Jeff Nachtigall

My practice affords me the opportunity to be in a state of constant play. The studio environment constitutes the sandbox where blank surfaces and raw materials catapult me into realms of perpetual exploration. This quixotic journey is furthered with every mark made, each revealing another path suitable for my compulsive navigation.

“Do something, do something to that, and then do something to that.”  – Jasper Johns

A process of mark making that begins with an improvised act interests me. As the work evolves, carefully considered marks begin to replace the expressive gesture. The succession of these marks advances each stage of the painting, and provides fertile ground for the continuing development of content and subject matter. I respond to marks made, palettes change and evolve as color is applied and the addition of subject matter informs the potential direction of the painting. I’m not always sure where things will go and even when I have a relatively clear idea, this responsive process usually dictates the final outcome. 

I work in series, developing several paintings at one time. This serves a pragmatic purpose as it allows me to work uninterrupted for extended periods and is conducive to a steady stream of production where one idea informs the next. Like pages in a book or scenes from a movie, each is unique and significant in its own right, but ultimately belong to a greater whole. The repetition of marks and images are a direct hold over from my training as a printmaker and allow me to work on multiple variations of a theme.

Story telling is woven directly into the process of the work, often prompting the development of non-linear narratives that subsequently inform the subject matter. My work is graphic by nature and borrows from print media, advertising, comic books, popular culture and graffiti. This sensibility is combined with a deep appreciation and respect for self-taught artists intuitive mark making, use of colour and sense of composition. I frequently tip my hat to modernism and hard edge painting and continuously cite the old masters while acknowledging my contemporaries and current art direction(s) 

After a number of years in Toronto and Montreal I found myself back in Saskatchewan. My reintroduction to rural life occurred a year ago when I left Regina and moved to a three-season cabin on Last Mountain Lake. Here I find myself surrounded by a way of life that is at once familiar and exotic. Each day I trek across a frozen lake to a small studio in an abandoned building. A diesel generator supplies electricity and a wood stove provides warmth. I paint from dawn until dusk. I travel as the light allows, avoiding the dark and the cold. Coyotes howling, shadows stretching and my snowshoes chiming against the ice like dinner bells.

Meeting in The Middle.

Saskatchewan population has shrunk for the second straight quarter… and has more people leaving than arriving. Growing up here in the 80’s it was a place that many of us felt the need to escape from… eying Calgary or Toronto in our quest to find something more.

I’ve left the province multiple times and have returned as often… most recently finding myself sidetracked en route from Montreal to Europe.  I’ve been back for just over two years and something strange has happened… I like it. 

Its definitely taken time to arrive at this new found appreciation. In the past I’ve always found so much wrong or lacking … I didn’t feel l fit in. Perhaps it was turning 50 and reflecting on a life past the halfway point. Perhaps it was seeing the province through a lens of someone who had been living in Toronto and Montreal for a number of years.  I’m sure it’s a combination of many things, but when I moved into a small cabin in a small community on Last Mountain Lake I had my epiphany. 

The simplicity of rural Saskatchewan was honest and humbling. It was exotic… filled with old rusted pick up trucks, bonfires and character(s).

This feels like home and it’s got me looking into my family history.  My Father was a Displace Person and survived the ravages of World War 2 before arriving in Canada at the age of 12. My Mothers side of the family emigrated from Eastern Europe in the 1890’s and settled in the Southey and Cupar area.  

The Potato Pickers

My Uncle recently sent a photograph taken at my maternal Grandfathers farm in the early 1960’s. In it my Grandfather, Ferdinand (Fernie) is posing with a number of his children among a mountain of potatoes that the family had just finished digging up.  This was a subsistence farm… the garden fed the family year round and the sale of cream from the cows kept the meagre income trickling in between harvests.

What struck me was how old the photo looked… at first glance I’d have thought this was taken in the 30’s or 40’s. Everything looks so primitive… but this was the 60’s… and it didn’t look anything like the sophistication found in a scene from Mad Men nor the carefree beach bums or peace-loving hippies embraced by popular culture. This was a difficult time full of hard work and my Grandmother was always quick to contradict anyone who refereed to it as “the good old days”. 

I currently find myself living in a 400 square foot cabin that’s poorly insulated and heated by a wood stove. I go into the nearest town to do laundry and haul water. Winters can be long and the isolation amplifies a pandemic that see’s most social interaction limited. There were many things I’ve taken for granted. Heat or lights at the flick of a switch or water you can drink from a tap seem like a luxury to me now.  I wake up twice in the night to stoke the fire… if I don’t the temperature inside the cabin dips close to zero by morning.  I’m well past the romantic notions of living in conditions such as this… reality has set in and survival eliminates the need to post clever selfies on social media that celebrate “The Simple Life”.

I’ve found a kinship with my parents and others from their generation. I’ve gotten a glimpse into what life was like for them… the constant work that went into securing the most basic of needs. 

I want to explore this newfound connection with a past I didn’t know or was too busy running away from. I’m not interested in the nostalgia per se, but the fusing of a past and a future that helps me understand my present. I suppose if I were a historian or academic or a writer I’d go about this in different ways… write a book, or publish a paper or develop a course and teach it, but I’m a visual artist , so I paint it.

Life in a Pandemic has forced all of us inwards both physically and mentally. This increased isolation brings with it numerous challenges, but there is also an interesting parity that comes with lockdowns and social distancing. Suddenly there aren’t any benefits to living in densely populated urban centres that I had gravitated towards. A lifestyle that afforded one access to opportunities has been hampered by closures… there’s no advantage of living in downtown Montreal or Toronto when you can’t meet gallerists and curators or other artists or attend artist talks or go to openings. Being part of “The Scene” has moved online… and there is no longer any benefit that comes with place… geography doesn’t matter, and a cabin in Saskatchewan is no longer isolated… at least not in the same way it was before the pandemic.