CANADA COURIER: The eyes of the community (02/25/96)

CANADA COURIER

by Christopher Guly

The eyes of the community

Andrew Sikorsky is one of those rare people who has done what Confucius once suggested: "Choose a job you love, and you will never have to work a day in your life."

Aside from a few odd jobs over the past 13 years, the 33-year-old Winnipeg photographer never really had to contend with the travails of travail. To be sure, his camera did the toil - thanks, of course, to the guidance of Mr. Sikorsky's inquisitive eye. While that eye has captured umpteen personalities on film, it also reveals the holder's own persona.

Quiet and almost embarrassingly shy at times, the 6-foot-4-inch visual artist uses the camera to communicate with his world. As a writer pens thoughts and a singer conveys imagery through vocals, Mr. Sikorsky describes his world for us through a lens.

Ever since he acquired his first 35mm Minolta as a teen, he was destined to speak through film. With a studio situated in the warehouse district of downtown Winnipeg and a roving spirit akin to that of a foreign correspondent, Mr. Sikorsky has in many ways spoken on behalf of and for the local Ukrainian Canadian community.

President Leonid Kuchma's 1994 visit to the city, episcopal ordinations, multicultural celebrations, events sponsored by the Ukrainian Canadian Congress and other local groups have all been immortalized by Mr. Sikorsky on a filmic record.

"What I enjoy most about taking pictures is the interaction with people," he says.

Certainly, using that camera as an extension of himself, Mr. Sikorsky enjoys a level of social introduction envied by most. In many ways, the process that follows is as objective - if at all possible - as art can get.

Unlike the painter, the colors, minus any available technical alternations, are already chosen; unlike the writer, there are no words to select from. Still, the photographer has choices and selections to make: the type of lighting, setting, angle and subject. With the latter, it's portraiture, in Mr. Sikorsky's case.

He claims Richard Avedon as a significant influence on his work. There are also unmistakable nuances of Ottawa's Yousuf Karsh. However, considering the demand on his time and for his work, Mr. Sikorsky has created his own niche, which has led to a certain Sikorskyesque emphasis on colors and form.

I have known him for more than 25 years and consider him my oldest friend. That longevity has allowed me to witness not only the genesis of his artistry but its evolution.

For me, Mr. Sikorsky has served not only as a window to my past but as the eyes to my heritage. Few can capture whirling Ukrainian dancers on film as he can. Few can use the camera to complement the approach William Kurelek might have used with a paintbrush to convey the emotion of a "baba" on Selkirk Avenue in Winnipeg's North End. Few can transpose the serenity of a Ukrainian Catholic church service through a lens. Andrew Sikorsky can.

A product of Garden City in the northern fringes of Winnipeg, he was raised with two sisters and one brother in a traditional Ukrainian family. Each of his siblings have, in their own right, preserved their heritage. Christina, a skilled potter; Donna, a talented dancer; Christopher, a gifted linguist - all introducing elements of Ukrainian culture in their art, just like their older brother Andrew. Since 1994, Mr. Sikorsky has shared his life with wife, Joan - yet another artist in the world of interior design.

Certainly, parents Emil and Joan must be proud.

So should the Ukrainian Canadian community at large. Amid the cacophony for multicultural preservation, Mr. Sikorsky is one of its most ardent, albeit silent, supporters. He is, as Christopher Isherwood once suggested, that "camera with its shutter open, quite passive, recording."

Andrew Sikorsky has employed his camera to become the eyes of our community.

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