Sprouting wings

An Australian king-parrot (Alisterus scapularis), Rainbow lorikeet (Trichoglossus moluccanus), and Little penguin (Eudyptula minor) from Prattle scoop trembling: a flutter of Australian birds

Three new zines

Duck in, duck out; Dove, love, wash; and Flippered and flightless are three new zines by Louise, each an edition of 100, in the tradition of Seasonal Museum Sketches (2016) and Whoot-woo (2015).

All three new titles can be purchased through our online store, which has had a little overhaul of late.

Louise Jennison, Duck in, duck out, 2017, printed zine

Milly Sleeping: Quick Interview with Gracia Haby of Gracia & Louise

Our final interview for the holiday period evolved into a 'true or false' quiz for Melbourne-based artists Gracia Haby and Louise Jennison, AKA Gracia & Louise. Together and independently (but most often together, and most often with a four-legged friend or two), G + L are very prolific makers, doers, dreamers — delightful to follow on the gram. Kind thanks to Gracia for taking the time to write, and to both she and Louise — for always being willing partners to our projects and flights of fancy.

Installing our artists' book, Prattle, scoop, trembling: a flutter of Australian birds, at MPRG

Thank-you for the dance

Recently landed: Thank-you for the dance, a new article on Marginalia (by Gracia) takes a look back at dance performances seen in 2016, especially for Fjord Review

The Australian Ballet's Kevin Jackson performing in John Neumeier's Nijinsky (image credit: Kate Longley)

To see

The Solander box for our artists' book, Prattle, scoop, trembling: a flutter of Australian birds, and accompanying collage, An index box of Australian birds still fluttering, are now back on display within a perspex aviary at Mornington Peninsula Regional Gallery, as part of their exhibition, Birds: Flight paths in Australian Art.

The exhibition at MPRG runs until the 12th of February, 2017.

And in the lead up to Christmas, you can see our Here, there drawings and collages upon cartes de visite at Port Jackson Press Print Gallery, where you will also find our work on the wall as part of Proof: The Best of Contemporary Print Making.

The exhibition at PJP runs until the 23rd of December, 2016.

Swing Time

Recently landed: Swing Time, Gracia's look back at 2016 for Fjord Review

I grew up watching Lucky and Penny spin about the dance floor. I knew their every line, and, more importantly, their every move, and their every move’s lines. Studied on a Beta video and later a VHS, their moving forms were so familiar to me. And perhaps through my repeated viewings I’d hoped for some sort of talent transference through the screen to me lying in Cobra on the floor, my chin resting in my hands. Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, as John ‘Lucky’ Garnett and Penelope ‘Penny’ Carrol, in George Stevens’ Swing Time (1936), were my idols in Primary School. They were natural and joyous to watch when they danced, and it was for the dance that I watched Swing Time.

They knew how to move and glide, and were utterly in tune with the other. Their mutual delight drew me in. They danced for the audience, and for each other, and at the end of each number they appeared to share a look of mutual respect that was outside of their characters, a sort of private yet public ‘thank-you for the dance; you were great.’ Thanks to Astaire’s insistence that all dance pieces should be filmed in as close to a single take as possible, with the whole of the figure visible, the effect now, as was then, is just like watching a live performance. The figure uninterrupted is free to tell its truth. Jean-Luc Godard would later echo this unbroken line sentiment in his films: “the cinema is truth 24 times a second, and every cut is a lie.”

Watching Swing Time, or indeed any Fred and Ginger film, it feels entirely plausible that dance numbers should spontaneously spark into being. That’s how people communicate. It all makes sense. All you need is a body, and we’ve all one of those. Though some, why, some can move with grace and rhythm as they speak their truth. As Martha Graham advised (and we’d all do well to adhere to): “there is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action [when you dance/make/do], and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open.”

And so, as I sit now before the keyboard looking back over what I have seen this year, the pieces I recall are those that conveyed honesty and “an energy.” Unfeigned, full-hearted, call it what you will. With my eye, Godard’s camera, my life coach, Graham, and the effortless hover and charm of Lucky and Penny only in dream, let’s look back at 2016.

