In Australia

Sat - September 6, 2008

Brisbane Arts: Darby Ross, XStrata, No Go(ma)

Our final

stop in Australia was a brief layover in Brisbane, whence we departed for Los Angeles and point east. We had only a day to spend there, and had three surprises: two most pleasant and the other quite disappointing.

Good things first: there is a wonderful exhibition curated by Simon Wright at the Dell Gallery of the Queensland College of Art at Griffith University. Darby Jampijinpa Ross: making it good for the people opened on August 22 and runs through September 28. It is the first retrospective--indeed the first solo show--awarded to the old man, who died at the age of 100 in 2005.

Of course, Darby has always been something of a media star in addition to one of the foremost painters in the history of Warlukurlangu Artists. He narrated the SBS documentary Jardiwarnpa (1993), directed by Rachel Perkins and Ned Lander. (Jardiwarnpa itself is a recasting of a 1967 documentary and a 1980s film by Eric Michaels about the Warlpiri fire ceremony.) In the 1990s, he was one of the inspirations for the Bush Mechanics series. And posthumously, he is the subject of a marvelous biography by Liam Campbell, Darby: one hundred years of life in a changing culture (ABC Books, 2006).

Wright has been working on this exhibition for nearly two years, collecting works from public galleries and private collections and assembling over fifty paintings ranging from the earliest works in the 1980s to Darby's last canvases, completed in 1999. Many, like the "Ngapakurlangu (Rainwater Dreaming)," shown below and in the inset above, the largest known work by the artist at 91 x 351 cm, have never been publicly exhibited before.

Darby Jampijinpa Ross, "Ngapapkurlangu (Rainwater Dreaming)," 1989
The exhibition was officially opened by Darby's niece, Ormay Gallagher, who travelled to Brisbane with arts centre manager Cecilia Alfonso. In November it will travel to the Araluen Gallery in Alice Springs, where it will be on display through January 2009.

Ormay Gallagher and Cecilia Alfonso at the opening
The second pleasant surprise was the 2008 Xstrata Coal Emerging Indigenous Art Award ... although there's a disappointment bundled in here, as this will be the last in the three year series that has showcased some incredibly strong art in its brief existence. The very good catalog for this show, however, fails to do justice to the installation and to the lively imagination represented therein. The selection of artists and artworks spans the extent of inventiveness and tradition in Indigenous art today. Milly Kelly's powerful, raw colors from the Western Australian deserts were hung in striking juxtaposition to Glenn Pilkington's intelligent and indeed cerebral photographic reconstructions of urban country: the contrast worked both thematically and pictorially.

Pilkington is represented by the Mossenson Galleries, who had three other artists in the show, Loongkoonan, who also paints WA country, though with a more refined brush, and the pair of naive Utopia sculptors, Dinni Kunoth Kemarre and Joie Kunoth Petyarre. Their mixture of cowboys, eagles, and perhaps most surprisingly, a set of chairs and table captured yet another version of country, one that tells the story of co-existence with incoming settlers, of adaptation and reconstruction.

But without a doubt, the star of the show and the winner, most deservedly, of this year's prize, was Gunybi Ganambarr, whose two large (two meter) barks and three three-meter larrakitj poles put me in mind of the spires and windows of the grandest Gothic architecture; at the same time they appeared to be blasted out of living, writhing steel. In short, they were among the most startling works of art I've seen lately.

Ganambarr achieves his effects by reducing his palette: the yellow ochre has gone a muddy brown, while red had been replaced with gray that oddly serves to foreground the remaining, traditional black and white. This turns out to be a remarkable variation on the experiments with buwayak or invisibility that his compatriots have been experimenting with in the last five years. The reduction in value and hue combines with the complexity of design to nearly obliterate the vision of the rainbow snake Burrul'tji from these platforms. The density of visual impact in the bark paintings is heightened by the carving: not content to score the surface with cross-hatching, Ganambarr is literally incising the marks into the surface of the wood.

Detail of minhala, longnecked turtle, carved on an early example of a larrakitj by Gunybi Ganambarr
Ganambarr has been creating striking, carved larrakitj for several years now, memorial poles on which the representations of totemic animals have been presented carved in low relief against a background of painted geometric clan designs. Having made the representational elements in these poles stand out by virtue of their sculptedness, he has then disguised them by covering them with the same intricate geometric patterns of the "ground" design painted on the pole. In these new works, he takes the entire project a step farther, and carves deep incisions into the geometry of the abstract designs as well, recasting the relationships among lines and solids in a way that echoes the tensions between abstraction and presentation in more conventional, recent Yolngu art--if indeed much recent Yolngu art can even be classed as conventional. These works constitute a conceptual and a physical tour-de-force and once more assert the position of the Yolngu in the forefront of developing Indigenous art.

After being treated to such a magnificent presentation of new work (not forgetting Daniel Walbidi's Klimt-like abstractions or Beaver Lennon's new adventures in portraiture and landscape), I am almost ashamed to carp about the complete lack of any other Indigenous art on display in Brisbane's Gallery of Modern Art. But after visiting last year and seeing the extraordinary display of art from Queensland, presided over by the imposing sculptural magnificence of Arthur Koo'ekka Pambegan's "Flying Fox Story," and Ron Yunkaporta's splendid law poles, I found it hard to swallow my disappointment.

In fact, I found it very odd that there appeared to be not a single work--of any description--from GoMA's permanent collections on display. I don't think I've ever visited a museum before to find only temporary exhibitions installed. The installations of Modern Ruin were undoubtedly the most moving and intelligent presentation of video I've ever seen in a contemporary museum; the Picasso show was packing in school children (though we gave it a miss)...but still I was unsated.

I must admit, though, that I felt better after walking over to the Queensland Art Gallery where I could feast on Papunya Tula boards, including work by Yumpululu Tjungurrayi, an extraordinary painter whose paintings are unfortunately elusive, Groote Eylandt Barks, and ultimately, the amazing Sidney Nolan retrospective, which finally made me understand why he is Australia's most celebrated modern artist. It's a brilliant show, and one I wish I could revisit. If you can't see it, the superb, excellent, first-rate bookshop of the QAG/GoMA (which features the most reasonable overseas shipping of any bookstore in Oz), has a special on now for purchases of the retrospective's catalog.

Darby Jampijinpa Ross, "Karlanjirrinpirri (Swallow Dreaming)," 1994 Thanks to Simon Wright for the photographs; portrait of Darby Ross by Christine Lennard, courtesy of Warlukurlangu Arts

Posted at 10:48 PM

Sun - August 31, 2008

The 25th National Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Art Award Ceremonies

The Silver Jubilee of the National Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Art Award (NATSIAA) was certainly an interesting affair this year as the ceremonies were scaled down and focused a bit more on the artists than on collectors, as art centres withdrew their entries in protest over the appearance of works sponsored by Agathon Gallery, and as judges Hetti Perkins and Judy Watson awarded four of five prizes to artists from remote communities in the Northern Territory, in sharp contrast to last year's rout by Queenslanders--one of whom, Dennis Nona, returned to win again for a second year in a row.

But I'm going to leave all that aside--mostly--for now. There's plenty of thinking that needs to be done on the themes that the Awards raised this year. In the meantime I'm going to give myself an interval for consideration and instead try to complete my reportage before what little I still can recall falls off the memory shelf. I'm almost to the end of this year's travelogue, and I'm staying on mission until I've completed it.

It's not often that I get to see the Award show: this is only the third show I've seen hung, and only the second time that I've attended the Award ceremonies. However, last year, the Museum and Art Gallery of the Northern Territory mounted a web site that provided excellent documentation of the entries that made it into the award show. This year they have outdone even that stellar job with a web-based presentation that's nearly as good as being there.

