TSI Artists- categories

Some interesting discussion took place in this week's tutorial on the subject of categorisation in Torres Straight Islander art. Of note was that no one really held a black and white view (as it were) on whether categorising their art, and art broadly, was a good thing. The question seems pointless in an artistic sense, because it is already answered sociologically. We naturally categorise things in order to understand them more readily; not to do so would be too cumbersome and far too "PC".  If I were to try and explain the function of a new prototype car I had developed to the shareholders who are funding it, I would not begin with Mr. Benz's invention of the combustion engine, I would simply state that it was a new type of CAR, and explain the differences from there. The initial understanding falls into place beautifully and we can all move on. This communication by category is not artistic. It is for the sake of expediency, and artists should not be adverse to labelling themselves for the sake of being expedient. It is only where others wrongly label the artist, where any argument against categorisation has merit.

Alison Page

On the 9th of this month, the ABC's message stick broadcast a profile of Alison Page, an Indigenous designer with a seemingly insatiable appetite for life and Indigenous artistic proliferation. Some of her achievements include the formation of the Slat Water Fresh Water Alliance, the Wilcannia hospital project, the Diamond dreaming range of jewellery, and being part of the expert panel on constitutional recognition of Indigenous Australians. Her attitude is inspiring and is a testament to what can be achieved with a contemporary take on Indigenous tradition. 

The section that most intrigued me was her admission to struggling with her identity as a young woman growing up in Coffs Harbor, a particularly racist town in the mid 1980's.

The show is a canid look into the life of a designer who compliments her craft by imbuing it with her cultural heritage, and is well worth watching. Click here to watch the program.

Tandanya visit (finally)

The first sight upon entering Tandanya's gallery at present is a bleak looking fishbowl with one fish, and the words, "black history", stickered on the front. The fish swims up to investigate you as a newcomer, eyeing you expectantly, like a slave dependant on its master for a meal. It plain stopped me in my tracks. This simple piece perfectly captures contemporary Aboriginal artist Jason Wing's view of his culture's heritage, and its a theme that extends into his other pieces. His exhibition entitled "The Other, Other" follows on from the OZAsia festival, where the collection was also on display. It is a provocative collection that as Jason himself says "..explores the issues of cultural identity and aims to challenge the stereotypes of what is generally perceived to be 'Aboriginal' ". Indeed, it is hard to imagine a more contemporary approach to Indigenous art.

fig(s). 1, 2 & 3 Wing, Jason. "Blacktown Dreaming." glass bottles, goon bags, pillows, spray cans, syringes, plinth, 40 x 200 x 90 cm each. Photography by Adam Hollingworth, 2009.


"Blacktown Dreaming" (opposite) is a provocative piece that brings the blight of remote Indigenous communities to the forefront of the viewers mind. I was impressed by the audacity of the piece, and was reminded of Midnight Oil's famous tune, "Beds are Burning". 

Most of Jason's pieces bear little resemblance to traditional Indigenous practises. As a contemporary artist, he is part of the ongoing debate that has been alluded to in previous posts. Can Jason's work lay claim to being categorised as Aboriginal works, given their drastic departure from traditional methods? Some works use traditional ochers which connect with traditional mediums, but this is where the similarities end. Pushing the boundaries of "what is generally perceived to be 'Aboriginal' " is his right, but not all would want his work seen within that boundary. To many, he may simply be a contemporary Australian artist. 

Jason's work has nearly convinced me to use his exhibition as part of my final project for the course. His work opens the dialogue of what constitutes Indigenous art wide open, and into the discourse of current artistic criticism. Truly inspiring.

getting up close and personal

As per our tutor's mantra, "get up close and look at the art", I went today to the Art Gallery of South Australia to do just that. Feeling skeptical about the difference this would make to my appreciation of Indigenous art, I nevertheless sat and looked. To my surprise, this did indeed change everything. Without being there, seeing the works, one cannot grasp the sense of scale and tactile nature of some of the works. In particular, I was impressed by the bark paintings that were given to the gallery in 1956 by Charles Mountford, who controversially collected hundreds of these types of paintings on an eight month long expedition to Arnhem land in 1948.

