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A warm blanket of cold greyness befitted the civility and class of 'bourne Friday night past. The occasional light drizzle is just extra garnish that gives the scene a sense of completeness. Weather like this entices, it encourages one to don a scarf and warm duds, seek sustenance that warms not only the belly, but raises our minds and souls to levels of ecstatic savagery that push the conservative and conventional aside.
One doesn't know where to begin when faced with such multi-layered possibilities. Debate may rage, but I say depositing oneself upon the street in good walking shoes and allowing the chill wind to blow you to a solution is best. Rowdiness and surging crowds are all well and good, but overlooking the small and calm is tom-foolery at its tom-foolerest. God was kind when she gave us sight, sound, and smell and it would be a sin to not use such senses superbly here, as they rarely lead astray.
How to comprehend all this? The originality of the local folk, dripping with a cool confidence and sophistication that should be freeze dried, vacuum packed and trucked to SinCity so I may purchase it from my local dealer. Their utter failure to exercise snobbery and conformity. The revelation that sometimes the best food can be sourced from the establishment with the grottiest seats. That a good drinking establishment must have a good story to go with it.
I cracked it my friends, I understood it. It's not complicated at all. Them down south there understand that to achieve a good result, one must know what one wants. Those wonderful 'Bournians have found their identity, and they celebrate it well.
I visited Cockatoo Island on the weekend to view the artworks of the Biennale. I plan to write about it soon, but before I do I think it is important to provide some information about this place*.
Before European colonisation, the island was known as Wa-rea-mah a title given to it by the Aboriginal people. Like much of the SinCity harbour area they lived a fairly peaceful existence and there is evidence to suggest they fished from this island. In 1839, and with European colonisation in full swing, it was decided to establish a convict settlement on the island. There are reports that a culture of extreme brutality existed, as the convicts were originally from the Norfolk island settlement and were regarded as the most vile and despicable rougues of the British Empire. With Cockatoo island being remote and difficult to access, all manner of mistreatments could be exercised without the general public being aware. Hard labour was the order of the day and there are many examples of this dotted about the island. Many convicts were worked to death and their bodies are rumoured to still be on the island, albeit never found.
Between 1870-1880, prisoners were relocated to Darlinghurst Gaol and Cockatoo Islands convict history was at an end, or so it seemed. Records have been questioned as the islands commander at the time was considered a notoriously corrupt villain. Apparently the number of convicts transferred did not tally with expectations, even though the records presented by the commander indicated all had. An investigation was initiated however before it could be completed the commander was killed when a drunk cut his throat in a bar-room brawl in Sydney's Rocks area, and the senior record keeper for the island was found drowned in the Fitzroy dock on the island. All remaining records mysteriously disappeared around this time.
With the removal of the convicts, the island became an industrial school and reformatory for girls and a ship the "Vernon" was anchored nearby to train orphaned boys. Again there are rumours of mistreatments and poor record keeping. It has not been possible to determine how many young boys and girls were sent to this place particularly as in 1888, due to overcrowded prisons, the worst offenders were returned to the island. It was in 1908 that Cockatoo Island would end its "official" role as a host for prisoners and young girls and boys without a home.
Australia became a federation in 1901, and in 1913 Cockatoo Island was to become the Commonwealth Naval Dockyard. From the outset security was high, and all workers were sworn to secrecy as to the activities on the island. Efforts to properly resolve the questions of the islands inhabitants before this time were blocked in the interests of national security. The island became a centre for heavy industry in shipbuilding and repair, with thousands of workers. In 1992 the dockyard closed and it was determined that the heavy industry had created severe contamination issues on the island and so was quarantined from any visits from the general public for the next nine years.
In 1996, a young Sydney University student, Melissa Cambridge, was sitting in the hospital room of her Grandfather, Arthur, who was dying. In a seemingly delirious moment after being administered pain relief he began to speak of some of the "people of the island", how he was warned to not converse with them, and how they were kept in the tunnels that had been built through the island. (He also spoke of a special "cargo" that was onboard a US warship docked for repairs on the island during the latter years of WWII, but his speech was at a point of nonsensical). Melissa made enquiries with her parents, but they were unaware of what Arthur was talking about and said he hardly ever discussed his time on the island. Her enquiries with the Navy and government resulted in standard form letters that gave only a brief detail of the islands history. Her requests to visit the island were rejected due to the risk from the contamination.
On the evening of 3rd April, 1997, according to police reports, Melissa Cambridge and three of her friends decided to attempt to visit the island illegally. A witness saw them leave in a small boat from Drummoyne just after dark, and this would be the last time they were ever seen again. On that night a man fishing from his dinghy on the harbour reported to police the sound of rivetting and the sight of smoke coming from the large chimney on the island. The police were unable to investigate due to the contamination quarantine, however they passed the report on to the defence department who investigated and advised nothing unusual on the island.
