2nd August, 2022
I’ve known Marissa Zaknich for a very long time. She has been teaching here at the college for longer than I’ve known her. I did not hesitate to say yes when she asked me to open your show. I have written some notes on these two pieces of paper.
At 2pm on Sunday I am writing a piece to read at the exhibition of year 12 art students at what I understand incorrectly to be Leichhardt High School.
I say this in ignorance being that I have failed to keep up with many changes in the world. For example, if I drive through the White Bay intersection, the space cannot be understood, because, while it is made from concrete and steel, it is in a state of flux and defies understanding. An imminent stage of conclusion may appear to offer more substance however, that will be illusory too, because it will be already hinting at a future perceived failure and need for improvement.
I opened this show before, possibly when today’s students were not yet born, when Marissa still had black hair, when I was unimproved, and less able to make the sense I am able to make today.
Between my last opening this show and now, my daughter Agatha opened another show here and would have made much more sense than I do today or did before.
Time moves deliciously around in beautiful circles and we artists are lucky to be able to inscribe those circles in the sand or whatever material comes to hand, or mind.
I think maybe, when I spoke before I would have spoken about the show and what a privilege it is, to begin to be a part of the Art World. The two words, art world, have been disfigured by the actual art world, which is a slippery and dangerous place.
My Art World comes with caps and is in fact a glorious world of opportunities, discoveries, illuminations and rewards. It is a place where ‘life’ provides the best possible medium in which those activities occur. Life was invented to provide a studio to make art.
‘Life’ is a studio.
I think when I spoke before I was not yet fully disillusioned. I still had foolish hopes for myself and for art. I think, if I was eighteen again and heard myself talking today, I would be deaf to my wisdom, and say, this guy is bad, not in a good way.
I remember when I was eighteen, I was probably full of whatever it was that was about to make me a fully entitled prepossessed white male entity and I apologise for that as much as I can , which is sadly not much, as a consequence of the power of that programming.
If I was eighteen though again, despite that disadvantage, I would not hear a word of what I’m saying, or maybe one or two I would hear, which I would apply to suit my fantasy.
I think before, when I opened this show, I would have spoken of glorious light and hope and adventure. I would have wanted to open your hearts, to hear you speak, and I do feel for that optimism still. The reality is though, that darkness brings us more alive. Oppression makes us initially weak but ultimately strong. Culture, new culture, a real voice breaks through cracks laid in concrete laid by master builders, who were well meaning!
The more horrible life is, the more beautiful art becomes. These are, ironically, beautiful times.
At my last opening speech I recited a poem, ‘The Balmain Traffic Poem’, which has been taken down from being installed at White Bay for twenty years.
Agatha and I recently installed ‘Become The Part’ at Camperdown, outside the RPA. It’s another poem, a shorter one, quick to recite, but covers themes explored here today.
Go well dear graduates into the night, to sleep, or stay awake, as you decide.