tag:theconversation.com,2011:/us/topics/powerhouse-museum-5676/articlesPowerhouse Museum – The Conversation2023-08-21T04:09:47Ztag:theconversation.com,2011:article/2114302023-08-21T04:09:47Z2023-08-21T04:09:47ZThe interactive art of Rafael Lozano-Hemmer: psychic resonance, surveillance and a murmuration of lights<p>“They stole my face,” shouts a ten-year-old boy into a microphone, before stomping away. </p>
<p>We are in the Rafael Lozano-Hemmer exhibition Atmospheric Memory at the Powerhouse in Sydney. The boy’s photograph was taken as soon as he entered the exhibition and then publicly projected onto his shadow. </p>
<p>Like the social media it replicates, the exhibition content is a product of its users – which can feel like theft.</p>
<p>The main exhibition room, Atmospheres, contains a number of different works including a water-spray wall. The mist coming from the wall is a response to changes in the concentration of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere over time. It forms cloud-like visual texts whenever audience members speak into a microphone. </p>
<p>On the walls and floor of the main exhibition room, there are projected outsize images – a moving feast of text and data. These images and data represent the chaos of the digital world and the ubiquity of digital tracking technologies in urban environments. </p>
<p>All this digital imagery and scrambled text is a bit manic and unsettling. </p>
<p>Some of these elements from the Mexican-Canadian artist Lozano-Hemmer have been separately exhibited in Australia and internationally before. But brought together, the frenetic activity of so many competing elements in one room compromises their individual effect, especially as some recording components were not working on the day.</p>
<h2>Themes of surveillance</h2>
<p>The main work in the exhibition is called Zoom Pavilion. A tower supports 24 robotic cameras, which track visitors as we enter the space and report our appearance to the projectors, throwing our images onto the floor and the walls around us. </p>
<p>This work is a collaboration between Lozano-Hemmer and the pioneering Polish projection artist <a href="https://www.krzysztofwodiczko.com/about">Krzysztof Wodiczko</a>, and presents Wodiczko’s well-known theme of surveillance. </p>
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<a href="https://theconversation.com/not-big-brother-but-close-a-surveillance-expert-explains-some-of-the-ways-were-all-being-watched-all-the-time-194917">Not Big Brother, but close: a surveillance expert explains some of the ways we’re all being watched, all the time</a>
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<p>This type of art is what Lozano-Hemmer calls “<a href="https://dam.org/museum/artists_ui/artists/lozano-hemmer-rafael/relational-architecture/">relational architecture</a>”, invoking the ideas of engagement and social experimentation (the “relational”) and the built environment.</p>
<p>He has also described these works as “platforms for public participation” and “technological theatre”: artworks that try to augment public space with gigantic interactive projections designed to bring people together in a playful way.</p>
<p>In another room, Field Atmosphonia is a dynamic light display accompanied by 3,000 different sound channels, including field recordings of insects and hundreds of types of birds. It is the complexity of the natural world transposed into the digital. </p>
<p>Imagine a murmuration of lights accompanied by sounds. Visitors walk in confused patterns, in sync with the pulses of light. Several toddlers, enchanted by the sounds and lights, run frantically away from their parents and back again.</p>
<h2>Lost connections</h2>
<p>This Sydney version of the show incorporates an eccentric variety of objects from the Museum of Applied Arts and Sciences’ collection.</p>
<p>These objects include a boomerang, two terrariums with plants and rocks, three glass-blown bush-plum shapes by artist Yhonnie Scarce and, in the foyer, a slow-moving photographic panorama of late-19th-century misty Blue Mountains from the collection of Charles Kerry. </p>
<p>The connections between these collection items and Lozano-Hemmer’s work are hard to understand, except that they all connect to the atmosphere in various ways … at a stretch. The inclusion of the boomerang and glass shapes smacks of First Nations tokenism. </p>
<h2>Recreated, reformed and re-presented</h2>
<p>The overarching idea for Atmospheric Memory is that voice activation and image recording can be stored then endlessly recreated, reformed and re-presented to the audience. </p>
<p>Lozano-Hemmer attributes the origins of this idea to British 19th-century engineer and inventor Charles Babbage, who <a href="https://www.victorianweb.org/science/science_texts/bridgewater/intro.htm">claimed</a> perfect recollection is a calculation of the movement of all air molecules and could be rewound to reveal hidden voices.</p>
<p>Lozano-Hemmer has repositioned Babbage’s interest in psychic resonance and spirit reflection alongside his technological forecasting. </p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/what-was-the-first-computer-122164">What was the first computer?</a>
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<p>It is arguable that Babbage’s ideas really were the precursor to the digital interconnection and uncanny surveillance tactics of the 21st century, as suggested by this exhibition. But Babbage also fell for the late-19th-century mystic allure of <a href="https://www.frontiersin.org/articles/10.3389/fcomm.2022.894078/full">life-death illusionism</a>, replayed here as the virtual/real dichotomy. </p>
<p>Both elements (illusionism and technology) are in play in the exhibition, but are not resolved. </p>
<p>Still, the rooms were packed with families enjoying the interactive elements. Even the kids who were worried about their stolen faces seemed to be having a fun time. </p>
<p>After pointing out the central problem of the show, the same boy returned to the mic to shout “Bye!” as he scurried off after his mother.</p>
<p><em>Atmospheric Memory is at the Powerhouse Museum, Sydney, until November 5.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/211430/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>This new show at the Powerhouse Museum reflects the chaos of the digital world and the ubiquity of digital tracking.Prudence Gibson, Author and Research Fellow, UNSW SydneyEdward Scheer, Professor of Performance and Visual Culture, Head of School of Art and Design, UNSW SydneyLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1940402022-11-24T02:19:23Z2022-11-24T02:19:23ZClothes women wanted to wear: a new exhibition explores how Carla Zampatti saw her designs as a tracker of feminism<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497117/original/file-20221123-12-cyanfy.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=35%2C21%2C4662%2C5531&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Carla Zampatti middriff top and pants, 1971</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Photograph: Warwick Lawson</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>The late Carla Zampatti is celebrated in a splendid retrospective Zampatti Powerhouse at the Powerhouse Museum. Planned well before the fashion designer’s <a href="https://theconversation.com/how-carla-zampatti-pioneered-wearable-yet-cosmopolitan-clothes-for-women-and-became-a-fashion-icon-158377">untimely death</a> last year, the unveiling of her legacy will be bittersweet to her many fans. </p>
<p>Zampatti is often referred to as “Carla” by friends and those who worked for her, rather than her brand name, Carla Zampatti. Here, the simple name “Zampatti” removes the emphasis from Zampatti as designer to a simpler assertion: businesswoman, mother, philanthropist-entrepreneur. </p>
<p>It is a move as deft and elegant as the rest of the exhibition choices. </p>
<p>In one of the best-looking fashion exhibition designs Australia has seen, creative director Tony Assness serves up a dynamic vision of clothes punctuated by a vibrant red (one of Zampatti’s favourite design choices) that encourages excitement and discovery. Clothes are arranged by themes – jumpsuit, jungle, graphic, blouson, power – rather than date.</p>
<p>Curator Roger Leong leverages his years of experience to do a relatively new thing for Australian museums: tell the stories of clothes through the stories of women who wore them. </p>
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<span class="caption">‘Animal’ group with close-up of beaded ‘Carla’ cape, 2016 . Zampatti Powerhouse exhibition.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Photograph by Zan Wimberley.</span></span>
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<h2>A migrant story</h2>
<p>Zampatti’s story is an Australian migrant story. Born Maria Zampatti in Italy in 1938 (not 1942, as is often believed), she did not meet her father, who had migrated to Fremantle, until she was 11. </p>
<p>In Australia, she was forced to change her name to Mary. It was claimed the other kids could not pronounce Maria. She did not finish school. When she moved to Sydney in her late 20s, she reinvented herself as Carla.</p>
<p>The fashion business started on a kitchen table in 1965 under the label ZamPAtti. By 1970, Carla had bought out her business partner husband, and was sole owner of Carla Zampatti Pty Ltd. </p>
<p>Zampatti flourished in fashion. She had a finger on the pulse, was in the right place at the right time, and knew a more glamorous role was possible for a fashion designer than the industry “rag trader”.</p>
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<span class="caption">Zampatti Powerhouse exhibition.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Photograph by Zan Wimberley.</span></span>
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<p>In the 1970s, the markets suggested that the ultra-expensive haute couture was about to disappear, to be replaced by informal ranges created by a new type of designer often called a “stylist”. It was the decade of flower power, retro dressing and ethnic borrowings.</p>
<p>Until the 1960s, fashion had been dominated by the rise of haute couture and the “dictator-designer” system – mainly men who determined hem lengths and silhouettes for women. But in 1973, the French body governing high fashion added a new layer of designers, <em>créateurs</em> (literally “creators” or designers), who produced only ready-to-wear. </p>
<p>In 1972 Zampatti opened her first Sydney boutique, inspired by informal shops she had seen in St Tropez. Zampatti offered women bright jumpsuits, art deco looks and peasant-inspired ease.</p>
