Lesley Truffle's Blog, page 10
January 12, 2021
Venus in Steel
Venus in Steel
He has the slimy assurance, the gross patter about transcendence through art, of a blow-dried Baptist selling swamp acres in Florida. And the result is that you can’t imagine America’s singularly depraved culture without him.
Robert Hughes on Jeff Koons.
Jeff Koons has always been a divisive artist. The late art critic Robert Hughes was not the only critic to question Koons integrity or artistic merit. Detractors named him ‘The King of Kitsch’ but Koons declared himself equal to Pablo Picasso.
Koons has much in common with the late Andy Warhol. Both appropriated other artisans work, commercial objects and domestic items to manufacture their own work and fame. Both Warhol and Koons established commercial workshops, engaging accomplished artists and artisans to produce their work.
Koons is known for his ability to link his creations to the classical ideals of philosophy. He perfected his sublime salesmanship skills selling gallery memberships at MOMA in New York. And then successfully flogged commodities on Wall Street.
He wasn’t always known to the press as ‘the world’s most successful living artist’. Koons reputation took something of a bollocking when he produced a series of soft porn images in 1990. ‘Made in Heaven’ was a lithograph billboard measuring 125 x 272 inches but he also produced erotic sculptures.
The series was all about Koons getting it on with the Hungarian-Italian pornstar Ilona Staller whom he employed as his ‘muse’. An interpreter was involved as Koons doesn’t speak Italian. He was keen to emphasize the pornographic origins of his creations so the titles included ‘Jeff Eating Ilona’ and ‘Blow Job’.
Known to her many fans as ‘La Cicciolina’ (little fleshy one), Staller was elected to the Italian parliament in 1987. While in office, prior the Gulf War, she cheerfully offered her sexual services to Saddam Hussein in return for freeing Hussein’s hostages being held as human shields. Hussein failed to respond.
Koons currently helms a huge workshop in Manhattan where professional artisans and engineers produce massive sculptural works that involve cutting edge production techniques, reverse engineering and precision painting and polishing.
Koon’s ‘Venus’ sculpture was purchased recently by a group of wealthy Australian philanthropists for an undisclosed fee and then bequeathed to the National Gallery of Victoria. It’s anyone’s guess what the bequest is worth given that Koons ‘Rabbit’ (1986) – a three foot tall steel sculpture – was sold in 2019 for $U91 million ($AU131.8 million).
I viewed Koons ‘Venus’ at the NGV. It’s basically a mirror-polished, stainless steel, 2.5 metre sculpture resembling an 18th century porcelain figurine. Each and every surface reflects the gallery lights and mirrors the viewers (photo above).
Koons steel ‘Venus” has nothing in common with ‘Venus de Milo’, the ancient Greek sculpture now thought to be by Alexandros of Antioch. Created between 130 and 100 BC, researchers claim her to be Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love and beauty. Others believe her to be the sea-goddess Amphitrite.
Venus de Milo’s expression is cool and self-contained. At home in Paris at the Louvre, she stands bare-breasted and proud. For centuries researchers have tried to find out what happened to her missing arms. She’s not telling.
Jeff Koons Venus is a heavy, chunky figure directly copied from a coloured porcelain figure by Wilhelm Christian Myer (1769). Originally factory manufactured, Myer’s ‘Venus’ was replicated many times and still commercially available in the twentieth century.
The stainless steel Venus clutches a laurel wreath as she gazes listlessly at the pair of lovebirds perched next to her right buttock. Venus is treading on classical symbols such as an upturned urn, heavy drapery and what appears be an abandoned chariot wheel.
No doubt when she was still a matronly 34cm porcelain figure back in the late 18th century, Venus would have quietly adorned many homely parlours.
Her creator probably never imagined she’d end up armoured in mirrored stainless steel, standing over eight feet tall in bare feet and being clinically examined from every angle by hordes of gallery patrons.
As Andy Warhol once said, ‘Art is what you can get away with.‘
Image above: Jeff Koons Venus (2016-2020) at the NGV Melbourne.
