Stewart MacFarlane @ Australian Galleries

Friday, 21 October 2011

Last night I went to the Collingwood Arts Precinct Open Night, when most galleries within Smith / Peel / Wellington / Derby streets’ perimeter remained open till 9pm. I was rather disappointed with the modest attendance, perhaps due to Melbourne’s unpredictable weather, or perhaps to the fact that most galleries (with the exception of Catherine Asquith) had existing shows on view, the official openings for which had already taken place a few days or weeks prior.

Six venues participated in the event, and I was most interested to see an exhibition or recent works by Stewart MacFarlane at the Australian Galleries. I assume this heralds Stewart’s parting of the ways with his former dealer, Charles Nodrum, with whom he has been for a better part of two decades.

The exhibition contains finished works as well as smaller studies, wherein the artist’s modus operandi is revealed. MacFarlane produces a large body of preparatory studies of nude models, reclining in a variety of poses, their erogenous zones exaggerated and emphasized. His studies also include interior scenes and landscapes, drawn from his immediate environment. Judging from these studies, this peripatetic artist is presently domiciled in Adelaide.

Like a skilful movie director, MacFarlane collates his preparatory sketches into complex psycho-enigmatic mise-en-scenes: nudes by open windows; menacing strangers on rooftops; peaceful-looking suburban street scenes with a violent action taking place almost as an afterthought in the background of the picture.

The whole is executed in bright, lurid colours, a palette which requires a lot of mastery, and in which MacFarlane excels. Luscious reds, succulent greens, sparkling yellows, deep blues and velvety purples are boldly placed side by side, contrasting and bringing out each other’s brilliance. Their vibrant energy is contained, stained-glass like, within thick outlines of black pigment.

MacFarlane belongs to that set of Australian painters who rarely change their subject matter, dominant palette, or style of painting. At the same time, one can hardly decry this ‘sameness’ when the production is consistently good. And if in the past one could detect a certain rush to finish the paintings, which often resulted in poor drawing and slapdash execution of background details, few of such shortcomings (if any) can be detected in this exhibition.

[© Eugene Barilo von Reisberg 2011. Where applicable, images are courtesy of the artists and their galleries.]

Angels-Demons by AES+F

Thursday, 20 October 2011 

For anyone riding down Swanston Street and St Kilda Road it would become apparent that a swarm of demon babies has descended upon Melbourne. Numbering seven in total, they stretch from the Melbourne Town Hall to the Arts Centre forecourt. These Angels-Demons, to give them their correct name, are a product of the talented and internationally renowned Russian collective, AES+F, and they are making their stop-over here for the duration of the Melbourne Festival.

These grand Neo-Baroque sculptures cannot be missed due to their sheer size and commanding presence. The attraction to them is instantaneous, as we are naturally drawn to anything that has to do with babies – if the multi-billion dollar baby industry and the increasing proliferation of baby photos on Facebook are anything to go by.

But the fascination is also borne by the innumerable visual dichotomies and psychological paradoxes contained within these sculptures. The very title of these works already points towards the inherent dualities with which the artists have imbued their works. Angels-Demons have no distinguishable gender or race; they are simultaneously playful yet threatening; unmistakeably human yet with atavistic dragon tails, bat wings, and horn protrusions; reminiscent of the innocent and harmlessly mischievous putti and yet so visibly demonic.

The babies’ pink and puffy skin has been replaced here by hard, black, cold and gleaming surfaces, which reflect everything around them. By gazing at these sculptures, we involuntarily end up seeing our own reflection perhaps recognising in the process the aspects of inherent multiplicities within ourselves.

[© Eugene Barilo von Reisberg 2011]

NewNorth Prize for Photography 2011

Wednesday, 19 October 2011

I worked today on the NewNorth Prize for Photography 2011, processing innumerable entry forms and cataloguing details of photographs entered into the competition.

Now in its third edition, the Prize is taking place annually at the specialist photography space, New North Gallery, in Fairfield. Although it is slightly more modest as compared to the Bowness Prize at the Monash Gallery of Art, it guarantees that all entries will be displayed, and the winner receives, as a part of the Prize, a free, all-expenses-paid, fully curated exhibition at New North Gallery the following year.

It accordingly attracts a wide cross-section of photographers from across Australia, emerging and professional, artistic and documentary, who are working in a variety of photographic processes and styles, and who are looking to gain a wider exposure through their participation in the Prize. Talking to the prize entrants makes one realise how special it is to see one’s works presented and hung in a gallery environment, and increase one’s visibility and profile beyond the confines of a studio or a  website.

