Sunday, January 22, 2017
I've never been to a music festival before and so, when I won a ticket to attend SUGAR MOUNTAIN at Victorian College of the Arts (thanks to a Melbourne University Alumni competition) I was naturally excited, but also a little apprehensive thinking about how I was going to cope with the noise and movement, since both can trigger a vestibular migraine. Although the one day festival ran from 11.30 am to 11pm, I decided to arrive early and see as much as I could before the bulk of the crowd poured through the gates.
SUGAR MOUNTAIN was an extremely organized event and we all moved through the entrance quite quickly even though security officers were inspecting the inside of bags.
Whilst I was waiting I met the very lovely Myriam Bleu, an experimental electronic music performer from Canada who had undertaken a Masters in Classical music, played guitar for years and found that experimentation allowed her to explore her creativity at a greater level. I also met a performer called Young TapZ from New Zealand.
I didn't meet, but took a photo of Supergroup from London. Their minimalist, colorful works graced the entrance to the festival.
I left at around 3.15pm because I was thoroughly exhausted walking from one area to another - each stage was set up in different areas of VCA; listening to music, eating my lunch, trying to find a vendor selling coffee and then attempting to locate a seat in the shade.
Much I what I heard I liked, however only survived the onslaught of electronic sounds by the fact that a female security officer gave me some small ear-plugs, which I used whilst listening to the high pitched sounds of Sui Zhen.
I really loved the band with the guy wearing fish-net stocking until the low base rumble was so loud it felt like an earthquake had traversed my body, causing heart palpitations and I had to get away from their sounds as fast as I could.
I really wish the bands could have turned it down a notch or two. A four year old child walking alongside her tattoo covered mother seemed to express exactly what I was thinking as she had her hands placed over her ears. This all sounds like I didn't enjoy myself and yet I did. The attendees were pleasant, the crowd orderly, the security guards helpful. Here's some random photos of bands and people attending the festival who caught my eye. The only band name I remember was Weyes Blood - I took this photo before their performance.
And finally, a selfie in front of weird mirror distortion artwork.
Thursday, January 19, 2017
|Dove skeleton. Photo: Julie Clarke (c) 2017|
I can't believe that almost eighteen days has already slipped by in 2017. The recent heat wave made Winter dissolve into faded memory, a reminder to me of that old, but wise saying 'even this will pass'. Over the past five days I've read Adolf Hitler's Mein Kampf (My Struggle). I wouldn't generally attempt to read a 572 page tome - just the density of such a book would be off putting.
I've been taking photographs of what I'm calling Urban Inscription, I suppose others might call mark making on walls and buildings as tagging or graffiti, but since they form part of the aesthetics of our environment, they add to the flavour of urban life. I'll post them on this blog when I've taken a few more. I find that I almost always take photographs when I'm not ready to paint or draw - the canvas I bought in the new year is still in its wrapper and I'm daunted by the silence of its white, emptiness.
I look out to my courtyard. The half a dozen or so Begonia's are in flower, the black birds, sparrows and doves are eating the oats I provide for them each day. It's quiet, save for the sound of traffic. Things remain the same, whilst simultaneously becoming different.
I finally opened the dove egg that fell out of the nest in mid December. The body of the little unborn dove had dried up. Its skeleton, barely a few centimeters long was all that was inside the shell. A bizzare and somewhat disturbing image. Even so, I photographed it (above).
Tuesday, January 10, 2017
Because I saw and photographed some hot air balloons early this morning, I decided to hunt down other photos I've taken of various hot air balloons I've seen over my place over the past three years. I hope you enjoy seeing them.
