47 Dachshunds get together for the conference

Last Saturday I attended Perth based artist Bennett Miller’s installation/performance Dachshund UN which is part of this month’s Next Wave Festival. Dachshund UN is exactly that – a scaled replica of the UN office in Geneva, only this time each 47 countries are represented by dachshunds.

The architectural display is on for another week at the Melbourne Museum, showing again next Saturday at 2pm. During each long hour show, 47 sausage dogs get together at the conference to discuss (or bark, to be exact) world issues. The performance is a “meditation on the utopian aspirations of the Commission on Human Rights, and our capacity as humans to imagine and achieve a universal system of justice.” It’s cute, yes. But perhaps it is just that.

Miller, a 29 year old artist from Perth chose Dachshunds because they are quite similar to humans. He explains, “they have their own racial diversity – black, brown, red. Also, even though they’re restricted in their movement, they are quite determined and proud.”

However, there have been mixed responses to Miller’s performance, some deeming it cruel and inhumane.  In an article written in the Sydney Morning Herald last week, it was noted that “the animals were restless, clambering around and ill at ease. They panted constantly – which dogs do when stressed”. Subjugating animals for the sake of art is a prominent concern, and judging by the comments of the article, many agreed that this was an act of animal cruelty.

The dogs getting ready for the performance. They are given treats and water as their owners crouch under the podiums, supervising their dogs.

Miller’s project was assembled with the help of the Dachshund Club of Victoria, who were initially skeptical but agreed to help Miller who assured them that he wouldn’t “portray the dogs in a demeaning way”. A dog owner who was involved in the project pointed out that, “Bennett, the artist, stressed to all of the owners that if we thought that at any time our dog felt uncomfortable, we could leave the stage. By no means the dogs were forced to stay up there for the full hour. Yes, it did take about 10 minutes for the dogs to settle, but after that most of them were quite comfortable. Those who could not stay for the whole hour were welcome to leave early. My dog was not traumatised, not abused, not exploited in any way”.

Animals have long been used by artists in order to prove a point across. Notorious and celebrated YBA artist Damien Hirst used sharks, cows and sheep in formaldehyde containers. Victorian artist Ivan Durrant once slaughtered a cow and left the remains on the NGV steps in 1975. There have been rumours that the Chicken Stampede, a Next Wave performance involving 500 chickens to be set free in Fitzroy, will be canceled as it is deemed to be inhumane by the RSPCA.

It’s a tricky subject, but as a lover of dogs (and animals) I believe that the performance managed to showcase the beauty of these dachshunds. I don’t personally believe that the justice and rights of these dogs had been taken away, as  the aforementioned  SMH article claims. However, the whole point Miller makes  about ‘humanity’ doesn’t strike me as much as it should have. People were impressed by the whole performance, judging from the reactions of the crowd. But the kitsch and cuteness of it all was just a tad too distracting.

Every workshop is different – some provide elaborate services such as talented lecturers, expensive materials and a pleasant atmosphere, while others leave you with bad models, inappropriate equipment, and a torturous environment. Therefore, it is always good to do a little research before investing time and money into a class.

The good news for us in Melbourne is that in there is no better city in Australia for figure drawing. Even better, I’ve started your research for you! Read on for the low-down on Melbourne’s best figure drawing classes!

National Gallery of Victoria - You get what you pay for rings true for the rather expensive workshops organised by the NGV. The high price guarantees you a treated to professional approach, while courses range from beginners through to advanced courses. If you are interested, you will need to secure your place early as classes often fill weeks beforehand.

No Vacancy Gallery - For the advanced artist, No Vacancy Gallery is definitely a place worth visiting. Classes run every Wednesday evening, and cater to advanced students who can incorporate more elaborate approaches in their work, such such as chalk, clay crayons and ink.

Bonny Hut - Bonny Hut in Northcote offers extravagant classes across a diverse range of skill levels. With several courses running at the same time, you are unlikely to ever miss out on a place. Though quality of teaching and materials is lower than others, Bonny Hill does offer a friendly, open environment and the widest range of skill levels.

