Deal with this violence: Painter forces viewers to grapple with collective pain, suffering

By Stephanie Ip, The Province April 23, 2013

Blood. Tears. Flames, mayhem and seared flesh.

In recent days, it’s become impossible to avoid images of pain and suffering.

Photos from Monday’s Boston Marathon bombings show victims being rushed to hospital, clutching what would soon be unimaginably horrific amputations for many. Other images show blood splattered down the sidewalk of Boylston Street.

Then on Wednesday, a fertilizer company in rural Texas was torched by an earth-shaking explosion that injured dozens, their agony unheard by first responders who, at first, couldn’t get close enough to help due to the flames.

A video of the incident circulating online shows the building engulfed by the blaze only seconds before the deafening explosion rocks a car carrying the videographer and his daughter. The smartphone filming the scene is fumbled and the screen goes dark before a small voice can be heard.

“Dad. Get out of here. Please, get out of here,” repeats the panicked child, urging her dad to drive away from the scene.

“Oh my god. Please, get out of here.”

That discomfort, uncertainty and fear is what Vancouver painter James Picard hopes to provoke in those who see the work in his exhibition, The Dark and The Wounded.

The pieces in the collection feature deep and wonderfully rich images depicting terrible things, some loosely related to or inspired by current events. The venues for the exhibition are equally eerie — the Vancouver première of his show took place last October in Coquitlam’s shuttered Riverview Psychiatric Hospital.

Next week, Picard will take the exhibition to Los Angeles, where his work will be displayed in the abandoned 100-year-old Lincoln Heights Jail, closed since 1965. He’s also in talks to host the exhibition on the infamous Alcatraz Island in San Francisco Bay.

The result of such gruesome pieces in haunting locations is an unsettling of the viewer’s every sense and emotion, forcing one to look deeper into the pain and suffering that makes us uncomfortable, and how we can move beyond it.

“The idea of wounds is that, when we don’t look at it, we don’t deal with it. It festers and becomes infected,” Picard shared with The Province. “The same thing goes for the human psyche.

“By not looking at these wounds — these dark areas of humanity — they never get the chance to heal.”

The 49-year-old, who also teaches at the Emily Carr University of Art and Design, is no stranger to moving outside of his comfort zone.

As a child, he doodled under his sheets by flashlight, since there was little support in his home for his fledging artistic talent. That cocoon, however, perhaps provided more than just a hidden canvas — it also gave a small boy a sense of protection.

Picard was raised in an abusive home by an alcoholic father. Then when he was 19, his sister — whom he calls his “war buddy”, citing their difficult childhood together — was killed in a random act of violence in New York.

“For me, a lot of these wounds can happen during childhood. There are things we do to survive in childhood — we develop defence mechanisms,” he said. If children aren’t counselled or given the chance to heal from these afflictions, Picard believes, it could evolve into an adult tendency to turn a blind eye when faced with challenges and difficulties.

For Picard, his path to recovery was through the process of painting, and exploring what wounds remained in himself. In his piece titled Apparitions, viewers stare into the pallid faces of young schoolchildren, sitting shoulder to shoulder, row by row. Their clothing is colourful, but their expressions are blank and mournful, awash in grey.

“It’s interesting when children have their photos taken — they’re innocent but there’s a lot of stuff there that we can’t see,” Picard said, noting the piece is meant to imitate school portraits and the secret home lives children lead.

Then only days after completing the piece, Picard was in L.A. and turned on his hotel room TV to see news reports of the Sandy Hook shooting that killed twenty children and six adults.

Instantly, he knew that was what the painting was meant to communicate and has made the connection in every exhibition of the piece since the December 2012 shooting.

“As an artist and a human being, I look around the world and see all these horrible things happening and all these terrible things that keep happening,” said Picard. “We’re not getting deep enough … to figure out what’s going on here. One of our problems is that we live for a bit and then we get distracted and then we don’t focus on it anymore.”

Picard hopes that drawing on the subject matters seen in current events and around the world will help each person find a common thread in his exhibition, forcing the audience to keep pertinent issues at the forefront of the collective conscience.

“If we look at our wounds and find solutions to solve them, these wouldn’t be reoccurring things. It would’ve ended at Columbine,” he said, citing the various shootings that have continued since the 1999 massacre.

“We have to stop and communicate and talk about this and come to an understanding with ourselves and each other.

“This is my own intervention.”

Picard plans to bring The Dark and The Wounded back to Vancouver for another exhibition in the fall. For more updates on the tour and his work, visit jamespicard.com.

