Jean-Sébastien (JS) Gauthier is a sculptor, new media artist who adopts diverse forms of inquiry and experimentation to create works of time-based art. To this end he deploys an interdisciplinary mix of technical and conceptual approaches ranging from traditional sculpture practice, interactive video production, performance art, 3D rendering and most recently cutting-edge scientific imaging technologies.
Your art spans a wide range of topics and incorporates many different materials. Can you discuss how you balance traditional approaches with newer technologies?
Indeed, in terms of incorporating diverse practices, my approach is primarily driven by curiosity. My grandfather was a traditional bronze caster and figurative sculptor, so I grew up surrounded by sculpture, deeply rooted in the European tradition. This upbringing gave me a practical understanding of materials and processes.
As for integrating technology, over the years, I’ve focused on engaging with various tools, particularly those that translate a sense of immediacy, like live video. This has been a significant aspect of my work, along with embedding myself in the meaning of the projects I undertake. Performance has played a vital role in various aspects of my practice. My interest in working with technology stemmed from a personal fascination with computers, imaging, video games, and information technology. I was curious about how these technologies functioned and their role in imaging.
This curiosity led me to explore video creation, and I became increasingly interested in incorporating 3D elements into my sculpture and performance work. Gradually, I gained an understanding of some imaging technologies. When I approached the synchrotron in Saskatoon, a scientific imaging facility, I lacked a scientific background. However, my technical understanding of working with images digitally, through video, photography, and computing, helped me grasp the concepts involved.
I don’t adhere to a strict separation between digital and traditional sculpture in my work. Instead, I view them as integrated elements, utilizing the tools that are now available. I hope this explanation makes sense.
What is your background and what role does research play in your work?
I’m currently pursuing a Master of Fine Arts at the University of Saskatchewan, largely inspired by my experience teaching remotely during the pandemic. This period significantly shaped my desire to teach and led me to explore a new research paradigm at the university.
In my work, particularly in pieces like ‘Fulcrum’ and ‘Level,’ I continue to delve into the themes I first encountered in my sci-art collaborations with Brian Ames, a scientist specializing in developmental biology, anatomy, pharmacology, and physiology at the university. The concept of interconnectedness between humans and other animals has greatly intrigued me. Through these works, I aim to expand my understanding of collaboration with other beings and delve deeper into the ethics of medical research, especially its often extractive nature in relation to animals.
These explorations have led me to contemplate my own connections to my surroundings, particularly trees and wood. I’m intrigued by how technology is reshaping our perception of beings as mere information and the implications of such a shift. A significant part of my focus has been on my personal relationship with wood—materials I’ve sourced from my environment, including trees I planted as a child and others affected by natural events.
In these projects, I utilize open-source methodologies for all electronics, consciously distancing myself from corporate approaches. This choice reflects my pursuit of a non-extractive, symbiotic relationship with my materials, aiming to create works that address the broad and complex challenges we face today.
Okay. So, what is your process like? Where do you tend to start? Do you start with a general idea? Do you see something that sparks something? Is there a question you want to explore?
My approach to research and creation doesn’t have a definitive beginning or end; it’s a continuous journey. A key aspect of my methodology is acknowledging that there might always be something new to learn, which helps me remain open to new ideas. This openness often incorporates a significant degree of intuition and happenstance in my work.
My engagement with developmental biology and the synchrotron, for instance, stemmed from an initial interest in imaging and physics. I tend to follow my instincts, checking in with my gut feelings and moving towards areas that pique my curiosity. For example, my interest in wood and the concept of digital folk art emerged during the pandemic when I couldn’t continue my usual work at the university lab. The shift from computational work to more physical activities, like sculpting, was a refreshing change. It led me to establish a routine that involves immersing myself in the lab environment and continually learning.
My curiosity extended to toolmaking within the scientific realm, and how creating objects to manipulate samples could inform my work. This interest naturally evolved into exploring hand tools, which offered a new perspective on movement and interaction. The relationship between myself, the tool, and the transformation of a tree became a focal point of my exploration. While it may simply seem like carving, it’s more about discovering what’s already present in the materials I work with.
I tend to gravitate towards what’s immediately accessible to me. For instance, working with scientific imaging at the synchrotron was a natural choice, as it’s located in my city. This proximity allowed me to initiate dialogues and collaborations easily.
