Duo axed from international exhibition receive apology
The head of the nation's arts body, Wesley Enoch, said artist Khaled Sabsabi's artwork had been mischaracterised and he apologised to him and curator Michael Dagostino.
The apology from Creative Australia's acting chair came after it was revealed on Wednesday that the pair will once again represent Australia at the 2026 Venice Biennale, after being dropped in February.
"I want to apologise to them for the hurt and pain they've gone through in this process," Mr Enoch told ABC radio, while noting that he had already offered an in-person apology.
"Although we will be stronger as a sector because of it, I know it's come at a personal cost - not just to them but also to a whole range of people in the arts sector.
"We, as Creative Australia, need to help the whole sector learn some of these lessons going forward."
The body initially revoked the pair's invitation after a federal politician raised concerns over Sabsabi's early works, one of which showed Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah and another that depicted the 9/11 attacks.
Creative Australia had claimed Sabsabi and Dagostino's selection would cause a prolonged and divisive debate and that it would pose an unacceptable risk to public support for the Australian artistic community, leading to the decision that would be later decried by more than 4000 people.
Enoch on Thursday noted Sabsabi's work had been mischaracterised and said he was an "incredibly peace-loving artist", as shown by the way he constructs his images.
"This work is not about terrorism," he said.
"It is not about the glorification of terrorism.
"Those who choose to mischaracterise the work aren't being honest to the intention of the work or the practice that this artist has."
But shadow attorney-general Julian Leeser remained unhappy with Creative Australia's reversal, arguing that the issues raised in February remained.
"I think this is the wrong person to be sending to this prestigious art festival, as a representative of our country, and to give them taxpayer funds," he told ABC radio.
"Particularly given the tensions in Australia and the declining level of social cohesion."
The arts funding and advisory body backpedalled on its earlier decision to axe the pair after an independent review found various missteps, assumptions and missed opportunities in the decision-making process.
Enoch said Creative Australia believed reinstatement was the best option and would take into account the report's recommendations.
"The rigour in which we undertook this was not easy," he said.
"It takes a very big heart to go, 'we will engage in the process with integrity and thoughtfulness and move forward', and that's what we've done."
The creative duo said the latest decision had renewed their confidence in Creative Australia and "allows us to move forward with optimism and hope after a period of significant personal and collective hardship".
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He was the pencil-nosed puppet who ruled kids prime-time telly
It's only when you start describing some of the shows you grew up with that you realise how surreal they all sound. And isn't this what makes them great? A puppet with a pencil for a nose, who lives on the moon and comes down every afternoon in a creaky, patched-up rocket to draw pictures? A family of blue heelers living an ordinary suburban existence in Brisbane? A pair of walking, talking bananas, wearing, yes, pyjamas? A dad and his three kids living in a lighthouse and having supernatural adventures most weeks of the year? A young boy and his trusty pet kangaroo? The list goes on. And they all, in their own ways, hit the spot of comfort and safety. That warm embrace we all felt, at some stage in our early lives, of afternoon telly - after school, before the news, snack in hand and little else to distract us. It's no surprise that a major new exhibition at the National Museum of Australia focused on Mr Squiggle, the aforementioned pencil-nosed puppet, is set to be a crowd-pleaser. Think of all of the adults mired in the highs and lows of parenting. Why, we wonder, can't our kids just be happy with something as simple, innocent and ingenious as Mr Squiggle? Created in the earliest days of Australian television by a young cartoonist named Norman Hetherington, Mr Squiggle had a basic premise that would remain the same for the next 40 years. Children would write in with a "squiggle", and Mr Squiggle - a marionette operated from above by Hetherington himself - would turn them into recognisable drawings with his pencil nose. Quite often, the picture would be upside down, and Mr Squiggle would ask his human companion to flip it the right way, revealing the picture. Viewers can date themselves by the companion they most remember - Miss Gina, then Miss Pat, then Miss Sue, then Miss Jane (my era for sure) then, after they dropped the "miss", Roxanne and finally, Rebecca Hetherington, Norman's daughter. It's Rebecca who's behind the show; she had the solemn task, after Hetherington died aged 89 in 2010, of deciding what to do with his vast collection of work. In his home studio, which remained intact, he had kept every drawing, sketch, script, letter and puppet he'd ever been involved in, as well as stage designs, set decorations and costumes. "Years ago, when dad was still alive, I didn't really think that anyone would be necessarily interested in them," she says. "So I actually thought, oh, it's going to be me and a storage unit for the rest