Veterans Art Exhibition at Fanshawe College – CTV News London Achi-News

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It was little more than events that led Bill Staubi to buy his first work of art.

He was a 24-year-old BA student living in Saint John, NB in ​​1978, and a handful of artists were hanging a group show in the large living room of the home where he lived. They needed help with the grunt work, and Staubi, with nothing better to do, volunteered.

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By the end of the day, he was so enamored with the artwork that he bought five pieces – one from each artist.

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However, he had no money at all, so he went to the bank that held his student loan, and negotiated another loan, for $360, to buy the pieces. “The manager was amazed that I wasn’t buying a car or a stereo or going on crazy vacations, so he took a chance,” Staubi recalls. “I should have realized then that it was a glimpse into my future.”

Today, the walls of Staubi’s two-bedroom downtown apartment are almost completely covered in art—hundreds of pieces he’s collected over the past 46 years, representing nearly every possible medium. Most are figurative or representational; his jam is not abstract art. Queer and religious themes are evident, but it would be unfair to buttonhole his collection by either of those descriptors – there’s simply so much of everything.

And as a fully stocked museum, the pieces on the walls, shelves, windows and floors are just the tip of the iceberg; his collections numbered between 1,200 and 1,300 pieces, most by Ottawa artists and most purchased when those artists’ careers were about to begin and they most needed support.

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When looking at art that fascinates him, Staubi feels it wildly, in his chest and head. “Sometimes it’s almost a desire to grab that spot,” he explains, “or I’m overwhelmed by it if I walk away.” The feeling, he adds, may soften over the years, but it never goes away.

So one can only imagine what he feels now, as he looks at these precious pieces for the last time.

Last fall, Staubi, 69, was diagnosed with Stage-4 liver cancer. His prognosis suggests that he will reach 70, but no further. Rather than saddle his son with the burdensome task of dispersing the collection, Staubi does it himself while he is still healthy enough.

Some of the pieces will find their way back to the artists who made them. Some will go out the door as gifts for friends. Most will be placed elsewhere, finding new homes in galleries where members of the public could feel the same kind of palpitations that Staubi felt when he first saw them. About 125 go to the City of Ottawa collection, and another 50 to the Ottawa Art Gallery. Twenty one will go to the Thunder Bay Art Gallery. One piece, depicting the 1971 riot at Kingston Penitentiary, will probably end up in the Penitentiary Museum in that city.

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“I always knew that when my time came, the collection would have to go,” he said. “I’m glad that so much of it will go to places that can store and look after it properly, and where people will see it.”

Other works are donated to organizations—the Ottawa Arts Council and the Mississippi Textile Museum, to name a couple—for fundraising purposes.

I first met Bill two years ago while interviewing members of Ottawa’s queer community for a Pride Month feature for the paper. Unaffiliated, I was working on a photography exhibition of my own at the time – my first – and after learning of his connection to the art world, I began to pick his brain for advice. Bill himself is an artist who serves on art juries and in an advisory role, and his support for local artists goes far beyond simply buying their work.

As someone who had difficulty considering myself an artist, I cannot overstate how Bill’s encouragement relaxed me. I sent him an invitation to my show, although I didn’t expect to actually see him. But not only did he come to the opening, he was the first to buy a piece. So I fully understand how, if I were a young artist hoping to walk that path in any kind of professional way, his support, either through an early sale or a bit of sage advice, could make all the difference.

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“Artists face a lot of rejection, a lot of criticism,” he said. “One of the great rewards for me is seeing the moment when an artist says, ‘Oh my god, maybe this is for me, maybe this is the right choice.'”

Indeed, Ottawa’s arts scene has been extremely fortunate to count Staubi among its advocates, and it will have a big hole when he is no longer with us. But if one of his main legacies has been the support of local artists, hopefully another will be to encourage others to do the same.

“I’ve always wanted to live in a place that had a vibrant arts community,” he says, “that had things to go to and things to see that would make me question what I was thinking, and here is one way of doing that.

“You have to make the world you want,” he adds. “I can’t cure hunger. I cannot stop what is happening in the Middle East. I can’t solve inflation. But I can make someone feel good about the career choice they made, and by sharing what I’ve done with this collection I might inspire others. Maybe not on this scale; I accept that I am eccentric. But if you want to live in a place where local artists can work and thrive, then support them.”

PHOTO GALLERY FROM THE BILL STAUBI ART COLLECTION

Born in Fort William, Ont., a city that no longer appears on maps, Bruce Deachman has called Ottawa home for most of his life. As a columnist and reporter with the Citizen, he works to keep Ottawa on the map. You can reach him at [email protected].

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