Artsing about

Six exhibitions and one cabaret show in five days - it must be festival time!

The 20th annual Midsumma Festival hasn't even officially kicked off yet, and already things are hotting up. Admittedly two of the exhibitions I saw on Sunday had nothing to do with Midsumma, but still...

Thanks to the social joys of Facebook, on Sunday I trouped off to the NGV Ian Potter Centre with a fine group of folk to catch the final day of the Gordon Bennett exhibition. A major retrospective of this important Australian artist's career, it was a dazzling exploration of his themes of appropriation, identity and history over the three decades of his career. Some of Bennett's work I'd seen before, such as The Apotheosis of Captain Cook, as it's part of the NGV's permanent collection; but much of the work, such as his Notes to Basquiat paintings were new to me. Fascinating stuff; particularly his most recent, minimal work, which displays remarkable vigour within its non-representational lines.

Thence it was off to the Arts Centre, and the Nick Cave exhibition (on until April 6), which was extremely well attended; the majority of viewers being under 30, so far as I could tell, so the Arts Centre must be very happy with the demographic it's attracting to the show. While the exhibition's degree of devotion, almost worship of Cave was a little off-putting, certainly the assemblage of ephemera, diaries, scribbled lyrics and explanatory notes and interview snippets from Cave himself was fascinating in the extreme. An accessible, quirky and exhaustively detailed look at the life and career of Melbourne's gaunt grandfather of goth.

On Wednesday I attended the launch of Queer City, Midsumma's CBD-based visual arts program, a conga-line of viewers traipsing from 45 Downstairs to the City Library, the Majorca Building's display cases, and thence to Loop.

The work at 45 Downstairs left me cold. David Lehmann's detailed bead works, while intricate, struck me as little more than decorative fetishism that failed to explore the subject of masculinity, and its commodified delivery via the internet, in any depth. His premise reads well on paper, but felt shallow. Equally empty was a series of works by T.J. Bateson; drab tonal pieces allegedly evoking nature, but for me at least, saying nothing at all. The most successful of the three artists showing at 45 was Tim Craker, but even then his piece, Mixed Marriage, left me unfulfilled; as if the work, a net of plastic cutlery and chopsticks and a visual meditation upon cultural difference, was a work in progress or an idea that had yet to be fleshed out.

Sunsets, Troy-Anthony Baylis' work at the City Library, was more complex in its execution; warm woolen works with an almost painterly texture, making me think he's definitely an artist to keep an eye on; while Glass Wing, a video work by young queers from the YAK project (a social support group for same-sex attracted youth in the CBD), was more than competent in its juxtaposition of the personal and the emotional with the impersonal nature of the landscape in which our relationships are born.

A program glitch meant that the Degraves Street subway display cases run by the Platform Artists Group were unavailable; so after a quick inspection of the cabinets they operate in the Majorca Building, I headed home, rather underwhelmed, to prepare for Thursday morning's radio show. I suspect there are much stronger works in Midsumma's visual arts program this year; I just have to find them.

Certainly Chaos and Revelry, an exhibition at Brunswick's Counihan Gallery, raised the bar for Midsumma art; if you like the neo-Baroque and camp, that is. I dropped in to last night's opening for half an hour; finding some of the works deeply satisfying (Ex De Medici's piece for instance; and a video work by Alex Martinis Roe) while other works, such as William Eicholtz's deliberately kitsch sculputures, weren't to my taste at all.

Finally, I ended this week's art diet with the opening night last night of Vaudeville X at the Arts Centre Black Box.

This barbed and clever cabaret takes aim at the foibles of the middle class; from snobbery to social welfare to the vapidity of backpackers and society's thinly veiled contempt for the poor; but as much as I occasionally shrieked with mirth during the show last night, something about it didn't quite gel. I'm not sure if it was the venue - the Arts Centre Black Box is an appallingly lifeless space, lacking good acoustics and atmosphere - or the jaded opening night crowd, who really didn't seem to be as engaged as they could have been; or perhaps it was simply the case that, being three years old now, Vaudeville X simply doesn't resonate as once it could. That said, while I found it weaker than Intimate Apparel, Michael Dalley's latest show, and one of my personal highlights at last year's Melbourne Fringe; it was still extremely entertaining, with predominantly strong performances only occasionally weakened by the odd spot of lacklustre sound.

Michael Dalley and High Performance Company in Vaudeville X @ the Arts Centre Black Box, until February 2. Details at www.theartscentre.com.au or www.midsumma.org.au

Review: Modern Britain 1900-1960 @ the NGV

I was, I confess, initially a bit dubious about the latest exhibition to open at the National Gallery of Victoria's St Kilda Road complex, Modern Britain 1900-1960, when I first heard about it. In retrospect, I think I was perhaps subconciously expecting a collection of bland landscapes and terribly prim portraits; a visual reflection of the "ordinary decent" Britain whose citizens and standards Joe Orton so delighted in shocking.

