Aborigines and Architecture
In many of Spencer and Gillen's celebrated
photographs of the Arrernte people, a family can be seen seated in front of a
humpy. We note the old man, his two wives, their children, and perhaps a camp
dog. Donald Thomson photographed the fierce elder Wonngu with his family in a
dry season camp. In his films of
Narritjin at
Djarrakpi, Ian Dunlop lets us watch the
Mangalili family painting under shade shelters they have constructed in their
homeland, as Narritjin instructs his sons in the stories and techniques that
prove their rights to the land.Our
attention is deservedly focused on what these photographs tell us about people
now passed beyond our immediate ken. We can spot traces of body decorations,
and marvel at a nose bone in the old Centralian men. The expressions on the
faces of Wonggu's family members are riveting, the crowd peering out from behind
intriguing. The delicacy of the cross-hatched lines so expertly and
painstakingly drawn on the surface of a sheet of bark astonishes.
What fades into the background is the
spinifex-clad hut, the bark sheets seemingly precariously balanced on
forked-stick supports, the welter of interwoven branches that provide protection
from both sun and rain. In part, I suspect, because we have been conditioned to
think of Australia's indigenous people as nomadic as well as people who have
mastered their environment with simple technologies, we pay little attention to
the built environment we barely see in these photographs and
films.After reading Paul Memmott's
Gunyah Goondie + Wurley: the Aboriginal Architecture of
Australia (University of Queensland
Press, 2007), I will never be able to look at these photographs in the same way.
Thanks to Memmott's scholarship and to the superb design editing UQP has brought
to this hefty monograph, I will now be looking for expressions in sticks and
spinifex as much as in eyes and mouths. Memmott has produced an eye-opening
study of the variety and ingenuity of Aboriginal architecture and told his story
with consummate skill. What I thought might be a dry, technical treatise
instead provides a shifting panorama of technical, social, and forensic detail
that never fails to engage through nearly 400 pages of texts, diagrams, and
photographs.Memmott keeps the reader
engaged in part by refusing to proceed in a lock-step manner. On the one hand
there are chapters that focus on the unique architectural solutions to
Indigneous needs in discrete parts of the country ("Northern Monsoonal
Architecture," or "Spinifex Houses of the Western Destern"). Interspersed are
others that deal more with the cultural considerations that come to bear on how
these architectural solutions are deployed in camps and communities
("Socio-spatial Structures of Australian Aboriginal Settlements," or "Campsite
Behavior in Arid Australia.")And
although these chapter titles might sound like the deadliest entires culled from
a soporific academic conference, Memmott's lucid writing style (assisted by
occasional collaborators on selected essays), descriptive power, and clear
enthusiasm for his subject made me turn the pages at a surprising rate and left
me reluctant to put the book away when other responsibilities called for my
attention. The surprising variations
in structural design strategies employed in different parts of the continent are
not limited to the expected differences between bark and post construction in
the tropical climates vs branch and grass constructions in the desert. I had no
real prior understanding of the extent of stone construction in the south, not
just for fish-weirs and eel-traps, but for dwellings as well. Nor did I know
that in addition to building roofs over their heads, some groups dug sunken
floors within their dwellings to enhance the ability of the shelter's walls to
act as windbreaks. Nor would I have considered the implications that such
sunken spaces required in terms of drainage during heavy
rains.The lesson that Wadigali and
Maljangaba people in the Lake Eyre region built domed structures of tree
branches and weather-proofed them with claddings of mud was a surprise to me.
Even more surprising was the suggestion, based on narrative evidence from the
nineteenth century, that a division of labor, a specialization based on
expertise, may have developed among these "Mud Dome Architects of the Lake Eyre
Basin." Certain individuals were reportedly sought out by their countrymen to
direct the construction of these
punga.