of forever." But with both her parents gone, and with no rush to pack up the family home, she had the luxury of time to consider the collection, and ensure it remained intact. "I could unpack it in my head, and I started talking to different institutions, just to find out what the process was," she says. "But obviously no one, except for the museum, could really look at the whole collection. "He really kept all his creative output. It really told such a great story that it was a shame to break it up." Last year, the museum took into its collection more than 800 objects from the Hetherington archive, one of its most significant acquisitions. The exhibition takes in Hetherington's life and career, which intersected with several historical touchpoints in Australia, and includes about 300 items on display. But there's no question that the main event is the quaint little fellow in stripey tights and a calico smock. Displayed in a glass case alongside his co-stars the grumpy Blackboard and his trusty little rocket, Mr Squiggle (there was only ever one version of the puppet) will be getting a hero's welcome every day of the week, as people make a beeline for him. Sophie Jensen, the National Museum of Australia's deputy director and chief curator, well remembers the first time she encountered Mr Squiggle in the flesh, so to speak. It was several years ago, as part of the years-long conversation between Rebecca Hetherington and the museum, that Jensen finally visited the studio. It was an eerie wonderland, filled with drawings and tools and fabric. Puppets hung from the ceiling, many covered in cloth to protect them. "Rebecca inevitably said, 'Do you want to see Mr. Squiggle? And in my heart, I was thinking, I'm really just more excited to see Blackboard, because I love Blackboard," she says. It's worth noting that Jensen is one of the most senior figures in her trade - a museum curator with decades of experience. She's also a grown adult with the fondest possible memories of Miss Jane and Bill Steamshovel, and the rest of the gang. This was the ultimate celebrity experience. "Rebecca hung him on the stand, and she pulled up his calico. And, you think, 'Oh, my goodness, that's Mr. Squiggle, that's amazing'. "But it wasn't. It was just this puppet," she says. "And then Rebecca just tweaked one little thread, and he moved his head. And literally, my heart stopped ... it was him, come to life." The show is about the life and work of Norman Hetherington, but it's also a masterclass in history, good fortune, Australia's creative landscape, and the joys of just giving it a go. Born and bred in Sydney, Hetherington enlisted in the Australian Imperial Force in 1942 and was quickly identified as someone with a gift for entertaining. He was then transferred to the 2nd Division Concert Party - which was later known as no. 4 Detachment, 1st Australian Army Entertainment Unit - when his lightning sketch and performing abilities were recognised. He served with the First Australian Army Entertainment Unit throughout the war, performing shows, capturing scenes in watercolours, and making quick sketches of his fellow officers, to great effect. "It's a really important part of military life, the morale of the troops," Jensen says. "They [the entertainment unit] were there to ensure that people were entertained, that there was a warmth and humanity, in fact, to their military experience." Rebecca says her father was diffident about his experience - he had a "good war", through sheer good fortune, but still saw things he wouldn't talk about until many years later. He also lived through the Depression, which taught him resilience, and gave him a creative outlook when it came to making do. After the war, he discovered the art of puppetry and became involved in the dawn of television. "His lifespan constantly intersected with some very interesting times," Rebecca says. "I also say about him that it's all very well having good fortune, but if you don't meet it with hard work and perseverance, it's wasted." She remembers her father constantly working. Mr Squiggle was a family affair; he created the puppets and performed all the voices, his wife Margaret wrote the scripts, and Rebecca was his final onscreen companion. But he always had multiple projects on the go - books, new characters and public campaigns. "He never stopped thinking about what he could do to entertain people. He was wildly imaginative but always with a great sense of purpose and direction," she says. Jensen, who has led a large team of conservators in bringing together the visual narrative of an extraordinary life, says Norman Hetherington was "utterly, relentlessly creative". "I still get amazed when I think that he sold his first cartoon to the Bulletin at 16," she says. "He was, even at that stage, really quite a creative talent in terms of his ability to be able to think, 'I want to be a cartoonist. That's my dream', and he was actively working in that space. "So the collection has to trace his whole creative arc, and it creates, at that same time, an arc of the Australian creative industries." It is, she says, an exhibition for the many adults who grew up in simpler times, when a puppet with a pencil for a nose was considered entertainment royalty. And it's a chance for the children of today to rediscover him, and try their hand at the art of the squiggle. Rebecca says her father would be amazed, and bewildered, by the exhibition - its scope, and innovation, and especially the interactive drawing wall where visitors