|10 January 2017.|
Monday, January 9, 2017
I'd been feeling rather confined during the heatwave. Sure, I could get out in the mornings and go to the gymnasium and do a little shopping, but then, because of the radiant heat and temperatures souring above 30C degrees I was trapped inside. It might have been intolerable except that the test cricket was absorbing and although Australia won 3/0, it may have been due to Pakistan's pathetic fielding. Anyway, yesterday I thought it was going to be more of the same, but the cool change occurred around 12.30 and I headed off to the Victoria Gardens shopping centre to check out some post Christmas sales. When I came out of the centre I crossed the road determined to walk along that small walk bridge that traverses the Yarra. It didn't happen due to my balance issues and my slight fear of heights. It's still one of my challenges for the year. I felt at least that I'd achieved something when I took a photo of this wonderful example of urban inscription on a wall near a large empty block in Victoria Street. You will notice the iconic Skipping Girl sign in the distance.
|Urban Inscription. Photo: Julie Clarke (c) 2017|
I'd planned to go and see Deborah Conway and Willy Zygier who were performing for Sunset Sounds a free City of Stonnington music event and so I took a tram down Chapel Street to High Street, Prahran and then walked the four blocks up to Victoria Park. I was a little disappointed that instead of 6pm, Deborah and Willy were scheduled to begin their performance at 7.30, meaning that I'd be travelling home after dark. However both she and Willy were in the audience and I took a couple of candid photographs of Willy playing his guitar and one of Deborah, Willy (and friend?).
|Willy Zygier. Photo: Julie Clarke (c) 2017|
|Deborah Conway, Willy Zygier and friend? Photo: Julie Clarke (c) 2017|
Although I couldn't stay for Deborah and Willy's performance I did hear half a dozen songs from Sal Kimber and The Rollin' Wheel. Sal's music takes listeners on a journey through country, fold, rock and pop. I could tell by the lyrics of her songs that she is greatly moved by people in country Victoria.
|Photo: Julie Clarke (c) 2017|
|Sal Kimber before the performance. Photo: Julie Clarke (c) 2017|
It was a lovely atmosphere in the park. Hundreds of people sitting in what looked like an amphitheatre in the amply shaded park, which was built in 1887. I had never been there before and was amazed that such a beautiful oasis was tucked away in an otherwise built up area.
|Crowd in Victoria Gardens. Photo: Julie Clarke (c) 2017|
Wednesday, January 4, 2017
I'm dismayed that not much has changed over the past decades and that there has been a rise in drowing deaths this Summer.
|Article from The Argus, December 2, 1935|
Although I could swim a little and had during the summer months of my childhood jumped in rivers and creeks around Wangaratta to keep cool, it was only after my grandmother (who I lived with) moved to Altona that I experience my first real experience of being in deep beach water. My grandmother always anxious when we (my two sisters and myself) headed off, reminded us that our two Aunties had drowned. Indeed on Sunday, 1 Dec, 1935 Margaret Joyce Clarke aged 13 and Isabelle Clarke aged 10, drowned at Elwood Beach. They were two of the five children who lost their lives that afternoon in 88.6F (29C) degrees heat.
|My learn to swim certificate 1963|
I count myself lucky that in 1963 we were enrolled in a Herald Sun learn to swim program through the local council and I was proud that I could swim 25 yards. I'm afraid that being able to swim meant that I had more confidence than I previously had around water and admit to doing some silly things, like swim to the end of Altona pier where I was pushed and bashed by the surging water and suffered scratched and bleeding legs from the sharp barnacles attached to pier pylons. Later, when I was 18 years old I swam to the middle of Lake Learmonth in Ballarat and back to shore. I was severely exhausted, sunburnt and suffered heatstroke for two days. In 1970 my nephew died trying to save a friend from drowning. Water safety is paramount in my mind because of the trauma it caused to our family.
This blog post is to remind people not only to watch small children around water, but to remind teenagers and older adults that just because you can swim doesn't mean that you can do stupid things or swim out too far in the ocean. Even strong swimmers can drown. Drinking alcohol and going into the pool or beach water is a recipe for disaster as is ignoring information provided by Life Savers. Always swim between the flags, that way if you get into trouble the life savers will be able to see you. Above all, don't get caught up in being competative or macho, it could cause your own death and the death of someone trying to save you! If you can't swim don't be tempted to walk into deep water and above all, don't swim alone.