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<span class="caption">Model promoting the Carla Zampatti Ford Laser and Ford Meteor, 1987.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Photo courtesy of the Carla Zampatti archives</span></span>
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<p>She aimed to provide women clothes they wanted to wear. She draped the cloth and colours on herself. Like many women designers historically, she was alert to how her clothes made women customers look and feel. Zampatti remained the fit model for the whole range and would not produce anything in which she did not look and feel well. </p>
<p>Zampatti saw her “clothes as a tracker of feminism”.</p>
<p>The 1980s cemented Zampatti’s rise to prominence. She became a household name, even designing a car for women. In this time, personal expression became more important than unified looks dictated by designers. Zampatti’s Australian designing coincided with a new development in Italy: the <em>stylisti</em>. Small, focused family businesses alert to the zeitgeist and understanding quality flourished. It was an approach that emphasised quality and glamour. </p>
<p>Zampatti identified talent. She employed well-known couturier Beril Jents on the shop floor after she had fallen on hard times. She then employed Jents to improve the cut of her designs. </p>
<p>Zampatti continued to embrace the services of stylists and other designers including Romance was Born, whom she recognised could take her work to the next level.</p>
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<span class="caption">Carla Zampatti preparing models for Spring - Summer 2010 show.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Photo courtesy of Prudence Upton</span></span>
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<h2>The stories of clothes</h2>
<p>Worn equally by politicians and their circles on the right and the left, Zampatti injected more than power dressing into women’s wardrobes. She inspired a sense that women wore the clothes, not the clothes them. </p>
<p>In this exhibition we are given many examples, from Linda Burney’s red pantsuit worn for her parliamentary portrait to a gown worn by Jennifer Morrison to the White House. </p>
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<span class="caption">Zampatti Powerhouse exhibition.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Photograph by Zan Wimberley.</span></span>
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<p>The exhibition viewer can turn from serried ranks of brilliantly styled mannequins and enter large “listening pods”, screening brilliantly edited videos in the manner of artist Bill Viola. The women, who include Dame Quentin Bryce and Ita Buttrose, discuss the creative mind of Zampatti or reflect on their own Zampatti wardrobe. They are amongst the best such “talking heads” I have seen in a museum.</p>
<p>Like many designers, Zampatti was not that interested in her own past. She did not keep substantial archives and records, which is a testament to the skills demonstrated by the museum in bringing us this show. </p>
<p>Zampatti never turned her back on her personal story, but she was a futurist, one who looked forward rather than backward. </p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/how-carla-zampatti-pioneered-wearable-yet-cosmopolitan-clothes-for-women-and-became-a-fashion-icon-158377">How Carla Zampatti pioneered wearable yet cosmopolitan clothes for women, and became a fashion icon</a>
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<p><em>Zampatti Powerhouse is Powerhouse Ultimo, Sydney, until June 11 2023.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/194040/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Peter McNeil works for UTS where Carla Zampatti supports international fashion student scholarships. </span></em></p>Zampatti Powerhouse at the Powerhouse Museum is one of the best-looking fashion exhibition designs Australia has seen.Peter McNeil, Distinguished Professor of Design History, UTS, University of Technology SydneyLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1470872020-10-06T19:18:57Z2020-10-06T19:18:57ZSurgical corsets, respirators: a new exhibition showcases the art hidden in medical devices<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/361802/original/file-20201006-22-1b4ajqf.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=17%2C0%2C2977%2C1994&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">An artificial respirator made by Both Equipment Ltd, Adelaide, South Australia, 1950-1959.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Belinda Christi/MAAS</span></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>Review: Design for Life, the Powerhouse Museum, Sydney.</em></p>
<p>Life is messy, yet on the surface it comes neatly packaged. Our skin both enfolds and conceals internal systems that are almost infinite in their complexity. No wonder it’s our largest organ. It also mediates the way we interact with the world, from expressive facial gestures to fine hairs bristling in a cool breeze.</p>
<p>So it is with the technologies that sustain, renovate or enhance our bodies. Their unique shapes and sequences are traced through <a href="https://maas.museum/event/design-for-life/">Design for Life</a>, the latest biomedical exhibition at Sydney’s Powerhouse Museum.</p>
<p>It was a delight to return to the <a href="https://powerhousemuseumalliance.com/">resuscitated Powerhouse</a>. Its collections are extraordinary and this exhibition has drawn thoughtfully on the museum’s diverse artefacts. </p>
<p>The thematic arrangement spans our bodily functions from blood to breathing, as well as the capabilities embodied in therapeutic devices. </p>
<h2>Whimsy in minutiae</h2>
<p>Within the “modification and augmentation” display, visitors can appreciate the extraordinarily delicate stitchwork that underwear manufacturers applied to crafting surgical corsets. Painstakingly laced, these garments both embraced and reshaped the healing bodies beneath.</p>
<p>Design for Life is a very Powerhouse exhibition. Its objects are exquisitely organised, but minimally captioned. We don’t hear the voices of practitioners or patients, nor do we see human bodies or the technology at work. </p>
<p>The atmosphere is archetypically clinical. The staging and lighting are serene and austere, striking in their starkness. Display cases echo the functional, stainless-steel chic of the operating theatre. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="Gallery install shot" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/361752/original/file-20201005-14-16ffa71.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=16%2C0%2C5530%2C3700&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/361752/original/file-20201005-14-16ffa71.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/361752/original/file-20201005-14-16ffa71.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/361752/original/file-20201005-14-16ffa71.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/361752/original/file-20201005-14-16ffa71.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/361752/original/file-20201005-14-16ffa71.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/361752/original/file-20201005-14-16ffa71.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">There is a sparse clinical feel to the exhibition.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Jessica Maurer/MAAS</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>This sparseness draws attention to whimsical details. </p>
<p><a href="https://www.cochlear.com/au/en/home">Cochlear</a>’s first prototype bionic ear <a href="https://collection.maas.museum/object/416643">from 1979</a> allowed users to optimise what they heard by flicking a switch to choose between “speech” or “music”. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/heres-what-music-sounds-like-through-an-auditory-implant-112457">Here's what music sounds like through an auditory implant</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>We can see that <a href="https://www.eoas.info/biogs/A000347b.htm">Telectronics</a> upgraded their ventricular synchronised pacemaker Model PX2-B, because the code “PX2-C” has been crudely scratched onto the face plate of a prototype. Redolent of 70s-era graffiti, the date “1 – 2 – 75” is also carved roughly into its burnished and stencilled surface. </p>
<p>Such is the untidiness of innovation.</p>
<p>These minutiae matter. In 2020, the display devoted to “breath and resuscitation” is particularly pertinent. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/361792/original/file-20201006-22-cnkkf5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="A white, bright gallery space." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/361792/original/file-20201006-22-cnkkf5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/361792/original/file-20201006-22-cnkkf5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/361792/original/file-20201006-22-cnkkf5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/361792/original/file-20201006-22-cnkkf5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/361792/original/file-20201006-22-cnkkf5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/361792/original/file-20201006-22-cnkkf5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/361792/original/file-20201006-22-cnkkf5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">A section on breath and resuscitation feels particularly pertinent in 2020.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Jessica Maurer/MAAS</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>I relished the opportunity to inspect a 1940s <a href="https://www.australiangasmasks.com/civilian-respirator">civilian respirator</a>. Mass manufactured during the second world war, this rubber mask was intended to protect our domestic populace from a feared <a href="https://collections.museumsvictoria.com.au/items/1553517">gas attack by air</a>. </p>
<p>In theory, its harness could be adjusted to provide an air-tight seal against inhaled poisons. In reality, the straps on the displayed respirator are secured with three homely safety pins.</p>
<h2>Advertising’s hidden messages</h2>
