Omar Gandhi at the Beaverbrook Art Gallery
Gallery curator John Leroux has created a captivating exhibit of the work of architect Omar Gandhi. Leroux arranged to have a talk by Gandhi, and he offered to take me. He wrestled me into his truck, at the gallery settled me into a wheelchair, and then swept me to the exhibit. He pointed to one of the photographs on the wall. “I wanted to be sure you saw this. Look! The same facade as your house!” He then wheeled me on to the lecture room so that he could host his friend Gandhi.
In his introduction Leroux said that Gandhi is, at the tender age of 44 and his studio only 14 years old, one of the premier architects in Canada, recipient of many honours and important commissions. But Gandhi is the most self-effacing speaker you will ever encounter. He began by telling us about his journey from being out of a job to being asked to design a friend’s humble cottage on the Nova Scotia coast. This design led to being asked to do more designs. His descriptions of how he went about it, examining the site, pleasing the owner, and engaging the young builders, were mesmerizing. As he talked, I could participate in the excitement he felt, being on a journey, able to experiment, study, free to create these homes.
He showed us one ocean site with a distinctive grassy bowl-shaped indentation in the rocks that had become the children’s playground. He designed a house in a semi-circle which would, “like a mother, wrap its arms around the bowl.”
For those first houses he enlisted builders who were willing to learn how to build in a new way. Gandhi knew, however, that he was using familiar forms of old Nova Scotia architecture which the builders could understand — gables, hip roof, the gambrel roof of barns. He demonstrated how he modified these roof forms.
He expressed his gratitude that he was lucky in engaging builders who had great pride in their craft, so that not only were the houses thoughtfully situated on their site, carefully designed to meet the needs of the client — including their budget — they were made beautifully. The materials were humble, but their use was lovely: veneer plywood, white-washed spruce from New Brunswick woods, concrete floors, cedar shingles.
As his reputation grew, the budgets became larger, the houses more luxurious, and yet they still had Gandhi’s stamp. One photo showed a most spectacular massive staircase, almost a room of its own. But its simple lines prevailed.
Leroux, an architect himself, had designed an exhibit that was a work of art in itself, taking up one whole gallery room. Models built by Gandhi of the prospective building — the size of model train buildings — were laid out on two semi-circle counters. On the walls were large photos of the buildings as they finally became. The centerpiece of the exhibit was a gallery-built gazebo enclosing the remarkably complex model of the as-yet-unbuilt Art Gallery of Nova Scotia.
Gandhi’s book, Omar Gandhi: Adaptation, is at the gallery gift shop. Even if you aren’t interested in architecture, you would find this an uplifting book. Gandhi’s own essay is a “how to be an artist” treatise. Modestly, but not with false modesty, he tells the story of his life, of his process, dwelling more on the excitement of the humble beginnings than on the larger accomplishments. His honesty, philosophy, the role of his extended family, his stick-to-it-ness, his process as an artist comes through loud and clear. I was charmed by the essay written by Leroux and by every photograph, every drawing, even by the cover — one of the best covers I’ve ever seen.
Years ago when Leroux first visited me, he stood in my doorway and told me, “You have a Mid-Century Modern house!” He pointed out the markers: the unpainted mahogany trim, the centre beam of the cathedral ceiling, and the front with its large windows. At the lecture Gandhi expressed gratitude for the craftsmanship of the Spruce builders he works with. I am grateful for the craftsmanship of the Hill Brothers and their crew. To save money we had decided not to have a fireplace. To fill in the gap, without our knowing, the Hill Brothers built a beautiful floor to ceiling bookcase.
The talk, exhibit and book did get me thinking about my own house. I have always regretted that our large front windows — the façade Leroux pointed out to me — didn’t face south, as one basic architectural principal states. But stimulated by the Gandhi/Leroux experience, I had a revelation. I live in a northern country, where the northern view should be primary. I look north over the house across the street to the black trunks of the spruce and then west to the setting sun where the wind comes barreling down our street, dumping loads of snow. I remembered that on the first night we were in the house, September 1, 1966, after we had assembled the beds and put the little ones to sleep, I went out onto the front steps, and there before me were northern lights, the Aurora Borealis. A good omen.
Nancy Bauer
