Sculptures by the Sea 2013

Another year at the largest sculpture exhibition in the world.

Some things stay the same: the heat, the crowds, the little fat men (from Danish artist Keld Moseholm), and the same sort of things that just stick upwards.

Different this year: many more pieces that were obviously made from "found" or recycled (rather: re-used) materials.  Some of those works had a cheap feel to them (lots of plastics, some of them clearly not post-consumer waste).  Some, like Subodh Kerkar's Chicken Cafreal, had so much structural integrity that it was not obvious what it was made of.

For me, the clear standout was a staircase to infinity by New Zealander David McCracken.  My eyes were constantly drawn to it; I've not been so attracted to a Sculptures work for a few years.  My 11-year-old son felt the same, but interestingly my 12-year-old daughter wasn't moved: "What's so special about it?"

On the other hand, we all agreed we loved the crows - Mikaela Castledine's East of the mulberry tree - the legend of the ten red crows.  Such rich colours.

Sculptures by the Sea is on until November 10.

Alex Snellgrove again

Two posts back I mentioned Alex Snellgrove's current exhibition in Clovelly, Sydney.

Here's one of the paintings from the exhibition: Persian Girl.  I'm so impressed by her ability to depict the water.  She says the secret is in looking at the layering.  Which doesn't make it much easier for me to fathom how she actually achieves it.

 As with several others there, it's the tidal pool at Coogee beach.

 

Details again: the exhibition runs to Sunday 9 December, at Gallery East, 21 Burnie St, Clovelly (no website), Thu-Sun 11-6pm.  Alex's web site is http://alexsnellgrove.com/

Bazza in Australia, art, Alex Snellgrove and Clarice Beckett

Today I met up with Bazza in the flesh, for the first time.

His blog, To Discover Ice, is always interesting and reveals a lively passion for a great variety of interests.

We had a very stimulating and wide-ranging conversation, which reflects at least some of what moves each of us to diarise.

He has a particular interest in art - has in fact studied art history, which he really loved.
I rued the fact that I hadn't encapsulated significant parts of my life in photos, but at least I could show him a recent painting by my 11-year-old daughter:

We both had to get away to meet obligations for our wives.  My wife was, in fact, going out to dinner with local Coogee artist Alex Snellgrove, who has been tutoring my daughter.  We have a painting of hers, which I hadn't been able to show Bazza:

Her luminescent style reminds me of Clarice Beckett, an under-appreciated Melbourne artist from last century.  Here's an example:

More of Alex Snellgrove can be seen here; some more from Clarice Beckett can be found here.  Enjoy, Bazza.

19-Nov-2012 Update: Alex Snellgrove's web site is http://alexsnellgrove.com/.  She has an exhibition coming up from 29 November to 9 December, at Gallery East, 21 Burnie St, Clovelly (no website), Thu-Sun 11-6pm.

Sculpture by the sea 2012

From Bondi to Tamarama beach, up to 4 November, Sculpture By The Sea is apparently the biggest sculpture exhibition in the world.

Here's a selection: my three favourites.  Some more of my photos are available on this web album.  My kids both took lots of photos; I still haven't gone through them yet, but they should be good.

Come back (Nakayama)

 My favourite: a granite portal, facing out to sea from a granite chair. It has strength.

Kalaidoscope cube (Ritchie)

I tried to capture this one reflecting its environment. Again, a very well positioned work.

Capital tension (Rhodes)

 I did like this for the tension between the bull and the bear.

 

 Another one - in my above web album - looked odd, but the meaning was not very obvious until I read up on it: a marking of the height of that tsunami in Japan. Very salient for the site. Have a look. Exhibition ends this Sunday.

Film: The Clock (UK, 2010)

At the Museum of Contemporary Art one rainy afternoon, I encountered one of the more unusual films I've ever seen.

Made by British-based video artist Christian Marclay,  the premise of The Clock is very simple: it's a montage of a large number of segments from various films (mainly Hollywood) where someone looks at a clock (or watch).  Moreover, it's been edited to show the time in real time - and it covers a full 24 hours.  Yes, that's how long it is, and you will normally find it scheduled to show the time in real time.  Which means over time, you'll carry an awareness of the current time.  This is a unique  breach of the fourth wall - that is, the film is constantly reminding you you're in real life.

