You can listen to outgoing director Edmund Capon by downloading one of his audio guides to the Art Gallery of NSW. But to hear what he's really saying, visit Picasso: Masterpieces from the Musée National Picasso, Paris. The Musée National Picasso is one of the lushest collections of Picasso's work in the world. Its appealing building, almost as appealing as the artwork itself, is closed for renovations for the next two years. So a sizeable chunk of its collection is on the move. Having just finished a Taiwanese engagement, it's taking on Sydney as a summer home. The show promises to cover all of Picasso's highly varied styles and periods — 'blue', 'rose', Expressionist, Cubist, Neoclassical and Surrealist. Picasso collections tend to see his styles travel backwards in time, from the rose and blue periods' powerful realism, to arrive at his famous rough-brushed, cubist strokes. Realism came easily to Picasso, but the seemingly simpler stuff was the real work. He's said to have said "when I was just a child, I could already draw like Raphael, but it took me a whole lifetime to learn to draw like a child." And as Paris comes to Sydney, you too can get overwhelmed by some of his child-like wonder. Picasso: Masterpieces from the Musée National Picasso opens in November, but timed-entry tickets are already on sale, and are likely to fill quickly. Image via Jean-Gilles Berizzi and Réunion des Musées Nationaux.
The conditions and motivations under which we build buildings has a long and serpentine history. As we all know we have built, and build, for a choir of reasons; shelter and survival, history, pleasure, tourism and entertainment, the desire to reach an ideal (utopia), money, development, a growing population, lifestyle, symbolism...it's a list that seems unbounded by the highest of walls. Given that we've all been in buildings before, it's not being silly to say that we all possess an intimate and brilliant knowledge of architecture. This year's Sydney Architecture Festival takes a broad and varied look at architecture and our relationship to it, offering a collection of talks, tours, exhibitions and workshops for those wanting to explore and think about the built environment. Occurring over 10 days, some highlights include an exhibition of previously unseen Max Dupain photographs, an exhibition at the Goethe-Institut of the German Modernist Bruno Taut, Sydney architecture walks and tours, and the Expanded Architecture exhibition on show at Carriage Works. A little civilization of events will be held in venues throughout the city including Customs House, Tusculum, the Museum of Sydney, the State Library, Object Gallery, Government House Sydney and the Powerhouse Museum.
There's a long history of animals in art. From long-haired lapdogs to doe-eyed cows, artists use animals as metaphor, scenery or the excuse to show off some flash technique. It's less common to take them part by part, but at Monstrosity Gallery in Woolloomooloo they're doing just that — gathering local Sydney artists together for show on the theme of Fur. While some people get deep into fur, Monstrosity's show remains meaning-agnostic, with an open call for entries letting artists interpret the theme as they will. The results will go on display in the gallery in a group show launching on Wednesday evening. The exhibition ran an open call for entries, but the selection should include the sketch-animating Novocastrian Todd Fuller, the primordial work of Kathy Leung and Yulia Pustoshkina's leering animal world. Also showing will be the day-glo dread of Gerald Leung's work, Puberty Blues star and video artist Nell Schofield and the work of exhibition curator West herself. So while the theme of the show may only be skin deep, the work on show promises to snatch at depths that shaggy follicles don't reach. Fur launches at 6pm Wednesday night. They gallery is closed Mondays and Tuesdays. Painted image by Yulia Pustoshkina.
If you have not heard the name Pina Bausch yet, you will certainly know this dance visionary quite intimately by the end of the 2011 Spring Dance at the Sydney Opera House. Not only is Wim Wenders releasing a film dedicated to her (in 3D) this month, but Spring Dance is also hosting a trilogy of celebratory sessions in her honour. As well as showcasing the exquisite Belgian company Les Ballets C de la B's Out of Context - for Pina. Bausch's practice of dance theatre is a good touchstone for the majority of the works curated for this season. Returning to Australia for the first time in ten years, British company DV8 combine transcripts from interviews and documentary footage with their explosive dance style to create Can We Talk About This?, an exploration into the many faces of censorship. On a more intimate level is Ros Warby's Monumental, in which she single-footedly unpacks the ballet icons of the swan and the soldier. The theatrical is also very much in plain sight in Fevered Sleep's The Forest, which takes young audiences into the wooden in-between world that lies far beyond urban borders. Finally, playing for Australia is Chunky Move's I Like This, and their dance about a dance demonstrates the manner in which all of these more theatrical performances may have been choreographed. While there are many different styles and practices represented in this Spring Dance, it is clear that this season is a showcase of dance that has moved far from the constraints of tradition, but without losing any of the precision or skill required by the form. https://youtube.com/watch?v=05N_N5coYFI Image by Chris Van der Burght
The interwar years in Europe were a remarkable time, not least in Germany, where a new democratic Republic arose from the ashes of the First World War, replacing the old monarchy, and exploding with utopian ideas and a never-before-experienced freedom of expression. The artistic and intellectual developments of this period helped to lay the foundations of modernity as we know it, and it’s no coincidence that the movement is referred to collectively, as modernism. The Mad Square - Modernity in German Art 1910–37 brings together over 200 works of art from the modernist period to the AGNSW and, short of buying a plane ticket to Europe, this may be your only chance to see an exhibition of this calibre. Covering the Expressionism, Dada, Constructivism, Bauhaus and New Objectivity, it features artists such as Max Beckmann, Otto Dix, George Grosz, Hannah Höch and El Lissitzky. The accompanying Berlin Sydney programme of events running alongside is quite astonishing in its breadth and depth, and offers a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see some of the most pivotal art works of the twentieth century in the context of the culture and society from which they emerged. Do not miss out.
Georges Bataille, French writer, librarian and the 'metaphysician of evil' once wrote, "pleasure only starts once the worm has gotten into the fruit". But couldn't we safely say, with all the porny flotsam and jetsam floating around online, that all the worms in all the fruit have already been seen, grazed over, or digested? Not so according Brenda May Gallery, whose current exhibition Lust brings together a parcel of artists all focusing on the inner-catacoumbs of desire, sexuality, taboo, libidinous longing and any other synonyms you can think of. Featuring: Crispin Akerman, Julie Bartholomew, Bernice Davies, Leah Emery, Todd Fuller, Dan Gladden, James Guppy, Klaus Gutowski, Garth Knight, Daniel Linnet, Julian Meagher, Sarah O'Sullivan, Morgan Shimeld, Jane Siddall and Terry Stringer.