Nyora Studio Gallery - This Eltham gallery offers some figure drawing classes among its long list of art workshops. Lecturers are highly engaged in the arts scene and bring strong experience which means they can be very helpful.

Brunswick Street Gallery - This famous and long-standing gallery provides basic figure drawing courses every Tuesday and Thursday from 6 pm. One advantage of the Brunswick Street Gallery is its central location in the heart of Fitzroy.

Burlesque Bar - For those looking for something a little different, Burlesque Bar also offers burlesque workshops in which the attendants unveil the secrets of pin up magic. Class are held every Wednesday from 7 pm.

Ink and Lead Company - Ink and Lead Company have developed their classes along a similar attitude to Burlesque Bar. The venue offers prospective artists classes at two locations: Newport and Fitzroy. Benefits include special direction by the host, and boasting Melbourne’s most talented and celebrated burlesque performers, including the likes of Rosy Rabbit and Vesper White.

Still don’t see anything that suits you? Don’t fear, just take a quick walk to to the advertising board by the entrance to the Dean’s Art shop (188 Gertrude Street), where you’ll find a full list of independent art classes running in Collingwood, Northcote, Brunswick and Fitzroy. Or have a look online at Melbourne Life Drawing. Good luck!

Ilia at home

I’m standing in Ilia Farah Rosli’s kitchen, slouching over the kitchen bench as she makes me a cup of tea. I glance at the gigantic fruit bowl near the window, which supplies every common fruit imaginable. “We’re a fruit house”, she proclaims, “we eat a lot of fruit!”.

Recent works in Ilia’s exhibition at Y3K have dealt with the organic and the natural, using materials such as fruit and vegetables. Her work, Brand new, a potato covered in fruit stickers, is an interesting exploration of notions of identity. She calls the conception of this work a “happy accident”. She would bring a piece of fruit into class everyday, and with each fruit she’d collect the sticker. It thus became a “beautiful collection and I’d collect more and more stickers”. Ilia decided to stick them all onto the potato, giving it a new identity, a multiplicity of generic labels which simultaneously recreated it. “It is everything and nothing at the same time”, she explains.

Brand new, various fruit stickers, potato, 2009

Born in Geelong, and spending her childhood in Kuala Lumpur, Ilia’s mixed upbringing is often reflected in notions of duality in her work, combinations of old and new, of formal and informal. She works with recycled materials far from the traditional artist’s tools, giving them a second life. These objects are used to create monumental pieces, such as Play house, which was showcased at Bus Projects last month. Play house consists of a wooden door, a blow-up globe and a gym ball, balanced and integrated to create a massive sculpture. “I like dealing with things at hand”, she says. “I like to operate with things as I go; it’s a more fluid approach and this tends to be the most fun. I don’t want to always try to justify materials and ideas beforehand because this makes it too academic.”

Her most recent exhibition at Y3K utilises organic materials rather than recyclables. Ilia claims that organic materials are honest, “you drop them, they bruise, they smell nice when ripe, when they rot they’re ready to throw out”. In Time and a half, she divides a lime then pieces it back together using gaffa tape. By joining the segments in a slightly off kilter manner she is “disrupting their flow”, and overtime the lime begins to look like a rotting lemon, and in a way becomes whole once again.

Time and a half, lime, gaffa tape, 2010

As I drink my cup of tea, I can’t help but imagine the kind of art that will be constructed from the fruit in the communal fruit bowl. On the windowsill I see oddly shaped potatoes covered in plaster. “My housemates are getting used to me drawing on food and covering objects with feathers or plaster”, she says. “No one has told me off, just yet!”.

Utopian Slumps in Collingwood

‘The Slumps’ is moving up in the world. No more smelly rodent infested back alley, smoker packed balcony or sweaty arm-pit art-gazing. This might be a drastic change for the Slumps, but don’t worry —the art is staying — it’s just going to be a bit classier. Melissa Loughnan, the young curator turned gallery owner of not-for-profit Utopian Slumps, has had three years of sell-out shows in her Collingwood space, but a shortage of public funding has made it tough. At 24, Loughnan opened the gallery as a space to show the occasional exhibition featuring experimental and emerging artists. It took off in a big way, and over its three years clocked up many firsts: Conor O’Brien‘s first solo show, Brendan Huntley’s first paintings, Amiel Courtin-Wilson’s first head-hitting burning saxophone. But Loughnan felt that it was “time to get a little more professional and to grow up a little bit”, and so the Utopian ideal slump has sparked a new venture into commercial art.

