Eliza Hutchison

Although their visibility has diminished in recent years, I still see the occasional Goth wandering around Melbourne, draped in a long black cape, make-up melting in the sun, a dark remnant of the sub-culture's heyday in the late 70s and early 80s. Perhaps with a touch of nostalgia, Melbourne's Gothic fascination has filtered into the art world, finding its most recent manifestation in Eliza Hutchison's installation Bohemian Powderpuff (2000). Comprising two videos and nine large photographs, it documents a fashion shoot, and in so doing explores the performances inherent in bohemian, or sub-cultural, identity. A soundtrack by Tangerine Dream filled the space with the heavy atmospheric tremolo of early synthesiser music. The installation, which included clouds of dry ice, flowing dark hair and heavy Gothic make-up, was reminiscent of the artificial surfaces of 70s Glam Rock.

However, rather than present a complete stylised fantasy, Hutchison's photographs played with the contrived identity of the models. The first photograph featured two women in metallic yellow make-up, green eyes and purple lips, apparently floating through fog, dressed in black clothes. This Gothic masquerade was gradually revealed in the following photographs, which featured two cameramen, elements of the stage construction, lights and camera equipment. Two videos ran a simultaneous documentation of the photo shoot - assistants applying make-up, adjusting the height of stands or positioning lights, the director talking to the models, glimpses of more models and assistants waiting on couches in the background, and the photographers, who occasionally glance at the camera betraying their status as actors, while moving around in search of the perfect shot.

On one level, Hutchison presented a parody of the rituals which preoccupy the outsider - the dressing up, hairstyling, make-up, accessories - the staged images of rebellion prevalent in fashion magazines. However, she also developed a self-conscious performance out of the processes which create this particular style - behind every Gothic image of horror, darkness and otherness lies the awkward posing on specialist props. The inclusion of the set in the background of a grungy inner-city warehouse, complete with peeling paint and well-worn carpet, added to the unmasking, revealing the banality which lies at the heart of a consumer-friendly alternative identity.

Included as part of the Melbourne Fashion Festival, it was hard not to read Bohemian Powderpuff as a critique of the appropriation of sub-cultural styles by high fashion, which left the audience unsure as to who were the real objects of the performance. In a humorous reference to the aesthetics of 'spontaneous' documentary art photography which was so in vogue during the last decade, Hutchison's real target seemed to be the figure of the bohemian artist who fulfils the role of both protagonist and distanced documenter. Her installation seemed to inhabit both sides of the somewhat fluid border that separates the two positions.