Friday Five (Ten): Films from the First Half of the Year

This post is very late, I know. I could say I'm busy, but that's not really an excuse, because, isn't everyone? So, as we're meant to focus on positives rather than constantly criticising ourselves and others, let me just say, thanks for your understanding.

These are the top ten (bonus five) films that I have seen this year, so far, in alphabetical order.

1. Aurora - somewhat formulaic but fun Finnish romantic drama for a Friday night.
2. Bauhaus Spirit: 100 Years of Bauhaus - an interesting documentary that explains that the Bauhaus spirit is 'art is the implementation of the harmony between people and matter'. It considers people not in terms of their spirituality but as spacial objects. The movement has had a massive influence on art, design, fashion, architecture and urban planning. One could even say it has become a part of the zeitgeist.
3. Ben is Back - excellent central performances (Julia Roberts and Lucas Hedges) in a study of a mother's love for her son, no matter what.
4. Destroyer - I enjoyed it: the storytelling was good and the outcome was unexpected (by me, at least). Nicole Kidman does cold-dish-serving revenge very well. 





5. Free Solo - A documentary about a narcissistic free climber (bordering on psychopath), with a very unusual attitude to relationships, but a unarguable approach to risk vs reward. Shot by his friends (one wonders how he has any) with simply stunning scenery.
6. If Beale Street Could Talk - Quite simply beautiful; utterly life-affirming against all odds.
7. Mary Poppins Returns - This is odd. It's exactly the same as the original but the songs have different words. The story arc, the characters, the emotional manipulation and the scenes are almost identical, but with slight differences that make it feel like a dream. It's unsettling.
8. The Reports on Sarah and Saleem - "If the message of the film was “Having an affair is probably not a great idea”, its delivery could be perceived as being somewhat heavy-handed. It was bloody good though." - quoted from my CGB (Cinema-Going Buddy)
9. Rocketman - Excellent, moving, and honest depiction of addiction and loneliness despite fame and riches. I don't particularly like Elton John's music but it is spectacular in this film. The acting and direction is superb.
10. Us - Proper bonkers; gripping and good with stuff to think about and a few decent scares. 

Friday Five: Strong Female Lead

Last night I went to see a show at Smith's Alternative. It was called Strong Female Lead and it featured six acts of fabulous female talent. The atmosphere was warm, welcoming and overwhelmingly supportive. Comperes Lou Maconachie and Amy Crawford encouraged us all to turn to the person next to us and pay them a compliment. As I was seated next to the bright, vibrant, intelligent and compassionate Purple Patch, this was not a hardship. It was, in fact, a wonderful way to start the evening and celebrated the supportive side of performance. It must also be mentioned that (although the audience was predominantly female), there were men in attendance too, and they were equally generous: not all men are threatened by strong women.

1. Chris Ryan kicks off proceedings with a great stand-up comedic set. She has a confident and likable presence, drawing us into her world and telling stories of family, friendships, and what she would like to do when she grows up. She may be ageing gracefully - she admits to being 'openly gray' - but she doesn't consider herself to be an 'adult' yet. Her riff on all the expectations levelled at women - from appearance to empathy; from exercise to social conscience; from sexual experimentation to professional development - is clever, cutting and concise. Imagine an ironic female version of Renton's 'Choose Life' speech from Trainspotting and you're halfway there.
2. Ruth and Friends - Ruth Oettle is the Ruth in question, and she presents a genre-challenging rap about science which manages to be informative as well as entertaining. She's good at including her audience and adapting her material, introducing verses specific to the venue. Her casual laconic style masks the artifice behind the art, and she makes everything look effortless. She invites her friends to the stage and sits with them to sing an original love song, I Love You to Launceston and Back, which is utterly charming. Her smile is infectious and the trio make you want to sing along even though you don't know the words yet. It's like woke folk music, but without the wankery that implies.
3. Liz St Clair Long performs a piece by local playwright Harriet Elvin, Shopping for Underwear. It’s an age-old story where a retired schoolteacher from England makes a profound discovery about herself when she goes into an Adelaide department store. Liz is a consummate actor and she lights up every stage she graces in a variety of roles. She flexes her acting muscles displaying a range of expression, and seeing her own the space with confidence and comedy is an absolute treat.
4. Ali Clinch presents 'Mothering Father', a one-woman show that she has written about extremely personal experiences. Using a sparse soundscape and projected images, she shares the story of her particular circle of life, celebrating birth while dealing with palliative care and grief. It is a familiar female story, as women bear the weight of caring for the young and elderly family members, often at the same time. Her honesty and candour make the scene powerfully touching and the fact that it doesn't seem self-indulgent is due entirely to her generosity of performance.
5. Virginia's Wolf are a trio who met while studying at the Canberra School of Music. Caley Callahan (vocals), Monica Lindemann (drums) and Tammy Pinto (guitar) seem to have disparate presentation styles, but they clearly all love music and they are keen to share this passion. Their energy is friendly rather than furious, and their timing is tight. It's enjoyable to hear them run through a series of covers, including the perennial favourite, Creep, which brings appreciative cheers from the audience when Callahan hits all the right notes of anguish and frustration. They do belong here.
6. Helen Way is different, as in original. She stands out from a crowd with her almost interrogatory approach and informative content. She's also a confident piano player, and her demonstration of why Beethoven's 'Fur Elise' is a terrible piece of music is brilliant. Her combination of musical and comedy talent is in a similar vein to Tim Minchin or Bill Bailey. I will never hear this piece in quite the same light again, but I will probably laugh whenever I hear it cranking out of an ice-cream van.