From this Silver Jubilee web site, you can view a short film that takes you on a tour of the galleries, for the first time affording a sense of what the hang looked like to those who couldn't be there. It's far from perfect: mid-sized works fare the best in the 360-degree panoramas, smaller works can be invisible, larger works are suggested by just a slice of their full extent. Alick Tipoti and Craig Allen Charles's works on the ramp have gone missing altogether, and you can't really tell how innovative and gorgeous Marie Josette Orsto's canvas is, or how truly awful Tommy Watson's, from this quick video tour. But it is a revolutionary idea, and I hope that next year the production will be longer and more detailed. I'll never forget this exhibition, thanks to the efforts of the MAGNT webmasters.

The presentation of the individual art works, though, is first rate. It comes in two versions: straight HTML for those with low-bandwidth connections to the internet, and a Flash version that incorporates audio files for each work. This audio accompaniment reproduces the often extensive wall texts from the exhibition, texts that were in many cases authored by the artists themselves. This critical commentary is a rich enhancement to the documentation, surpassing even previous printed catalogs.

Also available from the site are PDF's of the sales information brochure and the "room brochure" that highlights winners as well as listing all the works in the exhibition. Taken together, these inventories constitute a veritable cornucopia of documentation, a production that deserves a "Highly Commended" in its own right.

For more media coverage, check out ABC Radio National's Awaye! website in the next couple of weeks while Daniel Browning's interview with curator Franchesca Cubillo and judges Hetti Perkins and Judy Watson is still available for download.

The Award Ceremony itself seemed more low-key, DIY, and relaxed this year than on my previous visit, in 2005. No blankets and bottles being passed out beforehand, no big party afterwards (although Nabarlek showed up to play for the artists' barbecue). There were performances and speeches of course, and there was an undeniable strain of politics embedded therein. But the frenzy of previous years--well, maybe I just missed it.

The evening opened with a short set by the Kenbi Dancers from Belyuen, across Darwin Harbour from the Museum grounds where the sun set spectacularly over the course of the evening. They presented several short and humorous narrative dances, including a story of a buffalo hunt that would resonate later in the evening when the Wandjuk Marika 3D Award went to Nyapanyapa Yunupingu's retelling of the "Incident at Mutpi" during which she was attacked by a buffalo.

The Kenbi Dancers on a Buffalo Hunt

The second act, Ngarukuruwala, fused vocal performances by the Wangatunga Strong Women's Group from Bathurst Island with a small band of jazz, blues, and reggae stylists playing a surprising assortment of Western instruments--not just your basic guitars and drums for this mob, but French horns and bass clarinets in the mix. The women, according to their web site, don't think of themselves as a choir: they comes together to sing, and the accompanists are likewise free-flowing and somewhat improvisational in their approach. (Ngarukuruwala was honored at this year's NT Indigenous Music Awards, announced on August 29, sharing Traditional Music Award of the Year with Muyngarnbi--Walking with Spirits.)

Ngarukuruwala, featuring the Wangatunga Strong Women's Group

The sense of Ngarukuruwala as community performance was enhanced by the reactions of members of the audience, including this Tiwi lady, who got up to dance along with the songs, and a pair of young girls (one of them, as it turns out Will and Dhalulu's lovely daughter Siena from Yirrkala) who improvised their own ceremonial dance steps on the sidelines.

Next came the formal speeches, led off by Allison Mill's welcome to country and an a capella rendition of "The Arafura Pearl." And here I must confess that my reporter's instinct grew weak, and my memory will not redeem me honorably. Marion Scrymgour provided the official opening, addressing the history and importance of the Award. Rupert Myer, Chairman of the National Gallery of Australia, offered a keynote address for the Jubilee occasion, stressing the importance of Indigenous art to Australian culture as well as to Indigenous lives, and the important role that the NATSIAA plays in both spheres. Geoff Booth from Telstra Countrywide affirmed Telstra's continued support for the Award.


Allison Mills	Rupert Myer


Mawalan Marika	Marion Scrymgour

But Banduk Marika, an entrant in the original 1984 competition and winner of the Bark Painting award three years ago, owned the speaking platform for the evening. She too spoke of the continuing importance of art and of the Award to Indigenous culture. She stressed the need that Indigenous people have always had to explain their culture, to assert it in the face of indifference. She spoke of art as the key curriculum in the bush university, and about its place in a society where books are not the vessels of cultural transmission. She ended with a rousing call for two-way education, for the recognition of the need for Aboriginal children to be schooled in the stories and secrets of both cultures to which they belong.

Banduk Marika

And finally, of course, there were the awards themselves. Mawalan Marika joined Geoff Booth onstage for the presentation of the evening's first award, as mentioned above, to Nyapanyapa Yunupingu for "Incident at Mutpi," a work of startling innovation, combining bark painting with a video in which she tells the story of a nearly fatal encounter in the bush with a wild water buffalo. Once again, the artists of Yirrkala have achieved a breakthrough performance, as Nicolas Rothwell aptly noted:

On a night when the judges opted for classical finesse in most categories, Yunupingu's work stood out for its charm, verve and immediacy, as well as for its bold fusion of media. It is the first traditional northeast Arnhem Land bark to portray a personal experience, and the first explicit self-portrait in the form, which has been a byword for solemn religious symbolism until now. ... Will Stubbs, co-ordinator at the Buku-Larrnggay art centre in Yirrkala where Yunupingu paints, praised her free-flowing style, and highlighted the multimedia Mulka studio's video collaboration in the piece: "Why is this video so good?" asked Stubbs. "Because there's a black hand holding the camera, editing, inputting the translation sub-titles" ("Bark and video work spans the ages," The Australian, August 16, 2008).

Nyapanyapa Yunupingu (behind the podium) accepts the Wandjuk Marika 3D Award

Dennis Nona's win in the Work on Paper category for "Dugum" was surprising only in that I can't remember an artist being honored two years running. I have to confess that I have never been a fan of Nona's work, but in walking through the exhibition just prior to the start of the awards ceremony, I was struck by the power of this work, by is economy and clean lines: it was truly, as another viewer noted, "a jaw-dropper."

Geoff Booth looks on while the award to Dennis Nona for Work on Paper is accepted by Michael Kershaw of the Australian Art Print Network, Nona's agent and publisher.

I was was surprised, too, to hear Doreen Reid Nakamarra's name announced as winner in the General Painting category. Not because her six-by-eight-foot "Untitled" canvas isn't a jaw-dropper even in this artist's startling oeuvre, but because I'd not expected to see Papunya Tula given a nod. It's been years since an artist from PTA was honored: if I'm not mistaken the last time was when Kenny Williams Tjampitjinpa won the Major Prize in 2000. Given the regularity with which artists from the other leading community art centres, especially Yirrkala and Maningrida, figure in the top awards, the Kintore and Kiwirrkura mob has been unaccountably absent, and it was good to hear the drought had broken. Good also to hear Nakamarra affirm, "I paint only for Papunya Tula."

Doreen Reid Nakamarra at the podium for the General Painting award

The most emotional moment of the night for me was the award of the prize for Bark Painting to Terry Ngamandara Wilson for the small "Gulach -- Spike Rush." I later heard that the old man had broken down in tears when informed of his selection, and I think there were more than a few moist eyes on the lawn when the decision was announced. An unassuming work, "Gulach" is refined even by Ngamandara's polished and elegant standards. Given the monumentality--not to say excess--of many of the works in the Award show this year, it was doubly heartening to see this tiny gem recognized for it power and beauty.