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January 3, 2021
Phoenix Rising
Phoenix Rising
‘Hope. It’s like a drop of honey, a field of tulips blooming in the springtime. It’s a fresh rain, a whispered promise, a cloudless sky, the perfect punctuation mark at the end of a sentence. And it’s the only thing in the world keeping me afloat.’
Tahereh Mafi
Moira Finucane is an Australian actor, writer, director and burlesque performer. During the recent pandemic shutdowns, she organized her own ‘hope campaigns’ – such as making 600 jars of marmalade and then giving it all away.
She also organized drive by spectacles involving other artists. I really wish I’d seen the 1965 Mustang convertible Finucane used for the drive by performances.
Finucane is a brilliant storyteller and her tales draw on mystical events, erotica and some of the grimmer fairy tales. She has ability to pull you into her gothic world, and once there you’re susceptible to whatever she feels like laying on you.
What occurs switches from drama, to melodrama and comedy in quick succession. Her voice is a magnificent instrument that can go from a deep throaty pitch to male baritone and quickly back to a girly giggle.
Moira Finucane is a passionate woman and her professional background in environmental science and human rights permeates and fuels her performances. Some time ago, I saw her performance piece Rapture in Melbourne, shortly before she left on tour for China and Germany.
The publicity posters for Rapture described it as ‘a party on the edge of the abyss’. It was an emotional experience: fabulous, excessive and brilliantly written. Nobody nods off during Finucane’s performances.
As she said in an interview prior to the opening of Rapture, ‘When you see me naked on stage it’s about power; it’s about humanity … and sometimes I’m going to look like a monster.’
Her work is frequently described as transgressive which implies she operates outside the perimeters of conventional theatre. Finucane has tackled political issues such as gender violence and environmental sustainability, and she did so forcefully using bait and switch. Her performances segued effortlessly from impassioned hard-hitting pieces on refugees to witty social satire.
In a recent interview Finucane commented on her belief that 2021 will be a ‘Phoenix Year’. For despite everything that went down globally in the last year, she has hope for the future. The actor and her collaborator, Jackie Smith, have been working on several projects to help communities rise from the ashes of 2020.
Images of the mythological phoenix have been created and referenced in many cultures for centuries. The phoenix dies in a fire of its own making before rising again from the ashes. Because it is reborn from its own death, the phoenix symbolizes regeneration and immortality. Usually the phoenix is depicted as a fantastical creature with magnificent long feathers in fiery tones: brilliant yellows, oranges, reds, and gold.
I too am hoping that 2021 will be a Phoenix Year.
Image above: The Phoenix from the Aberdeen Bestiary.
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December 23, 2020
Trees of Paradise
‘He who loves not women, wine and song remains a fool his whole life long’.
Martin Luther – Professor of theology, author, composer, Augustinian monk.
Trees of Paradise
Historians believe our Christmas trees might be a close relative of the Medieval Trees of Paradise that appeared in Western Europe around late December in mystery/miracle plays.
The Paradise Tree was a theatrical prop symbolizing the two trees in the Garden of Eden: the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil and the Tree of Life. Red apples were hung on the branches of evergreen trees and a circle of candles lit the trees for the telling of Adam & Eve’s tale.
Christmas tree traditions also go way back to pagan Irish celebrations. Decorations were handmade, usually of the sun, moon and stars. They were hung on the tree along with decorative symbols representing souls who’d left the earth.
It’s believed that Martin Luther – the sixteenth century German monk – came up with the idea of adding candlelight to a tree.
Luther is better known for nailing 95 theses to a Wittenberg church door. His beliefs helped initiate the Reformation. He acted because he was appalled by the excesses and corruption of the Roman Catholic Church. Luther married a former nun and fathered six children.
Legend has it that one cold winters eve, as Luther tramped through the snow, he was wonder struck by the stars brilliantly lighting up the evergreen trees. He promptly chopped down a pine tree and decorated it with burning candles so his children could experience what he’d seen.