Strong Female Leads - photo by Lightbulb Improv

Friday Five : The Evolving Book Pile

At the beginning of the year I took a picture of the pile of books on my bedside table. By the end of year, I expect I shall still have a pile of books, but I would like them to be different ones. This is the six-monthly record of the evolving nature of that pile.

Bedside book pile January 2019

In January I read My Absolute Darling by Gabriel Tallent, The Sympathizer by Viet Thanh Nguyen, and All in the Timing by David Ives from my pile. I picked up the former while in Powell's City of Books in Portland. I was considering reading it over Christmas, but Christmas is supposed to be cheery and this book is anything but, so I waited until afterwards to embark upon it. A fourteen-year-old girl grows up dealing with nature and approaching adulthood through adventure and grit; like a female version of Huckleberry Finn with an added whack of abuse that is agonising to read. Happy New Year! 

The Symapthizer was lent to me by a friend who claimed the prose is beautiful. He's right. Mind you, it won the 2016 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction, so he's not alone in thinking that. It covers a range of genres from espionage thriller to darkly comic political commentary, and, because it deals with the Americanization of the Vietnam War, it nods somewhat vigorously towards Graham Greene. 

David Ives' All in the Timing is a collection of fourteen short plays set in surreal situations. Overlapping scenes, non-linear time, multi-faceted characters, literary allusions and fluid language make these a thoroughly entertaining cerebral challenge. David Ives is a comic genius who has put the play back into playwright. 

I also read Wicked Sisters by Alma de Groen, which was not in the pile. I am part of a committee which is producing this fantastic play in a couple of months in which four women meet up after the death of one of their husband's and learn more about him and themselves in the space of a wine-fueled evening than they ever knew or wanted to know.

Books read from pile: 3/11

Bedside book pile February 2019

In this month I read The Overstory by Richard Powers from the pile, and several others that weren't in it. The Overstory was shortlisted for the 2018 Man Booker Prize - it considers the narrative of life above ground, while maintaining that everything is connected beneath it. There are diatribes upon trees; growth; concentric circles; timelines; length of time taken to replace and regenerate; the fact that we have missed our opportunity and are now all doomed.

I also read The Mars Room by Rachel Kushner, which was similarly shortlisted - set in a women's prison and told in the first person through flashbacks, it details the lives of the inmates with a combination of mind-numbing boredom and bone-crunching brutality. We learn that these women are largely incarcerated due to poor choices made in the face of so few opportunities.

In keeping with the theme I read the winner of the 2017 Man Booker International Prize, A Horse Walks into a Barby David Grossman (translated by Jessica Cohen). It is a very short but very complex novella about a comedian who falls apart on stage. It is set in Israel and packed with lines that are certain to offend, but it presents a clever comparison between the individual and society, and how disease spreads from within to become all-consuming. 