Angela Lane’s work is Armageddon writ small. Her paintings capture a sense of impending doom and vast emptiness, even the ones that are less than 10cms across. By using the imagery of miniaturist landscapes from 15th and 16th century Netherlands, when the Dutch saw man’s failing relationship with God in the hardships of the Eighty Years War, Lane has transformed the antiquated concerns of medieval Europe into something startlingly modern. As the natural world seems to become less and less able to support the lives that we’ve built, the foreboding in Lane’s work seems not only spiritual but desperately practical. Where Dutch artists contrasted peaceful images of the infant Christ with ravaged battlefields and the toil of everyday life, it seemed as if to illustrate just what we were missing. Lane is even less forgiving, seeing our sins as against the landscape itself. The figures in her haunted world scrabble around naked, doom written in every brushstroke. The places they inhabit are not metaphors for loss, they are what has been lost. Waiting for the Fall shows us an uncertain future in lovely, disquieting glimpses. Image: Angela Lane
Neither insurgent nor collaborator, Picasso kept painting in occupied Paris. He wrote Desire Captured by the Tail, a play staged in an apartment and directed by Albert Camus. Damiano Bertoli's Continuous Moment: Anxiety Villa at Artspace draws inspiration from the play, its art splayed across an abstract moment. Thick cross-hatched lines occupy the floor of the piece, a picnic is unwrapped in one corner and a slender dummy stands with a thin mirror for leg. In the background images play untethered from their sound. It feels like a dreamspace from a surreal movie of the sixties; a drawing exercise sprung to life on an infinite plane. At the other end of the gallery, Justene Williams Hot Air Hillbilly Weekend Workshop features a wall of TVs, looping scenes of a paper-covered yellow-pink creature ambling around a papered room. The creature makes a cacophany of light and colour to go with the dazzle and sound of ethereal tv-glow, which dominates the room. The theme of the work is anti-consumerist, but the work itself grabs your eye with a short Gruen all its own. Meiro Koizumi's Voice of a dead hero draws on a letter from Toshio Anazawa — a Kamikaze Pilot — to his one-time fiancé Chieko, full of love and regret. From rough focused images of pedestrians, Meiro's Toshio emerges in an out-of-focus world clutching his face, like a soldier slipping out from a fog. His frantic, laboured breathing covers all other sounds on the streets and subways of Tokyo, as he walks to a shrine for the war dead. He calls for Cheiko. Meiro's Theatre Dreams Again of a Beautiful Afternoon features two screens showing either side of the inside of a Tokyo train carriage. A man in a business suit breaks down one one side, a woman watches him from the other. There is only one problem: each side of the train is going in opposite directions. Still image from Voice of a Dead Hero by Meiro Koizumi.
Water is life. No dispute. 71% of the Earth is covered by it. 85% of our bodies are composed of it. But as the ocean continues to rise and droughts pose greater and greater threats, our relationship with this semi-transparent liquid will undoubtedly change. Two photojournalists who are fascinated by the human relationship with water, and the labour, recreation and movements that happen in and around it, are Lisa Maree Williams and Tracey Nearmy. Flow situates these two award winning photographers together, exhibiting vibrant, colourful and honest photographs of a life lived by the sea. While the photographs are by no means overbearing or preachy, they make a subtle argument to our eyes as to why water is so appealing and so fundamentally precious.
Pouring performance, film and music into one licensed venue for a tiny three day festival seems like a recipe for either disaster or roaring success. Last year's inaugural Home Brew Festival, a bluesy riot of original theatre and boutique beer, was the latter. Given the pedigree, we have reason to be optimistic about its upcoming sequel. From this Thursday to Saturday, the Old Fitzroy Hotel and Theatre will hold the aptly named Home Brew Festival #2. The line-up boasts music from Cash Savage and the Last Drinks and Sleeve Merry, as well as performances from Tin Shed, Mel Matheson, Mime is Money, Time Spencer and award-winning playwright Caleb Lewis.
Drums are the world's oldest musical instrument, though they are constantly underappreciated. Their full awesomeness is only realised when they're laying down the rhythm for other instruments, and they're not allowed at band practice because you can't restrain their sonic power without using those lame pads. Your average stage set-up banishes the drums to the back corners of the stage and — being an instrument that requires hard physical work — they're usually teamed with the largest, hairiest, sweatiest member of the band. Sydney-based multi-creative Max Doyle is bringing drums out of the back corners of the stage in his latest project, aptly titled 'Drums'. Being a musician himself — Doyle fronts local drone-pop band Songs when he's not shooting Vogue covers, publishing Doingbird, making films or coaching girls' soccer — he's paying his dues to the ubiquitous percussion tool by documenting how a drum kit survives the thrashings and dripping man sweat of a gig. The drums kits in the photographs were taken while Doyle was on tour with Songs last year, each picture snapped moments before the band performed. The opening night of the exhibition also featured solo work by local drummers Nick Norton, Alex Gilles and Susie Patten, who kept partial nudity and excessive sweating to a gallery-friendly minimum. Image: The Workers Club Melb, Max Doyle, 2009
Canada, oh Canada, a land of wide plains, challenging mountains, great falls, eclectic cities, clashing cultures and comedians who are claimed by the US authorities; is it any wonder that this country deserves its own film festival? Punching a sixth notch in its moose leather belt, Possible Worlds hits Sydney this month with twenty features and five shorts spread amongst Dendy Opera Quays, the Factory Theatre and the Australian Museum. Given that Canada is a country that jumps from ocean to ocean, it's no surprise that the films on offer reveal many alternate views of the Great White North. By no means is the following a definitive list of the 'best' of the festival, but these are certainly films that have grabbed my attention. The Festivalists have cleverly chosen to open proceedings with a screening of Score: A Hockey Musical, which keeps no secrets in its title. Featuring Olivia Newton-John and gallons of youthful exuberance, Score cheekily doffs its helmet to one of Canada's biggest passions. Pontypool hikes festival-goers over to the infection horror genre, with an intelligent twist that involves a zombie-like virus spreading through language, while existentialism gives birth to the filmic riddle that is You Are Here. Taking a route amongst more down-to-earth matters are the documentaries Kinngait (about the Inuit arts capital) and Force of Nature, a film biography of David Suzuki. Broken Social Scene fans can dance away in This Movie is Broken, which tosses a romantic interlude amongst a BSS concert. Actually, it's quite hard to just choose a few films from the Possible Worlds line up - the Festivalists have themselves a program that will compel you to live in the cinema for two weeks.
Airlines set you a challenge every time you fly: see how much of your life you can fit into a single suitcase. One flat-packed or rucksacked case to take you round the world, interstate, or just for you to stuff full of travel goodies when taking yourself back to where you came from. Chippendale venue Serial Space has put together a similar challenge for its upcoming Suitcase Market, where vendors are can sell whatever they want, as long as it's legal and fits in a suitcase. Drawing inspiration from Brisbane's Suitcase Rummage, it brings a version of the "no hassle, no fuss" market down here to our local stashes of rare finds and weird tchotchkes. The market is old school: you don't have to buy and sell. Swapping things from one case to another is looked on favourably as well. Buyers can just turn up on the day, sellers should have registered by August 15. So if you've got a cupboard full of old dresses, new toys, strange art, stranger knick-knacks, or just an empty suitcase waiting to be filled, take your luggage down and put your cash on the nail. Image by David Jackmanson.
At Any Cost?, the latest production from acclaimed Australian playwright David Williamson (Don's Party), tackles the emotive and controversial topic of euthanasia. The practice is illegal in most countries, yet I think the majority of us would agree that there are times when prolonging a person's life just because we can actually means just prolonging their suffering. The play centres around a family in a hospital waiting room, the mother lying gravely ill in intensive care. The question on everyone's minds is whether the time has come to let nature take its course, given the seriousness of her condition and the likely extremely poor quality of the life she would have, should she survive. For the husband, Des (Martin Vaughan), there is no doubt in his mind: He will not let go of the woman he loves, and for whom he has also been caring these last few years since she suffered a debilitating stroke. The children — Megan (Tracy Mann), Katie (Kate Raison) and Max (Tyler Coppin) — are able to evaluate the situation a little more rationally than their father. The tension is augmented as the duty doctor, Dr Sharif (Daniel Mitchell), drops by frequently to keep the family updated, gently suggesting the alternative of ceasing treatment. Family dynamics soon begin to come to the fore as skeletons are pulled out of closets and bombshells dropped, and it descends into a quite intense family drama. Dr Sharif is also used as a device between scenes, to distance the audience from the emotion being displayed on stage. As he lectures an imaginary class of medical students (us, the audience), he dryly hands out facts and figures around the cost of care, such as that it requires $50,000 dollars to keep someone alive in intensive care for a week and pointing out to us that "we offer care because we can, but seldom ask if we should." The acting throughout is superb on all counts and it is a very enjoyable play, both moving and served with a decent side of comedy. The interludes from Dr Sharif are thought-provoking and often funny, if a little shocking at times, making us think about the realities of keeping people alive long beyond their "use by date". However, overall, it possibly focuses a little too heavily on the family drama playing out in the waiting room at the expense of the subject at hand, euthanasia, thus rendering its didactic potential less powerful.