Tanztheater Wuppertal Pina Bausch performing Nelken at the Adelaide Festival (Image credit: Tony Lewis)

Radiowaves and ink

Little penguins, emus, and lorikeets! We've been talking about Prattle, scoop, trembling: a flutter of Australian birds on the radio, fleetingly, sheepishly.

You can hear us prattling and chirruping,
In conversation with Sara Savage, Parallel Lines, RRR, Wednesday 7th of December, 2016
and
In conversation with Stefanie Kechayas, Arts Weekly, 3MBS, Saturday 26th of November, 2016

And in print,
'The Inner Heartbreak of Birds is Revealed by Flight Paths in Australian Art,' Financial Review, Saturday 25th of November, 2016

With Alicia and Michael (The Light Between Oceans), Cary and Deborah (An Affair to Remember), Leo and Kate (Titanic), Olive spots our collage, Underneath Soane's 'star-fish' ceiling, the library at No. 12 proved anything but quiet, in the Australian Financial Review

With Alicia and Michael (The Light Between Oceans), Cary and Deborah (An Affair to Remember), Leo and Kate (Titanic), Olive spots our collage, Underneath Soane's 'star-fish' ceiling, the library at No. 12 proved anything but quiet, in the Australian Financial Review

Within a museum; within a gallery

Recently landed: Within a museum; within a gallery, a new article on Marginalia (by Gracia) takes you behind-the-scenes in the gallery

Installing our artists' book, Prattle, scoop, trembling: a flutter of Australian birds, at MPRG

Fabrication

Recently landed: Fabrication, Gracia's written response to Matthew Day's Assemblage #1, for Fjord Review

Any time between 3pm and 6pm. That was the deal. Any time within a window. And with freedom to explore. Come and go, as you please. The doors will be left open. Take photos, should you choose. Inhabit the space as you would a public area. Like a park, say. Be a living part of an assemblage. Move within the space. Walk through to the library. Squat beneath the window, recline on the slope, lean against the wall, perch on the ledge just inside the door: it’s up to you. Come, stay, and go, as you please, the invitation stood. 

When only recently I thought how I would like to have experienced Ashley Dyer’s
Tremor (at Arts House) as a durational piece, with the chance to select my own vantage, here was my chance to experience a new work by Dancehouse artist-in-residence, Matthew Day. Assemblage #1 was my chance to encounter dance as I do art, to treat the performance as I would a painting, installation, sculpture, readymade, or a Fluxus box of matches.1 And yet rather unsurprisingly, I conformed to theatre standards. 

I arrived just before 3pm. I arrived for the start of a work with no real start. And I was not alone. In the foyer on a quiet Saturday afternoon, a small knot of people waited for the dance to begin. As I collected my tickets from the box office/bar, Day was at the sink getting a glass of water. Upon seeing the waiting spectators, I wondered if he was disappointed by our collective missed opportunity to enter a theatre-cum-gallery and wonder: what did I miss? What happened before? Has the dancer been here all day? Will the dancer leave? Is this art? Is this dance? Is there a difference? And does it matter?

Matthew Day's Assemblage #1 at Dancehouse (Image credit: Gregory Lorenzutti)

A gleam in the darkling world

Recently landed: A gleam in the darkling world, a new article on Marginalia (by Gracia) places Prattle scoop trembling: a flutter of Australian birds in the gallery

Prattle, scoop, trembling: a flutter of Australian birds

We are looking forward to installing our artists' book, Prattle, scoop, trembling: a flutter of Australian birds upon the shelves and plinths of Mornington Peninsula Regional Gallery as part of their exhibition, Birds: Flight Paths in Australian Art, which runs until the 12th of February, 2017.

Follow the process
#PrattleScoopTrembling

A female Magnificent riflebird (Ptiloris magnificus) from our most recent artists' book, Prattle, scoop, trembling: a flutter of Australian birds

In the library, a herd of Superb fairy-wrens

Recently landed: In the library, a herd of Superb fairy-wrens, a new article on Marginalia (by Gracia) calls Prattle scoop trembling: a flutter of Australian birds all done and dusted

Fifty pages, all at once, our birds in the State Library of Victoria