Real Monsters for Halloween

I could spend hours scouring the internet for imagery… and no, unlike many of you who use the internet for a similar pursuit, I’m not talking about collecting untold gigabytes of pornography!

I like looking for art and artworks of obscure artists.  I think it’s amazing that I am able to see the works of an art student in Russia or an little known sculptor in Spain or an accomplished illustrator like Toby Allen who created these ‘Real Monsters’, as artistic representations of mental disorders.

mental disorder monsters anxiety mental disorder monsters avoidance mental disorder monsters borderline personality mental disorder monsters depression mental disorder monsters disassociative mental disorder monsters OCD mental disorder monsters paranoia mental disorder monsters schizophrenia mental disorder monsters social anxiety

Today is Halloween, which in Australia generally means very little, no matter how hard retailers are trying to get us to buy into this particularly un-Hallmark, but decidedly consumerist, holiday.  Popular culture seems to spend a lot of time cogitating on zombies and vampires and things generally undead, that generally go bump in the night.  Monsters of this kind do not bother me at all.  Never have and never will.  But these ‘Real Monsters’ of Toby Allen’s… well, them I got some experience with, and they scare the shit out of me.

Who were you in Elizabethan England?

Haven’t seen a lot of these quiz-memes things over recent years… maybe I’ve just been avoiding them.  But this one piqued my interest.  Answer a few banal questions and find out which person from the court of Elizabeth I of England answered the same way you did.  Nah, I can’t back that up.  It’s actually just a bit of fluff and nonsense, but I’m bored so, why not.   And… drumroll please!

elizabethan noblewoman elizabeth vernon

Oh damn.  I was so hoping I’d be some obscure scholar who lived and died in abject poverty far away from the head of the body politic, and leaving very little trace on the world… perhaps I shouldn’t have answered those questions about what I would do, should I find myself in possession of important state secrets, so honestly.

Elizabeth Vernon, Countess of Southampton – not to shabby.  Apparently she was a chief lady in waiting to Elizabeth I and known for being ‘demure’ of character… all evidence to the contrary from her rather fashionable and bejewelled, flamboyant portrait:

elizabeth i noblewoman countess southampton elizabeth vernonElizabeth Vernon, Countess of Southampon, unknonwn artist c.1595

And here is the LINK to the quiz thingy if anyone else finds themselves bored and half drugged on a Sunday morning and without enough cognitive function to indulge in anything more taxing…

“Dumped” Peter Wilsson

I saw, and completely fell in love with, this beautiful glass sculpture at the National Gallery of Art in Melbourne last Friday.  I would have loved to take it home, even though it doesn’t even remotely match the decor of my entire house!  I was mesmerised by the ingenuity and creative vision evident in the final piece.  The title ‘Dumped’ is also really quite evocative of waves and the glass is filled with tiny bubbles, showing the swimmer being tossed around in the surf.

As a kid… this happened a lot to me!  Face planting in the sand in the surf on a semi regular basis is part of growing up in Australia I think!  🙂   The artist is Norweigan born, but current resident of Canberra, Peter Wilsson… and if I had a spare $2790, I would have bought it!

It’s at the Kirra Galleries in the NGV if anyone else has a spare $3k and can’t think of something for me for my next birthday!   😛

dumped peter wisons

 

dumped peter wilson

 

dumped peter wilsom

Art twonkers gone mad!

Didn’t think much of Munch’s ‘Scream’ selling for $120 million last week…?  How about this masterpiece of contemporary abstract art:

$87 million at auction contemporary art“Orange, Red, Yellow”, Mark Rothko, 1961.

This haphazardly blotchy reddish coloured bit of canvas went to auction last night and fetched a record breaking $87 million (for a contemporary art work).  Which seems a bargain compared to the Munch!  ONLY $87 million, I hear you ask?  FFS.

What on earth is wrong with this picture?  (Pun intended.)

Okay, so yeah, yeah, Rothko was an important driving force in the New York abstractionist movement in the 60s and was instrumental in blah blah di blah… who cares?  But more importantly, who cares enough about his reputation and influence on the art world to spend $87 million his blotchy red canvas?  The mind boggles.

Munch’s ‘The Scream’ sells for record $120M… um, why?

I’m fond of saying, particularly at art galleries and when people are discussing art, “I don’t know much about art, but… oh hey, wait.  I DO know stuff about art!” and then babbling on with lots of art twonk jargony buzzwords that I picked up doing my Bach of Visual Arts many moons ago.  Having this illustrious but usually completely useless piece of paper hanging on my wall has given me an appreciation of art, caused me to attempt to critically analyze art on occasion and even allowed a vague understanding the significance of art within the human experience.  But there are so many things about art that I swear I will never understand.

record sale $120m sothebys washington post

Someone being prepared to buy a ‘masterpiece’ for a record $120M is one of them.  And a particularly ugly piece of art it is too, imho.  So, was the purchase for the love of the piece or purely a business investment?  If you believe the Washington Post, it was likely an investment as the sale headlined their “Business” section demonstrating to all and sundry that it is the monetary value of the piece that is important, and not the aesthetic or historical value of the piece that the world holds dear.  I wonder if the purchaser is even an art lover?  Will they permanently loan it to a gallery or is it destined to be locked in a safe somewhere?  Do they have any appreciation whatsoever of the significance of this piece at all or have they bought it on someone else’s advice?  The one thing that becomes startlingly evident though, is that they have TOO MUCH BLOODY MONEY.  Whenever I read about artworks selling for enormous amounts of money, it scares the hell out of me.  Yes, art is important.  Yes, it should be valued by society.  Yes, it reflects humanity in a way that no other form of expression can.  But seriously?  Hundreds of millions of dollars?  Surely that sort of money could find better purchase elsewhere in the world…

‘Nothing Ever Happens’ – Del Amitri

Post office clerks put up signs saying position closed
And secretaries turn off typewriters and put on their coats
Janitors padlock the gates
For security guards to patrol
And bachelors phone up their friends for a drink
While the married ones turn on a chat show

And they’ll all be lonely tonight and lonely tomorrow

Gentlemen time please, you know we can’t serve anymore
Now the traffic lights change to stop, when there’s nothing to go
And by five o’clock everything’s dead
And every third car is a cab
And ignorant people sleep in their beds
Like the doped white mice in the college lab

Nothing ever happens, nothing happens at all
The needle returns to the start of the song
And we all sing along like before

And we’ll all be lonely tonight and lonely tomorrow

Telephone exchanges click while there’s nobody there
The Martians could land in the carpark and no one would care
Close-circuit cameras in department stores shoot the same video every day
And the stars of these films neither die nor get killed
Just survive constant action replay

Nothing ever happens, nothing happens at all
The needle returns to the start of the song
And we all sing along like before

And we’ll all be lonely tonight and lonely tomorrow

Bill hoardings advertise products that nobody needs
While angry from Manchester writes to complain about
All the repeats on T.V.
And computer terminals report some gains
On the values of copper and tin
While American businessmen snap up Van Goghs 
For the price of a hospital wing 

Nothing ever happens, nothing happens at all
The needle returns to the start of the song
And we all sing along like before
Nothing ever happens, nothing happens at all
They’ll burn down the synagogues at six o’clock
And we’ll all go along like before

And we’ll all be lonely tonight and lonely tomorrow