George Raftopoulos MYTHIC NATION text by John Burns

MYTHIC
 NATION:
 George
 Raftopoulos
 does
 rebel,
 without
 the
 clause.
 
 

By
 John
 Burns
 

I
  decree
  that
  it
  is
  the
  civic
  duty
  of
  every
  living
  Australian
  to
  be
  a
  legend
  in
  their
  own
  minds.
  This
 
statement
 does
 of
 course
 carry
 with
 it
 the
 proviso
 that
 we
 simply
 pause
 for
 a
 moment
 to
 dream
 and
 
not
  become
  a
  bunch
  of
  wankers.
  Unfortunately
  too
  many
  Australians
  believe
  that
  they
  are
  living
 
legends
 24/7.
 This
 has
 led
 to
 the
 creation
 of
 a
 whole
 new
 demographic
 that
 is
 somehow
 
 under
 the
 
impression
 that
 up
 is
 the
 new
 down,
 black
 is
 the
 new
 grey
 and
 that
 the
 future
 is
 merely
 an
 acquired
 
skill.
 With
 Mythic
 Nation,
 George
 Raftopoulos
 does
 what
 he
 does
 best
 and
 confronts
 the
 bullshit
 of
 
contemporary
 life
 with
 a
 mixture
 of
 anger
 and
 mischief.
 The
 result
 is
 not
 for
 the
 crowd
 funded,
 but
 
rather
 the
 self-­‐emancipated.
 The
 answers
 found
 are
 not
 available
 by
 multiple
 choice,
 but
 through
 an
 
unequivocal
 “let
 me
 think
 about
 it”.
 

It
 is
 easy
 to
 fall
 into
 the
 trap
 of
 being
 a
 buzz
 word.
 George
 Raftopoulos
 is
 currently
 being
 touted
 as
 
“a
  rebel”.
  On
  the
  surface
  it’s
  a
  good
  call,
  but
  it
  possesses
  its
  own
  set
  of
  liabilities.
  My
  favourite
  art
 
rebel
 was
 the
 one
 played
 by
 Tony
 Hancock
 in
 the
 1960’s
 film
 The
 Rebel.
 In
 that
 film
 Hancock
 fooled
 
critics
 blinded
 by
 a
 love
 of
 the
 pretentious
 into
 thinking
 that
 he
 was
 the
 next
 big
 thing.
 The
 problem
 
being
 that
 Hancock’s
 artist
 believed
 he
 was
 the
 next
 big
 thing.
 In
 the
 end
 the
 genius
 was
 accidental,
 
the
  critics
  escaped
  and
  the
  credits
  rolled
  on.
  Being
  a
  rebel,
  even
  a
  faux
  rebel
  was
  a
  novelty
  in
  the
 
1960’s.
  Now
  even
  the
  guy
  who
  sleeps
  in
  a
  wheelie
  bin
  wants
  a
  piece
  of
  the
  action.
  Whilst
  Tony
 
Hancock’s
 art
 rebellion
 was
 merely
 a
 typographical
 error,
 George’s
 works
 are
 deliberate
 statements
 
of
 intent.
 The
 danger
 in
 calling
 George
 Raftopoulos
 rebellious
 is
 not
 that
 it
 highlights
 the
 ignorance
 
of
  the
  “artirati”
  but
  that
  it
  places
  George’s
  art
  into
  the
  same
  accepted
  head
  space
  as
  pieces
  you’d
 
normally
  find
  in
  the
  foyer
  of
  your
  local
  dentist.
  That
  doesn’t
  really
  make
  George
  sound
  all
  that
 
anarchic,
 but
 that’s
 
 part
 of
 the
 plan.
 

In
 a
 career
 now
 spanning
 several
 decades
 Raftopoulos
 can
 lay
 claim
 to
 consistently
 producing
 work
 
adored
  by
  the
  art
  market.
  But
  since
  freeing
  himself
  from
  being
  an
  “artist
  on
  demand”
  he
  has
  been
 
able
  to
  shift
  the
  stakes
  much
  higher.
  The
  works
  in
  Mythic
  Nation
  are
  the
  epitome
  of
  the
  Trojan
 
horse.
  They
  enter
  into
  the
  contemporary
  art
  establishment
  using
  the
  same
  tropes
  as
  the
  brand
 
names,
 but
 they
 mock
 the
 gatekeepers.
 This
 art
 won’t
 please
 the
 perpetual
 first
 year
 undergraduate
 
who
  is
  all
  wide
  eyed
  and
  “wow”.
  It
  actively
  fights
  against
  the
  humourless
  juvenilia
  cultivated
  by
  an
 
art
  world
  populated
  with
  the
  dictates
  of
  the
  politically
  correct.
 