Founding Director of Utopian Slumps, Melissa Loughnan

Okay, so commercialism isn’t exactly a euphoria inducing word for those trying to make it in the big bad art world. Loughnan’s motives, however, are all in good order. She’ll be representing nine artists as part of the commercial side of the new Slumps: Steven Asquith, Starlie Geikie, Nathan Gray, Misha Hollenbach, William MacKinnon, Dylan Martorell, Mark Rodda, Jake Walker and Amber Wallis. The aim is to work long-term and closely with each artist rather than doing the mere one-off show. The not-for-profit side of the Slumps will be renamed USSR (Utopian Slumps Second Round), and will function as the new gallery’s charitable outlet. In Loughnan’s words, this is “a way to continue giving back to the Melbourne art community” — a very noble gesture indeed.

Territorial Pissings opening at new CBD location

The shiny new space will be located at 33 Guildford Lane, Melbourne, and the inaugural appropriately-named show Territorial Pissings, including works by Amber Wallis, Nathan Gray and Jake Walker, will open on April 15. “The exhibition is about mark making, making a mark on the new gallery space, or marking its new territory. The theme of the opening show also references the Nirvana song of the same name, with all its glib inferences and grunge associations”, says Loughnan.

The new space is larger and somewhat grander than the Slumps’ old Collingwood haunt, situated on the ground floor of a three-level red-brick late 1800s building. Concrete will replace the previously vinyl floors, and heritage beams the timber ceiling. The main gallery will be more along the lines of the traditional white cube than its predecessor, and a cobble-stoned lane should prove very fitting for keeping up its patrons old drinking and smoking habits. “Ultimately the new space will be a slightly more grown up version of the old, with a view to its longevity”, says Loughnan. Not too shabby at all.

Bring on Utopia!

Our unique, artist-run galleries are under threat. Rising rents, fewer interested artists, and the effects of the current economic climate mean galleries already struggling may be forced to close their doors.

One such gallery is the small, independently-run Palomar Mountain Gallery and Studios in Preston. Opened in 2008, the gallery is an informal space open to most types of visual artists, especially those interested in combining their work which other creative forms, such as music. Gallery owner Maara Serwylo accepts submissions from across many different art forms according to what she calls a “do it yourself” policy. The interaction of these many forms creates a diverse visual and aural experience.

“We have some painters, printmakers, drawers, writers, musicians,” says Maara proudly. The gallery gives independent artists the chance to have their work presented alongside more established artists, such as Nerida Roe, Rachel Ang or Busadee Noodee. While the gallery tries to give equal display space to all its exhibitors, preference is given to emerging artists working with conceptual art forms. Palomar Gallery also functions as a concert venue, counting performances by Plastic Palace Alice, Great Earthquake, Derza and many more.

The future of Palomar Mountain is unclear. The twin effects of the GFC and “skyrocketing” rents means Serwylo is not sure whether the gallery will survive into next 2011.

“I feel that at this time the Artist Run Initiative is near to becoming extinct. There is less funding for smaller DIY arts spaces and its difficult to attain. Though the gallery has survived for two years as a non-profit organization, Serwylo comments that financially Palomar Mountain is not viable as a standalone business.

Asked what she believes her visitors like most about the gallery, Serwylo answers that both general audiences and dedicated artists appreciate the sense of community created through the many different artist work represent. For artists especially, the abundant, natural lighting and relative low cost of renting a space mean it is very popular source for gaining an audience for their work. The gallery incorporates ten spaces for artist ranging in cost from $240 to $270 a month. For this price, artists are provided 24-hour access to a lockable space for their work and have access to off-street parking at nearby car park. Some free exhibition space is available in a front display area.

If you are in Preston and looking for a experience across many art forms, please show your support for Palomar Mountain. You can rent a space or find out about upcoming exhibitions or concert events by giving a call to Maara Serwylo on 0431 464 257 or by sending her an email.