Image: Eve giving Adam the forbidden fruit, by Lucas Cranach the Elder, 1533.
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December 18, 2020
Pagan Rituals
Pagan Rituals
Many present day Christmas traditions were derived from ancient cultures. Originally created by our ancestors, the same rituals manifest across the Western World every December.
In the past these traditions were mysterious and sacred rites. They were backed by superstition, belief in magic and the desire to protect communities from fear of the unknown.
Celtic and Roman myths feature heavily in the way we decorate our homes at Christmas. While noshing shamelessly, sucking down vast quantities of Christmas cheer and indulging in decidedly bizarre behaviour.
However, it’s not all carol singing and tinsel. The police are inevitably busier during what is quaintly termed the Festive Season. The constabulary are currently making noises to the press about an increase in car thefts, aggravated burglaries, home invasions, robberies, serious assaults and knife crimes.
The Festive Season ignites the tensions that simmer under the surface of many dysfunctional families. According to recent research, existing problems are currently being intensified by COVID-19 shutdowns, relationship breakdowns, job losses and financial distress.
On a lighter note, Christmas as we know it started out as the ancient Roman holiday of Saturnalia. It was a pagan festival, celebrated 17–25 December. Eventually it morphed into Christmas (literally meaning Christ’s Mass) as Christians sought to usurp pagan holidays and traditions.
Ancient Irish and Celtic traditions are still around. In pre-Christian times holly and ivy wreaths were fixed to front doors to keep away vindictive evil spirits. And leaving a burning candle in a window was an ancient ritual to allow the spirits to pass on by peacefully.
In many Irish homes the burning of a yule log on Christmas morning happens even during the mildest winter weather. Back in pre-Christian times, Yul was a Pagan rite to honour the Mother Goddess and celebrate Winter Solstice.
The Celtic year was divided into a dark half and a light half. The first of November marked the dark half. Around this time a gap in time opened and Druids believed they could travel to other times and places.
It was also believed that the sun stood still for twelve days in mid-winter and the lighting of logs banished the darkness along with any evil spirits.
The hanging mistletoe that you avoid when you don’t fancy kissing disreputable acquaintances and relatives, had its origins in Celtic Druid traditions. Mistletoe was an earthly manifestation of Taranus – the Thunder or Sun God.
Apparently Druids believed that oak trees were sacred and the mistletoe that grew on the oaks had medicinal properties and was exceptionally powerful when used in spells.
Mistletoe was also venerated for its medicinal properties and as a symbol of renewal and male fertility. It was considered to be a powerful plant as it could blossom during freezing cold winters.
In the eighteenth century when mistletoe was hung overhead, gentlemen acquired the right to kiss any girl who was foolish enough to loiter under it. Since then mistletoe has gone on to become the bane of office Christmas parties and knees-ups everywhere.
Joyeux Noël! – Merry Christmas to you all!
Image: The Mistletoe or Christmas Gambols 1796 (Lewis Walpole Library)
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November 22, 2020
Flash Gordon
FLASH GORDON
‘Flash, Flash, I love you, but we only have fourteen hours to save the Earth!’
Flash Gordon (1980)
Ming the Merciless from the planet Mongo, has a delightfully wicked line in evil patter – ‘Pathetic Earthlings … Who can save you now? ’ Played by Max von Sydow, Ming is phenomenally sinister with a villain’s cackle that resonates.
Actor Sam J. Jones is Flash Gordon the New York Jets quarterback. Easy on the eye and agreeably muscular, Jones became an actor after gainful employment in the US Marine Corps and playing semi-professional American football.
His football training came in handy when there’s an impromptu football game – an entire team of Ming’s thugs against Flash Gordon. Ming murmurs to one of his henchmen, ‘Klytus! Are your men on the right pills? Maybe you should execute their trainer!’
I won’t reveal more as it might be a spoiler if you haven’t seen the film.
Adapted from Alex Raymond’s comics the filming of Flash Gordon had a rocky start and finish. The producer, Dino De Laurentiis tried to engage Fellini and then George Lucas to direct but neither were up for it.
