Sydney

I’ve always liked the witty, organic forms of Fiona Hall’s sculpture. A massive collection of her work, Fiona Hall: Force Field, currently fills two floors of Sydney’s Museum of Contemporary Art. It’s an almost overwhelming but immensely satisfying journey through her mind.

The photograph shows details from “Tender”, a collection of birds’ nests made from shredded US dollar bills. They’re incredibly realistic — especially in the exhibition environment where they’re collected into museum-style glass cases with each species’ nest labelled with its scientific name on the front of the case, the banknotes’ serial numbers listed on the back.

Other works include the finely-detailed sculptures of Paradisus Terrestris made from sardine cans, Scar Tissue, Understorey, Cell Culture and Leaf Litter. There’s also a smattering her photographs, and something about bees.

Cell Culture and many other works such as Dead in the Water are constructed from myriad tiny glass beads threaded on fine wire, shaped with loving attention to detail into precise organic forms. Photographs do not do them justice — you must see them in three dimensions, walk around them, revel in their reality. A video shot on a tropical field trip with botanists in search of blooming water lilies reveals Hall’s passion for getting it right.

Hall’s work explores the boundaries between the natural and the man-made with subtlety and humour. Works like Leaf Litter show how the global plantscape has been shaped by human economic “needs”. I’m still bubbling with the thoughts it triggered the morning after.

Fiona Hall: Force Field is at Sydney’s MCA until 1 June 2008. Free entry. Give yourself at least an hour for just this exhibition, let alone what else the venue offers.

[Photograph: Details from "Tender" 2003-2005; Image from Roslyn Oxley9 Gallery via UTS Gallery.]

Too long since I posted a photo. I thought of taking a quick snap of the street but after 12 days of rain King Street looks bleak. Instead, here’s the glorious sunset scene from 26 March. Enjoy.

I enjoy writing (and talking about the things I write about) far more than I enjoy farting about with technology. For me the technology is a means to an end, not the end itself. But do I really want to be a writer full time?

Sometimes I do. Especially on days when things haven’t gone so well with clients. Then on other days I read stuff like Hugh MacLeod’s piece the quiet life of a writer yak yak yak. Explaining how he loved Hemingway and Graeme Greene, he says that even though their books were very different their daily routines were pretty much the same.

Basically, they’d live somewhere cheap, quiet and relatively conducive to getting a lot of writing done. The Florida Keys and Cuba in Hemingway’s case, the South of France in Greene’s.

They’d get up early each morning, then write diligently till noon.

Then they’d head for their local café, drink gallons of booze for hours on end, and stagger home late at night.

Then they’d do the same thing the next day. And the next. And the next. For years on end. Women came and went, friends came and went, children came and went, money and fame came and went, but the daily writing-booze combo remained the great constant.

I’m not sure I like the idea of staggering home drunk every night, but as somebody who likes to write, likes his beer, and likes the simple life, I can’t say I find their overall Modus Operandi unappealing.

On a sunny Friday morning in Sydney, in the city’s most beautiful time of year, I think I agree.

And now, back to reading a company’s office manual so we can build them a CRM system…

’Pong has just published a lovely photo series, 69 Blankets, documenting the diversity of picnic blankets at Mardi Gras Fair Day the other weekend. See them all as a slideshow with music.

You can see why I much preferred to meet my client at Bronte Beach in Sydney’s eastern suburbs this morning, rather than an office somewhere. I’m slightly annoyed to be back at my desk now.

’Pong’s photograph Pink Force (above) was a finalist in the Sydney Now, a photojournalism contest run by the Historic Houses Trust. Congrats, babe! [high-resolution version]

OK, I don’t see much theatre these days. But when I do, I usually stumble across something special. And so it was with The Fabulous Punch & Judy Show.

In many ways this is perfectly a standard Punch & Judy show, apart from using live actors instead of puppets. And apart from three actors playing Punch simultaneously, including Arky Michael. And apart from the gay angle, with Punch’s masculinity under threat from an attractive youth.

And apart from a most disturbing version of a Sherbet song.

Written by Brent Thorpe, who also plays Punch, and directed by Anthony Skuse, this play is a dark, wittily delicious one-act treat. ’Pong’s photos show off the simple but effective staging. I suspect it’ll be swamped by other, higher-profile Mardi Gras fare, but it deserves to pull audiences.

The Fabulous Punch & Judy Show is playing at the Cleveland Street Theatre, 199 Cleveland Street, Redfern, until 29 February.

[Disclosure: My old friend Garry Finch is stage manager and he gave us tickets, but I wrote this of my own accord.]

Spotted on Oxford Street, Sydney last night: an abandoned clothing boutique, recently repossessed by the landlord, with these rather forlorn-looking dummies holding an impromptu party.

As I type this, it’s just beginning to rain, and I can hear the sound of thunder in the background. But 20 minutes ago I took this photo of the gathering storm clouds over Enmore in Sydney.

Are you proud of your culture? It depends which culture you mean, I guess. Over the weekend I’ve pondered that while we all celebrated our Australian culture, and somewhere — not that I bothered participating — gay men celebrated “gay culture”. Again.

The photo (above) is from ’Pong’s photo essay on Australia Day. Classy eh?

The rest of the pics show precisely how we celebrate the Birth of Our Great Nation at the very place where the key events of 1788 took place. It’s pathetic. It’s embarrassing.

As I Twittered to ’Pong at the time, “So many people in your Oz Day photos use the flag as clothing. Fat-arsed drunks sitting on it! Nation’s flag: show respect.”

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