<p>No matter their clinical utility, therapeutic products also require marketing. The cabinet on “medicine and drugs” presents pharmaceutical packaging from the 1940s onwards. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/361793/original/file-20201006-24-zu54lu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/361793/original/file-20201006-24-zu54lu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/361793/original/file-20201006-24-zu54lu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/361793/original/file-20201006-24-zu54lu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/361793/original/file-20201006-24-zu54lu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/361793/original/file-20201006-24-zu54lu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/361793/original/file-20201006-24-zu54lu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/361793/original/file-20201006-24-zu54lu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">FLU OIA’, Optical Immuno Assay for the Detection of Influenza A and B, developed and made by Biota, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia and Thermo Electron Corporation, Louisville, Colorado, 2004.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Laura Moore/MAAS</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Most cartons are Spartan, comprising neatly lettered information enlivened by the occasional splash of colour. Within this boxy assemblage, a 1967 packet of <a href="https://collection.maas.museum/object/566000">Bronkephrine</a> stands out. Featuring a cartoonish illustration of a doctor’s bag and syringe, what struck me most was its bold claim.</p>
<p>When used to treat asthma, promised Winthrop Laboratories, Bronkephrine would deliver “rapid, exceptionally safe bronchodilatation without tachycardia”. Clearly <a href="https://www.mydr.com.au/heart-stroke/palpitations">tachycardia</a> – an excessively fast heart rate – had proven problematic with previous asthma remedies. </p>
<p>Reassuring phrases such as “exceptionally safe” have since been <a href="https://www.tga.gov.au/advertising-health-products-rules-about-safety-claims-advertising">banned from pharmaceutical promotions</a>. The more widely we use medical technologies, the more we accept that humans respond to them in idiosyncratic and unanticipated ways, and broad claims about safety are no longer allowed.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/pivot-to-pandemic-how-advertisers-are-using-and-abusing-the-coronavirus-to-sell-135681">Pivot to pandemic: how advertisers are using (and abusing) the coronavirus to sell</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>This is the fundamental tension undercutting the exhibition: life is not designed. Even in rude health, humans behave in erratic or capricious ways. Our unruly fluids seep onto operating tables and we push the wrong button. We change and adapt devices, and we lose or break objects. </p>
<p>While the emergent design of medical artefacts may represent new technological possibilities, it can also reflect the impact of ignorance, accidents or whimsy.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/361805/original/file-20201006-16-j49tnd.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="A line of testing devices." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/361805/original/file-20201006-16-j49tnd.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/361805/original/file-20201006-16-j49tnd.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/361805/original/file-20201006-16-j49tnd.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/361805/original/file-20201006-16-j49tnd.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/361805/original/file-20201006-16-j49tnd.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/361805/original/file-20201006-16-j49tnd.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/361805/original/file-20201006-16-j49tnd.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">MicroRapid lateral flow blood test device and prototypes, designed and made by Atomo Diagnostics and ide Group, Newington Technology Park, Sydney, New South Wales, Australia, 2013.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Laura Moor/MAAS</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>The medical utility of the hardware store</h2>
<p>This is why my favourite object in Design for Life is a <a href="https://collection.maas.museum/object/148876">carbon surgical laser</a>, introduced by Laser Industries in 1979. The battleship-grey device looks more like an assembly-line robot than a precision incision tool. </p>
<p>Yet it is entirely humanised. Printed operating instructions have been slipped into a cheap plastic sleeve and sticky-taped to its top surface. “If you are uncertain how to look after [the] machine”, they conclude, “please leave it for someone who does”.</p>
<p>The back of the laser unit reminds me of a patient who forgot to lace up their hospital gown, exposing their posterior to an unappreciative ward. </p>
<p>Here we find a chipped gas cylinder plastered with inspection certificates and stickers; a stencilled filter unit; yellowed tubing and electrical leads. Seemingly critical to the laser’s operation is a coiled length of garden hose, complete with an orange Nylex connector as found in backyards across Australia. Struggling to discipline these writhing and disorderly attachments is a length of hardware-store galvanised chain.</p>
<p>This is the reality of healthcare design: much as we might aim for purity of form, function, communication or operation, medical devices are never merely objects. They live with us – or within us – in all of our chaotic unpredictability. Life eludes our designs. </p>
<p>Yet this exhibition confirms the touching endurance of our belief one day – just maybe – we will actually be in control.</p>
<p><em>Design for Life is on at the Powerhouse Museum until January 31, 2021.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/147087/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>From 1995 to 2010, Peter Hobbins was a professional medical writer whose clients included some of the manufacturers represented in this exhibition. He has not worked for or received commissions from those sponsors since 2010.</span></em></p>Drawing thoughtfully on the Powerhouse Museum’s collection, this exhibition lovingly exposes the humanity behind biomedical technology.Peter Hobbins, Honorary Associate, Department of History, University of SydneyLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1270232019-11-21T04:36:51Z2019-11-21T04:36:51ZDramatic and engaging, new exhibition Linear celebrates the art in Indigenous science<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/302776/original/file-20191120-467-ho5ehh.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=21%2C10%2C2316%2C1389&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Maree Clarke's Men in Mourning (2011).</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Vivien Anderson Gallery</span></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander readers are advised this article contains images and names of deceased people.</em></p>
<p><em>Review: Linear, Powerhouse Museum, Sydney</em></p>
<p>The value of Australian First Peoples’ scientific knowledge is now being more widely <a href="https://www.aph.gov.au/About_Parliament/Parliamentary_Departments/Parliamentary_Library/FlagPost/2017/November/Indigenous_Knowledge_and_Science">acknowledged</a>. </p>
<p>New exhibition <a href="https://maas.museum/event/linear/">Linear</a> brings artworks into this conversation about the use and adaptation of this knowledge, the impact of industrial technology and the ways new technology can foster our appreciation of place. </p>
<p>The exhibition features the work of more than 16 Indigenous artists and material from the Powerhouse collection, including <a href="http://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/unaipon-david-8898">David Unaipon</a>’s journal and designs. </p>
<h2>Country</h2>
<p>The most striking feature of this ambitious and disruptive exhibition is a map of Australia, titled Corpus Australis by artist Ngarinyin Elder David Mowaljarlai. The map is a sensationally transformative view of “country”. </p>
<p>The conventional vision of the nation is often marked by the borders of the states and territories. Another familiar map of country is the <a href="https://aiatsis.gov.au/explore/articles/aiatsis-map-indigenous-australia">Aboriginal map</a> of languages and nation groups with borders of rivers, creeks, grasslands and ranges that rivals any map of Europe. </p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/BhxguzGEp8A?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">Bernard Singleton makes spears and throwers inspired by the laws of nature.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The idea of a nationwide Aboriginal political identity was forged in part through the 1967 referendum campaign and the land and liberation politics of the 1970s; where red, black and yellow captured the people, land and sky. </p>
<p>Mowaljarlai‘s map depicts our shared nation as a body. The gulf country in the north is the lungs. To the south, the Great Australian Bite is the pubic region and Uluru the bellybutton. The rib cage extends from the west to east. </p>
<p>Corpus Australis represents our country as connected through Indigenous and non-Indigenous sites and the sharing of resources and technology over millennia. This is a profound elevation of country to the fore of political debates and discussions. </p>
<p>Scholar <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2015/12/15/world/asia/benedict-anderson-scholar-who-saw-nations-as-imagined-dies-at-79.html">Benedict Anderson</a> explained that the modern nation is “imagined”, yet Mowaljarlai reveals its deep connections and patterns interwoven across vast landscapes. </p>
<h2>Old ways, new technology</h2>
<p>The work of well known figures flanks the entry to the main exhibition space. </p>
<p>Born in 1872, Unaipon – a celebrated inventor who was Australia’s first published Aboriginal author – appears on our <a href="https://banknotes.rba.gov.au/australias-banknotes/banknotes-in-circulation/fifty-dollar/">$50 note</a>. </p>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/302804/original/file-20191121-467-tgw2xc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/302804/original/file-20191121-467-tgw2xc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/302804/original/file-20191121-467-tgw2xc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=757&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/302804/original/file-20191121-467-tgw2xc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=757&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/302804/original/file-20191121-467-tgw2xc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=757&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/302804/original/file-20191121-467-tgw2xc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=951&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/302804/original/file-20191121-467-tgw2xc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=951&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/302804/original/file-20191121-467-tgw2xc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=951&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Drawings by inventor David Unaipon, who is on our $50 note, are included in Linear.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/7d/David_Unaipon.jpg">Wikimedia</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>In the exhibition, Unaipon’s work shows how he applied classical knowledge and immense intellectual curiosity to a comparison of the design features that create upward lift for both the boomerang and rotary helicopter blades. </p>