In 2001 the island, reportedly rehabilitated from the contamination, was handed over to the Sydney Harbour Federation Trust. In 2007 the island was opened to the public, including campers who can spend the night on the island. There have been many reports of unusual happenings by overnight visitors to the island.
*Note: Much of the information provided in this post can not be substantiated.
I intend this weekend to venture forth into the world of Biennale of SinCity. I do this for reasons multiple:
1) I wish to receive a dose of artistic radiation that may prove fatal to my philistine urges.
2) I wish to provide an energy boost to any scant creative urges I may have lurking in my own psyche.
3) I wish to at least temporarily escape the logical and uninspired world I inhabit.
If all goes well I will discover myself on the isle of the cockatoo's where I believe is housed several creations of talented folk. I shall steal their abilities and return to the Rockdalian Centre of Operations where I shall produce stunning and lucrative masterpieces which will set me up for life.
I have decided that this marks the beginning of an interest in what is termed as "Installation Art". I am intending to study this genre, and conduct a crusade to examine as many examples as possible. I want to understand, to see the point of it, love it and hate it. It is hoped that one day I may be able to indulge in transforming the Rockdalian CoO into such a space, as it is currently considered a minimalistic blank canvas. Although perhaps it is not, perhaps it speaks of bachelorisms with the brown leather couch, the uncluttered kitchen, the fucking big television, the slightly unclean bathroom, and the 12 pack of jonnies in the top drawer by the bed.... with 12 unused jonnies therein.
Forward, with eager eyes open!
I've been a fan of Sir Arthur CD's creation, the amateur yet clinically effective detective Holmes, for quite a while. I do believe that I have read each of the published adventures several times and live in hope that I have missed one or two that I may discover. When it comes to fictional characters, I prefer those that have already accomplished the task of understanding themselves and are now setting about the activity of understanding their environment. The dramatization of the Sherlock Holmes adventures has been done many times before (I believe it starts and ends with the depiction performed by Jeremy Brett during the eighties/nineties, but that's merely an opinion), and I approached with trepidation a viewing of the latest attempt with Robert Downey Jnr. in the lead role.
Let me start with the positives. London of the late 19th/early 20th century is depicted superbly, and presumably accurately. A bustling city with many different social classes all coated with a fine film of grime. The story and pace is entertaining, the focus is on loud, ostentatious exhibitions of eye candy and talented actors playing with their characters. There's little to despise in the film, but sometimes a little can be a lot.
Frankly, I'm not sure why they decided to use the Sherlock Holmes stories as the basis for the film. Downey Jnr. clearly dispensed with any attempt to depict the detective in the traditional way, instead presenting a character who is more of a super hero. Think "Iron Man" without the gizmo's and gadgets and a barely plausible English accent. Was it more a marketing issue? Did they think it would drag more punters through the door if they connected the film with a well known character?
Perhaps I'm a traditionalist on the matter. Pig-headed!
Documentary film maker Michael Moore has had quite a bit of success over the past few years, largely I believe due to his ability to present his story in an entertaining fashion. There's no doubt his doco's do fall short with regards to a balanced presentation of fact, but they spark the audience to think about the issues and that's a good thing.
The recent financial crises has given Moore material to further display the problems with the USA today. The relentless push by the people and the corporations to make as much money as possible while dismissing the basic requirements that people need in a civilised society fuel the film that titles this post. Focusing on the decay of industry in several American cities and the tragic effects of the GFC on ordinary people who find themselves in financial ruin, Moore spends much of the film holding the concept of capitalism as the villain responsible for the mayhem.
I was starting to get a little annoyed at this biased view as the film rolled merrily on, as I felt it was far too simplistic to blame capitalism for the evils of the world. And then, finally, he hit on what the real problem was. I actually have a great deal of admiration for the USA and the economic principles that have resulted in its wealth. It has fueled innovation, provided efficient resource distribution, and improved standards of living for many people. But, it has to be said that previous American governments have been so horrendously useless it beggars belief. Under the ridiculous excuse of anti-communism, previous administrations have constantly deregulated important industries and left them to the vulturism of big business. Health is one, and finance another. Large profit making firms are simply not to be trusted, and it is a foolhardy government that hands control of industries over to these companies and invites them to do with them whatever they like. Regulation is important, because it keeps the bastards honest.
I sometimes wonder whether Moore's films ever result in change. Some indications are that things are heading in a more positive direction under the Obama administration, so perhaps things are improving. The things is, until the USA puts its people first and it's corporate scum second, I fear we will see more and more of Moore.
