The hills are alive

Story, photo, Sarah Ryeland

It’s not every day you come across a field full of sculptures – especially giant, concrete screaming heads.

Monstrous heads, hands, trees and horses pepper the landscape and tower over those brave enough to step foot onto this Ryerson Township property. Some say the creations are rising up out of the earth, while others think they’re being dragged down into it. But just like all great art, interpretation is all in the eye of the beholder.

“The real question is,” says Peter Camani, the artist behind this unique display, “is the artist creating what he imagines to be there, or is he just showing other people what he actually sees?”

It’s that kind of philosophical question that drives the former Almaguin Highlands Secondary School art teacher to create his unusual masterpieces. Themes of man destroying nature, immortality and Druidic symbolism abound as Camani works to integrate an artistic vision with his beautiful northern surroundings.

Camani wasn’t always interested in art. Moving to Canada from England in 1954, Camani and his parents settled in Hamilton where the young man developed a love of science. He pursued that line of study at the University of Waterloo until, in his third year of study, he switched gears.

“I had never taken art in high school,” says Camani. “So when I was at university I was in sciences. I then had a rough idea of what I wanted to do, and so in my third year I went over to art, got my B.A. requirements and then went to Althouse.”

After graduating from Althouse (a teaching college in London, Ont.), Camani was offered a teaching position at the Almaguin high school.

“My first and only teaching job has been Almaguin,” he says. “I got the job mainly, I think, because in 1973, they couldn’t get teachers up here because it was so-called ‘remote’.”

During his long teaching career, Camani began to see his home as an extension of his artistic vision.

“I was employed as a teacher for 35 years,” he says. “During the summers instead of traveling around places I decided to fix up the house. Since I did teach art, my idea was to put the art on the fields and if people wanted to see it, they could.”

Working with the existing house and a theme of “hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil”, Camani began the transformation. First came the dragon that sits perched on the roof above the fireplace. Next came the tower.

“We have three or four feet of snow every year,” says the artist, “but I don’t like going out and making bonfires in the snow. So what I did was make a tower so I could have a fire up top.”

The tower sits close to the house and can be accessed by a steep set of stairs. At the top is Camani’s version of a primitive cave, with inside walls covered with paintings of screaming heads that dance in the glow of the fire’s flickering flames. The outside of the cave is a depiction of “hear no evil”, featuring a screaming head with two faces, windows for mouths and hands over its ears.

Next came the sculptures on the field. The first one went up in 1995 and, because of its meticulous construction, is still standing. According to Camani however, it’s not the construction of the pieces that’s unique; it’s the process.

“It’s not something that’s mysterious,” he says. “It just involves a lot of time and costs a fair bit of money. To get the crane that lifts them up costs $1,000 a day, so it’s an expense.”

Camani creates the sculptures by first selecting the location. He then brings out all the materials he needs to create the figure and the entire piece is created flat on the ground. When the sculpture is ready to be moved, a crane comes in and lifts the enormous piece of cement and places it in the spot Camani has chosen.

“All you’re doing is basically shaping a sidewalk,” he says. “Then you’re standing the sidewalk up so all the weight is evenly distributed, and that’s it.”

None of the sculptures are anchored in the ground. Camani likes to think of them as sailboats that float on the earth, weighed down by the cement platform that is a part of the actual figure. This allows the artwork to remain steady through every season and not get heaved up by the ground when it freezes and thaws.

Having perfected the method, Camani now works to fulfill his vision for the property. He sees it as a living organism, inviting curious strangers to come in and experience the artwork, rather than simply looking at it in a sterile environment.

“It’s kind of nice to actually be able to go in, around and through to see it from all different ways,” he says. “I like the idea of the sculptures breathing as the climate or the year changes, or as the sun rises. The sculptures change and everyone sees them differently.

“The idea of galleries never really appealed to me, where somebody says ‘well I don’t like this, or I don’t like that’. I don’t care what they like. So I put trees across the front. If they don’t want to see it they don’t even have to look that way, but if they want to come in, by all means they can actually look at and encounter the art.”

And come in they do.

Camani’s work on Midlothian Road has become a sort of legend in the area. People come from far and wide just to have the screaming head experience. The property has been featured in television shows and movies – one of which was seen in 26 countries. Festivals and weddings have been held in the unique setting, most notably the annual Harvest Festival.

Camani is generous with his land, allowing the music festival to have the run of the property for one weekend out of every year. His only request is that they keep it clean.

“The Harvest Festival is meticulous about where the garbage goes, the outhouses that are brought in, the program, the music, the noise; they know all of what’s going to be involved. Cleanup is very important and the land might be pricked a bit, but not abused.”

During the festival that hosts about 1,500 revelers each year, the sculptures and ponds are lit up and create a special atmosphere that can’t be found anywhere else. Tents and additional artwork are set up throughout the fields and even in the woods, with different genres of music attracting fans from across the country.

During the rest of the year, Camani has regular visitors like the local farmer who collects hay from the fields and a group of organic farmers who use his land to grow their produce. The artist does this on an exchange basis – the farmers sell their produce at a stall on his property, and Camani gets to eat from the garden to his heart’s content.

He accepts donations from anyone who enjoys his property, but never asks for monetary compensation.

“I suppose I’m the caretaker,” says Camani, “but the land lives by itself. I’m not waiting there for people to come in, because that’s not what I care to do. The land is actually attracting people and I’ve done things on the land. I just try and make sure it can carry on and I can carry on.”

And if you want to, you can carry on there as well.

Camani offers a unique and artistic way to spend eternity: having your ashes placed inside one of the sculptures.

“I find the whole thing kind of humorous,” says Camani. “I mean, I just don’t like the idea of being under the ground when you could be above the ground. So I just made a statement and I’ve had a lot of inquiries about it.”

Although no one has taken him up on the offer yet, the artist – who has already experimented with placing naturally deceased animals inside the concrete sculptures – would definitely go ahead with the plan.

Would he consider having his own remains placed inside a sculpture on his land?

“Sounds good to me,” he says, “but who’s going to make it? That’s the problem.”

Whether anyone decides to dwell inside a piece of artwork or not, one thing is for sure: the display will be standing for a long, long time, and that pleases Camani.

“It’s weird when you do all your work and then you sort of sell it or get rid of it and you never see it again,” he says. “Every morning I go outside and I can look out and see it. I think I make good choices. I sure wouldn’t have changed spots for where those things are placed.”

As for future plans, Camani wants to create a concrete army emerging from the forest bordering the far field of the property, to represent society’s fear of invasion. And if you think the sculptures are big now, just wait.

“The biggest one is 22 feet high and weighs about 30 tons,” says Camani, “but there’s no reason why they couldn’t be even bigger than that.”

There’s no doubt that Camani’s vision has reached epic proportions. So whether you perceive the land to be swallowing up the artwork, or the artwork emerging from the land, take a trip out to Midlothian Road. You might be scared, but you definitely won’t be disappointed.