Given my passion for portraiture in all its forms, I have instituted from the very inception of the New North Prize a modest cash award for Portraiture, which is matched dollar-for-dollar by the management of Prize. My very first ‘award’ went to Sean O’Carroll, who went on to produce striking and widely-publicised bodies of work, including Boys, Guns, Etc and Ritalin (the winning image illustrated above); and the last year’s winner was the talented Jenny Hodge (the winning image illustrated below).

As more photographic portraits have marched through the doors of the gallery today, I am thrilled to witness that in my own modest way I am contributing to the continuous discourse on portraiture in contemporary art and photography. The judging is taking place this weekend, and the awards will be announced and presented on Sunday afternoon. I can’t wait to see who the judges choose as the next recipient of my little portraiture award. Good luck to all!!!

[© Eugene Barilo von Reisberg 2011. Where applicable, images are courtesy of the artists and their galleries.]

“An Object of Beauty”

Tuesday, 18 October 2011

I can’t believe it has been nearly four months since my last entry… I was offered quite unexpectedly a tutorial position at the University of Melbourne. It included three tutorials per week, plus an occasional lecture. I hesitated momentarily, but then took to it like duck to water. It is incredible to be paid for something that I truly enjoy – talking with people about art for hours on end…

It did however, put a temporary (I hope) kibosh on my gallery outings, for on top of my work, study, volunteering, and social commitments, it barely left any time for my usual Saturday afternoon gallery drags and weekend getaways to regional art centres. Weekday evenings are likewise spent in front of the computer, preparing for lectures and tutorials, meeting thesis deadlines, and volunteering fragments of my Winterhalter research to auction houses, galleries, and private collectors… rather then sipping a chilled glass of sparkling at yet another exhibition opening.

On Monday, a student of mine (oh, how unbelievable does that sound!?!?) offered to loan me a book to read. Bearing in mind several lectures, three more tutorials, and the looming PhD Confirmation deadline, I immediately inquired if I could have it for at least three weeks. I opened the first page on board of a rattling tram on my way home. I finished it within 48 hours…

The book in question is Steve Martin’s An Object of Beauty. The narrative centres around Lacey Yeager, who negotiates her way around the New York art world, starting her career in the early 1990s as a humble cataloguer of second- and third-rate pictures in the dens of Sotheby’s; moving over to work as a dealer’s assistant; and eventually opening her own gallery. The style and narrative are very reminiscent of Jacqueline Susann’s Valley of the Dolls, as Martin’s book is similarly filled with sex, glamour, gossip, scandal, and alcohol – though admittedly with much less drugs than in Susann’s novel!

Martin’s passion and interest in the arts is evident through the detailed attention he pays to artists, yet not in a preachy and self-indulgent way as Alan Hollinghurst’s multi-page soliloquies about musicians in The Line of Beauty, but in short, tight, and sharp observations that immediately inform the reader about the artists, their works, their varying styles, and career highlights. The range of artists is quite broad – James Tissot, Maxfield Parrish, Milton Avery, Willem de Kooning, Rockwell Kent, Giorgio Morandi, Andy Warhol, Robert Gober, Maurizio Cattelan, Richard Serra, Joseph Beuys, Dorothea Tanning, and numerous others, all seamlessly woven into the general narrative of the story.

The book is also entertainingly fascinating for its frank, often sardonic, yet always sympathetic insight into the modus operandi of New York’s auction houses, commercial galleries, dealers, and art collectors. The changing art scene, the shift from Modern to Contemporary, sharp escalation in prices, as well as such historical events as 9/11 and the GFC are also masterfully interwoven in the narrative.

Within the last pages of the book, Martin presciently observes about changing attitudes in the contemporary art market following the financial downturn [280-6]: “Art as an aesthetic principle was supported by thousands of years of discernment and psychic rewards, but art as a commodity was held up by air. The loss of confidence that affected banks and financial instruments was now affecting cherubs, cupids, and flattened popes. The objects had not changed: what was there before was there after. But a vacancy was created when the clamouring crowds deserted and retrenched. Art magazines and auction catalogues thinned. Darwinism swept through Chelsea, killing off a few species, and only the ones with the long neck that could reach the leaves at the tops of the trees survived.… [The art collectors] rehung their entire collections, placing into deep storage objects that the new, dismal market shouted they had overpaid for, and pulling out more classic objects,… bought when the prices were sensible.”

I am certain this observation is most applicable to the current state of affairs on Australian shores.

[© Eugene Barilo von Reisberg 2011. Where applicable, images are courtesy of the artists and their galleries.]