Terry Ngamandara Wilson receives the award for Bark Painting

And finally, of course, the nod to Makinti Napanangka, the second award for the evening for Papunya Tula, and for many in the audience, the final affirmation of the art centre model (yes, my slip is showing), to which Paul Sweeney gave eloquent testimony in accepting the award on the artist's behalf. The painting itself is another surprise: Makinti has been working through rougher and rougher variations on the hair string motif for several years now, injecting an astonishing sense of physical vigor into the design of her works, then lacing it with the sweetness of pastel highlights. The award-winner, rather than representation a culmination of that trajectory, tosses aside the simple striped patterns she has been working and thrusts large swathes of fervid brushstrokes into an uneasy equilibrium across the picture plane.

Paul Sweeney accepting the Major Prize on behalf of Makinti Napanangka

And then, suddenly, the program was over, winners lined up to have their photos taken and spectators lined up for admission to the Gallery to see the show. We decided to come back the following day and enjoy the work at our leisure, rested, and ready to devote a few hours to it. We decamped for the Botanic Gardens, some excellent curry for a late supper, and a tour of the startling new graphic work from Yirrkala that was on view at the Galuku Gallery of painted trees and spotlit lorrkons--but that, too, is a story for another time.


Nyapanyapa Yunupingu	Terry Ngamandara Wilson


Paul Sweeney	Doreen Reid Nakamarra

Posted at 03:17 PM

Sat - August 30, 2008

Darwin Aboriginal Art Fair

The second year of the Darwin Aboriginal Art Fair was, according to everyone, a rousing success and a large step forward from the inaugural event held a year ago. Nineteen art centres participated and the new venue in the Darwin Convention Centre (actually in the same rooms where the MAGNT Foundation dinner in honor of George Chaloupka was held the night before the Fair's opening on August 14) was judged to have contributed to the success of the event.

The Fair was officially opened by Marion Scrymgour, whose re-election to the post of Deputy Chief Minister of the Northern Territory had been confirmed scant hours beforehand. Looking back now I can see her remarks as the first of many that would be made by a variety of speakers over the course of the weekend to commend the works and the importance of art centres to the sustenance of Indigenous artists.

The Hon. Marion Scrymgour with DAAF's organizer, Apolline Kohen
Certainly, the evidence of the art on display with the hall was hard to argue with. I understand that last year's exhibition focused on what was characterized as the "low end" of the art centres' offerings. While there were certainly good bargains to be had this year, and the very nature of the display spaces seemed to favor works of a modest size, this was not a bargain market by any means. In a quick circuit of the room I saw a cross section of works by artists that would have constituted a major exhibition if the venue had been a state gallery.

Papunya Tula Artists had canvases by Makinti Napanangka and Patrick Tjungurrayi, Doreen Reid Nakamarra and Johnny Yungut. Warmun Art had brought a significant work by Jack Britten. Regina Wilson's paintings graced the walls of Durrmu Art's booth, while large works by Paddy Japaljarri Sims and Judy Napangardi Watson hung at Warlukurlangu Artists.

One wall of the hall was occupied by the members of the new Kimberley Aboriginal Artists: Waringarri, Warmun, Mangkaja, and Mowanjum. The presence of Gab Titiu Cultural Centre from Thursday Island in the Torres Strait was a welcome surprise; Tjanpi Weavers lent an air of whimsy and delight; and representatives from the Western Desert Mob were getting ready to join forces with their Kimberley associates for the kickoff of the "Buy Right Way" campaign, already in evidence with t-shirts for sale at several booths.

Apolline chats with John Oster of Desart and Chips Mackinolty, advisor to the Minister
The excitement of the participants was irresistible; it took me several circuits of the room before I was able to settle down at all and really look at the work that was on offer. (My first selection was another of the lovely, miniature works that are coming out of Warakurna Artists, produced variously by emerging artists, children, and pensioners in the Wanarn Aged Care Art Program.)

Eventually I realized that I needed to start taking some photographs of the event. I was able to capture fewer than half the participants, as I was too shy to fight my way through crowds of buyers to ask permission to take a picture, or I got distracted on running into friends. Eventually, after several hours on the floor, I needed to find food, which was unfortunately in short supply (or more precisely, completely unavailable) at the Convention Centre or environs. So with my apologies to those I missed, here's a selection of the participants, presented alphabetically by art centre.

Harriet Fesq of Durrmu Arts posed with me in front of a new work by Regina Pilawuk Wilson

Anthony Murphy from Injalak Arts & Crafts

Michael Stitfold from Kayili Artists

Charmaine racks up another sale from Papunya Tula Artists

A riot of color at Tjanpi Weavers

Edwina Circuitt with Warakurna Artists' chair Eunice Yunurupa Porter

Cecilia Alfonso and Gloria Morales of Warlukurlangu Artists

Liz Laverty chats with Jackey Coyle-Taylor of Warmun Art Centre

Posted at 11:57 AM

Sun - August 24, 2008

Art Around Town (Darwin)

For three days in August, there's really too much art to see in Darwin.

That was part of the reason that we arrived early: we thought that with a week to prowl the city, we'd be able to appreciate all that the Darwin Festival, the Darwin Aboriginal Art Fair and the National Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Art Awards had to offer. Well, we did better than we had on our previous outing in 2005, but we still managed to miss the Tiwi Arts Network exhibition down at Browns Mart (which everyone said was brilliant) and the new print editions of work from Waringarri and Jirrawun at Northern Editions (ditto).

Among the shows that opened on the weekend of the Art Award, we managed to catch the group exhibitions from Maningrida at their downtown shop and from Buku-Larrnggay Mulka Centre in Yirrkala out at Framed. The former was necessarily small, but featured a good cross-section of work, including a second Dirdbim (Full Moon) weaving by Marina Murdilnga and a number of other interesting new weavings. The show from Yirrkala was eye-popping, a mixture, like the Maningrida survey, of established and emerging artists. For my money, the smaller bark by Wukun Wanambi, a borderless vortex of black and white fishes, Wawurritjpal or sea mullet, swirling through the waters at the mouth of the Gurka'wuy River, was possibly the single most striking piece of the whole weekend.

We'd been able to spend a good bit of time out in Parap during the earlier part of the week, where there's plenty to see now that five galleries showing Indigenous work are located in the Parap Shopping Village. Stalwarts Raft Artspace and 24Hr Art have been joined by the newcomers at Outstation. The Tiwi Art Network also has its headquarters here, and Nomad Art has moved from its tiny old space into the lower level gallery formerly filled by Raft. So there's now a village to visit, and the synergy that these five spaces create will be interesting to watch.

I've already written a bit about Outstation, whose offering From Wirrimanu featured some surprising new work out of Balgo, most especially a dark canvas by Miriam Baadjo that showed the compositional influence of her uncle, Wimmitji Tjapangarti, who grew her up. Several works by Jimmy Tchooga were the other standouts in the exhibition, melding classic desert iconography with Balgo color in a simpler style than the painter usually adopts.

The group show at 24Hr Art was an extremely odd mixture. Julie Gough's mixed media installation, "Aftermath," overwhelmed me with its complexity. Gary Lee's "investigations ... of Aboriginal male beauty," "Maast Maast," finally crossed the line into pornography, requiring that the door to the gallery be locked at all times against the accidental entry of minors. Maybe it was fitting irony that the best work in the show, I thought, was the charming animation curated by Jenny Fraser, "Big Eye." The Claymation retelling of the story about how the turtle got its shell and the echidna its spines had all the exuberance you might expect of youngsters who have discovered the thrill of artistic expression and achievement for perhaps the first time.

