His Stalker's Painting Very Relatable to Art Critic

Often, reviewing art is about peering into someone else's mind through the window of their paintings. This is exhilarating of course, but every once in a while you come across an artist who's work is so akin to your own thoughts and feelings, it's refreshing to feel like someone has gotten inside your head. As I view Lenard Schelp's latest collection in a small independent gallery on Queen West, I really feel like his work is speaking directly to me.

For example, when I view his landscape work, I feel like I'm transported to familiar places. His oil on canvas “Origins” makes me feel like I'm home at my family farm in New Brunswick, right down to red barn in the wheat field by the winding stream. The charcoal sketch of “Routine” captures the hustle and bustle of downtown Toronto so well, you'll swear it was sketched from the inside of the strange food truck that parks across from my paper's office every Wednesday but never opens to costumers. Finally, the small one foot square wood engraving entitled “Home” captures the restful feeling of being asleep in your own bed so well, I would swear it was carved by someone perched up in the tree outside my bedroom window. The one that was recently vandalized by some delinquent removing one foot square chunks of wood from the trunk.

The viewing is a small intimate affair. I arrived early so I could finish this review on my phone before the throngs of other art patrons overcrowd the place, but so far I am the only one here. Perhaps because the place was so hard to find, being located in a basement under an old warehouse located down an alleyway off a gravel parking lot. It would be hard to hear the trendy synth pop playing over the speakers from the street since the warehouse is right next to some train tracks. But I'm sure others will be showing up shortly.

In the back, I find Schelp's graffiti inspired collection. The art out front spoke to me metaphorically, but this does it much more directly. Deep crimson spray paint roughly scrawled on exposed brick with desperate commands like “Love Me!”, “Don't Leave Me” and “You Belong to Me.” I've still yet to see anyone one else, but I think I hear the footsteps of the artist approaching, ready to make his grand entrance.

Okay, I finally figured out what's going on and locked myself in the bathroom. Please send help before the artist's piece “Using An Axe To Get Through The Door” is complete. Though Schelp's art definitely invokes a visceral emotional response, it has too narrow an appeal for me to endorse it. I'd even call it self-indulgent. I give the collection 1 star, though I recommend that any police officers reading this review run, not walk, to see it.