Don’t miss Peter Walsh fundraising auction this weekend: Go because he was a great bloke, go because it’s a great cause, or go because there’ll be some great art to buy

15 05 2009

Melbourne artist Peter Walsh really was one of the good guys. One of the best, truth be told. His premature and tragic death from that most evil of diseases, cancer, in January this year left the local art scene bereft. A brilliant raconteur, with a devilish sense of humour that would leave you doubled up with laughter, Pete was also a damn fine painter. One of his works, Momentary Landscape, is pictured at left (image via Mossgreen). 

In the interest of disclosure, I love Pete’s work, and bought a few pieces from him over the years.  I knew him moderately well – and treasured the acquaintance. As did most of us hardcore St. Kilda night owls who trawled the cooler-than-fuck pubs and wine bars during the ’90s. But we’ve all grown up a fair bit since then. For his part, Pete moved onto much better things. Namely, the wonderful Lisa Walker – a great chick and a brilliant photographer. And I’ve seldom seen a man so smitten by his children. I’d often bump into him outside Brew-ha-ha in Blessington Street after I’d bought my morning latte – I’d be clutching my coffee, he’d be carrying Hazel, his eldest daughter, his brown eyes sparkling. Lisa and Pete had another beautiful daughter, Alice, a few years later. By then they had extricated themselves from the seedy but delicious streets of St. Kilda, and taken up residence in the leafy, conservative climes of Malvern. To hear Pete wax lyrical about the change of scenery from inner city to affluent suburbia was hilarious. I still can’t believe he’s gone. Nor can the throngs of people who packed a Toorak cathedral to farewell him, I’ll wager. It was a send-off worthy of a man who could justifiably call thousands of people, ‘friend’.

So – a clarion call to any of you within coo-ee of Melbourne over the next few days… a veritable ‘Who’s Who’ of the Australian art world have donated artworks to an auction that’s to be held at Deutscher-Hackett this Sunday. Given Pete’s legendary sense of humour, the auction has the appropriately irreverent title: ‘For Pete’s Sake’. Proceeds from the auction are going into a trust account for the financial support of Pete’s daughters, who are now just three and seven.”Which artists?” you ask – think of the name, and they’ll be on the list. Mike Parr, Gareth Sansom,  Callum Morton, David Larwill, Rosslyn Piggott, Guan Wei, Lewis Miller, Imants Tiller… the list goes on. And on. It’s a shining testament to just how well-regarded Pete was in the art world.

Get on your bikes and get down to Prahran for the viewing and auction. Quickly! If not because it’s a good cause, which it is, then go along because it represents an opportunity to buy some seriously good art by most of Australia’s best living artists. Oh, and Deutscher-Hackett is waiving buyer’s premium for the auction, not to mention providing the venue, staff and running the auction. Nice work. 

What: ‘For Pete’s Sake’ auction

Where: Deutscher and Hackett, 105 Commercial Road, South Yarra 3121

When: Preview dates – Thursday 14 May to Sunday 17 May, 11.00am-6.00pm.

Auction: Sunday 17 May, 6pm, Deutscher and Hackett, 105 Commercial Road, South Yarra 3121





No wonder he’s hiding: Sydney bikies on the hunt for runaway art dealer Ron Coles and their missing millions

14 05 2009

In a jaw-dropping story published in the Sydney Morning Herald, it is revealed that the Australian art world’s man on the run, Ron Coles, is being pursued by what is described as an ‘outlaw bikie gang’. Although they didn’t specify exactly which outlaw bikie gang it is, I doubt it’s of the relatively blancmange ‘Brando in The Wild One‘ variety whose most threatening move would have been to throw a double choc-malt milkshake in your face. Anyway, it seems Coles may have absconded with millions of dollars belonging to this group of bikies. The article implies that he was laundering their money through his ‘Investment Gallery’, buying art with slightly tarnished cash and handing back wads of crisp, clean, brand-spanking new legitimate moola.

I don’t know quite what to say to this. Other than… ARE YOU INSANE?

Oh. And Run, Ron, Run.





The Torment of Sotheby’s: Did a Michelangelo Painting Slip Through their Fingers?

