Three weeks ago, Melbourne’s famous Hamer Hall hosted its final concert before closing it’s doors to make way for a $128.5 million renovation, funded by the State Government.

Originally known as the Melbourne Concert Hall, the complex was designed by Sir Roy Grounds and opened in 1982 after a lengthy land dispute with the City of Melbourne, ongoing engineering problems and industrial action that had hampered its construction for several years.

^{The exterior of Hamer Hall, illuminated at dusk}

After its opening, the Melbourne Concert Hall became a much-loved cultural hub, playing host to the world’s finest performers, orchestras and groups from Australia and abroad.

Whilst the Melbourne Concert Hall wasn’t very striking from the outside, the interior was fitted-out by expatriate designer John Truscott, who created a distinctive and luscious environment in which the public could enjoy a ‘special night out’ in the city.

^{Cadbury-Schweppes Room}

John Truscott’s opulent interiors are very special: The colours have been very carefully selected to create a rich atmosphere (a signature trait of Truscott’s).

From the box office with its gold-leaf ceiling to the lobby spaces with their rich red carpet or the verdant green of the Cadbury-Schweppes Room, Truscott created unique and distinctive interior spaces that contained only the finest of furnishings and fittings. The use of padded leather as a ‘wallpaper’ in many of the corridor spaces is certainly something I have never seen elsewhere, but suited the building extraordinarily well.

Sadly, it seems that most of Truscott’s legacy is to be destroyed during the renovations.

The huge glass chandelier in the foyer, created by Michel Santry and called Arcturus, is to be removed permanently. And if  the official preview images are anything to go by, there won’t be much of Truscott’s work left when the renovation is complete. The Victorian Arts Centre website states rather vaguely:

“The important contribution made to the interiors by interior designer John Truscott has been a key consideration in planning the redevelopment of Hamer Hall. The proposed changes to the interiors, both in the foyers and the auditorium, have been arrived at following considerable thought and care to ensure that the existing interiors are retained as much as possible”.

I don’t see much evidence of this.

^{Illustration of the planned refurbishment of Hamer Hall}

Last year I made a detailed photographic study of Hamer Hall as part of Melbourne Open House. Recognising the significance of Hamer Hall’s interior architecture, and suspicious that the State Government would trash yet another of our modern architectural masterpieces in it’s never-ending quest for the “modern” , I made a studious attempt to capture the essence of Hamer Hall, before it was all destroyed.

And destroyed it will be.

The original plans showed a horrible glass shard that would pierce the rear balcony to create a new entrance, but the latest renders seem to have omitted this particularly ugly feature.

^{The latest render of the redeveloped Hamer Hall.}

We can’t halt progress forever, but it seems a tragedy to me that we care so little about mid- to late- 20th century interior design. The National Gallery of Victoria had it’s interior destroyed, now it seems to be Hamer Hall’s turn. I wonder what we’ll have left from this period, if even John Truscott’s work is not considered significant enough to preserve?

Some pictures, for posterity:

During the week, I decided to attend the Gertrude Street Projection Festival in the Melbourne inner-city suburb of Fitzroy.

I first attended this intriguing event in 2009, and was suitably impressed to make a return visit in 2010. The free festival, which runs for a week every July, provides an opportunity for artists to utilise the shops and buildings in Gertrude Street as a ‘projection screen’ upon which their electronic artworks can be presented for all to enjoy.

It works like this: An artist sets-up a projector or projectors from which emanates a light show. Projections range from those presented on a small screen in a shop window to small projections on trees or footpaths right up to elaborate patters over entire buildings. They can be animated, or static. It seems that the traders get right behind the festival each year, which adds to its charm.

There are so many impressive works which in 2010 have been contributed by 23 artists. The enjoyable part of the Gertrude Street Projection festival is that projections can be found in the most obscure of places, so the visitor has to be really observant so as not to miss anything.

Street projection is a democratic art form; projections can be enjoyed by children, parents and grandparents alike. The varied presentations can be appreciated for their simple luminescent beauty or the complex but subtle metaphors hidden in some of the more complicated pieces.