Memmott details the strength of the supporting beams required not simply to
support the mud, but also the weight of the workman who needs to mount the dome
to replenish the mud covering. He also injects some human drama with a tale of
architectural disaster that involves the collapse of one these humpies onto its
luckless occupants after dogs digging at the foundations and heavy rains
combined to bring the structure crashing
down.Memmott does not confine himself
in this survey to documenting traditional structures from pre-contact and
earliest contact days. Within the realm of the traditional, he explores
"Symbolism and Meaning in Aboriginal Architecture," looking at ritual
structures, including the conical mats of Arnhem Land that women use to hide
under during sacred men's business, and also to protect themselves and their
children from strong sun and inexorable mosquitos. He inspects nomenclature and
examines the connections between the names of various architectural forms and
Dreaming stories. In this respect he also describes the bark shelters
constructed by the Wagilag Sisters and the role dwellings play in the Lardil
myth of Thuwathu, the Rainbow
Serpent.The concluding chapters treat
of "Fringe Dwellers and Town Camps," and look "Towards a Contemporary Aboriginal
Architecture." I was surprised and pleased to see that the former chapter
relied on sociological evidence collected by Jeff Collman and presented in
Fringe Dwellers and Welfare: the Aboriginal response to
bureaucracy (University of
Queensland Press, 1988), a book I found fascinating for its insights into
socio-spatial arrangements and culture contact. The discussion in Memmott's
book adds much in the way of visual detail and clarity to Collman's analysis.
The final chapter looks at how the
traditions of ethno-architecture are being transformed from within Aboriginal
society, for example, in the growth of "traveller's camps" designed to meet the
needs of transients." It also explores the interface between those traditional
forms and Western architecture. He looks at the works of the first generation
of University trained Indigenous architects to speculate on the possibilities
for better meeting the needs of Indigenous culture. He notes, for example, the
importance of open space--not a terribly new insight--but one that is placed
within an intriguing discussion of the possibility of "architecture without
walls" that made me stop and reconsider the very nature of my definition of the
term.A book like
Goonyah Goondie +
Wurley succeeds or fails on its visual design,
for as vivd and engaging as Memmott's prose is, explications of architecture
require good illustrations to fully succeed. UQP deserves to win some prizes
for its efforts in this publication. Thirty "boxes," spreads of two or more
pages that combine photographs, drawings, plans and text, punctuate the text,
intelligently inserted so as not to disrupt the narrative flow of Memmott's
text. These boxes often draw together major themes and concepts elaborated in
the chapters in which they appear and act as visual summaries or indices of the
subject under discussion. They supplement other drawings and photographs
interspersed in the text that are also always used to good
effect.The photographs collected and
clearly reproduced here span a surprising length of Australian history, with
some dating as far back as the middle of the nineteenth century. Photographs
are consistently well captioned, including the dates: an important consideration
when architectural styles have been documented only occasionally and in a
discontinuous manner. Where photographs are not available to illustrate a
particular point, reproductions of eighteenth and nineteenth century drawings
and engravings are intelligently used. Eight pages of color plates in the
middle of the book are a luxurious and pleasant
bonus.There are plentiful drawing and
diagrams, with clear, plentiful labels, scale markings, and explanatory texts.
Even the typography displays an unusual and highly laudable degree of
flexibility and intelligence. Gutters and margins expand and contract to
contribute to a layout that brings related material together on a page. Single
columns of text are the rule, but double columns are used occasionally to good
effect. If a box must be placed so that it interrupts the textual flow, a
clearly visible note at the bottom of the page ("Continued on page...") guides
the reader across the break.I
initially approached Goonyah Goondie +
Wurley almost out of a sense of obligation:
here was a major publication from an important publisher of Indigenous studies
on a topic of clear academic significance. I almost couldn't avoid the
responsibility of taking a look. I wasn't at all prepared to be captivated,
stimulated, and entranced by what I found within the covers. It is a book that
is almost certain to change the way you think about and look at Aboriginal
culture.
Posted: Sun - April 20, 2008 at 02:58 PM
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Readings, reviews, and reflections by an American observer of Australian Indigenous art, culture, politics, anthropology, music, and literature.
If you don't wish to leave comments on the blog itself please fee free to contact me directly. Will Owen
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Published On: Apr 20, 2008 02:59 PM
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