Instead, it's a fascinating and focussed exploration of the impact of modernist art movements such as Post-Impressionism, Futurism, Surrealism and more, and how they first assailed and ultimately swept aside the stultifying hangover of Victorian values in British art.

In many ways, Modern Britain is a companion piece to last year's NGV exhibition, British Art and the 60s from Tate Britain, which was a detailed survey of art created in the decade when the world's eye swung away from the USA and back to the Britain of David Hockney, The Beatles and The Kray Twins. Unlike that exhibition, however, Modern Britain is drawn from the collections of numerous public galleries rather than just one institution, and is perhaps the richer thereby; coloured as it is by the tastes and interests of dozens of different curators at some 20 galleries, as well as a number of private collectors.

More than 250 works, representing 93 artists, have been taken down from the walls or dusted off from where they've languished in the vaults of galleries across Australia and New Zealand; and loaned to the NGV for this broad survey of art documenting the impact of two World Wars, and much more beside.

Viewing the vibrant, post-impressionistic works of Vanessa Bell and Duncan Grant; and the paintings of Walter Sickert and other artists of the Camden Town Group, who championed the legitimacy of the everyday as a suitable subject for art in 1911; it's easy to imagine how exciting and confronting such works might have seemed when first seen by audiences who'd grown up on the formal artist conventions enshrined by the Royal Academy, and the refined artifice of the Pre-Raphaelites. So too with the dynamic, Futurist-inspired linocuts of Claude Flight, Lill Tschudi and Sybil Andrews; and Duncan Grant's superb The Bathers (c.1926-33), a glorious, ambitious evocation of masculine beauty and energy.

Grouped both chronologically and thematically, it's possible to gain a sense of the impact made by successive art movements as they rolled like waves across the English Channel from the Continent, and the corresponding social changes that accompanied them. Some artists, however, sank rather than swam, as was the case with the unfortunate, conflicted and presently under-rated Glyn Philpot (1884-1937), whose work is, for me, one of the real highlights of Modern Britain.

Like a character out of Evelyn Waugh's Brideshead Revisted, Philpot's life was a struggle between his Catholicism and his sexuality; a struggle which expressed itself, in part, in his richly textured, darkly luminous portraits of Italian soldiers and other young men from the working classes (shades of E.M. Forster's Maurice and the English fascination with rough trade, a factor present in the sexual assignations of another, more successful British artist, Francis Bacon). In Philpot's case, however, there was another conflict playing out in his work, which came to a head in 1931. Exposure to the decadent world of Weimar-era Berlin, followed by a stint in Paris where he explored the work of Picasso and the Surrealists, led to Philpot embracing both his sexuality and the modernist aesthetic, with fatal consequences.

The new painterly style he displayed upon his return to England, in a controversial solo show in 1932, shocked and scandalised the London art world. His painting The God Pan was rejected by the Royal Academy, and the society commissions he depended upon dried up almost completely. The following years saw Philpot beset by financial and personal difficulties, and led to his untimely death in 1937.

From forgotten artists such as Philpot and the wartime painter Louis Duffy, to artists of the stature of Augustus Johns and Lucian Freud, the breadth of work displayed in Modern Britain 1900-1960 is truly remarkable, as well as deeply engaging. It's a vibrant, dynamic exhibition, and one that I unreservedly recommend.

On seeing ONCE, friends, art and poetry

As a consequence of having a relatively quiet night last night, I bounced out of bed at 8:30am and set about doing things - which for me on a Sunday is highly unusual, let me tell you. It was a day of simple pleasures, but also a highly enjoyable day. I enjoyed the sunlight, the sense of vigor that comes with not being hungover in the morning, and a general sense of joie de vive.

I also:

• Read the paper over breakfast;
  
• Tidied up, wiped down benches, etc;
• Put out the recycling;
• Sorted through a huge stack of mail and media releases, sorting the wheat from the chaff, and started planning my radio show for the next couple of weeks;
  
• And listened to about 10 promo CDs I've been sent, which barely makes a dint in the stack of CDs on the coffee table, but at least its a start.

Then, just after midday, I set off to - finally - see the new Irish film Once, which I've been meaning to check out for the last couple of weeks.

