Over the past few years, artmaking became an extension of parenting for Dominique Rey. She created matching costumes for her and her children, Madeleine and Auguste Coar, and would set up a camera for a period of what she called ‘intentional play.’ In doing so, Rey captured images honouring the relationship between mother and child.

I first met Rey at her studio in the Point Douglas neighbourhood of Winnipeg, where she invited me over for tea after I reached out about this article. After months of researching her work, I was running late and worried I was making a bad first impression. She didn’t mind though and spoke generously about her practice and the then upcoming solo exhibition at the Winnipeg Art Gallery, Motherground. She showed me the photos included in her exhibition as well as the gallery maquette with the exhibition layout, and there was also prototype of one of the sculptures in the corner of her studio. Rey had piles of art books on motherhood, on various photographic projects surrounding motherhood and on what it meant to be an artist and mother. One of the books was Home Truths: Photography and Motherhood, edited by Susan Bright, who Rey was excited to share had contributed an essay to Motherground’s catalogue. 

Rey has always been drawn to women who, as she has described: “live on the periphery of society.” She’s created work about private female rituals, and about the performance and perceptions of identity. In Motherground, her two children are credited as collaborating artists as together they explored motherhood and the playfulness of childhood. The exhibition is divided into three chapters, reminiscent of the three trimesters women experience on their journey to motherhood. 

As an artist, Rey was interested in her changing body during pregnancy but wasn’t sure if she wanted to use the subject for her artwork. During a trip to Belgium, she was playing with Madeleine in an angular tunnel. Lancelot Coar, her husband, co-parent and collaborator, was mesmerized by the composition of the scene and captured it on camera. When I spoke to Coar, he described the two of them as a ‘playful eruption of bodies.’ Seeing the photos afterwards and how her and her daughter’s bodies had morphed into one, Rey realized that their forms were similar to her work. She then wanted to further examine the relationship between a mother and child.

The exhibition begins with Chapter 1: In Case of Storms, a series of photographs taken with Madeleine while Rey was pregnant with Auguste. The two of them interact with one another in front of a black background, but Rey has become a ghostly figure with her body removed, and the space filled in with a photo of ice from the Red River in springtime. The missing figure highlights the importance of the parent child relationship, as well as the love and care encompassed between the figures. The images lead viewers to consider the permanence of this relationship, especially when the mother figure is replaced with melting ice, a formation soon to be gone. 

Looking at the images, I can’t help but think of my relationship with my own mother. My mother puts everyone before herself, especially her children. She was a stay-at-home mom during my childhood, making all our meals, walking us to school, and holding me when I cried. Even now as an adult, my mom still likes to remind me that if I ever need anything, she’ll always be there. She drove with me when I moved to Regina a few years ago and offered to drive with me again when I moved back a year later. She’s the most resilient person I know, and I wouldn’t be who I am today without her. 

The removal of Rey’s body reminded me of my dependence on my mother during childhood and left me considering what my life would have been like without her. While our relationship may not always be perfect, the idea of not having my mother is as disorientating as Rey’s images. 

There’s one photograph where Rey’s body hasn’t been replaced by ice. She’s lying on grass with one of her children on top of her. Upon further inspection, there’s a third body in the conglomeration. Segments of ice are placed over the image in a grid, further distorting the recognition of bodies. It’s difficult to tell where one body starts and another begins, reflecting the disorientation that can occur after childbirth. The work further highlights the care and dependence that occurs in the relationship between a mother and child.

While ice is used in the exhibition to symbolize a woman’s body during pregnancy and the requirement for women to be solid, supporting figures despite the bodily transition and emotional journey they’re experiencing, for Rey, the ice of the Red River also holds personal significance in her journey to motherhood. 

Like many women who long to become mothers, Rey struggled to conceive and was concerned that motherhood was not in her future. During the winter, she would take long walks on the river trail to console herself. Ice then became a recurring motif throughout the exhibition, beginning with collages in Chapter 1, through to Chapter 3, where a photograph of ice covers the entire back wall, becoming a gateway to the video work in the exhibition. 