  George’s
  genius
  is
  to
  parody
  this
 
critical
 affectation
 whilst
 offering
 the
 audience
 a
 deeper
 artistic
 experience.
 
 Museum
 Quality
 (Oil
 on
 
canvas,
 2014)
 like
 I
 could
 have
 been
 a
 Jockey
 
 from
 last
 year’s
 Beaux
 Monde
 exhibition
 is
 an
 example
 
of
 a
 personal
 work
 from
 George
 that
 also
 invites
 broader
 interpretation.
 There
 are
 references
 to
 his
 
halcyon
  days
  as
  a
  gallery
  "gun
  for
  hire",
  the
  drifting
  colours
  of
  his
  youth.
  But
  this
  is
  youthful
 
optimism
  thrown
  into
  the
  blender.
  Like
  a
  vision
  on
  the
  road
  to
  Damascus,
  we
  are
  caught
  up
  in
  the
 
maelstrom.
  A
  young
  face
  stands
  to
  the
  right
  of
  centre,
  less
  hero
  more
  struggling
  bystander.
  In
  the
 
classic
 version
 of
 the
 heroes’
 journey
 this
 would
 be
 the
 turning
 point
 that
 galvanises
 the
 protagonist
 
to
 move
 further.
 Instead
 he
 seems
 to
 reach
 to
 something
 that
 isn’t
 really
 there,
 an
 alternative
 to
 the
 
myth.
 For
 George
 it’s
 about
 challenging
 the
 stereotype
 of
 the
 image
 maker
 and
 the
 style
 council,
 and
 
it’s
 the
 same
 for
 the
 audience
 too.
 What
 can
 be
 seen
 as
 “right”
 is
 not
 a
 sanctified
 agreement;
 but
 a
 
fragile
 uncertainty.
 

Contemporary
 life
 has
 lost
 the
 appearance
 of
 a
 rough
 edge.
 Everyone
 can
 have
 an
 edited
 profile
 and
 
selected
  resume.
  It’s
  possible
  to
  become
  totally
  inert
  and
  blameless.
  The
  bad
  guys
  know
  how
  to
 
point
  a
  camera
  whilst
  the
  good
  guys
  stage
  an
  event.
  Activism
  increasingly
  becomes
  less
  about
  a
 
spontaneous
 act
 of
 disenchantment
 and
 more
 a
 performance
 of
 righteous
 indignation.
 The
 problem
 
is
 not
 that
 we
 want
 to
 make
 the
 world
 a
 better
 place;
 it’s
 just
 that
 we
 like
 to
 paint
 ourselves
 the
 hero
 
in
  every
  picture.
  George’s
  Raft
  of
  the
  Medusa
  illustrates
  that
  we
  are
  characters
  surrounded
  by
  our
 
own
  mythology.
  In
  an
  image
  reminiscent
  of
  a
  classical
  work,
  a
  ship
  of
  George’s
  own
  devising
  sinks
 
under
  the
  weight
  of
  its
  incompetent
  crew.
  Superficially
  it's
  a
  darkly
  funny
  cartoon.
  As
  an
 
observation,
  it
  is
  Greece
  facing
  financial
  ruin
  as
  refugees
  mass
  at
  its
  borders.
  The
  figures’
  grasp
  at
 
sails
 or
 stand
 ambivalent
 as
 the
 ship
 goes
 down.
 
 But
 it’s
 not
 about
 refugees
 or
 the
 Greeks;
 it’s
 about
 
the
 audience
 looking
 on.
 In
 a
 world
 in
 which
 heroism
 is
 measured
 by
 which
 side
 you
 take,
 we
 have
 a
 
conundrum.
 Who
 do
 we
 support,
 the
 migrants
 or
 the
 locals
 who
 can’t
 feed
 their
 family?
 The
 ship
 is
 
sinking,
  so
  make
  your
  choice.
  The
  work
  highlights
  that
  life
  is
  more
  than
  just
  a
  one
  headline
  event.
 
People
 are
 more
 complex
 than
 slogans
 on
 a
 banner
 can
 redeem
 or
 condemn.
 
 

This
 is
 not
 the
 elevator
 music
 the
 art
 establishment
 craves.
 Contemporary
 art
 is
 normally
 about
 the
 
blame
  game.
  It
  focuses
  on
  the
  hero,
  victim,
  and
  perpetrator
  as
  though
  their
  characters
  are
  one
 
dimensional.
  It
  creates
  a
  world
  of
  cry-­‐babies
  and
  lost
  souls.
  George
  isn’t
  trying
  to
  engage
  with
  the
 
home
 decorator
 market
 either,
 this
 art
 will
 throw
 your
 wine
 rack
 off
 the
 wall.
 
