Guardian Australia
The judges’ selections are, as always, bonkers – but there’s something beautifully daggy about the whole thing too The public loves to love it. The critics love to hate it. Journalists accept it as an historical inevitability. The Archibald prize , the face that stops the nation. Every year, I have the same WhatsApp chats with fellow arts writers: who we think will win, who we wish would win; snaps of the abominations, cry-laughing and face-melting emojis; haggling about whether this is in fact the Worst Year. Every year spotting the Archibald trends becomes, if not an obsession, at least a sport: the extended era of brown suits ; the post-millennial surge of Big Heads ; the recurring waves of old white men in chairs . The 94-year trend of men painting men . Continue reading...
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