If you’re wondering what happened to this newsletter, I’m afraid it has been subject to entirely human problems. That is, as a one-man band, I simply haven’t had time to sit down and contemplate writing a piece. I’ve been travelling pretty much non-stop for more than two weeks, and I’m still in the thick of it.
This is the point where people say: “I wish I had your job!” and I say: “Be careful what you wish for.” If I didn’t enjoy the travel I wouldn’t be doing it, but this period has been exceptionally gruelling. Not only have I struggled with a (non-COVID) cough I can’t seem to shake, but my circadian rhythms are all over the shop.
I could tell one horror story after another about parts of this long trip, but you don’t need to hear the gory details. Certain small things stick in my mind. Why, for instance, does Qantas have to tell us to use the word “safe” about 43 times in its pre-flight video and announcements? If a flight is anything at all, it should be safe. If it is, then why does the airline have to keep reassuring us?
It is, of course, another symptom of the idiocy of our times, that even big corporations have got into the verbal habit of using buzz words in the most empty, modish way. As people are forever claiming they don’t feel “safe” if someone disagrees with their passive-aggressive, narrow-minded views, it has become obligatory to proclaim “safety” on every occasion. But on a flight, it’s an unfortunate choice of words, because it immediately starts one thinking: “Why do they keep going on about being safe? Is there something wrong?”
Things that do require a safety warning, such as the quality of the food on British Airways, pass without a word. As for Qantas, no-one can feel safe that they won’t find a new way of ripping off customers under the guise of innovations or reforms. Or cancel your flight at the last minute because they haven’t sold enough seats to turn the requisite profit. As a legacy of the hideous Alan Joyce, Qantas is an unfriendly place for customers and employees, although wonderfully safe for chief executives and board members. Feels like home to me…
Anyway, it’s not as if there is a shortage of topics to write about. On the contrary, there are far too many. The Powerhouse Museum saga goes on and on, becoming more secretive and dishonest by the minute. Will the media EVER wake up and write a decent exposé? It’s a constant indictment on how slack and useless the press has become. Indeed, they should add special categories to the Walkleys for Most Skilful Avoidance of an Issue, Best Rewriting of a Press Release, Most Gullible Journo of the year… I could go on and on.
In London, since my last (pre-COVID) visit, the progress of all things PC has been dramatic. In exhibitions I was struck by the prim, disapproving tone of the wall labels. In Sargent and Fashion, at Tate Britain, the anonymous label writer could barely contain their disgust at the Victorians for dressing up in Turkish costumes as fancy dress, “with little regard for their cultural history” (!). And as for Robert Louis Stevenson and his wife, Fanny, “they dsplayed a disregard for the cultures from which the garments orginated.” For shame, Louis! Shame on all you dead Victorians who failed to anticipate the cultural sensitivities of London 2024!
Over at the Barbican, where a scrappy show called Unravel told us things about textiles and social justice, at least nine exhibits had been removed, as the artists protested about “pro-Palestinian voices” being censored from a literary talks program. The ‘censorship’ came when an Indian writer was scheduled to give a talk entitled The Shoah After Gaza. The big question, of course, is how the London Review of Books, which was organising these talks, ever allowed such a title to appear on a program in the first place. Could anything be more inflammatory at this juncture in the Israel-Hamas conflict? As we edge towards a ceasefire and thousands of Israelis protest against Netanyahu, the last thing we need is more fuel for the flames.
The Barbican issued the usual grovelling apology and assured us how much they “respected” the artists’ granstanding decision to remove their works. They did not respect the audience, however, who got charged the same admission fee to see a mutilated show. It’s amazing to me that so few institutions have realised that if you don’t stand firm behind your original decision and begin issuing abject apologies, you have made a very big rod for your own back, now and into the future.
Although, like everyone, I’m completely horrified by what’s happening in Gaza, there is a real danger of knee-jerk Anti-Semitism becoming politically legitimised. On this trip I’ve spoken with Palestinians in Dubai and Riyadh, and with an Israel journalist in Shanghai. All agree that basic humanity has gone AWOL in this conflict. But it’s just as stupid to tar all Israelis as aggressors, as it is to identify all Palestinians as Hamas supporters. At this point, the contemporary art crowd has come down firmly on the Palestinian side, to the extent that acclaimed palestinian artist, Emily Jacir, can post a picture of an elderly Israeli hostage on social media, writing: “This captured settler looks happy. I hope they feed her a good Palestinian dish.”
Such a comment, which sets some new standard for insensitivity, should have seen Jacir roundly condemned. Instead, she’s being lauded by many reputable outlets as a heroic figure in these dark times. I dread to think what will be going down at the vernissage of the Venice Biennale, around the Israeli pavilion. It’s frightening that the radical oppositional tendencies of contemporary art should be willing to throw the most basic human decencies out the window.
As you can see, there is a lot to talk about… but enough is enough. with this post, I’m including the two most recent art columns, on Art Dubai 2024 and Art Basel Hong Kong 2024, and reviews of two excellent films, Perfect Days and Goodbye Julia. I’m still on the road, still trying to keep up with my commitments. The things I’ve seen and the conversations I’ve enjoyed, have been incredibly expansive, but I’m beginning to pine for my lounge room at home.
