To sleep, perchance to dream

Over the years I have had a recurring ‘anxiety dream’. These types of dream are very common and have been documented by writers from Homer to Freud. No one really knows their origin or what they mean, but it is believed that they have a positive ‘release the pressure valve’ function.  Typically, the themes in these dreams relate to loss, grief or embarrassment. My usual dream has a fairly standard scenario.  There is a critical life challenge (usually an exam) that I have to complete successfully but I am thwarted by all manner of things. I can’t find the exam room, and when I eventually get there, I am late and the door is locked. If I manage to find my exam book, it is the size of the White Pages and written in a language I can’t read. As my anxiety crescendos in the dream – I wake up.

This week I had one of those dreams and it involved taking a surprise guided tour for foreign dignitaries at NGV International who had been invited by the Director to attend the NGV’s new blockbuster exhibition: ‘Capturing Coronavirus in the International Collection’. As I frantically searched the collection for relevant artworks my anxiety overwhelmed me, and I was suddenly awake. However, this gave me the opportunity to imagine what this tour could be.

After providing masks, hand sanitiser and reminding the group about social distancing, we would start in Federation Court and look at Maarten Baas’ ‘Grandfather Clock’. This quirky object reminds us that our experience of time changes depending on our circumstances. It can speed up but is more likely to slow down in a pandemic – particularly if we are socially isolated and unable to perform our daily routine.  Re-evaluating our priorities, getting caught up in memories or in rumination, and learning to be ‘in the moment’ are common consequences.

The inclusion of a real grandfather in the clock – would he choose to be ‘there’ now as an extreme form of ‘sheltering in place’ or would others have insisted that he be kept safely distant? – also connects with the vulnerability of older people at this time. At least in his isolation he has found an essential job to ‘fill in his time’!  The frail and elderly will continue to be isolated and need protection, so it is incumbent upon us to be careful and concerned about our actions. But sadly now, it is best to keep them safely sheltered and to only see them behind a protective barrier.

My next stop is the Asian Gallery. The spread of the virus from the East has generated considerable ‘commentary’ and wild conspiracy theories which will not be part of the tour. Any number of mingqi ((tomb ware) could be included for discussion but instead I have chosen the Boshanlu. This hill-shaped incense burner was used in religious rituals and commonly found during the Han Dynasty (206BCE – 220CE). The shape refers to the sacred mountains that were said to be inhabited by the Taoist immortals.  Many people (including the first emperor) sought this mountain to find the elixir of life – clearly without any success. What remains are ‘artefacts’ of the quest but not the individual who undertook it. While the elixir of life is fanciful, the idea of combatting disease and prolonging life is very important especially today – and only one contemporary emperor has suggested that disinfectants or bleach would ever be a candidate for the elixir!

Moving to the Antiquities Gallery, I am struck by the ‘Mummy portraits’.  We know nothing about the lives of the people depicted other than the period, ‘Roman Egypt’ (late 1^st BCE to early 2^nd CE), during which they lived. The portraits covered the faces of mummified bodies and CT scanning has revealed a correspondence of age and gender between mummy and image. The patrons of the portraits apparently belonged to the affluent upper classes, military personnel, civil servants and religious dignitaries. We can try and imagine the world they lived in, the families they were part of, the jobs they had, and the belief systems they subscribed to. Although they are lost to us, they are still present as people who had stories and faces – the ‘once known’. As we are confronted with ever alarming statistics about the spread and virulence of COVID-19, and image after image of plain coffins piled up and stored in refrigeration trucks, it is easy to get caught up in numbers and anonymity and lose sight of the individuals who have died.

The Medieval period provides many guiding options. In this Church-based world, we find rescuers like Saint Catherine of Alexandria or Saint Barbara.  Both saints were part of the ‘Holy Helpers’ who were called on to protect against fever and sudden death – so they should definitely be ‘here’ now.  However, if you explore the stories surrounding their existence, there is little evidence they were actually ever really ‘there’. 

A more certain ‘saintly presence’ is offered by the ‘Crucifix reliquary’ from c. 1700 Austria/Southern Germany.  This is said to contain the relics of a number of saints including: the apostle Bartholomew, and martyrs Romulus, Hippolitus, and Eustachios amongst others – a veritable mini cemetery.  In Catholic theology, it is important to remember that sacred relics must not be worshipped, because only God can be worshipped and adored. Instead, the veneration given to angels, saints, icons and relics, known as dulia, provides a conduit to God.  We can all benefit from outside assistance at times of crisis. However, with the increasing secularity of the world, the ‘rescue potential of saints’ has unfortunately become diminished and less important. The current ‘saviours’ are more likely to come from the ‘Medical Helpers’.

Walking past Mary, Lady Vere and John Ashburnham (fashionable, trend-setting Londoners) reminds me that recently we have been living in a world of influencers – people who use social media to entice us with possibilities to explore in the world. As our worlds have reduced in size due to COVID-19 social isolation, we have seen the ‘death of the influencer’ and are relying more on our own resources and those of our immediate trusted contacts.

