Growing Up Awkward

What do the following images have in common?

If you answered 'they are funny', you're half right.

If you answered 'they are funny and they are awkward', you're getting closer.

If you answered 'they are funny because they are awkward', you are bang on the money.

Yet it seems to me that this whole 'laughing at that awkward thing that just happened' is a rather new phenomenon. I clearly remember watching Napoleon Dynamite for the first time: though I was laughing hysterically, I felt inCREDibly uncomfortable watching all this awkwardness on telly.

Why uncomfortable? Because I felt manipulated by the film to laugh at a 'character' rather than at a 'situation'. Napoleon was like the weird kid at school, and viewing the movie made me like the bully. By positioning the audience in this manner the final dance scene becomes a triumph over the viewer and oppositional characters alike.

This movie proves that you and I are a bunch of jerks, showing that all along you've been complicit in laughing at this kid, who is evidently cooler and hipper than we could ever hope to be. Those dance moves own all over anything you have ever done. That thesis you just finished? Rubbish. Your ability to translate French? Worthless. Your recent foray into pussy-bow blouses? Lame. Unless of course you're rocking that shirt with some sick Jamiroquai dance moves.

So today, while I was meant to be studying International Marketing for a terribly scary exam on Friday (50%?!), I instead thought about why we find things funny. Some of the most brilliant internet memes of the moment (should I say mement? No... no I shouldn't) centre around these amazingly awkward situations. Think fmylife, think failblog.org, think awkward family photos. Each more painful and hilarious than the last. From 'Flight of the Conchords, there's Mel's vlog. And of course Arrested Development: Gob is a genius, brilliant, shining example of the 'awkward funny'.

Traditionally, 'satire' is used to "ridicule, expose and criticise people's stupidity or vices". However, it is only considered truly satirical if this humour is targeted at an individual in a position of power. Humour is the great leveller, able to stump politicians and mock the powerful, as in this image by W. Heath, "Waist and Extravagance", which ridicules the fashion of circa 1830 (a topical image for you all, I'm sure).

However, these awkward-funny moments and situations are not aimed at powerful figures of society. Indeed, it is the teenage kid, the unemployed magician, the anonymous working drone, and the unfashionable mullet/handle-bar mo bearer who now cops the brunt of our jokes. 

If indeed it is the least empowered individuals who are now our laughing stock, is this humour still satirical, and more importantly, ethical? And what does this reveal about contemporary human nature, that we feel that laughing at the underdog is not only culturally acceptable but entertaining? Is this a new form of humour? Have awkward situations always seemed this hilarious? Or is popular culture highlighting a malicious and hurtful aspect of our individual personalities? 

Oh, heck, this is just too hilarious for words OR analysis!

Roflcopter.

Love love,

Centine.

Intensely Dutch

Being both a pompous art fool and a fierce supporter slash citizen of the Netherlands, there was no way I was going to miss the "Intensely Dutch" exhibition at the Gallery of New South Wales. To Dutch-ify the whole experience, I took along my very Dutch mother. Dutch Dutch Dutch.

Featuring the works of Karel Appel, Constant and Corneille, this exhibition featured some absolutely lovely Avant-Garde pieces. Belonging to the school of CoBrA - named so after the places of origin of the movements key players (Copenhagen, Brussels and Amsterdam) - these works are colourful, lively, playful and intoxicating. Now I don't really know all that much technical stuff about art, but these paintings are so much fun.

