How the strange and unfamiliar helped Dorit Cypis find her niche as an artist

FAKE IT TILL YOU MAKE IT

While internationally renowned since her time in Halifax, Cypis remembers the strange and beautiful experience as a NSCAD student in the 70s. She speaks to alumni officer, Trina Annand about her time at the university with two unusual stories.  

Dorit Cypis: So, you want to hear a story?

Trina Annand: Yes! I hear you have interesting tales to tell.  

DC: All right, I’ll start with this one.

My first intended degree was a BA in sociology and psychology. I went to Concordia University, which at that time in 1968-69 was Sir George Williams University. I went there, because I wanted to study difference. Why is each person in a different body? And why is each body different from every other body? And I didn’t know I had no language for it, so I was told to study sociology and psychology.

After two years, I recognized that I was being trained to study others, when I didn’t know who the hell I was. It felt pretentious, so I went to my professor, and I asked him: how can I study others when I don’t know who I am? And he just looked at me and said, ‘Huh?’

This was late 60s and there was really no language for subjectivity, objectivity, the place of the viewer, how we define what we see, and so on. There was none of that conversation yet. I didn’t know any of it. So I said, well, if he can’t answer it, I can’t be here, and I dropped out.

My mother, an Eastern-European Polish woman who didn’t know what to do with me at home said, “Why don’t you go study art?” I had never studied art. I never drew. I was a daydreamer. I was asking 10,000 questions a day. I was very curious, but internally focused, with a vivid imagination. She said, “Maybe you’re an artist because you’re asking questions no one can answer, so why don’t you go to this Community Arts Centre in Montreal.”

So, I did and they put me in a drawing class. It fascinated me because they guided me to ask very different questions about seeing than anyone had ever asked me before. I just said, I don’t know where this goes, but I need to go to art school.

I had no portfolio, so I faked it. My father, this Eastern-European Polish guy, loved to take snapshots with his Kodak camera. We are in an upper duplex, so I told him to stand in the upstairs living room. It was the middle of winter and there were mountains of snow on the street. I told my dad I’m going to climb to the top of that mountain of snow wearing my go-go boots, my yellow leotards and a crocheted shawl I made. Take my photo.

I was making fun of hippies and was just exaggerating everything. That’s what I sent into NSCAD. I didn’t know that it was conceptual art. I didn’t know anything. I got a letter back from Gary Kennedy saying, we don’t understand what you sent, but it’s fascinating. Can you come for an interview?

I flew out and showed up at Gary’s office. He handed me a piece of paper, and said, “Answer one of these 10 questions and bring your answer back to me tomorrow morning at 9 a.m. I’ll tell you if you’re in or not.”

This is how you got into art school in those days, or at least into NSCAD. No portfolio reviews, just you cut it or you don’t cut it.

So, I took the piece of paper, I read the 10 questions that I’m supposed to respond to. They make no sense to me because they’re all abstract. I had never read questions or statements like that.

I remember question six; it said, “draw crumpled paper.” I was like how hard can that be? I’ll draw crumpled paper. I went to the art store at the school, bought a big pad of paper and some pencils. I went to the grocery store, bought my dinner, brought it home to my motel room and sat at the little desk. I crumpled a piece of paper, put it down next to me and then started looking and drawing.

By 3 a.m., I had destroyed every piece of paper I tried to draw crumpled paper on. This is crazy. How do you draw crumpled paper? This doesn’t look like crumpled paper. Then it occurred to me: this is really dumb. I don’t want to go to art school to learn how to draw crumpled paper. This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of! Who cares about this dumb art school? I’m going to bed. I’m going to tell him tomorrow, forget it, I’m done with you, I’m going home.

In order to go to bed, I had to walk around the table to this little pathway. As I walked around the table to the open pathway, I realized what I had done. Every time I wanted to destroy a drawing that I made, I ripped it out, crumpled it up, and threw it across the room. I looked down and saw a mountain of crumpled paper.

I said, I’m going to show that guy. I’m going to play a trick. I got the brown paper bag from dinner, filled it to the brim with this crumpled paper, closed it up, went to bed for three hours. Then got up and got to NSCAD at 9 a.m.

Gary was sitting behind his desk. He looks up at me. I say, “Number six.” I put my brown paper bag on his desk, he stands up, opens it up. He looks in silence. And then he looks at me, he says, “Brilliant, you’re in.”

And I’m thinking, what an idiot. This was a joke. What could he possibly see in this? He’s seeing conceptual art; I’m seeing a dumb joke. Anyway, that’s how I got into NSCAD.