Showing posts with label cancer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cancer. Show all posts

Tuesday, 2 June 2020

The 2018 Archibald Prize - Part Four

Further to previous postshere is the fourth 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.

Treatment, day 49 (sorbolene soak) - Nicholas Harding

In a room full of colourful portraits, the stark black-and-white rendering of this one, really stands out. It's craggy and straightforward at first glance, but a close inspection reveals lines and years of knowledge and expression. The self-portrait was made after the artist was diagnosed with cancer at the base of his tongue. He commenced seven weeks of treatment at Lifehouse, keeping a visual journal to record the process. After 35 sessions of radiation and seven doses of chemotherapy, his treatment finished on day 49. At the time of the exhibition, he was cancer-free.
"One of the compounding side effects of the radiation is the burning of the skin, so when my neck was blistered and bleeding it would be treated with sorbolene, Flamazine cream and ice-cold wet bandage wraps. On the last day of treatment I took a selfie on my iPhone during one of these regular sorbolene soaks and later did a drawing from it, which I used for this self-portrait. Once the colour was removed, it achieved the stark quality I was after."
Herb and Flan by Julian Meagher

There is something fabulously flamboyant about this portrait. The presence of the galah lightens what might otherwise be a sombre palette with dark greys and blues. The subject has piercing blue eyes and a gaze that is full of inquisitive intelligence and confidence.  This is Richard Flanagan, a man whose novels have received numerous honours and awards (including the Commonwealth Writer's Prize in 2002 for Gould's Book of Fish and the Man Booker Prize in 2014 for The Narrow Road to the Deep North). 
"He is one of my favourite novelists but it is his writing and interviews on literature, the environment, art and politics that particularly make him one of Australia's most important voices. Herb, Richard's writing partner, was pretty insistent that he be included in the painting."
Self Portrait by Amanda Davies

I knew nothing at all about this person, but I liked the shiny forehead and the natural skin without enhancements or embellishments - it struck me as a stark, almost communist-style depiction where modern expressions of beauty were to be discouraged, as the inner personality shone through. It turns out that this is a recent self-portrait in a new series of figurative paintings 'addressing the theme of decay and remedy, where the relationship between body, mind and emotion is heightened'.
"In response to a story where an elderly woman mistakenly applied toothpaste to her face instead of moisturiser, I put toothpaste on my face and washed it off numerous times. Toothpaste is very astringent. It gets in your eyes and it stings. Taking hundreds of self-timer photos, I felt numb, exhausted, and relieved afterwards. This self-portrait is drawn from the en of that process and reveals a shifting emotional state between distress and relief.

"I set up situations in my studio that engage the tradition of theatricality in painting - performance being part of the process in developing my work. Here the figure lies horizontally - the position for sleeping, dreaming, healing and dying - yet the painting is exhibited vertically, eliciting a sense of disorientation.

"At the point of decay, the perceived boundaries of the body dissolve ad our sense of self can shrink or expand, allowing us to experience the edge of the self as elastic."
Self-portrait after George Lambert by Yvette Coppersmith

I'm including this one not because I like it (it's fine but doesn't particularly appeal to me) but because it won the Archibald Prize, showing how much (or, rather, little) I know about art. To me, the posture is unnatural, the subject a little bland (with that trout pout beloved of insipid teenagers in selfies, thinking cheekbones are a substitute for personality), and the focal point seems to be the golden curtains behind the subject, rather than the subject itself.  Apparently I am wrong.

The artist, Yvette Coppersmith, has had five previous entries into the Archibald Prize and she is drawn to the self-portrait because, 'it allows me to work from life, with intense absorption in the painting process'. Her theme is female empowerment and she originally wanted to paint Jacinda Ardern, the Prime Minister of New Zealand. I believe the rationale is more impressive than the painting.
"Ardern wasn't available but I thought I might channel something of her in my self-portrait... I had several reasons for asking Jacinda Ardern, but through her role she expands what an image of a young woman can signify - inspiring others to think beyond any perceived limits of their own image in relation to the contemporary political landscape. 