Fig. 1 Mamarika, Mimimimi. "The Malay Prau." natural pigments on eucalyptus bark, 43.7 x 86.0 cm (irreg), Umbakumba, Groote Eylandt, Northen Territory: Art Gallery of South Australia, Aboriginal Artists Agency, 1948.

Exhibited as a group of about 12 paintings, it was an emotional experience. Knowing that some had most likely been 'liberated' from the artists, coupled with their tribal rawness and abstraction had a powerful influence on me. I sat down and write the following:

"Looking at the small collection of Indigenous bark paintings in the Art Gallery of South Australia, I have a real sense of history from gazing at the works. These pictures don't belong on a wall- they belong among their people. The patterns they use evoke a sadness, a dispossession. On the surface, the simplicity of the stories they portray is disarming. You're not gazing at reclining figures eating grapes in opulent surroundings, you're staring at survival, the struggle of the next meal."

Hanging nearby is some work from late nineteenth century French Impressionists, and the difference in the visual discourse of the two styles brings the bark paintings into sharp relief. Also nearby were four Tiki 'grave poles', which I commentated on as well:

"Looking at these four grave poles, I imagine a vast series of them marking the graves of many, like a conventional Christian graveyard, but with colour and pattern and personality. A far cry from the mossy, mouldy crumbling stone that marks the graves of their western counterparts, who are remembered only by the earth that bears them. These, however, signify a vibrant culture even in death."

As I wrote this passage, I witnessed two elderly ladies, very much of Western countenance, look briefly at both the grave poles and bark paintings. A question was asked by the first lady (which I didn't catch), to which the second replied, "no, not particularly..", after which they promptly left to view the French impressionist section. They were caught off guard when they realised I was watching them, and the awkward, guilty expressions on there faces were telling.

Evening Shadows

I was struck by many works toady at the art gallery, and very nearly glossed over this particular piece because of its European character. However, having overheard the gallery tour guide giving her speil concerning it, it became clear that it was an extremely poignant and important commentary on Indigenous Australia. Although the piece was painted in 1880, its message is as clear and interesting today as ever. H J Johnstone, the European artist who was formerly a photographer, captures the dwindling nature of Indigenous Australia in 1880, a century after first contact. His photographic background is self evident in this detailed and beautifully lit scene. The overwhelming impression from this work (our tour guide explained) is one of a culture in decline, destined to be remembered only on canvas. His subtle hues of purple and pink, the calm reflections in the water, and the forlorn, weary faces of the characters within are visual cues that signal a sad acceptance of this decline.

fig. 1 Johnstone, H J. "Evening Shadows, Backwater of the Murray, South Australia ". oil on canvas, 120.6 x 184.1 cm, London or Paris: Art Gallery of South Australia, Adelaide, 1880.

Yet over a century after the painting's inception, indigenous culture is arguably gaining back its momentum and heritage with a vengeance. Contemporary Indigenous art and culture is flourishing once again, and if Johnstone was alive to paint it again today, in all likelihood the water would be flowing, the fire burning bright, and its title would read, 'Morning Shadows'.

Origins: A folio of prints from contemporary indigenous Australian artists

fig.1  

fig. 2   

fig. 3 

fig.1  Abdulla, Ian. "Way to Go!" Screenprint, Printer: Paul Peisley. 

fig. 2  Puruntatameri, Thecla. "Tunga." Etching, Printers: Basil Hall, Toni Bailey, Monique Auricchio.

fig. 3 Marion Baker, Valerie Cullinan. "Tjala." Linocut, Printers: Toni Bailey and Jenny Allen.

Of the twelve works in this folio, I was particularly struck by the 3 pictured above. The latter two are wonderful, sophisticated works from contemporary artists who have terrific sense of space, proportion, contrast and harmony- all visual qualities that any designer (like myself) would want. The first, however, fails to live up to that standard. Ian Abdulla, its creator, is more traditionally a painter, but his screenprint of Kerin Perkin's win in the Olympic 1500m freestyle entitled "Way to Go!" was included as the first print in this folio. Curators Avril Quaill and Susan Jenkins describe the piece as having a "sense of support for the underdog and captures this hard won victory against the odds"[1]. Whilst Abdulla's crude imagery deliberately mirrors this 'underdog' victory, the composition is too symmetrical and dull. The crudity would have been better served with a more striking angle and background. The simplicity of the geometric patterns in the other two prints shows a more mature and sophisticated approach to space and harmony. "Way to Go!"'s inclusion, I feel, is entirely unjustified in what was an otherwise beautiful collection.

