Pics

Viewfinder is (for a few more days) an exhibition of photos from the collection of the National Library at the NLA.  It's subtitled photography from the 1970s to now, but I strangely found it a bit unrelatable.  I shouldn't given it is my era.  It's only ~150 pics but even so I was surprised that I recognised so few.  Perhaps because they were seldom (if ever?) by photojournalists. What do I remember?  A Tracey Moffat self portrait; a few of the environment and animals and the bush; Sylvania Waters (to suffer early from rising oceans?); Catholic and Anglican cemeteries; just a few pollies (Whitlam, Hawke and Howard); interestingly, some workers from when we had secondary industries (very casually dressed, somewhat pre-OH&S); something of youth cultures (hippies, sharpies and surfers); some old streets and buildings and the like.  I was totally dumbfounded once or twice.  The middle room at the underground dwelling at Kings Cross was something totally unknown to me; homelessness of the period, I guess.  A few pics.  You can see the exhibition online by working your way through the catalogue entries.

Viewfinder : photography from the 1970s to now was an exhibition at the National Library of Australia.

Viewfinder checklist (links to catalogue entries and images)

A few laughs

Political cartoons provide a few laughs but, of course, they serve a much greater purpose, to explain or comment on the news and events of the day. They can be uproariously funny, snidely cutting, embarrassingly illuminating. There are great cartoonists across the world and Australia is right up there. Perhaps it's a thing of the culture, but I prefer ours to most others. Except maybe New Scientist or The Economist or sometimes New Yorker. Cartoons also require that you know the topic. The National Library has a large collection of cartoons and I got to their exhibition called Inked. It's arranged in date order, so the early rooms are largely unknown and no understood, at least for me. For me, it starts at Whitlam, although there's some awareness back to Menzies. For others, earlier or later. For Labor Party animals, it's earlier. But I got a good few belly laughs from some of those displayed. But they can be black, too, like Best we forget or Progress. Here are a few. Sadly some other favourites didn't photograph well. Worth a visit to the NLA along with the annual display of best political cartoons downstairs at Old Parliament House.

Inked is a display of political cartoons at the National Library of Australia.

Tallis and continuity

The Musical Offering keeps on giving, this time with Igitur nos singing in the National Library foyer. It was only a short concert, but pure in the way of the Iggies (not a term I concocted). They sang from the books of Thomas Tallis, Eric Whittaker, Edward Bairstow and Maurice durufle.
These are religious songs, mostly dating from far before Canberra’s establishment but a few from after, mediaeval in impression if not always in date. I noticed blooming vocal attacks from these singers and I imagine this allows them to neaten their tone and intonation. This is gentle music, softly portrayed, even if complex in form and movement. I noticed some harshness on high soprano notes while listening from the ground floor in the marble space, but this dissipated from the balcony above. Up there, the tone was more pure and the parts nicely balanced and the counterpoint so evident: the basses rich and supportive and the tenors and altos moving under the soprano melodies. The audience was entranced, even if unsuspecting: happening on a choral performance when coming to study or emerging from bookshop or café. It’s a life-affirming experience to happen on a choir like this, and so apt in an institution of learning and memory that is a library. Not that a library is all so pure: for some it’s a place of work with all its workplace tiffs and managerial organisation and social happenings and the rest. Megan and I worked here many years back. Matthew Stuckings, Igitur nos’ musical director, currently works here as a mansucripts librarian. You can forget its importance when it’s a daily visit, but a concert like this is a reminder. A choir singing Tallis, with all its resonances of history and continuity, just confirms the noble role of the Library. Igitur nos is always a joy as is this institution, and, for that matter, the Musical Offering.

Igitur nos performed in the foyer of the National Library of Australia for the C100 Musical Offering. Matthew Stuckings conducted.

Quattrocento > Cinquecento

Carlo Crivelli. Madonna and child c.1482-1483. Accademia Carrara, Bergamo, legacy of Guglielmo Lochis 1866

I love the art of the quattrocento/cinquecento from Italy. I saw tons of it when I lived in Italy for a few years so I was happy to attend the National Gallery’s blockbuster exhibition, Renaissance, but I didn’t expect to be thrilled. But I was. It was a nice small exhibition with just a few works that I recognised, but it I thoroughly enjoyed watching the changes from Mediaeval to Rennaissance and was stunned by how 100 years-or-so was all it took to move from odd perspective and flat surfaces and glowing-eggshell skin tones to the realism and humanism of Northern Italy around 1550. I learnt lots because the change was so concentrated and so obvious. Megan and I walked around with a “shared adult” audio tour and it was a great choice. The descriptions were informative (despite some questionnable Italian pronunciation) and the shared audio made for a strangely intimate but social visit.