The concept iself is quite neat.  But in fact, it's more than that, because the editing is good, and there is a certain coherency to it.  In some ways, it's the coherency of an mp3 player on shuffle, where the music gradually assumes a kind of sameness, a melding.  Yet in other ways, there is a feeling of something happening - or, often enough, something on the verge of happening.

And then the action moves on.  Another act in the "narrative" takes over.

As such, it maintains a rhythm: a steady rhythm, a post-modern one, which can perhaps get somewhat monotonous over time.  If you watch it long enough.  Or does it become meditative?  After a while, would you settle into the rhythm, find the constant time-check irritating, or be frustrasted by the "almost" nature of the action, or the lack of real continuity?  As it stands, I had to go after 35 minutes, but that wasn't quite enough to lose faith, and I was left wanting more.

Unsurprisingly, it looks like the most popular venue for this film is art galleries.  An experience more than entertainment, still escapism - but only to a point.  Because there's the steady tick ticking of the clock...

Sculptures By The sea

Every year in November, Sculptures By The Sea comes to Sydney: an exhibition laid out on the coastal walk from Tamarama beach to Bondi.  That's only a few beaches away from us, so it's a regular treat for the family.  It's become more and more popular each year - so crowded, in fact, that it's much like Pitt St mall at lunchtime.

This year, I've posted to Picasa a lot of photos from the event. Despite my attempts to crop them to suit, you can tell what a crowd it was by the number of people milling around them.  (It was very hard to take pictures without people standing right against the sculpture.  Many seemed to think the photos should be more about themselves than the art work - thus sullying forever their souvenirs of the art.)

Here's my photo album:

2010 Sculptures by the sea

It's not a full set of the exhibition - just the ones I felt motivated enough to capture.  There's also a bonus photo this year: a whale was spouting in the distance.

I got the catalogue, but deliberately set out to appreciate each art work purely in situ.  If you want to know the name of the artist and work, right-click on the image as if to save it, and the title will be revealed.  However, there's one work I couldn't spot in the catalogue.  If anyone can find out what the untitled photo is, please let me know.

Flake wins my prize for the most ingenious: a traffic light that had seemingly been ripped out of of its location, complete with trailing electric cables and an old bike leaning against it.  Apart from that and the adaptable migrant (the camel above), my favourites were splash and anaconda (immediately above), both for their vibrant colours on a very bright day.

Art prize scandal: trustees look even stupider

The $25,000 Wynne prize is looking pretty tatty at the moment.  The newly-crowned winner should be dethroned, sent home empty-handed, and the trustees should look suitably abject, and cast around forlornly for a replacement.

The problem: the winner, Sam Leach, has copied from a 1660 painting, Boatmen Moored on the Shore of a Lake, by a Dutch painter called Adam Pynacker.

The Wynne Trustees were out and about today, defending their decision.  One spouted something about there being no conventions for referencing another work... even Edmund Capon, Director of the Art Gallery of New South Wales, and himself a Trustee, has been stubbornly holding his line.

"Referencing", my foot.  It's out-and-out plaguarism, as can be clearly seen from a side-by-side comparison in today's Herald.

The Wynne prize, one of the more lucrative art prizes in Australia, is dished out each year by the trustees of the Art Gallery of New South Wales for an Australian landscape painting.  Past winners have stretched the meaning of the word landscape (one, I recall, seemed more of a self-portrait than landscape).  But it's never been awarded for a landscape originally done before any European had even heard of Australia.

The media has been remarkably restrained, for some unfathomable reason.  They reiterate that the painter had not tried to conceal the similarity - but then, he had not made clear the extent of similitude - which omission was quite egregious. The exact composition of the painting has been retained, down to reproducing the tendrils of branch across the top and the variegated wood snaking across the bottom.  Only the subject boat/men of the original have been painted out.

Whether you argue the blatancy of the act or the lack of Australian landscape, the award should obviously be revoked.

In their favour, the Trustees cannot be expected to be across the full catalogue of the last five centuries of European art.  But once the truth is made clear, it is remarkably stupid to attempt to defend the indefensible.  They only get egg on their faces if they open their mouths.

