Friday, 29 May 2020

Friday Five: Iso Puzzles

We ordered a new table a while ago, and it arrived on the day that the government banned gatherings of more than two people and prevented us from welcoming folk to our house to share meals and laughter. So we might as well put it to use as a puzzle board until the restrictions are lifted. 

The Painted Ladies, San Francisco
I did the easy bits, and left the gradations in colour of the sky to Him Outdoors.




I was surprised to learn that not everyone does puzzles the same way - some people don't do the edges first. This knowledge has confounded me completely.


Portland Head Light
This one was lent to us by The Luminosity and it was quite tough, but (although there were lots of similarities in the pieces), I couldn't be cross because... well, just look at their fluffy faces emerging!

Lena, Linus and Luke
Another pack of borrowed pieces - from Doctor Kay and the Design Diva - this has fantastic shapes, which are wonderfully easy to slot into place. The laser-cut wooden pieces are very satisfying to touch and arrange into the picture, and the puzzle incorporates several 'whimsy' pieces. These pieces are apparently a historical link to the Victorian puzzle-making past; as the name suggests, the original Victorian puzzle cutters added the individual pieces on a whim and so the term 'whimsy' was born. I broke with my usual method to finish areas first, before completing the edges. I didn't like that. 

Picture frame in the water
Motorcar and butler in the sky
Elephant in the walls
Dolphin in the gondola
St Mark's Square
We also borrowed this last one from Original Gravity. It has no edge pieces. That was challenging for my OCD puzzle building method. The picture on the front is not quite the same as the completed image. And there are five extra pieces. Some people are sadists, pure and simple - can you have a pure and simple sadist? Yes, they design puzzles like this one. 


Take a Coffee Break
The extra five pieces
Special chewed-by-the-dog pieces

Tuesday, 26 May 2020

Life and Death: The House of Broken Angels


The House of Broken Angels by Luis Alberto Urrea
Little Brown
Pp. 321

Big Angel (Miguel Angel de La Cruz) is planning his last birthday party before he succumbs to the cancer that is killing him. And then his mother dies. The family gathers to commemorate her life and to celebrate his over one Rabelaisian weekend of relationships and recriminations in San Diego. Among the guests is Little Angel, Big Angel’s half-brother, who shares the same father, Don Antonio, but a different life: his mother was not Mexican as the rest of the family are, and the racial resentments are evident as stereotypes rub shoulders with sensitivity.

The party is raucous with lots of food and all its cultural associations, and the novel is peopled with a host of characters; there are so many people (and lots of children), that it is hard to keep up with who is related to whom by marriage or previous entanglements, especially when people have nicknames too. When Little Angel arrives he has a notebook in which he keeps a cheat sheet; this is a great idea and one that is highly recommended for the reader.

The divide between the Mexicans and the Americans is blurred. Little Angel wants to speak Spanish to his family, but they don’t accommodate this wish. “He tried, and they insisted on answering him in English. Though they knew perfectly well that he spoke Spanish as well as they did and better than their children did. Each side had something to prove, and none of them knew what it was.” Two different worlds and cultures collide in an unspoken competition. Little Angel feels torn between the nationalities and he refutes the glib assumptions that one has for the other. For many, America is better, but for others, Mexico is superior in its transparency.

The brothers share a father and the memories of his toxic masculinity. Although he was a dominating brute who abandoned both of their mothers, Big and Little Angel loved him and learned some of their behaviour from him. They share experiences in a series of picaresque reminisces. “The brothers lay side by side, shuffling through so many memories. So many imperfect scenes. It felt as though they had opened a box of old photographs, each of the pictures torn and tattered.”

Big Angel also thinks in scents and smells, which trigger memory. As his body deteriorates, other senses float forward: “Early morning before dawn was best, when he didn’t remember he was dying. For a moment, he thought he had a future. And he savoured his past. Today, it tasted of butterscotch.” The novel is elegiac, but it also fluidly distorts linear timelines. It is a riotous, messy book that depicts a celebration and observance of both life and death with a backdrop of cultural confusion. Perhaps we shouldn’t have to identify with one thing or another, but can select the aspects on which we would like to focus, and drift along on currents of abandon.