Driving the momentum of the film is a powerful musical score by Queen, incorporating orchestral sections by Howard Blake. Freddy Mercury’s thumping anthem to Flash Gordon – Saviour of the Universe and King of the Impossible – not only sets the tone but maintains the momentum.
The innovative musician had a passion for opera and Mercury fused operatic elements with hard core rock. Using synthesizers and rapid fire guitar work, Queen created a mix of rock and progressive electronica, which suited the fast paced movie. The film’s soundtrack to Flash Gordon was Queen’s ninth studio album and their first soundtrack album.
In 1980 the film was released and many critics were scathing but overall the reviews were positive. The movie did exceptionally well in Italy and the UK. Since then Flash Gordon has gone on to become a cult movie and has been referenced by filmmakers, designers and musicians.
Flash Gordon is one of my favourite films. Admittedly the acting is sometimes uneven but there are so many things to love. Including the comedic pronunciation of the word ‘Earth ’. When pronounced snidely – in the plummy British tones of arch villain Klytus – our planet comes off as being comparable to a giant turd.
In 2020 – the year many of us would like to forget – Ming’s ticking off of we Earthlings has resonance:
‘Pathetic earthlings. Hurling your bodies out into the void, without the slightest inkling of who or what is out here. If you had known anything about the true nature of the universe, anything at all, you would’ve hidden from it in terror.’
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November 13, 2020
Barbarella
BARBARELLA
Barbarella psychedella,
There’s a kind of cockleshell about you.
Dazzle me with rainbow colour;
Fade away the duller shade of living.
Theme song from Barbarella.
When it first hit me just how serious COVID_19 was, the original 1982 Bladerunner movie (set in an apocalyptic world in 2019) suddenly seemed prophetic. I wanted to leave planet earth, go off-world and come back later. Perhaps.
Although Barbarella (1968) is also a futuristic Sci Fi movie, it comes at us from a different angle. Directed by Roger Vadim and based on a French adult comic by Jean-Claude Forest, it’s essentially comedic.
Jane Fonda is Barbarella, a high-ranking United Earth Government space agent. Set in the year 40,000, Barbarella’s directive is not to save the earth – she has to save the universe. Aided only by a pink spaceship and an extensive wardrobe of foxy leotards and faux fur tails, accessorized by sexy body armour and hand weapons.
The world Barbarella leaves behind is idyllic, peaceful and opposed to war. Her secret mission is to find Doctor Durand Durand and bring him back to earth. Brilliant but quintessentially evil, he’s developed a mega weapon of destruction. The Positronic Ray is a diabolical threat to earth.
The central plot is almost secondary to the subplot of Barbarella as an innocent stumbling across a series of sexual adventures. When captured and imprisoned in Durand’s pleasure machine – known as the Orgasmatron or Excessive Machine – the machine combusts. Barbarella outlasts the machine and leaves it in flames.
Roger Vadim declared his intentions as, ‘The picture is going to be more of a spectacle than a cerebral exercise for a few way-out intellectuals.’
He succeeded. The French-Italian production opens with a zero gravity striptease sequence in Barbarella’s spaceship. Being 1968, Vadim had no computer generated effects to fall back on.
Accordingly Jane Fonda rolled around naked on a large sheet of plexiglass. It was suspended over an image of Barbarella’s spaceship. She was filmed from above to provide the illusion of zero gravity.
Later when Barbarella takes to the skies in the muscular arms of Pygor, the actors wore body harnesses that chafed and tore at their flesh. Frequently they were left with injuries, bruises and cuts. Pygor is handsome, noble and virtuous to a fault – apart from when he ravishes Babarella in his angel’s nest. At one point he murmurs, ‘An angel doesn’t make love. An angel is love.’
When the film was released it was derided by serious critics as glossy trash. But the public loved Barbarella. It was the second-most-popular film in general release in the United Kingdom after The Jungle Book. An interesting point of comparison.