James Picard Explores Dark and Wounded at Haunted Jail/Hospital in Los Angeles

By C.C. Trusell

Artist James Picard with his Dark and Wounded Crew at Linda Vista Hospital

Artist James Picard had a curious event that happened April 27 and April 29 here in L.A. He exhibited a body of work in an LA prison and hospital that have both been long abandoned and said to be haunted. The world-renowned painter has been delving into the human psyche with his new works and is breaking new ground by exhibiting these pieces in the most unlikely of places.

Not knowing what to expect from either venue caused much anxiety and curiosity, something missing in the art world these days.

Both exhibitions took place at night which added to the eerie feeling that both buildings were being attended by more than just human patrons. I myself felt my skin crawl more than once while wandering the echoing walkways and isolated cells of the Lincoln Heights Jail.

The paintings were strategically placed in selected cells throughout the darkened prison and lit with small flashlights. This was accompanied by an incredibly haunting soundtrack, created for the exhibit by the renowned Los Angeles musician/composer Jeff Danna, which seemed to give the paintings a voice, which enabled them to command complete control of the vast and ghostly building.

I also observed something interesting during my time spent with these artworks. They all seemed so comfortable there. It was as if they had always been there and it was where they belonged.  Each one of Picard’s paintings seemed just as much a part of the jail as those who were incarcerated there in the past. And just like those prisoners who walked the hallways and looked out from behind their cell bars, each of these paintings had an individual message about pain and anguish and what it’s like to be a wounded human being on the planet.

Picard is definitely on to something here. His understanding of the human condition is almost scary. He creates with a skill and energy that literally makes his artistic creations appear before you like a spiritual entity which is enhanced by Jeff Danna’s music which permeates you to the core and makes it very hard to disengage from the paintings.

When I left the Lincoln Heights Jail exhibition, I felt compelled to spend a little time absorbing all that I had taken in. I was glad that others had been wandering around with me that evening. It was a good feeling knowing others had experienced this as well.

As for the haunted Linda Vista Hospital, which was the second of the Picard Dark and Wounded Los Angeles exhibitions, I was not able to attend. I did however send a friend who phoned me on her way home from the exhibit. This was not so much of an update as it was more of an, “OMG, I have to tell you what I just experienced!”

The Linda Vista Hospital is on the list of most haunted places in North America. Its doors closed decades ago and locked shut after too many murders, homicide investigations and malpractice suits. Many Paranormal investigations have taken place inside these rooms and hallways and have uncovered some very disturbing findings, especially in the basement near the morgue. This is precisely where Picard hung the majority of his paintings and set up an easel to paint in the morgue as well.

Again, just like Lincoln Heights Jail, the hallways were darkened and small dim lighting illuminated the paintings that were scattered throughout the hallways, operating rooms and in the morgue itself.  I was told that there was an incredible other-worldly presence throughout the building; the air was warm and thick with the smell of sickness from death and cold spots could be felt throughout the basement where at times it would cause you to shudder.

I had not yet told my friend of my experience at Lincoln Heights Jail, so I was a little taken back when she told me that she somehow felt that “Picard’s paintings belonged there.”

It takes an incredible amount of courage to put on an art exhibition that makes us think, feel and look inside ourselves to this extent. But this is exactly what Picard is asking us to do. Step out of your comfort zone; look at the art that Picard has created; crawl deep within the darkness of humanity and within the darkness inside of yourselves and explore. Picard lets us know that it will be okay because he has gone deep into the abyss with each and every painting he is displaying and he comes back each time with a message to be heard. And from the response of those who attended either of these L.A. exhibitions, it seems the message is coming across loud and clear.

For those who have not yet attended any of the Dark and Wounded exhibits I strongly suggest you do not miss them. They are definitely an amazing once-in-a-lifetime experience.

For further information on James Picard or his Dark and Wounded Series, check out his website at www.jamespicard.com or www.facebook.com/darkandwounded

By Jessie-Olsen

A serial killer that recreates famous artworks by posing his murdered victims in the same position and photographing them including the Ophelia death scene that was painted by John Everett Millais is definitely a great idea for a film. Nancy Grace’s New York Times bestselling book (with the same title) was the idea behind the movie.

Jennie Garth (Beverly Hills 90210) plays Hailey Dean, an Assistant District Attorney who, after sealing the fate of serial killer Clinton Burrell Cruise (played by Colin Cunningham) with a first degree murder charge, is attacked by Cruise in open court with a promise to Hailey that he’ll send her to Hell before he ever gets there. Enter Garlan Fincher (L.A. Lakers forward, a.k.a. Metta World Peace) to save Dean just in the knick-of-time and pull Cruise off of her.