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[1] Jenkins, Susan, Avril Quaill, and Workshop Studio One National Print. Origins: A Folio of Prints by Contemporary Indigenous Australian Artists. Canberra: Studio One National Print Workshop, 1997.

Apt quote:

From week six's reading by Hetti Perkins:

"At odds with a premise of modernity- to erase the old with the new- is the apparent conundrum of the world's oldest continuous culture being the wellspring of a dynamic contemporary art movement. Australian Indigenous art resists interpretation outside of its historicity and continues to elude definition in terms relevant to Western art theory."[1]

The apparent 'conundrum' is not easy to escape, given that the historicity could be in danger of being destroyed if contemporary Indigenous art continues to flourish to the point of dominance over more traditional forms. Yet why should this be feared? Westerners do not mourn the diversification of their art forms over the last few thousand years; we embrace them, and gather them all up into a melting pot of cultural history that allows us to inform and progress our societies. This exploration by Urban artists is a welcome addition to Indigenous culture, and should be recognised as such by the more stubborn in their communities.

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[1] Perkins, Hetti. One Sun One Moon. Sydney: Art Gallery of New South Wales, pp11-14, 2007.

Thinking Beyond Abstraction

Quotes from last week's reading by Felicity Fenner that are of interest. She posits that Aboriginal art is viewed mainly as a commodity, and although it generates great awareness of the Indigenous plight (socially and economically), this awareness has little to no bearing on improving their livelihood.

"While western artists tend to paint solely for personal, intellectual fulfilment, the process of painting for Aboriginal artists is also more socio-politically oriented. It is a method of keeping alive traditional cultures otherwise threatened by assimilation."

and;

"Aboriginal ground paintings in acrylic on canvas have been long excluded from the art museum context in Australia as a result of quite artificial structures placed around the question of cultural authenticity." - Bernice Murphy, Perspecta, Sydney: Art Gallery of New South Wales, 1981: 15

and;

"Certainly, the collection fo Aboriginal art, at least in Australia, is sometimes informed by philanthropic impulses, while the desire to own something of another culture inevitably has political overtones. Pursuing this consideration further, one might argue that the market's enthusiasm for Aboriginal art is uncomfortably tied to unresolved issues around reconciliation."

and;

"Yet while the art has secured a sought-after niche in high profile exhibitions and collections, the positive effect that that attention and acceptance has had in terms of land rights, racism and living conditions back home is negligible."

Some of these quotes will be useful in my final essay.

Brief reflection on Susan McCulloch's preface

Firstly, I cannot seem to find the book to which this preface belongs- poor form from the uploader.
Secondly, though this is a short passage, it has some interesting points. It speaks very generally about the revitalisation of the Indigenous art 'movement', and defines the use if new materials and exploration by urban artists as good thing, which it is. Or is it? This particular contention seems to ebb and flow into the consciousness of artistic debate daily, which is very confusing to the lay person struggling, for example, to grasp the significance of anscetral time in traditional indigenous art. Where McCulloch seems to be vibrantly optimistic about the exploration of urban artists bringing new mediums and techniques to their work, Felicity Fenner suggests controversy existed (though she doesn't specify from where) when in 1981

Bernice Murphy included Aboriginal work in the inaugural Perspecta survey exhibition of contemporary Australian art[1], which suggests (although we are well past 1981), that there are some in the indigenous community that don't share McCulloch's high regard for urban artistic exploration. 
So where does this leave Indigenous art's ability to be a 'movement' in a socially progressive sense? Nowhere, it seems. Unless a position is clarified from the indigenous 'factions', the difference of opinion will be a hindrance to their collective goals going forward.

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[1] Fenner, Felicity. "Thinking Beyond Abstraction." Contemporary Visual Art + Culture Broadsheet 38, no. 2 (2009).

