The renaissance of window shopping

by Peter Goddard, Visual Arts Critic, Toronto Star, January 11, 2007

Putting art in a store isn't a bad thing. At worst, it serves as a reminder that art is merchandise of a particular kind.

What's far more interesting is when art goes even deeper into retail culture to become part of the store experience itself. Examples of this process can be found around town.

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Vid Ingelevics's "Inconvenience Store" (2006) 58 Lansdowne Ave. Few places seem so packed with ghosts as little corner stores that are closed for keeps. When they were going concerns, they watched generations of local families evolve by way of what was sold, from candy purchased by the kids to the cigarettes by the teenagers, the frozen dinners by singles, the party mixes by young couples and the baby formula as the cycle began anew.

But Ingelevics's short video loop shown in the window facing east on Lansdowne – and seen best after dusk when it's darker – is a solemn laundry list of what's now gone missing from a kind of store that itself is going missing.

"No milk," says one sign. "Out of matches," says another.

This particular space has itself morphed into the Convenience Gallery, with a few exhibitions prior to Ingelevics's already under its belt. Even so, there's a corner-store quality to it. You still want to peek at the cheap goodies that must be inside, although the windows are covered over entirely.

The outline of the original word, "convenience," painted years back on the wooden frame between the first and second floors, shielding a decaying green striped awning, is now barely visible. There's a sharp ironic contrast between it and the blunt message and bold typography used by Ingelevics.

"Inconvenience Store" had an earlier manifestation. "I was going to create a store in which everything was problematic," says the artist.

However, the Toronto photographer/teacher is also an impassioned urbanologist, whose concern over the reckless modernization of the city has resulted in a number of his letters sent to the Star's editor. Of special concern to him has been the disappearance of the little local corner store despite the fact that "the stores still working are part of the social life of the city," Ingelevics points out.

So the original bitingly satirical "Inconvenience Store" evolved into something more melancholy and richly personal.

"There is a bit of an autobiographical quality to `Inconvenience Store'," Ingelevics goes on. "The things I listed (in the video loop), like the double-A batteries, are all things I rushed to buy at one time or another. I remember going to the store for licorice and candy as a kid. I was wondering what it would mean if the convenience store was not there at all."