What is missing?

I've borrowed the title of today's blog from a great exhibition at Sydney's Museum of Contemporary Art.

French multimedia artist Sylvie Blocher asked residents of Penrith New South Wales to talk on camera about what is missing, from their lives, their community and their country.

This video portrait of a microcosm of Australian contemporary society is funny, shocking and at times uncomfortable to watch. Along with this film, MCA exhibited other Blocher video projects. As a whole, Blocher's work was a fascinating examination of human emotions and desires, and I was so immersed in it that despite spending two and half hours there, I wasn't able to see all of the video packages on show.

I was particularly struck by the videos I and Us from the Living Pictures projects and Nanling from the Urban Stories projects.

In I and Us, the fringe dwellers of France were given a voice, their simple messages printed onto t-shirts while they stared silently down the barrel of the camera. It was incredibly powerful, and I felt compelled to stand and watch the whole 55 minute screening. With their words and their faces, 100 people of the Beaudottes area of Sevran, France made me smile, laugh, gasp, and cry.

An excerpt from Blocher's film Nanling screened as a diptych, was particularly moving. On one wall endless footage of high rise housing in South China screened, panning slowly up buildings housing identical, tiny, living quarters. On another screen was a 9 minute silent film of Blocher's encounter with a Nanling woman. The woman had not met a white European before, and was keen to have physical contact with her. Sylvie allowed the woman to do whatever she wished to her body, as long as she could capture the encounter on film. What followed was an extraordinarily beautiful, candid and uncomfortable meeting. The woman touched Sylvie boldly, and lovingly, the bliss of her unfettered access to another human being shone from her face. When Blocher could take no more she gently removed the woman's hands and hugged her and we could see that the Nanling woman's face was serene and peaceful.

As a person who doesn't experience the touch of another human being very often, I had enormous sympathy for the Nanling woman. And I envied her opportunity to gently explore the body of another with her hands and fingertips, without any expectation or giving of herself in return.

When the MCA closed for the day, and I stepped back out into the throng of people at Circular Quay I felt lighter, and inspired by all I had seen.

In the days following my return to Melbourne, creative ideas flooded me and I speedily documented potential art projects. It was exciting and satisfying to think about the ways I could express and present these ideas in an appealing and meaningful way.

Exactly one week after visiting MCA, I feel creatively bereft. There are commissions and projects sitting patiently on my to-do list, and I can't drum up any enthusiasm for them whatsoever. In the same week, Autumn has settled into Melbourne's bones, and the cool wind is whisking away our long summer days much the same way it will blow the leaves from the trees. It's time for retreating into the bunker and surviving on stodge. It's time for blankets and slippers and tea and toast. Everything is slowing down, even it seems, me.

What is missing? I'm not lacking inspiration, ideas, or materials. So what is holding me back? What is missing? Could it be warmth? Touch? Love? Rest? Space? Time?

Check out the work of Sylvie Blocher.

What is Missing? is on at the Museum of Contemporary Art until April 26th.