Sydney Part Two: Some culture please
Monday, 12 January
On our return to Sydney from Shoal Bay, I was looking forward to spending a few more days in the Emerald City again before I flew back to Melbourne on the 13th; this was so I could try to ‘see the sights’ a little more. On the Sunday, I determinedly strode out of my Airbnb in Camperdown, West Sydney, and walked towards the underground garage where my trusty Kia Picanto was resting.
As I was walking, the heat of the day suddenly hit me in the face. It was the kind of heat where the air feels thick and it stings your nostrils. And it was only 10 am. Looking at my phone my weather app displayed 37 degrees with an alert of ‘fire weather’, which sounds altogether like a bad kind of weather. Naturally, this forced me to rethink my plan of having a leisurely stroll through the city where I’d check out the Opera House and the Royal Botanic Gardens.
Funnily enough, on rainy days we all pile into cinemas and galleries, and in this kind of heat it goes full circle. It’s completely unbearable to be outside so we take refuge in these places, largely for the reliable air con. I decided to visit the Art Gallery of New South Wales and there was an exhibition on called ‘Dangerously Modern’. It told the stories of female artists in early 20th-century Australia such as Margaret Preston and Florence Fuller (whom I hold my hand up, I had never heard of).
Interestingly, settler-Australian women were the first in the world to gain full suffrage in 1902 (26 years before the UK). Yet, these women felt creatively repressed by society in cities like Sydney and Melbourne. They were expected to have a chaperone at private events and since they weren’t allowed to attend art school they had to pay for private lessons which were incredibly expensive.
As a result, many of these women boarded steamboats to more liberal European cities like London and Paris. The trips took six weeks in total. When they arrived they joined art studios, were inspired by European artists like Manet and Cezanne, and embedded themselves in society so much they started to form their own art colonies in smaller less-expensive towns; most notably Étaples, Northern France.
It was a great exhibition and my poorly taken snaps don’t do it justice. The paintings were modernist (apparently) but they also felt impressionistic in the way they captured light. The subjects were often women placed in domestic settings, either reading or dressing. This was the artists’ refuting societal expectations that women should be focusing on the housework. Whilst obviously global societies and communities continue to suffer systemic sexism, it’s bizarre to think that this is what progressive artistic communities were exploring when my grandparents were growing up. The very idea of a woman putting her feet up and reading and learning, rather than doing housework - how incredibly subversive!
I elected to do a guided tour. As you can see it was a worthwhile choice. The tour leader was very impassioned and proud of these Australian artists but, out of politeness, I would find myself at the back of the crowd. I quickly realised that this was totally the wrong way to enjoy art - someone explaining what they think of a painting whilst you have to get on your tiptoes to see it.
As we turned a corner, one woman in the group clamoured ‘Oh - I like this little girl!’ (see pic) in a thick Aussie accent. Firstly, I thought, how brave of you to brazenly share such an uninteresting remark with the group. Secondly, I thought the painting was kinda creepy, but maybe I was projecting my fear of a baby coming towards me with open arms. I almost wanted to take a step back. It reminded me of how personal and subjective art can be. The longer I stared at the little girl, it also reminded me of a particular scene from a film I’ve watched way too many times.
For those of you familiar with the film Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, I couldn’t help but recall the scene at the Chicago Art Institute where Cameron, played by a young Alan Ruck, gets intensely lost in a child’s face (or lack of) in a painting of a crowd by a river. Serving as a mirror to his inner child it completely unnerves him. The shot is also perfectly accompanied by a haunting instrumental of ‘Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want’ by The Smiths. It’s one of my favourite ever movie scenes. It’s pretty hard to capture how art can move you but John Hughes does a pretty good job! You can watch it here - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vBBOMLURSGA)
