Artist painted Archibald-winning portrait with fingers after nerve injury
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The Age
10 hours ago
- The Age
The dissident award-winning artist keeping a close watch on China
In an upstairs room of a Collingwood gallery hangs a line of colourful prints on a wall. It's only when you look closely that you see small areas of damage, evidence of their role in a troubled recent past. Dissident Chinese artist Badiucao points to a scratch on one and steps back. 'Some of the frames are even broken', he explains, saying it was a deliberate choice to leave them this way. These works were originally slated for display in 2018 at a doomed exhibition in Hong Kong. They now open his first Australian solo show, Disagree Where We Must. One of the prints features Joshua Wong, a key figure in Hong Kong's pro-democracy Umbrella Movement. At the time it was created, Badiucao was working anonymously. But three days before the Hong Kong show was due to open, 'the Chinese government found out my identity and took my relatives into the police station, ' he says. In response, he cancelled his show. A year later he shed his anonymity and finally revealed his face and identity to the world. The scratches and dings, he explains, help tell the story of how this group of works was hurriedly removed and hidden in the months and years after the show was cancelled. The Shanghai-born Badiucao, who now lives in Australia, contributes to this masthead and is a Walkley Award winner for his cartoons, has always used his art to critique mainland China's government, its policies, and historical wrongs. This ethos is on full display in Disagree Where We Must. Held in Collingwood's Goldstone gallery, a space opened by artist Nina Sanadze this year, the exhibition takes its title from the Labor government's stated approach to China: 'We will co-operate where we can, disagree where we must, but engage in our national interest.' A room at the back of the space is devoted to a video that first screened on billboards in Hong Kong earlier this year in a test of the limits of free speech in the wake of the sweeping National Security Law implemented in 2020. In the four-second clip, Badiucao silently mouths the words 'you must take part in revolution'.
Sydney Morning Herald
10 hours ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
The dissident award-winning artist keeping a close watch on China
In an upstairs room of a Collingwood gallery hangs a line of colourful prints on a wall. It's only when you look closely that you see small areas of damage, evidence of their role in a troubled recent past. Dissident Chinese artist Badiucao points to a scratch on one and steps back. 'Some of the frames are even broken', he explains, saying it was a deliberate choice to leave them this way. These works were originally slated for display in 2018 at a doomed exhibition in Hong Kong. They now open his first Australian solo show, Disagree Where We Must. One of the prints features Joshua Wong, a key figure in Hong Kong's pro-democracy Umbrella Movement. At the time it was created, Badiucao was working anonymously. But three days before the Hong Kong show was due to open, 'the Chinese government found out my identity and took my relatives into the police station, ' he says. In response, he cancelled his show. A year later he shed his anonymity and finally revealed his face and identity to the world. The scratches and dings, he explains, help tell the story of how this group of works was hurriedly removed and hidden in the months and years after the show was cancelled. The Shanghai-born Badiucao, who now lives in Australia, contributes to this masthead and is a Walkley Award winner for his cartoons, has always used his art to critique mainland China's government, its policies, and historical wrongs. This ethos is on full display in Disagree Where We Must. Held in Collingwood's Goldstone gallery, a space opened by artist Nina Sanadze this year, the exhibition takes its title from the Labor government's stated approach to China: 'We will co-operate where we can, disagree where we must, but engage in our national interest.' A room at the back of the space is devoted to a video that first screened on billboards in Hong Kong earlier this year in a test of the limits of free speech in the wake of the sweeping National Security Law implemented in 2020. In the four-second clip, Badiucao silently mouths the words 'you must take part in revolution'.