can make their own squiggle, projected onto a massive screen. "He would just be shaking his head and looking around and loving it," she says. "That is one thing I'm sorry that he hasn't had the enjoyment of, meeting and working with people like Sophie and the conservators ... he would be really interested in their expertise." Most of all, she says, he'd want people to understand that his whole life and career had been about giving things a go and having fun. "When you say it's about Norman Hetherington, yes, it is. But I really hope that people walk out with a sense of, you can really do anything you want. "Why not be a cartoonist? Why not pick up and start drawing? Why not take up that watercolour class I was thinking about doing? "What's holding me back?" It's only when you start describing some of the shows you grew up with that you realise how surreal they all sound. And isn't this what makes them great? A puppet with a pencil for a nose, who lives on the moon and comes down every afternoon in a creaky, patched-up rocket to draw pictures? A family of blue heelers living an ordinary suburban existence in Brisbane? A pair of walking, talking bananas, wearing, yes, pyjamas? A dad and his three kids living in a lighthouse and having supernatural adventures most weeks of the year? A young boy and his trusty pet kangaroo? The list goes on. And they all, in their own ways, hit the spot of comfort and safety. That warm embrace we all felt, at some stage in our early lives, of afternoon telly - after school, before the news, snack in hand and little else to distract us. It's no surprise that a major new exhibition at the National Museum of Australia focused on Mr Squiggle, the aforementioned pencil-nosed puppet, is set to be a crowd-pleaser. Think of all of the adults mired in the highs and lows of parenting. Why, we wonder, can't our kids just be happy with something as simple, innocent and ingenious as Mr Squiggle? Created in the earliest days of Australian television by a young cartoonist named Norman Hetherington, Mr Squiggle had a basic premise that would remain the same for the next 40 years. Children would write in with a "squiggle", and Mr Squiggle - a marionette operated from above by Hetherington himself - would turn them into recognisable drawings with his pencil nose. Quite often, the picture would be upside down, and Mr Squiggle would ask his human companion to flip it the right way, revealing the picture. Viewers can date themselves by the companion they most remember - Miss Gina, then Miss Pat, then Miss Sue, then Miss Jane (my era for sure) then, after they dropped the "miss", Roxanne and finally, Rebecca Hetherington, Norman's daughter. It's Rebecca who's behind the show; she had the solemn task, after Hetherington died aged 89 in 2010, of deciding what to do with his vast collection of work. In his home studio, which remained intact, he had kept every drawing, sketch, script, letter and puppet he'd ever been involved in, as well as stage designs, set decorations and costumes. "Years ago, when dad was still alive, I didn't really think that anyone would be necessarily interested in them," she says. "So I actually thought, oh, it's going to be me and a storage unit for the rest of forever." But with both her parents gone, and with no rush to pack up the family home, she had the luxury of time to consider the collection, and ensure it remained intact. "I could unpack it in my head, and I started talking to different institutions, just to find out what the process was," she says. "But obviously no one, except for the museum, could really look at the whole collection. "He really kept all his creative output. It really told such a great story that it was a shame to break it up." Last year, the museum took into its collection more than 800 objects from the Hetherington archive, one of its most significant acquisitions. The exhibition takes in Hetherington's life and career, which intersected with several historical touchpoints in Australia, and includes about 300 items on display. But there's no question that the main event is the quaint little fellow in stripey tights and a calico smock. Displayed in a glass case alongside his co-stars the grumpy Blackboard and his trusty little rocket, Mr Squiggle (there was only ever one version of the puppet) will be getting a hero's welcome every day of the week, as people make a beeline for him. Sophie Jensen, the National Museum of Australia's deputy director and chief curator, well remembers the first time she encountered Mr Squiggle in the flesh, so to speak. It was several years ago, as part of the years-long conversation between Rebecca Hetherington and the museum, that Jensen finally visited the studio. It was an eerie wonderland, filled with drawings and tools and fabric. Puppets hung from the ceiling, many covered in cloth to protect them. "Rebecca inevitably said, 'Do you want to see Mr. Squiggle? And in my heart, I was thinking, I'm really just more excited to see Blackboard, because I love Blackboard," she says. It's worth noting that Jensen is one of the most senior figures in her trade - a museum curator with decades of experience. She's also a grown adult with the fondest possible memories of Miss Jane and Bill Steamshovel, and the rest of the gang. This was the ultimate celebrity experience. "Rebecca hung him on the stand, and she pulled up his calico. And, you think, 'Oh, my goodness, that's Mr. Squiggle, that's amazing'. "But it wasn't. It was just this puppet," she says. "And then Rebecca just