Over at Raft, Freddie Timms and Rammey Ramsey shared the gallery's walls, and made for an interesting contrast as colorists. Timms builds paintings using strong primary colors in combination with weightless pastels. There is more complexity to the compositions these days, but for all that the works look to me like particolored Holsteins. Ramsey on the other hand maintains his hieratic presence, producing works worthy of Adolph Gottlieb but with a gentleness and a paint-handling technique that is somehow both raw and sophisticated at the same time. As a body of work, these canvases by Ramsey were the clear winners of the weekend.

The other astonishing body of work on view in Parap this weekend was the folio of prints, Custodians: Country and Culture, at Nomad Art. Featuring ten artists from across remote Australia and printed by the legendary Basil Hall, this is perhaps the finest collection of prints I've seen. Each work is stunning in design and execution. The color handling and overlay in the print by Judy Watson Napangardi is of premier quality, and the gradations of tone in Regina Wilson's work equally impressive.

But the work that thrilled me was "Nayuyungi and Nakurrurndilhba" by Lofty Bardayal Nadjamerrek. The old master's figures float on a ground of translucent washes that capture the surface of a cave's wall with striking verisimiltude, and the overlay of colors and printings brings to life the generations of custodians who have cared for the rock art in Bardayal's country. Margie West points up the emotional impact of this print in her essay on the collection:

Over the past few years he has been passing on his artistic legacy to younger members of his family and to emphasise this, his print includes a superimposed image painted by his grandson Gavin Namarnyilk. The imagery here is particularly poignant, because it symbolises the age-old transferral of custodial rights and responsibilities to the next generation. In this way Aboriginal culture continues to endure, to be reinvigorated and to inspire.

Nomad was also deeply involved, in conjunction with Buku-Larrnggay Mulka Centre, in this year's Galuku Gallery show at the Botanic Gardens, but that's a story for another post.

Paul Johnstone at Cross-Cultural Art Exchange (CCAE) once again hosted a spectacular show from Papunya Tula Artists, headlined by a large and visually stunning work by Patrick Tjungurrayi. But every work in the exhibition was a knockout, from stalwarts like George Tjuungurrayi, Makinti Napanangka and Walangkura Napanangka to newcomers like Rubilee Napurrula. Rubilee is Wintjiya Napaltjarri's daughter, who began painting after dancing for the opening of the new painting studio in Kintore in 2007. Her imagery is quite unlike any other painter's from Kintore and she's shown a great deal of creative growth over little more than a year's time.

One of the strengths of this show is the relatively modest scale of most of the works in it. Despite its small (91x46 cm) size, Johnny Yungut's black and white work is one of the strongest and most dramatic in the show, and among the best work Yungut has done in years. Similarly, Jack Giles has a compelling pearl-shell meander in red and white that does a slow burn while two works by Nyilyari Tjapangarti at 61 x 55 cm vibrate like molecules under intense pressure.

Paul Johnstone of CCAE in front of a detail of Patrick Tjungurrayi's 183 x 244 cm Untitled.
In the end, we managed to miss all the official openings, the dancers from Waringarri, the champagne around town, the breakfast spread at Browns Mart. But we took our time, and revisited several of the shows in the course of the week. After all, we were supposed to be on vacation, weren't we? Sometimes you need a week to see three days worth of art.

Coming up next, I hope to get photos from the Darwin Aboriginal Art Fair and the NATSIAA presentations up. But we're back in the States now, and tomorrow marks the return to work and the official end of the vacation, so it will be a few days before I continue the story.

Posted at 06:57 PM

Fri - August 22, 2008

Concert on the Esplanade: Nabarlek!!

The Darwin Festival opened on August 14 with a traditional free concert on the Esplanade sponsored by Santos, the oil and gas company. We'd received invitations to the Telstra-sponsored preview of the 25th National Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Art Awards (NATSIAA) the same night. In the end, it was no contest: Nabarlek was headlining the Esplanade show. Since Gurrumul's concert, originally scheduled for the following Saturday, had been rescheduled to the 29th of August, this was going to be my big chance for Indigenous music. Plus, we'd been watching for days from our hotel room windows as workers built the stage and surrounds across the street. We felt like we already had a commitment.

(As an aside, one of the most astonishing facets of this trip was the ubiquity of Gurrumul's music: it was the soundtrack at CAAMA in Alice Springs, where the clerk told me they sold 31 copies in 24 hours the day I was there in July; at the MAGNT dinner for George Chaloupka; at the Star Shell in the Botanic Gardens before acts took the stage; and yes, in between sets at the Santos concert. The man and his new album have gone beyond being a phenomenon: he's verging on being a way of life.)

Going to the concert turned out to be the right decision all around. In the first place, I got to experience Darwin itself in a whole new way. The audience was amazing in its diversity. I'd expected to be one of the oldies in the audience, but based purely on demographics, I was strictly middle-aged. This was clearly a community night out, Darwin celebrating itself as much as the music. I've heard a lot from the locals about Darwin's tolerance, about the mix of people who call this place home and find ways of accommodating their differences.

Seeing it in action was a whole 'nother thing. I was surrounded by tiny gray-haired women, kids in board shorts, and carefree thirtysomething couples. When Naomi Pigram opened the show, the dance floor (that is, the first few meters right in front of the stage) was occupied by a troupe of children under the age of ten, many of them considerably under the age of ten. Some of their parents later joined them as darkness fell and Shellie Morris took the stage.

The concert officially opened as Allison Mills gave the traditional welcome to country on behalf of the Larrakia people. This was to be the first of many appearances by Mills in the course of the weekend, and it was traditional only in the broadest sense: a Larrakia person welcomed us to the land. Her delivery, though, celebrated that Darwin spirit with a rendition of "The Arafura Pearl" in which she accompanied herself on ukelele.

Naomi Pigram comes from the extended clan of musicians that dominate the scene in Broome, and she included a Scrap Metal (proto-Pigram Brothers) tune towards the end of her set that showed she could bring on the beat. Accompanied by only three guitarists, one of whom often played bass, she showed great range stylistically, and certainly got the audience in a good mood.

Naomi Pigram
Shellie Morris appeared onstage about thee minutes after Pigram closed her set. This kind of smooth transition and good organization on the part of the concert managers characterized the whole evening. Morris took the tempo up a notch, again setting a pattern that would continue for the rest of the night. While she clearly shares the singer-songwriter roots with Naomi Pigram, Morris's larger band was tighter and bouncier and made even the slow tempos buzz.

Shellie Morris
A conversation in broken English with the guys sitting alongside us on the grass was the prelude to realizing how big the Timorese community in Darwin is, and how devoted to Cinco do Oriente they are. Fronted by Ego Lemos, CdO had a huge part of the crowd singing along, and the dance floor soon filled with his compatriots bouncing to the beat. In fact, the amazement I'd experienced at the number of people turning out to see an Aboriginal band suffered a severe reality check at the end of CdO's set, when large numbers of people rolled up their blankets and slipped away into the night.

Cinco do Oriente, led by Ego Lemos
Just as quickly, the lawn started to stream with Indigenous kids making their way up to the dancing space. Nabarlek came on loud and strong, and the decibel level drove a few more people off, enlarging the dance floor. Just as well, given that the "garage band that never had a garage" had the rest of us rocking to the beat and needing the extra space to swing. I don't think I ever before sang along to songs I'd didn't know the words to with quite such fluidity and joy as I did that night.

Like each of the performers who preceded them on stage, Nabarlek gave the crowd a tight, professional set. But a nine-piece powerhouse with mad didj lines and three lead vocalists is a hard act to beat. The set was a collection of great songs, ranging from "Bushfire" and "Land of My People" through the signature "Najorrkon" and their inimitable version of "Down Under." As good a concert recording as Nabarlek Live is, he sound is thin compared to the presence the band really projects from a stage.