Since then Barbarella has been praised, analysed and applauded by journalists and some feminist film critics. Its imagery has been appropriated for years by creatives and influential designers such as Jean-Paul Gaultier. The film has also been promoted to iconic status by those of us who appreciate comedic, flamboyant Sci-Fi movies.
Noah Berlatsky wrote, ‘Viewers of the film in 1968 knew that hippies nattering on about peace and love wasn’t going to save them. Vietnam ground on no matter how fetchingly Barbarella tossed her hair and lost all her clothes.’
Barbarella is pure escapism packaged in a futuristic Sci-Fi parody. It remains one of my most favourite films.
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October 22, 2020
Halloween and Pagan Jollifications
HALLOWEEN AND PAGAN JOLLIFICATION
October turns my local supermarket black and orange. Ghoulish looking snacks appear and recipes are popular for anything that resembles decapitated hands, lost eyeballs, witches, jack-o-lanterns and skeletons.
Currently popular are frozen hands in a bowl of spiced up red wine for the adults or red cordial for les enfants. It’s called Fright Night. The hands are made by filling up rubber gloves with water, tying them off and freezing them. A dodgy business if the glove springs a leak in your freezer.
Pretzel Ghosts are created when small pretzels are coated in white chocolate and candy eyeballs are jammed in the top two holes leaving a gaping mouth. One bite and it’s gone.
An Australian culinary oddity is the Redback Spider Dip. A monster-sized spider is crafted from pizza dough and baked. Then it is hollowed out and ‘bloody’ tomato salsa is poured into the spider’s body.
The idea is to tear off the head and legs first & dip. Then slowly work your way inwards so the salsa doesn’t leak out. There’ll be trauma and mess in the kitchen if dining etiquette is not observed.
But Halloween wasn’t always pumpkins and job lots of sweets. It derived from the ancient Celt tradition of Samhain. It was one of the quarterly fire festivals and marked the time when harvests were gathered.
Samhain marked the beginning of the ‘dark half of the year.’ It took place October 31 to November 1. It was believed that the barriers between the spirit world and the physical world would dissolve during Samhain. Ancestors might cross over during Samhain and visit their kin.
There were many myths and stories attached to Samhain and mythological heroes featured prominently. The Celts liked their heroes ingenious, courageous, muscle-bound and reckless.
After the harvest had been gathered. a community wheel of fire was lit and presided over by Druid priests. Cattle were sacrificed, mead or beer drunk in excessive quantities and there was abundant feasting.
Then when the crapulous revellers finally returned home, they took with them a flame from the community fire to relight their hearth fires.
During Samhain offerings were left for the Sidhs (the fairies) and the Celts would dress up as monsters and animals so the Sidhs wouldn’t carry them off. Other threats were the Faery Host – a posse of hunters who might choose to kidnap the unwary. There were also the wicked Sluagh who were keen to enter folk’s homes and steal their souls.
The Celt tradition of Samhain was of interest to Pope Gregory III and his successors. In the eighth century All Saints Day on November I (when Saints were honoured) was fused with aspects of Samhain.
The evening before All Saints Day came to be known as All Hallows Eve and much later it was called Halloween.
My favourite Samhain monster is Lady Gwyn. She was a wandering headless woman dressed in white, always accompanied by her stout black pig. Lady Gwyn liked nothing better than to chase folk in the middle of the night and reduce them to quivering wrecks.
But Lady Gwyn was a funster compared to the headless horsemen who carried their own heads. Their horses had flaming red eyes and if you had the misfortune to encounter them, it was considered to be a death omen.
When you think about the mayhem, fear and jollification of Samhain, it makes the twenty-first century Halloween tradition seem bland and commodified. Whereas burning wheels of fire, Lady Gwyn, headless horsemen, fabulous feasts and tankards of honey wine (Mead) seem much more exciting.
Image: detail of a local house brilliantly decorated for Halloween. Skulls, witchy elements, skeletons and ironic details contained behind a white picket fence.
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October 8, 2020
This Charming Man
This Charming Man
‘If people turn to look at you in the street, you are not well dressed,
but either too stiff, too tight, or too fashionable.’
