Berlin Retrospective 1: The Filmmuseum Berlin

Before my recent Berlin sojourn (in November 2011) becomes naught but a distant memory - at least until the next visit - here is the first of a short series of selected highlights. I’m starting with this fabulous museum, as it has helped rekindle my interest in silent cinema, which in turn appears to be infiltrating some of my current work.

Part of the Filmhaus, which also includes a film school and the Cinematheque-like Arsenal cinemas, Filmmuseum Berlin provides an immersive, hugely entertaining and exceptionally instructive journey through the history of German Cinema.  I felt very much like Lewis Carroll’s Alice, particularly when walking the Caligari-like path that snakes through its dizzying mirrored multi-screened entrance hall - although for film buffs, Wonderland and Looking Glass World combined have nothing on this place.

From Berlin-born Marlene Dietrich’s estate the museum has inherited a vast holding that includes photographs, letters, items of personal clothing and, most notably, costumes from her films. These are regularly rotated. The installation view immediately following includes photographs of Dietrich and her mentor Josef von Sternberg, along with the top hat and other accessories and artifacts from her first Hollywood film Morocco (1930, dir. Josef von Sternberg). Pictured second below is the costume Dietrich wore as dance hall girl Frenchie in the comedy western Destry Rides Again (1939, dir. George Marshall). Cast completely against type, her droll, earthy performance (opposite James Stewart) is considered to be responsible for bailing out her sinking film career.

The exhibits that focused on German silent film and early talkies were especially captivating. These included posters, costumes, stills, film clips, and superbly crafted scale models of film sets, including (first and second directly below) The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari (1919, dir. Robert Wiene) and The Blue Angel (1930, dir. Josef von Sternberg). Among the costumes was a touchingly evocative facsimile of the doorman’s coat worn by Emil Jannings in the silent classic The Last Laugh (1924, dir. F. W. Murnau). But best of all were a series of film clips of silent movie actress Asta Nielsen, whose acting range (unlike that of the far better known Dietrich) appeared to be limitless.  I knew little of her work, and have the Filmmuseum Berlin to thank for introducing me to it.

Our lengthy visit to this extraordinary place ended in the bar on the ground floor, named for legendary director Billy Wilder, whose own dazzling career began in Berlin. We drank a toast to him.

Tricking the eye at the Art Gallery of Ballarat

Vorticist 2, 2004, Acrylic and oil on linen, 122 x 91 cm (installation view)

Purchased with funds from the Colin Hicks Caldwell Bequest, 2005

After quite a long hiatus, Vorticist 2 is again on view at the Art Gallery of Ballarat. (For part of that time it was on tour with the 2008 survey exhibition Deborah Klein - Out of the Past 1995-2007). This time around it has been placed in an entirely different context, as part of an exhibition focusing on Photorealist and Trompe l’oeil works from the gallery’s permanent collection.

Although figurative, Vorticist 2 is not based on a specific source, photographic or otherwise. The work is principally an invention, so it’s intriguing to see it placed in this company. But then recurrently my pictures of anonymous women are also classified erroneously as portraits, despite the fact that I refer to them collectively as Non-Portraits. Then again, I’ve always maintained that my work remains open to individual interpretation…

Two paintings by my partner Shane Jones, which unquestionably fit the Trompe l’oeil category, are also included in the exhibition.

The Ghost of Artworks Past

Many moons ago, when my work was hovering uncertainly at a major crossroads, my Postgraduate Supervisor Euan Heng was both encouraging and perceptive. At this stage the new ideas were still mainly in my head; he also cautioned me that if I didn’t bring off what would be a radical change of direction, "Old work can come back to haunt you". For one who frequently suffers the torments of hell when an old work is exhumed, his warning hit home. But I knew I’d come as far as I could with the current imagery. I believed in my new ideas and change was inevitable, no matter what misgivings I might also have.

