Le voyage dans la Lune (Méliès)

Style Notes for Australia Day

Amid the unseemly wrangle over the use or misuse the Australian flag, few articles have made as much sense as Neil McMahon's amusingly ironic story 'Red-faced, white skin, so true blue' (SMH January 26), which deals in large part with problems inherent in Les Hawkins' (among others') design for the blue ensign. Ausflag's Harold Scruby is not the only one to think that "... the flag has to go. It divides as much as it unites". It used to be considered quite patriotic to remove the Union Jack from the corner of the ensign – not something you see so much these days. But Canada did it officially, without becoming a republic or dispensing with the Queen as head of state, and for good reason - the maple leaf flag is a beautiful design original which unites all Canadians.

Nothing sums up the Australian conundrum so well as the uniquely horrible stylistic clash of a busy yellow and green Wallabies shirt worn with a cloak (or sometimes toga) of the blue ensign, where the Union Jack falls inevitably over the shoulder. Admit it, they just don't go. Style disaster! Especially when added to this is sometimes the boxing kangaroo, or even (on at least one sighting) the Eureka flag. And what is it with this cloak/toga thing anyway? Are these kids all unconsciously emulating Pauline Hanson's iconic portrait, draped Boadicea-like, carrot hair aflame, in the ensign of the Federated Australian Dominions?

I had the enjoyable experience of spending part of Australia Day at a gathering in Cronulla's Gunnamatta Park – as culturally diverse a microcosm of Australia as you will find anywhere. The knots of fair-haired youngsters draped in the flag elicited only a diffident curiosity among the picnicking thousands of 'non-blondes'. It was as if there was a polite acknowledgment that, bizarre as it might seem, this was one tribe's traditional attire, and good luck to 'em. The only moment of tension I witnessed all day was the unedifying sight of of group of cloaked and plainly beered-up (blonde) kids on the ferry wharf, sporting 'If you don't love it, leave' t-shirts and slabs of VB, making half-hearted remarks about what was obviously a party of Asian tourists innocently spending their dollars in the Shire.

But back to the question of style. Informal soundings about the stylistic wisdom of wearing the Aussie flag, among younger (3rd or 4th generation) Australians of Italian, Greek, Israeli, Maori, Samoan, Indian, Lebanese... even Irish heritage... elicit an almost unanimous view that it is just so... well, uncool, in baby boomer talk. "Really, really daggy'" was also the quintessentially Australian view of not a few Aussies of Anglo-Celtic descent. These comments, ostensibly about youthful style, are revealing. What they tell us is that many patriotic Australians don't feel much love for Les Hawkins' flag design. Yet no-one I know of has a problem with the Southern Cross. It's cool. It's fully sick in fact. So the Union Jack is obviously the problem, but not just the emblem. It's the combinaton of colours – they're just so... dare I say un-Australian? So British. They don't relate to our landscape or our psyche. Where's the ochre of our deserts? The green of our verdant forests? The gold of our beaches and sandstone cliffs? The blue of the Pacific and Indian Oceans? The problem is that with its inbuilt connotations of Empire, the ensign in danger of being perceived as the emblem of only one cultural group within our society – the dominant Anglo-Celtic group. And in times of insecurity about terrorism, globalisation and migration, that group increasingly, literally wears it in a possessive way that can seem to say "...we're Anglo, we got here first, we've got the best land, and WE will decide who comes here... ". Ask Aborigines what they think about that one. One quip I overheard was that Australia Day could be cheekily re-dubbed from 'Invasion Day' to "Fear of Invasion Day'.

Now don't get me wrong. There are tasteful and patriotic ways to sport the ensign. In Cronulla one impressive islander matron wore it as a king of giant hairpin, fluttering above her head, like a galleon in full sail. Who will not confess to a thrill of pride when the horsemen galloped into Stadium Australia to commence the Olympic Opening Ceremony? There is something timeless and reassuring about the flag billowing majestically above Parliament House, or the pennant fluttering discreetly on the Gubernatorial limousine. But I contend we would feel this no less, or perhaps even more deeply, if our flag was simply a yellow Southern Cross on a field of azure – an obvious choice, surely? Minimal change. And something everyone can relate to as a great Australian emblem - uniting us under southern skies. But as clothing? Perhaps not – it would still clash terribly with the Wallabies shirt.

If symbols are as important as the debate seems to indicate, then let's start by finding one we can all love.

Latino Visions: Art Safari Santiago Sierra

This is quite old, but funny. Ben Lewis, the documentary maker, has just messed up Sierra's delicate negotiations with the curator of the Dubai Biennale. I think, from memory. Please correct me if I'm wrong