The CavemanChapter 63
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Work on my "thesis" officially started on Tuesday the 28th. So I went in to the Gallery to see whether I could garner a work area. It actually turned out to be relatively simple, I was granted space in the 'study room, ' which has facilities for a dozen people at a time; but I found the true problem was locating Hans Heysen's works. Several of the oils were up, but everything else seemed to be in storage. And that was the kicker.
The Art Gallery of NSW is, indeed, the lovely building I was sitting in. But only about 5% of the collection is on display at any one time. Moreover, in 2008 John Kaldor and his family announced their intention to give the John Kaldor Family Collection to the state. This was the catalyst for the government to provide funds to the Gallery to build a state-of-the-art offsite storage facility to allow capacity within the Gallery to display the collection.
The gift enabled the re-development of the Gallery's old storage area and existing display space to create an entire new floor of 3300 square metres of exhibition territory. The floor comprises the John Kaldor Family Gallery, a suite of contemporary and modern galleries, a dedicated photography gallery, and the study room for the works on paper collection.
And much of the vast amount of stuff that was in storage is now in storage off-site. For example, the watercolour 'Summer, ' which won Heysen the 1909 Wynne prize, isn't on display. And is situated in an "undisclosed location." (That's to deter thieves.)
I was going to have to look up every item listed and see whether the online data matched the object and then construct my catalogue. Chasing around to locate the works would not be fun. But I would get to know Brent Willison, the Collections Registrar.
I talked to Patrick about it.
"If it were really easy, they wouldn't give you honours for it," he said.
"True."
"And you were supportive when I was studying Procedure, so I can try and help you."
"Thanks."
"Remember, I've still got four weeks."
Winnie had phoned to invite me to lunch for Monday, August 10. "Dress semi-formal. Rachel Kent and Natasha Bullock will be here – from the MCA [Museum of Contemporary Art]. I want you to meet them. They might be very helpful in the future."
"Do you think so?"
"Definitely. If you're staying in Sydney, there's here, there and the Nicholson. So you'll need an elsewhere. Anyway, meet at my office a bit before noon. Be smart, be relaxed."
I told Patrick what Winnie had said. He agreed. "You need variety. The Nicholson is part of Sydney. The Gallery is where you've been working. Unless you want to work for a sales gallery, there's only the MCA here. Oh, I guess the Museum ... but that would mean working for dad."
On Friday we went to the opera – Verdi's Don Carlos. I loved it, especially the duet between Carlo and his friend Rodrigo. But the scene with the bass voices – King Philip and the Grand Inquisitor – was thrilling. I'd read up on the five-act, French version, even though Opera Australia did the four-act Italian one. It's very long with an enormous cast. Neither of us had ever read the Schiller play, so we'd no notion of the changes. But the notes narrated the intricacies of the various versions, additions and deletions that Verdi had executed over a 20-year period. But the basis of the disasters was strange: imagine your father marrying your fiancee! And having your best friend killed! No, Philip II was no nice guy.
In two weeks, we'd be at Marriage of Figaro. We both like Mozart. In September, we decided on Cole Porter's Anything Goes. It's not a Savoy Opera, but it's as close as we'll get this season. In January, we're going to a matinee of The Magic Flute. Patrick is hoping folks will bring children and he's interested in their reactions.
On Monday, Patrick drove me to the Gallery. I was there before 11:45, but I was the last.
"There you are!" said Winnie cheerily. "Let me introduce you to Rachel Kent and Natasha Bullock. Rachel Hollister." We all said "hello" and shook hands. (I thought of Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dee in the Disney Alice.)
"I saw your mother last week," Natasha said.
"My mother?" I was truly amazed.
"Yes. We're hoping she'll serve on our Board or at least a committee."
"Oh. Not my mother. My mother-in-law."
"Oh, dear. Another faux pas. I'm sorry."
"No problem," I said. "You just startled me. I hadn't thought my mother had been in Sydney."
"Where does your family live?" Rachel (the other Rachel) asked.
"Canberra. My dad's with the CSIRO. My in-laws are local."
"And you're working here?" enquired Natasha.
"In a fashion. I interned here several terms. But I'm completing my honours by cataloguing the Heysens."
"There's never been a real catalogue," Winnie added.
"Interesting. Are you into early twentieth century representational art?"
"Not really. If I can find an advisor, I want to do a dissertation on the Australian landscape."
Rachel looked puzzled. "Don't you see Heysen as a landscapist?"
"Of sorts. But Fred Williams was 50 years his junior. And Dupain only a bit less. And they saw a far different sort of landscape."
"You see Max Dupain as a landscapist?" Natasha shot a glance at her boss.
"Let me interrupt here," Winnie said. "Let's go to lunch and continue this in a bit."
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