<p>His drawings introduce the viewer to the complexity of Indigenous knowledge: the design of the boomerang, hunting clubs and rituals depicted in bark paintings, and the wap (harpoon) used by activist <a href="http://www.clcac.com.au/native-title/our-story/05">Murrandoo Yanner</a> whose right to hunt crocodile under Native Title was upheld by the High Court in 1999. Weaving, in the form of three cloaks, stands in for the powerful presence of women welcoming visitors to country. </p>
<p>The works range from photography to weaving, sculpture, digital technology, design and installation art. Artists include <a href="https://waynequilliamart.art/">Wayne Quilliam</a>, Lorraine Connelly-Northey, Maree Clarke, Mikaela Jade, Nicole Monks, Glenda Nicholls, Lucy Simpson, Bernard Singleton, and Vicki West. They all comment on Indigenous science.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/302823/original/file-20191121-542-1ve0tmj.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/302823/original/file-20191121-542-1ve0tmj.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/302823/original/file-20191121-542-1ve0tmj.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/302823/original/file-20191121-542-1ve0tmj.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/302823/original/file-20191121-542-1ve0tmj.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/302823/original/file-20191121-542-1ve0tmj.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/302823/original/file-20191121-542-1ve0tmj.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/302823/original/file-20191121-542-1ve0tmj.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Grinding stone and mill, maker not recorded, collected circa 1900.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Photo by Ryan Hernandez/MAAS</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>If the map foregrounds the work, the exhibition finds closure in a 17-minute virtual reality film. <a href="https://guides.acmi.net.au/collisions/">Collisions</a> by artist and filmmaker Lynette Wallworth, immerses the viewer in the land and pace of Nyarri Nyarri Morgan and the Martu people of the Western Australian desert. The film won the <a href="https://www.imdb.com/event/ev0000493/2017/1/">2017 Emmy Award</a> for Outstanding New Approaches to Documentary. </p>
<p>Wearing Virtual Reality googles, the viewer might be just off Harris Street in Ultimo, but their body sails to the desert country to sit in the back of a Toyota, complete with bumps, muffled sounds and gentle breeze. They can turn around to see the convoy of cars and cloud of red dust that followed behind.</p>
<p>As grass fires ignite, a view from high in the sky shows the mosaic pattern of gentle burning. The fire crackles as it moves along the grass. </p>
<h2>On fire</h2>
<p>The technology of <a href="https://www.creativespirits.info/aboriginalculture/land/aboriginal-fire-management">burning</a> that so shaped this ancient country has <a href="https://landcareaustralia.org.au/project/traditional-aboriginal-burning-modern-day-land-management/">returned</a> in some parts of Australia where Aboriginal land has been repossessed. In other parts of the country, fires are raging wild and threaten everything in their path. </p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/8T05bNegL7M?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">Lynette Wallworth’s VR film Collisions won an Emmy in 2017.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Back in the VR world, we sit around the campfire and in front of a big screen that is hitched to the side of the ubiquitous Toyota (bonnet up). We watch footage of the Maralinga bombings. It starts as a mushroom cloud explosion and builds to a fierce storm front that blackens the sky as it races towards us; the bodies of dead kangaroo carcasses hurtle through the air ahead of the blast. All is dead and forlorn. What an unimaginable atrocity to inflict on Martu country.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/virtual-reality-film-collisions-is-part-disaster-movie-part-travelogue-and-completely-immersive-66563">Virtual reality film Collisions is part disaster movie, part travelogue and completely immersive</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>This is a dramatic and engaging exhibition. As Mowaljarlai’s map announces, it provides a new way of seeing this country: as a body and landscape not of separate nations and language groups – although that is true – but a land with shared rituals, customs and technologies. </p>
<p>There has long been a call for all Australians to embrace this ancient country, rather than fight against it. The Indigenous science and technology in Linear offer us new ways of thinking about the past and future of our now shared land. </p>
<p><em>Linear in showing at the Powerhouse Museum, Sydney until June 30</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/127023/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Heidi Norman does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Bringing together innovative and traditional works, the Linear exhibition gives us a new map for sharing land and knowledge.Heidi Norman, Professor, Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences, University of Technology SydneyLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1249852019-10-22T18:59:15Z2019-10-22T18:59:15ZStep into Paradise review: from koala jumpers to the Sydney Olympics, Jenny Kee and Linda Jackson defined Australian fashion<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/297626/original/file-20191018-56228-150uii9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C1603%2C4912%2C5750&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">You would recognise their designs: bright, bold, colours; clothing filled with fun. Step into Paradise gives us a glance at the women, as well as the fashion. </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Hugh Stewart/Powerhouse Musuem</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>1973 was a remarkable year for Sydney, with the opening of two major cultural icons. </p>
<p>The first was the Sydney Opera House. </p>
<p>The second, possibly more important opening, was Flamingo Park Frock Salon in the Strand Arcade. </p>
<p>Flamingo Park appeared almost out of nowhere with its colourful walls, retro prints and 50s-inspired fashions. The designs by Jenny Kee and Linda Jackson were an antidote to the beige-ness of mainstream Australian design of the period. </p>
<p>You know their work: knitted jumpers with images of Luna Park, the Sydney Opera House, a koala – famously <a href="https://www.vanityfair.com/style/photos/2014/11/princess-diana-best-sweaters-style">worn by Princess Diana</a>. Fun frocks with colourful prints, bright colour blocking and appliqued wattle flowers. Skirts and leggings with kangaroos and birds. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/298073/original/file-20191022-120204-nex8fb.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/298073/original/file-20191022-120204-nex8fb.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=800&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/298073/original/file-20191022-120204-nex8fb.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=800&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/298073/original/file-20191022-120204-nex8fb.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=800&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/298073/original/file-20191022-120204-nex8fb.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1005&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/298073/original/file-20191022-120204-nex8fb.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1005&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/298073/original/file-20191022-120204-nex8fb.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1005&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Kee’s work became recognisable around the world when Princess Di wore one of her koala jumpers.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.vanityfair.com/style/photos/2014/11/princess-diana-best-sweaters-style">Screenshot: Vanity Fair</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Kee and Jackson made remarkable, one-of-a-kind costumes: evening dresses and bridal wear made from brilliant hand-painted silks, silk taffetas and delicate organza fashioned into floating leaves and flower petals. </p>
<p>Their work helped make Australian fashion the flavour of the month in the United States during the mid-80s, when their work was sold in <a href="https://www.crfashionbook.com/culture/a23337615/olivia-newton-john-fashion-line/">Olivia Newton-John’s Koala Blue</a> store in Los Angeles. They were loved by fashionistas, art students, pop stars and international celebrities – and would come to define Australian fashion.</p>
<p>Step into Paradise, at Sydney’s Powerhouse Museum, celebrates these two inspirational designers. The importance of the exhibition cannot be understated. It is the first comprehensive survey of local 20th century fashion and textile design and <a href="https://theconversation.com/australia-has-no-culture-changing-the-mindset-of-the-cringe-85995">seriously challenges the “cultural cringe” myth</a> of Australia as a design and fashion backwater. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/australia-has-no-culture-changing-the-mindset-of-the-cringe-85995">'Australia has no culture': changing the mindset of the cringe</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
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<p>Kee was born in 1947 in Sydney. In London in the 1970s, she worked at <a href="https://www.vam.ac.uk/articles/biba">the iconic Biba</a> fashion store and at the <a href="https://www.timeout.com/london/shopping/portobello-road-market-3">Portobello Road Market</a>, where she came across iconic European designers. This, she said at the exhibition opening, provided a better fashion education than any fashion course. </p>
