In February of this year, modern art lost an important figure. Of the hundreds of paintings, drawings, and prints left behind after Antoni Tàpies’ demise, more than 80 have been acquired by Montreal’s Museum of Fine Arts due to the generosity of several donors. In Memoriam: Thirty-Three Prints and a Drawing by the Catalan Master will commemorate this prodigy’s “originality, richness, and depth.”

Essentially self-taught, Tàpies abandoned his legal studies in Barcelona to pursue art. Since 1945, he worked prolifically to create an unparalleled opus that would soon mark him as the leading artistic figure in post-war Spain. Working under Franco’s regime, a tumultuous  period of brutal and bloody civil war and subsequent iron-fisted totalitarianism, Tàpies deals unapologetically with the unpleasant. Defecation, death, detritus: the dirty and dark are not off-limits here, as the artist willingly shares.

Expect the exhibition to reflect Tàpies’ uniqueness and unconventionality. His lifelong exploration and experimentation with media characterized his work and led to his association with Art Informel, a movement that was centred on the expressive nature of materials and the creational process. Tàpies made exquisite use of some unorthodox approaches: embossing, collage, tearing, folding, cutting, impasto, and graffiti are all put to use. He also incorporates found objects, stones, earth, and footprints, similar to how Jackson Pollock would scatter  items from his pockets over his paintings and walk through them. Tàpies’ colour-blocking technique calls to mind the work of Rothko, who first used this method; his inclusion of writing, fine lines, shape, and striking contrasts recall Russian Suprematism, and other works by Malevich and Kandisky, though his paintings and multimedia have nothing in common with these figures. Tàpies’ style invokes  avant-garde techniques that marked the 20th century and were pioneered by his most famous predecessors, but remains very much his own.

Discounting his fame and numerous awards, why care about this deceased, left-of-field artist? Having inherited the world of Picasso and Miró, Spanish artists of the mid-20th century were left with very large shoes to fill. Tàpies did much more than just fill them; he left behind a legacy of his own. Tàpies’ contribution to painting and printmaking is momentous, and the idea that his work was influenced by the philosophy and writings of Jean-Paul Sartre is nothing short of intriguing. History, modernity, aesthetic beauty, and introspective thought converge in the artist’s works. Nothing is off limits, neither in theme nor media—creation and controversy are at the heart of this exhibit.

In Memoriam: Thirty-Three Prints and a Drawing by the Catalan Master is on display at the MMFA’s Graphic Arts Centre and runs until December 9, 2012. Free admission.

Listening to The Romantics reminds me of hanging out with an old friend. The kind you can go months without seeing, but fall back into familiar rhythm in no time at all; the kind with whom you can tear up the town, or just sit on your bed, and have a great time either way.

The debut LP from Canada’s own Inlet Sound offers a rare mix of energy, quiet emotion, and sheer entertainment which eludes many albums. Catchy, upbeat songs, like “Magnetic North” and “Mademoiselle”—with plenty of references to lead singer and guitarist Michael Wexler’s hometown, Montreal—pull listeners in, while slower numbers like “Mail Order” or “Amber Skies” leave them feeling relaxed, if slightly reflective.

Inlet Sound first formed three years ago when Wexler met keyboardist Sean Hardy, living in a student house in Hamilton, Ontario. From there, the band has experienced some turnover, ultimately adding Steven Gore (violin, mandolin), Curtis Murphy (bass), and Katie MacLean (drums, vocals) to the lineup. The group draws from diverse musical influences, including ‘70s folk revival, blues, and electronic. This diversity led to the adoption of the group’s unique name.

“Because we come from fairly different musical backgrounds, we wanted something twofold,” says Wexler. “One, an homage to Canadiana a little bit, because there is still that folky element to us. And second-fold, we wanted to have a name that was reflective of convergence … and the image of an inlet or a sound—our name is kind of redundant in a sense, because an inlet and a sound are the same thing—was that visual imagery of things coming together.”

The name of the album, too, hints at their attitude towards music.

“Sean … threw it out there: ‘Why don’t we call it The Romantics?’” recalls Wexler. “It just seemed to be a perfect marker for all the … concepts of the idealization of youth, and romanticism and impending cynicism and all these things that come with growing up.… It just seemed like a nice umbrella for what we were going for, plus it’s very grand-sounding, and that’s what we wanted to go for also.”