tweaked one little thread, and he moved his head. And literally, my heart stopped ... it was him, come to life." The show is about the life and work of Norman Hetherington, but it's also a masterclass in history, good fortune, Australia's creative landscape, and the joys of just giving it a go. Born and bred in Sydney, Hetherington enlisted in the Australian Imperial Force in 1942 and was quickly identified as someone with a gift for entertaining. He was then transferred to the 2nd Division Concert Party - which was later known as no. 4 Detachment, 1st Australian Army Entertainment Unit - when his lightning sketch and performing abilities were recognised. He served with the First Australian Army Entertainment Unit throughout the war, performing shows, capturing scenes in watercolours, and making quick sketches of his fellow officers, to great effect. "It's a really important part of military life, the morale of the troops," Jensen says. "They [the entertainment unit] were there to ensure that people were entertained, that there was a warmth and humanity, in fact, to their military experience." Rebecca says her father was diffident about his experience - he had a "good war", through sheer good fortune, but still saw things he wouldn't talk about until many years later. He also lived through the Depression, which taught him resilience, and gave him a creative outlook when it came to making do. After the war, he discovered the art of puppetry and became involved in the dawn of television. "His lifespan constantly intersected with some very interesting times," Rebecca says. "I also say about him that it's all very well having good fortune, but if you don't meet it with hard work and perseverance, it's wasted." She remembers her father constantly working. Mr Squiggle was a family affair; he created the puppets and performed all the voices, his wife Margaret wrote the scripts, and Rebecca was his final onscreen companion. But he always had multiple projects on the go - books, new characters and public campaigns. "He never stopped thinking about what he could do to entertain people. He was wildly imaginative but always with a great sense of purpose and direction," she says. Jensen, who has led a large team of conservators in bringing together the visual narrative of an extraordinary life, says Norman Hetherington was "utterly, relentlessly creative". "I still get amazed when I think that he sold his first cartoon to the Bulletin at 16," she says. "He was, even at that stage, really quite a creative talent in terms of his ability to be able to think, 'I want to be a cartoonist. That's my dream', and he was actively working in that space. "So the collection has to trace his whole creative arc, and it creates, at that same time, an arc of the Australian creative industries." It is, she says, an exhibition for the many adults who grew up in simpler times, when a puppet with a pencil for a nose was considered entertainment royalty. And it's a chance for the children of today to rediscover him, and try their hand at the art of the squiggle. Rebecca says her father would be amazed, and bewildered, by the exhibition - its scope, and innovation, and especially the interactive drawing wall where visitors can make their own squiggle, projected onto a massive screen. "He would just be shaking his head and looking around and loving it," she says. "That is one thing I'm sorry that he hasn't had the enjoyment of, meeting and working with people like Sophie and the conservators ... he would be really interested in their expertise." Most of all, she says, he'd want people to understand that his whole life and career had been about giving things a go and having fun. "When you say it's about Norman Hetherington, yes, it is. But I really hope that people walk out with a sense of, you can really do anything you want. "Why not be a cartoonist? Why not pick up and start drawing? Why not take up that watercolour class I was thinking about doing? "What's holding me back?" It's only when you start describing some of the shows you grew up with that you realise how surreal they all sound. And isn't this what makes them great? A puppet with a pencil for a nose, who lives on the moon and comes down every afternoon in a creaky, patched-up rocket to draw pictures? A family of blue heelers living an ordinary suburban existence in Brisbane? A pair of walking, talking bananas, wearing, yes, pyjamas? A dad and his three kids living in a lighthouse and having supernatural adventures most weeks of the year? A young boy and his trusty pet kangaroo? The list goes on. And they all, in their own ways, hit the spot of comfort and safety. That warm embrace we all felt, at some stage in our early lives, of afternoon telly - after school, before the news, snack in hand and little else to distract us. It's no surprise that a major new exhibition at the National Museum of Australia focused on Mr Squiggle, the aforementioned pencil-nosed puppet, is set to be a crowd-pleaser. Think of all of the adults mired in the highs and lows of parenting. Why, we wonder, can't our kids just be happy with something as simple, innocent and ingenious as Mr Squiggle? Created in the earliest days of Australian television by a young cartoonist named Norman Hetherington, Mr Squiggle had a basic premise that would remain the same for the next 40 years. Children would write in with a "squiggle", and Mr Squiggle - a marionette operated from above by Hetherington himself - would turn them into recognisable drawings with his pencil