Beau Brummell (George Bryan Brummell 1778-1840)
2020 is a year where fashion was sidelined. As the pandemic seized control of the globe, fashion was the last thing on most folk’s minds. But high couture fashion is now biting back.
I’ve just viewed a newly released clip of Dior’s 2021 collection presentation. Unsmiling models stalk down a darkened show set clutching oversized handbags. Most outfits are surprisingly modest and some gowns are accessorized with full head scarves.
Gone are the tiers of fashionistas in their black sunglasses and the blaze of photographers flashes. The subdued light comes from what appears to be stained glass windows in a church. But the jewel-like images, are actually an installation by visual artist Lucia Marucci.
Dior has created a pious church going ambience. Instead of thumping music, there’s just the plaintive wail of Ronchetti’s choral work performed live. Everything about the clip proclaims that fashion is no longer interested in surfaces or trite matters. Jollification and laughter have left the building.
But as we all know, fashion hasn’t always been this austere.
Over 200 years ago, Beau Brummel galvanized Regency London with his original take on British dandyism. Beau Brummell’s neo-classical tailoring and sartorial style can still be seen today – not just on London’s Savile Row – but in masculine formal dress and women’s tailoring.
Brummell came to dominate Georgian society around the time of poet Lord Byron. The Regency period was dominated by precise divisions between classes. But even though he hadn’t been born an aristocrat, Brummell knew how to behave like one. His family were middle class but he attended Eton and later Oxford University. Despite excelling in Latin verse, he left university after a year. Brummell was sixteen years old.
In 1794 Brummell entered the Tenth Royal Hussars, the Prince Regent’s personal regiment, as a junior commissioned officer. They were known to be immoral, hard drinkers and keen on elaborate dress uniforms. Accordingly, Brummell distinguished himself by behaving exactly as he pleased, shirked his duties and avoided parades. Within three years he was made a captain.
As Chateaubriand wrote, ‘Nothing succeeds in London like insolence.’ Brummell wore a mask of superiority and it opened many doors in a society that was class-bound. He was an outsider with a theatrical presence and comedic style. Many writers appropriated his insolent style to create their fictional heroes.
Brummell was a big believer in cleanliness and usually spent two hours bathing. No powdered wigs or cosmetic enhancement was involved. Elegance and simplicity was Brummell’s signature style. He polished his boots with champagne. As one would.
So unusual was his dedication to hygiene and teeth cleaning, that his friends would gather at his house just to watch his morning toilette. Many of his contemporaries only ever perfumed themselves to disguise their bodily stench.
Having thoroughly cleansed himself, Brummell would begin painstakingly getting dressed. Aided and abetted by his valet, Brummell’s linen had to be correctly ironed and starched. Knotting his silk cravat was a complicated and serious business.
Seduced by his wicked wit, good looks, poise and style, Brummell was soon taken up by British aristocracy and royalty. And provided with access to their privileges.
Brummell affected a cool indifference. His cutting wit and audacity created problems – especially with his friend, the Prince Regent, who later became King George IV.
When the portly Regent deliberately snubbed him at a high society event, Brummell humiliated him by turning to his close companions and asking loudly, ‘Alvanley, who’s your fat friend?’ Everybody laughed uproariously, but it sealed Brummell’s fate. He lost royal patronage.
Brummell’s lifestyle was fascinating in its extremities. Some historians believe Brummell’s unwise choices were directly attributable to the syphilis he acquired and tried to hide. Brummell also suffered depression most of his life, ‘my inveterate morning companions, the blue devils’.
It’s possible his depression was exacerbated by Syphilis and the chemicals used for its treatment. Often the mercury, arsenic and iodine pills hid the disease’s symptoms but did not effect a cure.
Brummell’s fortune was not as great as his wealthy friends but he continued to spend and gamble excessively. In 1816 he had to flee to France to avoid debtor’s prison. In 1840 Brummell died penniless and insane from syphilis. He was buried at Cimetière Protestant in Caen.