Wednesday, 20 May 2020

The 2018 Archibald Prize - Part Three

Further to previous posts, here is the third 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.
Narcissist, the anatomy of melancholy by James Powditch
Well, this is different - of course it looks like a page from a textbook, but also like an advertisement. And then, we know it must be a portrait, so it is intriguing to consider it in this context. It is a self-portrait, and there is an element that all self-portraiture is narcissistic as one must focus so entirely upon the self. Similarly, one of the features of depression is that the subject becomes self-obsessed as they grapple with their feelings. I like the way that something so messy as human nature is distilled here into a diagrammatic representation.

The artist describes this self portrait as being 'honest and raw, about aging and facing up to the reality of who I am as opposed to what I project'. As previously mentioned; self absorbed. He says he remembers the Visible Man as an anatomy kit from his childhood. Behind the figure are references to his youthful fascinations: movie stars, maps of exotic places, pictures from old art books.
"Things behind the portrait of me include flowers - rose (love), daffodil (narcissism), St John's wort (depression) - and chapter headings from The anatomy of melancholy, by Robert Burton, one of the earliest texts that looks at depression clinically and philosophically. There are also things that represent ways of creating order out of chaos: dates, calendars, statistics and astrological books."
Jimmy (title fight) by Jamie Preisz
The subject of this portrait is one of the few that I actually recognise. Jimmy Barnes is big here in Australia - he was the lead singer of the band Cold Chisel and also achieved success as a solo performer. He is often wheeled out for commentary on socio-political issues and his memoirs, Working Class Boy (2016) and Working Class Man (2017) are both best-sellers. 

His gravelly voice and tough background are his trademarks and are frequently parodied. He is held up as an archetypal 'Aussie battler' with a Scottish upbringing and this image of him as a past-before-date-boxer is an inspired move. He still has the swagger and the attitude if not the fitness or agility of former years. The portrait won the Packing Room Prize, which is a $1,500 cash prize awarded to the best entry in the Archibald Prize as judged by the gallery staff who receive, unpack and hang the entries.
"Jimmy has never been afraid to stand up and fight for his career, his family, and even his life.
"His dad, Jim Swan, was a prize-fighter in Glasgow and that formed part of my inspiration to depict him as a boxer. After losing my sister to suicide, I was touched deeply when I saw an interview with Jimmy speaking about his own suicide attempt. To me, he was fighting against the stigma of mental health issues by speaking so publicly about his own struggles, especially to generations of men who don't feel that having emotional intelligence is a masculine quality.
"The red drapery in the background is a reference to Caravaggio's Judith beheading Holofernes, a painting often considered to represent triumph over tyranny. The drapery also suggests backstage - a place Jimmy knows well."
Hall of fame - portrait of Pat Corrigan by Joanna Braithwaite
I love this image - it reminds me of one of those trompe l'oeil pictures, where we see the subject (Pat Corrigan) standing in front of a plethora of images of himself. I also like the idea of the artist reproducing reproductions; a portrait of portraits, if you will. With his hands clasped behind his back Corrigan has a military bearing and, although his slightly hunched posture suggests a number of years, his expression as he looks straight at the viewer implies a wry wisdom and one would have to be a fool to disrespect him. He is a businessman, art collector and philanthropist and, although I didn't know that, I am not surprised to learn it. According to the artist, he is also "a well-known figure in the Australian art world; renowned for his knowledge, generosity and his cheeky, charming persona".

