Lawren S. Harris (1885 - 1970), Mt. Lefroy, 1930, oil on canvas, 133.5 x 153.5 cm, Purchase 1975, 1975.7. Courtesy of the McMichael Canadian Art Collection.Courtesy of the McMichael Canadian Art Collection.
This one may have escaped you: Tuesday was Group of Seven Day in Ontario.
You are not alone if you let the occasion pass unobserved. It’s a low-key event, right up there with Ontario Day (June 1) and Nikola Tesla Day (July 10).
The Art Gallery of Ontario, normally closed on Mondays, kept its doors open for the inaugural Group of Seven Day in 2025, but this year, on a Tuesday, it was just offering pop-up art chats for the second annual event. Similarly, the McMichael Canadian Art Collection in Kleinburg, Ont., the closest thing Canada has to a Group of Seven shrine, offered two extra tours of its current exhibition, Old Growth: Masterworks by the Group of Seven and their Contemporaries.
Of course, both institutions house numerous works by the Group, the artists who introduced modernism to the depiction of the northern landscape 100 years ago, so you can go and visit at your leisure – although be aware that the McMichael will soon close its doors completely for a major renovation, expected to begin in late summer.
The Ontario public seems to maintain a strong affection for those scenes of trees, rocks and lakes perceived as quintessentially Canadian. Art curators, however, aren’t so sure we should mindlessly celebrate artists who seldom acknowledged Indigenous presence on the land they painted. In our elbows-up era, cultural nationalism, sometimes dismissed as a simplistic demand for media devoted to beavers and canoes, is in flux: One moment we are embracing Heated Rivalry and a national soccer team; the next, Prime Minister Mark Carney is telling the CRTC to scale back its plans to make foreign streaming services pay into Canadian content funds. A certain ambivalence about the Group of Seven, whose centenary in 2020 passed with little fanfare, summarizes an uneasy moment.
Hon. James Auld, artist A.Y. Jackson, Signe McMichael and Robert McMichael at the opening of McMichael Conservation Collection of Art, in Kleinburg, Ont., in 1966.Harold Robinson/The Globe and Mail
Would the trip to Dundas Street or Kleinburg to see those artists’ paintings actually make you feel more Canadian?
That is a perpetually smouldering issue. The link between national content in culture and national identity is a complicated thing. Sociologists and communications scholars have often been skeptical of the idea that content forges identity, pointing out that people may consume media critically, ironically or distractedly, while Canadian critics have also questioned the notion that the CBC can build national unity. Family, community and schooling have perhaps a greater role in establishing identity, and the direct link between media messages and behaviour has been much debated, particularly in the area of pornography. But these arguments go in cycles and, right now, as disinformation undermines democracy and social media ensnares youth, there is ample evidence and much public alarm over the impact of media.
That’s the downside of content. Less attention is paid to the positive aspects, such as its ability to build community. A recent study, for example, found a link between watching Canadian films and an increase in nationalism. The study is brought to you by Reel Canada, the non-profit that organizes National Canadian Film Day, and it polled both its audience and those of some partner organizations. Queried about the experience of viewing a Canadian film, 62 per cent of these already-engaged audience members said it made them feel more connected to Canada. Reel Canada does a lot of outreach to recent immigrant groups and the very small number of newcomers represented in the survey reported feeling more connected to Canada at a similar rate. The survey argues the audience is there for Canadian film; the problem is access, not appetite.
In the years after the First World War and the crucible of Vimy Ridge, the Group of Seven, several of whose members were recent English immigrants, allowed their art to be marketed as a nation-building project, new art for a new land. Half a century later, the enthusiasms of 1967 gave rise to the TV, radio and publishing regulations of the 1970s and 80s, Canadian media for a Canadian land. In this century, cultural nationalism has waned and the federal government has been dangerously slow to update the regulations to reflect the streaming era, not passing the Online Streaming Act until 2023. That leaves trade negotiators discussing a fresh irritant rather than an established practice. As Canada seeks to redefine itself in Carney’s new reality, it clearly needs something more vigorous than a wavering attachment to the Group of Seven to battle the U.S. tech giants.