There's this feeling sometimes in Sydney that's not unlike the vast nothing inside atoms. Despite the apparent solidity of its sandstone buildings, vertical offices, parks and sunny lanes, the city hides a labyrinth of empty spaces waiting to be filled. Throughout the year festivals, small bars, casual cafes and delivery vans cram in to try to top up those voids with dance, food or clever art. Graffiti aside, though, few things focus as much on filling up Sydney's quiet corners as the public art festival, Art & About. This year's season opens with an invitation to explore all the art's debut evening on the streets at Friday Night Live, with acts like Paul Mac and Fourplay accompanying your ramble, and museums staying up late with you. Laneway Art returns with a distinct lounge vibe, hosting bike-wheeled cinema-screens, outdoor furniture and some tricks with mirrors. City street banners will be co-opted for What If?, while Michael Landy's meditation on public civility will also lay itself across the CBD in Acts of Kindness. The giant images of annual outdoor photography exhibition Sydney Life are joined in Hyde Park this year by its junior counterpart Little Sydney Lives. Circus Maximus' audience-hugging horns, House's foray into the dark art of the Historic Houses Trust and an expedition to the Paris of 1911 help round out the month-long season, as part of the Festival's extensive list of umbrella events. Large or small, there's plenty in this year's Art and About there to electrify an empty day. Photograph of Australia Square by Brent M V Wintstone.
Nestled in the seemingly peaceful, suburban atmosphere of Woolloomooloo is a installation work that evokes the tensions of history underlying this newly gentrified suburb, while pointing towards the possibility of an apocalyptic future. The installation is a site, frozen in time; a kind of archeological dig evidencing the last stand of humanity against the collapse of the world we now know. Located in a vacant lot roughly behind Artspace, reaching the installation takes a bit of detective work. The site is strangely eerie, barely marked as 'art', with its components open to the elements. It might perhaps be the last moment at the 'End of Time' and the only pitiful evidence of human existence. The title of this work draws on New World Order conspiracy theories and is a specific reference to a speech made by George W. Bush in 1990. While some reference points are more extreme, such as the survivalist movement, the main thrust of Michael Goldberg's work speaks to common environmental concerns, particularly global warming, and economic concerns, capitalist greed and the abuse of resources - concerns which have additional resonance in this place which has known such a troubled past. Image: Toward A New World Order, site installation view, 56-58 Nicholson Street, Woolloomooloo, Sydney, 2011
Vasily Grossman's stark epic Life and Fate has no moral, according to the novelist who introduces its latest printing, Linda Grant. Instead, it has nothing more to say than "instinctive kindness, whatever the consequences, is what makes us human." Fellow Brit Michael Landy had already taken this sentiment to heart when he decorated the London Tube with his great work focused on local kindnesses. Now Kaldor Public Art Projects have brought him over here to put together a Sydney version as part of Art and About. And while the art may be foreign, the Acts of Kindness are all home-grown. Behind the cenotaph in Martin Place, Landy has laid out a giant map of Sydney's CBD, seemingly hand drawn on a giant white jigsaw. Each piece owns a counterpart somewhere around the city that has a story stuck onto it. Stories about moments where kindness barged itself small or large into sombody's life. Landy spent months recceing his urban canvas by collecting stories from Sydney to fix to the pieces. His approach is as crowd-sourced as Wikipedia's editing system, but with his last dramatic step from abstract geocoordinates to tangible places, he steps from the aesthetic into a connection with a city you'd thought you already known.
Normally when the middle of the year hits — when Australia's weather is at its frostiest, aptly — the annual Scandinavian Film Festival rolls into cinemas around the country. In Sydney and Melbourne in 2021, that timing coincided with lengthy lockdowns, so the fest is bringing back its Nordic noir-heavy lineup for another spin before the year is out. Actually, the Scandinavian Film Festival Sydney run didn't even get to go ahead back in July, while Melbourne's was interrupted by stay-at-home stints. In both cities, the event will now help see out spring and welcome summer with a heap of films from Denmark, Finland, Iceland, Sweden and Norway. Sure, the warm weather won't make you think of cold Nordic climes, but the on-screen lineup is still impressive. Kicking off on Tuesday, November 23 in Sydney and Friday, November 26 on Melbourne, the returning 2021 fest launches with a must-see new entry in the Scandi-noir genre. Hailing from Denmark, opening night's Wildland stars Sidse Babette Knudsen (Borgen, Westworld) as the head of a family crime syndicate. She's charged with looking after her teenage niece and, in a movie that instantly brings Australia's own Animal Kingdom to mind, the latter soon learns more about the family business. Also on this year's Scandinavian Film Festival lineup: Knudsen again in Copenhagen-set psychological thriller The Exception; masterful and engaging Norwegian film Disco, about an evangelical dance champion who finds her faith tested; and surreal mother-daughter drama Psychosis in Stockholm. Or, for fans of Nordic cinema's big names, relationship drama Hope co-stars Stellan Skarsgård (Chernobyl), musical comedy A Piece of My Heart sees Swedish-born actor Malin Akerman (Rampage) back on home turf, and The County hails from Icelandic filmmaker Grímur Hákonarson — who directed Rams, which was remade in Australia last year. Other highlights include Icelandic box office hits Agnes Joy and The Last Fishing Trip, the latter of which has been compared to The Hangover; Finnish biopics Helene and Tove, about painter Helene Schjerfbeck and visual artist and author Tove Jansson, respectively; and Tigers, which tells the true tale of former Inter Milan player Martin Bengtsson. Or, there's also Diana's Wedding, which isn't actually about that Diana — plus closing night's 50th anniversary-screening of The Emigrants starring Max von Sydow and Liv Ullmann. The Scandinavian Film Festival will screen at Sydney's Palace Norton, Palace Central and Chauvel Cinemas from November 23–December 15 and at Melbourne's Palace Balwyn, Palace Brighton Bay, Palace Cinema Como, Palace Westgarth, The Kino and Pentridge Cinema from November 26–December 15. For the full program, visit the festival website.
As with those who drop the 'F-bomb’ on radio, those who utter a different F-word — feminism — should still perhaps expect a few dismissals from those within earshot. But why is this so? Is 'feminism' really so dirty a word? To shed some light, this March the Sydney Opera House, as part of its Ideas At The House program, will play host to an afternoon of fierce and exciting debate about the state of feminism, featuring Germaine Greer and Naomi Wolf — two of the movement’s most audacious and influential avatars. While the spirit of the first wave shines-on, the focus of feminist critique has probably changed a little over the last decade. Sex and gender discrimination can be tougher to conceptualise when they crop-up in unfamiliar, newly global, locales. Consider Wolf’s observation of a few months back that the riot police involved in stymieing the US Occupy movement seemingly targeted women in their brutish crackdowns of last year. For feminists like Wolf and Greer, today’s feminist debate is as much about geopolitics as gender-politics. The day itself will see Greer and Wolf deliver separate lecture presentations, following which they will together be joined by a debate panel featuring international journalist/poet Eliza Griswold, SlutWalk Melbourne organiser Clem Bastow, and human rights activist Samah Hadid. Tickets to each of the lectures and to the final debate panel are sold separately, or together at a discount, so you may pick and choose what to attend according to your interest, or you may attend all three. If you’re at all interested in women’s rights, or in the insights offered by its champions, these three events present an uncommon opportunity to hear from those at the front, to speak your mind, and to nourish your political wits.