With comparisons being drawn to big names such as The Decemberists, Death Cab for Cutie, and Mumford and Sons, Inlet Sound certainly delivers. Wexler cites working with Canadian producer Laurence Currie (Sloan, Hey Rosetta!, Wintersleep) as a big reason for the recording process having gone as well as it did.

“It’s just a lot of fun to be around [Currie]. And I think another good thing from a creative standpoint is … [to] allow other ideas to come flow together and make it a little more of a collaborative effort … that was a really rewarding experience,” says Wexler.

However, what challenged Wexler the most was not knowing how, exactly, the project would turn out when all was said and done.

“Because [the recording process] was such a long stretch of time … we didn’t want to lose the idea that gave [the album] push from the beginning,” he admits. “It was kind of hard in the sense that … we had to see it change, and I guess that was the hardest thing, because we lose control a little bit; and I think I’m a bit of control freak sometimes, so to not really know how it was gonna change was both exciting and terrifying at the same time.”

The Romantics is very much a mix of the old and new, reworked Inlet Sound classics matched with completely new tracks written to fit the album’s grand, emotional, coming-of-age theme.

“We had about three or four songs on the album that were old songs that we totally revisited, and then there were a whole bunch of other ones that were totally new … based on the concept that we had for this record and what we were going through,” says Wexler. “There are specific tracks on this record, like “Romantics I” and “[Romantics] II”, [that] come from a similar place and a similar concept both musically and emotionally. They’re supposed to be the thesis and antithesis to each other.”

For a band at the outset of their career, Inlet Sound are anything but amateur. As for the future, Wexler keeps it simple.

“Growth in terms of being able to write and create different type of stuff,” says Wexler regarding the band’s future plans. “Growth in terms of being able to play to new audiences and new places, bigger audiences.… Just to be able to keep loving what we’re doing—because if you don’t love it any more, then it just doesn’t seem worth it; and right now we’re loving it.”

Inlet Sound plays at Divan Orange on Nov. 18 with Pugs and Crows. Doors open at 9 p.m. Admissions are $10.

The McCord Museum is showcasing Edward Curtis, an early 20th century photographer, with an exhibit of images from his encyclopedia The North American Indian.

Sepia-hued photographs hang delicately on dark blue walls. Images fill the gallery: a young Mohave girl stares directly into the camera; three Apsaroke horseriders recede into the distance; an Arikara medicine man stands wrapped in his bear skin.

Between 1906 and 1930 Curtis resolved to photograph as many Indigenous peoples of North America as he could, as a way to preserve what was thought of as ‘the vanishing Indian.’ This belief developed from two circumstances: one was the rapid population decline caused by war, slavery, and diseases introduced by European immigration; the other was the program of forced assimilation of Indigenous peoples into mainstream society.

Curtis travelled throughout Canada and the United States, and took approximately 40,000 pictures. Critics pointed out that he staged his photographs to show an idealized vision of Indigenous peoples—for example, by portraying horsemen wearing headdresses into battle when in fact these were only meant to be worn on very rare occasions, and the right to wear one had to be earned. Curtis received additional criticism for editing his shoots so that Western objects, like clocks, were removed from the final print. His motive, however, did not seem  exploitative—rather, aim was to show Indigenous peoples in their original environment, as though untouched by European technological or economic influences.

In light of these criticisms, it is interesting to compare Curtis’ work to that of American photographer Timothy O’Sullivan. O’Sullivan is renowned not only for his American Civil War pictures but also for the realism in his images of Indigenous peoples. Instead of shooting portraits of subjects in ceremonial dress, a style that Curtis employed, O’Sullivan instead chose to photograph individuals as they appeared in their everyday life, even if they had a semblance of a Western influence in dress or artifact.

Keeping Timothy O’Sullivan’s work in mind when viewing the McCord exhibit makes for an interesting experience. There is a certain poignancy to the photographs because of Curtis’ naive attempt to sustain the idealized and romantic view of Indigenous peoples in his era.

At the same time, Curtis’ images of Indigenous peoples in their traditional milieu serve as a contrast to the current-day, when Indigenous peoples in cities remain invisible, but stereotypical images of them persist.

McCord’s exhibit is an invaluable opportunity for discussion of societal portrayals of Indigenous peoples, both past and present.

Edward Curtis: Beyond Measure runs until November 18 at the McCord Museum (690 Sherbrooke West.) Student admission $8; free admission every Wednesday from 5 p.m. to 9 p.m.