The space is only open during running exhibitions and gigs but appointments can be made most times to discuss costs and upcoming opportunities to present work.

Do you know another unique art space in Melbourne in danger of closing? Please add a comment to share your find so we can support our artist-run galleries before its too late.

Killing Time (detail), Maple Bracing, 2003-2004, 108 x 184 x 118 cm

Ricky Swallow works in exchanges; exchanges of materials, time and space. Relationships between things, between lives, and the stuff that makes up daily life.Memorials are pieced together from the narratives of human existence; the discarded, once valued but now forgotten. Like the bricoleur put into popular usage by anthropologist Claude Levi-Strauss in his book The Savage Mind, Ricky Swallow draws from his immediate surroundings, but in a form of second order bricoleur, where things are elegantly crafted from wood, plaster and bronze.

Fig. 1, English Lime wood, 2008, 24 x 20 14 cm

The visible remnants of a passage of time, and the physical work involved in sculpture seeps from the works. It can be seen in the intricate rendering of fish and crustaceans strewn across a model of the family table of Swallow’s youth in Killing Time (2003-04), or in the recreation of the feathers and fur strung up, the prize of a hunt in Salad days (2005). The paper sheath cloaking a hidden scull in Fig 1. (2008) is as delicate and translucent as the real thing. Amazing. Awe inspiring.

Wood is a living material, it expands, contracts, and ages with time just like the relationships we have with objects. It is not static, just as our memories are not static. They morph, grow and sometimes disappear. They form the by products of our lives, a testimony to the person we have become. And our memories are forever bottled-up in the things we collect, the things that we cannot let go.

Rife with autobiographical associations, Swallow reclaims the still life genre in these pieces to explore his own personal narrative. Recapturing a memory through the strong associations forever inextricably linked with objects, Swallow makes a point of salvaging and honouring the things that continue to resonate strongly in his life. This long train of objects and images are documented in a daily dose on his blog Ready for the House. From animals to wood, via fishing, lamps, loot and love, it’s easy to see how the oddest things strike a chord somewhere within us.

Back between the white walls of the Ian Potter, walking amongst these forms it’s hard not to feel the longing tied up in the wood, the bronze and the plaster. Although the works are merely recreations of actual objects, you can feel their longing to be part of the real world, to be more than just a container for something bigger than themselves. Instead the works manage to unify the description of all that we imbue in an object into one complete experience. They are a pace away from real life, but you can’t help but feel that without them real life might slip away.

“It’s overly romantic, but there is some kind of emotional struggle to make anything in the studio work. If I think something is really moving, I want everyone that’s close to me to have experienced the same thing… it’s something about a lasting impression and the sculptures are supposed to be a lasting impression of something else.”

- Ricky Swallow talks to Lesley Vance of North Drive Press June 2005.

Emily Kam Kngwarray, Big yam Dreaming (1995), 291.1 x 801.8 cm. Taken from National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne. Presented through The Art Foundation of Victoria by Donald and Janet Holt and family, Governors, 1995 © Emily Kam Kngwarray/Licensed by VISCOPY, Australia

You can not categorise Aboriginal art within the same sphere as Conceptual and Contemporary art—it stands apart, even though both practices resemble similar aesthetics. Aboriginal art has long been squeezed and labelled into the Western art paradigm; this is a problematic notion. It is crucial that Aboriginal art is to be removed from Western conceptualisation, both in the way it is handled in the art system, and as well as the understanding of the artwork itself.

The art system is an inherently Western concept. It is a product of a long history of European art and its preceding sovereignty over other art movements, particularly art from other (inferior) cultures and nations. Art which stems outside the European systems, therefore, cannot be understood unless it is in relation to the predominant Western art system itself. This notion is particularly relevant when in discussion of Aboriginal art. ‘The industry that caters for Aboriginal Art, not an Aboriginal Art Industry’, as artist Richard Bell states, is not run by Aboriginal communities but instead controlled by (the predominantly Anglo-Celtic) people who are experts in the fields of anthropology and Western art. Aboriginal art, therefore is constantly interconnected and categorised according to Western labels and systems and as of now, is only understood within this preconceived sphere.
Djon Mundine, an independent curator and art critic who has written and researched extensively on Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander art, asserts the notion that Aboriginal art is no longer about what Aboriginal people want to express, but instead what has developed is an artificial product of what is basically known as Western capitalist commodity culture. Yes, the art system has always been a business scheme; the ‘art’ and the ‘market’ are entities that cannot be separated from one another. In a similar system to Western art, marketing Aboriginal art and artists is crucial for public exposure.
The problem here however is the fact that Indigenous communities have little or no control over the market and the distribution of their art is mostly controlled by non-Indigenous elites.