Guaranteed to darken the brightest of days (albeit in one of those achingly artistic, ‘wow, that was so clever, wasn’t it?’ type of ways), comes Martha Marcy May Marlene by Sean Durkin, a 29 year-old American who executed this directorial debut so courageously that it scored him Sundance’s Best Director award last year. Be warned: using the term dark is totally sugar-coating the shadows this film casts, which linger long (like days, in all seriousness) after the credits have rolled. Centered around a young woman who is returning to life after escaping a cult, the story offers a warts-and-all look into the fragility of the human psyche. Martha, played by girl-of-the-moment Elizabeth Olsen (a worthy tag given this alarmingly convincing first-time performance), struggles to adjust to the world her sister and British husband live in. She sees barely any sense in clothing and seeks comfort in their love-making, snuggling up beside the couple mid-going at it. But that’s really all we see of the world Martha is attempting to reconnect with. Everything else Durkin offers up is straight out of Martha’s mind: an utterly confused, helplessly empty universe. Her warped state of being is so brilliantly brought to life that viewers won’t know whether or not what they’re watching is real. And that’s the most terrifying part. Sure, the cult looks pretty freaky. We switch from the ‘real’ world to Martha’s memories of her cult buddies throughout the entire film. Those cult kids are full of slow head-tilts, vacant stares and unnecessary smirks, and they get up to plenty of weird mischief. But it’s Martha’s inability to separate her nightmares from reality that really put her in danger. And when our protagonist isn’t sure about anything, who on earth are we to rely on? Durkin’s masterful use of suspense deserves a nod from the Academy, for real. John Hawkes, who plays the cult’s leader, deserves props of the similar variety for his scary-as-shit blend of charming and terrorising. But most of all, the pairing of Olsen and Durkin just seems to click. Could we have here yet another muse-director relationships of cult appeal? Perhaps. But please, don’t use that word with me ever again.
There's a familiar sound, but unfamiliar words. Photographer Matthew Niederhauser had given up on the local Beijing rock scene until a night at a uni bar in 2007 changed his mind. Captivated by the new music on show, he started documenting China's capital's emerging music scene against a distinctive red background. The new authority-agnostic sounds he heard have since had their images compiled into the book Sound Kapital: Beijing's Music Underground. To offer some louder Chinese New Year sounds than Sydney's usually accustomed to, Carriageworks is bringing us this taste of sweaty, Sino-rock in a night of music at Sound Kapital. Niederhaurser himself will launch the pre-show with a free 6pm talk before the headliners get on stage to educate your ears. The bands will stand safe in a projected blanket of Niederhauser's photos of Beijing's underground, the evening's line up featuring Sex Bob-omb-like AV Okubo, the mellow abstraction of Xiao He and Helen Feng 's poppy, solo facet, Nova Heart. Loud, yes. But a great way ease yourself into with this year's dalliance with the dragon. For a chance to win one of ten double passes to Sound Kapital, just make sure you are subscribed to Concrete Playground then email hello@concreteplayground.com.au by noon on Thursday, February 2. Image: Nova Heart.
At the moment of writing, the world holds its breath on the edge of financial ruin. At the centre of the storm is Italy's Prime Minister, Silvio Berlusconi, whose attempts at financial governance have been mired by his scandals, many of which seem to involve him with much, much younger women. It makes for a strange time to be watching Ages of Love, an Italian comedy about older men falling in love with women twenty years their junior. Third in the Manual of Love series, these three short films get linked by a common block of apartments, progressive epochs of 'youth', 'adulthood' and 'beyond' and a Cupid (Emanuele Propizio) wielding a steel hunting-bow. The young Roberto (Riccardo Scamarcio) chooses between a commitment-free lover and his wife-to-be Sara (Valeria Solarino), vain newscaster Favio (Carlo Verdone) finds his undoing in a surprise fling with admirer Eliana (Donatella Finoochiaro), while the recipient of a heart transplant (Robert De Niro) encounters a lover for his autumn years in appealing, Bronx-tinted Italian. De Niro's turn as the older Adrian proves to be one of the highlights of the film, as he performs a short strip tease for his lover Viola (Monica Bellucci). Wrinkled and sinewy, the scene allows him to be old without being decrepit. Cupping his hands over his bare heart scars as though they were a kind of nakedness, he is vulnerable and clumsy. But the film is seriously short on women's perspectives. A problem, as each of the women get dealt the stronger parts in the stories. Sara takes some time to ponder her upcoming wedding, Eliana deals with mental illness while loving the wrong man and Viola, living a lie, finds unexpected gentleness with De Niro. Told instead by the men, the stories lose a lot of their power, leaving as ordinary what could have been far more compelling moments of modern Italian love.
A few years ago Miles O’Neil came across a box of old Super 8 home movies at a Melbourne garage sale. In his first solo show, opening at the Old Fitz, this found footage acts as the backdrop to a selection of songs, impersonations and stories taken from Miles’ life. Nostalgia, according to Mad Men’s Don Draper, is Greek for “the pain from an old wound” and this show captures that bittersweet feeling perfectly. Miles recounts and reenacts conversations he’s had with cabbies, couriers and mechanics about love, cars and the essentials of happiness (cheese is important, apparently) It’s an excellent show but a hard one to describe. It would be tempting to call it a “gentle comedy”, because the whir of the super 8 projector dictates it’s own steady pace and the comedy is inclusive and warm as opposed to cruel. But “gentle comedy” has come to mean code for boring or bad. It is also technically musical comedy, a term which is even more fraught with bad connotations. I would say that it is funny, beautifully written, heartfelt and masterful. When so many other comedians are drenched in irony it takes a certain type of tight rope walker to make a show this sincere and genuine without tipping over into being twee or embarrassingly earnest. It’s a comedy with a lot more depth than we’ve come to expect.
Sydney seems to have a bit of a soft spot for Texas. We tend to think a taco isn’t really Mexican unless it’s had a Tex-Mex melted cheese makeover, and there are apparently enough of us willing to cram into a 747 for 15 hours and 25 minutes to fly straight into the Lone Star state. We are also pretty obsessed with Texas band Okkervil River, but this probably has less to do with the fact that they’re from Texas and more to do with the fact that their music is lyrical genius. No, really, it is. Guitarist, vocalist and visionary pessimist Will Sheff has been commissioned to pen his thoughts for Dave Eggers’ publishing house McSweeney’s, the band got their name from a Russian short story written by Leo Tolstoy’s great-grand-niece, and their songs sound like short stories themselves. Short stories shrouded in a turbulent blend of country, folk and rock. Their latest album I Am Very Far is arguably the best example of the band’s music standing up to Sheff’s ambitious lyrics, and one of the best things to come out of Texas since Shiner Hefeweizen beer. Don't miss them at the Metro this Tuesday.
