Adorned with metal earrings, bracelets and rings, Glen LeMesurier sits on an iron bench he built in his Jardin du Crépuscule, or Twilight Sculpture Garden, just down the street from his workshop.
Repurposed parts, such as wheels and propellers, are shaped into new forms by LeMesurier to create the dozens of sculptures that populate the Mile End and other Montreal neighbourhoods.
“I just love to see form and steel and sculpture integrated into the neighbourhood,” said LeMesurier.
LeMesurier began working on the sculpture garden in 1999, when he says the lot was just a scrapyard. Over the years, he says he took inspiration from other sculpture gardens across the world, in particular the Socrates Sculpture Park in New York City.
Now his garden is filled with 80 sculptures surrounded by a field of white sweet clover — itself grown from seeds donated by a longtime fan grateful for his work.
The sculpture garden is an “essential” part of the Mile End, according to borough councillor Marie Sterlin. One time, she says, a resident floated the idea of adding a dog park where the garden is located, causing an “uproar” from the community. In another instance, she says a hotel development received criticism when nearby locals mistakenly confused the proposed site for the garden.
A field of white sweet clover surrounds dozens of iron sculptures in Le Jardin du Crépuscule, or Twilight Sculpture Garden. (Aloysius Wong/CBC)
“People love his art,” Sterlin said. “They understand his art — it resonates with them.”
Beyond his 80 sculptures in the Jardin du Crépuscule, LeMesurier also built and maintains dozens more in a trail that runs parallel to the CN Rail tracks behind his shop. He maintains both spaces, taking care to regularly clear weeds and prune trees around his art to ensure that it remains visible.
PHOTOS | LeMesurier’s sculptures in the Mile End:
People also appreciate how LeMesurier integrates his work into the surroundings.
“All the plants just grow around the statue — it makes it part of the landscape,” said film producer and cinematographer Enrico Bartolucci, who was walking on the bike trail on Tuesday.
“I like that they are industrial sculptures, because they are in conversation with the [environment],” said Amandine Gay, a French filmmaker and Bartolucci’s partner.
French filmmakers Amandine Gay, centre, and Enrico Bartolucci, right, speak with Montreal sculptor Glen LeMesurier, left, about public art on a trail in the Mile End. (Aloysius Wong/CBC)
Heavy costs
LeMesurier primarily does this all of his own accord, using revenue from selling metal works from his workshop to account for the time and resources he invests into the sculptures. Inside 135 Van Horne Ave., he makes everything from candle holders and metal trinkets to fences, doors and giant wood burning towers.
But recently, he says it’s been more difficult to make ends meet. The commercial building where his workshop has been for over 25 years was recently put up for sale, and his rent doubled from about $900 to $1,800.
Artistic metal creations for sale line LeMesurier’s shop at 135 Van Horne Ave. (Aloysius Wong/CBC)
What’s more, despite applying regularly for arts grants and federal and provincial funding, LeMesurier has only ever received one grant from the Conseil des arts et des lettres du Québec (CALQ).
“I don’t really consider myself a Canadian artist,” said LeMesurier. “I consider myself a Montreal artist, because Canada has never done anything for me artistically.”
In emailed statements, the Canada Council for the Arts said it couldn’t comment on particular applicants for privacy reasons. The Quebec arts body, CALQ, confirmed that LeMesurier received one grant, but could not state why his other applications for funding were unsuccessful.
The Council did, however, provide a report that showed that 3,261 out of 6,044 (or 54 per cent) applications from Quebec were successful in the 2021-22 year, with the total funds granted to projects in the province exceeding $140 million. CALQ, meanwhile, said that in 2014-15, the last time LeMesurier applied, a quarter of applications were successful, adding that sometimes the only reason an application is rejected is because of budgetary constraints.
LeMesurier stands outside his workshop where he welds his iron sculptures and other metal works. (Aloysius Wong/CBC)
“The only place I got funding from at all was in Montreal. Montreal’s always saved my ass,” he said, noting that borough and city councillors have helped him set up shows when he’s low on cash.
Still, LeMesurier says the system isn’t ideal. Each commission from the city or a borough gives him $1,500, regardless of the scale of the project. The costs of materials and moving the works are usually fronted by him as well.
Sterlin wants artists like LeMesurier to be protected, whether through measures like rent control, the support of organizations such as the Ateliers créatifs Montréal or more stable government support.
“Artists have to be financed, and for that they have to go through channels and it’s not their job,” said Sterlin. “It shouldn’t be their job. Their job is to create.”
LeMesurier considers what he does an artistic vocation. And when inspiration hits, he has to strike while the iron is hot. He gets so absorbed, he says, that he even forgets to eat when he’s in the middle of a project.
“It’s like a wave,” said LeMesurier. “When it possesses me, it takes me into its claws … you really don’t have a say in the game.”
