The Radical Heart of Australian Modernism: A Personal Journey Through 'Always Modern: Radical Nurture'
What happens when art, rebellion, and family collide? That’s the question at the core of Always Modern: Radical Nurture, Lily Mora’s latest exhibition at the Heide Museum of Modern Art. But this isn’t just another art show—it’s a deeply personal exploration of Australia’s modernist roots, filtered through the lens of a curator whose own family history is intertwined with the story she’s telling. Personally, I think this is what makes the exhibition so compelling: it’s not just about the art; it’s about the people, the relationships, and the radical ideas that fueled a movement.
A Bohemian Circle and Its Legacy
The Heide Circle, a group of artists who gathered at Heide in the 1950s and 60s, were more than just a collective—they were a family of misfits, united by their rejection of conventional norms. What many people don’t realize is that this wasn’t just a place where art was made; it was a sanctuary where artists like Mirka Mora, Sidney Nolan, and Joy Hester could live, experiment, and challenge the status quo. John and Sunday Reed, the patrons of Heide, weren’t just collectors—they were enablers of creativity, providing food, shelter, and financial support to artists who society often overlooked.
From my perspective, this is where the exhibition truly shines. Lily Mora doesn’t just showcase the art; she delves into the ecosystem that made it possible. The Reeds’ generosity wasn’t just about patronage; it was about creating a space where artists could thrive without the constraints of traditional expectations. If you take a step back and think about it, this was a radical act in itself—a rejection of the individualistic, competitive art world in favor of something more communal and nurturing.
Motherhood, Art, and the Unapologetic Woman
One thing that immediately stands out is the exhibition’s focus on motherhood, particularly through the lens of Mirka Mora. As a Holocaust survivor, a non-conformist, and a mother, Mirka defied the expectations of her time. She wasn’t just a loving grandmother; she was a woman who prioritized her art, even if it meant challenging societal norms. Lily’s commentary on this is particularly insightful: she highlights how Mirka’s refusal to be defined solely by motherhood was revolutionary.
What this really suggests is that the tension between motherhood and artistic ambition isn’t a modern dilemma—it’s been there all along. Mirka’s cherub-like mother and baby motifs aren’t just cute; they’re a statement about the complexity of identity. Personally, I find this fascinating because it challenges the idea that women must choose between their roles. Mirka didn’t just balance them; she integrated them, proving that creativity and care aren’t mutually exclusive.
The Playful and the Profound
A detail that I find especially interesting is Mirka’s playful side, which Lily describes with such fondness. From teaching her grandchildren pranks to involving them in her art, Mirka’s approach to life was as much about joy as it was about rebellion. This playfulness isn’t just a footnote in her story—it’s central to understanding her art. Her works, filled with whimsy and humor, are a testament to her belief in the transformative power of creativity.
This raises a deeper question: Can art be both playful and profound? The Heide Circle certainly thought so. Sidney Nolan’s Head of Rimbaud, dismissed by critics as resembling French cheese, and Charles Blackman’s cardboard cutouts, originally toys for his children, both challenge us to rethink what art can be. What makes this particularly fascinating is how these artists blurred the lines between the serious and the whimsical, reminding us that art doesn’t always have to be solemn to be meaningful.
Friendship, Love, and the Modernist Spirit
What many people don’t realize is that at the heart of Australian modernism was a deep sense of community. The friendships between the artists and the Reeds weren’t just professional—they were personal. The drawings Mirka gifted to John and Sunday, the summers they spent together in Aspendale, all point to a bond that went beyond art. This is where the exhibition’s title, Radical Nurture, truly comes alive. It wasn’t just about nurturing art; it was about nurturing relationships, ideas, and a way of life.
In my opinion, this is the exhibition’s greatest strength. It doesn’t just celebrate the art; it celebrates the human connections that made it possible. It’s a reminder that creativity thrives in community, and that the most radical acts are often the most personal.
A Legacy That Resonates
If you take a step back and think about it, the story of the Heide Circle is more relevant today than ever. In an age where artists are often isolated and commodified, the idea of a nurturing, communal space feels almost revolutionary. Lily Mora’s exhibition isn’t just a tribute to her grandmother or the artists of the Heide Circle—it’s a call to rethink how we support creativity in our own time.
Personally, I left the exhibition with a sense of hope. The Heide Circle’s legacy isn’t just about the art they left behind; it’s about the spirit of collaboration, rebellion, and care that defined their lives. As Lily puts it, they were ‘modern and radical but always full of joy and free-spirited acceptance of each other.’ In a world that often feels divided, that’s a message worth holding onto.
Always Modern: Radical Nurture is more than an exhibition—it’s a conversation starter, a reminder of the power of community, and a celebration of the radical hearts that shaped Australian modernism. If you’re in Melbourne before August 9, I highly recommend experiencing it for yourself. It’s not just art history; it’s a story that feels deeply, profoundly human.