In fact what eventuated, namely the Pirate Jenny Prints suite of linocuts (1987) became a significant turning point, setting me on the path that, aside from the odd detour (and inevitable dead end) I tread with varying degrees of assurance to this day. I’m still rather proud of them.

 1 Pirate Jenny at Luna Park, 1987

 2 Pirate Jenny and Mack the Knife, 1987

3 Pirate Jenny in a Kimono, 1987

Admittedly there are other instances when I don’t feel like crawling under the covers when the Ghost of Artworks Past pays an unsolicited call. But occasionally I’m confronted with some abomination that in some cases would have been better off being humanely destroyed.  I see nothing but glaring imperfections and think how much better the work would be had I made it today.

When I became a Master of Arts candidate in 1995 (once again under Euan Heng’s judicious supervision) my drawing style changed markedly. It was undoubtedly directed by my thesis, namely women in Film Noir and the Woman’s Picture. By mid 1996 the work had become less mannered and stylized as I gradually moved away from previous influences, including German Expressionism. As a result, it is mainly (although not exclusively) the pre-Film Noir and some early works from the series that have, for me at least, ‘dated’ and which have caused me the most grief. But I think it’s also fair to say that rather than existing solely as eternal testaments to my ineptitude, a few of these works have their good points, whether it’s the ideas behind them, or even isolated areas of technical competence.

Above left: 4 The Letter, 1995
Above right: 5 Mildred Pierce on St. Kilda Pier, 1995

A selection of my old pictures, including several from that vexed pre-1996 period, now grace the walls of the house at Ballarat, thus creating some sorely needed space in our storage area in Melbourne. Some deserved to once again see the light of day far more than others, and these were hung soon after we moved in. But those I felt more ambivalent about remained stacked against a wall for nearly a year.  We finally hung them over the Christmas break. Several are in my studio. We are gradually learning to coexist and I realize that I might actually be able to learn something from them. It's starting to feel like it could be a positive place from which to begin a new year and a new body of work.

 6 Studio view, January 2012

7 Studio view 2, January 2012

Pictured above (from top):

1 Pirate Jenny at Luna Park, 1987, linocut, 61.5 x 45.5 cm

2 Pirate Jenny and Mack the Knife, 1987, linocut, 61.5 x 45.5 cm

3 Pirate Jenny in a Kimono, 1987, linocut 61.5 x 46 cm
Pirate Jenny is a character in The Threepenny Opera, by Kurt Weill (music) and Bertolt Brecht (book and lyrics). Ostensibly set in London, its spiritual home was Berlin, where it premiered in 1928. I transplanted its original location to scruffy, pre-gentrified St. Kilda in Melbourne, where I was then living and working. The Pirate Jenny Prints were published by Port Jackson Press, Melbourne and subsequently toured nationally. Euan Heng wrote the introduction to the catalogue that accompanied the tour.

4 and 5 (see below)

6 Studio view, Ballarat, January 2012
Pictures from left:

Untitled, (c 1994) oil pastel, 76 x 56 cm
Unlike most of my work, this image is not connected to a thematically linked series.  This sad but spirited wallflower was inspired by a poignant group of photographs from the 1950s, taken at a high school dance when American film legend James Dean paid a return visit to the small town where he was raised.

Mildred Pierce on St. Kilda Pier*, 1995, oil on canvas, 61 x 51 cm
The Letter, 1995, oil on canvas, 61 x 51 cm
These are linked to the Film Noir series of the mid 90s. They are two of the few surviving paintings from that period. As the series progressed, I found that the nocturnal world of film noir was best served by the linocut medium. In fact both images were subsequently developed into linocuts. They were included, along with the linocuts, in my second solo exhibition at Australian Galleries, Melbourne, in 1996. (*For more on Mildred Pierce, see Blog Post February 12, 2011.)