<p>Jackson was born in Melbourne in 1950, training as a painter before designing textiles, and then dresses. Jenny Kee <a href="https://books.google.com.au/books/about/A_Big_Life.html?id=kmDXtAEACAAJ&redir_esc=y">established Flamingo Park</a> with a A$5,000 loan from her father and mutual friends introduced her to Jackson. The rest, as they say, is history. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/297627/original/file-20191018-56215-1gpxoa2.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/297627/original/file-20191018-56215-1gpxoa2.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/297627/original/file-20191018-56215-1gpxoa2.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/297627/original/file-20191018-56215-1gpxoa2.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/297627/original/file-20191018-56215-1gpxoa2.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/297627/original/file-20191018-56215-1gpxoa2.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/297627/original/file-20191018-56215-1gpxoa2.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">This new exhibition features over 150 garments, textiles, photographs and artworks by Kee and Jackson.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Zan Wimberley/Powerhouse Museum</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The exhibition takes us from the early days of their store to its zenith in the 1980s. We see <a href="https://www.mca.com.au/artists-works/artists/william-yang/">William Yang</a>’s photographs of the 1975 Flamingo Follies fashion parade, and then enter a faithful recreation of the shop, complete with the painting that inspired its name: Flamingo Park by Michael Ramsden, Kee’s former husband. </p>
<p>Jackson’s textile designs translate the colours and textures of Australia’s coral reefs into bright fabrics of red, azure and peacock blue, lime green and acid yellow and roman purple. Scribbly bark and leaf prints inspired by the bush are depicted in khaki, mushroom and loden greens, or abstracted into black and white monotone patterns. The arid landscapes of our deserts are translated into earthy, ochre, mustard and brown scrub and rock prints.</p>
<p>Kee’s designs are inspired by Australia’s native flowers – the waratah, Sturt’s desert pea and wattle; unique animals; and minerals – in particular, the deep, jewel colours of the opal. The exhibition features several of Kee’s rustic and chunky opal necklaces, and her iconic silk opal print which was famously used in a collection <a href="https://maas.museum/inside-the-collection/2011/07/01/jenny-kee-chanel-princess-di-and-a-passing-reference-to-david-bowie-2/">by Karl Lagerfeld in the mid 1980s</a>.</p>
<p>At the opening ceremony of the 2000 Sydney Olympic Games, Kee designed the costumes representing the coming together of the different continents, providing an alternative representation of humanity’s diversity.</p>
<p>These dramatic costumes include geometric, black and white interpretations of the traditional arts of Asia and Oceania; decorative ochre and rust outfits interpreting the traditional arts of Africa and Australia; and riotously coloured confections based on Frida Kahlo and Marilyn Monroe, celebrating the pop culture of the Americas. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/298006/original/file-20191021-56198-ccx8ma.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/298006/original/file-20191021-56198-ccx8ma.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/298006/original/file-20191021-56198-ccx8ma.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/298006/original/file-20191021-56198-ccx8ma.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/298006/original/file-20191021-56198-ccx8ma.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/298006/original/file-20191021-56198-ccx8ma.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/298006/original/file-20191021-56198-ccx8ma.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Jenny Kee designed dramatic costumes for the Sydney 2000 opening ceremony.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Performance costume, 'Tree of Life', raffia / fabric, designed by Jenny Kee. Museum of Applied Arts and Sciences. Part of the Sydney 2000 Games Collection. Gift of the New South Wales Government, 2001. Photo: Marinco Kojdanovski.</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Step into Paradise features over 150 garments, textiles, photographs and artworks. Not only the work of Kee and Jackson, but also artists they collaborated with: prints by Mary Shackman, accessories by Peter Tully, hand-painted garments by Charlotte Burns; collaborations with Indigenous designers from Utopia Station and Bima Wear in the Northern Territory; and a recent collaboration with <a href="https://maas-guide.netlify.com/set/6918">Romance was Born</a>.</p>
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<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/global-shift-australian-fashions-coming-of-age-19237">Global shift: Australian fashion's coming of age</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>Kee and Jackson are still producing creative works, their artwork and fashions changing and evolving overtime. Their joint mission today is to show future artists and designers they can be successful by maintaining their Australian identity – despite fast fashion and increasing globalisation. </p>
<p>This aptly named exhibition is an experience that must not be missed.</p>
<p><em>Jenny Kee and Linda Jackson: Step Into Paradise is at the Powerhouse Museum until 22 March 2020</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/124985/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Tracey Sernack-Chee Quee does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>With bright colours and a celebration of Australiana, designers Jenny Kee and Linda Jackson came to define Australian fashion. A new exhibition traces their nearly 50 years of creation.Tracey Sernack-Chee Quee, PhD Candidate, Faculty of Design, Architecture & Building, University of Technology SydneyLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/748332017-04-05T02:15:36Z2017-04-05T02:15:36ZPrint your own masterpieces and digital pens – the brave new world of the museum<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/161973/original/image-20170322-31219-11hhpt6.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">You can 'walk' through the Musée d’Orsay in Paris using the Google Arts & Culture platform.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Google Arts & Culture</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>People can now access much of Sydney’s Museum of Applied Arts and Sciences’ <a href="https://collection.maas.museum/">extensive collection online</a>. High-resolution images of more than 130,000 objects are available for viewing on a new, mobile-friendly collections website.</p>
<p>The Museum, which includes the Powerhouse Museum, is one of a host around the world making their collections and data available for free public use.</p>
<p>My research investigates the different ways – from digital pens to crowd-sourced exhibitions – museums are meeting their audiences’ changing expectations. </p>
<h2>Make your own path</h2>
<p>Bringing technology into museums allows patrons to move past traditional aids, like maps and audio guides, which dictate how to navigate an exhibition. Visitors are increasingly encouraged to roam, using a variety of sophisticated tools to create their own paths. </p>
<p>Take the Google Cultural Institute, which has an app that lets visitors in participating institutions see comprehensive information about any artwork by just holding up their phone. </p>
<p>Another intriguing example, at Cooper Hewitt Design Museum in New York, is the <a href="https://www.cooperhewitt.org/events/current-exhibitions/using-the-pen">digital pen</a>. Patrons can earmark their favourite objects, make notes and record impressions by using the pen on electronic tags and touch screens next to the displays. This is compiled into a personalised collection and can be accessed online with a unique code. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/161959/original/image-20170322-31180-tl46hp.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/161959/original/image-20170322-31180-tl46hp.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/161959/original/image-20170322-31180-tl46hp.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=371&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/161959/original/image-20170322-31180-tl46hp.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=371&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/161959/original/image-20170322-31180-tl46hp.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=371&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/161959/original/image-20170322-31180-tl46hp.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=466&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/161959/original/image-20170322-31180-tl46hp.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=466&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/161959/original/image-20170322-31180-tl46hp.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=466&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The digital pen can tag artwork or make notes on touch screens, to create an individually curated collection.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Cooper Hewitt Design Museum</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Likewise, Tasmania’s Museum of Old and New Art has replaced traditional wall labels with <a href="https://mona.net.au/museum/the-o">the O</a>, a tablet that tracks the holder’s on-site movement and provides useful information about nearby artefacts. </p>
<p>We’re likely to see the development of more devices – both mobile and wearable – that detect our surroundings and respond with flexible and highly relevant information. Apple is already moving into this space, with its recent patent for a mobile augmented reality system designed for museums. </p>
<h2>Print your own masterpieces</h2>
<p>A striking new development is the number of organisations embracing the principles of open access: making images of their public domain items available for free. </p>
<p>While theoretically, public domain images (where no copyright exists, generally some time after the death of the creator) are available to all, in practice supplying high quality images of entire collections is costly. Museums have traditionally sold these for a modest profit. </p>
<p>A notable case study is the Rijksmuseum, the Dutch national museum. In 2013 they made <a href="http://pro.europeana.eu/files/Europeana_Professional/Publications/Democratising%20the%20Rijksmuseum.pdf">around 150,000 images available to the public</a> in a <a href="https://www.rijksmuseum.nl/nl/rijksstudio">dedicated website</a>, including the masterpieces of van Gogh, Vermeer and Rembrandt. The museum urged people to download free high quality versions as posters, bed covers, or <a href="https://www.rijksmuseum.nl/en/rijksstudio-award">other creative interpretations</a>. </p>
