Rupert Bunny

Rupert Bunny, Pastoral (1893)

Rupert Bunny, Poseidon & Amphitrite (1913)

Rupert Bunny, Who Comes (1908)

If I were to ask you to name some famous Australian painters, you would probably mention Brett Whitely, Norman Lindsay, Margaret Preston or Sidney Nolan, and perhaps Frederick McCubbin or Arthur Streeton. Of course Australia holds quite a credible list of artists but it is less likely that Rupert Bunny would get a mention. Bunny was the only Australian artist to successfully work alongside European artists in Paris, and receive outstanding reviews during the late 1800s and early 1900s.

The current exhibition, Rupert Bunny: artist in Paris at the Art Gallery of NSW, not only shows a huge collection of Bunny’s work but also his diversity. Personally, I really enjoyed the assortment of mythological paintings Bunny portrayed: the subdued blue-grey images of Pan and the water nymphs with splashes of red from the 1880s and early 1990s; the darker and sometimes horrific monotypes of Prometheus, Salome and alike, completed during the late 1890s; and the more vibrantly coloured and emotionally filled legends of Greek Gods, Goddesses, and leaders, with winged horses and serpents from around 1913 through to the early 1920s.

Certainly, there are many wonderful paintings in this exhibition that conform to the more traditional standards that society commonly finds pleasurable and could quite easily be mistaken for a true French Impressionist. Bunny’s use and display of light is quite fascinating although not as significantly obvious in pictures, you really need to see the originals. An exhibition well worth seeing.

Reach for the sky

Whilst watching the grace and elegance of tennis players like Roger Federer at the Australian Open, I noticed the extension of the players opposing racquet hand as they served or danced into place to return the ball. I first observed this whilst watching Dinara Safina practice. As she threw the ball into the sky and released it, the arm and hand extended back and upwards, flexing, guiding her body and ultimately the ball.

This interested me as an avid yoga practitioner since many of the yogic poses suggest flexing the hands with fingers outstretched, reaching for the sky and creating energy. The theory behind this is that the flexion creates a lighter feeling, and light is tight. So the arms feel much lighter when flexed and taught, rather than limp and hanging with heaviness, enabling the practitioner to hold the pose for a longer period of time. The extension of the hands and arms generate an openness, willing to receive light and energy with love.

Immediately I think of poses such as Extended Right Angle, Goddess/Exalted/Reverse Warrior or the full open Tree pose. But there are other poses that require the full extension of the arms and hands that are not pointed to the sky but forward, such as Warrior or Dancers pose.

Perhaps my observation came about by chance because I had recently attuned my focus to my hands during my practice. Regardless, this only reinforces to me the strength the hands and arms can carry merely by their intended direction. The power these amazing athletes enforce is mind blowing. The power of the mind and the body is even more incredible.

Poetry in motion

The great Roger Federer...

...with Jim Courier after winning first round match against Igor Andreev from Russia

Well, it’s that time of year again when the best tennis players around the world travel to Melbourne for the Australian Open and I had the pleasure of sitting Centre Court during the first few days. We agreed that attending the first days would give us greater opportunity to see many of the greatest players, not only on centre court but also on any of the twenty outside courts, where the elitists practice for upcoming matches. And we were not disappointed!

Watching these athletes is like poetry in motion. Their graceful moves dancing across the court makes the game look effortless. They play for hours, under the burning sun displaying their stamina. But tennis is more than just a game of hitting the ball until someone misses, it’s a mental game too. In a sense, the players need to outwit their opponent, improving their game style to win and move onto the next round.

Tennis is the only sport I will watch ardently. For the rest of this tournament I will be fixed to the tv in anticipation of this years winners.

Look up

During yogic balancing poses, I have recently changed my line of sight, my drishti, from the floor or midway to the ceiling. Sometimes I focus just at that point where the wall and ceiling meet. Certainly as a novice it is natural to look down to maintain balance and stability, but in time strength and confidence allow the eyes to move upwards.

I found in my own practice that by changing my drishti focal point in this way the pose becomes easier. Looking up creates a sense of lightness, a feeling of exultation.

It can be hard to remember to switch everything on in class: arms and thighs tight, stomach in, tilt the pelvis (moola bandha) and don’t forget to breathe – all in a heated room! My focus has been drawn to my feet, to consciously spread the toes and balance the weight evenly. Tightness and cramping meant that I had lost form, so this has been important for me.

For example, take Dancer’s pose. First I stand tall, spread my toes to ensure the weight is evenly distributed and I do not roll into my arches. Then I make sure my thighs and knees are strong but not locked out. I grab my right ankle with my right hand, left hand raises to the sky. I square my hips and look up to that special focal point on the ceiling. Inhale, as I exhale I gently, slowly kick back with my right leg to create a wonderful backbend. My left arm shoots out in a similar direction to my gaze. Gradually, the heart moves forward and down but the focus remains.

There is a lot to remember in every pose, in every practice, but the breath creates focus and eventually it falls into place. As I am often reminded, the eyes lead the way and the body will follow.

Norman Lindsay

Promise, (1919)

Venus in Arcady, (unknown)

Sea Magic, (unknown)

Death in the Garden, (1923)

Recently, I had the pleasure of visiting the Norman Lindsay Gallery located in the Blue Mountains, just outside of Sydney. The gardens are lush and peaceful, scattered with beautiful Goddess-like sculptures. It is easy to imagine the garden pool once filled, brimming with socialites and artists alike as they partied through summer days.

The painting and etching studio’s have been maintained as they were last used by the artist, with some unfinished works on display. The main house, now the gallery, is elegantly furnished with drawings, etchings, watercolours and oil paintings, not to mention the vast number of books he published. An entire room is dedicated to the model ships Lindsay spent hours building.

In particular, I like his mythical etchings which are often politically incorrect or slurring. Intricate drawings of the female form, some with wings, some with fish tails. They are elegant, flowing with narratives from other worlds.

Lindsay created an enormous number of art works in varying genres and with different mediums. Rarely does one person contain such an amazing gift.