Giovanni Bellini. Madonna and Child (Alzano Madonna) c.1488. Accademia Carrara, Bergamo, bequest of Giovanni Morelli 1891








Sandro Botticelli. Christ the Redeemer c.1495-1505. Accademia Carrara, Bergamo, bequest of Giovanni Morelli 1891








Titian. Madonna and Child in a landscape c.1507. Accademia Carrara, Bergamo, legacy of Guglielmo Lochis 1866






Giovan Battista Moroni. Portrait of a child of the house of Redetti c.1570. Accademia Carrara, Bergamo, legacy of Guglielmo Lochis 1866







After the first few rooms, I chose the Carlo Crivelli Madonna and child as my favourite with its glowing tempera skin and its luscious and suggestive peaches (I later discovered these were apples, to my disappointment) and the two landscapes (one rich and on the side of Heaven, one dry) and the symbolic cucumber (!) (=Jonah in the whale, ie, Resurrection) and cherry (=sweetness, ie, joy of Heaven) and carnation (= ardent love, ie, Mary). But then we were stunned by several wonderfully authentic portraits (Lazzaro Bastiani's Portrait of the philosopher Lucio Crasso; Andrea Solario's Ecce homo; Lorenzo Lotto's Portrait of a young man). We loved Raphael’s well-balanced Saint Sebastian, I enjoyed Titian’s soft Madonna and child in a landscape and was intrigued by the cartoon-like Botticelli Christ the redeemer. Then a few more portraits from the late-Renaissance (Altobello Melone’s Portrait of a gentleman [Cesare Borgia?]; Lorenzo Lotto’s Portrait of Lucina Brembati). Then the stunning change to the Northern Italian realism of the Renaissance (Giovan Moroni’s Portrait of a child of the house of Redetti; and Moroni’s Portrait of an old man seated and his paired portrait, Portrait of the nobleman Bernardo Spini and Portrait of the noblewoman Pace Rivola Spini). It was fascinating and quite a stunning little exhibit. We loved it. But that was not all.

This is the Canberra Day weekend and a time of many festivals. I have just discovered there’s a new and youthfully energetic and iconoclastic one in Civic called YouAreHere. The Multicultural Festival was on recently and Enlighten is on now. The National Folk Festival comes up at Easter. All the big events at the national instituions get listed in these programs, like Handwritten at the National Library and Renassance. I was remiss in not writing up Handwritten when we saw it a few weeks ago. It was a display of several manuscripts (Virgil, Dante, Bibles, books of hours), letters with signatures from immensely famous people (Macchiavelli, Erasmus, Michelangelo…), several famed music manuscripts (Handel, Bach, Beethoven, Mozart…). We missed a concert of Beethoven’s 5th piano concerto for four hands (the manuscript was on display in Handwritten) because we had a conflict with Renaissance but unexpectedly there was also music at the National Gallery. I just caught one short set: Tegan Peemoeller on harp with Katie Cole doubling on soprano and violin. Tegan was admirably calm and professional in accompaniment. Katie was dramatic in performance and daring on both voice and violin. This was music of the era (or close enough) and expressed with that mostly unwavering pre-classical voice. We recognised Bach’s Song of love and a modern popular interloper, Balfe’s I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls. There was also a recorder ensemble and Tobias Cole singing with Tegan, but we missed them.

Renaissance was an exhibition of Italian art of the Mediaeval and Renaissance periods on loan from the Accademia Carrara in Bergamo at the National Gallery of Australia. Handwritten was an exhibition of letters and manuscripts on loan from the Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin at the National Library of Australia. Tegan Peemoeller (harp) performed with Katie Cole (soprano, violin). What a wonderfully rich life we can live these days in the West (if we choose to do so, of course). And this is not even NYC!

PS, These pics are borrowed from the National Gallery's exhibition website with permission - thanks to NGA

NGA's excellent Renaissance website