nose. Quite often, the picture would be upside down, and Mr Squiggle would ask his human companion to flip it the right way, revealing the picture. Viewers can date themselves by the companion they most remember - Miss Gina, then Miss Pat, then Miss Sue, then Miss Jane (my era for sure) then, after they dropped the "miss", Roxanne and finally, Rebecca Hetherington, Norman's daughter. It's Rebecca who's behind the show; she had the solemn task, after Hetherington died aged 89 in 2010, of deciding what to do with his vast collection of work. In his home studio, which remained intact, he had kept every drawing, sketch, script, letter and puppet he'd ever been involved in, as well as stage designs, set decorations and costumes. "Years ago, when dad was still alive, I didn't really think that anyone would be necessarily interested in them," she says. "So I actually thought, oh, it's going to be me and a storage unit for the rest of forever." But with both her parents gone, and with no rush to pack up the family home, she had the luxury of time to consider the collection, and ensure it remained intact. "I could unpack it in my head, and I started talking to different institutions, just to find out what the process was," she says. "But obviously no one, except for the museum, could really look at the whole collection. "He really kept all his creative output. It really told such a great story that it was a shame to break it up." Last year, the museum took into its collection more than 800 objects from the Hetherington archive, one of its most significant acquisitions. The exhibition takes in Hetherington's life and career, which intersected with several historical touchpoints in Australia, and includes about 300 items on display. But there's no question that the main event is the quaint little fellow in stripey tights and a calico smock. Displayed in a glass case alongside his co-stars the grumpy Blackboard and his trusty little rocket, Mr Squiggle (there was only ever one version of the puppet) will be getting a hero's welcome every day of the week, as people make a beeline for him. Sophie Jensen, the National Museum of Australia's deputy director and chief curator, well remembers the first time she encountered Mr Squiggle in the flesh, so to speak. It was several years ago, as part of the years-long conversation between Rebecca Hetherington and the museum, that Jensen finally visited the studio. It was an eerie wonderland, filled with drawings and tools and fabric. Puppets hung from the ceiling, many covered in cloth to protect them. "Rebecca inevitably said, 'Do you want to see Mr. Squiggle? And in my heart, I was thinking, I'm really just more excited to see Blackboard, because I love Blackboard," she says. It's worth noting that Jensen is one of the most senior figures in her trade - a museum curator with decades of experience. She's also a grown adult with the fondest possible memories of Miss Jane and Bill Steamshovel, and the rest of the gang. This was the ultimate celebrity experience. "Rebecca hung him on the stand, and she pulled up his calico. And, you think, 'Oh, my goodness, that's Mr. Squiggle, that's amazing'. "But it wasn't. It was just this puppet," she says. "And then Rebecca just tweaked one little thread, and he moved his head. And literally, my heart stopped ... it was him, come to life." The show is about the life and work of Norman Hetherington, but it's also a masterclass in history, good fortune, Australia's creative landscape, and the joys of just giving it a go. Born and bred in Sydney, Hetherington enlisted in the Australian Imperial Force in 1942 and was quickly identified as someone with a gift for entertaining. He was then transferred to the 2nd Division Concert Party - which was later known as no. 4 Detachment, 1st Australian Army Entertainment Unit - when his lightning sketch and performing abilities were recognised. He served with the First Australian Army Entertainment Unit throughout the war, performing shows, capturing scenes in watercolours, and making quick sketches of his fellow officers, to great effect. "It's a really important part of military life, the morale of the troops," Jensen says. "They [the entertainment unit] were there to ensure that people were entertained, that there was a warmth and humanity, in fact, to their military experience." Rebecca says her father was diffident about his experience - he had a "good war", through sheer good fortune, but still saw things he wouldn't talk about until many years later. He also lived through the Depression, which taught him resilience, and gave him a creative outlook when it came to making do. After the war, he discovered the art of puppetry and became involved in the dawn of television. "His lifespan constantly intersected with some very interesting times," Rebecca says. "I also say about him that it's all very well having good fortune, but if you don't meet it with hard work and perseverance, it's wasted." She remembers her father constantly working. Mr Squiggle was a family affair; he created the puppets and performed all the voices, his wife Margaret wrote the scripts, and Rebecca was his final onscreen companion. But he always had multiple projects on the go - books, new characters and public campaigns. "He never stopped thinking about what he could do to entertain people. He was wildly imaginative but always with a great sense of purpose and direction," she says. Jensen, who has led a large team of conservators in bringing together the visual narrative of an extraordinary