Thu 6 Sep 2007

Red Poles

Posted by anaglyph under Bad Sydney Art
[16] Comments

Well Acowlytes, this is likely to be our last stop on the Bad Public Art Tour of Sydney, not because I’ve even come close to running out of Bad Art, but because, as I mentioned last post, I’m about to wave goodbye to The Harbour City and take up residence in The Paris of the South where the public art is of a different calibre altogether.

Today we head out west of Sydney toward the Blue Mountains. Have your cameras at the ready, because we’re on the freeway and will be (thankfully) passing this lame effort at speed.

Some Red Poles

I used to drive past these red poles on my weekly trips to the Treehouse. For months I’d sail on by thinking ‘When are they going to finish those damn things?’.

The poles, painted in garish Road Safety Orange with wires sticking out the top, were obviously some kind of lighting fixtures awaiting a tardy electrician to turn up and complete the job. One day as I sped past the thought entered my head that… ‘Oooooo… they are finished. It’s some kind of artwork!’

And then, chuckling to myself at my silliness… ‘N-o-o-o-o… that couldn’t be right…’

But it was. This is the Light Horse Interchange Sculpture Parade and those poles that look so much like a bunch of safety barricades on a bad hair day are in fact supposed to be symbolic of the horses and men of the Australian Light Horse regiments that served in France and The Middle East in the First World War.

This is how the effort is described on the Westlink M7 website:

Red, the colour of the Flanders poppy and poppies that bloomed throughout Palestine, is symbolic of the blood of supreme sacrifice and is the colour chosen for the sculptural group. The abstract plumage attached to each marker represents the emu plumes attached to the Light Horsemen’s slouch hats. The white band is a reference to the departing soldiers’ innocence of war.

Got that? Let me just rephrase it to clarify:

Crap. Crap. Crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap. Crap.

First of all, the colour of the poles is not like any kind of blood I’ve ever seen, though at a stretch I guess you could say there are poppies that colour. Orange poppies. Secondly, the sculptor, whose identity I cannot find anywhere on the web (for obvious reasons, one has to speculate…) has evidently never seen an emu feather because they don’t look anything like bits of electrical wire. And aside from anything at else, the whole effect is just so completely pathetic. There’s no feeling of skill, or deliberation, or elegance, or challenge, or illumination, nor indeed any measure of art at all.

Some More Red Poles

I have a terrible sinking feeling, in fact, that there was no actual decent artist within cooee of this project, but that the bunch that designed the freeway – engineers from the Urban Planning Department of the Roads and Traffic Authority and urban design company Conybeare Morrison – appended a quick sketch for the ‘sculpture’ to the bottom of one of their blueprints for the engineering of the overpass construction.

It would help explain the appalling ‘artistic’ statement that I quoted above. It certainly wasn’t penned by anyone with artistic thoughtfulness because it’s so awful.

In a review in Architecture Australia, General Manager of the New South Wales Government Architects Office, Peter Mould, says of the work:

This is a strong theme for public art, but its execution is disappointing. It is artwork seen in passing, at speed, and calls for a robust scale so that the rhythm of the parade is legible. The feathers, too, are unconvincing.

And that, for me, says it all. It doesn’t even meet the standards of a Government architect.

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Thanks Alicia for Pic#1 and Violet Towne for Pic#2

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Tue 4 Sep 2007

Cracked, Plastered or Just Incompetent?

Posted by anaglyph under DIY, Grumpy Old Man, Idiots
[15] Comments

A Crack

Speaking of things cracked, my poor little house is looking a little the worse for wear, and since I’m upping stakes and changing cities in a month or so, and renting it out, I figure it’s time for a bit of a spruce up.

So. For three days now I’ve been sitting at home waiting for plasterers to turn up to give me a quote on repairing cracks in the walls. Now, this is not just some little itty bitty job – pretty much every surface in my two bedroom terrace is cracked to a greater or lesser degree, so I’m thinking this is going to be a lucrative little earner for the lucky tradesperson who scoops the gig.

I want to get three quotes, so I picked three reasonable-sounding ads from my local newspaper and arranged for meetings.

Friday 3pm and I’m waiting for Damian.* Damian has someone to take his calls, and his ad was the most impressive (30 years’ experience!), so I’m assuming he’s on the ball. It’s pretty plain after an hour that Damian is a no-show. I call his number. No answer. His cell phone is off. 7.30pm I get a call from his office…

Oh… Damian got a bit busy today, sorry, can we arrange for another time?

Now I don’t know about you, but I’m thinking that not showing up on your first appointment with a potential client, and then not letting them know what’s happening until 4 hours later, is not such a great way to start a business relationship. Nevertheless, I am stupidly prepared to cut Damian some slack, and arrange for him to come on Tuesday at 4pm. I want to make sure his visit doesn’t clash with Arnie, who is coming on Tuesday at midday.