<p>The chair of the Europeana network, an organisation that helps museusms navigate public domain, has argued that the Rijksmuseum has made <em>more</em> money through <a href="https://medium.com/smk-open/open-access-can-never-be-bad-news-d33336aad382#.en73npogq">increased brand value, new partnerships, sponsors and donors</a>, than it did by selling image rights. </p>
<p>It’s hard to tell if any people chose not to physically go to to a museum because they could find pictures online. But the Rijksmuseum bet that increased familiarity would pique people’s interest in seeing the real thing, and it looks like the gamble is paying off. </p>
<p>All this connectivity opens up a new realm: crowd-sourced exhibitions. In 2014 The Smithsonian Asian Pacific American Centre invited the public to participate in a <a href="http://smithsonianapa.org/life2014/">Day in the Life of an Asian Pacific America</a> exhibition. Professional and amateur photographers submitted over 2,000 photos, and curators picked a cross-section to showcase. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/161952/original/image-20170322-16514-eih96r.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/161952/original/image-20170322-16514-eih96r.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/161952/original/image-20170322-16514-eih96r.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/161952/original/image-20170322-16514-eih96r.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/161952/original/image-20170322-16514-eih96r.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/161952/original/image-20170322-16514-eih96r.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/161952/original/image-20170322-16514-eih96r.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/161952/original/image-20170322-16514-eih96r.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">A lone figure views Snake by Australian artist Sidney Nolan during a 2015 ‘empty’ event at Hobart’s Museum of Old and New Art. 30 Instagrammers across Australia were invited to capture and distribute images and footage to their followers.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">AAP Image/Andrew Drummond</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>Displaying 100 million objects</h2>
<p>All of these initiatives are designed to help museums fulfil their basic function: to share their collections with the public. The difficulty of doing this conventionally becomes apparent when we look at the sheer quantity of items museums deal with. </p>
<p>Australia’s museums, galleries, archives and libraries contain a combined 100 million objects, and only 5% of them are <a href="https://sites.google.com/site/glaminnovationstudy/">on display at any one time</a>. Around 25% of this mass collection has been digitised, although not all of that is publicly available. </p>
<p>But this is changing, as the typical museum-goer’s habits shift and more collections are digitised. A fabulous starting point for audiences is <a href="https://www.google.com/culturalinstitute/beta/">Google Arts & Culture</a>, a digital platform that draws from 500 cultural institutions around the world. Audiences can actually “walk” – in a high-definition version of Street View – through statuary in the <a href="https://www.google.com/culturalinstitute/beta/u/0/streetview/mus%C3%A9e-d%E2%80%99orsay-paris/KQEnDge3UJkVmw?sv_h=272&sv_p=0&sv_pid=FjndSjvl55w81vbNYu5DfA&sv_lid=6004477680878644429&sv_lng=2.327089926444387&sv_lat=48.85968476784497&sv_z=1">Musée d’Orsay</a> or the portrait gallery of the <a href="https://www.google.com/culturalinstitute/beta/u/0/streetview/masp-museu-de-arte-de-s%C3%A3o-paulo-assis-chateaubriand/YgHyUAyv_g4cvg?sv_lng=-46.6559059650408&sv_lat=-23.56128777446271&sv_h=194.63106850050787&sv_p=-3.9224668723529703&sv_pid=OzBOr6rqwsYWN473wrw5rQ&sv_lid=15029704351325382912&sv_z=1">Museu de Arte de São Paulo</a>. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/162120/original/image-20170323-25779-12lhsy2.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/162120/original/image-20170323-25779-12lhsy2.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/162120/original/image-20170323-25779-12lhsy2.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=420&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/162120/original/image-20170323-25779-12lhsy2.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=420&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/162120/original/image-20170323-25779-12lhsy2.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=420&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/162120/original/image-20170323-25779-12lhsy2.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=528&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/162120/original/image-20170323-25779-12lhsy2.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=528&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/162120/original/image-20170323-25779-12lhsy2.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=528&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Walk through the picture gallery of the Museu de Arte de São Paulo, Brazil’s first modern museum.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Google Arts & Culture</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>These developments offer exciting new opportunities. But will museums remain places for community, history, art and culture? My prediction is that they will, but they face some hazards.</p>
<p>Facebook, for example, recently <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/culture/2017/mar/01/facebooks-ban-on-charles-blackman-nude-artwork-attacked-as-living-in-the-1950s">banned a 37-year-old Charles Blackman painting</a> that featured a naked woman because it violated its guidelines. In museums’ quest to becoming more sensory and agile, they will need to deal with the competing priorities of the digital companies they collaborate with.</p>
<p>Most museums are essentially non-commercial operations, receiving at least some public funding to fulfil a <a href="https://www.museumnext.com/insight/the-importance-of-and/">public mission.</a> In contrast, digital platforms are commercial entities that benefit from publicity and data mining, and have no commitment to artistic freedoms. </p>
<p>Ultimately, the museum of the future will have to balance the tension between using appealing new technology, forging partnerships with tech giants, and their fundamental role of protecting and revealing our culture.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/74833/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Caroline Wilson-Barnao was previously a member of the International Council of Museums and is currently a member of the Public Relations Institute of Australia.</span></em></p>Do you fancy a virtual stroll through the Musee D'Orsay or printing your very own Vermeer? Technology is transforming museums in a myriad of ways.Dr Caroline Wilson-Barnao, Lecturer, The University of QueenslandLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/381612015-03-02T02:36:25Z2015-03-02T02:36:25ZThe Powerhouse is going west – and arts funding should follow it<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/73420/original/image-20150302-5232-1jxyogt.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Sydney's Powerhouse Museum is reportedly for sale – and a new museum is planned in the west. </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Powerhouse/Flickr</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Those angry letter-writers complaining about New South Wales Premier Mike Baird <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/nsw/powerhouse-museum-site-in-ultimo-to-be-sold-to-developers-20150226-13pn5o.html">taking the Powerhouse Museum</a> “out west” to Parramatta are in urgent need of a history lesson – but first, geography.</p>
<p>There was a time, not so long ago, when Sydney’s poor lived close to the city, in the world described so well by the novelist <a href="https://www.australianbookreview.com.au/files/Features/July-August_2009/Walker_commentary_July-August_09.pdf">Ruth Park</a>.</p>
<p>In recent years the inner-city has been claimed by the kind of people who used to call the north shore and eastern suburbs home. Terraces are now millionaire’s rows, warehouses and factories are gutted to become “loft” apartments, or ripped down for harbour-view high-rise. <a href="http://www.palgrave-journals.com/udi/journal/v10/n3/full/9000152a.html">Pyrmont-Ultimo</a>, once regarded as the least desirable part of Sydney’s slums, is now a prestige address.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, the descendants of those who once lived cheek-by-jowl in the city have joined the glorious rich mix of immigrants from other countries, descendants of early settlers and surviving Aboriginal people in the geographic section of Sydney known as “the western suburbs”. </p>
<p>There is a problem in defining western Sydney, as a surprising number of commentators simply think of it as “somewhere we would never go for coffee”. So <a href="http://www.theaustralian.com.au/opinion/columnists/throwing-the-media-dogs-a-daily-bone-its-the-government-way/story-fn53lw5p-1227239156445">Kogarah</a> in Sydney’s south is described as “south-west” – along with Liverpool, Campbelltown and Bankstown.</p>
<p>The first state politician to realise the political value of supporting the arts in western Sydney was Neville Wran. </p>
<p>Federally of course it was Whitlam who had the good sense to launch his 1972 election campaign at Blacktown, but Wran listened to the voices of regional Sydney councils as they argued for arts centres, including the west, and reacted accordingly. In the course of his long premiership the arts flourished across the whole state, as did the economy. </p>
<h2>The Councils driving culture</h2>
<p>The councils that form an arc from the Hawkesbury in the north-west to the Blue Mountains in the west and Campbelltown in the south-west have come together as <a href="http://profile.id.com.au/wsroc/home">WSROC</a>, one of the most efficient lobbying machines ever to front a politician seeking election. Together they cover almost all the marginal electorates that Baird needs to hold in order to keep government, so of course when the west speaks, politicians listen. </p>
<p>Within this group of western Sydney councils there is a stronger alliance of the big three “Regional River Cities” – Parramatta, Penrith and Liverpool. These urban hubs have (under-resourced) hospitals, schools, law courts and the <a href="http://www.uws.edu.au/campuses_structure/cas/campuses">University of Western Sydney</a>. </p>
<p>They are already the home of some of the liveliest cutting-edge cultural centres in the country and have mounted the case for western Sydney in a newly published Deloitte report: <a href="http://www2.deloitte.com/au/en/pages/economics/articles/building-western-sydney-cultural-arts-economy.html">Building Western Sydney’s Cultural Arts Economy – a key to Sydney’s success</a>. </p>
