Kerry’s Visit to Heath at the Archibald
A Photo-Essay
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I make the short five-minute drive from my home and park in Goulburn Street, at the southern end of Sydney’s Central Business District. I walk northward up the Elizabeth Street hill and enter Hyde Park at the corner of Elizabeth & Liverpool Streets.
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I walk northward along Hyde Park’s central avenue, bordered by towering Moreton Bay fig trees.
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I come to the Archibald Fountain, named after the same Jules Francois (John Feltham) Archibald, after whom the Archibald Prize is also named. I’ve loved this fountain since childhood, with its beautiful statues inspired by classical mythology. This photo shows Apollo with his lyre and Diana with her bow.
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One of my favourite sculptures comprising the Archibald Fountain’s statuary is this dramatic depiction of Theseus slaying the Minotaur. St Mary’s Cathedral can be seen in the background.
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I exit Hyde Park, cross College Street, pass by St Mary’s Cathedral and enter the Domain, with its impeccably manicured gardens, via Art Gallery Road. A statue of Robbie Burns can be seen on the right (scroll over --->).
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As I follow the gentle curve of Art Gallery Road, I eventually glimpse the Art Gallery of New South Wales through the trees in the near distance. The grand, neo-classical, western portico, with its towering Ionic columns, is clearly visible in this photo. If I were to continue walking along Art Gallery Road, I would, in time, come to the highly ornate entrance gates leading to the Royal Botanical Gardens and Sydney Harbour.
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The gallery’s entrance is flanked by two enormous equestrian statues, also much loved by me since childhood. This one is titled, “The Offerings of War.” To give you an idea of their size, I am just under 6ft in height and the top of my head comes to that horse’s hoof!
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And so, I climb the steps and enter the gallery’s main vestibule.
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Once inside, I am advised by an attendant that I am unable to take photo’s of the paintings in the Archibald exhibition. The reason given is that, “The paintings in the Archibald exhibition are owned by each individual artist, not by the gallery.” I must appear disappointed, because the attendant seems to take sympathy on me and adds, “You can take photo’s anywhere else in the public areas of the gallery, just not in the Archibald exhibition, but please don’t use flash.” I’m not really disappointed because I already have a beautiful copy of the painting I’ve come to see, thanks to the Internet. In fact, I have copies of all the paintings in the Archibald exhibition, which I am happy to share with you, via the official Art Gallery of NSW website:
http://www.thearchibaldprize.com.au/finalists/archibald
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After an enjoyable couple of hours of escapism, I leave the gallery and walk back along Art Gallery Road, from whence I came; back, alas, to the world of cold hard reality.
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And so, back through the Domain’s great southern gates, and I’ll soon be back at my car and home again, after a most enjoyable visit to “Heath” (the portrait by Vincent Fantauzzo) at the Archibald.
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Thank you, Mr Archibald!
The End
My most vivid memory of Sydney is of the white parrots in the trees.
They are Sulphur Crested Cockatoos, Clarissa. They're as big as hens and are very noisy, aggressive, bad tempered birds. Flocks of them regularly fly past my window, squawking loudly. They look nice but sound terrible. They make a terrible din.
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Thank you Penthesilea and MaineWriter!
That photo gives a very good idea of how large the canvas is.
I personally don't agree that big = best when it comes to fine art. :-\
For example, take a look at the hideous monstrosity that won the Archibald this year:
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Even the title is an over-winded, pretentious wank - "You are what is most beautiful about me, a self portrait with Kell and Arella." Yetch! :P
By comparison, Vincent Fantauzzo's painting is succinctly titled "Heath." :)
Kerry's Second Visit to Heath
at the Archibald
It may be necessary to scroll over ------>
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I again park in Goulburn Street and walk up the Elizabeth Street hill towards Sydney's Central Business District. Instead of cutting across Hyde Park towards the Art Gallery of New South Wales, however, this time I continue walking north along Elizabeth Street, keeping Hyde Park on my right. I walk past Sydney's Great Synagogue and come to the intersection of King & Elizabeth Streets. This is a view looking westward down King Street. The canopy outside the Theatre Royal can be seen on the right, in between the second and third "Phantom of the Opera" banners
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I come to the intersection of Elizabeth Street and Martin Place, located in the very heart of Sydney's Central Business District. Directly ahead of me, Elizabeth Street continues along its circuitous route, ultimately leading to Sydney Harbour. I have a 2 p.m. appointment with my superannuation fund manager in George Street, so will turn left into Martin Place here.
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Castlereagh Street
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Martin Place with the bell tower of the old General Post Office building (now the Westin Hotel) on the left. It's autumn here in Australia and lots of the trees have lost their leaves.
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I stop to admire the statue of Queen Victoria above the main entrance of the old General Post Office building in Martin Place. She has cherubim above her head and sitting at left is Britania in her helmet. There is an unidentified goddess holding a cornucopia of plenty at right. Beneath that is the rampant lion and unicorn of the British Empire.
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I meet with my superannuation fund manager and retrace my footsteps up Martin Place towards Macquarie Street and thence to the Art Gallery of New South Wales, where Heath awaits.
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It was very crowded when last I visited Heath, but there aren't a lot of people at the gallery today. This time I can walk right up to Heath's face and look him straight in the eyes. He looks fixedly back at me with determination and enormous saddness. On my last visit, I hadn't appreciated how very sad Heath's eyes are in this painting, probably because I wasn't able to get so close to the portrait last time, with all the people milling about (the exhibition had just opened). I view the other portraits in the Archibald but keep coming back to Heath over and over again. I am fixated by the melancholic expression of sad resignation in his beautiful, warm brown eyes. I lean in close. I see the freckles on his nose. His full, moist, sensuous lips. His pretty eyebrows. His soft flowing hair. The tatoos. The "Matilda" tatoo. I experience an overpowering feeling of pathos and remorse and I start to cry. I'm crying, standing right there in the middle of that public gallery. Not noisy sobs, but there are tears. I feel overcome with grief. A young woman comes and stands near me. She stands quite closely alongside me. I suspect she may have seen my tears and has come over to give me comfort. I get very strong, sympathetic vibes from her. I return to Heath several times before reluctantly departing the gallery.
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As I depart the gallery via the western portico, I look across the Domain, through the trees, to the skyscrapers of the city beyond, with the setting sun illuminating the sky behind them.
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With heavy heart, I trudge back to my car. Along the way, I pass by the great statue of Queen Victoria located outside the High Court in Macquarie Street.
From TIME magazine 26 May 2008 edition:
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