I also talk to Alexei on Friday, and arrange for him to come on Monday afternoon, 4pm. On Sunday, Alexei calls…

Oh, mate, sorry, I can’t come tomorrow. I’ve got a week down at the snow. This is my last chance mate, so, you know…? Can we do it when I get back?

Wha? The snow? Is that information I need to know (or care about)? Does he think, perhaps, that telling me how this will be his last chance to loaf off with ski bunnies and guzzle Jägermeister will make me sympathetic to the fact that he’s screwing me around? I tell Alexei that I need the quotes by the end of next week, so no, we can’t do it when he gets back.

Oh, mate, sorry. Hey, I can recommend another guy if you want. He’s really good. Done lots of big houses in Strathfield and that. Can I get him to come instead? I’ll call him and give him all the details. His name is Rob.

I stupidly agree, after first making sure that Alexei will get Rob to call me if he can’t make it.

So, Monday 4pm rolls ’round and there’s no sign of Rob. I wait for an hour. Now I stupidly don’t have Rob’s number so I can’t call him. 5pm. 6pm. 7pm. Thank Spaghetti Monster for internet diversions. Rob calls.

Oh, hi mate, my name’s Rob – Alexei gave me your number about a plastering job? When can I come over?

I tell Rob I’ve been waiting for him since 4. At least he seems genuinely apologetic.

Alexei just told me to call – he didn’t leave any details.

Now, having spoken to Alexei, I am quite prepared to accept Rob’s story, so I arrange with Rob for meeting on Wednesday at 10am.

Today is Tuesday and Arnie (who I imagine in my Trade Pantheon as ‘The Plastinator’) is due at midday. The sun goes past High Noon and Arnie is a no-show. I am no longer starting to feel any amount of surprise. I give him an hour and a half and call him.

Oh, mate. Right. When did you want me to call around?

Jesus. These people are astonishing. If I ran my business like this I would have gone bankrupt 20 years ago. I tell Arnie not to bother and he gets pissed off.

I can only assume that business is so good in the plastering trade that these people just don’t give a toss whether or not they get a job.

4.30pm on Tuesday. No sign of Damian. I call him. His cell phone is off. I attempt to tear out my hair and remember I haven’t got any left. After an hour there is a call from Damian’s office:

Damian is on his way! He should be there soon!

Her exuberance is infectious, but I think I’m getting excited merely due to the possibility that I might actually see someone…

Damian arrives a full two hours late. He is a little rotund man with one tooth. He also speaks little to no English. No wonder he never answers his phone.

Here is a snippet of our lengthy attempt to communicate:

So. I need you to give me a quote in writing.

Yes! (shakes his head as if to say ‘no’).

Can you do that this week?

Yes.

Can you send it to me by the end of the week?

(He brandishes his business card) Have you got lines?

Lines?

Lines! Lines!

(He waves his card again. I look confused. He points at my computer. A lightbulb pops on over my head).

Oh! You mean email!

No! No!

(He shakes his head violently and waves his card again. I have NO idea what he means).

Now I have no in-principle problem in dealing with a plasterer who doesn’t speak English (it’s not like you need any language at all to plaster a wall), but I begin to fear that he might be mad as well. How would I know?

And more significantly, since I may well have to deal with him from a different part of the country on the phone, it’s unlikely he’s going to get the gig.

An hour after Damian leaves, Rob texts me:

Hi. Unfortunately i wont be able to make plastering quote for 10am. Tomorrow. Maybe thurs or early next week. Cheers. Rob.

Maybe I’ll just forget about the walls and get plastered myself instead. If there’s one person I know I can rely on, it’s my bartender.

UPDATE: Damian was going to drop his quote ’round last night. Hands up who thinks that actually happened?

Also, a new player, David, who I had arranged to see today (Thursday) rang (at least ahead of the appointment) to postpone till next week.

To sum up: out of 5 plasterers, all have failed to keep appointments (one twice), and the one that managed to get here eventually has failed to deliver a quote.

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*Their real names. Don’t work with them.

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Mon 3 Sep 2007

On Reflection VI

Posted by anaglyph under 7 Famous Mirrors
[8] Comments

7 Famous Mirrors (cont)

•7: The Mirror Crack’d

The Mirror Crack'd From Side to Side

She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces through the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She looked down to Camelot.

Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror cracked from side to side;
“The curse is come upon me,” cried
The Lady of Shalott.

The curse of Alfred Lord Tennyson’s faerie Lady is such that she must only view the world through the mirror in her tower. If she should dare to look upon the world directly she knows a terrible fate will befall her, though she doesn’t know what that fate might be.

