She’s baking bread.

She plays with Canada’s iconic artwork, takes comfortable settings and turns them into uncomfortable discussions and builds worlds that have dark, ominous edges. And she is mixing up a batch of bread.

“It’s a wonderful recipe,” says Diana Thorneycroft from her Winnipeg home.

Her business card could read: Iconoclast, artist, baker.

Thorneycroft is the creative spark behind Canada, Myth and History, an exhibit on display at the McMichael Gallery in Kleinburg, Ontario until November 29.

It’s an exploration of the Canadian identity, of cultural ideologies and of national motifs. Of how, or if, our Canadian-ness is tied to the landscape.

And her work is garnering attention across the globe — along with looks of confusion and the conflicted shaking of heads from some.

The exhibit hinges on Thorneycroft’s Group of Seven Awkward Moments photo series. Comprised of 21 pieces, the images seem vaguely, comfortably familiar — at first glance. In the background are reproductions of famous landscapes created by the Group of Seven and their contemporaries. But that’s likely where the warm-fuzzy-familiar feeling will end for viewers.

Playing out in front of these idyllic backdrops are scenes filled with violence and danger. Imbued with political, social and homoerotic themes, Thorneycroft’s dioramas are crafted with a heavy dose of dark humour.

Peopled with toy figurines, farm animals and play vehicles, at quick glance the scenes appear harmless, almost playful. But if you’ve seen any of Thorneycroft’s past work, you know to look deeper; to peer past the shiny-happy veneer.

In Group of Seven Awkward Moments – In Algonquin Park, kids play in the snow around a flagpole. On closer inspection some are bleeding, having lost their tongues to the age-old ritual of sticking them to said flagpole. Off skis a law enforcement chap, oblivious to the scene. But is he oblivious or is he too politely Canadian to ask if he can help?

In Group of Seven Awkward Moments – White Pine and the Group of Dwarfs, Snow White and the seven dwarves hang out in A.J. Casson’s The White Pine. The key here lies in the cedar-strip canoe — and no, it’s not the whip Snow White carries, nor the handcuffs, though they are hints. It’s the copy of Pierre Berton’s The Last Spike, a famous tome about the building of the Canadian Pacific Railway, the near-bankruptcy of the venture, the land boom of the time and the men who founded and joined Canada.

But Berton also said, “A Canadian is someone who knows how to make love in a canoe.”

It’s sure to be a tricky venture for Snow White, but she’s brought along her Hudson’s Bay blanket to make becoming a Canadian a more comfortable experience.

In her dioramas Thorneycroft repositions icons, stereotypes and items considered quintessentially Canadian: igloos, Tim Horton’s, hockey, Tom Thomson, the RCMP colour guard, beaver, loggers, seal hunting, Bob and Doug Mackenzie and the Trailer Park Boys, for example.

This reworking of icons brings to sharp focus the fact that Canada’s history isn’t all beautiful, pristine landscapes and glowing accolades about the natural world. And Thorneycroft wants to make audiences feel a bit uncomfortable. Because those awkward feelings will spur discussion. Discussion can bring down boundaries. And Thorneycroft wants people to question the Canadian identity; to question images and icons we may not necessarily relate to but are oft told we should.

In the works for three years, the Awkward series was borne out of a Winnipeg fundraiser.

“A few years ago I was doing a series called The Canadian Martyrdom Series,” says Thorneycroft. That series also involved figurines and dioramas. “A gallery in Winnipeg, Plug In ICA, was holding a fundraiser called Group of Seven With A Twist where artists created pieces to be auctioned off. I happened to have Bob and Doug McKenzie dolls (from the Martyrdom Series). I bought (Thomson’s) Early Snow poster, and the piece came together so quickly.”

Thorneycroft created Early Snow with Bob and Doug in 2005, the same year her Martyrdom series premiered. In it, the men are happily getting drunk while wolves circle.

The response was “fantastic.”

She soon decided to bake another batch of photographs.

“I took the recipe of using an image by the Group of Seven in the background and I showed awkward scenes related to Canadian identity in the foreground,” she explains.

“I remember writing down ‘A group of seven or more landscapes,’” says the artist. “But then I thought that title was boring. Next I thought, ‘A group of seven anxious moments.’ That almost made it. But the word awkward, it means so much. It embraces a huge range of situations. And it’s usually associated with something in bad taste, but not something atrocious.”

The exhibit may be considered atrocious by some art lovers in the Muskoka region, though.

A stone’s throw from Algonquin Park, Huntsville hosts The Group of Seven Outdoor Gallery, which began in 1999. Now over 40 murals strong, each piece is a replica of some of the best-loved works of the group and of Tom Thomson, including Autumn Garland, The Tangled Garden, Silver Birches and The Red Maple.

In Huntsville’s downtown is a larger-than-life statue of Thomson. He sits working by a canoe, his paints on his lap. Unveiled by town council in 2005, a dedication on the near 1,500-pound statue reads: “To the Memory of Tom Thomson 1877 – 1917, An artist, woodsman, guide and dreamer, whose brilliant vision defined the Canadian wilderness and captured the majesty and many colourful moods of Algonquin Park.”

“(Thorneycroft’s exhibit) doesn’t offend me personally,” says Gerry Lantaigne, art director for the outdoor gallery, “but I could see how it could offend others. But I also see how it could be applauded and lauded.”