"[George Lambert's] style was academic, yet he supported the avant-garde in Australia and painted portraits of his artistic contemporaries Thea Proctor and Hera Roberts - both independent, self-possessed style makers at a time of burgeoning female empowerment. In referencing George Lambert's style, it's like an outfit slipped on, creating a fixed image of an ever-changing self."
Guy by Ann Middleton

Or perhaps I am in tune with the public after all, because this portrait of Guy Pearce by Ann Middleton won the People's Choice Award. And I like it a lot too. It is a familiar face, but I think the artist captures his expression with all its quirky sensitivity, intelligence and sense of fun. Perhaps it is the blank background which draws me in to focus purely on him; perhaps it is the light which illuminates half of his face, recalling the comedy/ tragedy theatre masks; perhaps it is his naked torso indicating a certain vulnerability; whatever it is, I find this portrait deeply affecting and extremely personal.
"I see profound depth of emotion and some sadness in Guy's eyes, however, his gaze is direct and bold. It was this curious melding of uncompromising determination and a certain boyish sweetness that led me to ask if I could paint his portrait. 

"My portrait of Guy was inspired by early photographic portraits of Indigenous people using tintype photography, the otherworldly translucency of skin it imparts and the compelling directness of an unselfconscious gaze.

I painted Guy in the natural light of my studio. One side of his face is in deep shadow. Obscure and mysterious, it speaks of hidden difficult times. The other side is brilliantly lit. It is an uncompromising light, honest and unflinching. This extreme tonality enabled me to explore Guy's chameleon nature and his personal awareness of the light and dark within that makes him both an extraordinary actor and a kind, funny and unassuming bloke."
Insert headline here by Amani Haydar

Initially the bold print, bright colours, and wonky expression make this appear to be a child's drawing or collage which seems fun and frivolous. Closer inspection, however, reveals the subject has a determined focus and that she is holding an image of a woman holding an image. It has a surreal Russian Doll effect suggesting a mysterious background. The fact that the picture within the picture is a black and white photograph also hints at some sort of reportage or story-telling. I did not know who this person was, but I wanted to. I learned that this is a self-portrait in which the artist holds a photograph of her mother, who holds a photograph of her own mother.
"When my mum was murdered in her home by my abusive father on 30 March 2015, some media outlets circulated a Fairfax photo taken in 2006 while my mum was grieving the death of her own mother, who was killed in an Israeli airstrike while fleeing the southern villages of Lebanon. 

"I incorporated the photo, which I printed straight off the internet (you have to pay for a proper print) as a way of reclaiming my story from the headlines. By painting a self-portrait, I was able to reinstate its personal significance to me.

"I also saw it as an opportunity to challenge assumptions that women victims of crime are helpless, weak or subservient. I have used vibrant colour to convey a sense of hope, while the repetition of patterns echoes the repetition of trauma in my life, but also draws on the type of art found in mosques, which for me symbolises faith, survival and regrowth."