Left, Constant 'The Animal Sorcerer'. right, Karel Appel 'Ontmoeting'

(Unsure. Corneille, I think. If you have any clues, drop me a line. xoxo)

From my limited internet research, it appears that the movement was first generated as a response to earlier censorship by Nazi Germany during the occupation. However, I don't feel any anger or exasperation from these pieces. I'd like to think that these artists were painting "despite" any censorship, rather than in "opposition"; that the optimism radiating from these works are indicative of the artist's general temperament rather than as a reactive measure. Hendrik Kolenberg, the curator of the Gallery of New South Wales, describes this personality trait as a characteristic of the Dutch people in general:

"The Dutch are a funny lot. They're very much about individuality and embracing what you want to do without fear. The Dutch have had to contend with the sea - if they don't hold it back whole towns would disappear. That's where the Dutch sense of optimism comes from, I think." http://www.timeoutsydney.com.au/arts/event/intensely-dutch.aspx

And though I thoroughly enjoyed this exhibition, I found it very odd how they set up the space. Included within the exhibition were artists such as Willem de Kooning, Bram Bogart and Gerrit Benner - all fore runners and major influences on the CoBrA artists. However, instead of placing the works chronologically, and thereby tracing the development of Dutch art and characteristics through time, the exhibition opens with Karel Appel, and works backwards. Rather than seeing a development, it now comes across as something of a (forgive me for this) regression. 

Gerrit Benner, 'Fries Landschap')

(Willem de Kooning, 'Two Trees on Mary Street... Amen!')

Not that I don't like these artists. (Too many negatives?) It is clear that these works are significant and beautiful in their own right. I simply feel that instead of seeing how the ideas are built upon over time, the exhibition shows a distinct change of pace. We begin in the excitement and splendour of CoBrA and work backwards into a more sombre world view. In my mind, art and culture should always be progressing and looking forward, anticipating the next development. And I feel that Intensely Dutch, as Intensely Good and Enjoyable as it is, tends to present the exact opposite.

This exhibition is on until the 23rd of August.

And it is awesome.

Love love,

Centine.

xoxoxo

Outback Spectrum

Embarrassing confession: today I spent over 3 hours at Outback Steakhouse, chilling with my home-girl Jac. For some reason, the feng shui of my previous place of employment was so perfect that we bought a paper and read it cover to cover and worked on cross-words and sudokus. Though not successfully. Not a single puzzle was completed.

In the Spectrum section of the paper, I found a rather confronting article. According to Richard Flanagan, the Australian publishing industry is facing something of a crises. 

"Bookselling in America, like Australia, runs on a consignment system. Where it differs is that return rates there are typically 50 per cent. These returned, unsold books are generally pulped or remaindered - sold off for one or two dollars, the author receiving no payment. Under this proposal these returned books will now be able to be dumped on the Australian market like Italian canned tomatoes.

Thus even a hugely successful Tim Winton novel - a book that enables his publisher here, Penguin Australia, to nurture new Australian writers of talent - could end up in Australian remainder bins. A dumped US hardback of Breath would be far cheaper than an Australian paperback, but with no royalty payable to the author and no profit to their Australian publisher.

The effects of this would be two fold: it would ultimately force major Australian writers to publish out of the USA to protect their own interests, with all the sorry consequences that would entail, while it would see the destruction of support for the next generation of Tim Wintons as Australian publishers went to the wall, or survived as they did for the best part of two centuries, as distributors for imperial wares made elsewhere for others."

Now this is truly shitty news for Australian writers and Australian readers. Basically it sucks for everyone involved. So, friends, buy your independent books while you still can, because they just might not be there tomorrow.

Damn, Rudd, what are you even doing? First a war on binge drinking, now on literature? You're making it very difficult for me to continue supporting you...

Excessive Accessories

I just don't know what has come over me recently! It's as though everything I wear needs to be over the top and overly colourful.

Take today's outfit:

(The light is terrible, but those stockings are a mustard colour)

And then there's last night excess:

(The white collar is a separate sparkly disco top Kaylene and I found in Melbourne)

And this outfit from last week:

(Note the giant rabbit on the necklace. Or rather, try NOT to note...)

Is there anyone I can see about my problem?

Adorable!

Aw, I just had to post this! My little love-bird, Spekkie, is making a comfy nest in my ponytail.Sorry about the lighting, it's simply impossible in this grey wintery weather.