But all this work comes at a cost. Now 62, LeMesurier says the physical toll of decades of welding and heavy lifting is beginning to catch up with him. Still, he intends to keep creating art for as long as he can.
“The first thing to go — and mine just popped — are your hips,” he said. “All sculptors that I’ve talked to are all in wheelchairs.”
“I feel like I’m in a 100-yard dash, because obviously I’m gonna croak soon.… If I’m lucky, I might have 10 summers here left.”
LeMesurier points at a row of trees he says he planted behind his shop beside CN Rail tracks about 15 years ago. (Aloysius Wong/CBC)
Concrete impacts
Though it began as a guerilla installation, LeMesurier’s sculpture garden is now officially recognized by the city of Montreal.
Inside his studio, a sign from the city describes him as a “prolific artist” whose work has been displayed in Europe and the United States, best known locally for the Jardin du Crépuscule, “a permanent attraction in the heart of the Mile End.”
“There’s always people in [the garden],” he said. “There’s lovers here at night. There’s tai chi here in the day.”
LeMesurier says people come up to thank him “all the time” for his work, sometimes donating cash to him directly when they see him working on his sculptures.
To pay for his increased rent and the maintenance of the statues, he started a GoFundMe page last year. To date, it has raised almost $4,000 out of a goal of $10,000 — money which LeMesurier says would allow him to purchase better materials and worry less about making each month’s rent.
LeMesurier shows a poster outside his studio, asking the public to support his work with a QR code that links to his GoFundMe page. (Aloysius Wong/CBC)
One donor, Karl Martel, describes spending many emotional moments in the sculpture garden — picnics, heartbreak, a late-night dance in the rain, memories with his two-year-old daughter.
“Thank you so much for sharing your heart with us and creating a space where we feel free, surrounded by beautiful iron totems,” wrote Martel in a message accompanying a $50 donation.
But the most touching message LeMesurier received was an anonymous letter a young woman. It was left under the bench in the sculpture garden.
“It was a letter of guilt and confession … because she said, ‘I was going to take my life in your garden.'”
“But then she said, ‘I started to look at the forms, and I started to look at all the work and the things that you made. And the beauty, the power and the beauty of everything overwhelmed me, and I changed my mind.'”
WATCH | How the public uses the Twilight Sculpture Garden:
This Montreal sculpture garden is now a hub for the neighbourhood
3 days ago
Duration 1:10
Mile-End artist Glen LeMesurier has worked on the garden since 1999, transforming it from a scrapyard to a field of white sweetclover with 80 metal totems.
Art for all
LeMesurier’s partner, Serena Thomson, a charcoal and pastel artist who works in the same studio as him, emphasizes the importance of public art, with no admission fees.
“Not everyone has access to art,” said Thomson. “But when it’s woven into the fabric of everyday life, when you can have a spontaneous encounter with art in your neighbourhood, it really enriches the lives of that neighbourhood.”
Asked what he would do if he got the financial support he’s asking for, LeMesurier brightened immediately.
“If my rent were paid for instance, I would be flying. I would start installing work illegally all over the city. That’s the first thing I would do,” he said with a mischievous grin.
“I would push every boundary. I want to see what I can get away with. My girlfriend said, ‘You are a real shit disturber, eh?’ and I go, ‘Not really. I just like to see public art.'”
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LONDON (AP) — With a few daubs of a paintbrush, the Brontë sisters have got their dots back.
More than eight decades after it was installed, a memorial to the three 19th-century sibling novelists in London’s Westminster Abbey was amended Thursday to restore the diaereses – the two dots over the e in their surname.
The dots — which indicate that the name is pronounced “brontay” rather than “bront” — were omitted when the stone tablet commemorating Charlotte, Emily and Anne was erected in the abbey’s Poets’ Corner in October 1939, just after the outbreak of World War II.
They were restored after Brontë historian Sharon Wright, editor of the Brontë Society Gazette, raised the issue with Dean of Westminster David Hoyle. The abbey asked its stonemason to tap in the dots and its conservator to paint them.
“There’s no paper record for anyone complaining about this or mentioning this, so I just wanted to put it right, really,” Wright said. “These three Yorkshire women deserve their place here, but they also deserve to have their name spelled correctly.”
It’s believed the writers’ Irish father Patrick changed the spelling of his surname from Brunty or Prunty when he went to university in England.
Raised on the wild Yorkshire moors, all three sisters died before they were 40, leaving enduring novels including Charlotte’s “Jane Eyre,” Emily’s “Wuthering Heights” and Anne’s “The Tenant of Wildfell Hall.”
Rebecca Yorke, director of the Brontë Society, welcomed the restoration.
“As the Brontës and their work are loved and respected all over the world, it’s entirely appropriate that their name is spelled correctly on their memorial,” she said.