 Mythic
 Nation
 is
 the
 
difficult
 moral
 spaces
 we
 try
 to
 avoid
 dealing
 with
 lest
 our
 soul
 prove
 corrupt.
 It
 isn’t
 about
 listening
 
to
 an
 Eagles
 record;
 it’s
 about
 visiting
 a
 World
 War
 one
 “No
 man’s
 land”.
 
 

The
 work
 that
 probably
 best
 sums
 up
 Mythic
 Nation
 is
 AESXYLUS.
 
 For
 those
 of
 us
 with
 memories
 of
 
earnest
 English
 professors
 AESXYLUS
 or
 Aeschylus
 is
 a
 key
 player
 in
 ancient
 Greek
 theatre.
 The
 piece
 
engages
 us
 like
 a
 freeze
 frame
 from
 the
 act
 of
 a
 play.
 
 It
 could
 be
 a
 play;
 it
 could
 be
 a
 scene
 from
 the
 
everyday.
  With
  the
  amount
  of
  reality
  TV
  going
  on
  these
  days,
  it
  is
  hard
  to
  tell
  fact
  from
  fiction.
  As
 
with
  many
  of
  George’s
  works
  we
  are
  enacting
  a
  pun.
  This
  is
  life
  and
  we
  are
  “caught
  in
  the
  act”
  of
 
mythology.
  But
  this
  is
  the
  space
  behind
  the
  fiction.
  Day
  glow
  coloured
  figures
  are
  sketched
  into
 
shape
 to
 become
 a
 deeper
 presence
 in
 the
 room.
 We
 can
 see
 multiple
 perspectives;
 there
 is
 a
 sense
 
of
  depth,
  but
  not
  in
  three
  dimensions.
  What
  we
  are
  looking
  at
  is
  the
  life
  that
  exists
  under
  the
 
security
 mythology
 provides.
 George
 leaves
 us
 to
 look
 at
 our
 flawed
 selves,
 and
 as
 my
 father
 would
 
say
 “there’s
 nought
 wrong
 with
 that”.
 Behind
 our
 myths,
 we
 are
 not
 heroic,
 we
 are
 human
 and
 that
 
is
  our
  value.
  Prior
  to
  Shakespeare,
  Aeschylus
  was
  developing
  Greek
  drama
  from
  a
  chorus
  of
  banal
 
fiction,
 into
 a
 theatre
 of
 intimate
 stories.
 For
 both
 George
 and
 AESXYLUS,
 living
 is
 not
 about
 big
 sets
 
and
 amateur
 theatrics.
 Instead
 our
 greatness
 is
 seen
 when
 our
 humanity
 shines
 through.
 
 

I
  should
  warn
  you
  now
  that
  if
  you
  enjoy
  masturbating
  to
  the
  sound
  of
  your
  own
  ego,
  George
 
Raftopoulos
 is
 not
 for
 you.
 Mythic
 Nation
 doesn’t
 reward
 the
 cardboard
 rebel.
 It
 is
 a
 little
 less
 photo
 
opportunity
 “cleverism”
 and
 more
 old
 school
 self-­‐reflection.
 This
 is
 not
 art
 that
 says
 “look
 at
 me”
 but
 
rather
  “look
  through
  me”.
  The
  message
  is
  for
  generation
  US.
  We
  all
  contribute
  to
  the
  problem,
  get
 
over
  it.
  George
  Raftopoulos
  could
  quite
  sensibly
  have
  moved
  to
  the
  central
  coast
  and
  listened
  to
 
wind
  chimes
  a
  long
  time
  ago.
  Instead
  George
  chose
  to
  fight
  on.
  If
  that
  makes
  him
  a
  rebel,
  I
  can
 
accept
  that.
  Being
  a
  rebel
  today
  is
  not
  about
  aspiring
  to
  being
  a
  legend
  in
  your
  own
  lunch
  time,
 
wearing
  a
  beret
  or
  ordering
  latte.
  Being
  a
  legend
  is
  about
  fucking
  with
  the
  trend
  of
  baubles
  for
 
blowjobs.
 That’s
 what
 makes
 these
 works
 dangerous.
 They
 are
 not
 weighed
 down
 by
 the
 rumour
 of
 
their
  own
  enigma.
  If
  they
  are
  a
  myth
  then
  they
  are
  Raftopia,
  an
  “uncareful”
  mix
  of
  Utopia
  and
 

Dystopia
 that
 simultaneously
 disturbs
 and
 reassures
 you
 enough
 to
 want
 to
 do
 something
 other
 than
 
crawl
 up
 and
 die.