Day 11

Home, Sara Hilden Art Gallery, Park behind the fountain

Not really enough time to write anything of worth this morning as have to complete the slide presentation for the event that I am hosting at Malinantra Art Centre after this afternoon. 4pm is the strangest time that I have ever given a talk, but it is a time that I agreed to when it  was recommended. I think that I might actually keel over, I really struggle with energy levels in the afternoon. Still me and Naosie will be armed with den making materials, pencils, paper and I am looking at all the coffee filter papers that I have not used thinking that maybe the children can do something fun with them.

I’ve been over the talk with Naoise and he has agreed on the slides of his work that I will be showing and the extracts from the blog that I intend to read out. I am hoping that he might contribute to the question and answer session, but really his job we have decided is to play with any children that might be there. I am sure whatever happens we will end up delineating from the plan. IMPROVISATION expecting INTERRUPTION and just relaxing and going with the flow is key. I might not even get to the end of the talk….

We sit on the big bean bags slump down sunday style and watch the silent film of Ron Muek at work in his studio. The process is fascinating, the product is dull and boring and predictable. Much care and attention is given to perfecting the making of his hyperreal dolls. When we get bored we wonder around the concrete palace and awe at his creatures.

Some of the sculptures are too scary for Naosie to look at. He does’nt like the dead chicken, the man with a slash wound in his side or the woman given birth. Its all object and spectacle. Its all Madame Tussauds and a bit tacky.  More curiosity show than meaningful art.

I like the mother carrying her baby and weighed down by two orange shopping bags the best, mainly because of the subject. I am probably also reading far too much into it……the weight of being a mother….The small male figure wrapped in a womb of blankets is also drawing me in.

Giant baby is ugly and the paint work seems scrappy in comparison to the smaller works.

Naoise is enjoying playing with all the filters on his smart phone camera.

The gallery is very quiet. The audience is very reverential. People watch the documentary films from beginning to end. They pay to see the art. Are they so respectful because they have paid to see all this theatre ? Or is this how it is in all galleries. The audience value the experience.

Me and Naoise grow bored of the gallery, its sunny outside and its time to find the park.

We head for the park behind the fountain again. Children like familiarity. We find the park much different. Its late Sunday afternoon and it is bustling with families playing with their children. Naoise has to take it in turns to make a river. Some of the play equipment has been cornered off.

A very young child balances precariously at the top of the climbing frame. I see many onlookers breathing in with anxiety. Eventually he is rescued by his dad.

We play a game of chase and hide and seek and then I help Naoise make the river flow faster and then it is time for home.

In the evening I struggle to try and complete the presentation, and to care for Naoise. It is in fact impossible and I give up in the end.