In professional settings, like responding to a call for work, I try to understand the requirements and then allow my ideas to flow and evolve. However, in my Master’s program, I’m focusing on ‘de-skilling’ or stepping away from my habitual ways of working. This process involves exploring new methods and altering my reasoning, marking a significant shift in my approach to my work.
One of your works, Ground, deviates from your prior work to a degree. While it still has aspects of developmental biology, it manages to be very personal at the same time. Can you discuss?
The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC) initiated a project with me for a temporary performance work. At that time, I was already involved with the College of Medicine at the University of Saskatchewan, specifically in the departments of anatomy, physiology, and pharmacology. My collaboration with Brian Ames, a developmental biologist here, has been ongoing for about five years. Through this partnership, I gained access to imaging technologies, primarily focusing on the developmental biology of embryos and exploring the associated ethical dimensions.
During this period, I had a studio visit from Peter Morin, an artist from Toronto who teaches at the Ontario College of Art and Design (OCAD). As an indigenous artist, Peter’s work focuses on relationships, and he posed thought-provoking questions during his visit. Particularly, he inquired about the medical aspect of my work, considering its association with the College of Medicine and the use of scientific medical imaging technologies. He challenged me to consider how my artwork, while using a research paradigm, could contribute to healing or resonant actions that benefit the community.
While I don’t claim that my pieces have achieved this, my intention is to validate and honor the survival technologies and knowledge of the indigenous communities in Treaty Six Territory. This area is home to Cree, Dene, Saulteaux, and Métis peoples. My grandparents were settlers on this land, arriving in the late 1920s. As a descendant of settlers, I am interested in exploring a different perspective on the land through medical imaging.
One story that inspired my work is about my grandmother, who, as a child, walked in the furrows when the land in northern Saskatchewan was first plowed for farming. She shared memories of the sensation of walking on freshly turned soil and finding food stores from the surrounding indigenous communities, unaware of their significance. Through my work, I aim to restore and respect this knowledge.
Pemmican, a staple food of the region, is an example of this indigenous knowledge. It’s a sustenance food made from dried bison meat mixed with fat, ground into a powder, and combined with local berries, spices, and bone marrow. This high-protein, nutrient-dense food can be preserved for years, vital for survival in the harsh winters of the plains. The process of settlement in Saskatchewan, a region uniquely defined by straight lines rather than natural geographic boundaries, has often overlooked the sophistication of indigenous lifestyles and their sustainable practices. My project aims to draw attention to this sophistication and offer a narrative that is conciliatory, avoiding perpetuation of harmful stereotypes and instead celebrating the indigenous way of life.
The concept of ‘Ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny’ is central to the recapitulation theory we explored. This theory posits that early developmental phases of an organism are unique to each species. However, there’s a point in development – often likened to an hourglass – where various species exhibit high similarities. After this point, the developmental paths diverge again. This theory illustrates shared ancestry among fish, mammals, reptiles, and other species by observing their developmental stages.
Our project aimed to create a visualization of this concept using different species commonly used in research. We worked with three species: Xenopus tropicalis (a frog), Danio rerio (zebrafish), which we had previously imaged for another piece, and a chicken. When observing the embryos of these species side by side during certain developmental phases, their similarities were strikingly evident.
To bring this concept to life, we utilized the Xbox Kinect, a hands-free gaming tool. This technology allowed us to create an interactive experience where participants could move around and engage with the different specimens virtually. It was designed to be intuitive and playful, akin to moving beach balls, allowing users to interact with and explore the developmental similarities among chicken, frog, and zebrafish embryos in an engaging and educational way.
One of your projects, Primitive Streak, made me chuckle a little. Looking at the different shapes is like looking at a cloud when you start seeing different shapes. It’s amazing and at the same time, it’s really weird.
For the ‘Project Room Cabinets of Curiosities’ exhibition in the city, I had a limited timeframe to concentrate my efforts. This project piqued my interest in how civilization is a testament to the ingenuity of various life forms. A fascinating discovery for me was learning that Neanderthals were the first industrial species, known for developing birch bark tar. This was particularly intriguing as I had previously attempted to create birch bark tar during a collaborative art event with an artist from Georgia, where our challenge was to create something without using any modern tools. We engaged in gathering birch bark, an experience that connected me to this ancient, innovative species.