In Chapter 2: Domestic Frieze, the photographs are collaged so that bodies are not identifiable as singular. Like the photographs of Rey and Madeleine in Belgium, her and her children’s forms become one. The collages come together to create a pediment, like the frieze on a temple that worships the relationship between mother and child. Initially, Rey did not take photographs inside the house, she wanted to take her relationship with her daughter outside of the home, outside of the familiar. Plans changed however, when the coronavirus broke out in 2020, and people were advised to stay in their homes; she then used the domestic space as the stage.

There are sculptures throughout the exhibition that were created from Rey’s photographs. She collaged the work until she found unique forms that she then brought to life in acrylic structures. While they all come from bodily forms, some are more apparent than others. Just one of the sculptures maintain images from the collage embossed on the form. The others are all black, reflecting the photographs that are hung on the wall around them, as well as the viewer looking at the piece. Viewers are then inserted into the work, seeing themselves within the collages and their bodily forms in the shape of the sculpture. This reflection further encourages viewers to consider their own relationship to motherhood, whether they’re mother’s themselves or through their relationship with their mother.

These sculptures are not the first time Rey has created work with the intention of the viewer’s reflection. Rey broke into the Canadian art landscape with Selling Venus, a solo exhibition at Plug In ICA that then travelled across the country. The exhibition showed photographs of women getting ready for work at a strip club, putting on makeup and doing their hair. There was also a video of this process. Through documenting the strip tease dancers as they got ready for work, Rey examined themes of transformation, masking, the act of femininity. These women had to make themselves desirable in order to make money, but they also had to be on guard and able to protect themselves. It’s this complex duality that Rey was able to capture. 

At one point during the video, the light changed in the room and viewers saw their own reflection on the wall among the other photographs. This unexpected change in lighting also changed the viewer from voyeur to subject. It further humanized these women by forcing the viewers to see themselves in the images, leading them to wonder what it would be like to have to simultaneously sell and protect themselves. 

In preparation for this work, Rey spent time in strip clubs in Japan and in South Carolina, learning about strip tease culture and befriending the women who worked in the clubs. To fully understand the job and the toll it can take on women, she even worked as a strip tease dancer herself for a couple weeks in Japan. Rey expressed that this preparation was necessary for the work to accurately portray the women and be trusted by them.

This amount of research is not unusual for Rey, immersing herself in a subject is how she creates her work. Niki Trosky, a friend of Rey and Coar’s, explained that Rey doesn’t create work with a clear view of the final product in mind. Trosky believes that for Rey, the art is the process and experience of making it. The artwork that viewers see in a gallery is only the tip of the iceberg. 

After Selling Venus, Rey began working on a project about a disappearing order of nuns in Winnipeg. She spent a considerable amount of time with the nuns, and later travelled to the order’s mother house in France, as well as sister houses in Brazil and Argentina. While this seemed to be a drastic shift from strip tease dancers, Rey was continuing to look at women who were considered outsiders. She was familiar with the Order because her Aunt Madeleine, who her daughter is named after, was a nun at the Order in Winnipeg. Madeleine encouraged Rey to become an artist, and always introduced her to others as her niece, the artist. The two were very close until her passing when Rey was a teenager. 

While working on the Sisters of the Cross, Rey considered the parallels of working as an artist and working in the church. She described the life of a nun as being driven by an “intense belief in something that anchors your whole life.” Just as faith was the driving force of her aunt’s life, Rey’s art practice has been the driving force of her life.

Rey completed her BFA from the School of Art at the University of Manitoba, where she now works as an Associate Professor. She went on to complete two MFA programs, one from Bard College, just north of New York City, and the other from the Transart Institute in Berlin. Rey also participated in two mentorship programs at Mentoring Artists for Women in the Arts, a Winnipeg organization she holds in the highest regard, and has since worked with as a mentor. As a student at the U of M, she was taught by Alison Norlen, who, when I asked if she remembered having Rey as a student, recalled: “Her work was refreshing, her skills tremendous and she was fearless in her approach.” While this is a statement about Rey as a student, it still holds true to her work today. 

Shortly after completing her BFA, Rey became one of the founding members of the Abzurbs, a neo-Dadaist performance collective. Along with Cliff Eyland and Tannis Kohut, they formed a group of artists, dancers, musicians and actors who believed in free play and unrepressed behaviour. They performed across the country in galleries, bars, and spontaneously in un-planned venues. They even performed once at a birthday party. 