The Red Dress and the White Dress, 1992, oil pastel, 74.5 x 54.5 cm
This drawing takes its points of departure from two of Dorothy Parker’s poems. It was originally part of a 1992 solo exhibition, my first at Australian Galleries in Melbourne. The exhibition focused on the lives and work of writers Dorothy Parker, Zelda Fitzgerald and Virginia Woolf. The series was also exhibited at Solander Gallery in Canberra.

7 Studio View 2, January 2012
Pictures from left:

Snake Charmer, 1996, linocut, 36 x 37.5 cm
Fairgrounds and circuses often feature in Film Noir. This is one work I’ve always had a certain fondness for.

Night Drivers, 1996, oil pastel, 55 x 75 cm
The danger inherent when anyone gets behind of the wheel of a car was exploited regularly in Film Noir. When researching this work, I derived particular inspiration from the superb Nicholas Ray film In a Lonely Place (1950) and the Bette Davis camp classic Beyond the Forest (dir. King Vidor, 1949, in which she utters the celebrated line, long beloved by Davis impersonators, "What a Dump!") This drawing was transposed into a linocut, which in my opinion worked much better.  Both versions also debuted at Australian Galleries, Melbourne in 1996.

Merry Christmas to All and to All a Good Night (until 2012)

And so what has been another hectic, fast paced year skids to a close. It brought one particularly significant change for me, a committed City Girl. Just over a year ago I bought a house in regional Victoria; from the beginning of this year, I’ve been dividing my life and practice between Ballarat and Melbourne. Several aspects of this, including my new studio, are still works in progress, but overall the change has been overwhelmingly positive.

2011 also included a residency and solo exhibition, Winged Women, at The Art Vault in Mildura in June and a second solo exhibition, Re-evolution at Woodbine Art Gallery in Malmsbury in September.

Re-Evolution at Woodbine Art Gallery, Malmsbury

I made several new zines during the year, most notably the Moth Woman Vigilantes (see Moth Woman Press). I'm thrilled that the State Library of Victoria has expressed interest in all of them.

Aside from several group exhibitions, I participated once again in some of Rona Green’s projects, including Familiar/Unfamiliar, an international portfolio exchange exhibition that will tour to Tweed River Art Gallery, NSW in 2012.

Looking Back to See, 2011, linocut, chine colle, featured
in Familiar/Unfamiliar

Days after it was launched at C3 contemporary art space in late September, I flew to London for a month, followed by a fortnight in Berlin. It was my first visit to the latter city and was a lifelong dream come true. I can hardly wait to go back again. (More about this in future blog posts).

In Suspense at Hand Held Gallery, curated by Megan Herring and Duality at Banyule Art Gallery, curated by Claire Watson, both opened when I was overseas, but I caught up with them when I returned. Both were terrific exhibitions that I was proud to be part of.

Making New Year Resolutions is sorely tempting fate. These might be Famous Last Words (I hope not) but I’ve earmarked 2012 as a year to be spent primarily in the studio, with as few outside distractions as possible. There are several projects I’m keen to pursue that have been put on the back burner for far too long.

Wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and a happy, healthy, creative and peaceful New Year.

Section of the Berlin Wall, October 2011

London Retrospective IV: The Courtauld Gallery

London has some of the finest museums in the world, but for the unwary they are not without their perils. The vastness of some, for example, the British Museum, is overwhelming. You enter tormented with the knowledge that unless you have the strength of character to be brutally selective, you will only be able to see a fraction of their treasures before mental and physical fatigue set in. You can end up forgetting what you have been able to take in, but too exhausted even to care.

The Courtauld Gallery in the Strand block of Somerset House is relatively small by the standard of most London museums. It’s a joy to stroll through its elegant rooms, fully engage with its numerous gems and be spared the distracting, energy-draining impediment of sardine-like crowds that frequent most other institutions, even outside of the tourist season.

One of its many strengths is its Impressionist and Post Impressionist collection, some of which are featured here, along with an exquisite portrait by the early German Expressionist artist Paula Modersohn-Becker, on loan from a private collection.