And oh, what an utter delight it was. In all my years of movie-going, I don't think I've ever seen a film which so perfectly captures the joy of creativity; the fraught, awkward, painful pleasure of bringing a new work of art into the world. In this instance it's music that is the focus of the film; but any artist will appreciate Once, as will anyone who's not an utter curmudgeon; because it's also very much a film about love.

Tender, simple, and beautifully told, Once refines its story down to the fundamental basics of human need: for companionship and love. It also, partially through budgetary requirements, tells its tale with paucity and restraint; focussing on emotional honesty and truth instead of flashy cinematography or incidental detail.

In many ways, it's an archtypal plot told with the simplest of storytelling. Boy meets girl, boy and girl make beautiful music together, boy loses girl. I won't go into the details of the story, suffice to say that it's sincere and gentle and deeply moving: throughout the 88 minute running time of Once I was constantly wiping away tears - often tears of joy.

Please see it.

Please also see Experimenta Playground, a new media exhibition now showing at Black Box @ The Arts Centre, which I revisted this afternoon (via street art in Hosier Lane) after attending its opening night a couple of weeks ago. A word of advice though: Baby Love, an interactive installation which allows you to spin around dodgem-car style in a giant tea cup while being seranaded by a giant cloned baby burbling remixed love songs, is only on display between 12-2pm, and 5-6pm daily.

This afternoon's pleasures were extended by birthday drinks with my good friend Cerise, along with many of her cohorts. We drank, laughed and discussed drug abuse and the Hawthorn Football Club, among other topics.

Thereafter - isn't this turning into a gently action-packed day? - I headed home for an hour or so, then returned to the city and a rooftop performance by The Mime Set and poet Sean M Whelan, at the rooftop bar atop Curtin House on Swanston Street. Sadly, inclement weather brought an early end to the evening, but the combination of music, poetry, and the city skyline at night seen from a new perspective added up to a winning combination. The soon-to-be-voyaging GMan and a certain Hibernian seemed to agree with me.

It's been a simple, busy, happy Sunday. I hope yours was equally enjoyable.

Go pixilate yourself!

It's been a busy week, and one that's been both exciting and totally draining.

As well as the by-now standard stress of putting out a new issue of MCV - this week with a fabulous cover by Dole Diary - and my weekly radio show on 3RRR, I've also been focussed on the closing night of Q + A (queer + alternative) which took place on Thursday night.

Before that, however, there were a couple of arts events I had to attend first...

On Wednesday I attended both the media launch and the official opening of Pixar: 20 years of animation exhibition at the Australian Centre for the Moving Image. Why both? Well the media launch was a much better time to actually view the work, while the evening's formal affairs was an opportunity for free booze, nibbles and networking (amongst other dignitaries, I had a chat with Richard Moore, the new director of the Melbourne International Film Festival - so hopefully he remembers me come red carpet time when I'm trying to score a quick interview for 3RRR - as well as running into an old acquintance from my role-playing days, Matt, who I haven't seen for ages and who is now the Head of School at the Academy of Interactive Entertainment here in Melbourne).

Like most launches, neither was memorable for its speeches (which included a short speech by Victorian Arts Minister Lynn Kosky, pictured above - and thanks to Simon for attending the launch with me and taking a few shots for MCV) but the exhibition itself more than made up for that.

Before seeing it I confess I'd been a bit suss - it seemed more a money-spinner for ACMI than an exhibition with serious merit, but for serious animation fans and Pixar fans alike, it's definitely going to be a winner. A detailed, behind the scenes look into the production process of making computer animated movies, the Pixar exhibition displays the level of depth and detail that goes into imagining the characters, setting and scenery of their films, such as The Incredibles and Finding Nemo. There's an array of models, production sketches, alternate character designs, films and much more on display, providing real insight into the developmental process at play for a Pixar production.

As my erstwhile housemate and +1 No-Necked Monsters has already observed, there's an amazing zoetrope at the heart of the exhibition that is the perfect encapsulation of the animation process, but there's much more to see and revel in as well. While lacking the depth of the recent Kubrick exhibition, Pixar: 20 years of animation is still bloody good fun. Give yourself about two hours to explore it in detail.

Thursday night was another opening, another 'Melbourne Winter Masterpieces' exhibition, this time at the National Gallery of Victoria in St Kilda Rd, but more of that in my next post...

Very Moving Images

Last Wednesday witnessed the official opening of the latest exhibition in the subterranean screen gallery at the Australian Centre for the Moving Image (ACMI), Centre Pompidou Video Art 1965 – 2005.

Drawn from the Musée national d'art moderne Collection of the Centre Pompidou in Paris, the exhibition traces the evolution of the video image in contemporary art, and presents the aesthetic realisations of artists who have utilised video as a creative medium. From early, small-scale works to more recent and ambitious pieces, it’s a remarkably intimate exhibition, featuring numerous small monitors, equipped with multiple sets of headphones, that facilitate an individual appreciation of the various works rather than being dominated by larger, more cinematic displays.

