Wednesday 6 May 2020

The 2018 Archibald Prize - Part Two

Further to a previous post, here is the second installment in my visit last year to see the touring Archibald Prize at the marvellous Orange Regional Art Gallery. The Archibald Prize is awarded annually to the best portrait 'preferentially of some man or woman distinguished in art, letters, science or politics, painted by any artist resident in Australia.' Often I don't know the subject, so I really enjoy finding out about the people as much as I appreciate the artwork itself.
Don by Mirra Whale
It was the colours in this portrait that caught my eye as they remind me of those 3D paintings or  that have fuzzy flashes of red and blue around the image to make it stand out when one dons special glasses. I had no idea who the subject is, but apparently he is the Honourable Don Harwin, the New South Wales Minister for Resources, the Minister for Energy and Utilities, and the Minister for Arts. The artist claims to be impressed with his "passion, curiosity and dedication to the arts."
"Painting Don, it became very evident that politics is never black or white. In some respects he stands in contrast to the seemingly conservative government he represents. For his portrait, I decided to take this notion further. Using a traditional portrait background, I applied colour to reflect not only his personality but his dynamic contribution to the arts."
Elisabeth Cummings in her studio at Wedderburn 1974 and 2018 by Noel Thurgate 
I really enjoy the kind and generous expression on this woman's face. I presume she is an artist because of the background to the portrait, and I like to see this in context - one should appreciate an artist at work as well as by their output. She appears confident and calm in her ability; her hands have seen much work and knowledge. The way in which the artist has incorporated the wood and other materials into his picture indicate that these have a specific relevance to the subject. I read that he was inspired by a 1974 photo of a young Elisabeth, aged 40, standing beside a tree trunk admiring the construction of her house/ studio in which she would make all the works for a future exhibition.
"Entering the studio, ideas and images immediately tumbled into place. The tree in the 1974 photo is the centre post supporting the roof. The very fabric of the building - stone, clay and wood - reflects the rich, earthy, materiality always evident in Elisabeth's palette. Numerous skylights reveal glimpses of trees and sky, and flood the interior with top-light, while Elisabeth quietly, calmly gets on with it, looking forward to starting the next painting."
The Letter - I really wanted to paint Germaine Greer but she said 'no' (self-portrait) by Stephanie Monteith
The purple and orange hues are exotic and the neat collection of oranges contrasts with the busy pattern of the tablecloth - it is an arresting blend of still-life and portraiture, with fruit, drink and flowers foregrounding the profiled figure. I became even more interested when I read that the artist wanted to paint Germaine Greer whom "I admire for many reasons".
"I made some requests and it became clear that it was unlikely to happen. And so, among other things, this painting is a metaphor for that stereotypical Archibald experience - the search for a desirable sitter... 
"I didn't want to paint myself for the Archibald but I was a convenient, available sitter. I prefer to work directly from life rather than photographs, and the time needed for this can be difficult for other people. To paint myself in profile like this required an arrangement of mirrors reflecting one another."
Uncle Ron Kennedy by Blak Douglas
What stands out to me here are the colours of the Aboriginal flag, and the instant recognition that this is an indigenous artist and subject. The image implies strata (in the background) and contours (in the hat) reflecting the connection to land. The rich reds and yellows contrast with the monochrome black and white to tell a story of appropriation and native representation. It did not surprise me, therefore, to learn that the subject is 'a celebrated Wiradjuri artist, renowned for his naive-style depictions of his mission upbringing'.
"Given Roy's past practice as an etching printmaker, I wished to honour this by depicting him in monotone. This is completely new to me and was much like attempting to speak a foreign language. Metaphorically though, I saw a spiritual man who now lives a lifestyle that is the polar opposite of his mission upbringing. Aesthetically, I've used a cracked acrylic surface - my trademark - around his face in the ochre colours of the earth. This represents the hardness of a man forged from an ancient past whilst living within a fractured present."
Self-portrait with studio wife by Del Kathryn Barton
This is just bonkers with swirling textures, busy colours and the inclusion of a pet. The peculiar perspective is dreamlike and the foreground focus on the hands implies a lambent creativity. The similarity of the slightly unfocused gaze of human and animal indicates a deep and supportive connection between them, which is separated from the viewer. I read that Del Kathryn Baton has won the Archibald Prize twice before and this is her fifth time as a finalist. She began painting this self-portrait halfway through her mother's two-year battle with terminal cancer, and the 'studio wife' in question is her French bulldog, Cherry Bomb.
"With my fierce little Cherry-Bomb-studio-wife keeping a look-out on my shoulder, I was taken aback when finishing the work by how child-like I look. Little-Del-the-daughter is very present.
"I completed the painting four months after Mum's death. My hands open in a state of uncertainty and loss. A single finger touches a giant leaf. This leaf, vibrating the life energy of the universe, is my departed mother.
"Cherry-Bomb is witness to and defender of my creative life. I remain forever grateful for her play-like-it's-the-end-of-the-world presence in my life, especially at a time of indescribable loss. Her deep eye contact is one of the most healing elements in my journey with grief."
Courtney Barnett and her weapon of choice by Melissa Grisancich
I like Courtney Barnett a lot; I like her music and her attitude.The first time I ever saw her, she was singing a duet with Billy Bragg (a cover of Sunday Morning by The Velvet Underground) and that was enough for me - my affection was assured. Her youthful energy is embodied by the childlike print of the wall behind her, while she cradles the guitar with a passion that her singer's cynical expression both reflects and refutes. She and the artist are friends; Gisancich writes,
"I'm a big fan of her music with its unique mix of rock, folk, indie and grunge. I also love her guitar playing, and see her as a strong representative of the positive shift happening for women in Australian music today. 
"Courtney was happy to sit, quietly playing a tune and looking round the room as if I wasn't there. She had a casual warmth about her that I wanted to capture. Her music and witty lyrics are quite colourful, so I have used a lot of colour. The background is inspired by 1930s Australian art-deco patterns, which often feature in my work." 