The ‘Golden Age’ of Dutch art has many possible links to the pandemic. Joos van Craesbeeck’s ‘Death and the Old Woman’ is a confronting and obvious choice. But instead let’s stop at the two still lifes adjacent to each other. Still life paintings show opulence, possibility and consumerism but are also a reminder of the shallowness of consumption and the inevitability of death. The objects depicted are transient markers of success, and the fragility of the comestibles on display is as much a ‘clock’ as Baas’ timepiece.  Jan Davidsz De Heem’s ‘Still life with fruit’ reminds us of the abundance of choice that we were used to having before the pandemic hit. There is no hint of foraging for toilet paper or rice or pasta in a pronkstilleven – it is just ‘there’. Whereas Willem Kalf’s ‘Still life with glasses and fruit’ is a more restrained picture and resonates with our quieter and simpler life. I would suggest that the prominent unwinding of the lemon rind (a bittersweet indicator of the passing of time) provides a cautionary note about the amount of alcohol on the table and a strong reminder that self-medicating in a time of anxiety is fraught with danger.

‘The singer Farinelli and friends’ by Jacopo Amigoni is next on the list and does not need much explanation. Catching up with loved ones and enjoying friendships has been something that we have sought to capture and remember for a long time. When friends are no longer part of our immediate world it is important to have something of them to keep us connected and close. The painting, with its poetic and musical reference to departure, (La Partenza) was clearly important to Farinelli, as he took it with him when he retired to his villa in Bologna. It is not surprising that the feeling of closeness and security shared by groups of people has been challenged by social distancing, quarantine and isolation. While the virtual world has made interactions easy and convenient, it has also highlighted how much humans miss by not having immediate physical presence. Our social connections may be readily ‘virtually there’ but it does demonstrate how ‘not there’ they really are. It would be wonderful to see our friendships recorded as beautifully as Amigoni has done. Unfortunately, the desire to endlessly document and disseminate ourselves accounts for many of the regrettable and embarrassing images which circulate daily on Instagram, Snapchat and Facebook.

In the salon hang, the small painting ‘The hired assassins’ by Jean-Louis-Ernest Meissonier provokes the question: who or what is ‘there’ behind the door? We, like the assassins, are positioned on the side of anticipation and anxiety, and are hopefully equipped to deal with whatever may be on the other unknown side. Meissonier was referring to dangerous individuals who could at least be seen, overpowered and eliminated. How much more frightening is an invisible particle of indiscriminate lethality – something which may or may not even be there. Are the assassins armed with the historical equivalent of vaccination, antiviral medication or even the COVIDSafe app, so that they may feel reassured about being able to eliminate the potential killer?

Camille Pissarro’s ‘Boulevard Montmarte’ could easily be mistaken for Melbourne last winter. A bustling street scene on a cloudy day with people shopping, gambolling and using public transport in a carefree way. This is well before the words: coronavirus, wet market, border security, hand sanitiser, quarantine, social distancing (or sheltering in place), viral testing, ventilators, flattening the curve, and economic downturn became part of a vernacular that we had no real desire to learn or use. We were ‘there’ and it seems unlikely or even impossible we will be ‘there’ in that same carefree way anytime soon. Maybe it is better to look away from what we had and focus on what we have. But as time passes, how easy will it be for us to find the same enjoyment in the restricted world of Tala Madani’s ‘Lights in the living room’ with just a significant other? Or is this when we return to the Kalf still life and pour another glass of wine?

For those who are part of the vulnerable frontline workforce Francis Bacon’s ‘Study from the human body’ could almost be an OH&S poster of what to do when returning home from a workday in an uncertain world. Braving the unknown on a regular basis, with the hope that personal protective equipment will be sufficient and keep one safe, requires strength and resilience. There are often news stories about the need to ‘cleanse’ to feel safe for oneself and for others in the immediate environment. Out ‘there’ is risky and unpredictable – how can we feel certain that in ‘here’ is a safe and secure space?

Finally, Neri Oxman’s 3D-printed sculptural death masks ‘Vespers Series 3’ remind me that we live in a world that is constantly evolving and that we need to be able to adapt to the changes in our environment. The third and final collection in the ‘Vespers series’ of death masks sees Oxman, and the Mediated Matter Group she works with at MIT, explore the concept of rebirth, with a collection of five, almost colourless 3D-printed masks that function as “biological urns”. The urns are inhabited by living microorganisms that have been synthetically engineered by Oxman’s team to produce pigments and/or useful chemical substances for human augmentation, such as vitamins, antibodies or antimicrobial drugs. Viruses are small packets of genetic material that evolve over time and can be benign or malevolent. There are suggestions (possibly a conspiracy theory) that the coronavirus was synthetically created and that the scientists who made it lost control of their ability to contain it.  While Oxman’s creations are beautiful and demonstrate an extraordinary creative and technical ability, I am not reassured that this is the direction that I imagined contemporary art would head! 

When we awaken from an anxiety dream, our anxiety typically subsides rapidly as we re-acclimatise to our everyday safe world. I can only hope that this will be the situation for all of us in the not too distant future