Vew from the chair: Speeches of Richard WL Austin

For the last few years, my duty as Chairman of the Gallery Trustees has usually been either to introduce those who are about to open exhibitions or to thank those who have just done so. This is apt to induce, shall I say, a somewhat sycophantic approach, whereby one extolls the virtues of the opener, however tenuous, and ignores those of the works of art, however outstanding. It is a pleasant relief to be able to put paintings in place of personalities and to have the opportunity to talk about something substantial--art in general and what Churchie is doing for it by sponsoring this exhibition. To modify the opening line of Virgil's Aeneid, 'of art and a school I sing'. It is alleged with, I suspect, some degree of truth, that Herman Goering, that monster from the Third Reich, was accustomed to say, 'When I hear the word "culture", I cock my revolver'. Before we raise our voices in righteous indignation at just one more example of Teutonic barbarism, let us pause and ask ourselves how many Anglo-Saxon revolvers have been cocked, in their day, at the mention of the word art. Oscar Wilde helped to start the ball rolling when he said, 'All art is quite useless'. Whether Wilde actually meant this is open to question, because he was always prepared to say anything that might enhance his reputation for wit, even at the risk of the most blatant plagiarism. When a friend once made a specially witty remark in his presence, Wilde sighed and said, 'I wish I had thought of saying that', to which the friend replied, 'You will, Oscar, you will'. Be that as it may, his denigration of art has had, over the years, a host of followers in this country. For a long time-indeed, until comparatively recently-we seemed to suffer from a deep rooted philistinism concerning art, not surprising perhaps, when so much of our prosperity was derived from sheep's backs rather than from men's brains. This attitude of mind reached its apogee in the years just before, .between and after the two World Wars. An interest in art-let alone the practice of it-was viewed with suspicion. It was seen as sitting uneasily with the AN' Z.AC stereotype of the suntanned, silent, macho Australian male. The stereotype was, of course, far removed from reality-the average male, in fact, resembles John Howard rather than Andrew Peacock-but nevertheless it certainly dominated our thinking. Art, like white wine, in those days was seen as something more appropriate to the palate of the female of the species than to that of the male. Moreover, even among many of those who accepted the need for art, another tendency had manifested itself, namely an attitude of extreme conservatism, incapable of coming to terms with the shock of the new, or the truism that all really original art looks ugly at first. Things have changed for the better now and art is big and acceptable business, but it has certainly had much with which to contend. When it comes to contemporary art, the problem is further compounded by a breaking down of the barriers, not only between good art and bad art, but also between what is real art and what is no more than a manifestation of non artistic endeavour. I should also like to emphasise that the present day is no different from other periods in the history of art, in that great works are being produced alongside rubbish. 104