A celebration of art as a living conversation that invites viewers to join USask students as co-creators. 

I arrived early and found curators adding descriptions to the walls and adjusting the placement of the art. It felt as if I were disturbing a sacred and private process. Waiting outside the gallery, I perched on a chair, uneasy, as if anticipating my name being called in a doctor’s office.

When I finally stepped inside, the bright lights reflecting off the stark white walls shocked my senses. As more people filled the space, the furniture surrounding a large bowl of colourful markers transformed into a lively communal hub. What happened next left me stunned: the student artists began drawing on the pristine walls.

One artist carefully crafted a detailed scene within a square foot of wall space, while the student beside them slashed bold, frenetic strokes like an expressionist. Onlookers soon joined in. I felt a knee-jerk reaction of embarrassment, like a vase had been knocked to the floor—gallery etiquette shattered with it.

As I made laps around the gallery, the walls grew richer and more alive. I noticed a traced hand here, and a bold signature there. Carved into a large section of the wall was the outline of a body in red marker. Someone drew a sun; later, another added a house with a tree, a flower, and a stick figure beneath it. Works gained new meanings through their surroundings. Amateur doodles blended with works worthy of a frame.

This exhibition, titled (Re)Connecting, was unlike any I had attended before. The implicit rules of the gallery, ingrained in me for years, had been utterly discarded. The student artists acknowledged these rules and seemed to revel in breaking them.

As I sat watching the walls fill with unique designs, I overheard a conversation between a student and a professor about the gallery statement written in marker on the wall. Its opening sentence read: “As we grow older and modern everyday public spaces increasingly resemble the traditional White Cube of a gallery, our classrooms and offices have often become deprived of warmth and coziness.”

The student remarked on their dislike of the word “older,” and the professor agreed, remarking that we do not “grow older, but simply grow.” Without hesitation, the student picked up a red marker and crossed it out. The professor followed suit, covering the word with strips of painter’s tape. It was a striking moment, one that embodied the exhibition’s central theme: a reclamation of spaces, an invitation to reject the rigidity of modern life, and a call to reconnect with creativity and wonder.

One of the most striking works on display was Composition, 1970, an abstract expressionist painting by Saskatchewan native Mina Forsyth. In the center of the piece, the word “fuck” is written in pencil. As curator and artist Mileva Elias explains in the exhibit label, this vandalism was discovered in 1994, after the painting was relocated to the Health Sciences wing.

Elias suggests that the graffiti reflects Forsyth’s bold mark-making style and her exploration of emotional responses through colour and composition. The incident raises questions about the relationship and dialogue between art and its audience. Forsyth may not have intended for her work to be altered, but removing the graffiti could risk damaging the painting. Elias acknowledges that every art display carries the risk of damage. Yet, she poses a provocative question: “If there is no viewer to see it, can an artwork fulfill its purpose?” Much like Forsyth’s painting, we take risks through expression and connection. But the alternative—shielding ourselves from pain—is unthinkable. ‘Fuck’ is more than just an act of vandalism; it’s a raw, honest mark that reflects our shared suffering.

(Re)Connecting made me question the very function of art. As children, we are all artists. We create without hesitation, colouring the sky green and the ocean purple. Why not? As adults, we often lose that connection. Art becomes bound by rules, standards, and conventions—as the world does—distancing us from the act of creation. This does not mean our inner artist is lost, and these USask artists urge us to reconnect with that perspective of discovery.

Art is not reserved for the few; it belongs to all of us. From prehistoric handprints on cave walls to the bold strokes and doodles filling the gallery walls, art has always been a way to express what it means to be human. Through the act of breaking rules, this exhibition offered rediscovery, expression, and the simple act of being human together.

At its best, art helps us feel less alone, spreading messages that matter. At its core, it is an expression of feeling—a reminder that we are still here, connected to ourselves and one another.

If that’s not what art is about, I’m not sure what is. Keep an eye on https://kagcag.usask.ca/ for all ongoing and upcoming USask art gallery events and exhibitions.