Monday, January 2, 2017
Loving science fiction films as I do, I eagerly awaited the release of Passengers (Morton Tyldum, 2016), which I saw yesterday at the Kino Cinema in Collins Street, Melbourne.
Passengers is a visually stunning film. The sparse interior design of the Starship Avalon gives more than a nod to Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), an interesting contrast I think with the almost Baroque, elaborate design and detail of the ship's exterior as it moves silently through space.
The Starship depicts a world not dissimilar to our own and one we are moving progressively towards. It is an environment inhabited by computer screens, avatars and holograms, automated food dispensers, electronic communication, surveillance systems and robots that look human and dispense philosophy as one liners, as readily as they fill a glass or retrieve detritus from the floor. Human beings in this Starship world are in suspended animation like those poor souls attached to life support systems in hospital intensive care units, an indictment on our current sedentary lifestyle occasioned by advanced technologies as well as an allegory of the existential anxiety experienced by the loneliness of the individual in an increasingly dehumanized, mechanized society. Already many individuals experience little human contact except that afforded by advanced communications technologies, virtual reality, robots, video, text messages and voice recognition. For Jim, human touch and feeling is essential and he demonstrates Arthur's (Michael Sheen) a robotic barman, inability to experience either by hitting him in the face during one of their various conversations.
The narrative surrounds Jim Preston (Chris Pratt), a mechanical engineer and Aurora Lane (Jennifer Lawrence) a writer, who are passengers on the Starship Avalon woken ninety years prematurely from induced hibernation on their 120 year journey to a new planet called Homestead II. Jim who wakes first due to a system failure caused by the ships impact with a celestial body, is faced with the ominous fact that he's the only conscious being out of the 5,259 crew and passengers. He discovers he is unable to re-enter his pod and return to a state of hibernation, so embarks on a series of endeavors, including an unsuccessful attempt to break through the door to the ship's control area.
After many conversations with Arthur, who suggests he enjoy the now, rather than dwelling on what is absent in his life, a philosophy associated with mindfulness, Jim appears to accepts his fate. He engages in the many pleasurable pursuits available to him. He eats, dances and plays sport with holographic avatars. He sleeps, walks around naked, grows his beard and dons a suit that enables him to safely walk in space. However compliant and pleasant Arthur is, Jim notes that Arthur cannot feel and so, his apparent human qualities remain sterile. A period of depression follows in which Jim considers suicide. However, this is not the only dark moment of the film for each time Jim engages with the barman we are reminded of Kubrick's other masterpiece The Shining (1980) and the sinister act that follows after Jack leaves the bar, heralding perhaps Jim's excursion into an immoral and irretrievable act.
After walking through a room filled with sleep pods he is attracted to a female passenger called Aurora. He accesses her electronic file and discovers she's a writer. He consults the hibernation manual with a view to waking her and is immediately faced with the moral dilemma of whether or not he should embark on such an endeavor, knowing full well she would never reach Homestead II and would be psychologically scarred as he has been by being prematurely woken from his journey. We are aware that he has been awake and without human company for one year and has exhausted all possibilities on the ship so can understand his desire for human company.
The problem many might have with this film is that the woman he wants to wake in order to lesson his boredom on his long and arduous journey is young, attractive and intelligent. The other issue of course is his total self-absorption and his utter selfishness at wanting to intervene in the course of Aurora's life. One must ask, if he has the ability to wake people from hibernation he might have done a little more research and attempted to wake technicians capable of identifying and fixing the damage done to the space ship.
He wakes her and their relationship is immediately built on a lie for he omits to tell her why she's awake when everyone else is asleep. He discovers quickly that unlike him she has a gold pass and is able to access better quality food for him. She has become more than useful and becomes Jim's love (sex) interest. She is, according to Arthur 'a great choice'. Jim is fully aware that given he's the only male awake on the ship Aurora would direct her libido towards him. He's in the ideal position of having no competitors for her affections and, apart from her own resilience and determination, she would be totally reliant on him. Everything works in his favor until she is innocently told by Arthur that Jim is responsible for waking her up. She is, of course extremely angry and unequivocally inconsolable, but is called into action when a number of vital systems on the ship begin to corrupt the general workings, causing chaos, her near death and the early awakening of chief deck officer, Gus (Laurence Fishburne) who advises Jim and Aurora that there are multiple system failures including damage to the reactor, which they attempt to fix. Jim's tether on his space suit breaks loose after he has successfully vented the reactor and Aurora retrieves and resuscitates him, saving him again from dying alone. He later discovers that the scanner pod will enable only one individual to be re-hibernated and he offers this service to Aurora, who decides to remain with him.