That said, more elaborate full and split screen works are also on display, including UK artist and film-maker Isaac Julien’s Baltimore (a homage to 1970s blacksploitation films such as Shaft and Cleopatra Jones, but also a subtle, surreal commentary on issues of race, class and history) and French artist Pierre Huyghe’s exploration of the twilight zone between fact and fiction, The Third Memory; a carefully observed fusion of Sidney Lumet’s 1975 film Dog Day Afternoon and the real-life events it was based upon.

Among the exhibition’s highlights are the studied meaninglessness of Samuel Beckett’s precisely ordered Quad I & II; Bruce Nauman’s Going Around the Corner Piece, a playful satire of the familiar ‘white cube’ exhibition space that simultaneously welcomes and excludes the viewer, and also a subtle commentary on surveillance culture; and Tony Oursler’s Switch, which inhabits unexpected corners imbuing the exhibition with a vivid sense of individual personality.

Centre Pompidou Video Art 1965 – 2005, a free exhibition, is open daily, 10am – 6pm until Sunday May 27.

There and back again

Given that I'm interviewing the curator of The World's Most Photographed, an exhibition currently displayed at the Bendigo Art Gallery on SmartArts in a few weeks' time, I thought I'd take the opportunity of a quiet weekend to head up to Bendigo to see the show.

It was a quick trip, as while there I convinced myself that I absolutely, positively had to rush back to Melbourne in order to get to the Victoria Police Museum before it closed, in order to buy a copy of a a local history of the wallopers (it's a research thing). Of course, once back in Melbourne, I found out that the museum isn't open on weekends... Doh!

A little known fact about the train trip to Bendigo: some genius built the city just far enough away from Melbourne that the duration of the roughly two-hour train journey is the perfect period of time required to read The Saturday Age properly, rather than my traditional time-poor skim through its pages. How lovely.

Arriving at the gallery, the first work I saw after cloaking my backpack was by potter Victor Greenaway, who not only was a guest on my show last year, but is the father of one of my best friends, Lisa. This, I decided, was a good omen.

Next I stood and studied a group of works by indigenous artists representing various spirit figures, mostly Mimihs, by artists including Jimmy Bungurru and Jimmy Annunguna. While looking at the works I was struck by two things: firstly, that Annunguna's study of the Wurdeja creator spirit Malinji had a belly button, and secondly, that every other single person who entered the gallery in the few minutes I was contemplating the works walked straight past them without a second glance. Does that strike anyone else as slightly odd, and perhaps a little telling?

Before I went into view The World's Most Photographed, I took an hour to contemplate some of the gallery's contemporary Australian works, and was especially struck by:

• Two 2004 photographs by Donna Bailey (who's also been a guest on the show) Sunday, and Charlie and the Pink Biscuit (pictured, above right), which have a wonderful sense of vitality about them, and a tangible sense of place and emotional investment about them;
• Two works by Jan Nelson, the abstract precision of Summer Collection (enamel on linen, 2004) and the evocative and emotionally resonant sculpture (pictured below left) Blackwood (fibreglass, oil paint and rock, 2004, from her Walking in Tall Grass series).
• A marvellously sensual, fluid and organic abstracted landscape by Dale Frank, awarded the Arthur Guy memorial prize in 2005, entitled Three Lies: Good things come in small packages; Nothing is interesting if you are not interested; One man's meat is another man's poison. They will show you everything they have - their sexy bodies. When the student is ready, the master will appear. Laughter is the closest distance between two people while Happiness is not a state of mind, but a manner of travelling. Tarampa Hotel, Tarampa Road, 2004 (acrylic and varnish on linen canvas).
• And lastly, the 2004 video installation by New Zealand-born artist Daniel von Sturmer, Screen Test, which I found utterly engrossing.

As for The World's Most Photographed, which was curated by the National Portrait Gallery, London, while it encourages us to rethink our approach to the curated and media-manipulated public image of the celebrity (including, in this instance, James Dean, Adolf Hitler and Queen Victoria) overall I was a little underwhelmed. Perhaps it was the modest scale of the exhibition, perhaps it was because I'd been so blown away by the works I've named above, but it just didn't quite work for me, I'm afraid.

The exhibition is showing until March 25.

And on the train home, given that I'd already read the paper from cover to cover, I wrote six pages of notes concerning plot and characters for my novel, and mapped out the various avenues of research I have to undertake before I feel informed enough to really start work on the nuts and bolts of the story.