 

David Malouf - Ransom

The First Tuesday Book Club is a bit of a strange subject for me. I never really watched it, even though I knew I should be. It's honestly hypocritical of me to complain that "people don't read enough" (said in high-pitched whiny voice when no one at the pub has read Catch 22 or similar), while ignoring a popular culture attempt to incorporate reading and - more importantly - discussions of literature into television.

theage.com

Also, I'm a pretty big fan of Marieke Hardy (which I might have mentioned before). As well as writing an amazing popular blog under the pseudonym of "Ms Fits", which has sadly been discontinued, and appearing on Triple J Breakfast radio with Robbie and the Doctor, she also writes for TV shows like "Packed to the Rafters", "Last Man Standing" and "Neighbours" amongst others. And there is more. She also designs clothes, is politically active, and writes for magazines, newspapers and so forth. Marieke is the modern day Renaissance man.

So there is really no excuse for my not being a FTBC fan (acronyms are very in, very now). Which is why I'm going to give it a shot this month. I'm going to read the books, I'm going to watch the show, and I'm going to discuss the merits in a pompous and superior tone.

The books for the next episode are F. Scott Fitzgerald's "The Great Gatsby" (which is also the text for the nation's 'big read') and David Malouf's "Ransom".

So "Ransom" is yet another retelling of the "Illiad". Like most people, this sentence alone is enough to make my eyes roll back into my skull for a good old pensive stare into predictable cliché. However, do not be too quick to judge. Malouf knows what he is doing. There are no attempts to revisit the Trojan horse, there are no nail-biting melodramatic scenes of Paris or Helen (indeed they receive only passing commentary) and, happily for me, there is nothing in Achilles description which prevented me from picturing Brad Pitt in my mind's eye. 

(I'm just going to need a moment...)

As he details in an 'afterword' (I love afterwords! I love reading something within a book which demonstrates how the author functions and is inspired. Screw you, Barthes, the author is not dead to me!) the book's "primary interest is in storytelling itself - why stories are told and why we need to hear them, how stories get changed in the telling - and much of what it has to tell are 'untold tales' found only in the margins of earlier writers" (Malouf, 2009, p 223). 

Take THAT, dominant discourse! Malouf is challenging the historical voice of authority by recounting the emotional growth of King Priam in his challenge to recover the body of his son. Similarly, the friendship which develops between Priam and his cart driver Somax upsets the social structure the text itself presents.

I particularly liked how Malouf depicted Hermes. After pages of conversation between Somax, Priam and an 'unidentified youth', "Priam's eyes opened wide. He wondered how he had not seen it before. 'My lord,' he breathed. 'My lord Hermes!' " (2009, p 158). 

Certain images and scenes within the work pop up repeatedly. Though this could have been an annoying and rather painful technique, I felt that the recurring description of the daughter-in-law cooking 'griddlecakes' to be particularly sympathetic and beautiful:

"The daughter-in-law, she's a good girl, uses her fingers - it's a trick you have to learn - and if she happens to burn them she pops her fingers into her mouth quick smart". 

My only real issue with the work was Malouf's depiction of the narrator. (Warning: Severe Literary Wank Ahead). You see, I'm down with an omniscient author, I can see how they are useful. Especially for complex works, it's difficult to avoid. However, Malouf enters the head space of almost every single character. And often within a section. Now, call me old fashioned, but I feel that any change of headspace needs not only to be well marked through white space (or similar) but also to have a distinct purpose. Much of what is communicated through the private thoughts of his characters could as easily have been accomplished through inter-character dialogue.

So would I recommend for you to read "Ransom"? Yes I would. If only to be able to actively participate in First Tuesday Book Club with Marieke the champion.

Do I believe it will radically alter your view on life or literature? Probably not. And that isn't a criticism. "Ransom" is an enjoyable read, a comfortable and easy read. It is well written, satisfyingly quirky and charming. It is well-suited to grey rainy days in accompaniment with a doona and a Hot Chocolate.

Red Red Red Red Red

Her character on Gossip Girl might have a terrible name (Blair? Bleh!) but Leighton Meester has single-handedly re-ignited my passion for red stockings...