Twee are the World

Please understand. We don't want no trouble.

We just want the right to be different. That's all.

Liner notes to Pulp’s Different Class, 1995

Melbourne played host to its inaugural Finders Keepers markets this weekend, with hundreds of people descending on a Docklands pier to check out stalls crammed with homemade clothes, jewellery, cards, home decorations and other kooky knick-knacks. In a celebration of the craft of craft, shoppers milled the converted warehouse to the sounds of angelic voiced singer-songwriters with acoustic guitars and xylophones.

Despite what I’m about to say, I think the Finders Keepers markets are a great thing. Set up to showcase the work of emerging designers and artists from around Australia and New Zealand, they bring together creative people who care about art and design, who seek more than financial reward from their craft, who value the handmade over the mass produced, and being an individual over blending into the crowd. My problem (and I will state categorically, it is my problem) is why did everything seem so, well, samey?

Crafty folks have been happily knitting one and pearling one in contented nerdy obscurity for decades. A ragtag mob of (mostly female) cross-stitch enthusiasts, sewing machine owners, Fimo manipulators and people who make those odd stuffed knitted dolls that always show up at school fetes and op shops. I come from a family of such people, their walls adorned with framed cross-stitch creations of their own hand depicting (for example) the alphabet alongside a cute woodland cottage. There is not a child born to this family that has not been clad in hand-knitted swaddling clothes. I myself have enjoyed many a pair of delightfully impractical woollen socks. It kept Grandma happy, it keeps my aunty happy and it keeps my cousins happy.

The craft scene as represented at Finders Keepers is a little different. It is post-modern and knowingly retro. It is two parts Anne Taintor, one part Fanny Craddock, a dash of Alice from the United States of Tara and (this is where I come in I guess) a spoonful of Morrissey. It takes the skills honed at nanna’s knee and seeks to cutesy them up. Gone are the useless woollen dolls, replaced by… useless woollen cupcakes. Goodbye cross-stitch pictures of doe-eyed Huckleberry Finn type children, hello woollen recreations of the cover of Belle and Sebastian’s Tigermilk.

This nu-craft was thrust into the limelight almost as soon as the global financial wobble became a full-blown crisis. The future was homemade. Recycle. Grow Your Own. Make Your Own. Craft (as I was reminded by a badge I saw yesterday) is the new black. Knitters (I was told by another) ain’t quitters… This is all well and good really. Rampant mass commercialism is evil. People should think for themselves. Using your brain and your hands is wonderful. Recycling is the future. Vegetables are rock and roll. What isn’t clear is why, when you have so many clever, interesting and artistic people all beavering away, do so many of them make the same thing? Here’s a quick run down of the totems of nu-craft on display several times over at Finders Keepers…

• Buttons as badges and brooches and earrings and basically anything. Especially buttons with material on
• Birds – predominantly of the owl variety (which is a shame because I do like an owl, despite the fact that they are not what they seem) though equally popular were birds in cages with variations on door open/door closed. Oh the symbolism.
• Fonts – WORDS. And LETTERS. In DIFFERENT FONTS. In FRAMES.
• Impractical Jewellery – especially earrings made out of found objects that look nice on a table on a velvet cushion but are not conducive to hanging comfortably from your lobes
• Things made out of old children's books – ‘Fanny and Dick were amazed to see how many things they could be exploited for.’
• Rabbits - cuwte lickle snuffle bunnies. On adults.
• Butterflies – oh yes. Butterflies. Fly my pretties. Next stop, unicorns.
• BIG patterns – their name is prints. And they is funky. And they is everywhere.
• Big Glasses – I expressed my angst about this alarming trend for enormous glasses last year. Did anyone listen? No. Many gigantic pairs spotted wandering around Docklands with little tiny people in cardigans underneath them.
• Antlers – mostly deer related (lots of fake hunting trophy heads) though a few creative souls had gotten all Island of Dr Moreau and started welding antlers to anything in sight
• Silhouettes – see most of the items in this list but without the filly-in middle bits
• Laser Cut everything – literally anything on earth that a laser can cut a shape into or cut something out of. See silhouettes. I did. Several times.
• Big things on chains - assorted random large items hung between two ends of a chain to be worn like an ineffectual breastplate
• Old Cameras - a shame this one, because I quite like the aesthetic and the symbolism of an old camera. Still that doesn’t mean I want to see t-shirts, jewellery, purses, cushions and wallpaper of old Pentaxes and Polaroids everywhere I go. Stop. You’re spoiling it now.

In case you think I’m being mean, I’ll reiterate that lots of the items on offer were splendid. Beautifully made, intricately detailed, lovingly imagined. I also get that all tribes have their trends. Punks, Goths, Mods, Emo Kids, Rude Boys (and Girls), football fans, bikers – there’s always something gangs build their identity around. The difference with this kind of art is that the unifying point is philosophical. It’s not based on a look or a person or a thing, but an idea - an appreciation of the personal.

Of course I can craft precisely nothing (though I am good at growing potatoes) so really have no right to criticise what people choose to make and sell. Perhaps I’d be less bothered if Finders Keepers had been billed as a celebration of (and place to buy) all things cute and mid-20^th century retro, but as a ‘showcase for emerging designers and artists’ I don’t think that was the point. In the end I came away from Finders Keepers with the distinct feeling that too much of a good thing is still too much. In the art world nothing kills an original and personal idea like a backdrop of sameness, which - unless it’s just about the money - surely defeats the purpose.

For more about the Finders Keepers markets click here or visit thefinderskeepers.com

I Never Said I Was Deep

I like the world sometimes. A bit of sunshine on my face here, a little rain for the garden there, a lie-in wrapped in daggy flannel sheets, a 95th minute equaliser against Arsenal at home. Tiny things that warm my little cockles. I had another one this week when a man who was helping puppy-proof our yard spotted the Sunderland sticker on display in our car.