The plays I read were Melancholy Play by Sarah Ruhl, which is admirably bonkers and addresses the issue of why we find sadness so attractive, and A Doll's House Part 2 by Lucas Hnath. I've never been a fan of people penning sequels to the works of others, but I have been asked to audition for this play, so I thought I should at least read it. I like the ideas and concepts about the need for equality in all things, but I'm yet to be convinced of its necessity.

Books read from pile: 4/14

Bedside book pile March 2019

March's reading was quite varied and included a few from the pile. Oscar Wilde's The Happy Prince, the Selfish Giant and Other Stories is full of tales of practical characters in fairy-tale situations where beauty is admired above all, which leads to bitterness and anger when youth fades. I read it as a child and dug it out again after seeing both the film The Happy Prince and the play The Judas Kiss in the space of a couple of weeks.

Silent Women: Pioneers of Cinema edited by Melody Bridges and Cheryl Robson is a collection of essays about the women who helped to shape the film industry: actors; directors; editors; marketers; producers; managers - there is a lot of historical content explaining how roles were not so strictly delineated (many women had creative control but were not called directors) and how various movements in the past affected their status in Hollywood and elsewhere. More recently, 1995 was “the peak of female director hires in the United States. For the next twenty years, women directors would face stasis and decline in employment.” In fact, only 1.9% of directors of the top-grossing one hundred films of 2013 and 2014 were women.

I'm not usually a fan of stream-of-consciousness novels (James Joyce and Virginia Wood test my patience to the limit), but the self-obsessed need to express every tiny thought no matter how banal, fits the teenage narrator of Milkman perfectly. Anna Burns' 2018 Man Booker Prize winning novel is set in Northern Ireland during The Troubles, (or 'the problems') as they are called here: it is almost comical (in a Monty Python People’s Liberation Front sort of way), but people are killed for these minor details, so the humour is very dark.

Having heard nothing about Of Love and Techno by Anthony Marra, I got it out of the library on a whim due to the title and am so glad I did. The multi-layered story about censorship and art, which covers many decades, nine narrators and a variety of styles, remains absolutely engaging throughout. It is one of those weird coincidences that one of the characters mentioned in the novel is Russian poet Anna Akhmatova, the titular character of Alma de Groen's time-travelling The Woman in the Window, in which anything is possible in a world where quantum physics explains different dimensions.This play, with its dual narrative thread of repressing poetry in the past and future for political purposes will be produced by Canberra Repertory later in the year. It's a great story with powerful themes and plentiful scenes - I'm looking forward to seeing it.

Books read from pile: 8/16

Bedside book pile April 2019

In April a friend lent me Bridge of Clay by Markus Zusak, and I liked The Book Thief, so I gave this a go. Big mistake. And I mean big. Huge. It is clearly meant to be an homage to Homer but, while Homeric epithets may work in epic poetry; repetitive descriptors, sonorous syntax and quirky sentence length are tiresome in this novel. The novel revolves around five boys growing up in a rural suburb in New South Wales, and at almost 600 pages, it reads as if Zusak doesn’t know where to start, or finish, or even what to say.

The Essex Serpent by Sarah Perry was a lot more successful, in which (to copy from a Guardian review), 'An Essex village is terrorised by a winged leviathan in a Gothic Victorian tale crammed with incident, character and plot'. From the book pile I also began to read Every Last One by Anna Quindlen, until I realised that I already had, and so returned it to the library.

Books I read that never made it into the pile were The Mao Case by Qiu Xiaolong (the sixth outing for Chief Inspector Chen, who has to solve a crime in Shanghai and Beijing, which may or may not involve Chairman Mao), The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman (which I read to help a student at work with a school project), and The Long Take by Robin Robertson. The latter was another shortlisted nominee for the 2018 Man Booker Prize and is a poetic work of brilliance, historical worth and impermanence, as the noir narrative exposes the black and white cinematic qualities of city developments and PTSD.

I also read Escaped Alone by Caryl Churchill because she is my favourite playwright and I am trying to find plays with strong female characters - this has four of them (all over sixty) who chat in the back garden with dialogue charged with incident and heightened reality.

