Category Archives: Diary

Peter Madden on creating sustainable cities

Peter Madden, Chief Executive of the UK not-for-profit organisation Forum for the Future, has just visited Australia for a series of public lectures. The main event has been his part in the Deakins – the Alfred Deakin Eco-Innovation Lectures, an initiative of the Victorian government – and I gather his Melbourne lectures were well publicised and will soon be up on the web. On his way home, he spent a couple of days in Sydney , and I went to his lecture, ‘Creating Sustainable Cities’, at UTS on Thursday night. Although it was technically public, this lecture seems to have been a well kept secret, advertised pretty much by word of mouth,  with notes on the UTS staff bulletin board and the Sydney Cyclist web site. As far as I’ve seen it went unnoticed by the press. And you thought sustainability was a hot subject!

Forum for the Future was founded roughly 13 years ago by to members of the Green Movement in Britain who realised that Greens seemed to spend most of their time protesting – their activities had a predominantly negative feel to them. They decided to organise on a positive footing, and the Forum was the result. It has been working with business and government to persuade them to take environmentally responsible initiatives, and show them how.  The opening slide of the lecture showed the logos of maybe a hundred organisations that have worked with Forum for the Future. The idea is to help them think through ways to change their practices in response to climate change – to reduce their own carbon footprints and then to make their activities benign rather than destructive in relation to the environment.

I won’t try to summarise the lecture, but I have two thoughts to inflict on you.

The level of public conversation about climate change is very different in Britain from the one here. Prominent Australian politicians proudly declare themselves to be climate sceptics, failing to realise that the science of climate change is based on systematic scepticism and that they are actually identifying as denialists, and debate often gets bogged down there, pretty much at kindergarten level. Meanwhile the question of whether to pass the tokenistic CPRS legislation gets to be seen as the be-all and end-all, with Kevin and Penny saying, either disingenuously or idiotically,  that since they’re being criticised from both left and right they must have it about right. That is to say, climate change is hardly treated seriously at all, for all the lip service it’s given. In Britain the conservative opposition has more far-reaching policies about climate change than the Labour government, and there are significant commitments from Government – for example, by 2015 to have every new house built be carbon neutral.

Peter Madden guesses that the issue is taken seriously in the UK because so many of the leading climate change scientists are British , and speak with authority. It strikes me that the reason the science is treated with such disregard here is a legacy of the Howard years: just as the Howard government dismantled ATSIC and deprived Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders of a national voice, it also set about discrediting CSIRO, once looked to as a reliable source of information on scientific matters, now able to be dismissed by the likes of Nick Minchin, along with the vast majority of climate scientists, as left wing propagandists.

The other thought, more or less unconnected, is that greenies fail to communicate their message because they/we fail to listen. According to Peter Madden a recent study shows that green activists tend to have a weird and atypical psychological make-up, in which abstract, altruistic concerns rate high. Their/our attempts to communicate often come off sounding like preaching or even haranguing. What he and the Forum for the Future try to do is reframe the conversation in the positive: here’s a major problem we’re all facing, and here are some ideas for how we can address them. Business can do this thing and still be profitable. Governments and do that thing and still be re-elected. Individuals can do the other thing and still live well. So Tesco, the huge, many would say rapacious, supermaket chain, has a green strategy with teeth; the NHS is exploring ways to reduce its carbon footprint and at the same time deliver health services more intelligently.

About individual action to reduce carbon footprint, he said you could cut through a lot of the agonising over details by addressing these key questions:

1. What forms of transport do you use?
2. Where do you go for holidays?
3. How much red meat and dairy do you eat?
4. How do you heat or cool your home?

I’m sorry the audience for this lecture was so small, mainly because it gave a glimpse of possibilities. During question time, one man evidently a green activist, asked Peter to talk about bullshit moments – that is to say, moments when he realised that he was listening to someone talk about their green credentials in a completely disingenuous way. Peter did mention a bottled water company who claimed to be carbon neutral – the Forum had refused to work with them because bottled water is an environmental disaster, end of story. But he was adamant that while almost none of the companies he worked with could claim to be completely clean, they were all going on a journey. Even in the most profit-motivated corporations, there are people who, given half a chance, will have a go at sustainability.

A cool invitation?

