Triennale, Calexico and Blondie

Thursday Out In Naarm

Feb 18, 2024

Bright blue skies and sunshine beckoned me to get out into the city where I live. You know, light up a couple of hits of afternoon sativa and tram my way to the gallery.

The National Gallery of Victoria is a lovely maze and I enjoy getting lost in the passages with no goal within my footsteps. There were a couple of pieces I wanted to see and I knew I would come across them.

Do you ever go to art galleries during the week and/or on your own? My early years in New York enabled me to wander galleries all the time. It was something we did as children, as teens, and as adults because of the wealth of art that inhabited and that visited that big piece of fruit.

Looking at the artwork and the people are all part of the gallery experience. Galleries always seem to draw a quirky, attractive, mixed demographic of cultures, ages, pronouns, etc. Tourists some may be, art lovers and gawkers we all were.

From the beautiful weaving of Indigenous Art ( Mun-Dirra -Maningrida Fish Fence) to Yoko Ono, I was delightfully surprised by the variety of art enshrined at the NGV for the Triennale. Bravo.

This piece from SMACK, a trio of digital artists, encompassed 3 walls and they were: The Garden of Eden, Paradise, and Hell. You can guess which wall this is.

Mun-Dirra is the largest woven sculpture ever created in Australia. The beauty and ambition of this major installation, having taken almost two years to produce, reflects the creativity and collaboration that underpins Burarra art and culture. It is simultaneously a contemporary artwork and a form of cultural continuity representing a relationship to land and water that defines Burarra life.

For Burarra women, weaving is not just a means of creating functional objects, it is also a way for individuals to express their identity and cultural heritage.

“My Mommy Is Beautiful” gave me and all who attended a chance to dwell on their mothers and add to the wall of notes. Thoughts were deep, though my addition was simple after meditating on my beautiful Mom, Virginia.

Afterward a beer or two and a sirloin sandwich, I stopped to rest for a bit at Federation Square before I strolled over to the Recital Hall for a performance by Calexico and Grace Cummings. My second-row seat was superb and I just eased my butt and beer into it as Grace and Louie kicked off their short set.

I had heard some music of Grace’s in the past but had not given it much attention. I was mesmerised by this selection of songs, but mostly by the delivery. Grace said she had a band and would give it a try performing these songs as a duo. Louie added, “The name of the band is Grace Cummings”.

I was getting feelings of Neil Young and California and a sense that these were moody pieces at times but would benefit from rock and roll. Grace has some pipes on her and the guitars and piano were enough to make this a moment for my ears.

Grace has a new album, her third, Ramona, being released in April. Here is where the sound of California comes in. I just read the album was produced by Jonathan Wilson at his studio in Topanga Canyon and he has that Laurel Canyon sound oozing out of his pores. I guess you would call him the Man Of The Canyons if you wanted to sound like a rock critic.

Calexico. If you get the chance, don’t miss them. This was my 4th time in their presence and the environs of the Recital Hall were perfect for their southwestern cinematic sound. Accordions, 2 trumpets vibraphone drums, and a fest of guitars made for a raucous night of beauty.

The crowd was a bit sedate but appreciative. Joey Burns was sending out love to the gathering but you could tell he was hoping that people would get up and move a bit. For the last hour or so I took to the aisles because I could no longer be contained within my seats.

Seats? Well, I had an empty seat next to me as my gal was unable to attend. 4 years to the date I had an empty seat next to me at The Enmore in Sydney to see Nick Lowe. My good friend, Tizza, had passed and I had to go to the gig with all that pain in memorial to his soul and life. He was heavily on my mind tonight, in a joyful way, as I knew he would have loved the evening of music.

Afterward, I headed into the coolness of Naarm and there was a bar with outdoor seating next door to The Recital Hall.

I gathered up an Asahi and sat watching the people flow by. My phone was silent and in my bag and I just thought about mortality for a bit because of my previous mention of Tiz.

Guess it comes to my mind a bit these days because of this damn medical procedure that is looming. Of course, everyone says, “You will be fine, you are young and healthy”.

In the quiet moments, you think about it. Losing my dear friend Tony to complications after open heart surgery just a couple of years ago adds a bit of paranoia to the fire.

But yeah, I will be alright. I do feel that deeply.

Tony Manetta, Toner, my mate of 50 years had a cocker spaniel in his family home when we were kids. Tony and I met when we were about 14 years old. His dog was older and sedate when I met him and we were a bit wild and noisy.

We would come into his house after a day out doing whatever we did, probably smoking weed, and having fun with the dog. I don’t know how it started, maybe it was something out of all the Monty Python we watched, but we would do this long drawn out call of its name: “Bloooooooooonnnnnnndddddiiiiiiiieeeeeee!”

We would add stupid voices.

We thought it was funny.

Blondie was not quite sure but she put up with us.

So I am thinking about Tizza and Tony and mortality and I look up and see the name of the bar I am drinking at.