Edmund Capon, a highly respected member of the Sydney establishment, has in recent times made increasingly serious noises about retiring.  If he doesn't change tack on this issue, one way or another his retirement will be hastened.

The whole thing is so stupid, and to persist is even worse.

Update  29-Apr-2010:
The Trustees' verdict is in.  And if you're of the same mind, "common sense has prevailed" and the artist will keep his prize.  The decision is reported here in the Herald.  The more telling comments:
a) The Trustees said that when awarding the prize, they recognised the winner had the "light and air" of a Dutch 17th century painting, but also "appreciated its quality and mysterious implications of the natural world".
b) "none of the 10 trustees present was in favour [of revoking the prize]".
c) ...however, "some felt that the artist should have made a greater declaration of the source of inspiration".
d) Capon: "there's no way in the world that the same board of trustees will look at the Wynne next year without the recollection and the memory of what's happened this year".
e) The art gallery board said the painting was an "idealised landscape, one where time and place are indistinct."

Bollocks.  The clear translation: the Trustees had egg on their faces, but didn't want it to seem even worse by revoking the prize.  Idiots.
The last words go to some letter-writers to the Herald (to be found here):

"The Wynne Prize judges could not have done otherwise. By revoking the prize, they would have disqualified themselves and made themselves unfit in the first place to award the prize for a copy of a painting made in the Netherlands before the discovery of Australia."

Bela Somssich-Szogyeny

and

"The board of trustees of the Art Gallery of NSW must be living in an ''idealised'' reality. They are either disingenuous, ignorant or plain wrong to suggest that Sam Leach's Wynne-winning painting was an ''idealised landscape, one where time and place are indistinct''. I can inform them the time is 17th century, the place, Italy."

Glen op den Brouw

Sculptures by the Sea - 2008

I know this is rather late, but I can record at least a couple of items that struck me in last November's exhibition of sculptures placed on the walk between Tamarama Beach and Bronte Beach.

First up is the one that made the biggest impression on me. I liked its strength, and its unexpectedness.

Interface by Michael Lipman

"my aim is to create the interface between the ocean and man. The ocean is turning back the iron road as its force cannot be controlled."


My wife's vote (and my next favourite):

Mongrel country - nil tenure by Amanda Stuart

My six-year-old son's vote: Poroplastic 2 [an exploded motorcycle] by Richard Goodwin

My seven-year-old daughter's favourite:

Humpback gunship by Benjamin Gilbert

Kenneth Clark's Civilisation

Kenneth Clark's vision of civilisation had a viscereal effect on me.


Not too long ago, I happened upon the 1973 BBC series The Ascent Of Man, a monumental dissertation by Jacob Bronowski. It is a scientist's view of the history of humanity, and Bronowski is very humanist and thoughtful - in both the philosophical and analytical senses - in his considerations. An intellectual pleasure to watch.

It was made as a complement to Clark's 1969 series Civilisation. Again, I happened on this - at the local library - and was interested in this art historian's view of history - also said to be monumental.

However, I found this work to be disturbing rather than thought-provoking. Clark had ideas and narrative too, and put a lot of thought into it. Yet he quite struck me as fascistic in his view of the progress of history. His was an elitist perspective, whereby the watchword was a specific romantic vision of the "hero" - a unique person in history who by force of will forged a part of civilisation.

This was not Bronowski's gentle but rousing celebration of achievement; more, a Nietzchean tale of the triumph of the spirit over mere mortals, while ignoring all those that provide the milieu in which the individual achieves. Not to decry the achievements of a Shakespeare or a Da Vinci, but a lack of celebration of the synergetics of a society is ignorant at best.


As a scientist, Bonowski knows the scientific dialectic is a marvellous example of the joy of collective achievement and the exciting exchange of ideas. Particularly insightful and imaginative individuals such as Charles Darwin are rightly lauded as leaving a full body of meaningful work. But we learn and foster ideas when we have a culture in which to express. And those who have contributed ideas that languish - such as Mendel - can be resurrected later when those ideas are discovered to contribute anew to the dialectic.


Clark's world is one in which an Albert Speer could have been lauded - if his creations had survived context. Success is its own justification; in this world, Carravagio could be seen as being rightly justified in torturing models to death in search of his muse.