The final scene in the film shows the crew and other passengers entering the main deck, which is overrun with various flora and fauna, which must have been grown and nurtured by Jim and Aurora during the past eight eight years. One can only imagine that this scene serves to reveal how the main protagonist have humanized their environment by introducing a natural/organic, rather than a synthetic one on the ship and we are expected to believe that Jim is exonerated for his initial behavior by the fact that they have obviously discovered a way to reconcile the past. A voice-over suggests that Aurora has written the book that she began shortly after she was woken by Jim.
I am left wondering what was Homestead I?. Is it a name for Earth or was it another planet that was inhabited by human beings? The final scene does not reveal the presence of children so one can only assume that they were elsewhere on the ship or Jim and Aurora did not produce any progeny. I found this visually interesting film, but fraught with problems.
Wednesday, December 28, 2016
|Fidder Beetle. Photo: Julie Clarke (c)) 2016|
I'm awake at my usual time of 5.20 am or so and Christmas day has come and gone and thanks to a few family and friends I had a lovely time. My son Erin gave me a Eupoecila Australasiae (a scarab commonly known as a Fiddler Beetle because markings on its back resemble sound holes on a violin/fiddle) to add to my small collection of insects. Its warning colors (aposematism) of yellow and brown tell predators that it's poisonous or tastes bad. He gave me the beetle in a small tin, which originally held lip balm. The little tin in itself is a treasure.
|Eastern Blue-tongue lizard. Photo: Laura Feeger (c) 2016|
My son's partner Laura took a photograph of the Eastern blue-tongue lizard that's eating snails in their suburban garden in Croydon South. Both these photographs and my own photograph of two ducks in Treasury Gardens, Melbourne last week made me think about camouflage and display, things that use their bodies to disguise themselves in their surroundings and those that want to be seen.
More on this another time. Meanwhile time for us to consider the year that was and the new year. To all my readers may you have a wonderful 2017.
Wednesday, December 21, 2016
I don't know about you but I'm thoroughly tired of hearing about the Islamic terrorist attack in Berlin and the many deaths and injuries. The shooting death of the Russian ambassaror in a Turkey art gallery, grevious bodily harm and subsequent death of a two year old child, domestic violence, a fly-by shooting at the office of the CFMEU; the stabbing (in the hand) of the tennis player Petra Kvitova, the terrible accident in which concrete slabs fell and killed a stone mason, the desperation of the Syrian people, the impending cyclone off the coast of Western Australia and the deaths from an explosion in a fireworks factory in Mexico. No wonder some people have given up watching the news and choose instead to watch trashy television. The lead up to Christmas then, is a time to escape into fantasy, a time when we allow ourselves to believe that things can be different; that Christmas, rather than a celebration on one day of the year is a period of cushioning ourselves from the terrors in world by surrounding ourselves with family and friends.
I'm desperate for some good news stories, at least enough to balance out the horrendous local and international stories being reported. I'm desirous of hearing about kindness, warmth, sharing and achievement; people loving each other rather than the absolute hatred and disregard that some people direct toward others. I wish that the tinsel and bright lights of this holiday season, the decorative trees and houses, the red Santa hats, the food, the presents and merriment leading up to the 25 December made a difference. To me the onslaught of negative news takes the edge of the notion of 'peace and goodwill to all men' (and women). For me, Christmas is shrouded in a delirium that I cannot shake. But, I vow to keep trying
To all my readers and to those who share my posts I wish you inner peace and love for the holiday season and all the very best for 2017.