Art

After 18 months of inking...the masterpiece is almost finished. It started out small but snowballed, taking on a life of its own. I woke up one day and realised that it was now halfway down my back.

Enough! I cried. Just finish the damn thing!

I present to you the unfinished artwork depicting the Japanese legend of the Death Stone:

Crossing the border for the French

Last Saturday, the Good Doctor and I went to the Capital to view, amongst the regular dreary attractions, the works of the Parisian Masters at the National Gallery of Australia.
The paintings were decidedly Post-Impressionist, determinedly Symbolic and inherently Divisionism...ish. They were....excellent as you would expect world class art to be. The highlights were, of course, those famous pieces that are recognisable to event he most uneducated and ill-informed plebeian (which is why I knew of them...).
Van Gogh (which sounds like one clearing phlegm from their throat) stole the show with his Starry Night and self portrait, but we were equally impressed by a number of pieces by Roussel and Denis that were precursors to the Art Nouveau style (inspired by Ukiyo-e)

 

But art is art...and that was only part of the experience. We arrived on Saturday afternoon and found that there was a significant line of people waiting to see the exhibition. It looked far too long to join and still expect to see a single Cezanne before the Gallery closed so we bought our tickets for Sunday instead.

"Why is the queue so long?"

"Because of the long weekend."

"It's a long weekend?"

"Where are you from?"

"Sydney."

"It's a public holiday on Monday for everywhere else but NSW."

Lesson 1 learnt. Always check before you plan your trip...A: is it a public holiday where you are going, and B: is it school holidays where you are going.

Having learnt our lesson well, we decided that we would arrive early before the Gallery opened on Sunday so that the time spent in the queue would be shorter. If they only let in 500 people at a time...the line will move faster in the morning because the exhibition won't already be filled with 500 people. That was our cunning logic...cunning....like a fox.

We left for our $99 special secret LastMinute.com hotel room to find that whilst we were at the NGA, a function had started at our hotel, and all the parking was full. I was livid...the Good Doctor a little less so. I had the strange idea that if I had paid for a hotel room to stay overnight....I should have a right to park on premises..not three blocks away because some slack jawed rural bint was having her 21st birthday or worse, a wedding reception, in our hotel.

So I furiously parked our car three blocks away and sought refuge in a bottle of light beer (I was driving after all). The pizza and warm oily nuts calmed me somewhat and by the time we walked back to the hotel I was resigned to the fact that it was a pretty shitty hotel and this is what one should naturally expect from Canberra. The used dinner plates left out in the corriders of our floor only confirmed this when stumbling out the door at god awful o'clock in the morning they were still there.

We did however, learn something that night. We don't really like Goth clubs anymore with their monotonous and boring post-industrial/EBM/Noise/I-installed-fruity-loops-on-my-computer/anyone-can-be-a-DJ-with-a-premixed-cd music, and the people wearing plastic hair and the entire Lip Service catalogue all at once...

I mean...there used to be some sort of style, effort and interesting music played at clubs....oh well...kids these days eh what?

We arrived the next morning at 9 am (for a 10 am opening) and joined the already considerably long queue. As we waited the line grew, and grew, and grew until it stretched around itself twice.

We waited...

and waited...

and waited...

...until we finally stepped into the gallery at 11:45 am.

It was a nice exhibition.

I could say more about it..but unfortunately it was just nice. The paintings where there, but there was no explanation to the order. The audio tour did not provide any insight into the works (an awful lot of time was spent describing the painting as though we were physically unable to see it in front of us - although there was one blind person there with their guide dog) and at the end we were confronted with Starry night PVC aprons (flashbacks to the previous nights Goth club) and Cezanne pencil sharpeners.

We fled. 

Our day of queues did not end there gentle reader. Oh no. Not by any mark.

Just outside of Goulburn we hit another queue that crawled....

...and crawled..

..and crawled through 20 kilometres of traffic winding it's way past the site of a rather banal and un-fatal accident between a truck and a car.

Our 3 hour trip back home took exactly 6. 

I do however feel decidedly British after our weekend experience. We would have only had to complain more and eat chips to have the total experience.

A thought for next time.

The Art Gallery of South Australia

This weekend past we were fortunate to be in the environs of Adelaide for the Adelaide Fringe Festival. As part of this weekend away we visited the quaint (read; small but nice) Art Gallery of South Australia. Amongst its collections were a number of surprise pieces...masters of both European and Australian art that we did not expect to see.

In particular, we were impressed by the following pieces of Australian art....art that not only illustrates so effectively the Australia that we know...but marked specific moments in the Australian cultural zeitgeist.

 

A break away! by Tom Roberts 1891 

This piece is prominent in the memory of my youth as I spent rainy days poring over my mother's art history books. Not only did it have an impact on my impressionable young mind, but it also made an impact on Australia as it gave a visual identity to a country heading towards Federation. Amongst the juxtaposition of action and serenity, it provided a symbolic depiction of our transition from European settlers to a modern nation. This image has always been significant to me in the portrayal of our landscape; the sun bleached trees, dry heat and dust that typified the environs I grew up in.

Evening Shadows, a backwater of the Murray, South Australia. by H J Johnstone 1880

I had not seen this piece until the weekend but was very impressed. The subtle wash of light and the serene stillness are such a contrast to the reality of  our landscape that this image constantly jars at my cultural identity. This is the Australia I wish I was in...the quiet, cool and peaceful landscape of majestic Eucalyptus set under a gentle sky. So authentic and yet so fake...this image was painted from a photograph in Europe...our bold and harsh sun kissed sky muted to a pale English summer evening. Even the stillness is unnatural, an artifact of the medium from which the image was transferred abroad.

The art gallery has a few other astounding pieces including a Wright of Derby, a Vernet and supposedly (according to their website) a Waterhouse, Renoir and a Tiffany which we didn't find on the day.

Next weekend we are off to Canberra and the National Art Gallery to see the French Masters before they leave our shores.