Books read from pile: 11/18

Bedside book pile May 2019

I persisted with Anna Quindlen in May and read Still Life with Bread Crumbs. It's fine; gentle and comforting although occasionally it can also be a touch clichéd. The novel deals with loneliness, depression, mental illness, and creative temperament. These are big issues, which are important to address, but the treatment at times feels a little superficial. In the Blood by Lisa Unger is a perfectly readable thriller about missing college friends and maniacal children that didn't make me lose any sleep.

You Say Potato: A Book about Accents by Ben Crystal and David Crystal, on the other hand, is an absolute ripper. The father and son combination, with an almost intimidating knowledge of acting, Shakespeare and linguistics between them, riff on the topic of accents: where they come from; how they evolve; how they are influenced by fashion and attitude; and how "we think people should be proud of their accent, whatever it is.”

Not in the pile (but I read them anyway), were How to Talk to Girls at Parties by Neil Gaiman (about which I feel rather conflicted), and Votes for Women and Other Plays edited by Susan Croft - still on the lookout for strong female roles, I thought I could do worse than approach this anthology of plays, sketches and monologues to celebrate the centenary of the Suffragettes. It is, indeed, fascinating in its range and scope. 

Books read from pile: 14/ 21

Bedside book pile June 2019

I managed to read two book from the bedside pile in June, and what wonderful ones to choose. Simon Armitage wreaks amazing magic with his translation of Gawain and the Green Knight, which is funny and modern, while adhering to the style and traditions of the original. I read it and then I read it again out loud, because the words are supremely satisfying and they cry out to be spoken.

I also read Bad Feminist by Roxanne Gay, which is a well-written series of essays about feminism and other things: from the traumas of fat camp to the triumphs of scrabble tournaments; good journalism and social responsibility; lessons learned from teaching and the guilt of enjoying reality TV and rap music. 

Because we went for a long weekend to the coast and because I like to read books set in similar habitats to my environs, I finished off the mid-year by reading The Alphabet of Light and Dark by Charlotte Wood (an over-wrought piece about a woman drawn back to her home town after her father - the lightkeeper's - death, which won the Australian Vogel Literary Award in 2002 and readds like it was written by a creative writing graduate. It was.) and Dance upon the Air by Nora Roberts (in which three women represent earth, fire and air, and have brown, red and blonde hair and combine their spiritual powers to defeat men and commune with nature and blah, blah, blah...).

Books read from pile: 16/24

Total number of books still in the pile from the beginning of the year: 3/11

Friday Five: Musical Biopics

We watched Rocketman last night. I thought the film was excellent, despite not really liking the music of Elton John. The more I think about it; the more I realise that the reason I like the film so much is because it is not a straightforward biopic, which follows a chronological line of singer - and then he did this; and then he did that - but which explores themes of isolation, loneliness, addiction, desire to be loved and need for self-discovery.

The narrative is explored through the music, and Dexter Fletcher's direction is sharp from the forlorn childhood experiences through the magical realism of the dances of character development to the drug-addled performance scenes and the clinical frustration of the rehab clinic. Both Taron Egerton as Elton John and Jamie Bell as Bernie Taupin are excellent in their studied depiction of emotion rather than mimicry of artists, and, with the supporting cast, they create a cracker of a film.

From this, I deduce that the music of the artist is not necessarily what draws me to a biopic; it is more in the way the story is presented and the acting of the participants. No, I have not seen Bohemian Rhapsody, because the reviews I've read and the trailers I've seen do not interest me - but I will, because it won the best male actor Oscar and was nominated for the best picture. Meanwhile, here are some other musical biopics I have enjoyed (and yes, there are more than five):

24 Hour Party People

12 Musical Biopics:

1. 8 Mile (2002) - A film about a young man pushing boundaries and finding his voice, literally and metaphorically; Curtis Hanson directs Eminem playing a version of himself with some tightly-choreographed rap battles and strategically-placed moments of tension and explosion.
2. 24 Hour Party People (2002) - Manchester: my music; my era; my city; my club. With writing by Frank Cotterell Boyce and direction by Michael Winterbottom, it is as sharp and cutting a depiction of the Manchester music scene as you could hope to see. Steve Coogan captures the essence of Tony Wilson with wry bitchiness and straight-to-camera monolgues. The film is as irreverent as it is incisive as it rides the music train from punk to New Wave to acid house and the rave scene. 
3. 20,000 Days on Earth (2014) - Not only a fascinating insight into the more-than-mildly-bonkers mind of Nick Cave, but also a discourse on the transformative power of performance. Confidently directed by Iain Forsyth and Jane Pollard, the fusion of documentary and drama with talking heads and concert footage is absolutely excellent. It won the directing award at the Sundance Film Festival; it deserved to win many more at many more.





