”
At first, glass art was a hobby.
“I wanted more glass classes – there is so much to learn,” she said. “We moved to Seattle. I took more glass classes and always negotiated to pay with my designer skills for the studio time.”
After moving to Vancouver, glass became her full-time artistic practice, and she joined the Terminal City Glass Co-op.
“When Sarah [Dobbs] asked me if I would like to share the show with Wes Bell, I agreed. I thought it would be a nice contrast. Wes’s photos are all about grief and desolation. I find my place in between grief and optimism. The world is a mess right now, but I want to believe that we can pull through if we act now. That’s why I called my part of the show ‘If Not Now, When?’” said Forstenzer. The famous saying is attributed to first-century BCE sage Hillel the Elder.
Two sculptures of wings attract the attention of everyone who enters the gallery. Both are parts of Forstenzer’s series Dream of Flight. “I made 12 sets, all belonging to different winged creatures, for a show in 2021,” she said. “You know, every human religion, every system of spiritual belief, uses wings or winged creatures in some way.”
Another memorable work is “Mourners.” Four small glass figurines, abstract depictions of people in mourning, occupy a stand in the middle of the gallery. Their bright, intertwined, yellow-and-blue hues shine against the black and white of Bell’s photographs.
“I don’t think grief is always dark or colourless,” said Forstenzer. “When my mom died, I grieved, but I also remembered her beautiful heart and the colours she brought into my life. Death doesn’t remove the colours of our memories. I think it is a different aspect of grief, just as there are different ways to tell the same story.”
The two shows run until May 18.
Olga Livshin is a Vancouver freelance writer. She can be reached at [email protected].