13 05 2009

I’ve always had a soft spot for Michelangelo. Think of it as a schoolgirl crush which germinated when I fell head over heels in love with David at the age of fourteen or so. No matter that his splendour was somewhat tarnished by the fly-spotted, discoloured slide projected in art history class in high school. Since then, I’ve developed an abiding passion for the art of printmaking. And in the meantime, I’ve been intrigued by images of the Torment of St. Anthony… Martin Schongauer’s is one of my favourites. His demons always remind me of the Hindu/Buddhist divinity, Garuda (image right). 

 

So, imagine my joy when I discovered that all three things may well be combined in a single image (pictured above). Kimbell Art Gallery in Fort Worth, Texas, picked it up for a song – they believe that it was painted by Michelangelo at the age of 12 or 13 after Schongauer’s print (around 1487 or so). Adam Williams, an art dealer, bought it from Sotheby’s where it was catalogued as ‘Workshop of Domenico Ghirlandaio’ – where Michelangelo served his apprenticeship. It is believed that the Kimbell then bought it for about $6 million. Although the authorship is disputed, it’s a stunning painting.

Oh, please let it be true, art-world pixies. I want to believe!

Images: The Torment of St. Anthony – The New York Times; Garuda – blog.baliwww.com





What Have We ‘Ear? New Theory About Van Gogh’s Ear Loss

6 05 2009

Van Gogh's Self-Portrait with Bandaged Ear and Pipe.

 Please accept my humble apologies for the appallingly cheezee header. Couldn’t resist. And it was either that or “Did you ‘ear the one about Van Gogh and Gauguin?”

Anyway, it seems that ears are the new black in the art world. Who’d have thought? On the one hand, we have a new theory from two German art historians who claim that Van Gogh didn’t sever his own ear, proposing instead that it was slashed off by the artist’s roommate, Paul Gauguin, during a quarrel. In their book, Van Gogh’s Ear: Paul Gauguin and the Pact of Silence, the title of which sounds suspiciously like it’s been borrowed from a Harry Potter tome, Hans Kaufmann and Rita Wildegans conclude that the two artists agreed to cover up the fracas by inventing the story that Van Gogh cut off his ear himself to offer as a love trophy to a favourite prostitute. It was that, or Gauguin would have faced prosecution. And so the myth of crazy old Van Gogh was born, and Gauguin took off for the South Pacific. The rest, as they say (who ‘they’ may be, I am not entirely sure), is history.artist Stelarc

Elsewhere, stalwart Australian performance artist, Stelarc, who has had a stellar career based on the transformation of his own body, has had an ear implant placed under the skin on his forearm. He plans to have it wired up so that people can phone his ‘ear’, and when they speak the sounds will come out of his mouth.

Shame Van Gogh isn’t still around, really. These two artists were born for each other. I can hear the conversation between him and Stelarc now –

Ring, ring… [Stelarc answers his arm-ear/phone]

“Hello, Stelarc here. Who’s speaking?”

“Stelarc… Maaate… It’s Vincent. Can you lend me an ear?”

It’s all very ear-ie. Tee hee.

Images: Van Gogh – The Age; Stelarc – The Mirror





Murder, Prostitution and Corruption in 17th Century Amsterdam? Peter Greenaway Casts a Jaundiced Eye on Rembrandt’s ‘Night Watch’

5 05 2009

 

 

 

 

A valiant group of civil militia, heading out into the streets to enforce law and order in seventeenth century Amsterdam? Or a clique of corrupt street thugs terrorising the populace? In a documentary to be screened at the San Francisco Film Festival, Rembrandt’s J’Accuse, legendary filmmaker Peter Greenaway proposes the latter (Greenaway is pictured on the set of J’Accuse in the image below). 

Rembrandt’s famed painting The Company of Frans Banning Cocq and Willem van Ruytenburch, now commonly known by its popular name, The Night Watch, is the star attraction at Amsterdam’s Rijksmuseum. It is generally believed to depict a group of arquebusiers led by their Captain through the streets of Amsterdam. It was commissioned as a group portrait, glorifying the company and its leaders.

Greenaway interprets the painting somewhat differently, though. He believes that Rembrandt embedded coded messages in the painting that would have been legible to seventeenth-century viewers. The message? That all was not as it seemed with this group of hirsute, spiffily dressed, and carefully coiffed gentlemen. The golden-haired child at the centre-left of the painting according to Greenaway’s version was a prostitute from an brothel where members of the militia could be serviced by underage orphans. And the figure of Frans Banning Cocq, dressed in black and with a blood-red sash, becomes Satan, leading his company into hell.

