The bells, the bells…

Melbourne is host to a remarkable work of sculpture, in the form of the Federation Bells. Part sound installation, part open-air instrument, this ensemble of tuned percussion represents a quirky exercise in public access arts: not only do the Bells play three times a day (featuring a repertoire of specially-composed pieces), there are also opportunities for members of the public to interact directly with the instrument and play it for themselves.From time to time, the Bells have featured in live performances by contemporary composers and electronic musicians, most notably, Pantha Du Prince back in 2013. More recently, Melbourne artist Cale Sexton has released a wonderful album that was composed using the Bells.

There is also a mobile phone app that replicates the notation and sound of the Bells, as well as plug-ins for various digital audio workstations. For anyone wanting to learn more about composing for the Bells, there are occasional workshops and open competitions for new submissions.

Next week: New Labor?

Getting out of town

This week, if all had gone to plan, I would have been reflecting on my latest stay in regional Victoria. Instead, Melbourne is under lock-down #6, and my mini-break out of the city had to be abandoned. But at least I managed to enjoy a great lunch and a walk in the country, before day release came to an end, and I had less than 4 hours’ notice to get back to town ahead of the latest curfew.

Greetings from Castlemaine – local art for local people….

Despite the abrupt end to my trip, the few hours of freedom were enough to remind me of the benefit (and downside) of living in a regional town.

First, regional and rural towns provide a great sense of belonging. You can experience a form of community in Melbourne’s urban and inner-city areas, but the connections don’t always run as deep, and they can be quite transactional and event-driven – meeting up to watch sport, going to the pub or catching up for dinner. Whereas, regional communities just “are”, and are always there to offer support, especially during challenging times.

Second, people living in regional areas tend to have a very different perspective and outlook on things, with a healthier approach to work/life balance. They have a greater appreciation of the country, nature and the land on which they live – something we can overlook or take for granted in our urban bubbles.

Third, rural and regional towns come with their own individual personalities and identities – something seriously lacking in our sprawling new suburbs with their increasingly cookie-cutter homes, and distinct lack of character.

The recent pandemic has shown that if you can work remotely, and don’t need to meet colleagues or clients face-to-face, regional centres are very attractive locations (even for a temporary tree/sea-change). But while the locals may welcome your city spending power in their shops and cafes, they may not appreciate the impact on property prices.

However, regional towns can take a while to warm to new-comers, and in these edgy pandemic times, strangers are viewed with as much suspicion as they are curiosity. More than once on recent trips I have noticed the locals almost crossing the street to avoid getting too close to the out-of-towners. Not quite dueling banjos (or the country pub scene in “An American Werewolf in London“…), but enough to suggest visitors are not entirely welcome.

Small towns are also notorious for everyone knowing each others’ business, where you can’t even sneeze without the rest of the village knowing about it. It can get to the point of suffocation, along with repressed emotions and dreadful secrets, especially where local traditions are based on very conservative (even regressive) values, beliefs and prejudices. (I was reminded of this recently when watching “The Last Picture Show”.)

In case this reads as overly pessimistic, I should emphasize that I really enjoy visiting regional Victorian towns (lock-down permitting), as they offer a rich variety of scenery and local produce – even if I can’t get there as often as I’d like these days, it’s good to know they are there. (And my wine cellar would be poorer for the lack of choice…)

Next week: More Music for Lock-down

RONE in Geelong

Public art galleries need to attract paying customers if their funding derived from government grants is being cut. To pull in the punters, galleries have to resort to “blockbuster” exhibitions. In these uncertain, post lock-down times, the lack of international tourists means that galleries are forced to focus on local audiences. It’s good to showcase local talent in the shape of conquering heroes returning to their roots.

These may have been some of the arguments behind the Geelong Art Gallery‘s decision to mount a retrospective exhibition featuring the work of street artist Tryone Power (aka RONE). Of course, the planning began long before COVID struck, but otherwise the above assumptions would seem to be valid.

Let’s acknowledge the positives of this show: First, it is certainly pulling in the punters, and helping to bring in visitors and their wallets to the town. Second, it is hopefully creating a platform for future exhibitions, and public engagement with the Gallery itself. Third, it’s nice that a locally-born artist is being recognised (even if he has had to travel afar to make a name for himself at home).

Unfortunately, that’s where it ends, for me. My recent visit was probably the shortest time I have spent in an exhibition which I had paid to see. Overall, I found the work vapid – there was nothing of substance (nor anything challenging) underneath the painted surface, or behind the concept of “beauty and decay”. As a street artist, RONE does not have the wit or depth of a Banksy; as a conceptual/installation artist, he’s no Christo. The main images he creates or imposes on his work are highly stylised and extremely idealised portraits of young women – it’s a very limited exploration of “beauty”. At best, the work reveal something interesting about abandoned and overlooked locations. At worst, the installation reeked of interior decor magazines and displayed a taste for romanticised and sentimental kitsch.

Which is all a great shame, because given RONE’s apparent interest in deserted and decaying structures, there is a deep and rich vein of Australian Gothic he could have tapped into. (In comparison, think of the work of Nick Cave, Peter Weir, Peter Carey, Julia deVille, Rosalie Ham, etc.)

Despite the use of physical objects, this exhibition felt very one-dimensional. Artists as disparate as Helen Chadwick, Paola Rego, Cindy Sherman and Rachel Whiteread have all deployed notions of female beauty, decay, abandonment and destruction to far greater effect and impact.

Next week: Intersekt FinTech Pitch Night

Social Distancing in Victorian Melbourne…

At the time of writing Victorians, like most of Australia, are living under a Covid19 “stay at home and practise social distancing” regime in attempt to “flatten the curve” and reduce the spread of this contagion. I have been working from home for 3 weeks, only going out for essential food shopping and a daily walk for exercise (since my gym is closed). This perambulation has revealed some lesser-seen aspects of Melbourne (apart from the empty streets), including the way the modern city’s 19th century founders went about their approach to urban design – including some examples of built-in social distancing.

The first example is the number of public parks and gardens close to the CBD that were established in the 1800s, and which have managed to survive the onslaught of developers. As we know, public parks, with their trees and green spaces act as the lungs of the city, and provide a place to exercise, relax and get some fresh air. So we need these facilities more than ever in times like these. (Strange why the Victorian Government still insists in allowing vehicles to use the culturally and historically significant Yarra Park as a public car park on so many days, with all the horticultural and environmental damage that this causes…)

Second, the decision to incorporate lane-ways into the grid design of the CBD, as well as throughout the 19th century expansion of the inner city suburbs. While their design was mainly pragmatic (ease of access for night carts, storm drainage), the result is that in densely-built areas such as Richmond, Carlton, East Melbourne, Fitzroy and Collingwood, lane-ways mean even terraced houses can have ample space between them and the next block, allowing for better ventilation, natural light and reduced risk of disease. (For an example of the lane-ways importance to Melbourne’s character and psyche, check out Daniel Crooks’ video, “An Embroidery of Voids”.)

Third, the decision not to build right up to the urban banks of the Yarra River (and the straightening and leveling of the river itself) has left them accessible to the public, both as a means of cycling and walking to/from work, and for recreational purposes. In many cities, riverfront access has largely been blocked off as adjacent land has been appropriated for private, commercial and industrial use.

At a time like this, I truly appreciate the foresight of Melbourne’s Victorian town planners – I just hope we can continue to enjoy their legacy in the coming weeks and months!

Next week: #Rona19 – beyond the memes