It’s through this group that Rey met Coar. He was invited to an artists’ studio with Trosky while the Abzurbs were creating. When I spoke with Coar, he recalled how he was blown away by the “cacophony of performance and artmaking.” He described that people were playing guitar and singing as Rey was dressed as an older woman who was painting a large canvas and whipping a man dressed as Jesus. A year later he performed with them, designing a stage set and costumes for a five-hour performance at Winnipeg’s Edge Gallery. 

Making art was how Rey and Coar connected, and he has since collaborated with her on a number of projects, either through design support or documenting performances. Prior to Motherground, she was working on a series that explored a Germanic folktale of a forest dweller who would lure travellers to untimely ends. Rey morphed her own body into the uncanny figure of the Erlking, lurking in the frozen forest. She used spandex and cotton to deform her body into an unnatural creature juxtaposed in a natural setting, prodding at the subconscious fear of the other. 

Coar also worked as the exhibition designer for Motherground, leading Gallery Director Stephen Borys to refer to the exhibition as a family affair at the opening. Many speeches were given that night, including one from Madeleine expressing her pride in her mother. The evening was attended by many in the Franco-Manitoban community, along with many of Madeleine and Auguste’s friends. Rey later told me that her kids were the stars of the night. We met a second time after the exhibition opening at Le Croissant, a bakery in Saint Boniface with the best almond croissants. This time Rey was late. Auguste was sick and home from school; he joined our coffee date and patiently played on his mom’s phone as I prodded her with questions. 

During the artmaking process for Motherground, Rey wanted to ensure her children had a good experience that they would look back on fondly. She was aware of the power dynamics and didn’t want to exploit or misrepresent them. During this process, she continually asked herself what they’ll think of this project in five years, or what their perception of the work might be when they’re adults. She had initially planned to direct a photoshoot with her kids, but quickly realized that they were the directors. She would do the prep work, but while the photos were being taken, they were in charge. A few months after the photoshoots, Auguste asked when they were doing it again. 

Riva Symko, curator of Motherground, has worked with an artist involving her children once before, but said that it’s incredibly rare. Prior to the installation period, Madeleine and Auguste approved the photographs included in the exhibition, removing any photos of themselves they didn’t like.

In Chapter 3: Bildungsroman, photographs are displayed of Rey’s friends playing with their children. They were the first photographs taken for the project and the images captured resonate with Rey’s community. A photograph of Sarah Ciurysek, Rey’s friend and fellow professor at the School of Art, portrays her with her hands outstretched, moments before her daughter runs into them. Ciurysek’s figure has been removed from the image, just like Rey’s body in Chapter 1, but instead of ice, the form is filled with palm branches. As someone who’s practice evolves around the environment, Ciurysek expressed that she felt Rey had perfectly encapsulated her essence in the image. 

Trosky also participated in the project with her son. When I asked her about the experience, she said it was an honour to be part of the project, and reiterated how important it is for children to express their creativity through play. Trosky referred to Rey as both an artist and muse, explaining that Rey is an inspiration to many people in her community. This sentiment has been echoed by multiple people; when researching this article, I spoke to several of Rey’s friends, colleagues, and past students, all of whom were happy to share their admiration of Rey.  

Motherground culminates with the titular video that creates an uneasy feeling in the viewer. During the video, Rey, Madeleine, and Auguste play in matching costumes as well as with sewn fabrics that, at times, conceal their bodies into one form. There are scenes when Rey remains covered, while her children exit the fabric and emerge as their own autonomous forms. The video perfectly demonstrates the playful interactions that are captured throughout the exhibition. The three of them play in an open field in daylight, but as night falls, fog and pink lighting enter the scene. The previous feeling of safety is replaced with uncertainty, reflecting the comfort of a mother, as well as the trauma that can occur when relationships with mothers are fraught. The dividing ice on the back wall then becomes a protector against the unknown.

By creating artwork through lived experiences, Motherground continues Rey’s work in confronting bodily transformation and women on the periphery of society. The playful movement captured in Belgium is carried throughout the exhibition, it embodies every piece through Rey’s interactions with her children. The same adherence to movement and playfulness are seen throughout Rey’s practice, through her work with the Abzurbs and her creation of Erlking. Rey anchored her life around art and by extending her practice to include her family, she created a playful collaboration that highlights the importance of motherhood and of childhood creativity.