The head of the Rembrandt Research Project, Ernst van de Wetering, has expressed concern that Greenaway’s interpretation will be “so misleading to the general ill-informed public”. Now he knows how Da Vinci might have felt about Dan Brown’s venture into the realm of visual analysis.

For some reason that completely escapes me, The Night Watch has attracted its fair share of deranged attention over the years. It is a stunningly complex and visually enthralling painting, but I’ve never understood how or why it has become the object of destructive attacks at the hands of the mentally deranged. It’s been seriously damaged twice – the first time by an unemployed school teacher, who slashed it with a knife numerous times in 1975. Another man sprayed acid onto the painting in 1990. They mustn’t have liked the way the little child (or orphan prostitute, if you prefer Greenaway’s interpretation) was looking at them.

Each to their own, I suppose. It’s yet another example of how an artwork’s meaning can be completely altered by the historical, mythological and theoretical framework that builds up around it after it’s made.

The things that happen to an artwork as it moves through history, and the myriad interpretations made by countless people each of whom brings to the painting a unique perspective borne of personal experience can alter a painting’s meaning, and can even affect its physical form. By this I mean that the painting you see before you is not frozen in time – it undergoes a metamorphosis of sorts just by moving through history. This change can be physical and metaphysical. For example, restoration undertaken in 1975-6 revealed that contrary to prevailing wisdom, The Night Watch was set in daylight – the nocturnal atmosphere observed prior to that date, which led people to erroneously dub the painting ‘The Night Watch’, was imparted by an accumulation of grot, grime and smoke. The painting was also cropped on all four sides in 1715 or so when it was moved from the Kloveniersdoelen in Amsterdam to the Stadhuis, in the process losing two figures on the left margin. We can get an idea of what the painting looked like prior to its trimming from a copy painted by Gerrit Lunden in the mid-1600s.

Which all goes to prove that more often than not, an artwork can be much more than meets the eye. Although I’m not very convinced by the devil in black boots and knee-high hooker theory. I’ll get back to you once I’ve seen the film.

Images: Rembrandt’s ‘Night Watch’ – Delhi University; Greenaway on the set of ‘J’Accuse’ – Art News





“Please look after this bear. Thank you.”: Oops! Glastonbury council destroys Banksy’s Paddington Bear.

1 05 2009

Uh oh. Seems some overly zealous council workers have painted over one of Banksy’s Paddington Bear stencils in Glastonbury during an anti-graffiti blitz.

This wouldn’t be the first time one of Banksy’s works met such a fate. In Melbourne, we had a little Banksy of our own, ‘Little Diver’. The owners of the building whose wall the artist tackled with his spray-can covered said stencil with a sheet of perspex to protect and preserve it. But, in a perverse twist of fate, another, rather more prosaic, practitioner of wall defacement poured silver paint behind the sheet of perspex and scribbled ‘Banksy Woz Ere’ across the face of it.Image from Web. Showing a Banksy artwork. 131208.

Could this be the inevitable fate of much stencil art? I mean, it’s a curator’s worst nightmare… an artwork, exposed in a public space, indistinguishable for all intents and purposes from the colourful tags that surround it. Besides which, given that street art began as what amounts to a guerrilla movement, disseminated under cover of dark and anonymity, should it be left to its fate? Purists would probably argue yes. But that’s unlikely once the market gets its hands on it. Once an example of street art has a tangible financial value placed upon it, there’s no way it will be left to deteriorate and succumb to destructive environmental elements. This is exactly what happened here in Melbourne, where a massive mural painted by Keith Haring on an exterior wall of the Collingwood Technical School in 1984 has been listed with Heritage Victoria to ensure its preservation, despite much debate about the artist’s intention. Painting it in such an exposed location, Haring would have known that it would deteriorate over the years. Was that as important a facet of the artwork as its actual execution? Or would he have wished to see it restored and preserved? Impossible to say – Haring died in 1990.

Interesting conundrum, though. 

Image: Banksy ‘Little Diver’, before and after: ‘The Age’








Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 36 other followers