Sleepless Nights

Author: Veronica

  • Vaginas, labiaplasty and why I think teenage girls ought to look at more than just porn for their body image ideas.

    Slightly NSFW, no actual photos of vaginas here, but there are photos of ceramic vaginas, all white. Just so you know.

    ***

    A few months ago I was watching an SBS documentary about teenage girls and their body issues relating to their vagina*. Most of the girls spoken to were ones about to undergo labiaplasty – most notably a reduction in the size of their labia minora.

    I was a bit astounded at girls wanting to cut their vagina to pieces, just to make it ‘neater’ or ‘prettier’.

    We followed their journey and by all accounts, none of the girls regretted the surgery. We won’t talk about lost nerve endings, or loss of sensation or any of the other things that they might have and not know about. How do you tell when something is missing?

    Part of the problem, I think, is that women don’t get to see vaginas very often. Of course, we’ve all probably had some access to porn, but porn stars aren’t exactly portrayals of real female beauty anyway, are they? Not to mention I’m hearing rumours that a good portion of porn stars have had labiaplasty anyway, and that girls in magazines have their vaginas airbrushed, so that only the labia majora can been seen.

    The documentary stayed with me, rattling around in the back of my brain where I keep my ‘issues to get upset about when I’ve got time’ folder.

    When I went to MONA, I was thrilled to pieces to see a wall of vaginas. All shapes and sizes, wobbly labia and all.

    Called ‘Cunts… And Other Conversations’ by artist Greg Taylor and friends, it contains 150 sculpted vaginas, all different and all brilliantly done.

    Models ranged in age from 18 to 78 and came from all kinds of religious backgrounds.

    Xanya Mamunya is a harpist who features among the works. She says of the modelling process, “It was empowering because I am from a generation that never even looked down there. I wasn’t even told about the menstrual cycle until I thought I was bleeding to death. Modelling for the exhibition made me feel that I was part of something that I think is very important – for everyone.”

    It’s a bit disconcerting to walk along a hallway whose main feature is something we’re taught not to look at too closely, but it was also really interesting. Like penises, no two vaginas are the same and honestly, I’m not sure why we’d expect them to be.

    Sadly it would seem that glossy magazines have been our go-to guide for women to try and discover what is normal, and glossy magazines are about as far removed from reality as you can get.

    I think that every teenage girl should get to look at the huge range of normal, because looking at Cunts… And Other Conversations, all I am struck by is that there is no such thing as normal. We’re all unique and that can only be a good thing.

    My only complaint is that we need a sister exhibition of 150 penises, to showcase ‘normal’ for men.

    *Yes, I know the technical term is vulva, but I found it easier to use ‘common language’ for this post.

  • Photos from the VIP opening of MONA

    Sadly I didn’t take as many photos as I would have liked to, I was too busy trying to absorb the artwork by osmosis.

    However, I got permission today to publish what I did take photos of, so I can share what I’ve got. I will definitely be taking my camera in when I go again (and again, and again – I may have a small Mona addiction).

    Probably less than a quarter of the wine that was on offer. A few hours later, there was still plenty of alcohol, but no clean glasses.

    A minuscule portion of the fruit tables.

    There were too many people to photograph much of the food, which in hindsight was a shame. But that’s okay.

    The artwork is equally stunning.

    A room called Kryptos, dimly lit with a mirrored roof and binary code along the walls. I loved it.

    Plants in hanging glass baskets – I suspect half of the art here is in the shadow they cast.

    Loop System Quintet, 2005. Conrad Shawcross – mechanical arms that spin and paint with light – the machines spin to the left and the art they produce is shown on the opposite wall. One motor, one axle, five machines spinning at the same time, with a lightbulb on each of them that spins at different speeds.

    And this is the only photo I took in the ‘Sex and Death’ exhibit. P XIII 2008 Berlinde DeBruychere

    Lustmord 1994. Jenny Holzer. I found these so beautiful. Words written on the backs of people and photographed. Ten sets of four each.

    Thank You to MONA for allowing me to publish photos. Artist information will be added shortly, as soon as I can get hold of it.

  • Tasmanian Times

    My thoughts on MONA FOMA and the Mona opening are up on the Tasmanian Times now.

    You can see the article here.

    There are four very different perspectives, mine is the final one.

    Thanks to Lindsay Tuffin for publishing it for me.

  • MONA opening. Also, say yes to parties thrown by millionaires.

    Trying to find the words to write about the Mona opening is like stammering adjectives and spluttering lots. I’m a writer, but I’m having trouble articulating what the entire experience was like. Surreal comes to mind – and I know surreal is a word overused, but surreal is about all I can drum up.

    Thanks to ABC radio and our titles of ‘Micro Critic’ we got tickets to the VIP opening, the giant party thrown by millionaire David Walsh. I was already a bit stunned by the socialite dresses and name dropping going on around me, so I shouldn’t have been shocked to see upwards of 80 lobster tails on a rotisserie as I headed down to the tennis courts and museum entrance. Glasses of champagne were handed out as we walked past and I, for the first time in a long time, had a drink as we walked.

