Look at Moi

Yesterday I was listening to a program on  Radio National about selfies – those pictures you take of yourself and put up on Facebook. The discussion centred on whether it is OK to post images of oneself as one would like to be seen and whether attractive girls should be self-consciously aware that they are being looked at.

 It got me thinking: this has been a week of self-consciously aware phenomena.

It started with the new Pope. I really wasn’t that interested until I awoke early, turned on my radio, and heard the news that white smoke was billowing – and there was a seagull on the roof of the Vatican, obviously the commentators were getting restless. The buzz was still about who the new pontiff was and eventually when the announcement came it claimed victory for an Italian Cardinal. I read now that the Italian clergy were so dead sure of themselves that they had drafted and early press release and sent it out. 

When the hubbub settled and the TV cameras had panned over the boxes of waiting red shoes, lush red velvet capes and bejeweled vestments,  and  talk about the ceremony and the ritual had flagged, there he emerged in basic white, a wooden cross around his neck, and a greeting of simple good evening. 

Mmmm…what image of self being delivered here? 

Much has been written and talked about in the days following and we are yet to see whether the image of a simple Pope with a focus on social justice gets made over into the pompous head of the Catholic Church. And whether he will deal with the real issues that exist within a celibate, patriarchal,  clergy.  

I visited the Vatican some twenty years ago and the thing that  stunned me most was the Vatican Museums with  huge hand drawn and coloured maps of the new world, and  rooms of ceremonial garments designed and donated by the likes of Henri Matisse. So much wealth in such a confined space. As a child I had sacrificed pennies into cardboard mission boxes to help the starving in Africa. Couldn’t the Vatican have sold one single art work and relieved the suffering of all those unfortunate African babies I had been schooled to condescend to?

I’m house hunting. If there was ever a place where the manipulation of the image comes to the fore this is it. I have decided that the pictures and images that Real Estate Agents put up to sell houses are another version of selfies.  

Pictures are taken and posted at contortionist angles - there is no way I get the same view when I enter the so called elegant sitting room for real; peeling paint is non-evident as the pictures are taken too far away for detail to be seen; there are pictures of one or two enticing aspects of the property – flowers in bloom, a corner of a room with a nice window, and when you get there the rest of the place is a tip.  

Don’t get me started on the weasel words of agent speak like:

·         Cute- so tiny you cannot bring any of your current furniture and should start shopping for your new fit out in dolls house shops

·         Prepared for sale– we’ve only  just sprayed for fleas, so take this mask and hop about a little as you inspect the property

·         close to transport – the railway line runs by the back door and is the main route between the coal mines and the port

·         honest – has never been touched since it was built in 1940 – truly – you can see where the porch used to be.

·         spacious – room enough for two of you to be in the same room at the same time

·         renovator’s dream – don’t even consider it. Full of asbestos, needs rewiring, roof leaking, dry rot evident.

·         Can I help you?– How can I take the maximum amount of your money for the minimum amount of exertion and effort?

Most frustrating of all is the Open House phenomena and the arrival to find that either:

·         The  property has been sold in the 6 hours you have been driving in order to arrive on time for the inspection; or

·         The  property is listed at one price, but the owner wants $25 000 more than is recorded on the agents internet site.

So, I’m being careful of selfie images that are poked and prodded into a version of the object that I am meant to think is true.

I’ll stick with the artist and will rely on the upcoming selfies in the Archibald Prize exhibition where I know that what I am looking at is a manipulation – a likeness.  The artists make it clear that I am being deliberately led to see something other than the photographic surface of the image. And, as Pablo Picasso said when someone commented that his portrait of Gertrude Stein did not look like her:

  

In 50 years that’s how everyone will think she looked. 

 Now there's the self-conscious awareness I admire. 

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Art Work of the Week

Reinterpreting the visual and the literary landscape : The Devils's Marbels and Murray Bail's Eucalyptus.
Larger image can be viewed at thickerthanwater.com.au

Eucalyptus 3 Acrylic, wire, fishing flies on paper 320x280 mm