Collaboration is a fleeting thing. Gunning the creative engine so both muses fire to the same rhythm doesn't always catch, even if you have all the right parts in the right place. In the shadow of the city-wide laneway art projects around town, six street artists have braved joint artistry to fill up one of the laneways down the side of the Galeries. The narrow corridor will become a permanent home to art under the moniker of Lane Four, with its first show, Transient, an aMBUSH curated mash up of Sydney artists. Three oversized panels along the wall of Lane Four's airy hanging space each mix the styles of two matching artists. A calm Beastman creature is paired with a Phibbs three-colour face, Numskull's cellular geometry with Jumbo's leaky bird men and Max Berry's floating figures to complement Mark Alsweiler's naturalistic renderings. The results are large-scale works that seem to expand with dreams of colour, fauna and open plains. Lane Four is far from Sydney's only micro-gallery, but sitting on top of Town Hall station and easily discovered by a stray glance, it may prove to be the most accessible. Image by Jumbo and Numskull.
There is a rather abstruse but very distinct cultural 'thing' whereby at the opening of an art show one is, despite the drinking and chatting aspect, being some kind of extra-civilised above and beyond the being-at-a-bar-with-your-friends modality. But now Diana Smith (you may know her from Brown Council) has gone and ruined that a bit by creating a functioning Dart Game as an exhibition. She does, however, redeem herself by having the handpainted board reference hard-edge abstraction, so you the art thing comes somewhat back into effect. Tega Brain goes real-world-referential in her exhibition, too, by bringing domesticity (laundry) and environmental awareness (water conservation) into play in Coin-Operated Wetland. Ever wanted to do your laundry in an art gallery but been too shy about relational aesthetics to ask? Here's your chance! The third exhibition on show is Karla Dickens' Home is where the rabbits live. In her signature collage-based paintings and installation and video works made in collaboration with Nils Crompton, Dickens depicts the presence of rabbits and Rabbitohs in the Redfern of her childhood in a reflection on community and belonging and the ways in which spirituality can be approached.
Sydney Dance Company artistic director Rafael Bonachela has established himself as a leader in contemporary dance choreography, and this performance is a representation of that. The storyline of The Land of Yes and the Land of No captures how our chaotic world is so crowded with signs, directions and instructions on such a large scale that overwhelmed people miss all of them as they go about their lives. The beauty of the performance is that it clearly highlights that at different times everybody goes through the same feeling of isolation within a busy, crowded world, and though we may sometimes feel alienated, people will always come to our assistance. The particular collection of dancers from the SDC form a very attractive cohort indeed. Their attire may not be pointe shoes and tutus, but it's a perfect fit for the production regardless: bare feet and simple white outfits. Although all unique in styling, they were obviously linked to each other through a repeated use of fabric and pleating. This choice in wardrobe worked well for the performance, as it again highlighted the link between humans despite their differences. The large number of fluorescent light bulbs arranged on stage would not look out of place in a Daft Punk or Justice concert but add an interesting, youthful element to an otherwise plain stage. Throughout the show there's a level of anticipation to see how the light changes relate to the scene ahead, as they occur prior to dancers entering. The performance opens with a blackout, and then from the light bulbs, a single doorframe emerges. The first dancer on stage is a lone female whose solo to a quiet classical piece represents a struggle with living in this century. Shortly after, a male companion with the task of 'saving her' joins her on stage. There are clearly two different levels of choreography that Bonachela has created for the piece, as after the slow beginning, a larger number of lights are turned on, the music becomes more dominating and a larger cohort enters the stage. Throughout the show, these two levels continually alternate, but the sections where either all or the majority of dancers were on stage were my favourites; the choreography very cleverly highlights how everybody goes about their life doing the same activities without generally noticing each other. The Land of Yes and the Land of No is worth seeing, as it addresses some very current and universal themes about the way society is conducting itself and the detriment it is doing to humans. It's a lecture on humanity, in dance form.
Two of Gaffa's galleries are taken up at the moment by a single group show, Somewhere They Can't Find Me. In Dream Horse, Isabel Watt depicts a unicorn with felty pink hair, charcoal shadows, a sad eye and a pillowy texture. Her other drawings show unicorns stepping onto planes, a plane caught in deer antlers and stand offs with hummingbird or jellyfish. Her paintings are surreal, but with a vibe that's far more exploratory than dream-like. A series of tiny Japanese inspired red and pink squares nearby lay out her picaresques of snow monkeys, happy ramen and understated moments on the street. The highlight of Nana Sakata's showings are her fabulous ink drawings. Meticulously plotted in tiny dots, they paint out dappled scenes of shadow puppets - larking rabbits, happy shades and vomiting deer. Later, she introduces her ink silhouettes to luscious blue cumulus, voluptuous green paint and an endless blue sea of cloud. Her creatures live an active life of childlike imagination, with eyes owning an aura of revelation. Seemingly free of danger, their existence seems nonetheless arduous. Anna Stenekes' paintings, meanwhile, sketch birds, cats and dogs on a large scale. Two 'chocolate boxes' take her abstraction to a strong, clean and shaded aesthetic. Zombie Mash Up is more mashup than zombie. Kathryn Cowen's Zombie Mamma and the Night Bandit have the aura of a zombie flick underlaid by fifties science, her paintings a luminescent twenties pallet. Emma Cummings' TV India plots out Bollywood chic with bold shadows rippling on the surface and in Natalya Shinn's Kinder Mash Up plastic animals with the texture of boiled sweets sit in matchboxes, peeking out at classical statuary death match opponents. Each pair of nemeses have the same colour, and on paper, the feuding pairs are painted in clashing colours as statues, like the Winged Victory of Samothrace, stand off against casual fauna. The animals are completely non-plussed, scoring victory by disinterest. Images by Nana Sakata and Emma Cummings.
Sydney cycling has come a long way. It used to be a smoggy, niche activity elbowing its way through aggressive traffic, trying to come to terms with how such a beautiful city can be so hilly. While these things are all still there, now Sydney also has long-delayed bike lanes across the CBD, regular free defensive riding lessons, a Newtown bike library holding fort until the inevitable bike share scheme arrives and even plans for a cyclist change room in Taylor Square. And just when you thought that the City of Sydney couldn't get any more Amsterdam in its love of two wheels, flowers and separated bikeways, its gone and started off its own Sydney Rides Festival. The festival is has a quadricep-straining spread across the city's geography, from its bike heavy Greenup in Darlinghurst to the borrow-a-bike sessions in North Sydney and south of the bridge. Free breakfasts for Ride to Work Day also feature under the Harbour Bridge and all over Hyde Park on Wednesday, and any number of flickering nights cohosted by the Sydney Bicycle Film Festival — not the least of which will be Sydney Rides' launch at the Bicycle Film Fest's annual street fair. You can pimp your ride in Ultimo and get the chance to introduce your bike to culture all over town. Image by plugimi.