My interest was further piqued by the observation that embryos, though sculptural in appearance, possess a degree of translucency and semi-transparency in their cells. This observation led me to draw parallels between the innovation of Neanderthals and the developmental process of other species, including Homo sapiens sapiens. It struck me how closely these two aspects – the creation of new materials and the intricate development of life forms – are related.
This exploration extended to examining the role of animals in our creative processes and history. For instance, I delved into the significance of chickens in art history. While it might seem comical at first, the interrelationship with this animal is profound and often overlooked. My work aimed to explore and validate these relationships, shedding light on connections that might have been previously ignored or underestimated.
Zebrafish figure prominently in some of your work. Why?
Zebrafish are a prime example of a model organism used extensively in scientific research. Collaborating with Brian Ames, a scientist who has worked with zebrafish in the U.S., I learned about their importance. Zebrafish were among the earliest vertebrates to have their genome sequenced, which underscores their significance in genetic research.
Their role in my work ties back to my ongoing interest in the relationships between animals and our own physiology, particularly aspects like the ‘reptilian brain’ and other evolutionary traits in our morphology that may relate to other species. Prior to this collaboration, I was already intrigued by the connections between humans and other species. The extensive use of zebrafish in research made them a natural subject for examining the intersections between ourselves and animals.
This work with zebrafish also highlights the practical aspects of art-science collaborations. Establishing a meaningful relationship between artists and scientists is crucial due to the distinct specializations and differing nature of our fields. A strong foundation in collaboration is essential to bridge these two disciplines effectively.
Can discuss your collaboration with Brian Ames. You’ve mentioned him quite a bit. What’s the relationship like?
Our collaboration has evolved into a friendship, which plays a significant role in our work together. It was crucial for me to engage with a scientist without merely translating information or compromising my artistic integrity. Thankfully, we’ve managed to maintain our respective roles as artist and scientist while making our collaboration relevant and exciting for both fields.
From the outset, we challenged ourselves to respect our individual specializations—me as an artist and my collaborator as a scientist—yet aimed to create something that was mutually engaging. This approach ensured that our collaboration wasn’t just a superficial exercise or a simplification of the scientific work for artistic purposes. Instead, we sought to immerse ourselves in the context of each other’s work, which I view as a performative act. This immersion means not just passively observing, but actively implicating myself in the complexities of the scientific field, ensuring the experience is meaningful and authentic.
Our collaboration requires more than just professional interaction; it’s about relationship building and effective communication. Our compatible personalities have significantly contributed to the success of our partnership. We met about seven years ago, and since then, our relationship has grown beyond professional boundaries. Our children play together, we celebrate occasions like Thanksgiving together—these shared experiences have enriched our collaboration.
Being friends isn’t a prerequisite for successful collaboration, but having both parties genuinely interested in understanding each other’s perspectives is vital. This balance has been key to the success and meaningfulness of our joint efforts.
You work with the combination of science and art, theoretically and physically. What does Art have to offer Science and what does Science have to offer Art?
Each field, art and science, has its unique strengths. I perceive art as an embodied, live state—a way of being in the world that is particularly effective in developing meaningful experiences and ethics. Art’s openness and its focus on the transmission and sharing of knowledge are significant strengths. This aspect aligns well with science, which also values the sharing of information, albeit in a different way.
Science is remarkable for its methodical approach, allowing for novel observations and experiences. However, it can sometimes be constrained by conventions and a utilitarian approach to the meaning of its work. Art can infuse broader, more general meanings into scientific endeavors and expand the scope of scientific results into different paradigms. Those trained in image making and meaning creation in the arts can offer unique perspectives on the implications and ethics of scientific research.
Conversely, the clarity and structured communication methods in science provide a validating and refreshing change for someone coming from the arts, which is more like an open playground. The structures in science facilitate a different kind of knowledge transmission.
While novelty is central in both creative and scientific work, the outcomes differ—one being artistic expression and the other scientific observation or result. Yet, there are many complementary aspects between the two fields. Nina Seed Lady, a speaker at an art and science conference I attended, highlighted the lack of a shared lexicon between these disciplines. She challenged attendees to develop this shared language, which I find to be an intriguing proposal. The closer we come to creating a lexicon for collaboration between arts and sciences, the more liberated and open our work can become, moving beyond mere utilization of each other’s resources or superficial interpretations of research, towards a more integrated and informed collaboration.
IMAGE CREDIT: JS Gauthier
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