4. Amadeus (1984) - I don't know a lot about Mozart, but I know what I like, and I like this film. It's got humour, passion, and pathos - all embodied in Peter Shaffer's adaptation of his original play and the art with which Tom Hulce (Mozart) and F. Murray Abraham (Salieri) enact the rivalry between the great composers. In an interview, Hulce claimed that he used John McEnroes's mood swings as a source of inspiration for his portrayal of Mozart's unpredictable genius. Director Milos Forman uses flashbacks, juxtapositions and anachronisms in a way that was revolutionary to me at the time (I was 13).  
5. La Bamba (1987) - The film that introduced the world to the star that shone so brightly as Lou Diamond Phillips, playing Ritchie Valens. Although I knew the music of Buddy Holly, Jackie Wilson, Eddie Cochran and The Big Bopper (thanks, mum and dad), I didn't really know anything about their background or their tragically shortened futures. Written and directed by Luis Valdez, the film is very straightforward and borders on bland, but it provides just the right level of detail for a teen learning about musical influences and has enough energy and emphasis on camaraderie to appeal to a young adult audience. 
6. Behind the Candelabra (2013) - one of my favourite films of the year. Yes, it really is as good as everyone says it is. Michael Douglas and Matt Damon are excellent. The flamboyance and excess are neatly captured with gentle ridicule but evident empathy, and confirm Liberace’s own conviction that ‘too much of a good thing is wonderful’.
7. Control (2007) - Great music; great acting (even from Samantha ‘yes, it-would-kill-me-to-smile' Morton); great directing; great city – what more can I say?
8. I'm Not There (2007) - Bob Dylan biopic with the shaggy haired folk-singer played by six different actors, to represent different aspects of his career and personality, most notably Cate Blanchett, whose performance earned her an Oscar nomination. Bits of it are inspired but it is also rather rambling and goes on too long.



9. The Pianist (2002) - Adrien Brody is spellbinding in this adaptation based on the autobiography of Polish-Jewish pianist, composer, and Holocaust-survivor, Wladyslaw Szpilman. The film was a co-production of France, the United Kingdom, Germany and Poland, and is directed by Roman Polanski in what may be his best ever work. It is harrowing, as is to be expected with its WWII setting where concentration camps and death are ever-present, but it is also hopeful and even peculiarly uplifting. And it feels authentic. Since Polanski wanted the film to be as realistic as possible, any scene showing Brody playing was actually his playing overdubbed by recordings performed by Olejniczak. In order for Brody's playing to look like it was at the level of Szpilman's, he spent many months prior to and during the filming practising so that his keystrokes on the piano would convince viewers that Brody himself was playing
10. Shine (1996) - Directed by Scott Hicks and starring Geoffrey Rush, this film examines that fine line between musical creativity and mental illness in the person of concert pianist, David Helfgott. The device of three actors playing the pianist at different times of his life emphasises the deep and lasting effects that parental pressures can cause. There are a few mawkish moments, but overall it is sensitively handled and touching. 
11. Sid & Nancy (1986) - In the spirit of full disclosure, I must admit that I love Gary Oldman. Even when he is playing the whiny, narcissistic, petulant punk-boy, Sid Vicious. The film, directed by Alex Cox, has a fantastic soundtrack (including Joe Strummer and The Pogues alongside The Sex Pistols, of course) and a spectacularly bleak outlook. And yet, from the filth and the futility, Oldman and Chloe Webb (as Nancy Spungen) manage to unearth a love story, which is battered into a sublime submission. This is what happens when hype overtakes talent; nobody wins but the marketing moguls. 
12. La Vie en Rose (2007) - Absolutely brilliant: great acting; great singing; great cinematography; great film. End of.

