Aerial is the work of Horsham artist Donal Molloy Drum, who was assisted by students from the McKenzie Creek campus of Horsham College. The artwork was funded by the Rural City of Horsham under an arts funding scheme.

Consisting of a cleaverly arranged series of two-dimensional metal silhouettes, one can almost visualise the invisible carcass that’s aroused the ravens’ interest.

Aerial is located in Jos Lane, a tiny thoroughfare located between two shops that one could so easily pass-by and never see. Perhaps it is the location which adds to one’s sense of surprise as one looks up to see Drum’s brilliant work.

Below the ravens are a series of murals which are attached to the shop wall.

It was a real delight discovering this fine rural work of art that would sit just as comfortably in one of Melbourne’s trendy inner suburbs as it does in this regional city of 14,000 people.

The above two photographs were shot in May 2011 on Ilford SFX 200 black-and-white film.

I have been convinced for quite some time that film is making a resurgence, and for very good reason. I have no hard data, but the woman who processes my films at the camera shop had told me that film sales are “definitely up, almost booming” and Kodak have also said that there’s a resurgence in film sales.  Even anecdotally on Flickr, there seem to be more and more people turning back to film photography.

People are coming to realise that film has definite advantages over digital photography.

Approximately 75% of my photography these days is shot on film. Some of my reasons for returning to film are technical and some of them are emotional but regardless, I generally find that film delivers a superior result for me.

Here are some of my reasons for choosing film:

1. Film has a Broader Dynamic Range

If I use a 100ISO film in an analogue camera, and set my digital to ISO100 and shoot a room with a bright window, or a neon sign lit at dusk, or a garden filled with dappled light, I am almost inevitably happier with the film version. Why? Because if I choose the correct film (there are many types), I will be able to see detail in the dark parts of the room which appear as black in the digital version. This is called latitude, which digital photography tends to lack.

If I am shooting something bright but coloured like a smokey sunset or a vivid neon sign, a digital camera will render the brightest light sources as white, regardless of their proper colour. Film will reproduce those bright points in their true colours, so a red light will be red. Not red grading to pink with a white centre.

Here’s an example:  The images below are of a church in Millicent, South Australia. The top image is digital (Canon EOS 350D) and the bottom image was shot on Fujifilm Superia Reala 100 film, using a Canon EOS 500N . I wanted to capture the warmth and the ambience of the building, but this was a tricky location because the church was a dark yet the windows and skylight were very bright.

In the film version, I can see more detail in the dark places without the bright parts being blown out. If I look at the pews and the ceiling of the digital version, then compare to the film version, the difference is immediately apparent.

Here’s another example: A photograph taken from the Rialto Towers Observation Deck of the city of Melbourne at dusk.

Look at how the film version – shot on Fujifilm Velvia 100 – has richer colours, clearer tones and sharper resolution. The bright spots on Flinders Street station (centre right) are blown out in the digital version so that the pixels are either white or tending to orange, whereas in the film version they retain their true (and accurate) yellow colour. The subtle tones of the buildings are clearer and even the haze in the sky is captured on film, whereas the digital photo shows the sky as an almost single shade of blue.

2. Film is more challenging, but more rewarding

Film demands that thought be put into the composition of each image before the shutter button is pressed. Therefore I find film to be more challenging, but consequently more rewarding when one strikes photographic gold. For me at least, there’s more to celebrate in a ‘brilliant’ film photograph than a digital one.

One doesn’t always want a challenge. Sometimes if I really need a shot, such as when composition an action shot, I won’t use film. But if I am in a situation where time permits, film will usually be my first choice.

3. Film is “authentic”

It strikes me as peculiar that the latest iPhone cameras come with applications that make their digital photos appear to be shot on film or as Polaroids. It begs the very obvious question: If you want the look of film, why not use film?

It is hard to quantify, but film has an authenticity that digital photography lacks.

Perhaps it is the natural vignetting that is a product of a lens rather than a Photoshop effect? Or maybe the softer colours or gentle grain that puts soul into the image?

