Meet the dacians

Dacian Flags reminds us just how spooky church can be

EVAN JOHNSON STAFF

PHOTO: COURTESY OF ADRIAN GOREA/URBAN SHAMAN GALLERY

“I don’t want this to look like a history class,” said Adrian Gorea about his exhibit, Dacian Flags, which runs until Sept. 30 at the Urban Shaman Gallery. Indeed, the artist’s statement, found on Urban Shaman’s website, contains a few paragraphs about the history of the Dacians, who two thousand years ago inhabited the area that roughly corresponds to modern Romania, Gorea’s homeland.

“The Dacians were conquered by Romans and assimilated, thus giving birth to Romanians. Romanians took the name of the conquerors and lost most of the Dacian language,” reads the history-lesson portion of the statement.

The exhibit itself contains very little in the way of historical tract, but rather consists of four large mixed-media prints and two separate projections of shifting images. The prints vary in content but all contain ghostly priest-figures, dressed in ceremonial robes, their heads obscured by darkness or helmets and their spindly hands extending outward. The hands might be engaging in something as benign as prayer, but could just as easily be attempting to curse you and your loved ones.

“Christianity can be spooky,” Gorea admitted, after I waxed on about it for awhile. “I feel like I’ve had some nightmares where Christian saints are haunting me,” he said. “All of Europe is full of saints.” One of the prints features Gorea himself huddling unclothed and fearful in a church under a table, trying to avoid the priest that stands nearby. Ah, church! Good times.

In the most immediately striking work, Gorea cleverly probes his own cultural identity by combining ceremonial Orthodox imagery with some down-home Canadiana. In Gorea’s words: “I placed a sleeping saint lying on a Beaver bus in an orthodox church . . . I take the Beaver bus every day to work.”

In the windows of the bus are several different traditional Dacian helmets. These ornate and menacing helmets are also worn by some of the priests. “I try to combine orthodox priest garments with Dacian warrior symbols,” he explained. “I like playing with Christian icons.”

Gorea likens the Dacians and their assimilation into Roman culture after being conquered to the current situation in Europe (and the world), where English has taken over as the accepted international language. The Dacian assimilation also resembles Gorea’s own personal situation as a Romanian in Canada. “I wouldn’t have done something like this if I hadn’t come to Canada,” he said. “I came here and started questioning myself. Canada did something good for me in this way.”

Gorea’s prints are a mixture of photographic and hand-painted elements. This juxtaposition is particularly striking and effective in a print that features a warriorpriest (composed of photographic elements) standing face-to-face with a hand-drawn Dacian flag. The flag is a dragon-wolf hybrid, or a “wagon” as I like to call it. (Note: nobody else likes to call it that.) The flag’s tongue extends menacingly outward.

Because of the preponderance of darkness in each of these prints, and because of the often strange juxtaposition of elements, they often have a rather dream-like feel. One particularly amusing dream of Gorea’s that doesn’t have a presence in this particular show but is nonetheless outlined in his statement, runs as follows: “I dreamt that while all my ‘warrior priests’ were sleeping, I stole a saint. I took him home . . . I took out the saint, and undressed him. But his body was dry and black. He had died a long time ago. I tried to move him in order to place him in the TV set, so that he can be the news announcer. But he shattered into pieces.”

Dacian Flags runs until Sept. 30 in the Community Art Gallery at Urban Shaman, 290 McDermot Ave..





Volume 94 Issue 6	The Official University of Manitoba Students' Newspaper Website	September 20, 2006

Home About Us Advertise Contact Staff Current Issue PDF Employment Letters to the Editor Meet the Staff Online Archives Personals Volunteer	Font Size Respond Email Print-Friendly Meet the dacians Dacian Flags reminds us just how spooky church can be EVAN JOHNSON STAFF PHOTO: COURTESY OF ADRIAN GOREA/URBAN SHAMAN GALLERY “I don’t want this to look like a history class,” said Adrian Gorea about his exhibit, Dacian Flags, which runs until Sept. 30 at the Urban Shaman Gallery. Indeed, the artist’s statement, found on Urban Shaman’s website, contains a few paragraphs about the history of the Dacians, who two thousand years ago inhabited the area that roughly corresponds to modern Romania, Gorea’s homeland. “The Dacians were conquered by Romans and assimilated, thus giving birth to Romanians. Romanians took the name of the conquerors and lost most of the Dacian language,” reads the history-lesson portion of the statement. The exhibit itself contains very little in the way of historical tract, but rather consists of four large mixed-media prints and two separate projections of shifting images. The prints vary in content but all contain ghostly priest-figures, dressed in ceremonial robes, their heads obscured by darkness or helmets and their spindly hands extending outward. The hands might be engaging in something as benign as prayer, but could just as easily be attempting to curse you and your loved ones. “Christianity can be spooky,” Gorea admitted, after I waxed on about it for awhile. “I feel like I’ve had some nightmares where Christian saints are haunting me,” he said. “All of Europe is full of saints.” One of the prints features Gorea himself huddling unclothed and fearful in a church under a table, trying to avoid the priest that stands nearby. Ah, church! Good times. In the most immediately striking work, Gorea cleverly probes his own cultural identity by combining ceremonial Orthodox imagery with some down-home Canadiana. In Gorea’s words: “I placed a sleeping saint lying on a Beaver bus in an orthodox church . . . I take the Beaver bus every day to work.” In the windows of the bus are several different traditional Dacian helmets. These ornate and menacing helmets are also worn by some of the priests. “I try to combine orthodox priest garments with Dacian warrior symbols,” he explained. “I like playing with Christian icons.” Gorea likens the Dacians and their assimilation into Roman culture after being conquered to the current situation in Europe (and the world), where English has taken over as the accepted international language. The Dacian assimilation also resembles Gorea’s own personal situation as a Romanian in Canada. “I wouldn’t have done something like this if I hadn’t come to Canada,” he said. “I came here and started questioning myself. Canada did something good for me in this way.” Gorea’s prints are a mixture of photographic and hand-painted elements. This juxtaposition is particularly striking and effective in a print that features a warriorpriest (composed of photographic elements) standing face-to-face with a hand-drawn Dacian flag. The flag is a dragon-wolf hybrid, or a “wagon” as I like to call it. (Note: nobody else likes to call it that.) The flag’s tongue extends menacingly outward. Because of the preponderance of darkness in each of these prints, and because of the often strange juxtaposition of elements, they often have a rather dream-like feel. One particularly amusing dream of Gorea’s that doesn’t have a presence in this particular show but is nonetheless outlined in his statement, runs as follows: “I dreamt that while all my ‘warrior priests’ were sleeping, I stole a saint. I took him home . . . I took out the saint, and undressed him. But his body was dry and black. He had died a long time ago. I tried to move him in order to place him in the TV set, so that he can be the news announcer. But he shattered into pieces.” Dacian Flags runs until Sept. 30 in the Community Art Gallery at Urban Shaman, 290 McDermot Ave..


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