The Story of Mary MacLane by Mary MacLane was first published in 1902 and was popularly received, selling 100,000 copies in the first month and launching the 19-year-old writer into the fame she so desired. Bojana Novakovic has adapted MacLane's writings into the play The Story of Mary MacLane by Herself, which arrives at Griffin Theatre via Melbourne's Malthouse Theatre under Tanya Goldberg's direction. Novakovic plays Mary as well as herself and is joined on stage by musicians Tim Rogers (who composed the music), Andrew Baylor and Mark Harris. We are introduced to this "wild woman of Butte" as a 19-year-old searching for "fame — ahem, happiness" and follow her to New York, where she encounters varying success both with publications and sexual partners. We leave her in her final hour after a shattering rejection by the Devil — a "fatter and shorter" gentleman caller than she'd expected. The story is presented as a farrago of song, dialogue and confessionals from both MacLane's and Novakovic's personal lives. The theatrical device of MacLane performing in a hammy vaudeville show somewhat against her will is amusing and allows for some humorous interludes; however, it confines the piece to a faux amateurism befitting of Rogers' rock-star acting but not of Novakovic's polished performance. Because of this, the piece never escapes its own subject; it cannot transcend the narcissism of MacLane and Novakovic to comment of the problem of selfhood in a narcissistic society. It seeks our attention more than it hands over insight. The production has humour and charm, the best song written about a potato this decade and is a welcome introduction to a fascinating yet popularly neglected writer, but MacLane's self-professed genius and the philosophy of her "own good peripatetic school" seem to have wandered off somewhere along the way. https://youtube.com/watch?v=4XQxLTrcStM
Now with twice as many allusions to Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland, it might be assumed that those running Sydney's White Rabbit– the huge and exquisite private art gallery reposing in a quiet-for-the-moment Chippendale nook—have a thing for Carroll’s fable. But nay, while White Rabbit is very likely to make one feel very small amid it’s four tall levels of ample art space, its library, teahouse, and theatrette, the gallery’s name actually comes from the idea that a good artwork can ‘leap out.’ And cause, as director Judith Neilson says, ‘serendipity and surprise’. After all, White Rabbit’s not about proto-trippy literature, but about showing striking contemporary art from the East, having been commissioned by the Nielson’s foundation in 2008 to bring to Sydney the best Chinese art produced this side of the millennial turn. With Down The Rabbit Hole, we are cajoled to take a light-trip to China via Taiwan, and then back again. Artist pair LuxuryLogico (not a high-end corporation of logicians, but a set of twin Taiwanese futurists) bear a penchant for repurposing old technologies to create high tech sculptural forms. For this exhibition they’ve put together Solar, which, comprising a couple hundred recycled lamps individually wired and programmed, turns on to create a spate of meaningfully coded, hallucinatory light patterns. The light show continues with Wu Chi-Tsung’s Wire, a sculptural sleight-of-hand made up of mesh wire fabric and a commonplace light projector. The ultimate effect of which is to bring about a shanshui type landscape that moves, breathes and flexes on the wall. At the more material end of the exhibition, Ashley’s Heart by photographer and multimedia artist Wu Daxin is a giant, cool (read: refrigerated) sculpture of that most vital of human organs, the heart. Daxin’s art practice revolves around a fascination with his own ability, living in China, to make large-scale art objects for a comparably miniature cost (and to make a living from them too). Elsewhere, Wu Jian’an’s landscapes offer a different kind of trance. Here, Jian'an's seemingly thick, swarming and jungle-like landscapes reveal themselves at a close distance as the painstaking layering of many finely-cut, multi-coloured paper cutouts. Lastly, in a huge piece, Michael Lin's Untitled Gathering (pictured) brings together 320 flat-top, wooden stools. Originally ungathered, they create a jigsaw-like patchwork upon which appears a super-scaled swatch from an ancient Chinese floral textile design. Down The Rabbit Hole is open from Thursday to Sunday, 10am to 6pm.
As an artist, Sydney-born Siouxzi Mernagh is uncommonly dexterous. Mernagh writes and performs poetry, she’s a photographer (polaroids are her specialty), an award-winning filmmaker (she's made eight short films, including most recently The Dangers and Exit), and a novelist, having already scrivened two novels, the latest of which is The Peep Show. Mernagh is also adroit in a more theoretical mode, having recently finished her fellowship at Berlin's Institute of Cultural Inquiry, where she produced her seventh film, and published a number of reviews on avante-garde, underground, and counter cinema. Mernagh's latest project, PEEP, is an art installation and a conceptual synthesis of her experimental film Exit and her book The Peep Show. And when one considers ALASKA Projects as the show's exhibition space — subaltern, cavernous, mysteriously hidden in the basement of a carpark — it strikes that the titles of Mernagh’s works function as shepherding metonyms for our total experience of seeing art, and specifically Mernagh’s installation, in this extraordinary site. Among its own various ‘exits’, for example, ALASKA surreptitiously offers a ‘peep show’ through which we may see the art world ‘outside’. Likewise, PEEP offers only a small, but strangely representative peek at Mernagh’s larger ouevre as a multidisciplinary artmaker. The first eight chapters of The Peep Show, for instance, are viewable in the form of pasted-up extracts around the carpark walls, but they remain only a glimpse of the larger story. Especially effective is the use to which Mernagh puts ALASKA’s stairwell, which now functions as a dark antechamber and as a direct earline to the subconscious. In this strange, liminal zone voices we might expect only ever to hear in our heads, while reading, become spookily real and resonant in a voice performance of Mernagh’s novel. All the same, we’re confused: stuck between floors and wedged between paragraphs, one can never quite be certain of one’s place within the narrative, let alone within the gallery. In the main room, meanwhile, amid a muddy mattress and some discarded clothes and furniture, different sequences of Exit (Mernagh’s filmic ode to life on a lost highway, and a love story between two nomadic young women) play all at once on a quadrant of screens. Profoundly cinematic, thoroughly underground, unsettling and dissociating, the overall effect of PEEP is original and beguiling. Alaska Projects opens 6-8pm Thursday & Friday nights, 1-6pm on weekends.
If you think that TED is thought provoking and intellectual yet on the whole not funny enough, Sydney Festival has taken it upon itself to broaden the appeal. Mixing comedy with academic explanation might seem like an idea best approached with some soothing booze, but the inaugural round of Bright Club has that angle covered too. Not unlike Cafe Scientifique, it mixes a good idea and a good drink while eager academics bring their ideas to the stage in eight minutes of entertainment and comedy. The Festival’s Club is divided into three consecutive themed late Wednesday nights from 11.30pm. The first focusing on Testosterone, the second Sex and a third escaping the human body into Earth, Sea and Sky. Joining Sydney University thinkers and researchers in the woody confines of the Famous Spegieltent will be more orthodox comedians, performers and host James O'Loghlin — whose twin holds on science and comedy should be enough to keep the pace from dragging. If you like your ideas entertaining, challenging and short, Bright Club's intellectual pugilism is probably just the British import you were waiting for. Image by Joi Ito.
There's something I really love about an Aardman film: I get all nostalgic about the days of Wallace and Gromit and Chicken Run, for one, but mostly it's that in each of their films or shows, there's always a point where suddenly you stop and think, "Holy fuck, they made that with plasticine." Despite the fact that these days they apparently use some more technical material, the hand-sculpted models in The Pirates! Band of Misfits never fail to impress with their detail and depth. The story follows the Pirate Captain and his titular misfit band of followers as they try to win the Pirate of the Year competition. In attempting to terrorise as many ships as possible to claim the best booty, the Pirate Captain instead stumbles across Charles Darwin, who encourages them to go about their win in a slightly different fashion. Voiced by Hugh Grant, David Tennant, Martin Freeman, Brendan Gleeson and Imelda Staunton, this is a fun film that manages to avoid the pitfalls of trying to offer wink-wink jokes to parents while simultaneously distracting kids with the pretty colours. The adventure is daring and crazy, the characters are loveable, and the more than 500 days of production effort that went into the film are more than enough to keep you giggling along in your seat. Extra points go to Staunton's Queen Victoria, who somewhat takes the niceties out of the traditional portrayal.