A tantalisingly misshapen envelope arrived in our mailbox today, and it turned out to contain an invitation to a party.

SYD NYEClick to see bigger.

In case you can’t read it, it’s to  a New Year’s Eve party on the Western Boardwalk of the Sydney Opera House, offering ‘a combination of the finest gastronomy and mixology, international entertainment, iconic venue and location’.

How fabulous, I thought. One of our really influential friends must have got us onto the guest list. As a non-drinker I’d even put up with all those expensively tipsy people for the sake of the sheer exclusivity of it.

But then I reached the bottom of the page.

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Oh, it’s not an invitation at all. It’s trying to sell something. Let’s see, is this the way I want to spend $895? Before the obvious answer could settle in my mind, I saw the very tiny type at the bottom

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Yes, not only would I have to give the Opera House $895 to accept this ‘invitation’, but I’d have to pay between $5 and $8.50 for the privilege

In that case, I thought, they can keep their mixologies.

You know you’re getting old when …

… someone who was in your son’s class at school is appointed artistic director of a major cultural institution.

Congratulations, Ralph!

Our new painting

We really really couldn’t afford this. It’s Valley, by Carol Ruff, perhaps it should be rechristened Folie (à deux)

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But here it is on our wall, making the endorphins flow:

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Sculpture by the Sea

It’s that time of year again in Sydney. The jacarandas are in bloom, the first cicadas are shockingly loud, the weather lurches from chilly to sweltering from one day to the next, and the cliffs between Bondi to Tamarama have become a sculpture gallery. Richard Tulloch has already reported, with fabulous photos, on this year’s Sculpture by the Sea, but that’s no reason for me not to tell you, again, what I saw there, and post an album of phone photos (yes, we forgot to take a camera).

We went this afternoon to avoid the weekend crush. It was far from crowded – the joggers were hardly inconvenienced at all.

As I’m writing the captions for those blurry, poorly composed photos I realise that I could have spent much longer on that walk. For instance, there’s a brightly coloured little house that I’m told has nasty surprises inside, but I couldn’t get anywhere near it because it was full to bursting with children who had been so charmed by the outside that whatever was on the inside made no apparent impression at all. I could have sat with some of the delicately moving pieces for a long time. There were one or two pieces positioned so as to take the walker by surprise. Perhaps I’ll go back to savour them a little.

The sculptures will be there until 15 November.

White Rabbit and Menagerie

This afternoon we visited the White Rabbit Gallery in Chippendale, and then went on to Object Gallery to see their part of the exhibition Menagerie.

The White Rabbit Gallery has been open for exactly three months. In a converted Chippendale warehouse, a couple of very rich Sydneyites have set up a space to share with the public their collection of contemporary Chinese art. Admission is free, and gallery staff members are on hand on all four floors to answer questions, point out things you might have missed, offer a word or two about the biography of the artist. From the meticulously shredded Mao suits of Sun Furong’s Tomb Figures, through the spectacular trompe-l’oeuil draughtsmanship of Ma Yanling’s four images of opera singers, to Chen Wen-Ling’s over-the-top sculptures (guaranteed to make a pig-lover smile, and maybe even a pig-hater) this gallery is fabulous. Thanks, Judith and Kerr Nielson.

Menagerie: Contemporary Indigenous Sculpture is, according to the Australian Museum web site, ‘a groundbreaking exhibition featuring animal sculptures by 33 established and emerging Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander artists’. Part of it is at the Museum, part at the Object Gallery up the hill (The site uses flash but irritating Flash: click on Explore on the side and you’ll get details of this exhibition). We’ve yet to visit the former. The latter occupies the single room of the Main Gallery, with a 20 minute video on six of the artists playing on a loop in the small upstairs space. It’s magic. I particularly loved ‘Red, White and Blue’ by Danie Mellor. This consists of three kangaroos, about a metre high, with front paws covering respectively mouth, eyes and ears. They’re made of mosaic tiles (respectively red-patterned, white and blue-patterned), except for their paws and ears, which are made of kangaroo skin, creating the impression that living animals have been encased in unyielding shells made from the detritus of settler society. They’re beautiful, poignant, and made by a man of Mamu heritage (I was born in Mamu country). I just googled Danie Mellor and found out that he won the Telstra Aboriginal Art Award this year, and that he had a solo exhibition at Elizabeth Bay that closed yesterday. I have terrible timing.

