Australian politics, society & culture


© Peter Lindbergh
The face
By Karen de Perthuis
By Patrick Hartigan
Illustration by Jeff Fisher.
Shaddap you Facebook
By Joe Dolce
By Monthly Wire
'What’s in a Face? Aspects of Portrait Photography', Art Gallery of NSW - 24 September 2011 to 5 February 2012
Art Gallery of NSW - 24 September 2011 to 5 February 2012
By Sebastian Smee
Words: Shane Maloney | Illustration: Chris Grosz
By Shane Maloney and Chris Grosz
Illustration by Jeff Fisher.
By Jo Lennan
Carolyn Burke's 'Lee Miller'
By Drusilla Modjeska
Vogue model turned photographer, bobbed muse of Man Ray and ‘unofficial’ surrealist, Lee Miller makes a challenge to her biographer that is not dissimilar to the challenge she made to those who knew her. Who was this woman of “multiple lives” who played the moderne and out-played her men? Who was behind the images she
The Work of Mutlu Çerkez
By Justin Clemens
Born in London in 1964 to Turkish Cypriot parents, Çerkez finished his studies at the Victorian College of the Arts, Melbourne, in 1987. He had his first solo exhibitions the next year, at City Gallery in Melbourne and the Australian Centre for Photography in Sydney. He has exhibited regularly in major group and solo
By Malcolm Knox
“The event that dislocated our period from the last was September 11.” “Oh-one. Twin Towers. Splatter patterns. It’s raining men, hallelujah ...” “Hush. The event to which you refer merely amplified the existing order, even accelerated its actions. No. I am referring to September 11, 2006. The so-called Anniversary
Sarah Watt's 'Look Both Ways'
By Helen Garner
On a scorching summer weekend in Adelaide, while the news is dominated by the fatalities in a train wreck, a bunch of people confront their own private, inner derailments. Meryl (Justine Clarke), a self-sabotaging artist just home from her father’s funeral, is paralysed by fantasies of disaster. Photojournalist Nick (
By Justin Clemens
A young man masturbates, his face and torso scattered across a sequence of photos. Blurry and disjointed, you never see the act itself. Passers-by are captured without knowing it, oblivious to their neighbours, strangers to themselves. Each mono-chrome expression is so singular there seems no right name for it: it is