TOM WAITS IN MAITLAND

TOM WAITS IN MAITLAND

When we arrived in Australia at the end of the 1970s one of the first things we did was rent a TV set. And one of our first encounters with Australian television was the Don Lane Show. The particular program I have in mind is Lane’s interview with Tom Waits in late April 1979, in anticipation of his Australian tour.1 Smoking and spreading ash from his cigarette all over the studio and his host’s trousers, with a gravelly voice, a drunken mumble, a porkpie hat, funny and anarchic, Waits was mesmerising and outrageous.

And so, a few decades later, to that child of the 70s, Joe Eisenberg’s swan-song at the Maitland Regional Art Gallery and his equally cheeky request: “I would like to have the biggest, contemporary, best, Tom Waits’ The piano has been drinking (not me) work on paper exhibition created in part by you for the greater good of the art world!!” Trust Joe and his almost 170 artists to turn the song’s gloomy scenario into something fresh, vital, humorous even, and into an exhibition that looks like a snapshot of the very best in contemporary Australian art.

For the benefit of the very young “The Piano Has Been Drinking (Not Me)” was one of the songs on the Small Change album, released in July 1976 on the Asylum Records label. It’s a skid row travelogue, a song steeped in whiskey and atmosphere in which Waits illuminates a dark world of bars and all-night diners, an Edward Hopper painting world. On the All Music website Bill Janovitz quotes Waits telling interviewer Bill Flanagan about how Small Change came to be: “I was in Europe for the first time. I felt like a soldier far away from home and drunk on the corner with no money, lost. I had a hotel key and I didn’t know where I was.” 2 Although they have not changed their heightened bathos in decades, it seems to me Tom Waits’ songs were the Dadaist anthems of the 1970s generation, with the music, the lyrics and the performance going hand in hand to create the distinctive sound we’ve admired for such a long time. The final ‘’stanzas’’ in our song go like this -

And you can’t find your waitress With a geiger counter And she hates you and your friends And you just can’t get served without her

And the box-office is drooling And the bar stools are on fire And the newspapers were fooling And the ash-trays have retired

‘Cause the piano has been drinking The piano has been drinking The piano has been drinking

Not me, not me, not me, not me, not me.3

What is the common thread of The piano has been drinking (not me), a large and unruly exhibition inspired by such despondent and chaotic music? It is, I would say, a homage to the creative narrative of two inspired individuals – Tom Waits, the musician and Joe Eisenberg, the curator and director par excellence.

There are distinct themes that bind groups of artworks, woven together through visual association and conceptual threads. What can be said in general is that the works are small in scale but powerful in imagination. The deceptively simple idea has produced an engagement with the song’s content by the direct or oblique representation that has taken a multiplicity of

forms, all captivating and all enhanced by the emotional personal link with the music, with Joe, with the gallery and the local community.

There are works which are delicate like a shivering mirage scribbled on paper by Alexander Arcus, Cressida Goddard, Ian Westacott and Fran Wachtel.

There are works full of abstract expressive power by Craig Gough, Adrian Lockhart, Kiera O’Toole, Peter Poulet, Paul Selwood and Dick Watkins.

There are figurative works unfolding like a story by Salvatore Zofrea, Juliet Ackery, George Gittoes, Pamela Griffith, Greg Leong, Euan Macleod, Wendy Sharpe and Rachel Milne.

There are enigmatic photographs by Lucy Barker, Carla Feltham, Deborah Pauuwe, Greg Weight and Mark Tedeschi.

There are many images of pianos by John Bloomfield, Gail Burrows, Tallulah Cunningham, Paul Connor, Michael Bell, Elisabeth Cummings, Robyn Gordon and Debra Luccio.

There are cool works full of mysterious words and musical notes by Heather Ellyard, Nicola Hensel, Ron Royes, Joanna Kambourian & Darren Bryant, Charlotte Drake-Brockman and Richard Tipping.

There are weird and wonderful creatures imagined by Dongwang Fan, Marie Hagerty, Helen Hopcroft, Lisa Kirkpatrick, Robyn & Eric Werkhoven and Reg Mombassa.

The piano has been drinking (not me) is an encyclopaedia of media: conté used by Tony Ameneiro, acrylic by Suzanne Archer and Vivienne Binns, etching by Bob Baird and Christina Cordero, ink by Charles Blackman and Helen Eager, linocut by GW Bot, pencil and graphite by Mostyn BramleyMoore, sand and pigment by Kate Briscoe, handcoloured collagraph by Tanya Crothers, digital print by Vivienne Dadour, pastel by Robert Dickerson, relief print cast by Ruth Faerber, synthetic polymer by Christopher Hodges, watercolour by Annette Iggulden, woodblock by Roslyn Kean, giclée by Mark Kimber, charcoal by Peter Kingston and Vicki Varvaressos, gouache by Victor Majzner, tempera by Glen Murray and, rather intriguingly, pianola roll and LED lighting by Cheryl Farrell, “1080 tiny stones arranged according to the laws of chance’’ by Lezlie Tilley, and discarded library book pages and wool by Ahn Wells.