Samson & Delilah - A Personal Reflection

A love story, political statement and awareness campaign are motives that spring to mind when describing Director Warwick Thornton’s intentions for his breathtaking film “Samson and Delilah”. This raw and wonderfully paced feature combines the best of modern Australian cinema with the worst of western apathy, through scenes of extensive substance abuse coupled with powerful direction. Thornton has gone a long way to ensure that the authenticity of the film is above reproach, and in doing so guarantees an unsettling experience, where the viewer is drawn into the harshness of the indigenous plight.

Within this suffering however, lies a teenage love story set in the context of modern Indigenous Australia.  It is testament to the human spirit, and to Thornton’s insight, that this love story develops normally, despite the tragic environment. Whether it be a secret view from the back of a four wheel drive at an unsuspecting dancing Samson, or the social ineptitude of a boy who throws rocks at a girl he likes, everyone can appreciate the nuances that embody teenage love displayed here. Samson (played by Rowan McNamara), and Delilah (Marissa Gibson) develop their relationship further when they are exiled from their already fringed community outside of Alice Springs, becoming dependant on one another for survival. However, despite the film taking a dark and traumatic turn from this point on, it ends on a wonderfully optimistic note, with Delilah nursing Samson back to health as she did with her Grandmother earlier. It reflects Thornton’s optimistic view of the future, despite the current hardships. However, as Thornton explains: “…this film isn’t the defining next step in reconciliation. And it’s dangerous for people to have to, or want to, need that”[1]. Instead he motivates individuals to ask themselves what they can do to become part of the solution.

Inequality is an overarching theme in Samson and Delilah, but the cause of that inequality, according to Thornton, is far more important than its effect[2], and there are several ways in which he conveys this. The most effective are the directional choices, from the pacing, soundtrack, hand-held cinematography, and lack of dialogue, which combine to make the sum of the tragic elements more relevant and contemporary. The sparseness of some vital scenes for example, mirrors that of life in the community Samson and Delilah live in, and creates a far more tangible reality than would otherwise exist. Thornton acts as writer and cinematographer too, drawing on his expertise in filmmaking and his own connection to the Katej people who live in central Australia. In addition to directional choices, these aspects further increase the authenticity of the problems depicted on screen, heightening the urgency of the problems shown. In this setting, we are given time to reflect on what may have caused the suffering, how we could have let it get so bad, and more importantly, what is being done to rectify the situation? It is these questions that are taken away from the film, not the enduring impression of substance abuse and violence that could so easily have been the case in the hands of a lesser caretaker.  

Although Samson and Delilah asks these ‘big picture’ questions throughout its relatively short duration, more specific points are scattered throughout the piece. Although it only occupies a small amount of screen time, the portrayal of art as a commodity is one of these, and deserves a larger off-screen debate. After Samson and Delilah are exiled from their community, Delilah attempts to sell a piece of work to the gallery she earlier spotted featuring her Grandmother’s work (part of which Delilah herself may well have painted). She makes a courageous, yet clumsy pitch to the indifferent salesman who rejects her new piece with a disinterested glance. Delilah later returns with a new piece, this time of a terrifying red hand on a black background, thrusting it in the faces of unsuspecting café patrons nearby. Her frustration and incredulity are heartbreaking, and for a fleeting moment we feel personally accountable for her situation, sitting in the café as the on-screen patrons do, eating our extravagant lunches.

However, this short sequence marks a much larger problem with Indigenous art in Australia. Without a firm grasp of ancestral time and the abundance of cultural history poured into Indigenous art, there can be no proper appreciation of the works. What Thornton demonstrates so vividly in this short passage is a desire for the exotic, without an understanding of the context of the work in question. It is exploitation on a level that is difficult to acknowledge in a first world country like Australia. This desire for the exotic exacerbates the problem further, by suppressing any real artistic exploration on the part of Indigenous artists who already struggle to make a living selling to these types of markets. Delilah’s second painting, although ‘un-authentic’ in the sense of cultural tradition, has just as much artistic merit than her first, being emotionally and politically charged to a fantastic degree (see fig.1). In years gone by, Indigenous artists such as Albert Namatjira were criticised for their departure from traditional methods in a similar way[3], and the problem is likely to continue if the western obsession with ‘authenticity’ goes on unabated.

fig.1 Screenshot from “Samson and Delilah”, 2009, Directed by Warwick Thornton.