All in all, the concert was one of the best organized, best played, and most engaging I've attended. I didn't think I'd last four hours sitting on the grass without complaint, but it was easy (and of course by the end I was sitting anymore). I was as impressed by the crowd as I was by the talent on stage. Even the security forces there to enforce the no-alcohol policy were pretty discrete for most of the evening. Where else but Darwin could you find such a mix of local talent, Indigenous musicians alongside their Asian neighbors, keeping an intercultural and intergenerational audience singing and dancing like that? It was a great kickoff to the Darwin Festival, one that made me wish I'd be around to see more of it.

Posted at 03:42 PM

Sat - August 16, 2008

MAGNT Honors George Chaloupka

[Note: I've fallen far behind in my chronicles of our adventures, but Darwin at the opening of the Festival and the NATSIAA will do that to a blogger. Much more to follow in the days ahead.]

On Wednesday night, August 13, the Museum and Art Gallery of the Northern Territory's Foundation sponsored a dinner at the Darwin Convention Center to honor George Chaloupka for his contributions to the study and preservation of Aboriginal rock art. Energy Resources of Australia has funded a Research Fellowship in Chaloupka's honor, offering a $25,000 stipend for each of the next three years to a scholar who engages in exploration or documentation of rock art sites, consultation with Indigenous owners, or further study based on materials of Chaloupka's already in the collections of MAGNT.

Wendy James, president of the MAGNT Foundation presided, and her husband Earl served as Master of Ceremonies, introducing the several speakers, including, via DVD, The Hon. Tom Pauling, Administrator of the Northern Territory, who reminisced about expeditions through Arnhem Land with Chaloupka, and commended his contributions to the scholarship of rock art. Anita Angel introduced the great man himself, and gave a lucid and moving summary of his career and his achievements.

Chaloupka himself spoke of the critical need to preserve what he called the largest and most important rock art assemblage in the world. Older and more extensive than the more famous galleries of France and Spain, Indigenous rock art galleries document a long, continuous tradition, spanning prehistoric hunting, contact with Macassans in the last five centuries, and the arrival of Europeans on the Antipodean shores. Chaloupka stressed the human element that is so important and unique to Australian sites, and ended with an impassioned plea for more work in the area of conservation and preservation. His final remarks noted that there is no one better positions and equipped to construct such work than the youngest generation of the Indigenous landowners: they are in place, have the cultural background appropriate to the task, and need only to be trained in methods of conservation.

On a personal level, I had the honor and the enjoyment of being at the Deputy Chief Minster's table. Marion Scrymgour turned out to have a wickedly funny sense of humor, a sharp memory, and an equally incisive intellect. For the most part, though, the talk at the table was casual and light-hearted, politics being swept aside for a respite after the days following the election. Chips Mackinolty was there as well, and shared the advance news that MAGNT will be receiving $300,000 for conversation and documentation of their collection of Papunya Tula boards, in advance of a national and international tour. Minister Scrymgour officially announced this news two days later, on Friday night at the National Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Art Awards.

We left after the raffle in which four prints of rock art and autographed copies of Chaloupka's Journey in Time were distributed, well fed, well entertained, and inspired: in short, ready for the opening of the Darwin Festival, the NATSIAA, and the "art tsunami," as Anita Angel described it.

Posted at 11:00 PM

Tue - August 12, 2008

Re-Learning Darwin

We've been reminiscing a lot on this trip about our early visits to the cities we've come to. It was almost fifteen years ago that we first landed in Darwin, and the city's grown tremendously since then. We were also here at Christmas, and the heat and humidity were staggering. That was the trip when the photographs of Kakadu all came out with a lavender cast to them when we developed them. And we learned that if your watch isn't waterproof, you can sweat it to death. Truth.

Darwin's been lovely this time, cool and breezy, and we've enjoyed walking the Esplanade and trying to piece together our memories of that first trip. The Old Town Hall looked familiar, and the overlook at the Wharf, but we couldn't quite make the mental map click.

Then today we had lunch with Wayne Fan, the representative of the NT Government on my trip through the remote Indigenous art world last year. As I've said many times in previous posts, Wayne's just a great bloke, a smart man with a large heart. Conversation was thoughtful and intriguing, and went beyond simple nostalgia for out journey together. As we left the restaurant where we'd stopped for lunch, Wayne offered to show us to the taxi rank "near the old Woolie's."

As soon as he said that, the geography of the CBD snapped back into place, and I knew where everything was, got my bearings back, and remembered that trip from fifteen years ago with a clarity that brought delight with it. All was right in downtown Darwin again, the sense of being at home suddenly returned.

I had a similar moment of stars aligning, or the cosmic grid snapping into place later in the afternoon as we were preparing to leave the premises of Outstation Art, a new gallery that's opened in recent months in Parap Place. Building on the success of Raft Artspace, and the presence for some years of 24Hr Art, Outstation, Nomad Art, and the Tiwi Art Network have combined to build an Indigenous art gallery neighborhood that promises a bright future for Darwin.

We spent about an hour in conversation with one of Outstation's two partners, Matt Ward, who formerly worked for Maningrida here in town. The other partner is Ben Danks, a former field officer with Papunya Tula Artists. Together they have decided to present the works of emerging artists from a broad cross-section of art centres in the Territory and in WA, cutting across the Desert, the Kimberley, and Arnhem Land. There's a freshness and an enthusiasm to their approach that was infectious, one that it shines through in their new show of work from Balgo.

And it all snapped into place, like finding the Old Woolie's, when I asked them to pose for this photo.

Territory mates try to get serious about art: Matt Ward, Luke Scholes, and Ben Danks at Outstation Art's show of emerging Balgo artists, From Wirrimanu
This is actually the second or third attempt at a serious group portrait. That's Matt on the left, Ben on the right. Luke Scholes (in the middle) is up here to help out his old mate from PTA during the big art week: Ben's first son was born Sunday night. As they tried to fall into line, the teasing and joking revealed an easy affection and an unrestrained delight in what they're engaged in here. That sort of optimism clicked: it's great to feel it in these uncertain times. I came away from the encounter thinking that there are still new ways to build partnerships between galleries and art centres, still people out there who are willing to work hard on behalf of the artists, and who find good spirits along the way.

I'm hoping that the blokes at Outstation have set the tone for me for the rest of the week. We've seen great art already there, and at Raft Artspace, where Rammy Ramsey and Freddie Timms do the Jirrawun mob proud. I'm looking forward to the delight of the Darwin Aboriginal Art Fair, the surprises of the NATSIAA, and the general hubbub that's sure to ensue over the next few days. I'm ready to do it all with a smile.

[Note: This was post #300]

Posted at 08:09 AM

Mon - August 11, 2008

Alice Forever Changes

They say that if you see the Todd River flow three times you'll never leave Alice Springs again.

I've seen water in the Todd twice, and I haven't given up hoping.

I first arrived in Alice Springs nearly twenty years ago during the week between Christmas and New Year's, after eight cyclone-struck days in Cairns. After the humidity, the rains, the lowering clouds of the coast, the sharpness and dazzle of color, of sky and rock in Alice made me feel like I was being born again. And every time I return I understand all over again what the romance of the Outback is all about. Although it was curiosity about Aboriginal art that prompted that first trip to Australia, it wasn't until we arrived in Alice that the curiosity took root and grew into interest and eventually blossomed into passion.

So, for the moment, coming back to Alice (as opposed to never leaving it) has its charms.