Yes, I am fully aware that only one in twelve of these focuses on a female artist; I'd be keen to hear recommendations for decent musical biopics that do. I have not yet seen The Runaways, although I intend to. I am also aware that there is a fine line between documentary and biopic (the Nick Cave one especially straddles fences, but that shouldn't come as any surprise), and that it seems people are often more interested in the 'madness' than the music. 

Blurred Lines: How to Talk to Girls at Parties

How to Talk to Girls at Parties by Neil Gaiman; illustrated by Fabio Moon and Gabriel Ba

Dark Horse Books

Pp.62

This is the first graphic novel I have read since I sat with a box of comic books at school on those rainy days when we couldn’t access the playground – unless you count Viz, of course, which kept me amused through my late teens. It was published June 2016, although the original short story by Neil Gaiman was written in 2006. The artistic content is clearly as important as the narrative or the words themselves, and here the images are supplied by Fábio Moon and Gabriel Bá: a Brazilian duo (twin brothers), who have won awards and international acclaim for telling stories in comic book form. The pictures feature bright colours with strong outlines and bold details against watercolour-like backgrounds to the panels. It is impressive and efficient to be able to draw pictures in place of descriptions, but it can occasionally lead to confusion as details, humorous asides, and motivations are omitted.

The story is set in East Croydon, told by Enn, and framed as a narrative from 30 years ago. He is a fifteen-year-old boy with all the normal concerns of a heterosexual teenager: namely how to make girls notice him when everyone seems to be attracted to his best mate, Vic. The language is either deliberately teenaged and ignorant or woefully blokey and sexist as he talks of girls as objects. Vic tells Enn, “You just have to talk to them. They’re just girls. They don’t come from another planet”, which is not bad advice, although it may also turn out not to be true.

At a party, Vic abandons him to go upstairs with the best-looking girl present (presumably for intimate encounters). Enn is despondent but forces himself to talk to three girls: Wain’s Wain, who explains that she is a second – she has six fingers on one hand – and thus not allowed to breed; a second nameless girl who claims, “I love being a tourist” and regales him with stories of “swimming in sunfire pools with whales” and learning to breathe; and Triolet, who claims to be a poem.

The story plays upon the need to belong and the fear of being an outsider, with strong implications of other-worldliness. Women are clearly from another planet – Mars and Venus anyone? When Triolet kisses him, it blows his mind. He sees “towers of glass and diamond and people with eyes of the palest green and unstoppable beneath every syllable I could feel the relentless advance of the ocean.” The drawing is of a fantasy land with bridges and turrets; minarets and spires in green and gold – a bit like The Emerald City in The Wizard of Oz.

Vic interrupts his reverie as he runs terrified from the house and Stella stands looking down at him in fury. There are suggestions that he tried to sexually assault her, although it is all rather ambiguous (The short story includes the line, “Her clothes were in disarray, and there was makeup smudged across her face, and her eyes”, which makes it less so). When Enn looks back he finds he remembers impressions of the evening rather than facts, and perhaps it is all a metaphor for the mind-altering universe of teenage hormones.

Neil Gaiman is hailed as a hero by many of my fantasy-loving friends, but I can’t help but feel there is something distasteful about this story. The pictures are beautiful but the sentiments are not. In trying to blur the lines of sexual experimentation and assault, I think this is unhelpful – especially when considering the teenage market at which it is aimed.

Art imitating art: Kehinde Wiley

One of the things I like about going to new cities is visiting galleries with which I am not familiar, and just wandering about noting artworks that I like for whatever reason. I have no preconceptions and I tend not to go to a specific exhibit; I just like to see what is prized by the local populace.

Indio Cuauhtemoc (The World Stage: Brazil), 2017 by Kehinde Wiley

In Portland Art Museum, this vibrant piece of art caught my eye - how could it not; check out that background! I had not previously heard of the artist, so I looked him up.

Apparently Kehinde Wiley paints young men and women of the African diaspora in majestic poses based on the glorified portraits of the European Renaissance and Enlightenment eras. The World Stage series expands the artist's view across the globe. For his Brazil paintings, Wiley began with the nationalistic monuments that stand in city streets and parks. He then selected Afro-Brazilian men from favelas, the poorest neighbourhoods in Brazil's cities, to stand in these aggrandized roles. Wiley depicts them in their everyday clothing against abundant floral backdrops.