^{The vignetting in this image is a natural effect from the lens mounted on the camera. (Shot on Fujifilm Superia Reala 100 film)}

4. Black-and-white & high-ISO look better on film

Black-and-white photography has a quality that colour lacks. Photographers may use black-and-white to provide an evocative element in an image or to add drama. Yet there’s really something lacking in digital black-and-white photography. Photographer Ken Rockwell puts it down to digital’s inability to capture tone and shade as well as film, in part because of the failings of colour digital sensors.

Whatever the differences may be, I know that nothing compares to a decent film-based black-and-white photo. Likewise, if I want grain, a high-ISO film will always look better than a crude Photoshop effect or high-ISO setting on a digital.

^{St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Melbourne. (Shot on Ilford PANF Plus 50 film)}

5. Film has resolution

On his website, photographer Ken Rockwell writes that “A frame of 35mm film, scanned cheaply at a good photo lab to a CD, is about equal to the resolution of a 25-megapixel DSLR”. Ask yourself: How many people have 25-megapixel cameras?

Of course, this resolution is possible because of scanning technology as much as the film itself. As scanners become increasingly better, higher resolution scans from slide or colour-reversal films are possible. But the other half of the equation is the very detail (ie information) captured on the film in the first place.

Film is an old technology which on a technical level, hasn’t been matched in resolution by digital photography ever. For a whole range of technical reasons, film can capture considerably more detail without converting your images to pixels, adding noise reductions and the like which all reduce image clarity.

In thirty years time, most people’s digital JPG images are going to look fairly poor by the standards of the day, and there will be no way to increase the resolution of those digital images to extract more information. However, in thirty years time it will be possible to re-scan an old negative or slide and the digital image will be of a quality that the technology of the time will permit.

6. Film is fun!

In an era when we can so easily get instant gratification, I actually like waiting for my photos to be processed. I genuinely look forward to collecting my prints or slides to see how my images turned out after a big shoot. I relish the joy of discovering that what I imagined would be “photographic gold” actually turned out better than I imagined.

And yes, sometimes I am disappointed. (Tony Abbott has a phrase to describe this phenomenon).

Conclusion

Everyone will have their own reasons for preferring film over digital, or vice versa. It will depend on what one wants from their photos, and their photography. If you still have an old film camera lying around at home, why don’t you buy some film give it another go? You might be pleasantly surprised.

In the peak of the digital craze, I almost sold my film camera. I am ever so grateful now that I was talked out of that silly idea.

Heide is one of those enjoyable gallery and garden venues where one can stroll around endlessly discovering interesting works in a vast garden, have a picnic lunch, tour the gallery or admire the architecture. In fact, it is very similar to the McClelland Gallery and Sculpture Park in Langwarrin, but with a lesser emphasis on outdoor sculpture. With Melbourne’s crippling drought finally ended and some beautiful spring weather of late, the gardens at Heide are looking absolutely splendid at present.

I first went to Heide in 1996 on a high school excursion and immediately fell in love with the place. I wasn’t so enamoured with the gallery, but the gardens and the architecture held considerable appeal, and the significant history of the site was not lost on me either. We were permitted some free time to explore the gardens and I made the most of the opportunity to discover hidden works of art and learn why Heide was held in such high regard by Melbourne’s arts community.

Heide was built as a farm house and purchased by John Reed (a solicitor) and wife Sunday Quinn (née Baillieu) in 1932. Both Reed and Quinn had a broad appreciation of the arts, in particular the late 19th century “Heidelberg School” painters and the modernist art movement that was emerging in Melbourne at the time. Progressively, they opened their house up to a circle of artists, writers, musicians, poets and garden enthusiasts and Heide became a major focus for the Melbourne arts community throughout the 1940’s, 1950’s and 1960’s.

Significant Australian artists such as Sam Atyeo, Albert Tucker, Joy Hester, Michael Keon, Sidney Nolan, Danila Vassilieff, Mirka Mora, Charles Blackman, Arthur Boyd, John Perceval and Mike Brown enjoyed the hospitality and support of the Reeds at Heide. Sidney Nolan painted most of his famous Ned Kelly paintings in the Reeds’ lounge room!