The best of these charms always seem to center on Papunya Tula Artists. We've gotten past the stage now where we'll spend all afternoon sprawled on the floor looking at every single canvas spread out to entice potential customers. Our knowledge of Papunya Tula painting has grown to the point where such an education is no longer critical to an appreciation of the works that have been hung on the walls; our knees have grown old enough to protest at the mere thought of it.

Other pleasures have replaced those earlier ones. Chief among them is the chance to have lunch with Daphne Williams, now that she's no longer running the shop and can be tempted into an extended chat off the premises. There's always news to catch up on, stories about children and complaints about complaining knees to share. Casual talk about paintings that we've seen in the shop, or more serious talk about changes in government (in both our countries) somehow always seem to lead Daphne into stories that reach back into her time managing PTA. She never fails to astonish me with her simple, matter-of-fact delivery: what I might have thought of as momentous history is, in Daphne's telling, just another day at the office, and one in which she herself always plays an ancillary role. The good woman redefines modesty.

Catching up with the rest of the staff in the gallery always feels like a homecoming of sorts as well, and meeting new members of the crew offers the promise of friendships to come. Paul Sweeney was looking dapper and distinguished: that touch of gray at the temples suits him. We missed Brigida, but caught Marg and had the pleasure of being introduced to Charmaine, who was charming indeed, warm, and welcoming. We were honored this year to have Luke and Sarita invite us to their home for tea on Saturday afternoon; we got so caught up in swapping stories that they almost forgot to vote!

Ben, Sarita, and Daphne say "Barramundi!"
If Papunya Tula represents a constant in our Alice Springs adventures, much else changes from visit to visit. One of the most startling changes on the Todd Mall in recent years has been the growing distancing of "fine art" galleries from tourist emporia. Twenty years ago you could buy paintings by recognizable Indigenous artists in the same shop that sold boomerangs and ersatz didjeridus. This year we noticed a proliferation of white-wall galleries throughout the town center, although almost every wall was covered with variations on the Utopian bush leaves motif or with reprocessed imagery from Minnie Pwerle's catalog.

The most dramatic of these changes is surely what I jokingly referred to as the "Mbantua Subdvision" of the Todd Mall. The modest storefront on Gregory Terrace long ago expanded into a museum and cultural centre. Now Tim Jennings is expanding his frontage onto the Todd Mall itself. The man is a genius at marketing, there is no doubt. He offers paintings from Utopia in a wide range of formats and sizes, from tiny paintings that straddle the line between starter and souvenir to small swatch-like designs that grow progressively larger until they become panels and standard canvases. It's a brilliant concept. And, now, writing from Darwin, I've seen his similar store in the Holiday Inn. In between, I was tempted at the Alice Springs airport by a Mbantua-brand Greeny Petyarre mousepad.

The Todd River itself looked to be deserted most of the time that we crossed over it. I couldn't tell whether winter or policing explained that change in the townscape. There were plenty of Aboriginal people around town itself, gathered as always in front of the Church on the mall or enjoying the winter sun on greenswards elsewhere around town.

We managed to catch up with John Oster over lunch at the Alice Plaza, and trekked out to the Araluen Galleries to buy beanies and revisit the Papunya School Boards. Ros Premont was in Gallery Gondwana on Friday, looking fantastic, and showing off a dramatic new set of works from Adrian Robertson and Billy Benn.

Somehow, we never made it to all the other places on our list--except to the Post Office, where we crossed paths again with Charmaine while I mailed off the collection of books that had been increasingly expanding my suitcase since Melbourne. There will be lots of reading for me to report on in the months ahead. (Book of the moment is Benjamin Genocchio's Dollar Dreaming: inside the Aborginal art world.)

All too soon, as always, it was off to the airport. You can imagine my surprise when I heard someone calling my name on the way to the gate. No one ever recognizes me in an airport, least of all in a tiny one halfway around the world from home. But indeed, it was Edwina Circuitt from Warakurna Artists, along with Judith and Mrs. Porter. They were between connections and heading off to spend a couple of hours with friends in town. We only had a few minutes to catch up before my flight to Darwin was called, but those few minutes gave me a taste of the week to come in the Top End.

Posted at 04:03 AM

Sat - August 9, 2008

Laverty Collection at Newcastle Region Art Gallery

Our last day in Sydney wasn't even spent in Sydney. Jonathan and Penny picked us up from our hotel early for a drive up the coast to Newcastle where eighty paintings from the Laverty collection are on display at the Newcastle Region Art Gallery (NRAG), and where I had been invited to give a gallery talk.

Ron Ramsey, whom we'd known from his stint at the Australian Embassy in Washington, DC, is now the director of the Art Gallery. We worked with Ron and Lisa Slade to arrange the trip and the talk, and were excited about the prospect of seeing Ron again, and seeing this lovely gallery. The entire upper floor was given over to the exhibition of works on loan from the Lavertys, and it made for a most impressive sight.

Well over half the space was devoted to art from the Central Desert, and over half of that space to works from Balgo. The remainder of the exhibition showcased art from Jirrawun, Peppimenarti, and Bidyadanga, along with four spectacular examples of Body Marks by Prince of Wales. Ron is planning a barks show, drawn in part from NRAG's own collection for the coming year, so that was one aspect of the Indigenous spectrum missing from this show.

Ron Ramsey, Director of the Newcastle Region Art Gallery, gave me a warm introduction.

An audience of approximately ninety (!) people showed up for the talk, demonstrating the impact that the show has made in Newcastle. Another hundred were signed up to come the next day to hear Colin Laverty himself speak on his collection and the stories behind the acquisition of many of the works from communities. Mind you, these were events scheduled mid-week and mid-day, which ought to give you an idea of the enthusiasm for both the show and the Gallery itself.

A large, diverse, and appreciative audience
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Posted at 05:50 PM

Thu - August 7, 2008

Yiribana Gallery, AGNSW

While in Sydney, we naturally went to the AGNSW to see what was on display. The Yiribana Gallery was long one of my favorites, the first place I came to depend on for regular, excellent displays of Indigenous art. The selection and presentation of work was always stunning. The first painting I really fell in love with was Willy Tjungurrayi's Tingari Story from 1986, and on each return visit to Yiribana it was waiting for me in all its splendor.

It was there as well that I first understood, in 2001, what all the fuss over John Mawurndjul was about. There were four enormous barks lined up one after another and the power of the abstraction left me literally speechless. It was all shimmer and wonderment, and before I left Australia on that trip I'd purchased my first bark painting. Not a Mawurndjul, but a very nice Dird Djang by Mick Kubarkku.

There was another visit--maybe it was the same one that made the Mawurndjul magic--where a number of large canvases by Emily Kngwarreye gave me a similar insight into the old woman's power. All the newspaper stories and the catalogs proclaimed her majesty, but the Art Gallery of New South Wales made a believer out of me.

But now I've got a bone to pick with them.

Quite simply, the Yiribana Gallery is in a shocking state. The floors are abraded, chiseled, broken, and spotted. Whoever thought they could get away with a black and white floor that looks like a bad dot painting ought to be brought up before the Board of Museological Aesthetics. The exhibition case where the Tiwi tutini used to stand is gone, but you can still look through a window at the Museum's storage space if you get tired of the art.

Maybe I was just cranky because workmen on a badly greased mobile lift were sawing away at the ceiling while I was trying to watch Destiny Deacon and Michael Riley's film, I Don't Want to be a Bludger. But it was more than that. It was also the fact that despite the capacious screening room that had been built in the middle of the exhibition space for the film, the audio system was completely stuffed. Almost anywhere you stood in the gallery, no matter what painting you were looking at, you could hear the film's soundtrack.