After being physically attacked in the courtroom, Hailey decides enough is enough and leaves her career behind to pursue a therapy practise in New York City vowing to start helping people before they are killed.

Flash forward two years and Hailey, still on prescription pills to help her anxiety from the past, begins to relive the nightmare as her patients start to show up dead with the same M.O. as that of the man she put behind bars, Clinton Cruise.

Dr. Hailey Dean is soon under suspicion of murder and taken into custody while the real killer plots his ultimate revenge in his warehouse studio.

After another patient is killed, this time being posed like the famous painting ‘Flaming June’ by artist Sir Frederic Leighton (1895) and Hailey’s receptionist becomes targeted by Cruise, the plot thickens to a fever peak with the killer bringing the former Assistant D.A. to his studio to create his ultimate masterpiece.

The ending has a plot twist that gives the Eleventh Victim a very nice opening for a sequel and the great performance by Colin Cunningham and the rest of the cast, along with some great original art visuals; especially Cruise’s jail cell that is plastered floor to ceiling with drawings, (done by world renowned artist and painter James Picard) help make The Eleventh Victim a very good thriller indeed.

Los Angeles November 4, 2012 – By Johnathan Peele

The Lifetime movie, The Eleventh Victim, based on Nancy Grace’s New York Times bestselling novel of the same name aired on Sunday evening to mixed reviews. Jennie Garth (of 90210 fame) stars as Hailey Reid, prosecutor turned therapist, who is being stalked by a violent offender that Ms. Reid put behind bars and he is now released and seeking revenge. The artist/killer Cruise is played by Colin Cunningham, who likes to pose his victims as master paintings, and after killing several of Hailey’s patients and her secretary, he plans on making Hailey his piece de resistance and posing her as the “Death of Cleopatra” painting by Reginald Arthur.

Metta World Peace (or the former basketball star known as Ron Artest) has got Hailey’s back as detective Garlin Fincher and comes to the rescue of his dear old prosecutor friend, although he should have stopped and taken a few more acting lessons on the way.

One of the highlights of the movie about the artist turned serial killer is that there is a lot of art in the movie. Cruise sketches his victim (Hermoine Granger) in an art history class, his jail cell is covered floor to ceiling with his drawings and his studio is full of artwork.

Artist James Picard was hired to create the art pieces for the movie and the art is some of the best I have seen and definitely one of the high points of watching the movie, well that and the fact we see Cruise break into Hailey’s apartment, drink her orange juice and then spit it back into the container for her to drink. Thank you Lifetime, revenge is sweet.

October 27th, 2012. You may want to mark that date in your calendar. James Picard’s new painting series is something out of the ordinary. He has now raised the bar and could have established a new direction the art world takes from now on. The exhibition took place on a dark and stormy night in an abandoned Psychiatric Asylum just outside Vancouver, British Columbia. The paintings, a series of dark and disturbing images from the mind of world renowned painter James Picard, the message: Enter the darkness of the human psyche, step out of your comfort zone and walk the hallways and rooms that Picard himself lives in.

Starting from the long and windy drive onto the Asylums grounds, one immediately gets an overwhelming feeling of dread. The wind howls and I can almost make out an eerily whispered moan as I approach the huge menacing building that used to house many a dark and wounded soul, but now remains empty. I am relieved to see a few cars and trucks parked outside; otherwise I may not have left the safety of my vehicle.

I was greeted by a doorman at the main entranceway, and after being checked off of the guest list, I ventured down a darkened hallway, minimally lit, which was causing a heightened state to my already increasing anxiety. Rounding a corner I spot another human being about halfway down the corridor, once again relieving my fears of being alone in unfamiliar surroundings. I was welcomed into the main exhibition space by a casually dressed woman with a friendly smile. I took a deep breath and entered Picard’s The Dark and The Wounded exhibit. I could never have anticipated what was about to be unveiled before me. Five large oil paintings unlike anything I have ever seen. Twisted masses of flesh portrayed on the canvases, each conjuring up incredible emotion within me. It was then I heard the music. It echoed through the halls leading up to the exhibit, but I didn’t realize its intensity fully until I was in front of the paintings. It seemed to feed them and give them a voice, a voice that would strengthen the paintings presence as I continued through the exhibition. The composer of the music, I found out later on, was the world renowned musician Jeff Danna, who has written music for Hollywood features such as Terry Gilliam’s, “The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassis” and Tim Blake Nelson’s “The Grey Zone”. The collaboration between painter and composer was pure magic. The venue, paintings and music combined left me feeling I had entered a world I had never been in before. I was speechless and in awe, but much more was waiting inside, just behind the cold steel iron gate.