On a personal level, I feel Clark has debased the legacy of some of those whose work I admire, such as Michelangelo and Da Vinci. And better celebrations of history through architecture and art can be found.

Art obscenity charges

...screams the headline on the front page of today's Herald.

A photography exhibition in Sydney has been closed down, and police are investigating the possibility of charging the photographer and the art gallery.

The issue: photos of a naked 13-year-old girl which can be seen as sexual.

Artists, in turn, screamed censorship ("what about Carravagio?" yelled one).

The photographer, Bill Henson, apparently has a high reputation, and has apparently been doing such subject matter since at least 1995.

What about Carravagio? Of course, in recent years, the issue of pedophilia has rightly become significant, with a renewed fervour in prosecution for both offences of decades ago, and for current accessors of kiddie porn over the internet. So cultural context inevitably plays a big part. And in general the current culture of prosecution is quite understandable. But art?

One of the Herald's articles was a commentary by John McDonald, who says inter alia:

"His pictures are dark and edgy, but it would be foolish to write them off as 'pornography'.
"Pornography, as I understand it, is a form that revels in its own sordidness. It is a commercial product made for the sole purpose of titillation."

In the ebb and flow of debate about pornography, there is one point that is overlooked (in fact I can recall witnessing scarcely any discussion about this ever). That is that once images are released - in any context - they can become pornography in the hands of viewers. What becomes pornography is entirely in the hands of the audience, and out of control of those generating the images.

I remember some years back, a lesbian filmmaker made a film that she aimed at women, stating she was reclaiming pornography and giving control back to women. Yet she had no control of the work once it is released, bar what a very disparate audience will make of it. And there will always be a part of the audience that will take a work pornographically.

So the producer of the work can say what they like, and have whatever intention they claim, but they have no ultimate control over how the audience responds to the work.

This is why, I believe, debate will continue to rage about the issue. The reception of a work is in the hands of the audience, not the producer.

Sculptures by the Sea - Pt II

The People's Choice award for Scuptures By The Sea was won by the Gravity-defying Lift, Plonk, featured in my previous entry on Sculptures. It was my favourite, too, especially for its impossible aspect and its vibrancy.

Here's some more.

Carcutter - Dillon McEwan

This one was my kids' favourite. This is the ant that got away. Up the hill were a few other ants, still at work on a car.

Formal Rags - Joachim van Den Hurk

Someone reading a discarded UN Climate Change convention.

i-sea - Tim Kyle

Scuptures By The Sea 2007 - Pt I

A couple of pieces from this year's Sculptures, on the walk from Bondi to Tamarama. Ended today.

Lift Plonk - Chi Phan

The Obelisk - Keld Moseholm

No, it's not really been taken over by little fat creatures.

More to come.

The mystery of the Venice pastiche

We got a painting a few years ago. It's no masterpiece, but it sits quite well in our library.

At first glance, it's a picture of Venice.

But it's not. There is a limited number of larger bridges in Venice, and this is not one of them.

A friend of my wife has indicated that it's a pastiche. The main buildings come from a variety of different places; the fishing boat shouldn't be there; and the gondolas aren't Venetian.

The signature is J Glenn, for what it's worth. A competent amateur at best, given the pastiche nature, and the attempted fixup of the building at left. But someone must have been happy with the painting, because it's been given quite a good frame.

I'm curious to know the exact origin of the various elements - in particular, the bridge, and the building at left. Bonus points for the non-descript building second left, and the foreground vista. (I will post some closeups of these.) I would be surprised if the painting doesn't contain some elements of Venice.

Still, it lends good ambience to the room it's in, anchoring the library and bringing that space closer to what we envisaged in the very first place.

World: Spain, Morocco, and the Devil

Bazza's mention of a holiday in Marbella, in Spain, reminded me of my trip there... a long time ago.

My main impression of Marbella was of a tourist strip unceremoniously dumped between a pleasant little town and the sea. English pubs and German tourists abounded.

I have a strong memory of a policeman saying "arriba, arriba", with wide sweeps of his arms (that was where the youth hostel was, up the hill). We also stopped at an art centre, which seemed to have some association with Picasso. I bought the pendant below, my Spanish Devil. It wasn't terribly expensive, and it's possibly made of brass. But it's memorable. Is it reminiscent of Picasso in any way? Or just some local artist's trinket?



