A shorter hour

It's a slow Feb and a relaxed return to normal activities, not least CJ.  I got to a few local art exhibitions.  One was The work of art.  Tricky title.  I found a string of photos and paintings of visual artists, musicians, writers, but also gallery owners and wealthy collectors and the like.  The artists seemed intrinsically more interesting and the gallerists and collectors better dressed.  Just one pic of Elena Katz-Chernin but Wendy Sharpe called the Witching hour.  Interestingly that's the title of a concerto by EK-C for 8 double basses that a few mates have thought of suggesting to our orchestra to perform.   It was premiered by the Australian World Orchestra so it's probably more challenging than the painting.

The work of art is an exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery.

Avoiding the smoke

The Climate Rally was enveloped in smoke, probably unnoticed by the pollies within, given their arrivals by car to underground parks and into air-conditioned comfort. Thus is the way of decision makers. But those outside noticed. I eventually escaped to the High Court, hoping to catch the full bench considering a case of particular interest to me: Jenny Hocking's bid to release the letters between Kerr and the Queen, which have been classified as Private and not released to the public. Given this relates to perhaps the major event in Australian constitutional history, I'm interested and I expect they should be released. So I went in. Jenny Hocking was there (I think that was her) and a spattering of visitors and the full bench of 7 judges. I only heard an hour-or-so of presentation. They retired at 4.15 and were to reconvene the following day at 10am. Now it's two days later and I am awaiting further news. I guess a decision will take time. But the air was cleaner inside.

I had a few moments so caught the Face to Face exhibition in another nicely comfy space, the National Portrait Gallery, knowing that I would miss it otherwise. It was interesting, but to some degree disappointing. Lots of performers (admittedly admired ones) who perhaps make eye connections well, and if not, are of common interest. A few writers and artists. Not sure I saw one politician or judge or scientist or whatever. There was at least one sportswoman. It was just a cursory visit but I'm wondering if it says anything about a celebrity-infused culture. Dunno. I'd need more time and thought and I'm unlikely to revisit before it closes in just a week or so. But one other thing I read while there struck me like a hammer: "Only seventeen of Australia's thirty prime ministers to date are represented in the National Portrait Gallery's collection, with their portraits acquired mostly according to unexpected opportunity". Yes, it's a new collection and Parliament House is unlikely to hand over their portraits (they essentially purloined the National Library's Magna Carta for their spaces) but this is worrying none-the-less. A national portrait gallery without portraits of all PMs? Is nothing sacred? Nonetheless, best of luck to the NPG in gathering this part of its collection.

Jenny Hocking's bid to release the Palace letters was condiered by the High Court of Australia. Face to Face was an exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery.

High Court to hear bid to release the Queen’s secret Whitlam dismissal letters / Jenny Hocking (29 Jan 2020)

High Court to determine whether 'Palace letters' written during the Whitlam dismissal should be released / Elizabeth Byrne (upd. 4 Feb 2020)

Hocking v. Director-General of the National Archives of Australia [HCA] Case S262/2019

Amongst the artz

Visitors out of town and quiet amongst the institutions. Megan and I took an afternoon for a short visit. Not Tom Roberts or the celestial empire, although they look great and are planned. Just to see the new thematic layout in the National Gallery and the switch of Australian downstairs and International upstairs. I liked it. I especially liked the occasional walls of profusions of artworks. These galleries have lots of painting; I'm not sure why they don't show them off to the max. They do at the AGSO and Palazzo Pitti and the like. They are touching on it here, and those busy spaces are the most inviting judged by the numbers perusing. Maybe the sex and beach theme helped in one gallery. I liked the lower ceilings for Blue poles and Hockney's Grand Canyon was hugely better hung where it now is. Perhaps a busier wall would have helped but it worked. Our local Ex de Medici gets a seriously prominent spot, as does another local, Patricia Piccinini, and there's more poignant humour with a Refugee astronaut. Not everything is moved: Asian, Indian, Aboriginal and such galleries are in place, but this change deserves a few visits. On the way, we dropped in to the National Portrait Gallery to find Dirk, Lachlan and Stewart playing and modelling in the foyer. An amusing concept. Jazz musicians play; amateur artists draw. Nice.

We visited the National Gallery of Australia. Dirk Zeylmans (tenor), Lachlan Coventry (bass, guitar) and Stewart King (guitar) were playing for live (not life) drawing in the foyer of the NPG.

