Magic moment ends family time

LOOKING FOR COLIN: Granddaughter Juliet at Wellington Art Gallery.

MIKE: On our return from Wellington last week, shortly after Bulls, the bus turned sharp right towards Marton. It was 6.30pm and it provided us with a magic moment. At eye level was a huge moon - absolutely full, bright orange, standing proudly over a few scudding clouds. It really was, in the correct meaning of that trivialised epithet, quite awesome. A heart-warming conclusion to a fortnight of special family time, starting in Sydney and continuing in Canberra. We love both cities, with their obvious contrasts - the bustle and busyness of the former, as opposed to Canberra's feel of a large country town.

Strolling along Circular Quay, past the amazing Opera House and into the Botanic Gardens is always a genuine pleasure. Resembling the sails of yachts, sea shells, the helmets of conquistadors or whatever else you may see in it, the roof of the Opera House is a wonderful construction. Gazing at it from a seat in the Botanics, which always seem tranquil despite the passage of walkers, joggers and cyclists, amply repays a few minutes of quiet contemplation. We had lunch on the terrace of the Museum of Contemporary Art, the Opera House visible above the cafe's low parapet. It felt surreal. (If you find this a tad hyperbolic, my apologies, but I just love that building!)

One of the galleries at the MCA contained an exhibition by Kader Attia titled J'Accuse - 2016. A highly-rated French artist, Attia received the Prix Marcel Duchamp in 2016, France's highest art award. The work in the MCA consisted of 30 wooden busts, made from teak and axe-formed, placed on upright metal stands. Most of these busts had ears or nose hacked off, or features mutilated. All were facing a video screen which was playing a somewhat horrific film of statues coming to life, bodies rising from the earth, skulls grinning, skeletons shuffling forwards - the result being panic in the crowds witnessing these supernatural events. Strong martial music provided a soundtrack, with a commentary in French. This was the artist's way of showing his concern for the cruelty and suffering he sees in our world. He had taken the video extract from Abel Gance's film J'Accuse, which was made twice, firstly in 1919 as a response to the carnage and horrors of World War I, then again in 1938, in anticipation of World War II. Such sobering prescience! Despite 80 years between them, both men were obviously tormented about the inhumanity they saw around them.
My Canberra experiences will follow next week.

JOAN: Mike and I have travelled widely over the last 14 years and are very grateful to have been able to do so. We have owned and loved two dogs over that time - the late Sadie and the lovely Zoe. When we were away, we were able to leave both Bichons in the tender, loving care of our dog minder and dearest friend Tess Hoskin. Recommended to us by others who had relied on her to mind their dogs, Tess was a marvellous lady to leave both house and animal with. Over the years, she became a very dear person in our lives and a wonderful friend. Tess died last week . She leaves a huge gap and we shall miss her terribly. Our dogs adored her and so did we. She was one of the kindest, most generous and loving people that we have known over our long time in Whanganui. She epitomised all the good things that make our city special. She had been a loving partner to Alan and a devoted mother and nana. We shared many happy afternoons talking together, our dog on her knee and we loved her sense of humour and generosity of spirit. Tess never came to see us without a small gift of baking, bottling or books and always a treat for Sadie or Zoe. On the day of her funeral, which we were honoured to be invited to attend along with her beloved family, Zoe went backwards and forwards to the front door and I am sure she knew why we were grieving. Thank you, Tess, for all your kindness and affection. God speed.

JOAN: We spent a couple of days with family in Wellington on the way back from Canberra. It was great to spend time with "the littlies", our two small grandchildren. We enjoyed a performance in Johnsonville Mall by Paul Bates, a friend from way back, as Zappo the Magician. All children adore him and our two are no exception. They were gobsmacked to see that Zappo knew Granny and gazed, open-mouthed, as Paul, Mike and I chatted.

I managed a quick visit to the Art Gallery to glimpse a Colin McCahon exhibition. Gathered from all over the country, the paintings were all linked by their Maori theme. I could have spent a very long time absorbing them. However, granddaughter Juliet was in attendance. She inquired who we were going to see in this large room and I replied that it was Colin. So In front of every work she asked, "Is Colin in there?" When she couldn't find him she dragged me to the next large canvas, eventually getting annoyed at his non-appearance! She did, however, say she liked the paintings and hoped that Granny did too!

MIKE: Back to our own art scene, I viewed two exhibitions last weekend - Scott McFarlane's at the Milbank Gallery and Graham Hall's at Space, both interesting and completely different. In the work of the former artist, the colours, for the most part, are varying shades of earthy browns and greys, the occasional orange or yellow being subdued to preserve the overall atmosphere. "Autumnal tones" was a phrase suggested by a friend. These oil paintings, on board or canvas, produce an eerie, yet compelling sensation. Figures appear in different shapes and guises, some human, some animal, some indeterminate. With their vague, nebulous inhabitants, the paintings demand full employment of the imagination. I could see futuristic scenes, lunar landscapes, wastelands, elements of Hieronymus Bosch, unreality - a plethora of mental stimuli. Should art encourage the viewer to pause, think, reflect? If so, this exhibition succeeds admirably.

Graham Hall's Handscapes at Space is far easier to understand. A dozen or so multi-block woodcuts in black and white explore the complex links between people and the environment. As the artist's statement puts it, "Human relationship with the landscape is one of constant change". The works display different features of the countryside around Whanganui, noted during Graham's outings on his bike. Above the land, on each woodcut, hovers a giant hand, allowing free rein for the artist's adaptation of everyday phrases such as "heavy hand", "handhold", "handover" and the delicate "hand bell", a reference to an item used by his grandmother. In several of the works, the creases and folds of the land reminded me vividly of the Paraparas, which, when I first saw them 40 years ago, seemed to resemble a huge swathe of crushed velvet. I found the prints, which come in editions of 10, extremely attractive, easy on the eye and, for would-be purchasers, very reasonably priced. This exhibition continues until July 28.

Suggestions and comments to mjstreet@xtra.co.nz