The phenomenon of artist Emily Kam Kngwarray is an issue that is often contested and debated. Her prominent works, such as Big yam Dreaming (1995), and Yam Awelye (1995) are internationally renowned for their gorgeous aesthetics; this is achieved through her bold, bright and pleasing colour combinations, lines and abstract designs. Her exhibition in the Osaka National Museum of Art in early 2008 (and in Tokyo later that year) was praised with great reviews. Emily is constantly compared to Western abstract artists such as Kandinsky and Mondrian, and because of this ‘familiarity’ which sets her apart from other Aboriginal artists, Emily’s works have easily catered to the Western/international audiences. To claim that Emily’s works resemble the other works of Abstract Expressionists is to relate images from an entirely unrelated cultural context. This is inescapably Eurocentric—to seek an understanding of the unfamiliar and pose it against something that is familiar is a potentially imperialistic intention.

There are many problems inherently attached to the politics and marketing of Aboriginal art. The issues discussed are only a fraction of the underlying predicaments in regards to Indigenous art and the communities associated with it, and it is crucial to escape from dominant Eurocentric discourses when discussing Aboriginal art. The community’s relation to the artwork as well as the Aboriginal values placed on the works must also be considered.

The Fox's Sun, oil on linen, 122 x 168 cm

Luminous verdure encircles completive abodes in Alice Byrne’s new series of works Into the Wald. Glowing oils and delicate, intimate watercolours hang side by side on the walls of the James Makin Gallery in Collingwood, cushioning the viewer who enters this space from the galleries urban surroundings.

Alice Byrne is a Melbourne artist who has long sought out houses for subject matter, deconstructing architectural forms into their essential elements and transforming landscape into portraiture. In soft glazes of oil paint, Byrne blurs the edges of luminous fields of colour to explore intriguing compositional possibilities that once lay dormant.

This exhibition sees an introduction of new elements, disturbing the peace that was once so important in certain previous works, and bringing a sense of the unknown. Returning to a small disused school-house in rural Victoria, Byrne investigates both its remoteness and seeming absorption into its rich wooded surroundings. The high German word wald used in the title of this exhibition alludes to an idyllic, unspoilt wilderness that both captivates and forbids. It’s associated with ideas of a European forest as imagined in literature and folklore, representing the uncontrolled and unfamiliar. By using the term wald to describe the place depicted, Byrne immediately conjures a mythic world heavy with mysterious connotations.

Way Through, water colour on paper, 25.9 x 37.6 cm

The rich, overgrown surroundings are painted with relish, twisted foliage and organic forms encroach on the solitary building, and striking combinations of colour play out against each other. Light filters through the branches and leaves, leaving behind dazzling reflections that glimmer on the forest floor. What is created is a place both comforting and alluring – yet containing a perceptible threat perched on the edge of the subconsciousness. This unidentifiable presence, this menace to the gentle peacefulness of nature, is the thing you feel when alone in the wild. This presence gives the works their subtle tension and their potential to stretch the imagination.

Grounded, oil on linen, 113.5 x 85 cm

Shadows appear, and figures can be made out in the sidelines. Like the buildings, these figures both belong and intrude on their surroundings, and their surroundings both accept and deny their presence. The figures mark the entrance of the human form in Byrne’s work, taking the work a step closer to narrative. Ultimately Byrne leaves the viewer to infer what they will, and this open ended quality transports the viewer into the wald created, making them a part of the process of creating. This house can be a shelter and comfort, or just the illusion of refuge that promises something else.

Showing until November 7th 2009 at James Makin Gallery.