One of my favourite works in this year’s Festival was Ménage à Trois, by Nick Azidis. His work involved projecting a series of patterns over the Builders’ Arms Hotel from an upstairs shop window on the opposite side of the street which had the effect of draping the entire pub in luminescent patterns that were changed each day. His work is simple, but bold and eye-catching and it is his style of wallpapering whole buildings with light that I appreciate the most at the Festival. Fellow artist Kit Webster also illustrated an entire building with animated projections that rearranged like a deck of cards thrown across a table top. The effect was stunning, and it’s a pity that this treatment isn’t applied to more buildings.

I happened to be photographing Ménage à Trois when Nick Azidis introduced himself to me. He’d been setting up his display when he saw me set-up my tripod outside the Builders’ Arms Hotel and was curious to see what I was up to. After a friendly chat about the various aspects of projection art Nick Azidis kindly agreed to answer some of my questions for The Grapevine.

How long have you been projecting images onto buildings?
It all started when I lived in the city of Melbourne in 1992. Constant temptation, being surrounded by colossal buildings, set the inner spark.

What is the creative process from inspiration to execution?
Responding to the projection site and transforming it into an object of beauty that will inspire or provoke a new and different way of thinking, for a short moment in time.

How did you come across the Gertrude Street festival and how long  have you been participating?
This is the second year I’ve been involved with the Gertrude Street Projection Festival. In 2009, I was introduced to the co-founders of the festival, by a good friend of mine that I have worked on many show with over years, Olaf Myer (Technical Director for the GSPF).

Are you a full-time artist, or do you have a ‘day job’?
Always a struggle to find that balance from week to week. I do have a casual job in the television industry and most of my spare time is spent doing pre-production for commissioned projection work.

Is there a projectionist ‘community’ in Melbourne, or is it an individualistic pursuit?
Yes! The Projection art community has been growing every year in Melbourne, especially now with the Gertrude Street Projection festival on the calendar.
I find it interesting and always exciting working and collaborating with other projection artists. It can often lead to mysterious and unknown outcomes, which I like.

Do you  have artistic influences?
Yes. With projections, some of the things that inspire and influence me include architecture, photography and repetitive background patterns and motifs. I’m also influenced by symbols; logos; trademarks; geometrical and optical art; Chinese lattice designs; traditional Japanese stencils; silk fabric designs; textures; traditional Islamic designs and Aboriginal art.

You mentioned that you have some commissioned works? Where can we  see those?
Alumbra (Shed 14, Docklands) : 14 Kodak slide projection installation
The Lounge (Swanston Street, Melbourne) :11 Kodak slide and moving projection installation
La Di Da (Little Bourke Street, Melbourne) : 8  Kodak slide projection installation
Red Bennies (Chapel Street, South Yarra): 5 Kodak slide projection installation

^{Image: Nick Azidis}

Last weekend, I had the pleasure of visiting the Ron Mueck exhibition at the National Gallery of Victoria.

Ron Mueck (1958-) is an Australian-born hyper-realist sculptor who now works in the United Kingdom. His latest exhibition displays 11 of his key works.

Mueck’s sculptures attempt to reproduce the minute detail of the human body, but play with scale to produce disconcertingly jarring visual images. His characters are often naked and suspended in states of self-consciousness, introspection or deep contemplation. Viewing them almost  breeds embarrassment or empathy at the vulnerability of the individual.

The technical skill in producing such detailed works is impressive. The head, with it’s fine strands of hair and small patches of blood on A Girl (an oversized newborn baby, complete with remains of an umbilical cord) has to be seen to be believed, because aside from the gigantic scale, looks entirely real.

Of course, not everyone likes Mueck’s work. Guardian columnist Jonathan Jones described his works in 2006 as “blank, empty and brainless” and Mueck’s admirers as people who needed to get out more. Naturally, others disagree, including myself.

One of my favourite sculptures was Old Woman in Bed (2000), which I consider the most evocative of Mueck’s works.

Ron Mueck’s exhibition is showing at the National Gallery of Victoria until 18 April 2010. Entry for adults is $15.

Today I attended the Great Moments in History sand-sculpturing event in the Melbourne suburb of Frankston, and had a great time!

^{A Spanish conquistador, made of sand.}

I’d never been to a sand-sculpting event before, although I’d seen pictures of sand-sculptures on television so I was taken aback with the beauty and detail  of the sculptures when I saw them for myself.

^{_{Workers add touches to the Sydney Opera House sand sculpture.}}

Sand sculpture is the art of making temporary artworks from sand, using just sand and water for construction and simple tools to shape the works. Each work is called a pile, and there were 18 piles at the Great Moments in History exhibition.