Just pics, after all

Face of South Sudan, by Melanie Faith Dove. Digital Print. Thanks to NPG for permission to publish

I was a little disappointed by the National Photographic Portrait prize. The hung pics, shortlisted from 1,200 entries, are now on display in the National Portrait Gallery. I was musing over how to judge these pics. These are just photos and I’ve said before that I consider photography a pretty minor art. I thought about which touched me; which seemed indulgent or touching or pretentious or humane; which seemed technically accomplished (I enjoy doing photography and I treated it rather seriously in the past, doing darkroom work and studying Ansel Adams and zone theory and composition). The winners didn’t do it for me. I was annoyed by a few pics: Reg Mombassa and his cat called Puss (what else?) (Reg / James Blackwood) and Rowan Atkinson in serious pose with some comment that he’s not really like Mr Bean and he likes cars (Bean no more / Quentin Jones). These both struck me as pretentious. I enjoyed the structure of the pic of Burt Bacharach although it seemed strangely devoid of personality (What the world needs now is love / Jeremy Shaw). A few other celebrities did nothing for me. Perhaps they are too used to the camera in their faces or too ready to enjoy it. I understood something from the homeless couple in a park with a tent (Rob and Kayla / Tom Psomotrogas). I despaired how anyone could make serious reference to the gutwrenching photo “General Nguyen Ngoc Loan Executing a Viet Cong Prisoner in Saigon” with a cute girl and Banksy graffito (Confronted / Tim Tam). I liked the pouting young daughter with a face of hair (Birds’ nests / Rewa Nolan) and the daughter’s creation of ornate Victorian clothing modelled by the other sister (The living room / Janet Tavener) and the kids who recreated circus characters (Les enfants du Paradis / Tracey Schramm). I respected another family story, of the father and retired NSW policeman on location in the Blue Mountains (Retired mounted policeman / Paul Mallam). These are personal and honest and each seemed to me to tell a true story. I very much liked the grannies seated in a row (Granny’s 90th / Katherine Bennett). I would have dreamed of taking that photo. I quite liked the feeding Aboriginal mother (Becky feeding Hazel / Louise Allerton) and the comfortable old couple next to her (Ivan and Lillian / Margot Sharman). I was touched by another young mother with a child in hospital (Katie and Jaylen Cornish / Morganna Magee). I admired the sharpness and colour of the channel swimmer (Wyatt / Daniel Arnaldi) and also the large portrait of a black man (Redfern, I love you – Alan / Ben Lawrence). I felt uncomfortable with one man, eyeless due to reflections on his glasses (Hamish Ta-mé / Dennis del Favero) but I enjoyed the story and the now-other-worldly feel of the morse coder (Morse coder / Richard Goodwin). But I gave it to the photo of Agnes (Face of South Sudan / Melanie Faith Dove). It’s a big and sharp portrait of a striking face, in profile, all glowing black skin and clean white background with a single, unobtrusive gold earring. Great pic. That’s my winner. Perhaps I should declare conflicts of interest: I prefer dogs and never laughed at Mr Bean. And one last thing. I was disappointed by the (not unreflective) glass over every pic. They don’t cover paintings that are unique; why cover photos that can be reproduced? I’m waiting on permission to use a pic, so in the meantime just follow the links below.

National Photographic Portrait Prize @ NPG

Portraits in jazz

Adnoisiam. It’s a punny name, but the music was anything but. Miro presented a beautifully subtle and intimate quartet in the foyer of the National Portrait Gallery. I didn’t recognise many tunes until we got to the end of the second set and Miro brought out some stalwarts from the Wanderlust catalogue including that hauntingly beautiful “Peace please”. I love the music of Wanderlust for honesty and perception and exhuberance, and this was just icing on the cake. But this band was less worldly, more internalised, more impressionistic. Luke played fewer discordances than when he plays post-bop, and his rhythmic conception was more classical turn of the (20th) century sprays of notes rather than sustained 8th note jazz lines. Ed had few solos but his accompaniment was closely felt and richly dynamic; lovely playing and nothing unusual for Ed. Bill accompanied with concentrated, thoughtful restraint, and soloed frequently and with a rich sense of melody. I particularly enjoyed Miro's style in this meditative context. That purity of trumpet tone (I see wave forms when processing the recordings I make; the trumpets have a unique and pure signature) with unadorned and simple melodies, intersperced with long notes or hectic legato outpourings. Nothing was extraneous in this band; nothing forced. It was music for a Sunday afternoon, but intelligent and deeply felt, never just smooth. From the back of the foyer, the sound was very live and piano and bass were a bit indistinct. But closer in, it was clearer and more richly textured and Miro’s trumpet took on a delightfully rich tonality, courtesy of reverberations from the hard surfaces. There was a small but appreciative listening audience, and most visitors to the gallery stopped and appreciated the intellectual clarity and purpose of the music. There was even a Vanity Fair portrait of Louis Armstrong looking in on the proceedings. How apt!

Adnoisiam were Miroslav Bukovsky (trumpet and leader), Luke Sweeting (piano), Bill Williams (bass) and Ed Rodrigues (drums). BTW, the NPG is staging Sunday afternoon jazz for the next few weeks to accompany its visiting exhibition of Vanity Fair portraits. It’s well worth a visit: for the jazz, but also for the Vanity Fair portraits, the permanent collection, and the recently-awarded architecture.