I like the hyper-realistic style of Joanna Braithwaite and first saw her artwork in The Christchurch Art Gallery Te Puna o WaiwhetÅ«. Her art often features animals and birds in metaphorical settings and she has been described as a "realist, though of an edgy an sceptical sort. Braithwaite's eloquently phrased paintings occupy that point where the traditions of animal painting and Vanitas painting intersect." While I am not so used to see her portraying a human subject, the bright background and strong outlines are familiar. 
"I wanted to paint Pat because it fascinates me that although he is regularly painted by established artists for the Archibald, he has never been painted by a woman before.
"I decided to paint Pat in front of a selection of the many portraits that have been created of him over the years. The earlisest image is a black-and-white photograph by Max Daupin. The other artists whose works are clearly shown, top left to bottom right, are: Paul Newton, Adam Knott (photograph), Anne Zahalka (photograph), Michael Muir, Peter Smets, Euan Macleod, Alan Jones, Paul Newton,Nicholas Harding and Nigel Thompson. I also included a self-portrait with Pat in my studio, which is over his shoulder. The red wall is a nod to China, where Pat was born and spent some formative years. So here is Pat the collector with a collection of Pat portraits."
Villains always get the best lines by Loribelle Spirovski
There is a striking angularity to this portrait that is deeply appealing. The lines of the subject's limbs both reflect and refract the joins of the walls and the floor on which he sits. He appears to be trapped in a box, from which he is anxious to explode at any minute. It does not surprise me to learn that the subject is an actor, Nicholas Hope, to be precise, whom the attached explanation notes is 'best known for his powerful performance in Rolf de Heer's cult 1993 film Bad Boy Bubby'. 

I have never seen this film, but IMBD describes the plot as a 35-year-old man being trapped in the same small room, tricked by his mother. One day he manages to escape and, deranged and naive in equal measures, his adventure into the modern and nihilistic life begins. It seems appropriate for our current situation, and I might look out the film. The artist says she was deeply affected by his portrayal of the character, and when she met him at a premiere of his recent film, she asked him if he would sit for a portrait. 
"He graciously accepted and invited me into his home. I was immediately struck by the very natural, almost balletic way in which he sat on the rug and proceeded to paint him like that. His intense eyes were what I most wanted to highlight, coupled with the controlled calm of his posture." 
Self-care exhaustion by Amber Boardman
This one is my favourite. Its busy, chaotic technique and wide range of colours sing to me as much as the image itself of a woman sitting in a bath with a wine and a book. Is that a wig beside her? Is she wearing a bathrobe in the bath? Has she got a vegetable-health-boost drink as well as a bottle of wine? How can she read with cucumbers on her eyes? Why is she surrounded by paintings, scented candles and a yoga mat - the poor thing is trying to do too many things at once. 

It is as though she has read all the magazine articles about how one has to be creative and the pressure of making time for yourself has simply become too overwhelming as she struggles to conform to the latest tyranny - we can't just relax in our own way; we have to be told how to do it, and then take the perfect Instagram pic to tell everyone else that we are doing it. 

Initially this seems like a peaceful picture, but the more I look at it; the more anxious it makes me. I wasn't sure if this was how I was 'meant' to feel, and began to worry that I was having the wrong reaction, until I read the explanatory panel in which I learned the subject is the artist's alter ego called Jade, the name her mother had originally wanted to call her. 
"Jade looks aspiringly to online representations of beauty, selfie culture and tends such as 'self-care' and 'me time', but finds that trying to relax has become yet another thing she must add to her daily to-do-list.
"Jade attempts these self-care tactics simultaneously , surrounding herself in the bath with a glass of wine, a blender full of green smoothie, self-help books, candles, a facial mask, a yoga mat, ad her newfound hobby, painting.
"On the surface, this painting - which is partly inspired by internet memes on the topic of self-care - is funny because she looks ridiculous and is trying too hard. On a deeper level, it questions consumption, wellness culture and the frantic pace of life.
"I'm interested in the capacity for internet memes, jokes and humour to be little anthropological essays that reveal what is important in our culture at this moment. My work aims to highlight the absurdities of everyday life."
Charlotte by David Darcy
This is almost the antithesis of the previous painting. While there are primary colours in the subject's clothing, the background is sketchy and unimportant. The posture of half sitting on the stool appears awkward and uncomfortable, and there is similarly a total lack of warmth in the expression. This woman looks as though she has fought hard to be where she is and she isn't going to compromise or take any nonsense from anyone. On the basis of this portrait, I would find it impossible to relax in her presence and I would be terrified to laugh because she doesn't look as though humour is a factor in her life. 