life, says Norman Hetherington was "utterly, relentlessly creative". "I still get amazed when I think that he sold his first cartoon to the Bulletin at 16," she says. "He was, even at that stage, really quite a creative talent in terms of his ability to be able to think, 'I want to be a cartoonist. That's my dream', and he was actively working in that space. "So the collection has to trace his whole creative arc, and it creates, at that same time, an arc of the Australian creative industries." It is, she says, an exhibition for the many adults who grew up in simpler times, when a puppet with a pencil for a nose was considered entertainment royalty. And it's a chance for the children of today to rediscover him, and try their hand at the art of the squiggle. Rebecca says her father would be amazed, and bewildered, by the exhibition - its scope, and innovation, and especially the interactive drawing wall where visitors can make their own squiggle, projected onto a massive screen. "He would just be shaking his head and looking around and loving it," she says. "That is one thing I'm sorry that he hasn't had the enjoyment of, meeting and working with people like Sophie and the conservators ... he would be really interested in their expertise." Most of all, she says, he'd want people to understand that his whole life and career had been about giving things a go and having fun. "When you say it's about Norman Hetherington, yes, it is. But I really hope that people walk out with a sense of, you can really do anything you want. "Why not be a cartoonist? Why not pick up and start drawing? Why not take up that watercolour class I was thinking about doing? "What's holding me back?" It's only when you start describing some of the shows you grew up with that you realise how surreal they all sound. And isn't this what makes them great? A puppet with a pencil for a nose, who lives on the moon and comes down every afternoon in a creaky, patched-up rocket to draw pictures? A family of blue heelers living an ordinary suburban existence in Brisbane? A pair of walking, talking bananas, wearing, yes, pyjamas? A dad and his three kids living in a lighthouse and having supernatural adventures most weeks of the year? A young boy and his trusty pet kangaroo? The list goes on. And they all, in their own ways, hit the spot of comfort and safety. That warm embrace we all felt, at some stage in our early lives, of afternoon telly - after school, before the news, snack in hand and little else to distract us. It's no surprise that a major new exhibition at the National Museum of Australia focused on Mr Squiggle, the aforementioned pencil-nosed puppet, is set to be a crowd-pleaser. Think of all of the adults mired in the highs and lows of parenting. Why, we wonder, can't our kids just be happy with something as simple, innocent and ingenious as Mr Squiggle? Created in the earliest days of Australian television by a young cartoonist named Norman Hetherington, Mr Squiggle had a basic premise that would remain the same for the next 40 years. Children would write in with a "squiggle", and Mr Squiggle - a marionette operated from above by Hetherington himself - would turn them into recognisable drawings with his pencil nose. Quite often, the picture would be upside down, and Mr Squiggle would ask his human companion to flip it the right way, revealing the picture. Viewers can date themselves by the companion they most remember - Miss Gina, then Miss Pat, then Miss Sue, then Miss Jane (my era for sure) then, after they dropped the "miss", Roxanne and finally, Rebecca Hetherington, Norman's daughter. It's Rebecca who's behind the show; she had the solemn task, after Hetherington died aged 89 in 2010, of deciding what to do with his vast collection of work. In his home studio, which remained intact, he had kept every drawing, sketch, script, letter and puppet he'd ever been involved in, as well as stage designs, set decorations and costumes. "Years ago, when dad was still alive, I didn't really think that anyone would be necessarily interested in them," she says. "So I actually thought, oh, it's going to be me and a storage unit for the rest of forever." But with both her parents gone, and with no rush to pack up the family home, she had the luxury of time to consider the collection, and ensure it remained intact. "I could unpack it in my head, and I started talking to different institutions, just to find out what the process was," she says. "But obviously no one, except for the museum, could really look at the whole collection. "He really kept all his creative output. It really told such a great story that it was a shame to break it up." Last year, the museum took into its collection more than 800 objects from the Hetherington archive, one of its most significant acquisitions. The exhibition takes in Hetherington's life and career, which intersected with several historical touchpoints in Australia, and includes about 300 items on display. But there's no question that the main event is the quaint little fellow in stripey tights and a calico smock. Displayed in a glass case alongside his co-stars the grumpy Blackboard and his trusty little rocket, Mr Squiggle (there was only ever one version of the puppet) will be getting a hero's welcome every day of the week, as people make a beeline for him. Sophie Jensen, the National Museum of Australia's deputy director and chief curator, well remembers the first time she encountered Mr Squiggle in the flesh, so to speak. It was several years ago, as part