If someone says something is big in another country, chances are it’s because the rest of the world doesn’t really care for it — like how Celine Dion is big in Vegas, or how Brazilians like making sugary avocado smoothies. But Australia loves Kirin as much as Japan loves Ksubi, because cool clothing and delicious beer are two things that don’t have geographical boundaries. Something we don’t consume quite so frequently is modern Japanese expressionism, but that’s what Kirin and Ksubi are aiming to change. Cue the eclectic range of Japanese artists, performers and musicians coming to Australia to make this one cultural exchange you’ll really want to attend. Among them are Berlin-based Butoh dancer and choreographer Yuko Kaseki, indie rock duo and self proclaimed “masters of girl magic” Kiiiii!, electronic ‘Japanoise’ sound producer OVe-NaXx, and avant garde khoomei singer Fuyuki Yamakawa, who works with lightbulbs, yogic breath, antiquated medical equipment, modified musical instruments and the beat of his own heart. This party looks set to be even crazier than the fact that everyone’s invited, so get your RSVP in early.
With a weekly listenership of 1.7 million and a strong following since 1995, the popular weekly hour-long radio program This American Life is due to make its debut in Australian cinemas. Filmed on a stage in New York City, This American Life — Live! is a packed show featuring stories by host Ira Glass, writers David Sedaris and David Rakoff, comic Tig Notaro and Snap Judgment host Glynn Washington, plus live music by OK Go. This live experience will encompass things you could never do on the radio, such as a new short film by Mike Birbiglia, dance by Monica Bill Barnes & Company, original animation, projected illustration and more. Glass is excited to see how it turns out; "We've built this line-up of stories mixed with super visual things," he says. "It's going to feel like the radio show but also totally unlike anything we've done before." A must-see event to be permanent-markered in. This American Life — Live! will screen in Sydney at the Cremorne Orpheum, Dendy Newtown, Chauvel Paddington and Riverside Theatre Parramatta. https://youtube.com/watch?v=iDDUB379juo
Some couples are content to stay engaged for years; others feel they are in limbo until the Big Day officially signals the start of the rest of their lives. Tom (Jason Segel) and Violet (Emily Blunt) are in the latter camp, and they make some not-so-wise decisions while their attempts to set the right date stretch out to five years. They're initially waylaid when psych academic Violet lands a post-doc at an interstate university. Tom, a sous chef at a trendy San Francisco restaurant, contends he can do his job anywhere, but he doesn't count on the stunted restaurant scene in Ann Arbor, Michigan that means he can only get a job in a sandwich shop. Between that, the grey weather and his new friendships with downtrodden "faculty husbands", he's not happy. So when Violet's position gets extended beyond the initial two years, it puts even more pressure on the couple, and the constant prodding from their family and friends (including local hero Jackie Weaver as Violet's mother and Community and Mad Men's Alison Brie as her sister) to tie the knot isn't necessarily helping. Co-written by Segel (who also wrote The Muppets) and director Nicholas Stoller, The Five Year Engagement holds a lot of promise. It's a romantic comedy where the couple have a genuine, sweet, off-in-their-own-world connection, and both lead characters have complex lives that hinge on more than just their romantic relationship for satisfaction. Their obstacles are real ones, not the confected kinds usually used to keep apart a totally obvious pairing (she likes to knit, he runs an American Apparel, etc). Segel and Blunt each bring a sackload of charm, and they also seem to strive for gender equality in their comedic physical injury stakes (both admirably high). Unfortunately, for all the effort that went into making this feel real, their situation is riddled with inauthenticity. You feel it most keenly in the premise that Tom spends five years descending into disturbing levels of depression while Violet does almost nothing about it. This big chunk of the film is supposed to be funny but is actually horrifying. It's one of the areas where The Five-Year Engagement doesn't obey its own logic or quite find its comedy groove, chugging along at a tittering, offbeat level but trying to throw in hyperactive set-ups borrowed from an American frat movie. It's a shame, because although it's an enjoyable watch, with just a little more ruthlessness editing, this could have been a leader in the genre. https://youtube.com/watch?v=Us-5iN5aFqE
Opening the show as the first temporary exhibition for the newly-refurbished MCA is an exhibition whose focus settles on the passing moments. Marking Time has assembled eleven artists from Australia and beyond whose work focuses on the ticking of the clock. In Daniel Crooks' Static No. 12 time gets stretched like a physical thing, from one side of the screen to the other. Its two moving images, of a man practising Tai Chi, see his movements ripple from past to future. Elisa Sighicelli's Untitled (The Party is Over) sucks fireworks back to the instant of their explosion and Lindy Lee's Conflagrations from the End of Time suspends burnt scrolls along the wall, their marks like little stars. As well as the art itself, the Museum is running a program of talks, screening Christian Marclay's epic the Clock and running Celestial Radio's entry in the Local Positioning Systems selection of performance art. Still from Static No. 12 (seek stillness in movement) by Daniel Crooks.
A mix of sculpture and video installation feature at Shoot from the Hip, Lauren Brincat’s first solo show at a private gallery. Southeasterlies to the Doldrums' full-size sail dominates the room, drooped from the ceiling to a low corner mounting. Fronds of magnetic cassette tape dangle from its underside, shaggy mushrooms under the sail's cavernous ceiling. On opposite sides of the room, coloured pyramids Your Move and Golden Stranger are perplexing to the eye. Made from three triangular beams of wood with their pointed edge outward and the colour inside, each seems to disappear inwards like feet rolling on their arches. Doldrums, meanwhile, hosts a pair of cymbals facing each other expectantly, like speaker cones waiting for a fresh head to come between them. Three pairs of video artworks sit along the far wall. Brincat has labelled each a “documentation of an action”, and in the exhibition’s accompanying essay, Tania Doropoulos describes their cyclical moments as having been “based in childhood memories.” Snare the Sea holds a drum by the lip of the sea, as surging waves roll in and bang it. In Dressing Down, a woman sits and stares into the middle distance. Behind her, someone slowly drags damp cotton whool over her eyes. Carciofo Arcimboldo films Brincat eating an artichoke, leaf by leaf, discarding its husks. She looks forward: pensive, concentrating. Wisps of Carravaggio seem to lurk in its folds and shadows, and the flattened profile suggests an oil painting. Steady as She Goes, the show's poster image, has Brincat walk past us into the distance, between green grass and pre-Raphaelite mist. The mist and grass form a swirl across the diagonal, the whole scene moodily invoking a lone moment in the country. For all of these video works, the narrow depth of field combined with the high resolution make them seem like flowing moments of painting, or still photography.
In the Seventies, when Jamaican music ran rife with reggae beats, an energetic new genre called dancehall began to make waves. As dancehall’s often controversial lyrics boomed from stereo systems across the nation, a new breed of dance and subsequent dance parties took shape. Most interestingly, vibrant advertising for the new culture began to turn people’s heads all over the world. Sydney artist Robin Clare, who was born in Jamaica, has based a new exhibition around the edgy Pop Art-inspired advertisements that helped shape Jamaica’s musical identity. A repetition of prints a la Andy Warhol style, blended with bold and wacky text (which makes reference to some of the out-there dancehall party promotional slogans) create eye-catching artworks, filled with added nostalgia. Modern day Jamaican advertisements for have also been incorporated into Clare’s multi-sized collections of prints. But no dancehall-inspired art exhibition would be complete without some wicked beats to accompany it. The Large, a London dancehall-inspired DJ will hit the decks during the night. She’s one part of the Hipsters Don’t Dance DJ collective as well as one of the editors behind the popular dancehall online zine, Shimmy Shimmy. Dancing shoes required.