The only place the soundtrack wasn't audible was from the seats in the screening room. So you could listen to the sound of the soundtrack while not watching the film, or you could watch the film and imagine what you might be hearing if you were standing somewhere else and the workmen had gone on smoko.

OK, yes, I was cranky and out of sorts. For once I found the selection of works on display less than inspiring; in fact I had a suspicion that some of them were chosen to appeal to the Biennale crowd who might otherwise be dismissive of Indigenous art: there was more irony and oddly at the same time less edge than I cared to see.

But my real complaint is that the space--it's the basement for heaven's sake, isn't that bad enough?--is getting run down, and the art is suffering. It's hard to make even great art look great in shabby quarters, and the Yiribana Gallery is definitely getting shabby. With GoMA and the Ian Potter Centre's glories to compare with, the once-proud, once mighty collections at the AGNSW appear a bit depressed these days. I doubt that the curatorial staff is feeling much better.

I understand from Sydneysiders that the economy in NSW is about to tank, if it hasn't done so already, but this neglect has been going on for years now. I can only hope that someone among the senior management of the Gallery will take action to treat this magnificent collection as the the crown jewel, not the bargain basement.

Posted at 08:04 AM

Wed - August 6, 2008

Of Barks and Biennales

In addition to the Papunya Painting show at the Australian Museum, we were fortunate enough to catch another exhibition that I'd previously known only from its catalog, They Are Meditating at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Sydney. Like the Papunya show, this one made me realize how poor an experience even the best catalogs can offer--and these were very good catalogs. But in both cases, and this should really be no surprise, though it was, the physical presence of the paintings was a revelation.

Perhaps scale is a critical factor in my response to these two shows. The Papunya paintings were majestic and grand; the barks in the MCA show were mostly quite small. And it seemed often that the intimate size of them worked in surprising ways.

The best paintings in the show--indeed the best room of the five devoted to the Arnott's collection--were those by Yirawala. The sheer variety of styles that the master exhibiting in the relatively short span of time during which these works were collected would be enough to qualify for a significant show in itself. But the mastery, the vivacity, the draftsmanship! Small mardayin paintings made clear just how great the debt the modern Maningrida masters owe him: in one of Yirawala's works on display here you could see the genesis of the mature styles of both Mawurndjul and his brother Iyuna.

Mimihs and mardayin by Yirawala at the MCA

In other tiny pieces, the energy and life force and sheer exuberance of dancing mimih spirits were conveyed beyond compare. If I were ever to need convincing that these are the spirits that originally painted their images on cave walls and in doing so taught men how to paint, I would need to go no farther than these tiny gems to become a believer. All the joy that art induces can be found in the few square centimeters that Yirawala has graced us with.

The other big surprise of the exhibition was the work of Dick Ngulangulei Murrumurru. In the first hall we looked at, each time I'd be taken with the composition or the draftsmanship of a work, I would consult the gallery guide to discover that it was by Murrumurru. The range of styles was astonishing, from finely crafted barramundi to delicate, dynamic spirits like the trio in this unusual piece.

Mimih spirits by Dick Ngulangulei Murrumurru
The controversial foyer by Richard Birrinbirrin turned out to be something on an anticlimax, and overdone at that. Some commentators felt that curator Djon Mundine was reducing sacred design to the level of decor; some of Birrinbirrin's countrymen claimed he had no rights to the design he painted. One report I heard was that after the show's opening "words were exchanged" on a QANTAS flight back from Sydney to Darwin, and all was amicably resolved by touchdown.

Richard Birrinbirrin's painted foyer for They are Meditating
Sharing space at the MCA and almost every other art venue in town was, of course, the Sydney Biennale. My interest in Aboriginal Art was born twenty years ago in part out of my profound dissatisfaction, disillusionment, and boredom with contemporary art in America; the Biennale did little in any of its venues to convince me that I missed anything in the last two decades. There is entirely too much video in most Biennales, and although William Kentridge's piece here was compelling, I found it the exception rather than the rule. Penny said she wants art to make her think, or to awe her with its beauty; we agreed that not much happened on either score at the Biennale.

In fact, in the afternoon that we spent on Cockatoo Island with friends Jonathan and Penny, I was often more intrigued and amazed by the rusting hulks of the shipyards machinery than I was by the art installed alongside them. We most certainly won't be returning to any of Mike Parr's exhibitions in the future. Vernon Ah Kee's toilet-based installation was about as appealing as Parr's work, and perhaps even more offensive to the sense of olfaction.

Vernon Ah Kee's portraits at the Sydney Biennale site on Cockatoo Island
But Ah Kee's enormous family portraits in pencil and chalk were worth the effort it took to find them amidst the abandoned industrial halls of the Island. The directness of the gazes, the beauty of the execution, and as Jonathan pointed out, the haunting strains of "The Internationale" drifting in from the exhibit hall on the other side of the walls combined to lift us out of the moment, just the way the best art ought to. These portraits were the best work I saw in any of the Biennale's venues. The other location where I caught some of the Biennale was at the Art Gallery of New South Wales, but I'll leave that to another post.

Posted at 06:35 PM

Sat - August 2, 2008

The Great Australian Wars

We've had two extraordinary nights of theatre now. After the second our friend Jonathan commented that in the space of a single weekend we'd managed to experience Australia's two greatest wars.

Friday night we saw Nigel Jamieson's Gallipoli at the Sydney Theatre Company. No Indigenous content here, but a world-class piece of theater-craft. Just about everything about this production works to perfection. It tells the story of the Australian entry into the Great War through the letters and diaries of those who took part; the staging is inventive, innovative, and serves the story without overwhelming it or (harder still) upstaging itself. I don't think I learned a lot of history that I didn't already know, but I came to feel quite differently about what I saw. I never really appreciated how long the siege at Gallipoli lasted, and it was one of the marvels of this production that it took me to the edge of discomfort in making me come to that realization, but never pushed me quite over. It is art that educates without vanquishing the spirit. Even the occasional somewhat intrusive allusions to Iraq seemed more acceptable the morning afterwards.

The second war was very much an Indigenous affair: the destruction of Tasmania as interpreted by Bangarra in the new production Mathinna. Incredibly, I had the chance to talk for a few minutes beforehand with David Page in the lobby of the Drama Theatre at the Sydney Opera House, where Mathinna is playing through August. He characterized the production as a return to an earlier style of choreography for Bangarra, one that focuses on character and narration.

Mathinna tells the story of "a girl's journey between two cultures." She is a young girl separated from her family and her natal culture, transplanted into the white world of strange clothing and schoolrooms. When she is ultimately abandoned by the white family that adopted her, she is terrorized and raped by a gang of convicts and finally sinks into the dismal prison and distorted prism of alcohol.

Although narrative dominates in a way that I had not seen in other Bangarra productions (most recently for me, Boomerang) and the characteristic Yolngu dance aesthetic is entirely absent from this piece, it is still filled with strikingly beautiful and haunting imagery. In the very first seconds of the dance, Patrick Thaiday's hands slip out of the darkness to cover a rock that lies in a tiny circle of light downstage; as he streaked, straining body emerges from behind the light, he looks like a creature taking form as it comes to life.

The next sequence is probably the most exotic and amazing in the entire evening as three dancers suspended upside down from a horizontal crossbar bring Tasmanian muttonbirds to life. The strength of the dancers, the suppleness of their bodies, the absolute control of the slightest movement, and the grace of their metamorphoses is utterly beguiling.