One of his biographers, Ian Kelly wrote, ‘Brummell’s was a fractured personality, rebuilt in masquerade in the mirror of other people’s expectations of him… He was an utter original.’
Image: Beau Brummell caricature by Robert Dighton (1805).
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September 24, 2020
Book Dreaming
Book Dreaming
I’ve often been asked – what are the books that meant a lot to me growing up. This is a difficult question because there are so many books I love. And I often revisit books, usually classics, I already know are going to transport me.
In winter there’s pleasure to be had in sliding under a feather doona and reading in blissful solitude. When I was a kid I used to keep a torch hidden under my pillow, so I could keep reading under the quilt once the lights went out. I’d worked out early on that books provided escape from reality.
Some favourites are:
Eloise in Paris by Kay Thompson (with drawings by Hilary Knight).
At seven I discovered six-year-old Eloise, parent-free, running amuck in the Plaza NY and Paris with Nanny, a pug and a turtle. I didn’t find it strange that Eloise exercised with champagne bottles, as my sister and I had hidden a bottle of Sweet Marsala under my bed. It was delectable topped with cream. As Eloise put it – when ‘ you cawn’t get a good cup of tea ’ you can have champagne with a peach in it instead. I was smitten.
Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë
At twelve I discovered Catherine Earnshaw and Heathcliff living on the wild English moors. I promptly identified Heathcliff as the wicked but irresistible villain. I was terribly disappointed in Cathy when she fell for the decent but deadly dull Edgar Linton, who also happened to be filthy rich. It was the drama that appealed to me: the lustful overheated emotions, histrionics, stricken moors, bitter winds and soul-destroying generational hatreds.
I yearned to acquire Cathy’s burning, yearning uncontrollable fever. Then I’d have an excuse to tear a feather pillow apart – with my bare teeth.
Ada Or Ardor: A Family Chronicle by Vladimir Nabokov
I devoured Nabokov’s Lolita at about fifteen – then came Ada.
Narrated by Dr Van Veen, it’s ostensibly an erotic love story. But Ada is much more than Veen’s lover; she’s his muse, devious tormentor and co-writer. Further complications involve Ada’s decadent little sister, Lucette. I still love this book. Each time I read Ada I find that there’s another layer to discover: the nature of time, sci-fi elements and humorous asides about great art.
It’s been said by critics that Ada is uneven and not as accessible as Lolita. I don’t agree. For one thing Ada lacks the disturbing cruelty of Lolita and it’s much more lyrical. Ada completely captivates me.
However, I do admire Lolita. The first sentence is decadent and perfect.
‘Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta.’
History of My Life by Giacomo Casanova
Casanova brilliantly narrates his traveller’s tales. It’s a wild ride because he had many professions including that of being a violinist, priest and gambler. While living the high life amongst European royalty and nobility Casanova also befriended scoundrels, conmen, thieves and creatives.
Casanova met just about everyone who had power or reputation in 18th century Europe including: Madame de Pompadour, Voltaire, Rousseau, d’Alembert and Crebillon in Paris, King George III, Louis XV, Catherine the Great and Frederick the Great.
Unfortunately, Casanova’s name has become synonymous with womanizers, man whores, philanderers and rakes everywhere. He openly admits in History of my Life, to being ‘an unrepentant libertine’.
In Casanova’s memoirs there are many incidents when he recalls unleashing his charm, with the sole intention of bedding a woman. I’m using the term bedding somewhat loosely, given Casanova’s ability to fornicate just about anywhere. Frequently the situations he finds himself in are comedic, but he had the ability to laugh at himself and his wicked sense of humour permeates his writing.
He usually accepted women as equals, made sure they were satisfied sexually and was remarkably nonjudgmental – unless his lover or mistress was stupid enough to double cross him.
I revisit Casanova when insomnia grips me and he sweeps me back to the 1700’s. His was an elegant life of beauty, excitement, danger, wit, intellect and daring.
My favourite version is 12 Volumes in six books – unabridged & translated by Willard R. Trask.