A singer’s sound and an artist’s rejoinder would be a good way to describe this exhibition. With the added dimension of the reason for this synaesthetic exercise: our response to Joe Eisenberg who, as always, swept us in his embrace. Because of this, the artists’ responses have gone beyond the gift of a work of art into personal comments, some as touching as the art itself.

Some works are about Joe and the way his friendship touched their life. Suzanne Archer says “for one Sag from another (that’s Sagittarius not a reference to our aging selves!) - Time Waits for no Man but Tom Waits for Joe.’’ John Bloomfield remembers “my recollection of exhibiting with Joe in the past includes the celebration that followed the opening…and the next day required the severe reconstitution of all - over - Coffee and Cigarettes.’’ Robert Dickerson, who presented the art gallery with a pastel called The last post, offers “What needs to be said about Joe Eisenberg. There will be trumpets playing at his swansong, that is for sure.”

Heather Ellyard wrote a Dithyramb for Joe that goes like this:

It’s the piano has been drinking while the player plays goodbye and riffs a heaving last hurrah. Not me, not me, not me, he sings the sunset down. It’s the piano has been drinking not me he sings with one last Yiddish sigh minor key and almost satisfied.

Col Jordan is inspired to write a little poem as well,

The piano has been drinking and this the star it saw it circulates in heaven and has not the slightest flaw.

While Hanna Kay composed an eccentric ditty:

my dancing shoes are idle ‘cause the carpet needs a haircut ‘cause the floor has been drinking Not me.

There are many heartfelt thank-yous. Annette Iggulden comments “magnanimous, generous to a fault and as Joe Eisenberg himself wrote ‘who is counting when you are having art fun?’” Giselle Penn and Nathan Keogh observe that their work represents “a reflection of my feelings towards Joe and the time that I have known him. I have been amused and inspired by his extremely unconventional approach to life. He is one of those special people we meet in life whom we become proud to know.’’ Judith White believes that “the Joe Eisenberg phenomena is like a rock being dropped into a still pond, sending out ripples that will reverberate for many generations.’’ Some remarks are about how the art came to be. Alexander Arcus explains “in this print I have endeavored to translate into a simple line image a narrative that has no physical form or shape but a strong emotive value for me. I made the paper from the inner bark of the paper mulberry trees that I grow in my garden.’’ Vivienne Binns’ Key space is, she describes, “made on lovely handmade paper from Japan, fragile and tough, with a favourite long haired liner brush and acrylic.’’

A few artists are contrary, arguing (playfully) against what they were asked to do. John Bartley was motivated by a different song: “I have gone down a more melancholy path, inspired by a rather smoky Frank Sinatra version of ‘One more for my Baby (and one more for the road)’ at the Royal Festival Hall in 1962.’’ Michelle Collocott’s Friendship celebration A is “jazz inspired in the placement of colour and surface’’. Also relating to jazz is Craig Gough who says “Block chords and the structures in the work, references the cool jazz sounds of New York to where Combo returned.” A different take on musical taste comes from Alun Leach-Jones who challenges: “this work is for Joe Eisenberg who I hope, much like me prefers Mozart and Handel to Tom Waits.”

David Fairbairn connects his whimsical work with other possibilities: “the lyrics in the Tom Waits song made it possible to imagine a ‘head’ (rather than a portrait) that was illuminated from behind and had a somewhat Jean Genet desperation and introspective feel to the image.’’ Pamela Griffith’s California cool recalls her visits to Sebastopol (California), Tom Waits’ home territory and how for her “if you read David Talbot’s bestselling book Season of the Witch you will get some idea of the background to Waits inspiration and culture.’’

Dongwang Fan turns his comments into an exotic story about “a dancing Chinese dragon [that] is coming to Maitland invited by Joe. The Chinese folk religion believes the dragons are just, benevolent, but also fearsome and powerful in battling against evil spirits to protect its believers and bring them wealth and good fortune.” Also relating to things Chinese is Greg Leong’s High Tea at the Palace (from The Asian Century) in which, he explains “the main figures in this tableau however are two empresses from a former time taking tea. Born in 1835, Cixi the Empress Dowager ruled the Chinese government for 47 years ‘til she died in 1908. Queen Victoria (1819 – 1901) ascended the British throne in 1837, when Cixi was but 2 years old. The British empress started her long reign when her empire began to reap the benefits of the Opium Wars. The question is, 175 plus years on, whose palace is this High Tea being enjoyed at?’’