The exhibit was listed by Canadian Art Magazine as one of the Top Ten Exhibitions of 2008. Lantaigne viewed the Awkward series online via gibsongallery.com/artists_pages/thorneycroft/thorneycroftindex.html.

“My initial reaction is bravo,” he says of the pieces. “It’s very tongue in cheek, very witty. To take the famous iconic art (of the Group of Seven) and other iconic Canadian symbols and intertwine them. They’re aptly titled.”

Group of Seven Awkward Moments - Avro Arrow at Sombre Hill is one that strikes him.

“Sombre Hill, it’s such a great statement,” he says. “Because the Avro was one of our greatest accomplishments, but yet one of Canada’s greatest technological defeats. The fact it’s set at Sombre Hill (by artist Arthur Lismer) and not at Golden Sunset, or Autumn Garland, it’s a sad statement on Canadian history. She’s combined the depressiveness of the two wonderfully.”

He’s pensive about Thorneycroft’s ultimate message.

“She’s doing some interesting stuff, aside from the morbidity of it. I think the humour and the quality of it are astounding — how great is it to have a Timmy’s double-double paired with a Group of Seven piece? But I can’t be totally sure of what she’s saying. Is she making fun of how we’re stuck in our limited identity? Are we limited to being associated with Hockey Night in Canada and double-doubles and the Group of Seven? In a sense, I think she’s making fun of our love of the Group of Seven, or perhaps she’s exploring the redundancy of our love of the Group of Seven.”

Thorneycroft says her work isn’t poking fun at the Group of Seven, claiming she’s using the pieces to highlight discussion about the Canadian identity.

“The Group of Seven no longer totally represents Canadian culture, but then, they never really did,” she explains. “It was exclusionary. It (depicted) Quebec and Ontario, mostly English Canada … most of the group were guys, and Emily Carr wasn’t part of the group. I think my perspective brings an interesting shift. I’m putting people in landscapes that, for the most part were people-less.”

And then there’s how mass-marketed they are.

“There’s postcards, calendars and more,” depicting the Group’s artwork, says Thorneycroft. “They’ve been shoved down our throats in a way and they’re over-commercialized.”

“I don’t think their work is irrelevant, though a lot of people do,” says Lantaigne. “A lot of people think (the Group) are over-exposed, but I honestly don’t believe that. I think there’s a lot of people who don’t even know about the Group — chalk it up to Canada’s ever-growing cultural diversity.”

This summer, Lantaigne worked with Huntsville High School students, tutoring and educating them about the historical artistic importance of the Group’s work. The end result of the educational outreach: 21 mini-murals painted by HHS students. Each was created from sketches painted by Thomson and the Group of Seven during their various trips to Algonquin Park.

“For the most part, these kids are introduced to the Group of Seven via my schoolwork,” he explains. “When I work with a school there are always three or four students that just get it. They start to understand the art itself; how important the use of colour, composition and the use of light and dark were. The Group weren’t well accepted. Not when they started in 1920 and not when they stopped in 1932.”

And Lantaigne believes it’s important to acknowledge what the Group accomplished.

“Something that’s greatly misunderstood — now that they’re 100 years past — is the struggle they went through to show people what they accomplished (as artists) and to show people that we did have a Canadian identity. That there were people in Canada capable of greatness. In the art world at the time that was really doubted by the art aficionados. To this day, for example in the music industry, a lot of our artists need to leave the country to be acknowledged. It’s something the group tried to combat back in their time.”

Lantaigne’s not sure how Canada, Myth and History would fare if it came to the Algonquin region.

“It’d be interesting, that’s for sure,” he says. “There are people who are part of the art community who might have interest in it. Those not interested in art might find it insulting, even disturbing.”

But controversy breeds discussion and Thorneycroft asks that audiences take a breath and view the work with an open mind.

“I’m encouraging a discourse with them,” she explains. “I’m bringing (the Group) into contemporary culture.”

“There’s a complexity and a simplicity in (Thorneycroft’s work) at the same time,” says Lantaigne who was impressed with the details.

“They’ve changed, become more complex (since I began them),” says Thorneycroft. “I’ve spent a lot of time putting in details; putting in each piece. I want people to enjoy the humour that’s embedded in the work.”

In order to make it detailed, to make it layered, Thorneycroft did a lot of research, including into the Group of Seven.

“I wasn’t originally a fan,” she explains. “I knew their work, but I thought ‘I can take it or leave it.’ ”

Then her mother gave her a copy of The Group of Seven And Tom Thomson for Christmas, written by David P. Silcox.

“I’ve spent hours looking at the paintings in that book,” she admits. “Some of them are fantastic. My intent was to subvert the Group of Seven, but they’ve subverted me. I think Tom Thomson was such a fine painter, especially the stuff he did right on the land, right out in the open. The minimum mark, the sense of energy; it’s quite extraordinary.”

Curated by Sharona Adamowicz-Clements, Canada, Myth or History includes Thorneycroft’s photographs and a select number of associated landscapes by the Group of Seven, Tom Thomson and Emily Carr. A video created by the gallery, artefacts from Thorneycroft’s tableaux and an accompanying exhibition catalogue round out the piece. On display at the McMichael until November 29, galleries in Winnipeg and Ottawa have expressed interest in the exhibit.

Thorneycroft’s not done yet. Ideas abound and it’s only a matter of time before she adds to her Group of Seven Awkward Moments series — and you can bet there will be more bloodshed. But then you can’t bake a new national identity without breaking a few eggs, can you?