Sunday 3 May 2020

What is Truth? - True History of the Kelly Gang


True History of the Kelly Gang by Peter Carey
University of Queensland Press
Pp. 400

Peter Carey is often touted as Australia’s literary representative, so his take on one of its biggest questionable icons is bound to be interesting and exciting. The book purports to be written by Ned Kelly in thirteen parcels of stained and dog-eared papers, and it includes excerpts from newspapers and transcripts of conversations. Towards the end of the novel, the printer, Thomas Curnow, purportedly says, “What is it about us Australians, eh? What is wrong with us? Do we not have a Jefferson? A Disraeli? Might not we find someone better to admire than a horse-thief and a murderer? Must we always make such an embarrassing spectacle of ourselves?” This is the question which Carey address in his ‘true’ history.

The beginning contains accounts of Ned’s upbringing, schooling, interactions with the police, his father’s brutality (beatings with the belt and drunken rages), and his mother’s (Ellen) subsequent suitors, one of whom is Bill Frost (whom Ned later shoots. Life was hard and brutal with death and violence all around. His uncle tried to burn their house down after being rejected by Ellen, and he was sentenced to hang. Ned was a Catholic amongst mainly Protestants; the family was poor and anti-establishment so they were picked upon and bullied in “a district of English snobs”.

It is written in a sort of vernacular, but the narrator is very erudite and falsely descriptive. There is no swearing; ‘bastards’ is redacted and other words are substituted with “adjectival”. His use of metaphor is rich and, while the structure is unrealistic for a poorly educated farm boy, the vocabulary is credible. “The memory of the policeman’s words lay inside me like the egg of a liver fluke and while I went about my growing up this slander wormed deeper and deeper into my heart and there grew fat.” His similes enrich the novel and raise it above the monotonous account it might otherwise have been, and he employs pathetic fallacy in a way that would make Thomas Hardy proud.


Peter Carey paints Ned as a rural lad who wants nothing more than to support his family, farm the land and breed horses, but his plans are thwarted by perceived persecution and his mother’s men. The nature of the relationship between Ned and his mother, Ellen, has long been a topic of historical debate. Ned is the oldest son with a primitive love for his family and a macho need to protect them. He cares for the family, although he doesn’t notice that his sister has grown into a young woman, and he is mainly concerned for his mother, rushing to defend her and fighting over her reputation. 

He loves his mother – some say to an unseemly extent – although she sells him into apprenticeship with Harry Power, and seeks out the company of other men. Ned takes up with Mary Hearn, in a supposedly touching but very plain fashion, and introduces her to his mother although he claims not to know that his mother and his girlfriend share a lover (George King) who has made both of them pregnant.


Mary Hearn pleads for Ned to leave Australia with her and their child for their safety, but obviously he doesn’t. Her lines are very similar to those spoken by Etta Place in the film, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, suggesting a very limited view of roles for women in stories of legend. Ellen, however, has a rebellious spirit (the spade is her favoured weapon), and she tells stories of the Irish legends, heroes and great women.

Ned holds some belief in fairy stories of banshees, curses and bad luck, but also understands the realities and corruption of the world. The police slander his family; he is angry and hungry and carries within “that flame the government of England lights in a poor man’s guts every time they make him wear the convicts irons.” He dislikes talk of colonials not being able to farm properly, and despite his Irish heritage, he considers himself Australian. In Peter Carey’s telling, he becomes one of the original founders, and claims he and his ilk were formed by the harsh treatment they received.


Carey includes all the details of the legend in his ‘history’. He mentions the undertakers, leather cords specifically created for the purpose of binding a body to horseback, which were used as evidence that the policemen had come to the Kelly gang with the intention of killing them. He also devotes pages to the creation of the iconic suits of ‘armour’. In 1879 Ned Kelly dictated an 8,000 word manifesto to Joe Byrne, known as the Jerilderie Letter, in which he tried to justify his crimes. Intended for publication, it was instead handed in to the police. Carey questions the making of the legend – was Kelly seeking fame, justice or acknowledgement? There is a great legend woven around Ned Kelly, and although Peter Carey suggests he will clarify it with his ‘true history’, he gleefully obfuscates even further.