Friday, 26 April 2013

Friday Five: Figurative Flowers

5 Emblematic Blooms:

Remembrance poppies at the Australian War Memorial

  1. Poppy – The symbol of sleep, peace and death. Sleep because of the opium extracted from them and death because of their blood-red colour. Memorable images include the magical poppy field in L. Frank Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz in which Dorothy are chums are almost lulled to eternal sleep, and the blood red blooms on Flanders’ fields that recall more than a million sacrifices. Lest we forget.
  2. Red Rose – UK Labour Party; House of Lancaster; England Rugby; socialism; romantic love – combined with the white rose of York to become the Tudor Rose and national flower of England. With its combination of powerful scent, dramatic beauty and viscous thorns, it is beloved of playwrights and poets form Shakespeare and Robert Burns to Gertrude Stein and Poison.
  3. Daffodil – Wales and the Cancer Society. As daffodils are part of the narcissus family, they also represent vanity. Appearing at spring in the Northern hemisphere, the yellow daffodil is associated with new beginnings and particularly Easter (the German word for daffodil is ‘Osterglocke’, meaning Easter bell). Thanks to William Wordsworth’s (in)famous poem, it also represents The Lake District for many.
  4. Sunflower – Honesty; Happiness; Faith; Adoration; Vegan Society; Cancer Support – individually they are remarkable and together they are glorious. From the fields of gold the cyclists ride past in the Tour de France to Van Gogh’s crazy brilliant blooms or Ai Weiwei’s Tate/Unliever-commissioned sculpture of ten tonnes of porcelain seed husks, they have stunning visual impact. It was thought that the sunflower (girasol) turns its head to follow the sun until sixteenth-century romance-busting botanist John Gerard pointed out this was only true of the immature buds but the adult plants grew out of it. Despite that, this is still a beautiful flower quote from the film Calendar Girls:
    "The flowers of Yorkshire are like the women of Yorkshire. Every stage of their growth has its own beauty, but the last phase is always the most glorious. Then very quickly they all go to seed. Which makes it ironic my favourite flower isn't even indigenous to the British Isles, let alone Yorkshire. I don't think there's anything on this planet that more trumpets life that the sunflower. For me that's because of the reason behind its name. Not because it looks like the sun but because it follows the sun. During the course of the day, the head tracks the journey of the sun across the sky. A satellite dish for sunshine. Wherever light is, no matter how weak, these flowers will find it. And that's such an admirable thing. And such a lesson in life."
  5. Forget-me-Not – True love; Faithfulness; Remembrance; Freemasonry; Alzheimer’s Association – Henry IV adopted the flower as a symbol of his exile in 1398. It grows madly in English spring gardens and woodlands, particularly by riverbanks as it prefers moist habitats and can tolerate partial sun and shade. I love the delicate little blooms and the subtle fragrance which develops in the evenings although they have little scent during the day, and I incorporated it into my bridal bouquet.

Friday, 24 December 2010

Christmas values


For the past couple of weeks I have been sick with worry for a good friend of mine who has just been diagnosed with cancer. He is generally as solid and dependable as an oak and now he needs all his strength to counter this vicious disease, which is wrapping itself around his internal organs like poison ivy. When terrible things like this happen to people we love, naturally we question our faith and our values.

This time of year is full of added pressure. We are bombarded with messages of a million things we ‘must’ do: buy the presents; tidy the house; deck the halls; prepare the dinner; ice the cake; wrap the presents; dress the tree; write the cards; finish all the jobs at work; send out the emails; clean the windows; sort out the cupboards; dust off the deckchairs… the list is endless.

Looking at one of my dearest friends lying in his hospital bed I realised that none of that matters at all. I know that the doctors, nurses and surgeons are all doing the best they can for him so in many ways it is the best place for him to be. But it’s full of sick people. And he needs to feel invigorated. His many visitors bring him love and support, but they can’t bring him fresh sea-air and pounding waves; it’s that which makes me feel alive.

So I walked on the beach and I thought of all the people I love and care about, and prayed that he’ll be back out soon. I haven’t done half of the things we are 'meant' to do at Christmas, but I shall sing some carols and think of my loved ones and try to spread whatever happiness I can. At the risk of sounding like some ghastly old hippy; Merry Christmas, and love and peace to all.

Friday, 28 August 2009

Daffodil Day


Today is daffodil day. I don’t know if that is an official term but today volunteers from the Cancer Society of New Zealand are out and about on the streets collecting money for research into this most pernicious disease.

The website assures us that 88% of money collected “goes towards vital scientific research into the causes and treatments for all types of cancer, as well as providing a wide range of support services, information, health promotion and education programmes to reduce cancer risk, awareness campaigns and practical support for people affected by cancer.”

The daffodil with its spring connotations and cheerful yellow bloom is the symbol of the Cancer Society and when you donate money you are offered a plastic one to pin to your clothes or a sticker.

The streets of Wellington are grim and grey today but there are bright yellow spots of hope tied to lampposts and blossoming on sombre civil service suits. The ladies I spoke to were eating muffins that had been donated to them by a café across the road. Apparently cancer affects one in three New Zealanders. We cannot be unmoved.

If you can’t find a ‘daffodil seller’ – and they’re pretty easy to spot – you can also
donate through the Cancer Society of New Zealand website. I urge you to wear your daffodil with pride and help to battle this disease, which has such devastating consequences.