Photograph: collage by Lesley Truffle
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September 12, 2020
Freud’s Cigar
Freud’s Cigar
‘Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.’
Dr Sigmund Freud 1856 -1939.
In my novel The Scandalous Life Of Sasha Torte, Sasha is introduced to the famous Austrian neurologist Dr Sigmund Freud, at The Sperl Café in Vienna. Sasha Torte – world famous Tasmanian pastry chef – is very taken with the Sperl and Vienna’s ornate architecture. ‘It has much in common with grandiose wedding cakes.’
Freud became known as the father of psychoanalysis. Psychiatrists, psychologists, journalists, feminists, historians and researchers have spent decades dissecting Freud’s theories but the debate still rages.
Much has been written and Freud has been accused of everything from being an unrepentant womanizer/misogynist to fictionalizing his research – but there is no denying the fact that Freud continues to fascinate.
A measure of his fascination is that for several decades, stand-up comedians have utilized Freud’s theories to riff on the chaotic state of the human mind. And Freud’s Oedipus Complex theory, Dream Analysis and Wish Fulfillment have provided endless fodder for literature, film and the fine arts.
In high school I developed an unhealthy interest in Freud’s theories about the divided self. Put very simply, Freud’s theory is that we all have an Id (instincts, primitive wants and desires – your wild child), Ego (reality, tries to juggle logic and reason – your grown-up self) and Superego (morality, philosophical and morals – your quest for perfection).
I found it soothing to think that my problems might be due to the fight going on inside me between my Id, Ego and Superego. It also helped explain what the hell was going down with the derailed adults around me. But fortunately I decided there were many other strange factors contributing to divorce, adultery, domestic violence, dedication to hard liquor and wild boar hunting.
While studying Psychology at university I developed an interest in Freud’s clinical work; treating patients through psychoanalysis to ease anxiety and depression rather than resorting to radical medical intervention. Psychoanalysis was revolutionary in the late 1800’s when many ‘hysterical ’ women were being coerced into having surgery on their genitals to ‘normalize ‘ their emotional state.
Dr Freud also developed therapeutic techniques such as free association; His patients would talk about what was topmost in their minds and allow Freud to analyze what it all meant. He was big on subtext and hidden meanings.
Freud was a heavy cigar smoker and supposedly said, ‘Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar’. As many of his theories directly relate to uncontrolled libido and wild sexual impulses, this statement can be interpreted as meaning that a phallic-shaped object such as a cigar, doesn’t necessarily have to have any subtext. It just is.
Despite his intense seriousness Freud was an interesting and complex man. He not only fathered six children within eight years to his wife, Martha Freud, but he dabbled in cocaine and fought bitterly with his friend and colleague, Carl Jung. Bizarre photographs exist of the two men bonding on a rather gloomy expedition to the Arctic and an African big game hunting safari. Jung looks dismayed posing for the camera with Freud, lethal weapons and their big game booty.
Freud openly supported the use of cocaine as a tool for exploring the human psyche. At the time cocaine was expensive but freely available from pharmacies as erythroxyline. And it was quite the done thing for clinical researchers to experiment on themselves.
Cocaine may well have influenced Freud’s work The Interpretation of Dreams; for Freud believed dreams were, ‘the royal road to the unconscious’. In 1884 he wrote a paper on the merits and joys of cocaine titled, Über Coca. He wrote it as ‘a song of praise’ and described his first experience with Cocaine as, ‘the most gorgeous excitement’.
Some writers – including researcher Dominic Streatfeild – believe that Freud was responsible for popularizing the use of cocaine. Streatfeild wrote, ‘If there is one person who can be held responsible for the emergence of cocaine as a recreational pharmaceutical, it was Freud.’
But like most things relating to Freud, there is still no real agreement. Was Freud a raving coke fiend hell bent on destroying his nasal passages? Or was he simply a dedicated and intrepid researcher?
Photo: photo collage by Lesley Truffle – Dr Sigmund Freud and his cigar .
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