Despite being from Zimbabwe he was all too familiar with internecine football politics in the north east of England having lived in Newcastle for a while. We used to live just around the corner from each other. Small world and all that but the thing that made me smile most was that he lived in one of my favourite buildings in the world, Shieldfield House.

It’s hard to explain why I love Shieldfield House so much. As you can see it’s a rather typical and unassuming 1960s tower block, typical of many on Tyneside built in that period. As far as I know it's only claim to fame is the less than prestigious title of second tallest building in Newcastle. I’ve never lived there or even been inside and whilst it’s similar to a block of flats in Hull we used to live in, I’m not so nostalgically romantic about it as to project on other unsuspecting highrises.

Yet there is something that makes Shieldfield House special amongst buildings; it is magic. Magic how, you ask? Look closely at the picture. What do you see? More pertinently, what do you not see? I'll tell you what you won't see - 3D. That is because Shieldfield House is a two dimensional building. Not a reflection on the residents, but a geometrical fact. Shieldfield House has an up and a down, and a side-to-side but it is sadly lacking a front-to-back. In dimensional terms it is deficient to the tune of one. Like those shanty town facades in old western movies, it's easily to believe that a good gust of wind could see the whole thing fall flat on its face.

Now I don’t claim to know the nature of this feat of concrete conjuring, but look again for proof. Even up close and from the side, there is still no... side. Despite the fact that you can sometimes see people going about their lives inside, and even opening their windows, Shieldfield House remains as improbably flat as the Phantom Zone in Superman II.

If you're ever in the area i thoroughly recommend checking out this unlikely architectural phenomenon for yourself. That said, even when visiting it in the flesh it doesn't look any different to these photos, so if you're unlikely to ever take trip up to Shieldfield just take my word for it. As Bucks Fizz once assured us in more innocent pre-Photoshop days, the camera never lies and no amount of James Cameron-style 3D trickery will change that.

Shieldfield House, Mint Custard salutes you. I never said you were deep, but you are profoundly shallow.

Welcome Matte

As a Monty Python Pope once said to a Monty Python Michelangelo, I may not know much about art, but I know what I like… and what I’m liking right now is the work of Portland, Oregon artist Matt Stephens. I recently bought a print of his painting Forest (see below, it’s the one with the umbrella) but could easily have been persuaded to part with my money (if I had any) for another three or four on display in the Outré Gallery in Melbourne.

Forest (c) Matte Stephens

I’m not sure what it is about his work that I like so much, but he’s even managed to make me desire his pictures of cats which, if you knew how much I hate pictures of cats, is some accomplishment. Animals (especially owls, dogs, cats and erm, seals) and nature (lovely autumnal trees, parks, rivers and the ocean) feature strongly in his work, as does a faintly aristocratic olde world high society inhabited by pipe smoking adventurers and Jacques Cousteau types.

Owl and Pigeon Costume Party (c) Matte Stephens

I find you have to be careful with this kind of stuff so as not to cross Kooky River and get washed up on the cutesy rocks of Twee Island but Mr Stephens successfully navigates these tricky waters with aplomb. There’s an appealing mid-20^th Century flavour running through his work which evokes Roman Holiday romance and Jacques Tati-style misadventure. There’s also something faintly exciting about his skyscrapers and ocean liners that evokes the kind of fascination people in Europe had for America before they went and globalised the world. It’s likely his Arriving in Stockholm will be arriving on my wall pretty soon.

Arriving in Stockholm (c) Matte Stephens

Anyway, please go and have a look at Matte’s art on his blog (http://matteart.blogspot.com/) or via his Flickr account, here. Even if you only have five minutes to spare it’ll be an enjoyable use of your time. Melbourne types can have a gander at the real thing in the ever-marvellous Outré Gallery in Elizabeth Street.

OFF is on...

With the Melbourne International Film Festival now but a strip of celluloid flapping around a brightly lit spool in an empty cinema, it’s time to start the Other Film Festival, Melbourne’s annual celebration of film by with and about people with a disability. The Festival runs from today until Sunday at the Melbourne Museum in Carlton Gardens, Carlton.

Dana Nance and Kyra Kimpton (courtesy Restless Dance Company)

This year’s program includes local and international films from countries as diverse as Russia, Poland, Iceland, Israel, Italy, South Korea, the UK and USA. You can have a look at trailers for movies on You Tube (click here) or on the official Other Film Festival website. As well as the movies themselves there will be appearances from festival guests, including:

• Deaf US stand-up comedian CJ Jones and filmmaker Hilari Scarl who will present their documentary See What I’m Saying
• Canadian director and cinematographer Rob Spence, who developed the Eyeborg (the world's first prosthetic eye-camera) after losing an eye in a teenage shooting accident
• Filmmaker Genevieve Clay (Be My Brother) who will participate in a panel with Australian actors with a disability on challenges they face
• Actor/director Clayton Jacobson
• Festival patron Adam Elliot (creator of Harvie Krumpet and Mary and Max)

Still from the film A Broken Puzzle

For those wanting to round off their evening’s film watching with a bit of post-movie dissection, there is The Other Club. Running from nearby Charcoal Lane in Gertrude Street, Fitzroy throughout the festival it offers a chance to unleash your inner film critic in the company of festival guests and filmmakers from around the world.

Full festival passes cost just $120 and tickets for single sessions are $12, which includes free entry to the Melbourne Museum. Tickets available by email at mmbookingsteam@museum.vic.gov.au

The Other Film Festival runs at the Melbourne Museum from Wednesday 25 August to Sunday 29 August 2010. Click here for a look at the full festival program or visit www.otherfilmfestival.com.