The White Rabbit exhibition stays up until January, when it is replaced by other contemporary Chinese works from Judith Nielson’s collection. Menagerie closes on 15 November.

Me and Larry

Several of my younger relatives insist that Larry David and I are lookalikes. You be the judge.

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Wa modern

As the Japan Foundation web site says:

Wa Modern is a blend of cherished traditional Japanese crafts (floral arrangement, ceramics and calligraphy) presented as one. For a limited time only from 9–16 October, floral artist Setsuko Yanagisawa, ceramist Malcolm Greenwood and calligraphy artist Ren Yano come together in their first mixed media collaboration at the Japan Foundation Gallery.

We trotted off to Chifley Square this afternoon. Really, it’s a brilliant exhibition, and exactly as advertised the three crafts speak to each other and with each other in wonderful harmony. The flower arrangements are based in ikebana and use Australian plants. The pottery could have been created for these arrangements. The calligraphy, to my completely uneducated eye, seemed to have taken liberties with tradition, to be looser, more relaxed, more – possibly – Australianish.

As we were leaving the young woman at the front desk asked if I’d taken any photos, and when I said I hadn’t told me I should come back with a camera. So I whipped out my phone for a couple of parting snaps.

Some dramatic waratahs:

Waratahs

A big arrangement. You can’t really see it in the photo, but those poppies appear to be standing in a shallow pool of water on the shell-like pottery dish, defying gravity. Looking closer, one sees that the poppy stems are actually supported by being pierced by thorns on the branch that lies across the dish

alcove

The exhibition is open all week. I recommend it.

Small talk

I’ve mentioned before here that I like to read while walking around my suburb – actually, while walking round whatever suburb, or urbs, I happen to be in. One of the incidental pleasures of this practice is the micro-conversations it engenders.

The most common opening gambit is, ‘Must be a good book.’ Sometimes there’s an edge of reprimand in this, as in, ‘It would have to be a bloody good book to make me – or any normal person – read it like that.’ Other times, it’s quite benign: if Bob Thiele and George Weiss were right that friends shaking hands saying, ‘How do you do,’ are really saying ‘I love you,’ then people making this comment are really saying, ‘I notice you’re doing something unusual/making the environment slightly more interesting.’

The other common remark, though it trails a long way behind the first, is, ‘Careful you don’t walk into a post/tree/branch.’

I try to respond with something friendly and amusing, an equivalent of ‘Thank you for commenting’. My fallback is something like, ‘Have to get the reading done some time.’

A very few people scope out the book as we approach each other and make a book-specific comment: ‘Is that any good? I’ve had it beside my bed for a while.’  ‘Has he done that well?’ ‘You must be an academic, reading Heat.’

Yesterday, a friend coming up Booth Street laughed when she saw me, and said, by way of explaining her laughter: ‘You look so ancient. So untechnological.’ I had no comeback.

Opening

We own a painting by Sydney artist Carol Ruff – a landscape, featuring a single almost symmetrical, almost bare hill. It’s hard to say why, but I just love it. I can sit and look at it for a long time and not be bored. Some time ago we were invited to an opening of Desert Air, an exhibition of Carol’s work alongside that of her partner Greg Weight, but when we got there the crowd spilling out onto the footpath outside the gallery was so thick we turned around and went straight home. Tonight another dual exhibition was opening, Love Creek Bitter Springs, made up like the other of work created during trips to the MacDonnell Ranges in the Northern Territory. Learning from past experience, we turned up at the Australian Galleries in Paddington an hour early and left before the first glass of anything was poured.

It’s a fabulous exhibition. Both Penny and I fell in love with one landscape in particular, much bigger and more elaborate than our little hill, but with the same mesmeric power:

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There is much else that’s stunningly beautiful. I want to mention a set of photographs, described in the gallery’s list as created jointly by Carol and Greg, but most of them featuring Carol, indoors and out, in the same country that features in the paintings and photographs elsewhere in the exhibition, presumably with Greg behind the camera. The list introduces the set with a quote from Barry Lopez: ‘In the end, there’s little difference between growing into the love of a place and growing into the love of a person.’ Somehow this sharply personal note brought home to me the obvious fact that the whole exhibition is a work of love.