In the 1963, the Reeds commissioned Victorian architect David McGlashan to design a new home for their property, which would be known as Heide II. Built from Mount Gambier limestone and designed in the modernist style of the period, the building was created in part to exude an air of mystery and agelessness whilst functioning as a home and gallery space. McGlashan’s design went on to win the Royal Australian Institute of Architects’ bronze medal in 1963 and is considered one of Victoria’s most influential modernist buildings from that period.

What I like most about Heide II is the design of the building, which includes a series of L-shaped limestone walls that effectively create mini outdoor galleries. The walls function to highlight individual works of art, but in combination with selected plantings actually serve to reinforce the strong architectural features of the house. If nothing else, it is fun to walk between these ‘rooms’, discovering the hidden treasures within.

In 1981, the Museum of Modern Art was established on the property and Heide II was opened as a public gallery. In 1991, Heide III was opened which extended the gallery space. In 2005-6, parts of the Heide site were redeveloped so that an education centre could be built, extensions made to Heide III and the addition of new outdoor sculptural works incorporated into the landscape.

Today, the Heide Museum of Modern Art remains a significant centre for displaying modern art. Both a permanent collection and periodical exhibitions are displayed in the gallery. Outside is a vast property filled with sculptures, landscaped gardens and plenty of quiet places to explore or rest. One can also take a guided tour of Heide II.

Heidi Museum of Modern Art is located at 7 Templestowe Road, Bulleen and is open from 10am until 5pm Tuesdays to Sundays inclusive. Entry to the grounds is free.

If you’ve not been to Heide of late, I highly recommend a visit!

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:

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}

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.

^{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.

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.

Sharing the same surname and an uncanny likeness to the “Dear Leader”, Kim Young-sik has become well-known for his impersonation of  the world’s most mysterious dictator. You can watch Mark Willacy’s light-hearted story below, which was broadcast on ABC1 in Melbourne this evening:

Footage Copyright © 2009, Australian Broadcasting Corporation.

By trade, Kim Young-sik is an engraver, but since he discovered his resemblance to Kimg Jong-il, he has starred in Japanese film clips, Korean films and numerous public performances in Seoul.

^{The real Kim Jong-il}

As it turns out, Kim Young-sik is not the only Kim Jong-il impersonator, but he certainly seems to have become the most famous!

The Skipping Girl sign was erected for Skipping Girl Vinegar in 1936. Her design was created by Jim Minogue in 1915, who won a competition to create a symbol for vinegar manufacturers Nycander & Co. Pty Ltd. He based his design on his eight-year old sister, Kitty (who later became a nun). When the factory was demolished in 1968 the sign was removed, but following a public outcry, a replica was created in 1970 and placed on the roof of the Crusader Plate factory in Abbotsford.

The sign, which is one of the most loved and recognised icons of Melbourne, has again been sitting in the dark since 2001, after it’s owners decided to pull the plug on funding and maintenance.

As reported on The Grapevine back in 2008, the National Trust was looking for $60,000 to have the sign restored.

Following generous donations from nostalgic Melbournians, the Heriage Council of Victoria, the Melbourne Heritage Restoration Fund and an electricity company, the sign was taken down in March for restoration at Delta Neon’s factory in Heidelberg.

Last Wednesday 10 June, the restored sign was illuminated for the first time.

Unfortunately I was unable to attend the big launch, but I had a good look this evening and it was great to see Little Audrey skipping again.

As an added bonus, “green electricity” is being supplied by an electricity company to keep her illuminated and minimise any negative environmental effects arising from her operation.

More information:

The Skipping Girl sign shines every night at 651-653 Victoria Street, Abbotsford.

The sponsoring electricity company has provided a website here, and you can also see pictures of the restoration at Delta Neon by Mimmo Cozzolino and the Heritage Council on Flickr.