<p>A handy map shows that western Sydney has 8,841 square kilometres (the east has 1,620) and while its population is now 2.03 million, by 2031 it is projected to be 2.89 million (the east should be 2.68). The west attracts only 1% of Commonwealth arts funding and 5.5% of the state’s cultural arts, heritage and events funding. Considering the considerable impact of existing arts funding, it is fair to assume that any money sent west will be well spent.</p>
<p>As <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/about-town/fifteen-big-ideas-for-sydney-in-2015-20150227-13qy7j.html">Lisa Havilah</a>, Director of Sydney’s Carriageworks (and former Director of Campbelltown Arts Centre), so aptly says:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>If we could end the social and cultural divide that currently exists between western Sydney and the rest of Sydney, the result would be a culturally richer, more globally connected Sydney.</p>
</blockquote>
<h2>A museum history lesson</h2>
<p>Sydney’s <a href="http://www.powerhousemuseum.com/about/aboutHistory.php">Museum of Applied Arts and Sciences</a> had its origins in the city’s Great Exhibition of 1879, held at the Garden Palace. Here the wonders of the technological age were displayed. It was so popular that the New South Wales government created a Technological, Industrial and Sanitary Museum, for the edification of all. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/73386/original/image-20150301-16169-1qqojg1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/73386/original/image-20150301-16169-1qqojg1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/73386/original/image-20150301-16169-1qqojg1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/73386/original/image-20150301-16169-1qqojg1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/73386/original/image-20150301-16169-1qqojg1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/73386/original/image-20150301-16169-1qqojg1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/73386/original/image-20150301-16169-1qqojg1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption"></span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Dylan's World/Flickr</span></span>
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</figure>
<p>The Garden Palace was destroyed by fire in 1882, but in 1893 the Museum of Applied Arts and Sciences opened in Sydney’s Ultimo, in a building next to the Technical College so that apprentices at nearby factories could get some sense of the wonder and beauty of science. </p>
<p>As well as achievements of the early scientific age its collection included costume, jewellery, ceramics, magical music boxes – and that great piece of kitsch, the Strasbourg Clock.</p>
<p>In 1902 the coal-powered Sydney Powerhouse opened, belching its pollution into the lungs of the inner city as it produced electricity for the new tram network. It was a huge ungainly building. When trams were abandoned for buses in 1961, it stood derelict.</p>
<p>In Wran’s time the idea of repurposing old buildings into something cultural instead of demolition had become popular, so there was widespread support for transferring the overcrowded museum into the Powerhouse shell. </p>
<p>There were problems from the start. Despite the hype, the Powerhouse Museum has never really caught the public imagination. Its visitation rates remain disappointing in comparison with those of other landmark institutions such as the Art Gallery of New South Wales and the Australian Museum.</p>
<p>It has seemed more of a 1980s shopping mall than a museum, with tedious endless ramps and too many gimmicks for return visits. The location is just far enough from Central station to make the walk irritating when accompanied by small children.</p>
<p>Yet the actual collection is so very rich. It belongs to the people of New South Wales and deserves to be seen by them. Letting the masses into the storage facility at Castle Hill is not sufficient. </p>
<p>Building a large dedicated museum of Applied Arts and Sciences at Parramatta, on one of Sydney’s central hubs, makes good sense both as policy and as politics.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/38161/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Joanna Mendelssohn receives funding from an Australian Research Council Linkage Project grant, investigating exhibitions of Australian art and their consequences.</span></em></p>NSW Premier Mike Baird is not the first politician to realise the political value of supporting the arts in western Sydney – and his current tilt at the west is well advised.Joanna Mendelssohn, Associate Professor, Art & Design: UNSW Australia. Editor in Chief, Design and Art of Australia Online, UNSW SydneyLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/381722015-03-01T19:29:07Z2015-03-01T19:29:07ZSydney risks becoming a dumb, disposable city for the rich<p>The New South Wales government has <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/nsw/powerhouse-museum-site-in-ultimo-to-be-sold-to-developers-20150226-13pn5o.html">announced</a> plans to sell off the Ultimo site of the Powerhouse Museum, part of the <a href="http://maas.museum/">Museum of Applied Arts and Sciences</a>, and use the money to fund a new museum in western Sydney. The last part is positive – the rest would be a mistake.</p>
<p>It is commendable that the government is proposing major cultural institutions in western Sydney, particularly in centres like Parramatta. As David Borger, Western Sydney director of the Sydney Business Chamber, has <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/comment/underinvestment-in-the-arts-is-holding-western-sydney-back-20150225-13ojss.html">argued</a> persuasively in The Sydney Morning Herald, there has been chronic underinvestment in the city’s populous west.</p>
<p>But to sell the Ultimo Powerhouse is wrong-headed – a mishmash of wedge politics and bad policy. Governments should understand that cities take decades and centuries to evolve, and that such rash decisions are at the expense of future generations.</p>
<h2>A city of mistakes</h2>
<p>As <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/nsw/powerhouse-museum-site-in-ultimo-to-be-sold-to-developers-20150226-13pn5o.html">reported</a>, the Ultimo site would go to developers for an optimistic A$200 million or so, most likely for apartments. However, the Powerhouse’s rare grandeur makes it manifestly unsuited to such a conversion. It’s ideal for its current purpose – as a major museum or other cultural institution.</p>
<p>To gut such a public asset would perpetuate recent blatant mistakes such as Darling Harbour and <a href="http://www.barangaroo.com/">Barangaroo</a>. In such characteristic parts of the city we need a balance of public and private. Yet increasingly government is missing in action, wantonly trading prized public places and forgoing the role civic elements play in intelligent city making.</p>
<p>Look at the smash-up at Darling Harbour. Why fashion a dumb, disposable city, where speculation is prioritised and where a slew of major public facilities are treated as discount commodities? As the best contemporary urban projects demonstrate, building a vibrant city balances economic decisions with thought-through cultural, social and environmental priorities.</p>
<p>For Sydney, Barangaroo represents the nadir. On 22 hectares of public land stretching along 1.2 kilometres of our city’s most available waterfront, the favoured developers have been gifted seemingly unfettered rights to build as they please. James Packer’s proposed <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/nsw/james-packers-barangaroo-casino-approval-one-of-the-fastest-in-history-chief-regulator-says-20140811-102qzt.html">tower</a>, stuffed with a hotel, casino and units, poses as the pinnacle of greed. </p>
<p>It should not have been like that. In our international competition-winning <a href="http://www.hillthalis.com.au/?id=39">design</a> for the Barangaroo site in 2006, we proposed that the entire foreshore be inalienable public parkland, linked to the city by a network of generous public streets and new public transport. But this plan was soon sold out by dubious ministers and their inept agencies, bent on promoting development interests at the public’s expense.</p>
<h2>Get the balance right</h2>
<p>People are attracted to places that mix public and private spaces and activities, a theme explored in our book <a href="http://www.hillthalis.com.au/index.php?id=114">Public Sydney</a>. Instead of the sterile concept of a CBD (central business district), the city centre is really our social heart, all the better for being a magnet for events and demonstrations, the centre of politics and religion, our most historic place and the epicentre of public transport. There’s plentiful research that supports culture’s role in making cities attractive places to be. </p>
<p>Too many government advisers dishearteningly lack public imagination – the ability to conceive and articulate engaging ideas to make a better life for all. Instead, a stymied agenda is held captive by cartels of self-interest that so dominate many aspects of life in Australia, be it the media, banks, airlines, supermarkets or infrastructure. </p>
<p>On urban issues, the real estate industry’s spivs and spruikers declaim that development drives all. But why let their spin profit at our expense? People make the city and it belongs to us – people involved in all modes of exchange, in living, walking, creating and visiting public places. Developers reap their benefits from places already teeming with life and enriched by public transport, institutions, spaces and natural beauty – that is, underpinned by public investment.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/73304/original/image-20150227-16175-kx1a04.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/73304/original/image-20150227-16175-kx1a04.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/73304/original/image-20150227-16175-kx1a04.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/73304/original/image-20150227-16175-kx1a04.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/73304/original/image-20150227-16175-kx1a04.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/73304/original/image-20150227-16175-kx1a04.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/73304/original/image-20150227-16175-kx1a04.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The Powerhouse Museum, part of the Museum of Applied Arts and Sciences, belongs to a culture and science precinct in Ultimo.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/threthny/5776491048/in/photolist-9Ns2xf-dZtGXt-4CRth6-57BS89-d82Uoq-b1NDue-aYbrVa-aXECJt-b1MZte-aVWeyP-bt4d6E-6NgESZ-6NgB5t-6NgzKc-6NkSPN-6NkSBf-6NgFJz-bt4cGs-bsyKRf-b1MYQP-aWy4Gx-aVWeiB-bENekD-bENecT-brTmVQ-brTmzW-bENfgT-bENf4P-bENeJn-bENeoH-brTmab-bENf9g-brTmXS-brTmHd-brTmDC-brTn2S-bENfot-bENeMn-brTney-bENfkg-brTmjf-6NkP8s-bt4dpj-bt4cPJ-5vSEwW-eBoGnb-9qcfW6-4yEGiF-5Eyb5T-6wjvKJ/">Threthny</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The Powerhouse Museum, part of the Museum of Applied Arts and Sciences, belongs to a culture and science precinct in Ultimo. </p>
