Good as Goldie

Fryday notes the passing of noted forger C. F. (Carl) Goldie.

Carl was the first New Zealander to be convicted for art forgery. That was in 1985 when he was charged, found guilty and fined $1000 for forging paintings and drawings and hocking them off as the work of C. F. (Charles) Goldie, Rita Angus and Colin McCahon among others.

Goldie was Goldie’s favourite, which is the reason why after going legit the then Karl Sim changed his name to Carl Feodor Goldie so he could legally sign his paintings C. F. Goldie.

I knew Karl/Carl from my time in Orewa. He was a local and quite a character. He was often in town though he lived a reclusive life out in the country somewhere—somewhere visitors were not encouraged and he was left alone to do his painting, his drawings and to look after his beloved dog.

Carl has been described as kind, gentle and generous. He was. He gave me a signed copy of his biography—at least I think it his signature. He also on commission painted a very special birthday present for a friend of mine for just the cost of materials and refused to accept anything more.

I lost touch with him after I moved from Orewa. But I understand he developed arthritis, which prevented him from painting; he managed a few sketches, but that was all.

C. F. Goldie died in North Shore Hospital October 21. He was 89. In November 2007 he was named the eighth greatest forger in the world.

RIP Carl…mate.

Mayoral Morality and Christian Grey

Overseas readers of Fryday will not be aware that Auckland’s newly re-elected mayor is embroiled in a sex scandal. The revelation that he had a two year affair with a young woman who at times was contracted to council in a number of capacities was made public only after the mayor, Len Brown, was re-elected. Some say the timing was significant, and perhaps it is; perhaps that timing may be indeed the greater issue and concern in this affair. Certainly, if I were still in politics I would be more concerned with that than making judgements on the mayoral morality. In truth though I have no real concerns and only a prurient interest. Mayor Brown has himself to blame, he has made his own bed—or more accurately in this case a couch—and he has to lie in it and hopefully not lie about it. This story will take its course and doesn’t need me to push it along. But where are the jokes? They are curiously absent. Usually in cases such as this the jokes about a celebrity’s indiscretions come thick and fast (and I apologise for that terminology). They are often cruel and always humiliating, which can be a potent weapon. Shane Jones seems to be the only politician to fully survive such an attack. But here with Mayor Brown the satirical sword remains sheathed. The only joke I have read is the predictable Fifty Shades of Brown. And therein may lay a clue. Fifty Shades of Grey could more accurately describe Mayor Brown with or without the BDSM connotations. In his performance and his engagements and in his interface he has exhibited only grey—neutral, unprepossessing, unexciting. I once heard grey described as the colour black would be if it would only lighten up, and Mayor Brown has at least attained that. But he has never been interesting, much less charismatic, which is perhaps why our humourists and satirists are struggling to come up with anything funny to say about this issue. There is nothing to latch on to. In the end Mr Brown’s very greyness may be the very Teflon-coating that saves him.

When Surveys go Weird

I am going to move to Howick.
I am not doing so because I particularly want to live in Asia, but because a recent Auckland Council funded survey revealed that Howick was the safest Auckland suburb in which to live.
The survey results were published in the NZ Herald which in its characteristic way used both a grammar error and a negative spin on the story in this headline: “Revealed: Most dangerous suburbs”.
I thought at first the survey and the story may have alluded to crime statistics, and that would certainly have made sense and could have led to some  form of targeted rectification; but, no, the statistics alluded to were personal injury, the rectification of which I suggest is a lot more problematic, certainly on a suburb by suburb basis.
Injuries—accidental or otherwise—happen, but does it really matter whether they happen more often in Helensville than Howick? And what can we do about them anyway?
Even more perversely the survey areas used for comparisons were not so much suburbs, but local board areas; the reasoning being that, “the new injury data was also being shared with local boards and community groups to help them identify the injury priorities and address them together.” Really? So a new-found responsibility of our about to be elected local boards is help address personal injuries? That’ll be news to them, I’m sure.
The point is that, in my view, surveys such as this are of little practical use and therefore a waste of my money. The survey industry itself is probably third-only to counsellors and Greenpeace as self-perpetuating saviours of little practical benefit. Colin Craig’s Conservative Party is another.
Perhaps the real fascination lies with the sheer weirdness of some surveys. Perversely the more impractical the empirical data the more fascinating it may get. Forget the cost, who could not fail to be fascinated by surveys that reveal:
·      One in seven people break up a relationship by text.
·      On average, women spend 20 years of their life feeling miserable about their hair.
·      17% of English tourists abroad have resorted to miming to demonstrate a need to use a loo (how?).
·      Men with purple bedrooms have more sex than the rest of us (mine is predominantly white, but I am changing it).
·      Nearly 40% of female librarians said they'd sleep with the fictional character Pee-wee Herman if he were the last man on the planet.
·      80% of the residents in the cemetery across the road said they prefer staying where they are to living in Hamilton.
Yeah, I made up that last one up, but so too I imagine do most of the surveys.
Have a good weekend.

Letter to Larry

The Democratic Republic of Wogistan (Inc.)

Office of the Foreign Secretary

123 Bruce Springsteen Boulevard (third door on right). Telephone: 125.

Mr Lary Allison

Oracles Boat Builders

San Francisco

United States of America

Dear Mr Allison

The Democratic Republic of Wogistans peoples send warm congratulations to Mr Allison and his peoples as to winnings of Americas Cup against New Zealand. We not like New Zealand. They to big for their boats and do not replies to letters.

The Wogistan navy now stands ready to take cup.  Flagship Presidente Yoseh Flagrantlie very big boat and very fast. Third oarman was in Olympics. When put sail up go even faster. Comes with own starting gun. You no match for Wogistan Navy.  Your James Sputall not match for Captain Presidente Yoseh Flaglantelie (all grace to He on high).

We send navy when hole repaired. Please send moneys to make happen.

With sincere facilitations,

Yoseph xxx

Yoseph Wankerstan

Foreign Secretary The Democratic Republic of Wogistan (Inc.)

Proprietor Spartacus Male Gym and Bathouse.