Wednesday, 29 August 2012

Crisis of faith

I wrote this in early July, the day our friends lost their perfect, beautiful daughter before she was born. I'm still not ready to confront the feelings and doubts it provoked. This was my outpouring on the day:


The last day and a half has been hard.
Emotionally hard and spiritually hard.
Yesterday a friend had to give birth to a baby she knew had already died. At 39 weeks gestation, this poor woman had to go through the pain and trauma of an induced labour with no promise of joy at the end, no heartbeat, only sadness and grief.
I am devastated. I am heartbroken. I am angry. I am full of doubt and my hope is faded.
My earliest memories are of bedtime. Every night my mum promised that she loved me, and Jesus loved me even more. I have been told my whole life long that God is love. I have believed my whole life long that God is love, and that God knows all things, is in all things and is all powerful.
I have known grief before. And heartbreak. And loss. I have seen and known death in its injustice and finality. I have seen the Lord give and the Lord take away. But yesterday was the first day on which I couldn’t stop thinking if God is love, He cannot be all powerful, and if He is all powerful he cannot be love. This is too cruel, too cold, too final and hopeless.
Why? What if? Why? Where is the miracle? Where is the mercy? Where is the kindness and comfort and love? I don’t see them, I can’t see them. 

Dan O'Day at photoaccess


Dan O’Day – I closed my eyes and saw this
Huw Davies Gallery
Photoaccess at Manuka Arts Centre
Corner Manuka Circle and NSW Crescent, Griffith

Until 2 September
I closed my eyes and saw this is a welcome return to the Huw Davies Gallery for Canberra-based artist Dan O’Day. O’Day has been a regular contributor to group shows at Photoaccess, but this is his first solo outing in Canberra since Still in 2006. The emerging talent which was on display in that, his first photographic show, has been refined in the intervening years to reveal the rare and wonderful product of a natural gift combining with a dedication to craft.
O’Day’s approach to image-making reflects his previous incarnation as a painter. His images are carefully constructed—from concept to story board, from staging to printing—and privilege surface, composition and, above all, the creative process. These are images born in the mind of the artist and realised through complex and painstaking enactment. Artist, model and landscape collaborate to create moments of solemn stillness and fleeting fantasy. The photographic medium, its immediacy and capacity for unmediated truth-telling, is subverted in a highly self-conscious manipulation of time and space.
Many of the images are taken at break of day, or the last moments of twilight. Limited light leads to creeping shadows and subtle silhouettes. The models are pictured alone in forest, field and hillside, often from behind, their stature dwarfed by the immensity of the natural setting. Tiny figures placed in overwhelming outdoor surroundings were a hallmark of high Romanticism, and O’Day adopts this visual trope to explore solitude and stillness in a time when such moments are rarely chanced upon.
It is noteworthy that the artist says he has become more comfortable with stillness since 2006. In his artist’s statement he notes, “that ‘stillness’ I used to run from, I now find myself running toward”. The visual realisation of this pursuit of silent moments of immobility has produced emotionally complex results. Rather than simple stillness, the models seem caught in pensive sadness, the darkness seems to encroach rather than recede. Compared to the images from Still, this collection of works is decidedly darker. There are no colourful balloons injecting their joyous whimsy into these lonely landscapes. Where O’Day’s earlier models seemed to dance and frolic through the frame, these models stand or sit, firmly grounded in space. Is Little Red Rosie running from the big bad wolf? Has the girl in One Day lost sight of her dreams in the scribbled frenzy which threatens to invade her reverie? This body of work reveals the oppressive power of stillness and darkness, the questions and the uncertainty to be glimpsed in moments snatched from the frenzy of life.
A selection of smaller prints is also on display at Photoaccess. These works, sourced from O’Day’s archives, provide a glimpse of a more spontaneous and unscripted aspect of his practice: tiny figures walk, dance and swim in playful settings, trees stretch against a boundless sky.
O’Day pays the bills as a wedding photographer, and his romantic sensibilities translate easily across commercial and artistic pursuits. This collection of images confirms his ability and his sensitivity, a combination of melancholy, menace and mystery which reveals moments of magic.

