relativity

NB I wrote this post a few weeks ago, but decided not to post it because it read like an essay and I thought my readers may find it boring! In light of Sarah Wilson's latest column on random acts of kindness, it became topical so I decided to post it after all. Here is part of my comment on Sarah's blog so you can gain a little insight into why I found this exhibition so compelling:

Sarah, I kind of disagree when you say that kindness doesn’t come naturally… I believe that it is the unnatural things in our lives – money, time, social structures – that encourage us to quell our natural kindness, but that everybody has a desire to be kind, which is a driving force. Most people have to LIMIT that kindness to a certain circle, maybe just family and close friends, as a way of protecting themselves (survival, as you say). Tim Minchin (my favourite comedian in the world, not to be confused with Nick Minchin, the sickeningly smug politician) has a song called “If you open up your mind too much, your brain will fall out”. Well, I think most people think that if they extend their compassion too far, their hearts will fall out.

A few weeks ago, I visited the Art Gallery of Western Australia to see Australian sculptress Patricia Piccinini's exhibition entitled "Relativity". As you can probably tell from the photos, her pieces are a little creepy. They make you feel uncomfortable and want to look away... but then, you can't help but take another glance, and step a little closer.

The exhibition is intended to force us to question "what makes us human?" When we look at these grotesque creatures, we have an innate desire to separate ourselves from them... but we can't. Patricia imbues them with a humanness that forces us to feel empathy, which shocks and surprises us. The creatures' vulnerability - whether due to childlikeness or frailty - gives us a sense of protectiveness over them. And once you look at them for long enough, they have a oddly sweet quality.

Patricia has identified her ethos as "I feel, therefore I think". Her pieces help us to tap into our innate kindness and humility, as well as extending our awareness of the way we project our own fears and insecurities onto others. When we first see these creatures, we feel anxiety and disgust. Why? These are just sculptures! They can't touch us. So why do we feel so uncomfortable in their presence?

Society teaches us that to be human is the penultimate state. Humans are the smartest, most valuable creatures on earth. Everything else – animals, trees, plants, water – is at our disposal; they are subject to our needs and desires. We can manipulate them for our own benefit because we have a certain "specialness" about us that makes us more important than anything else. These kinds of assumptions are gradually changing but I've noticed that a lot of people tend to live in a condition of willful ignorance... which, of course, makes it easy to be callous.

Patricia often pairs her creatures with children. Their innocence reminds us of a time when we were quick to offer trust and unconditional love, and slow to make judgments. We can learn so much from reminiscing about our childhoods. The children also represent the future, and the fact that things can change for the better if we only remain in touch with our hearts. This extends to our relationship with the "other" in general... other animals, all living things, as well as other people of different races and ethnicities, backgrounds and life experiences, those who are younger or older than ourselves.

So what to take away from this? We should not allow our fears to overtake us. We have to let go of the notion that we, as humans, are more valuable than any other living creature. We need to allow ourselves to empathise with other people or creatures who are different to us, instead of shielding ourselves from that compassion as a subconscious means of protecting ourselves. We can turn a blind eye to the experience and suffering of others, if we deliberately keep our distance, but when we look into their eyes, we cannot help but connect with them and feel for them. Humanity does not just consist of intelligence and survival instinct. Our greatest gift is the ability to intuitively empathise and feel attachment towards other living things - because that it what gives us the desire to improve things, and the responsibility of acting upon that yen.

“If you’re listening, if you’re awake to the poignant beauty of the world, your heart breaks regularly. In fact, your heart is made to break; its purpose is to burst open again and again so that it can hold even more wonders.”
— Andrew Harvey

l'art

So I have been in Paris for four days and it is still irresistable.

On my second day I visited the Louvre, which is magnificent. I am not an artist and haven't been educated (or educated myself) in art history or appreciation, however I was awed and fascinated by the amazing artworks. Panini's Galerie de Vues de la Rome Moderne and Galerie de Vues de la Rome Antique, Caron's The Massacres of the Triumvirate and Reni's The Abduction of Hélène were some of my favourites. The palace itself is so lavish and grand, like nothing you would ever see in Australia! I loved the way the artworks gave insight into the way people lived their lives throughout history (although, of course, it was restricted predominantly to the elite, ruling classes and how they wanted the world to be portrayed). I also loved the way that some of the artists, commissioned by rich aristocrats, secretly added their own subtle messages to the paintings and sculptures.

The Massacres of the Triumvirate by Antoine Caron

The Abduction of Hélène by Guido Reni

Galerie de Vues de la Rome Moderne by Giovanni Paolo Panini

Yesterday I climbed the Eiffel Tower and visited Musee D'Orsay, which I loved even more than the Louvre. I found it easier to connect with the modern art (particularly since I knew of a lot more of the artists!), and I adored the museum itself, which has been converted from a gorgeous old train station. The Impressionist paintings were amazing especially, of course, Van Gogh and Monet. My favourite was Monet's Femmes au Jardin, which is just so pretty and elaborate. Of course, like all the paintings, you have to see them in person to truly appreciate their mastery!

Femmes au Jardin by Claude Monet

With all this talk of female body image lately, I have to say that visiting these art galleries has been eye-opening. It is only in recent times that the portrayal of women in the media has been restricted to those who are thin, with symmetrical features and strong bone structure. Countless artworks I have come across on this trip - the majority of which, of course, were created by men - have depicted women, who are not at all "beautiful" (at least by today's standards), in such a celebratory, yet frank and sincere, way. The curves and softness of a woman's body is emphasised, and they did not shy away from depicting exposed breasts, legs or stomachs. Breastfeeding was also painted beautifully and lovingly. Hair is natural (frizzy, mousey-coloured hair was common), skin is pale and faces are often not what we would consider "pretty". I suppose the message is twofold: premièrement, beauty is subjective and our perception of what is beautiful has shifted dramatically across time and cultures; ensuite, perfection has not always been - and should not be - revered and aspired to despite what contemporary media would have us believe. These tender, honest depictions of women looking beautiful because they are real is so enlightening and reassuring to me.

"It's on the strength of observation and reflection that one finds a way. So we must dig and delve unceasingly."

— Claude Monet

P.S. Two of my favourite bloggers, Tom and Lorenzo, have just posted Elle Canada magazine's stunning editorial featuring the beautiful Crystal Renn: http://is.gd/5ONzd. Please take a look :)