Apparently the subject is Charlotte Drake-Brockman, whom the artist describes as 'a charismatic 84-year-old artist who resides in the small rural township of Murrurundi, New South Wales. Locally Charlotte has a reputation as a firebrand who isn't afraid to speak her mind. But the tough persona belies a generous woman.' If this is indeed the case, I feel he has gone too hard on the tough, and not left enough room for the generosity of spirit. 
"When I moved to Murrurundi 18 months ago, Charlotte was the first local to invite me over for a beer. Her zest for life, defiant attitude towards authority, generous spirit and the fact that she still mows her own lawn inspired me. Being the new artist in town, I felt painting a portrait of this local character would help me connect to my new community.
"Charlotte recently lost her partner of 42 years and it's evident from our conversations he is greatly missed. But life goes on. I wanted the painting to portray a woman who is strong, unconventional, comfortable in her aged skin, flamboyant and still formidable. A woman who has lived a full life and commands her own space."

Friday, 15 May 2020

COVID-19 Friday Five: ISO TV

The Durrells Third Series
While I cannot watch live sport or live theatre, I have had to find other ways to entertain myself. As well as listening to a lot of podcasts and reading a lot of books, I have also been watching a lot of TV series. I've been finding it hard to concentrate of late so my usual art-house films and documentaries are on hold, and I don't really like reality TV. I haven't got Netflix or Stan so these are all on free-to-air services.

Harlots Second Series
5 COVID-Friendly TV Series:
  1. The Durrells (BBC First) - practically the definition of comfort TV; the adventures of a dysfunctional but charming family led by the matriarch played by Keeley Hawes, and set on the idyllic island of Corfu just before the outbreak of WWII 
  2. Friday Night Dinner (ABC iview) - brothers Adam and Jonny Goodman, siblings in an eccentric Jewish family, return home each week for a free meal and to deal with their wonderful parents (Tamsin Greig; Paul Ritter) and their weird neighbour (Mark Heap) - there are six series of this spanning nine years, and I've only just found it! 
  3. Harlots (SBS On Demand) - strong roles for women (excellent portrayals from Samantha Morton and Lesley Manville, although the less said about Liv Tyler; the better) as the feuding brothel keepers spit insults at each other in an almost obscenely enjoyable period drama  
  4. No Offence (ABC iview) - UK police drama set in Manchester, and in which the three main leads are women with all the ballsy dialogue and attitude you would expect from creator Paul Abbott - also, coincidentally, starring Paul Ritter 
  5. Stateless (ABC iview) - excellent Aussie drama with great acting (including Cate Blanchett, Yvonne Strahovski, Asher Keddie and Marta Dusseldorp) and directing but, set around the world of detention camps and illegal immigration, it can be a bit hard to watch in places 

Tuesday, 12 May 2020

That Way Madness Lies: The Warlow Experiment


The Warlow Experiment by Alix Nathan
Serpent's Tail
Pp. 276

This novel is based on the true story of an eccentric Victorian gentleman, Herbert Powyss, who conducted an experiment; he placed an advert in a newspaper asking for a man to volunteer to be placed in isolation in his cellar for seven years with ‘every convenience desired’ but ‘without seeing a human face’. John Warlow was the only person who answered the advert, ‘a semi-literate labourer with a wife and six children to provide for’. Alix Nathan imagines how this experiment might have worked, or not, and she has created a rich novel of mental manipulation. She imagines that Powyss wants to see how a mind would cope without social contact and write up his findings to present to the Royal Society.

Powyss is typical of his era in that he likes to collect and catalogue things. He imagines that a human would be no different to his plants, “where so often he’d exerted order and precision, used good sense and experience, where reason had ruled”. Many of the metaphors are flora-related; he also hangs paintings on his walls of the Dutch masters and the cover of the book is a Flemish Vanitas image with fruit and flowers surrounded by insect life. Even the endpapers are glorious depictions of wildlife on wallpaper, representing both the care with which Powyss took to furnish Warlow’s underground apartments, and the never-ceasing ecological effects of co-existence.

Everyone in the house is affected by the presence of the man in the cellar, including the cook and the butler. The novel frequently switches perspective mid-chapter from Powyss to Fox, his old schoolfellow, or Hannah, Warlow’s wife, to Catherine, the housemaid. As one expects, madness ensues, and there are clear echoes of Frankenstein, Pygmalion, and even Jekyll and Hyde. Science without nature is abhorrent and potentially impossible. Life is fragile and unpredictable. Alix Nathan’s book is a superb rationale for the Ethical Conduct of Human Research Committee.

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.