I then stepped into what could be described as a dungeon setting. The temperature immediately dropped. I felt a cold shudder run up my spine and I was face to face with some of the most incredibly personal and impacting paintings I have ever seen. I heard a gasp from a couple who just entered a room about thirty feet away from me, I jumped. The atmosphere was intense. I noticed that there was little talk among the patrons, mainly whispers and gasps and sobbing. These paintings were going right to the core of human emotions. It was extremely uneasy to look at these works of art and yet I was feeling a strange sense of familiarity with them. I passed through the wrought iron gate and past three painting of wounded figures that seemed to all vie for my attention. I turned to my right and it was then that I was face to face with a large six foot canvas entitled “Wounded Woman”. I could feel a lump forming in my throat, my eyes were becoming teary and I felt like I was transported to a time when I was a young girl struggling with my identity and a very deep scar which caused a life-long internal struggle I still carry with me today. This painting felt my pain and I felt hers. I felt a hand on my shoulder and a voice asked me if I was okay. It was the woman who had gasped behind me, I noticed her wide eyes as she slowly acknowledged my affirmative nod and left my side and joined her companion who was already moving on through the darkened exhibition.

As I moved away from that incredible painting and further into the depths of the exhibit, I noticed down at the far end a huge painting of what looked like ghostly children. It stayed on my radar as I slowly made my way past paintings which seemed to pierce the very core of my being. An image of a man in a hospital bed that literally sent shivers down my spine; a grouping of creatures so nightmarish that they would give Goya the “creeps” and a clown portrait that I had to pass by with only a quick glimpse as it would have brought my coulrophobia to a whole new level. Picard seemed to touch on all our darkness and fears, all our wounds and scars. It is as if the artist has immersed himself in all the darkness that has touched humanity and brought it to the surface so we could connect with it and start our own individual healing process. Once again I am in awe.

Just before the large room at the end of exhibition space, I noticed a small darkened room with two small lights illuminating a large six or seven foot high painting. There was a single chair inside facing the image of what appeared to be a ghostly figure pressing up against the canvas from the other side. I entered and sat down and immediately began to interact with the being. I began to feel claustrophobic and felt the urge to pull the image out from his trapped world and into mine. It was then I realized that he was the fear we all have inside, and he was close to the surface just waiting to be acknowledged and cared for. I am not too sure how long I was in the room but I was moved to tears by the time I exited.

The final room was once again filled with incredible paintings of both dark and wounded souls. I moved slowly to each painting, close to fifty in the entire exhibit and came to a dead stop in front of the large seven foot by six foot canvas entitled “Dark and Wounded Apparitions”. A painting so chilling and full of 35 or 40 wounded children taking a pose that was similar to an old school class photograph, but there was a spectral mist surrounding them and they slowly transformed from a group of realistic frightened children in the front row, to ghostly apparitions, some twisted beyond human recognition. It reminded me of all the school photographs I was in as a child or have looked at over the years. Everyone seemingly happy and content but knowing that there were many who were hurting and in pain. This was what Picard was getting at. We become wounded while we are young and we are taught to appear happy and content. We are taught to not look at our wounds, to create a façade that always makes things look as though they are okay, even when they are not. By looking inward we can heal. I turned around and for the first time that evening I did not feel frightened. I felt relieved. I felt like a fragile human being who was just given the okay to be myself with all my fears, with all my darkness and all my wounds. I followed the exit sign up the stairs and found myself in a darkened hallway lined with isolation cells. I looked inside several of them, imagining being confined inside. I felt overwhelming compassion for those who were kept there. I walked down the darkened hallway to the main staircase where I was greeted by a hostess who asked me how I enjoyed the exhibition. I smiled. I was handed a package, a gift from the artist to all who attended. Inside were an artist’s statement and a hand painted lithograph. I was touched by this gesture and headed outside to once again get into my vehicle, but unlike my initial approach to the evening, I felt lighter and less fearful. I experienced something that evening unlike anything I have ever experienced before, as I am sure everyone who attended would testify to as well. It has been exactly one week to the day of Picard’s The Dark and The Wounded exhibition; I have shared and discussed it with friends and colleagues. I have dreamt about it and I have relived it over and over in my mind. Yes, I experienced something much more than an art exhibit that evening and it has changed me forever. Thank you Mr. Picard, your show has come at just the right time and your talent and gift are just what is needed in the world today. And as your statement reads, “Being dark and wounded is not only about the consequences of our unacknowledged pain, it is about being aware that we all suffer, and through acceptance we can become more compassionate, towards ourselves and others and we can heal our wounds.” I hope this message catches on.