Organised by Sandstorm Events, the exhibition travels around various parts of the country, charging a small entry free for viewing. The show has been located in Frankston for the past few years, appearing on the foreshore every summer.

_{A tribute to ancient Egyptian society}

As the name would suggest, this year’s show depicted various moments in history, starting with the Egyptian pyramids and ending with the best inventions of the 2oth century. There were sculptures depicting the Roman, Spanish, French and British empires, the moon landing, the Crusades, the World Wars and even Barak Obama!

^{The Vietnam War, executed in sand.}

My favourite sculptures were those depicting the Spanish empire, and the Roman empire. I was also especially impressed with the Aztec temple, which stood 6 metres high!

There was an Australian sculpture, which depicted the nation’s discovery by Captain James Cook, an Aboriginal elder, kangaroos, Vegemite, a meat pie, and the winning of the Americas Cup amongst other events.

The quality and detail of the sculptures varied. Whilst the Chinese display had a beautifully detailed dragon, I felt the other components were relatively plain. There was also some technical inconsistency in the “greatest inventions” display, although the wrapped dynamite sticks were very well executed.

Local Frankston sand is not used for the sculptures as it is unsuitable for sculpture. In the case of the Great Moments in History exhibition, builders’ sand was quarried from the Graham Quarries in Langwarren, which accounts for its orangey colour.

I thoroughly recommend a visit to the Great Moments in History exhibition in Frankston. Located on the foreshore near the Kananook Creek Bridge, entry to the exhibition costs $10 for adults. A programme costs an additional 50¢.

The show will remain open until 26 April 2010.

I was browsing through my photo album today when I discovered an old photo that I’d shot on film back in 1999.

The photograph was of a topiarised specimen of Chamaecyparis lawsoniana, which I Christened the “Happy Conifer“.

The shrub grew in the the front garden of a house in Vermont South. Seeing it again, a smile immediately came to my face, not just because of its appearance, but because of the story that lay behind the Happy Conifer’s creation.

^{The Happy Conifer in Danielle Court, Vermont South. Photographed by the author in 1999.}

As you can see from the photograph, the conifer had been clipped into a lovely big face, complete with bristling big eyebrows. Standing on the corner of two streets, it almost appeared to have a personality of its own.

Despite its jovial appearance, it is the story behind this topiary’s creation that I find most interesting. For the Happy Conifer was in fact a happy accident of sorts.

The owner of this property (whom I don’t know personally) appeared to be very keen on growing conifers. In fact, his entire garden consisted of hundreds of different species, all beautifully trimmed into neat shapes. Sometimes I would see the owner trimming his plants, standing atop a trestle that he’d especially erected for the purpose.

Clearly, I was not the only person who’d noticed his dedication to horticultural art, because someone with a more devious motive made a decision to do some topiary of their own.

The Happy Conifer is Born.

One Sunday morning when I was passing by, I noticed there’d been a sudden change in the landscape.

Maybe it was drunken Saturday-night prank? Maybe it was just a dare or an act of coniferous jealousy? Whatever it was, I quickly noticed that someone had passed-by under the cover of darkness and hacked a giant face into the conifer. Appreciating the effort that went into this garden, I felt somewhat sorry for that poor man who spent all the time clipping his plants. Yet at the same time, I have to admit to being somewhat amused because it really did look funny.

I was expecting that the gardener would probably let the face ‘grow out’ and write it off as a nasty act of vandalism. But instead, it seems he may have been amused too because rather than disappearing, the face underwent some ‘plastic surgery’ over the next few years. Slowly it was transformed from a few crude shapes into a piece of sculpture!

Obviously, I was not the only resident curious to watch the transformation. Another local resident went to the trouble of submitting a photo to the Burke’s Backyard magazine in 1998. Norma Shaw’s image, reproduced below, clearly shows the Happy Conifer during its transitive years.

^{A photograph of the Happy Conifer by Norma Shaw,which appeared in Burke’s Backyard magazine in 1998.}

After many many years of amusing Vermont South residents, the Happy Conifer met its demise not too long ago, in a storm. It has since been removed. Having myself moved away from the area, I have no idea whether the same people still live in that house in Danielle Court,  Vermont South.

Nevertheless, having brought a smile to my face, I thought it only reasonable to spread the joy to others; the sort of joy that only a shrub with a face can provide.