    Once inside the museum, we collected our O Device (an iPod touch, uploaded with Mona software) and walked down three stories of stairs into the depths of the museum. Open rock faces had been left exposed and I was stupidly pleased about that. There is something about the beauty of sandstone walls that makes me happy.

    I’m not sure what I was expecting, but a giant party in the foyer area probably wasn’t it. Maybe trays of hors d’oeuvres and a glass of wine before we walked around, but the scale of the catering left me a bit shocked.

    I have expensive tastes, on a bread and butter budget. Even this was beyond what I’d expected. Tables filled with wine glasses waiting to be filled. An open bar with every conceivable drink you could want. A table piled high with nothing but fresh bread and a table next to it with cheeses. Salads served in paper cones, dished up from giant silver bowls. Prosciutto sliced in front of you. A giant blue fin tuna, just sitting on ice – an accompaniment to the finest sashimi. Hundreds of oysters on ice. Russian caviar worth $200 for 25g, being handed out on spoons and washed down with good vodka shots (that I declined).

    Like I said, astounding. Really, for me, a once in a lifetime experience.

    The museum is indescribable. Sex and death combine with art to create something that is offensive, shocking, breathtaking and brilliant. I wasn’t offended, but the wall of vaginas appeared to upset some of the men. 151 vaginas were modeled, while a master carver carved them (we think in wax, but it’s a bit unclear) and then cast them to display. The effect is astounding, as you walk down a hallway with a line of vulvas looking at you.

    Personally, that was one of my favourite exhibits and something that every teenage girl should see. The range of normal is beautiful and not something we get to see often. I think it does however need a companion work of 151 penises, but that’s my bias coming through.

    I loved it. The whole experience was something I doubt I’ll get to repeat ever again and I am intensely excited at the thought of showing it all to Nathan, who is staunchly anti-artwank and who is looking forward to seeing it.

    Even more than that, I am really interested to see what this does for Tasmania as a whole. We’ve now got one of the best private museums in the world and I couldn’t be more proud.

    I ended up getting to chat to some very interesting people, care of introductions from Stephen Estcourt. The very lovely Lindsay Tuffin and Richard Flanagan for starters. Both incredibly interesting men that I’d look forward to talking with again. I’m a fan of both of their work, Lindsay’s website is excellent and Richard’s writing, well. Brilliant comes to mind. I also met Leo Schofield and his wife, who are both lovely.

    I also talked to Kylie Kwong for a bit too and did an excellent job of not fangirling at her.

    It’s going to take a while to be able to fall back into real life after this. We’re on the radio again on Monday – 8.40am, live as far as I know. You can listen to that live streaming with this link.

  • Grinderman. Also, how awesome has my week been? #936mofo

    Backstory for what I’ve been doing this week.

    From being deafened by the Red Rivals, to discovering Lincoln LeFevre, to spectacular classical composed piano playing from Phillip Glass, to rocking out with The Break and Grinderman, I think I’ve just had a week that can’t be beaten.

    I haven’t researched any of the bands before I saw them, which meant that nearly every band has surprised me in some way. I wanted to go into every performance with an open mind, and I’ve managed that all right.

    Mona Foma continues and last night was The Break and Grinderman.

    It was. Well. I don’t think there are enough adjectives to describe how amazing it was.

    The Break – Ex-Midnight Oil, minus Peter Garrett and plus Brian Ritchie was heaps beachier than I expected, but psychedelic surf music is what they do and the crowd wasn’t disappointed. They were brilliant and I’m fairly sure Brian Ritchie just brought yellow pants back into fashion.

    Nick Cave with Grinderman was the headline event and you could feel it in the room as the start time got closer. I pushed my way to the front and somehow, eventually, ended up 2 rows from the front, albeit to the side rather a lot.

    His stage presence is phenomenal, my GOD that man has some energy. He fed off the crowd and the crowd, in return, fed off him.

    We haven’t seem much interaction with the crowd so far and really, it’s been the only thing missing. Nick Cave stood on the barriers, using the fans hands to steady himself. He leapt, he danced, he sung. It was, so so brilliant. Absolutely unmissable.

    If you’re a fan of Cave and you get a chance to see Grinderman, DO IT. You won’t regret it for a moment.

    I did have a small awkward moment during the encore performances, with a group of older middle aged women, stroking my hair and telling me how beautiful I was. Okay, they were very drunk, but still. Weird.

    And my award for tweets that probably shouldn’t have been read aloud on the Radio goes to this one:

    It was true though. No wonder the women were all screaming during the songs.

    Or maybe it had something to do with the buttons Cave was undoing the hotter he got. Either either.

    Big shout out to his roadies, who were complete professionals. A can of beer was thrown and Cave flicked it away with his hand, spilling beer everywhere. The roadies and their energy had it cleaned up before most people had realised what had gone on. The darted all around the stage, retrieving thrown microphones and percussion instruments. They also did a great job of dealing with the one very drunk guy who jumped on stage and played air guitar along with the band. He was allowed a minute or two and then whipped backstage and then back out into the crowd with a small shove.

    It was an absolutely spectacular night, even if my hearing hasn’t quite recovered this morning.