Amidst the political and social implications however, is the simple story of two teenagers falling in love in a fractured country. It is in this simple setting that the causes of their plight are brought into sharp relief, and we have the time to ask questions that are confronting and difficult to respond to. Thornton doesn’t have the answers, and this is the most unsettling aspect of the film. Despite this, he shows us that there are some things to be optimistic about, and we what we can take away from the film is a sense of urgency in solving the crises’ of marginalisation and exploitation in Indigenous Australia, so that simple love stories like Samson and Delilah’s, can in future be allowed to flourish in safer surroundings.

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[1] Redwood, Tom. "Warwick Thornton and Kath Shelper on Making Samson and Delilah." Metro Magazine: Media & Education Magazine, no. 160 (2009): 34.

[2] Isaacs, Bruce. "Screening 'Australia': 'Samson and Delilah'." Screen Education, no. 54 (2009): 15.

[3] Morphy, Howard. "Review: [Untitled]." Man 28, no. 4 (1993): 817.

Australia: land of the free.

I'm sorry to say that I left last week's tutorial feeling very cynical about Indigenous 'authenticity'. Many of the tutorial participants seemed far too eager to see it perpetuated indefinitely through their art, which I believe may be an antagonizing factor in the disparity of Indigenous living standards compared to their western comrades. What seems obvious to me, is that the desire for 'authenticity' in Indigenous art prevents any artistic exploration and cultural sophistication on their behalf.

The merits of this 'authenticity' were discussed at length last week, from what constitutes 'authenticity', to its departure by artist Albert Namatjira who adopted a very European style of painting (fig.1). But what struck me more than anything was the plight of a certain group of Indigenous artists relayed by Carmel Young, Festival Manager at Tandanya National Aboriginal Cultural Institute, and our guest tutor for the day. These artists were left high and dry when, after switching from traditional ochre paint to more manageable acrylics, their new work was considered 'un-authentic'. Vivid blues and vibrant pinks were too far a departure from the more traditional reds and yellows it seems. Understandably, they reverted to using ochres in order for demand to increase. 

fig.1 Albert Namatjira, "Central Australian Gorge", 1940, watercolour and gouache over pencil on thick wove paper , 53.5 x 36.7 cm, Queensland Art Gallery

If this story has any truth to it, then those who wallow in the 'beauty of Indigenous authenticity' should be thoroughly ashamed. By essentially demanding that no progress or artistic exploration be considered by these artists, their ability to break new ground was being hindered. What kind of cultural progression can be made in such an environment? None, I put it to you. Cultural sophistication flourishes in environments where artistic endeavor is unimpeded. Indigenous Artistic 'Authenticity' is therefore thoroughly mixed up with the never-ending debate on Indigenous standards of living in Australia. And until westerners stop glorifying the historicity of Indigenous art, (that is to say its 'authentic component'), they will find it very difficult to be part of the ever shrinking global society.

Appreciating their history and culture through their art is fine, but satisfying our own lust for primal 'authenticity' to the detriment of their artistic exploration is borderline totalitarian. 

Welcome

I begin, I must admit, with a mild amount of trepidation. My historically acute avoidance of this obviously important subject is not something I am particularly proud of. Nevertheless, I hope and think this trepidation will be misplaced, given the fist week's intellectual temptations.

I was particularly excited for example, by the 'Bradshaw' paintings in the recent lecture- specifically their anthropological importance. If there is any area of this course that will surely ‘intrigue me into action’ it is certainly the history of human artistic endeavour in relation to our evolution. Why and when we bothered visually translating thought and emotion is a question that mixes biology, anthropology, art, design and about a dozen other specific disciplines into a glorious melting pot of inquiry.

Where this line of inquiry will take me is anyone's guess. At present I have virtually no frames of reference from which to springboard my research, other than stereotypes handed down over years of schoolyard ignorance. Unlike others, I cannot add endless amounts of previous exposure on the topic to this first post, (*cough.. Ms G..*), and will not even attempt it for fear of insulting anybody. Yet I will not allow you, dear reader, to think me totally devoid of any knowledge on the subject, and so will pursue it with a keen sense of obligation to the original inhabitants of this land.

Allow me then, to expunge nothing in this first post other than my new-found enthusiasm for what I'm sure others know only too well; the breathtaking majesty of our original inhabitant's visual and cultural imagination.