Artist Kevina-jo Smith could be described as a little obsessive. Ribbon, twine, bottles, plastic bags: what other people throw, she collects. This collecting is driven by what in someone less creative might be an almost crippling environmental consciousness. Luckily, Smith is an inspiringly creative person so what for others would be trash becomes, in her hands, vivid treasures. Three Years of Everything is a literal title. Pieces of string and torn shopping bags are painstakingly reworked into abstract textural pieces. It's tempting to read these in a number of ways: as timelines, tracing stories in her past, or perhaps as sheltering forms, tents or blankets. But perhaps the best way to read these works is simply to sink into them. Through the woven loops, a fortunate viewer might even catch a glimpse of a more optimistic future. Penrith Regional Gallery feels like a particularly appropriate place for this work. Modernist architect Sydney Ancher's influence still resonates throughout. The gentle, low and open architecture of the rooms is at one with the surrounding environment, only a hop from the banks of the Nepean River. And it's telling that the gallery has grown from the home of two artists: intimacy and warmth still emanate from the walls. The garden is something that deserves comment in its own right, and I was disappointed to get only a vague impression of this on the launch evening. Only more reason for a return visit. Right now, actually, would be a good time to do so. The Pick, a program which features work from non-artists, is currently exhibiting drawings by Shayne Roberts. He is the gallery's Heritage Gardener, and his works are accompanied by brief histories of the Lewers, the aforementioned artists, and the site. In what was once the Lewers house is a joint exhibition from John Nicholson and Justin Trendall, two artists inspired - like the Lewers - by early Modernism. And the mixed exhibition, tellingly titled Hello Dollies, is both playful and surprising.
And we thought catching some of the country's finest cinematic works was reason enough to book tickets. In only its third year, the Australian Film Festival will offer Sydneysiders a chance to get their hands dirty in the world of film with a range of seminars, workshops and outdoor screenings. Across 11 days, Clovelly Beach will play venue to a Saturday night screening of Red Dog, starring Josh Lucas and Rachael Taylor, film editing and screenwriting classes will be held, a short film competition will be judged and a lineup of fabulous local films will be screened. And just to ensure there are no white spaces in the diary, Deborah Mailman and Barry Otto will be inducted into the Australian Walk of Fame and also receive plaques on the footpath outside Randwick's gorgeous old Ritz Cinema. Film wise, book now to see Swerve, featuring Emma Booth and Vince Colosimo; LBF (Living Between F***s), featuring Toby Schmitz and Gracie Otto; Burning Man, a story about an English chef working on Bondi Beach who tries to reconnect with his son; and more. We're also hanging out for the Australian Directors Guild's Directors Panel discussion, where the likes of Kerry Armstrong, Rowan Woods and more will talk shop for a couple of hours. Plenty to look forward to, really.
Though it’s stolen much international limelight, and not to mention that little Best Picture gong at last month’s Oscars, The Artist wasn’t the only stellar film to come out of France in 2011. Judging by the talent this year’s French Film Festival is boasting, there’s plenty more where that came from. In its 23rd annual showing and across four Sydney venues, Alliance Francaise will present another quality collection of cinematic experiences. Staged at Palace Norton Street and Paddington’s Palace Verona as well as the nearby Chauvel Cinema and Cremorne’s Orpheum Theatre, films such as the highly acclaimed Declaration Of War, which received a 15-minute standing ovation at Cannes last year, and Jane Birkin’s documentary Souvenirs of Serge are bound to attract crowds. Film lovers will be especially treated on the evening of Thursday, 15 March when Birkin herself will stage an in-person Q&A with her audience. An unbelievably hot ticket, though there’s a string of similarly impressive events outlined on the festival’s website. Other bound-to-be-popular films will include the two new Audrey Tautou flicks, Against The Wind and Delicacy, as well as the new provocative Juliette Binoche drama, Elles. As last year’s festival attracted about 100,000 people across the country, you’d best start reserving those seats now. To win one of ten Festival passes, just make sure you are subscribed to Concrete Playground then email your postal address through to hello@concreteplayground.com.au
What's in a name? He titled Coriolanus by any other name would smell as proud, fierce and crazy scary. This, I'm guessing, would have been a line in Shakespeare's Coriolanus, had he not already used it to prettier effect in Romeo and Juliet. One of the lesser known of the Bard's works, Coriolanus is the story of a heroic Roman general, Caius Martius, who is decorated with the surname of Coriolanus. But when he's unable to translate his prowess for war into political popularity, he loses his title, is exiled from the city and from outside its walls plots his revenge. Like Baz Luhrmann's Romeo + Juliet and Richard Loncraine's Richard III, this Coriolanus puts Shakespeare's words into a modern context, aiming for accessibility, resonance and impact. Set "in a place calling itself Rome" but looking like the Balkans, the assured directorial debut from Ralph Fiennes pits himself as Coriolanus against Gerard Butler as his mortal foe, Tullus Aufidius, leader of the Volscian army. Coriolanus is a brazen Shakespeare/action movie hybrid that mostly works and works beautifully. It creates a highly stylised world where grey urbanism butts up against sweat and rawness and tribalism and men lovingly sharpening daggers of medieval thickness and detail. It's certainly redolent of those parts of the world that identify with European cosmopolitanism yet struggle to reconcile it with the barbarism that emerges in enmity. The modern makeover is elegantly done, with newscasts relaying the lines of citizen commentators and bazookas laying waste to apartment blocks that stand in for razed villages. There are a few moments, however, where the imagery and allegory lose the plot and you wish Fiennes and writer John Longan had thought more laterally about their revision. In particular, one little mob of protesters seems to hound Coriolanus in places (parliaments, TV studios) a mob could not normally be, soon running him out of town. As a representation of how public opinion works, it jars completely. It's disappointing because the whole point of Shakespeare's historical tragedies is to communicate how the lessons of a past event apply to the present, and one slip is enough to pull you out of a near-meticulous world. Fortunately, these inconsistencies are overcome in a tighter second half. Once Coriolanus is exiled from Rome, things get intense. He forms an alliance with Tullus Aufidius to march on the city that betrayed him, and only the intervention of his devoted (and devotedly militarist) mother (Vanessa Redgrave) and sweet wife (Jessica Chastain) can save the peace. The real pleasure in Coriolanus is savouring Shakespeare's words in a medium that zooms in close enough for you to properly hear them. They're spectacularly relayed by the impressive cast, whether by Fiennes' theatre-filling intensity or Butler's casual gruffness. https://youtube.com/watch?v=bsYrGIQnmxo
Insert Coin(s) combines club tunes, retro gaming, graffiti art and geek culture at Oxford Art Factory. Following on from their sneak peak of The Darkness II, this fourth round of Insert Coin(s) will feature multiple screens of FIFA Street (not out till March 15) and SSX (released March 1). You'll also get access to a custom '80s style milk bar (mmm… alcoholic milkshakes), contemplate foot-long dogs at a New York-style hot dog vendor (wow… so many condiments), and rediscover your skills at pinball, arcade and tabletop units, including Pacman, Addams Family, Donkey Kong, Frogger, Shinobi, Back to the Future, Fish Tales and World Cup Soccer. DJs will spin classic tracks from the '80s and '90s all night long and the Insert Coin(s) team have even got some graffiti artists coming to create live art inspired by the video games of yesteryear. Since the launch event last September, this event series has become a hit with gamers, geeks and social gypsies everywhere, so take a boozy trip down memory lane and revisit the all-time classics from the 8-bit era. What the heck happened to my pinball machine points anyway? Game on!