From there, we got a wild and crazy ride to Algieciras (the bloke was probably both drunk and mad), then a ferry to Ceuta ("sway-ta"), a little-known Spanish enclave on the tip of Africa.
From there it was a border crossing to Morocco, which was a surreal experience. My friend got hassled because she had an unusual haircut (shaven at the sides!), and the guards simply wouldn't let us through.
Just as we were ready to give up, there was a sudden commotion, people yelling and rushing all over the place. I remember a bunch of matronly women in dark robes, running from Ceuta to Morocco. The guards gave some of the women a kick, but nothing really came of it. Except that we unobtrusively made our way through.
It was probably something to do with duty-free shopping/smuggling from Ceuta.


In Casablanca, we ended up locked up all day in a well-appointed flat, by a well-meaning middle-class gentleman who said he traded - what? - between Morocco and the Netherlands. He didn't want us to brave the Youth Hostel in Casablanca, and he wanted us to be safe, but not to make off with his worldly possessions. Hence the prison treatment.
For our troubles, he took us to a couple of good restaurants. He said he was Berber; the only language we had in common was French. We spent a very pleasant afternoon at a seafood restaurant overlooking the sea in Rabat. But the strain of practising my rusty French gave me quite a headache later.

Those are my main memories of that holiday (oh, and some food poisoning on the way back). I had a look for some photos to include here, but it was too long ago and far away.

All I have left, then, is the so-called Devil above. I'm keen to hear any comments on it.

World: Sculpture by the sea 2

In response to the rapturous silence, I am posting a few more pictures from the exhibition Sculpture By The Sea, in which art works were positioned from Tamarama to Bondi beaches.

Fisher, by Hugh Ramage

This is my favourite; as it happens, it also won the "Director's prize". I took quite a few photos of it, but it was so popular I could never get a shot free of people. Material looks to be plywood: the lines on it are the edges of the wood.

Hot with a chance of late storm by The Glue Society. This melted ice cream van won the people's choice prize.

Also have a look at the winner of the site specific prize: cipher, by Konstantin Dimopoulos. It needed to be appreciated in motion, so I posted a video of cipher to YouTube.


And finally, details from atlas – shadow dance II by Frank Woo. Here's the base of same:

World: Sculpture by the Sea 1

Every November, Sculpture by the Sea is on in Sydney. Running from Bondi to Tamarama beaches, it's probably the only chance many Sydneysiders have to view new sculpture works.

Vortex, by Charmaine Grace

Look on the web site for a few more images (under "Gallery Photo 2006") - I've also posted a second set here.

Unveiled, by Frank Malerba

World: Is art a fraud?

How would you feel if you found out your favourite art form was a fraud?

Okay, attention-grabber over. The story's more complex than that, of course.

Jackson Pollock's Blue Poles: "I've never liked it, although I've certainly tried". Is that how you feel about modern abstract impressionism in general? Of course, Blue Poles is the totem in Australia for this art movement, since it was bought by the government in 1973, causing predictable controversy.

The quote was from Michael Duffy in Saturday's SMH, about a 1999 book by Frances Stonor Saunders: Who Paid The Piper? The kernel of the story is that the CIA funded abstract impressionism, effectively making it fashionable, as a Cold War counter to Socialist Realism - a rather stodgy, retrogressive style. There's irony here in the right promoting a left-of-field movement, while the left was promoting the right.

This is not to deride the whole movement, but it makes you wonder about honesty in art, and art history. The article said the positive response to the book suggested the thesis was generally accepted by "those in a position to know". Tom Braden, who variously worked for the CIA and Museum of Modern Art said "it had to be done covertly... it would have been turned down if it had been put to a vote in a democracy".

What's you're reaction to this?

• "A major work of investigative history" - Edward Said
• "the contemptuous, leftist perspective" - Peter Coleman [editor of the rightwing Quadrant]
• "There had to be a reason why something so infantile could become so celebrated" - Michael Fitzjames, painter.

Are you getting schadenfreude-like feelings of triumphalism over the cutdown of abstract impressionism? Are you indignant at any questioning of the integrity of any art? Why would CIA funding make it fraudulent per se? What is valid art, and what is not valid art? Is either of critical or mass acceptance crucial? What is art?