The concluding moments of the evening are equally amazing in their own very different way. As Mathinna gives in to the anesthesia of alcohol, her colonialist's dress fall away from her and she lies down behind a row of large glass jars stretched across the edge of the stage. The image of her face fills the largest of them, distorted and ghostly. As the lights fade, the whole stage shrinks until there is nothing left but the specter of Mathinna's face trapped inside and behind the jar like a Victorian specimen preserved in formaldehyde. It is shocking and beautiful and heartrending all at once, and like some of the effects in Gallipoli the night before, it does not so much teach you a new lesson as make you feel quite differently about an old one.

Posted at 06:24 PM

Fri - August 1, 2008

Papunya Painting

Our first goal upon arriving in Sydney was to visit the Australian Museum and see the Papunya Painting: Out of the Desert exhibition that is on show here now from the National Museum of Australia in Canberra. I had written an extensive piece based on the catalog and website for this show at the start of the year; I was quite impressed by the wealth of information that the two together offered about the show, the painters, the decade.

Nothing in either could have prepared me for the experience of the paintings themselves.

This is one of the most stunning shows of Indigenous art I've ever seen. There is no lack of drama in the presentation: here, as in Canberra, the halls are darkened, the paintings precisely framed in rectangles of light that make them float across the field of vision. The sound of old men singing fills the dim rooms. The museum was nearly empty the afternoon we arrived, and so the paintings themselves were the most significant and demanding presence in the space: all of this made the experience almost otherworldly.

But the size of these masterpieces! It's one thing to intellectually measure off ten feet by six feet when looking at a reproduction of Uta Uta's 1981 Yumari; it's quite another to stand below this giant old man, to be dwarfed like a pilgrim in the light of a stained glass window in some magnificent cathedral. Perhaps it's the sheer verticality of the image poised at the opening of the exhibition; perhaps it's the fact that it is one of the first canvases you encounter looking out of the shadows. There's no denying the power of the image, and that power is reinforced throughout the exhibition by videos that detail its creation.

The rest of the show is arranged in a rough U-shape, with the large paintings dominating the outer walls. The roundels and orange/yellow masses in Billy Stockman's Budgerigars in Sandhills float up off the surface of the canvas vertiginously like flocks of birds frozen in mid-ascent; near the upper right corner of the canvas a swirl of larger white dots mimics the sudden ascent of the birds from the sandhills.

At the far end of the wall Timmy Payungka's network of Tingari sites is anchored to the edges of the canvas, but just barely. The straining tension of the skein of connections between the roundels lifts the whole image off the surface of the canvas like a geodesic dome straining to break through the plane of the painting. It's a remarkably dynamic, keyed-up work.

Left to right, Billy Stockman, Timmy Payungka, Long Jack Phillipus

Across the way Long Jack's Making Spears tells a story similar to the one made immortal by Turkey Tolson, but in a completely different idiom. Here the swirling lines that radiate from the large central roundel dance and wriggle across the canvas: the power of the image in its movement is immediately evident. Once you look at the wall text, take in the story of the men straightening their spears before the battle, notice the three-meter long spears mounted on the wall next to the painting, you can, when you look back at the painting, almost hear the weapons sing as they whistle through the air.

And so it goes, masterpiece after tour-de-force. The power of the paintings in this exhibition is astonishing It was worth coming all the way to Sydney to experience it.

Posted at 08:15 PM

Thu - July 31, 2008

Pictures from an Exhibition

On Wednesday night, July 30, we were Bev Knight's guests at the opening of the Melbourne Art Fair. Eighty galleries were expected to draw 3,000 guests over the course of an evening. I'm not sure what the numbers actually turned out to be, but it was a non-stop evening. We didn't even manage to visit all the booths that were featuring Indigenous art that evening, and at some of the booths we weren't able to take even a quick picture. But to give you a sense of what was there on opening night, and with my apologies to those I missed, either on the floor or with the camera, here are a few pictures from the exhibition.

Alcaston Gallery featured Gulumbu Yunupingu and Billy Benn among others

William Mora's exhibition of work from Maningrida

Tolarno Gallery feautred a neon installation by Brook Andrew

Vivian Anderson had works from Tjungu Palya on offer

Utopia's Christopher Hodges, sculpture and sculptor, with Emily and Doreen Reid Nakamarra

When we dropped in to say hello to Dallas Gold (left) at Raft Artspace, we were delighted to find Luke Scholes from Papunya Tula Artists in town visiting

Samantha Pizzi looking lovely flanked by Christian Thompson; Henry Skerritt and Diane Mossenson had knockout new work by Shane Pickett at Mossenson Galleries Collingwood

Bev Knight from Alcaston Gallery posed with Harvey before the night ended

Posted at 07:38 AM

Sun - July 27, 2008

A Day with Adrian Hyland

Writing this blog for nearly three years now has led to many surprising and delightful encounters, often in cyberspace, but occasionally in the real world as well. I spent a lovely day in Melbourne on Sunday with Adrian Hyland, author of Diamond Dove (Text Publishing, 2006; in the US published as Moonlight Downs, Soho Press, 2007). Diamond Dove is an Aboriginal crime novel, of sorts. It is a story told by Emily Tempest, a young woman who returns after a decade's absence to the Desert community of Moonlight Downs where she grew up...just in time for the murder of the community's elder. The plot rollicks on from there, but the true delight of the book for me is in the cast of characters, blackfellas and whitefellas, who could only have come from the most distant corners of the Northern Territory and, even more, in the exuberant language of the narration. Diamond Dove is that truly rare bird: the crime novel that is more enjoyable the second time you read it. Both times you read it you'll laugh out loud.

Adrian and I have been exchanging email messages for the better part of two years now. We finally met face to face on a chilly, rainy Melbourne winter day, with plans for brunch that quickly escalated into a vigorous walking tour of Brunswick Street from Alcaston Gallery (at no. 11) to Joe's Garage (no. 366) where we stopped to refuel with an excellent lunch.

Our walk took us past wrought-ironed terraces and high rise blocks where immigrants settle up through the hippie precincts that were part Oxford Street (Sydney) and part Macdougal Street (New York). Along the way conversation ranged from Adrian's years in the Territory, working as a stockman and miner and administrator, to the novels of Oran Pahmuk; and from the emergence of the last Pintupi from the desert west of Kiwirrkura in 1984 to Adrian's plans for the next novel featuring Emily Tempest. (I had a glimpse of a good chunk of the hefty manuscript, which Adrian says is about three-quarters complete, but no sneak preview of pages or plot.)

He told us the story of the Russell Street bombings (and Adrian's subsequent encounter with one of the accused). In a less ominous mood, he gave us the lowdown on the sacking of Melbourne's tram conductors and the attendant loss of local color and character. Adrian also alerted us to the packs of tram inspectors who roam in the conductors' place, seeking out the hapless and the dishonest on public transport.

Even better, Adrian shared with us a few cultural sites in Melbourne that we might never have ventured into on our own. At the beginning of our peregrinations we stopped in at St. Patrick's Cathedral, where a High Mass was in progress, replete with incense and a choir that sounded truly heavenly. Even on a dark morning, the church was extraordinarily beautiful, graceful, and peaceful.

At the end of our journeys we found a different kind of sanctuary in the State Library of Victoria whose mighty LaTrobe Dome (see below) over the main Reading Room spoke of a more earthly majesty. The Library was Adrian's haunt as a youth; as an adult, he wrote much of his first novel within it. His affection for the building was evident and contagious.

Author, author: With Adrian Hyland (on the right) in the State Library of Victoria's Reading Room, under the LaTrobe Dome (left)
I have never before enjoyed Melbourne quite this way and quite so much. Days like today make all the hours spent writing this blog worthwhile.

Posted at 07:25 AM

At the NGV Australia

Reunion

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