The passing of Sir Lancelot ‘flashing in her crystal mirror’ on his progress down to Camelot is her undoing. She wrenches her view from the reflection to gaze directly down on the handsome knight, whereupon her lifetime’s occupation, the magical web she weaves, floats out into the world, and her mirror cracks dramatically in two.

Things go from bad to worse after she finds an abandoned boat on the river, grabs a spare moment to paint her name on the prow, and launches herself off under the willows toward Camelot. Her robes of snowy white, as fetching as they may have looked in her lonely tower, are not much protection against the chilly night, and as she drifts along toward the castle singing a mournful tune, she freezes to death.

The moral to this story is:

Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear.

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Well Acowlytes, that concludes the diversion that is 7 Famous Mirrors. I thank you for your indulgence.

 

Mon 3 Sep 2007

Lord of the Rings?

Posted by anaglyph under Grumpy Old Man, Hmmm..., Stupidity, Words
[9] Comments

I had cause today to phone an insurance company and when I got through heard the following message:

Your call is important to us and has been placed in a priority queue.

Priority queue? Priority queue? Wha? Wha?

So now, apparently, there’s (at least) two kinds of queues that you can get on people’s switchboards? Since I just dialed in using a number from the phone book it got me to wondering just how insignificant you’d have to be to get the normal ‘non-priority’ queue.

I waited and waited on the priority queue. But at least I eventually got through. Some schmuck is still hanging on…

 

Wed 29 Aug 2007

On Reflection V

Posted by anaglyph under 7 Famous Mirrors
[13] Comments

7 Famous Mirrors (cont)

•6: The Eye of God

The Marriage of the Arnolfinis

Just when you hoped thought I might have forgotten about my 7 Famous Mirrors I am pleased to present for your edification #6 – Jan Van Eyck’s portrait ‘The Marriage of the Arnolfinis’.

The image of Giovanni Arnolfini and Giovanna Cenami on their wedding is among the most recognizable of Renaissance paintings. The famous convex mirror, behind and between the Arnolfinis, holds a pivotal place in the picture’s composition.

The Marriage of the Arnolfinis Mirror Detail

Things to note about the mirror:

•It is unlikely that a mirror of the size depicted could have been made at the time of the Arnolfinis. Van Eyck has probably exaggerated its size to emphasize its symbolic importance.

•Experts speculate that the mirror is representative of the Eye of God watching over the wedding, an hypothesis which is further emphasized by the small medallions depicting the Passion of Christ inlaid around the frame.

• The mirror reflects two people standing in front of the Arnolfinis (that is, where we, the audience, would be standing if we were actually there). One of them, a figure in a blue smock, is thought to be the painter. The identity of the other is not known.

Thing is, whenever I’ve looked at this picture I’ve never been able to shake the kinda creepy feeling that the other figure standing there beside Van Eyck is… me…

 

Tue 28 Aug 2007

Red Moon Rising

Posted by anaglyph under In The News, Religion, Science, Signs, Skeptical Thinking
[18] Comments

An Omen

… and since we’re astrologizing, did you all catch the total lunar eclipse and corresponding ‘Blood Moon’ last night? The park near my house was filled with folks looking skyward, which for me was almost as big a thrill as the event itself.

It still amazes me, though, how confused and ill-informed people continue to be about events like this. As I walked up the street to the park, glancing up at the beginning of the eclipse, an old bloke said to me knowingly “Better get a good look – you’ll never see that again in your lifetime…”*

Lunar eclipses occur frequently, sometimes two or three times in a year, total eclipses a little less frequently. ‘Blood’ or ‘Hunter’s’ moons appear whenever there is a total lunar eclipse.† I’ve already seen a few, and I hope to see a few more, all things going well.

Acts 2:20 ~ The sun will be turned to darkness and the moon to blood before the coming of the great and glorious day of the Lord.

Of course the religious loonies leap upon this sort of thing with gusto. As an omen, the red moon is surely the lamest of portents to choose – by my calculation, the Earth has seen at least two thousand of these since the apostle Peter penned the above prediction. Even if you assume that St Peter was referring to a combination of solar & lunar eclipses, it’s not such a rare thing for those things to occur in tandem.

If you want to know when your next Blood Moon occurs, you can do no better than fire up the Javascript Lunar Eclipse Explorer at NASA. Plug in your capital city and your century and you’re set to plan your next End Times Picnic!

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*Of course, it is possible that he was clairvoyant, and the real meaning of his pronouncement was that I’ll be turning up my toes before the next lunar eclipse occurs…

†Unless there are extenuating circumstances – a lunar eclipse on December 30, 1982 was almost completely dark. Dust from the recently erupting Mexican volcano El Chichon clouded the atmosphere to such an extent that it occluded the sun’s rays, preventing them from casting their filtered red light on the moon.

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