His artistic choices draw attention to the troubling history of colonialism, the pervasiveness of American culture and fashion, and the ways we fetishize and desire 'the tropical'. The man in this painting poses like the statue of Cuauhtemoc, situated in Rio de Janeiro.

Cuauhtemoc was the last Aztec emperor who ruled Tenochtitlan from 1520 - 1521 before being executed by the Spanish. The government of Mexico gave the sculpture to Brazil in 1922 to recognise the 100th anniversary of Brazilian independence from Portugal.

I then learned that Wiley was chosen by Barack Obama to paint his official portrait which would hang in Smithsonian's National Portrait Gallery in the 'America's Presidents' exhibition. Again Wiley uses the style of having his subject seemingly floating among the foliage. This foliage comprises chrysanthemums (the official flower of Chicago), jasmine (symbolic of Hawaii where Obama spent much of his youth), and African blue lilies (alluding to the president's Kenyan father).

Barack Obama by Kehinde Wiley

Many people compared the image of Obama to the scene in The Simpsons where Homer attempts to avoid attention by backing into a hedge. Seeing similarities between modern photographs and classic works of art is not new, and technical folk have a lot of fun with it on the Net. An article in the New York magazine, Intelligencer, points out that this particular expression is both banal and bathetic.

The comparison between Wiley’s portrait and the iconic Simpsons moment is obviously meant as dumb fun, but it has an emotional resonance: a former president, watching from the sidelines, exiting quietly into history as his successor turns American politics into a petty, dysfunctional, egotistical mess.

The painting was unveiled in February 2018 together with Amy Sherald's portrait of Michelle Obama. These portraits mark the first time two African-American artists were commissioned by the National Portrait Gallery.

Michelle Obama by Amy Sherald

And this is why I like art galleries so much. They lead me down artistic pathways of mental exploration. Whenever I am looking; I am learning.

Friday Five: Even Crosser Stitch

Here are another five of my latest cross-stitch creations. The first four patterns and explanations are taken from Really Cross Stitch; for when You Just Want to Stab Something a Lot by Rayna Fahey.

'Aside from tractors, colour photography and whiskey, Ireland's greatest contribution to the world has to be Father Ted. Set on a fictional remote island, the television series revolves around three priests banished for previous misdemeanours. One episode stood out from the rest, when the local cinema screens a 'blasphemous' film. Father Ted leads the defence of community values.

'Down With This Sort Of Thing' was Father Ted's placard, and has become an old faithful on the Irish protest circuit. It can be used for any occasion, to be sure, to be sure.'

'The thing about snowflakes is, get enough of them in one place, add a bit of fury, and you've got yourself a blizzard. Blizzards may begin with a flutter but once they get going they have the power to bring cities to a standstill.

When the best response the entitled can come up with is to compare you to a benign and natural phenomenon, it's a pretty good sign you're winning the argument. And that their binary macho principles are ridiculous.'

'Indigenous peoples worldwide are the first to pay the price for climate change, yet contribute the least to its causes. Luckily for the future of our lovely planet, indigenous peoples are also the first to stand up and defend this beautiful place we call Earth. 

The battle lines of the war against climate change are being defended daily as people take direct action to save forests, rivers and oceans. From Standing Rock to the Galilee Basin, from the tar sands to the trade summits; the fight to stop climate change is shaping up to be the most creative and effective movement in our history.'

"To the wrongs that need resistance,to the right that needs assistance, to the future in the distance, give yourselves." - Carrie Chapman Catt (Suffragette)

For over 150 years women have led movements for one basic idea: participation in democracy is a right that belongs to everyone. While the debate's nuances have evolved, the idea remains strong. Of course the opposition to the movement is also ongoing. The anti-suffragettes of the 19th century had an appalling sense of humour and their cartoons are always good for a laugh. But the laughter turns bitter when we think about the relentless attacks on women we still face.

These just happen to be a couple of creative efforts I made and gave to a friend. The book, Mornington Crescent (AUD25 + p&p) is my own labour of love. The cross-stitch is a reference to spoon theory, and how, when the emotional drawer is empty, one can just feel like stabbing something a lot. It's also a warning. All cross-stitch is, in its way; it's quietly subversive, rebellious way.