of the years-long conversation between Rebecca Hetherington and the museum, that Jensen finally visited the studio. It was an eerie wonderland, filled with drawings and tools and fabric. Puppets hung from the ceiling, many covered in cloth to protect them. "Rebecca inevitably said, 'Do you want to see Mr. Squiggle? And in my heart, I was thinking, I'm really just more excited to see Blackboard, because I love Blackboard," she says. It's worth noting that Jensen is one of the most senior figures in her trade - a museum curator with decades of experience. She's also a grown adult with the fondest possible memories of Miss Jane and Bill Steamshovel, and the rest of the gang. This was the ultimate celebrity experience. "Rebecca hung him on the stand, and she pulled up his calico. And, you think, 'Oh, my goodness, that's Mr. Squiggle, that's amazing'. "But it wasn't. It was just this puppet," she says. "And then Rebecca just tweaked one little thread, and he moved his head. And literally, my heart stopped ... it was him, come to life." The show is about the life and work of Norman Hetherington, but it's also a masterclass in history, good fortune, Australia's creative landscape, and the joys of just giving it a go. Born and bred in Sydney, Hetherington enlisted in the Australian Imperial Force in 1942 and was quickly identified as someone with a gift for entertaining. He was then transferred to the 2nd Division Concert Party - which was later known as no. 4 Detachment, 1st Australian Army Entertainment Unit - when his lightning sketch and performing abilities were recognised. He served with the First Australian Army Entertainment Unit throughout the war, performing shows, capturing scenes in watercolours, and making quick sketches of his fellow officers, to great effect. "It's a really important part of military life, the morale of the troops," Jensen says. "They [the entertainment unit] were there to ensure that people were entertained, that there was a warmth and humanity, in fact, to their military experience." Rebecca says her father was diffident about his experience - he had a "good war", through sheer good fortune, but still saw things he wouldn't talk about until many years later. He also lived through the Depression, which taught him resilience, and gave him a creative outlook when it came to making do. After the war, he discovered the art of puppetry and became involved in the dawn of television. "His lifespan constantly intersected with some very interesting times," Rebecca says. "I also say about him that it's all very well having good fortune, but if you don't meet it with hard work and perseverance, it's wasted." She remembers her father constantly working. Mr Squiggle was a family affair; he created the puppets and performed all the voices, his wife Margaret wrote the scripts, and Rebecca was his final onscreen companion. But he always had multiple projects on the go - books, new characters and public campaigns. "He never stopped thinking about what he could do to entertain people. He was wildly imaginative but always with a great sense of purpose and direction," she says. Jensen, who has led a large team of conservators in bringing together the visual narrative of an extraordinary life, says Norman Hetherington was "utterly, relentlessly creative". "I still get amazed when I think that he sold his first cartoon to the Bulletin at 16," she says. "He was, even at that stage, really quite a creative talent in terms of his ability to be able to think, 'I want to be a cartoonist. That's my dream', and he was actively working in that space. "So the collection has to trace his whole creative arc, and it creates, at that same time, an arc of the Australian creative industries." It is, she says, an exhibition for the many adults who grew up in simpler times, when a puppet with a pencil for a nose was considered entertainment royalty. And it's a chance for the children of today to rediscover him, and try their hand at the art of the squiggle. Rebecca says her father would be amazed, and bewildered, by the exhibition - its scope, and innovation, and especially the interactive drawing wall where visitors can make their own squiggle, projected onto a massive screen. "He would just be shaking his head and looking around and loving it," she says. "That is one thing I'm sorry that he hasn't had the enjoyment of, meeting and working with people like Sophie and the conservators ... he would be really interested in their expertise." Most of all, she says, he'd want people to understand that his whole life and career had been about giving things a go and having fun. "When you say it's about Norman Hetherington, yes, it is. But I really hope that people walk out with a sense of, you can really do anything you want. "Why not be a cartoonist? Why not pick up and start drawing? Why not take up that watercolour class I was thinking about doing? "What's holding me back?"
ABC News
an hour ago
- ABC News
ABC wins Best Young Journalist, Best Rural/Regional Journalist at SA Media Awards
