Bruce has written a new piece for Swerve,
Look Again: Chris Cran plays with perception, but he labours under no illusions.
Here’s a taste:
When you see him, he will be wearing a black T-shirt and black jeans. This is exactly the same thing he has worn since he was 16 years old. A time when, bottled up in Salmon Arm, B.C., he was called by outside forces: the pull of the Beat poets Burroughs and Ginsberg, and the rock poets like Bob Dylan. Now over 60 years of age, Cran still wears this “uniform.” But he’s never worn it to be cool. Or to obscure the damage that 500 hangovers can leave on one’s frame. He wears it so his brain is free to think about “other creative things.” Which for 40 years has been mostly one thing: painting.
In full disclosure, I have been a fan (first) and a friend of his for over 20 years. I have waited for his openings in Calgary and Toronto and watched his work get gobbled up by avid collectors. And, as a novice art collector myself, he has always indulged my dumb questions about art. “Where do you get your ideas from?” “What is that one with the wiggly lines about? Are you one of the wiggles?” Once I even asked him, in all seriousness, how long it takes for paint to dry.