The Age
a day ago
- The Age
Perth dancer's renaissance after horror knife attack pirouettes to the big screen
It was the dawn of the new millennium and 22-year-old Western Australian Academy of Performing Arts dance graduate Floeur Alder was on top of the world. Alder had just returned from a dream four-month study trip to Europe that she hoped would set her up for a brilliant career and was tripping lightly down Mary Street to her Highgate home in June, 2000. Then, without any rhyme or reason, a man emerged from the darkness and plunged a knife deep into her face. He said nothing and disappeared back into the night. Alder managed to make it to her home and pull out the knife before dragging herself to a Greek restaurant in Beaufort Street, blood spurting from her neck. The owner called an ambulance and Alder was rushed to Royal Perth Hospital where she endured six hours of surgery and two blood transfusions, with the knife narrowly missing her jugular. While a skilled plastic surgeon managed to repair the surface damage, Alder spent the better part of the decade dealing with the trauma and healing a body that should have been gracing Australian and European stages. 'I was full of anger and rage,' says Alder. 'I was looking at people coming out of WAAPA and comparing myself to them. 'It made me mad. Their lives and careers were progressing while I wasn't going anywhere.' Adding insult to injury was the fact that Alder is the daughter of Perth dance legends Lucette Aldous and Alan Alder. Hanging over her entire life was the expectation she would match her parents' achievements. In particular, Alder was constantly compared to her mother, the New Zealand-born, Perth-raised prima ballerina who was the resident dancer of the Australian Ballet and who achieved icon status performing with Rudolph Nureyev in his famed production of Don Quixote. 'When mum was 21 she was at the Royal Ballet doing Sleeping Beauty with Margot Fonteyn. When I was her age I was in a hospital bed recovering from the attack. It was so ironic and painful,' Alder says. 'All my life I was dealing with people expecting so much of me. And I had those expectations of myself. 'So when I was recovering from the attack and barely able to move it was very hard for me to take. I was angry all the time.' That frustration and rage, and her gradual understanding that those emotions were not just because of the stabbing incident but spewed up from a deeper, darker place, is the central to a new documentary by Perth filmmaker Dawn Jackson, En Pointe: Dancing on a Knife, which is premiering this month at the CinefestOZ film festival in WA's South West. What began as a modest hour-long account of the trauma suffered by a young dancer and the way in which she used dance to rebuild, blossomed into a deeply moving feature-length documentary about a high-profile artistic family and the impact of fame on its youngest member. 'People used to have firm opinions about me and my family. I feel I've laid that to rest.' Floeur Alder Jackson moves between Aldous dancing in Sleeping Beauty and her daughter's convalescence during what should have been her golden years, weaving a tale in which Alder gradually comes back to life as a dancer and a choreographer, culminating in her directing her parents in a piece called Rare Earth (2004). The making of the documentary became a significant part of the recovery process, something which both surprised and unnerved Alder. 'I was much more involved in the film than I ever thought I would be. I certainly didn't think I would be narrating it,' Alder says. Jackson says there were plans for others to narrate the film, 'but we realised it had to be Floeur'. 'It was her story. We had to have her voice.' Loading The reason for the closeness of Alder to the film is that Jackson herself was training as a dancer in the mid-1980s at WAAPA while Aldous and Alan were teaching at the celebrated West Australian 'Fame' school. 'I remember Floeur being there [at WAAPA] all the time, sitting on the floor and eating snakes,' Jackson says. 'All of the students became really close to her. Her parents were busy teaching and she was an only child so we became her family. I even used to babysit for Floeur.' Around the time Jackson pivoted from dance to filmmaking, she caught a performance of Rare Earth and realised she had a great story to tell, one that had the appalling attack at its heart but opened up into other issues, such as Alder's struggle to come out from her parents' shadow. 'I was struck by Floeur's willingness to embrace her legacy after spending so much of her life grappling with it,' Jackson says. 'When she was at WAAPA the gossip was that she was getting all these great parts because of her parents. But she was getting them simply because she was bloody good.' Financing the film proved difficult and dragged the process over a decade. But it meant Jackson was able to document closely Alder's physical and emotional healing and renaissance as an artist, with her subject playing a greater role than normal for this kind of project. 'The long process gave me time to record my mother's history and her work, which became part of the film. This is not just a film. It is part of the story' says Alder. Her parents are both interviewed extensively in the documentary but did not live long enough to see its completion. While Pointe: On a Knife's Edge has all the stuff of an edge-of-the-seat crime series or podcast — we even get to an emotional meeting with the policeman who dealt with the case back in 2000 — Jackson says it is different because the story is told from the point of view of the survivor. 'So often when we watch these crime series it is about the perpetrator or the police trying to track them down,' she says. 'This deals with what Floeur went through — the attack and her healing and her fight to re-establish a career that was derailed when a random stranger decided to take out his anger on her.' Jackson also sees her film as an important contribution to the growing body of knowledge of trauma. 'Trauma was not as well understood when Floeur was attacked as it is today. It separates you from yourself,' Jackson says. For Alder, the documentary has allowed her to finally tell her story. 'It is my truth. It is nobody else's. People used to have firm opinions about me and my family. I feel I've laid that to rest. This is my story,' she says.