From top:

Staircase from main gallery

From left: Paul Cezanne, Pot of Flowers and Pears, c 1888-90, oil on canvas and Still Life with Plaster Cupid, c 1894, oil on paper laid on board

Former Ante-Room of the Royal Society and the Society of Antiquities; painting in the ceiling cove: Biagio Rebecca: panel from The Four Elements (Earth, Air, Fire and Water); above mantle: Paul Cezanne: Man with a Pipe, c 1892-96, oil on canvas

Edgar Degas, Dancers, contre-jour

Edouard Manet, A Bar at the Follies Bergere, 1882, oil on canvas (on right: Shane Jones)

Georges Seurat, Young Woman Powdering Herself, c 1888-90, oil on canvas

Georges Seurat, The Bridge at Courbevoie, c 1886-87, oil on canvas

Vincent van Gogh, Peach Trees in Flower, 1889, oil on canvas

Paula Modersohn-Becker, Portrait of a Girl, 1906, oil on board

London Retrospective llI: The Bethnal Green Museum of Childhood

For many years I’ve wanted to visit the Bethnal Green Museum of Childhood, a branch of the Victoria and Albert Museum. But with so much on in London, and insufficient time to experience but a fraction of it on any one visit, this somehow got put off until the next time, and the next... It’s hard enough simply trying to reconnect with all the places you already know and love. And so the decades passed.

Now that I’ve finally made it there and discovered what a magical place it is, I’m trying to convince myself that it’s a case of better late than never, rather than berating myself for not going years earlier. Please indulge my lack of restraint regarding the number of pictures. Believe it or not, I did several edits; I could have posted dozens more.

Also on view was a temporary exhibit, My Giant Colouring Book, a suite of etchings by Jake and Dinos Chapman. To see a selection of the works, visit Moth Woman Press HERE.

(Pictured above: Quote by Carl Jung on Bethnal Green Museum blind. Click on image to enlarge.) The museum's website can be viewed HERE.

Pictured above:

Images 1 and 2: Exterior and interior views of the museum

Image 3: A Praxinoscope

Image 4: My companions Bev Murray and Shane Jones pose with Robbie the Robot

Image 5: Victorian clockwork monkeys

Image 6: 19^th century Pantins (Jumping Jacks)

Image 7: Struwwelpeter Jumping Jack, 1983

Images 8-9: Marionette puppets

Image 10: Background: marionnetes; foreground: Charlie Chaplin Jumping Jack

Image 11: Display case including Oriental dolls and silhouettes

Image 12: Detail from above: silhouettes with moving parts by German animation pioneer Lotte Reiniger; used in her film Papageno, 1935, based on Mozart’s The Magic Flute

Image 13: A selection of rag books, 1910-72 

Image 14: One of many spectacular dolls houses that were on display

Image 15: The Royal Punch and Judy Show

Image 16: Punch and Judy detail

Image 17: Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll, illustrated by John Tenniel, 1885 edition, with Mad Hatter’s Tea Party playset, 1900-20

Image 18: Elder Mother Tree, 1932 by Arthur Rackham, watercolour illustration (from Hans Christian Andersen’s Fairy Tales)

Image 19: Victorian novelty cards

Image 20: The glove puppet-magician Sooty and assorted magic tricks

Image 21: More magic tricks, including Der Kleiner Zauberer (The Little Conjurer) c 1910 and Maskelyne’s Mysteries, 1950-59

Image 22: Theatrical posters. Note the central poster advertising the magic act of Cleopatra, c 1900-30. To quote the museum’s label: A woman’s role in the world of magic is usually confined to that of assistant but there have been women magicians in their own right. These were usually magician’s wives, such as Adelaide Herrmann, The Queen of Magic, or daughters, such as Ionia The Enchantress. Cleopatra  was probably French but is something of a mystery. Far right: photograph of Tommy Cooper.

Image 23: THUNDERBIRDS ARE GO!