Tracy Luff writes a brief Chinese poem:

梨 (li) Li is simply the word for pear in Chinese It symbolises longevity or immortality. In Chinese, Li also means to leave. So when the Piano has been drinking And things go pear-shaped, It is time to go.

How is it possible that there are so many reactions, styles, comments and inspirations? How come everyone felt comfortable to interpret the request and the music as they wished? How is it that a plea for a work based on a song by Tom Waits elicited such divergent responses as the sedate Teapot and honey by John Bokor, the riotous literary interpretation of local girl Nell and the introspective Left-handed self portrait by Tom Carment? The freedom to respond as they wished has made artists happy to engage and to experiment with manipulated images, deeply saturated colours, glowing sensual marks and graffiti-like ephemeral syntax.

Many works in this show alter or revisit our view of the world, representing it not as we ‘know’ it to be, but rather as we innately sense or imagine it to be. That is the transformative gift of good art that taps the intersection of personal histories and distant idioms.

The magic of a public gallery like Maitland rests on many elements. Some are its intellectual and artistic assets such as the collection, exhibitions, scholarship and public programs. Some are about its capacity to tell stories and reflect the history of the local communities. A significant element in its success is that visitors like being entertained and fed and want to spend money in sophisticated gift shops. Often a gallery is a special place for contemplation, separate from day-to-day concerns, an oasis in our very busy lives. Most importantly, visitors and communities are likely to drift away unless an art museum can connect with them emotionally. Sir Nicholas Serota, director of Britain’s Tate galleries, describes his museum as “a forum as much as a treasure box”. How well this applies to the Maitland Regional Art Gallery!

Often it takes many decades for art museums to find their place in the community, to belong. Maitland Regional Art Gallery has a long history both as a physical structure and as a collection. The awe-inspiring design of the government architect, Colonel W. L. Vernon, served as Maitland Technical College from 1910 to1987. This Federation Gothic building became Maitland Regional Art Gallery

in 2003 and was enhanced in 2009 by an award winning extension and renovation.

It’s a much loved local institution with an outstanding collection that started in 1957, and boasts works by many of the best such as William Dobell, Margaret Olley, George Baldessin, Charles Blackman, Brett Whiteley, Tim Leura Tjapaltjarri, Sidney Nolan, Tim Storrier, James Gleeson, Martin Sharp, Salvatore Zofrea, John Olsen, Euan Macleod, Ken Whisson, Dennis Nona and Lloyd Rees.

At 40, this is a grown-up regional gallery, a demonstration of pride, ambition as well as community trust that has found its place in the national art ecology. In the past decade, through Joe Eisenberg’s leadership Maitland Regional Art Gallery has clicked into the unique place of substantial art galleries in NSW.

In the many years I’ve known and admired Joe, I felt he has been a subscriber to the view expressed by Chuck Close, the master of print-making who said “problem solving is greatly overvalued in our society. Problem creation is much more interesting’’.4 There are seldom grand narratives or epic tales surrounding Joe’s cultural exertions. There are lots of questions, there are complicated issues, philosophical monologues, a degree of confusion, a general whirlwind of creative problems resolved by creative magic. And, most importantly, there was and is great generosity of spirit. This exhibition, full of life, enthusiasm and talent is a round of applause for Joe the magician from the people he admires and enjoys most – artists. It is, at the same time, a guide and companion to contemporary Australian art, an image bank to some of our very best. I guess we might never recover from the culture shock of Joe Eisenberg’s departure. His twenty years in Armidale and ten years in Maitland transformed two average cities into hubs of artistic activity. We will miss his irresistible enthusiasm and energy, his vision, his benevolent and civilised dictatorship, his generous embrace and inclusiveness, all echoed in the provocative conversations of this sweeping and eccentric exhibition, The piano has been drinking (not me), that pays tribute to his work.

ENDNOTES

1 Tom Waits Fan (website), http://www.tomwaitsfan.com/ 2 Bill Flanagan, Written in My Soul, Conversations with Rock’s Great Songwriters,

Contemporary Books, Chicago 1987, quoted on All Music (website), http://www.allmusic.com/ 3 Lyrics by TOM WAITS © BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC 4 Terrie Sultan, Chuck Close: Prints Process and Collaboration, Prestel,

Germany, 2014, p.91

by Anna Waldmann Art Advisor