<p>Some suggest that the Museum’s Ultimo location is inconvenient. While Harris Street remains dominated by traffic, access is improving with the construction of the <a href="http://www.shfa.nsw.gov.au/sydney-Our_places_and_projects-Our_projects-The_Goods_Line.htm">Goods Line</a> pedestrian corridor and the extension of the nearby light rail line through the inner west.</p>
<p>There should be a great synergy of important institutions along Harris Street with the Powerhouse, the ABC, the University of Technology Sydney and the TAFE coming together to form a science, design, media and education precinct. Fantastic connections wait to be made between those institutions. Removing the museum would delete a crucial part of that grouping.</p>
<p>Couldn’t the museum be in both Parramatta and Ultimo? The Museum of Applied Arts and Sciences <a href="http://maas.museum/about/">collection</a> has well over 500,000 objects, with only a fraction on display. Surely there’s enough material for an expanded Powerhouse with two genuine bases, each with its particular focus. After all, many such major institutions around the world occupy multiple sites in inventive ways.</p>
<h2>Sell, sell, sell – why this obsession?</h2>
<p>The major political parties seem wedded to an ideologically driven obsession to privatise public spaces – including the Powerhouse Museum site in Ultimo, other harbour-front sites, <a href="http://www.heritagespace.com.au/news/499-state-government-sale-of-bridge-street-buildings">Bridge Street’s</a> magnificent array of sandstone heritage buildings, public housing at <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/nsw/no-fancy-extensions-city-of-sydney-tells-new-millers-point-buyers-20141026-11a00v.html">Miller’s Point</a>. Such sales are peddled on the thinnest of short-term economic analyses, discounting the broader values of such assets over longer time frames.</p>
<p>Public assets are hard won and once sold, or leased, near-impossible to reclaim. Surely the well-documented unpopularity of asset sales is because the public intuitively understands that you don’t willingly flog your assets at bargain prices – rather, you patiently save for them. That attitude should prevail for unique treasures like the Ultimo Powerhouse.</p>
<p>Some in government seem to think that beautiful buildings on prime public land seem to be somehow wasted on us citizens, we who are the actual owners. But why vest the privileged parts of our city as playthings of the affluent, exclusive enclaves of high-priced consumption? We should instead proclaim our rights to the equitable, sustainable, democratic mix of the open city.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/38172/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>In 2006, Philip Thalis, along with colleagues Jane Irwin and Paul Berkemeier, won the international design competition to revitalise Barangaroo. He co-authored with Peter John Cantrill the book Public Sydney: Drawing the City, which was part-funded by Sydney Living Museums, UNSW Built Environment and the City of Sydney.</span></em></p>The major political parties seem captive to an ideologically driven obsession to privatise public spaces – including the Powerhouse Museum site in Ultimo and other harbour-front sites.Philip Thalis, Architecture Faculty Industry Advisory Group member, University of NewcastleLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/141992013-05-24T01:30:13Z2013-05-24T01:30:13ZHow the Sydney Design festival poster competition went horribly wrong<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/24123/original/f2mwkj54-1369021894.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">The Museum’s actions create the perception that they does not understand, respect or value the design community.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">http://www.flickr.com/photos/threthny/</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Each year, Sydney’s <a href="http://www.powerhousemuseum.com/">Powerhouse Museum</a> commissions one of Australia’s best design studios to create a poster and accompanying marketing material for the <a href="http://www.sydneydesign.com.au/">Sydney Design</a> festival. </p>
<p>This year they went for a different approach. They put an online call out for entries to design a poster for the 2013 event, offering A$1000 for the winning entry.</p>
<p>Only a few days in, the competition was pulled, citing a disproportionately high number of <a href="http://www.dhub.org/sydney-design-poster-competition/">“non-compliant, offensive and potentially damaging responses”</a>.</p>
<p>Some of the more facetious entries have been archived <a href="http://www.limeworks.com.au/-general/crowdsourcing_design_for_a_design_celebration_an_industry_up_in_arms">here</a>. </p>
<p>So what went wrong? Why did <a href="http://www.nospec.com/powerhouse-museum-sydney-design">the creative community turn on the Powerhouse Museum</a> for running, what was ostensibly, a poster competition with a cash prize and the opportunity to have your work plastered across Sydney?</p>
<p>One of the Museum’s first mistakes was allowing the entries to be anonymous, unmoderated and publicly viewable – creating a feedback loop and inspiring others to submit their own silly entries.</p>
<p>Then there was the money. The offer of $1000 to “create a concept that will be the masthead for our marketing campaigns for years to come” was <a href="http://tomfethers.tumblr.com/post/48235838712/sydney-design-week">seen as insulting to designers</a>. This sort of job would normally attract a fee in the tens of thousands of dollars. </p>
<p>The Museum is careful to call it a “cash award” rather than a “fee”, but whichever way you look at it, $1000 to conceptualise the visual campaign for a significant design event, run by a major cultural institution, dramatically undervalues design. </p>
<p>Although the Museum <a href="http://www.dhub.org/sydney-design-poster-competition/">says</a> they “would have engaged the winning designer for further work and remuneration required to roll out the winning design,” this was not stated in the initial call out.</p>
<h2>The problem of crowdsourcing</h2>
<p>Increasing the prize money, though, would not have rid the process of all its flaws. What the Museum pitched as a competition looked to others like a request to design <a href="http://graphicdesign.about.com/od/career/f/what_is_spec.htm">“on spec”</a>.</p>
<p>Working “on spec” means without guarantee of payment, a practice widely condemned by the creative community along with <a href="http://www.dia.org.au/index.cfm?id=245">“free pitching”</a>, a term used to describe the supply of design services without payment.</p>
<p>It’s a practice that contravenes the <a href="http://www.agda.com.au/about/code">Australian Graphic Design Association’s code of ethics</a>.</p>
<p>The Museum attracted further ire by running the competition through crowdsourcing website, <a href="http://creativeallies.com/">Creative Allies</a>.</p>
<p>Sites like these allow clients to post a creative brief with an attached fee, which is then completed by designers who compete to “win” the job. The winner – the designer whose work best fits the clients’ needs – is paid the advertised fee. The unsuccessful designers are paid nothing.</p>
<p>The design community is split on the issues surrounding creative practice and crowdsourcing. Some designers argue that crowdsourcing provides a useful service when clients do not have the budget, nor see the value in paying more.</p>
<p>Many designers are more than happy for someone else to design a visual identity and website for $400. Others say that if you ask people to do work, you should pay for it.</p>
<p>But ask any design professional whether crowdsourcing is likely to produce quality visual communication strategies and you’re likely to get a resounding “no”. This is not designers being protectionist, but rather reflective of the importance of building a strong relationship between a client and a designer.</p>
<h2>Commercial context</h2>
<p>Running a competition is a strategy that the Powerhouse Museum has successfully used in the past to engage the wider creative community and as <a href="http://www.dhub.org/sydney-design-poster-competition/">“a way of sourcing and generating new, innovative and exciting content”</a>. The Museum points to two such examples: their international lace award, <a href="http://www.powerhousemuseum.com/lovelace/">Love Lace</a> and photographic competition, <a href="http://www.powerhousemuseum.com/photocompetition/">Trainspotting</a>.</p>
<p>On the surface, the processes look the same: a callout for entries, cash prizes and an association with a prominent cultural institution.</p>
<p>The fundamental difference, however, is that by running the competition, the Museum pulled a substantial job – worth tens of thousands of dollars – out of the professional marketplace. The submissions to Love Lace and Trainspotting did not have a commercial context one year, and none the next.</p>
<h2>I thought we were friends</h2>
<p>At the heart of this issue is the design community’s feeling of being slighted by one of its own.</p>
<p>The Powerhouse Museum is NSW’s only publicly-funded institution with a mandate to challenge, yes, but also champion, nurture, and celebrate the design communities achievements and potential.</p>
<p>The Museum’s actions create the perception that they do not understand, respect or value the design community, which does not tally with their past record.</p>
<p>The Powerhouse Museum pulled the competition and now <a href="http://www.dhub.org/sydney-design-poster-competition/">says</a> it will “revert to the standard government process for graphic design commissioning.”</p>
<p>Never has a bureaucratic process sounded so reasonable.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/14199/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Kate Sweetapple does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Each year, Sydney’s Powerhouse Museum commissions one of Australia’s best design studios to create a poster and accompanying marketing material for the Sydney Design festival. This year they went for a…Kate Sweetapple, Visual Communication Design Academic, University of Technology SydneyLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.