Victor Cicansky (1935-2025): Some Personal Memories

Compiled by Amy Gogarty

The ceramics community across Canada is mourning the death of Vic Cicansky, who died on March 3 at the age of 90. Born in Regina to Romanian parents, Cicansky spent his formative years learning to garden. His early love of gardening inspired his colourful ceramic sculptures of vegetables and fruit for which he is best known.

All you need is love, by Vic Cicansky. From Sask Artists profile of Vic here.

While starting a career in grade school teaching, Cicansky began to study ceramics at the Regina College School of Art under Beth Hone and Jack Sures. He attended a ceramic residency at Haystack Mountain School of Crafts in Maine, and, later, the University of California, Davis, where he earned his MFA. Returning to Canada, he taught at the Banff School of Fine Arts, the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design, and at the University if Regina.

His subject matter—fruit, vegetables, canned preserves, and portraits--revealed a playful sense of humour, which endeared him to many. However, beyond the humour, his work exhibited outstanding craftsmanship and purpose, for which he was honoured with the Saskatchewan Order of Merit in 1997, the Order of Canada in 2009, and the Lieutenant-Governor’s Award for Lifetime Achievement in the Arts in 2012. In addition to his smaller ceramic works, he created full-scale bronze furniture and architectural constructions.

A founder of the Regina Clay Movement, he was influenced by the California Funk Movement, which he encountered during graduate studies in the US. Throughout his lifetime, his work received significant critical attention. Calgary critic Nancy Tousley wrote that his work was about place, although filtered through a sort of “benevolent but satirical perspective.” Regina curator Timothy Long describe his fusion of references to art with childhood memories as “a riotous marriage of high and low culture,” characteristic of prairie humour. His work can be found in numerous private and public collections including those of the National Gallery of Canada, the Gardiner Museum, The Art Gallery of Burlington, and the National Museum of Modern Art in Kyoto, Japan.

He inspired many with his generous spirit and commitment to his art. Many who encountered him have wonderful memories, a few of which are included here.

Jeannie Mah, an artist who lives in Regina, remembers Vic from his earliest career as a school teacher:

Wonderful Vic Cicansky, in his big thrift-store bison coat, was a memorably eccentric teacher at my high school. During my second year in university, I was lucky to have Vic as my art education prof, because he believed in me as an artist, even before I realized my own direction. Without the encouragement of Vic Cicansky (and the late great Jack Sures) at the University of Regina in the 1970s, I would never have become a potter. When I was in art school in Vancouver, Vic came to do a workshop and stayed with us on Alma St. Dinners with Vic were always fun and delicious, with wild stories! The last time he came for dinner (sigh!), he was laden with gifts: Up from Garlic Flats (2019), red ceramic lips for our wall, and the biggest armful of rhubarb ever! Stories, ceramics and home-grown food! Vic believed that gardening is a revolution that begins with a pitch-fork!

Vancouver artist, educator, and NWCF Board member Mary Daniel also encountered Vic at the beginning of their careers, when both were students. She writes:

I recall Vic from 1967 when we were both learning to throw on the wheel from Jack Sures. Vic used the electric, but I liked the kick wheel. I was always covered in clay and water but I didn't mind. Vic was not a natural on the wheel, and the clay seemed to move him around. He began to add items to his forms and shape them differently--I remember broccoli being made first, and he went from there. How fortunate I was to be there with him, Sures, Fafard, Gilhooly, Levine et al!

Curator, artist, and educator Julia Kreuger has an early, redolent memory, although, by this time, Vic had achieved a measure of success:

One of my earliest memories of art involves a wonderous gallon of pickled eggs crowned with a most precious halo of gold. I’m not sure my young self, on the hunt for Nancy Drews, understood exactly what it was. The ceramic icon was nestled impossibly high up between thick historic or literary tomes in my favourite used-book shop. Today, I see that ceramic preserve with a sprinkling of real peppercorns (and Vic was peppery in the best ways possible) as the first time Vic and I met, totally at home in that sea of learning and delicious used-book smell of knowledge and possibility. When I think of Vic, even to this day, I’m taken back to that bulbous surreal sculpture with smell, longing, curiosity, wonder, laughter, learning, and the love of stories forming Vic’s fertile memory garden in my mind. But, unlike the out-of-reach gallon of pickled eggs, Vic was an approachable, generous man full of energy, knowledge and subversive humour. Every time I had the honour to spend time with him, whether it was to talk ceramics, pickling or garlic, to stroll through his garden, or to enjoy a good bowl of soup, Vic had a way of making me laugh, nurturing my senses, curiosity and wonder through his brilliant story telling, history lessons and gardening. I’m so honoured to have had the opportunity to learn from him, laugh with him and to call him a friend. Holy Moly Vic—what a life well lived, and long live the dandelion!

Ying-Yueh Chuang, an artist, educator, and NWCF Board member, encountered Vic’s work first in Burlington, ON, and later, in Regina, where she had the opportunity to meet him. She recalls:

I have admired Vic’s work since I began working as a studio technician in the ceramic studio at the Burlington Art Gallery (formerly the Burlington Art Centre) in the summer of 2004. Every day on my way to the studio, I would pass by his large Pantry and Jars installation [Spring Pantry, 1985] in the corridor’s permanent collection display case - a vibrant collection of pickled fruits-and-vegetables-sculpted jars in ceramic. The piece became part of my daily life. I loved seeing it, not only because it was so colourful and, playful, but also because it reminded me of home, family, and the simple joys of sharing food together. Later, when I had the opportunity to teach at the University of Regina from 2009 to 2010, I was able to see even more of Vic’s work in person. I remember visiting the Sturdy-Stone Centre in Saskatoon and being deeply impressed by his wall installation The Old Working Class and The New Working Class (1978). His work is full of life and social commentary--a true celebration of the working-class spirit and prairie culture. Despite his reputation as a major figure in Canadian ceramics, Vic was so humble, kind, and generous. I only had the chance to meet him a couple of times while living on the prairies, but those encounters left a lasting impression. I will never forget how he graciously invited my students and me to visit his home studio, sharing his time, his stories, and his works-in-progress over tea. He was so warm and welcoming, making us feel at home. To my great surprise, as we were leaving his studio, Vic gifted me a small red ceramic kiss mouth, a delicate little sculpture he told me he only gave to women friends he liked. I was so touched by his kindness and felt truly honoured. All I could offer in return was a heartfelt hug--a sweet moment I will always cherish. Vic’s generosity of spirit, his passion for ceramics, and his dedication to art and community will be deeply missed. His work will continue to inspire generations to come.

It is apparent from these accounts—and many others—that Victor Cicansky played a significant role in shaping ceramic culture in Canada through his vibrant and playful work, but, more importantly, through his mentorship of young artists and his personal qualities as a human being. He was kind, generous, thoughtful, and engaged. As Ying-Yueh Chuang writes, “Rest in peace, Vic.” He will be missed.