4 July 2025 ABC journalist Eva Blandis was named Best Young Journalist, Bill Ormonde was named Best Rural/Regional Journalist and the ABC won eight awards overall at the 2025 South Australian Media Awards in Adelaide last night. Blandis received the Max Fatchen Award for Best Young Journalist for reporters aged 25 or under whose work displays creativity, research, technical skills, newsworthiness, writing flair and impact. The judges said: 'Eva's entry displayed the work of a journalist, mastering their craft, well beyond her years. 'The ability to gain trust of contacts, secure exclusive content, and give in depth analysis of highly complex and sensitive issues, required a mature approach, usually associated with experienced reporters.' ABC video journalist Bill Ormonde was named Best Rural/Regional Journalist for his body of work and also won Visual Storytelling for Out of the Darkness, an interactive online story exploring mental health in remote Australia. The judges said: "Bill's entry epitomises what a rural journalist should strive to achieve. "Shining a light on the mental health stigma, that burdens regional Australia, is vital. This body of work is a fine example of gaining trust, to tell brave and personal stories, respectfully. Coupled with stunning imagery, this makes for a captivating and compelling entry." Other ABC winners included Che Chorley, Lincoln Rothall and Daniel Keane in the Text Formats – News category for 'Surface Tension' and Briana Fiore in Radio/Audio Journalism – News Reporting for 'Losing Ashleigh – Asthma in SA'. Nicholas Maher won the Multimedia News or Feature category for 'International Law & Democracy Explained', Jack Evans won Culture and Arts Report for 'BTN High – Class of Cabaret' and Stephanie Richards won Social Equity Report for 'Uncovering SA's Baby Removal Practices'. ' Full list of ABC winners and finalists at the MEAA SA Media Awards: Max Fatchen Award for Best Young Journalist Eva Blandis, ABC, 'Body of Work' - WINNER Text Formats – News Isabella Carbone, Sophie Landau & Josephine Lim, ABC, 'Global Shortage of Saline Solution Affecting Australian Healthcare System' Text Formats – Feature Che Chorley, Lincoln Rothall & Daniel Keane, ABC, 'Surface Tension' - WINNER Che Chorley, Lincoln Rothall & Daniel Keane, ABC, 'Surface Tension' - Bill Ormonde, ABC, 'Out of the Darkness' Television/Video Journalism – Feature Amelia Moseley, ABC, 'What to Do if You've Been Doxxed' Amelia Moseley, ABC, 'What to Do if You've Been Doxxed' James Wakelin, ABC, 'Snowtown Stories' Radio/Audio Journalism – News Reporting, Briana Fiore, ABC, 'Losing Ashleigh – Asthma in SA' - WINNER Briana Fiore, ABC, 'Losing Ashleigh – Asthma in SA' - Angus Randall, ABC, 'Community Grapples with Snowtown Accomplice Parole' Visual Storytelling Bill Ormonde, ABC, 'Out of the Darkness' - WINNER Bill Ormonde, ABC, 'Out of the Darkness' - Lincoln Rothall, Che Chorley, Jody Kestle & Michael Clements, ABC, 'Protecting a Predator' Multimedia News or Feature Briana Fiore, ABC, 'Ex-Brethrens on Breaking Free' Briana Fiore, ABC, 'Ex-Brethrens on Breaking Free' Nicholas Maher, ABC, 'International Law & Democracy Explained' - WINNER Nicholas Maher, ABC, 'International Law & Democracy Explained' - Bill Ormonde, ABC, 'Broken Hill High School Mould Outbreak' Best Rural/Regional Journalist Eugene Boisvert, ABC, 'South East SA Stories' Eugene Boisvert, ABC, 'South East SA Stories' Bill Ormonde, ABC, 'Body of Work' - WINNER Bill Ormonde, ABC, 'Body of Work' - Amelia Walters, ABC, 'A Voice for Victims, Placement Poverty Burning Out Medical Students and Love that Defied the Odds' Business, Economics or Finance Report ABC News South Australia, ABC, 'Whyalla Woes' Culture and Arts Report Jack Evans, ABC, 'BTN High – Class of Cabaret' - WINNER Jack Evans, ABC, 'BTN High – Class of Cabaret' - Sarah McLean, ABC, 'South Korean Recluses' Political Report Stephanie Richards, ABC, 'One of 'Fewer than Five'' Social Equity Report Cale Matthews, ABC, 'South Australia's Accessibility Problem' Cale Matthews, ABC, 'South Australia's Accessibility Problem' Stephanie Richards, ABC, 'Uncovering SA's Baby Removal Practices' - WINNER Sports Report Eugene Boisvert, ABC, 'Inclusive Sport in South East' Eugene Boisvert, ABC, 'Inclusive Sport in South East' Neil Cross, ABC, 'In the Pool, in the Game, in the Saddle'
Sydney Morning Herald
an hour ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
Orlando Bloom and Katy Perry officially confirm they have split
Katy Perry and Orlando Bloom have officially confirmed the end of their almost decade-long relationship with a public statement following weeks of media speculation. The pop superstar, 40, and her 48-year-old actor fiancé announced the split in a joint statement to US media. 'Due to the abundance of recent interest and conversation surrounding Orlando Bloom and Katy Perry's relationship, representatives have confirmed that Orlando and Katy have been shifting their relationship over the past many months to focus on co-parenting,' the statement read, per People magazine. 'They will continue to be seen together as a family, as their shared priority is – and always will be – raising their daughter [Daisy Dove, 4] with love, stability and mutual respect.' The relationship had been under heavy scrutiny in recent weeks as Perry embarked on her world Lifetimes Tour, which included dates in Australia last month. Bloom joined Perry and their daughter for her Perth shows, but the reunion came just a few days after he reportedly blasted her widely criticised April space flight. According to a New York Post report, Bloom slammed the flight as 'embarrassing' and 'cringeworthy' while the pair were in the middle of a row, but travelled to Perth a few days after the altercation was reported. Despite his criticism of the space flight, Bloom then attended the wedding of the man who made it possible, Jeff Bezos, when he married Lauren Sanchez in a lavish multi-day celebration in Venice last week. Meanwhile, Perry continued her Australian shows.