Wednesday, 18 April 2012

I just unfriended a dead person on Facebook

How callous does that sound? Is it less so when I say that I had never met her?
We became limited access ‘friends’ back in those early Facebook days when you found people on the other side of the world with the same name and thought “what a fun novelty to be friends with someone I’ve never met who shares this essential characteristic with me”.
This other Charlene was tragically killed in a road accident – she had stopped to help someone who was broken down on the side of the road and was hit by a passing car. How do I know this? Her husband has kept her Facebook account not only open but active. He posts photos and messages on anniversaries, birthdays, holidays. On seeing a series of posts about how much she was missed I Googled her, and found the online tributes, the news stories, and stumbled upon this family’s loss. Whenever “she” posts a new photo, or a missing you message I have mixed feelings: it is touching, but heartbreaking, and on some level very discomfiting.
This morning I have been cleaning out my Friends list – paring back to people I have known, or at least met, or at least interacted with on FB enough to have some sense of who they are. When I got to her name I paused. I have left her there for over a year since she died, feeling it was like another small cruelty to unfriend her, and in so doing vicariously unfriend her still grieving husband and children. But why? How does having a stranger on the other side of the world seeing the outworking of a family’s grief in any way help them? Or help me? 
It is such a curious thing this social media world. Since taking on the fun that is Twitter with both hands I have followed and interacted with people I wouldn’t know if I tripped over them on the street.  Many of  these tweeps live here in Canberra, many of them share my thoughts on politics, parenting and other issues I hold to be important. It is thrilling to see “such-and-such retweeted you”, “such-and-such followed you”, especially if whoever did so has more klout, or is on TV, or is simply someone whose on take on life is witty and/or resonant. It is equally sad to look at your follower count and see it has decreased. Facebook friends have a similar place in the heart. I think we’ve all had that moment, looking down the barrel of a friend request and considering whether or not to let this person into our virtual world. Their presence in reality is not something we can control, but their presence in our news feed certainly is. And the level to which we have to be faced with them – are they a friend or an acquaintance? Do we want to see their status, their likes, their photos? If we have a falling out, at what point to we cull them not only from our day-to-day actuality, but also from our digital interactions?
So I have unfriended this seemingly wonderful, beautiful, warm and kind human being. I did not know her, but I’m pretty sure we would have been friends, had there been but world enough and time.
And how I hope her husband doesn’t notice her friend tally has decreased by one.


Saturday, 25 February 2012

and after months of the news not actually being news. . .

A challenge for leadership of the Australian Labor Party is to be held tomorrow in Canberra. It has been remarkable watching the story go from months of media speculation, amped up to MPs making some pretty bold public comments, and finally to the absolute shenanigans that ensued when Kevin Rudd resigned as Foreign Minister, citing his unwillingness to participate in a 'soap opera'. It's pretty funny that he would decry the drama of it all, given his position at the foundation of all of these goings-on.

We'll see if there is a new PM by the end of the week, or even a snap election. I am hoping rather than the death of the Labor party, as all of this in-fighting has been characterised in the MSM, we will actually come out of it with a fresh slate - dirty laundry aired and washed, back-stabbing ammunition unloaded - and get back to, in the words of Anthony Albanese, fighting Tories.

Back on the horse

I have started writing about art again. It feels great to be back doing reviews for the Canberra Times, like pulling on an old comfy pair of trackies and relaxing into myself. They'll get my name right again soon I'm sure.

http://www.canberratimes.com.au/entertainment/art-and-design/depicting-a-divine-dreamland-20120217-1teix.html

http://www.canberratimes.com.au/entertainment/seaing-is-believing-20120207-1t8z8.html