Saturday, September 4, 2010

On to Alice Springs

More or less rested, more or less adjusted to missing a day and walking upside down...we boarded an airplane for Alice Springs. It is easy to forget that Australia is a country and a continent. Flying to Alice Springs was like flying to Los Angeles...lots fasterthan driving.Flying over vast landscapes of changing colors, over chemical lakes, sand dunes, mountain ranges...all severe. You can see the water courses from the air, even where there is no visible water: follow the trail of the plants.
Alice Springs was begun in the 19th century with a telegraph station at a spring that was subsequently named after the station master's wife, Alice. At the telegraph station I became more interested in the birds. I looked through Judy's good binoculars at this gallah, the ubiquitous bird of down under. They steal food even more blatantly than the seagulls.
The station was the center of operations for communication, mail, medicine, commerce that was brought in by the Europeans. This was one of the areas where there was little hunting of the Aboriginals, thankfully, although their lives were changed for the worse through disease, abuse, and the destruction of their ecologically sensitive and sacred lands. Throughout the history of the Europeans in Australia, there was a mis-understanding of how Aboriginal society worked, and indeed, worked well. The Aboriginal world view was essentially spiritual with the land as sacred and cared for with serious responsibility by those who were mature enough and wise enough to hold the stories and the rituals that would maintain the land in the Dreamtime, the present and the future all at once.Time, for the Australian Aboriginal was circular and ongoing, much like the Inuit.
There are over 300 language groups (tribes) of Aboriginal peoples. The languages can be remarkably different...not just dialects. Language, symbol and sign language were used to communicate over territories. Aboriginal art was part of the communication systems. Today it is on canvas and in bright colors, painted for the burgeoning art market. However, its roots remain practical : describing food sources and locations, seasonal changes, rituals and ceremonies or stories necessary for the maintenance of the land, in some areas mortuary concerns are also a topic. Shields and barks were carved or burned with information that identified your language group, your territory, your family affiliations (sometimes called skin groups) and acted as your passport or calling card. Sometimes bodies were painted with this information as well to help insure safe travels through foreign territories.
As soon as we entered Alice Springs we went to Mbantua Gallery. Mbantua is one of many, many galleries in town. As far as I can tell they all have honest relations with the artists. Most of them give the artists their materials and purchase the finished product outright and pay a further fee upon sale of the painting from the gallery. the painting above is the one I bought.It is by Pauline Morgan Petyarre. Pauline speaks little English. She has been painting for about 10 years. This piece refers to the Pencil Yam Story of the dreamtime, where 2 seeds were born creating 2 different species of pencil yam. The tubers are an important food source and the plant also attracts kangaroos. Pauline and her people perform increase ceremonies to ensure the productivity of the yam.
Alice Springs is a dusty, windy place, raw looking. It was quite cool, since it was winter, but you can feel in your bones that summer would be a scorcher! The air was desert dry, most of us had bloody noses by the time we left the area a few days later. The whole center of town is devoted to Aboriginal arts. It is BIG BUSINESS. The different galleries represent artists from different area, but dominantly in desert dot style here. Many are either fully Aboriginal owned or have boards of directors which include the artists. The galleries are mostly attached to art centers in the outback which function as production facility, store, bank, medical supply, welfare...Art is the primary employment, especially for the women, in the outback areas that maintain a more traditional or isolated lifestyle. Supposedly it is well controlled and not exploitive.
Before we went to Bojangles Pub for a mixed grill of crocodile,bison (water buffalo), kangaroo, camel & emu, we fed the rock wallabies at the Heavitree Gap Outback Lodge. It claims to be a premier resort, but in the dark...it looks like an old style Holiday Inn motel. It is situated at a gap in the McDonnell Ranges where black footed rock wallabies live. At sunset, they descend from their rocky home to eat. It you sit very still and remain very quiet, they will feed from your hand. One young girl communed with "her" wallaby for such a long time that she could stroke it. Two wallabies had joeys in the pouch. It was interesting to see them contract the pouch to protect their young when alarmed. I had never thought of the pouch as having volitional muscles! I thought it was just a stretchy pocket of skin.
See more photos on Flikr

Friday, September 3, 2010

Sabbatical: Melbourne

What does one do with a sabbatical? August 3, 2010 I got on an airplane and flew to Melbourne, Australia to meet my "new best friends," otherwise known as my tour mates on a Grand Circle Tour of Australia, New Zealand and Fiji. Australia, and the Outback/Red Center in particular, have been on my bucket list for years and years.Many years ago, long before I moved to Minnesota, I went to the SOFA Fair in Chicago and saw my first Australian Aboriginal Art, in the flesh, so to speak. I saw dot paintings of the central desert (The blurry jpg above is x-ray style from northern groups). I was blown away. I think I had been at least vaguely aware of Aboriginal Art before. But seeing the real thing ignited a hunger in me to learn more and see more and to GO THERE. It took probably 15 years to get there...but I am soglad I did.
The trip got off to an inauspicious start! By the time I got to Los Angeles I had lost my Target brand watch, left all my art & journal supplies and and my reading glasses in my living room and had my knee high stockings lose their elastic and fall down! Somehow I managed to get on the plane with a lined journal(which I mostly filled!), a ball point pen and a new watch and effortlessly pass over the international date line and the equator. Can't say I felt any different for it, other than not knowing what day it was. They said it was August 5.
Melbourne architecture is really, really interesting: an unusual blend of styles.Row houses with ornate ironwork reminiscent of San Francisco (this is a brothel); moorish architecture; victorian,edwardian and utterly modern. We did a brief orientation walking,free tram tour. We ate at Victoria Market, which is a huge semi open air market that reminds me of Chelsea Market in NYC. We had world famous sausage there. Then Susan Pomerantz, from Toronto, and I went blasting off on foot to find me art supplies which I found next to the art school(of course)and to go see Federation Square and the rail terminal.Federation Square looks like it might have been built by the same architect as the new Walker. It is beautiful trapezoidal angles and openwork in colors to remind the Australians of their land. Like our new Walker, it has been very controversial and like our new Walker has become a gathering place. It houses among many other things the National Gallery of Victoria where we saw some awe inspiring Aboringinal art and some awe inspiring contemporary art and some less inspiring (to me) 19th and early 20th century art.
On the second day I went to the Melbourne Art Fair, rather like the Navy Pier Show in Chicago. It was full of the biggest and best galleries in the southern hemisphere. What a treat. I saw magnificent Aboriginal art as well as whitefella art. Lots looked like art anywhere...but some seemed to reflect the Australian experience more. Melbourne did not feel foreign...maybe European...certainly cosmopolitan. It was clean, stylish and friendly.
On the third day we arose before dawn to fly to Alice Springs and the Red Center.
Note 1: Melbourne is pronounced Mel-Bunn...no "R" sound
Note 2: prostitution is legal in Australia and New Zealand, hence the brothel.
Note 3: The iron lacework was seen all over town on many 19th cen houses, not just on the brothel It became the fashion when the ships left their pig iron ballast behind.
Note 4: even in the big city the skies sounded different. The bird song was noticeably different.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

collar progress

The boomerang, a weapon for hunting, and the army guys joined and then got smudged with camo-green. hmmm.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

A new collar piece begins

camouflage has entered the scene...a carry over from the battle yarn project. Go to Sue's Luxury Fiber to see more.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Sea-collar?

While I may be adjusting the blacks a bit, I think it is done. The addition of a lightweight handspun mohair took it where it needed to go. The sea creature aspect continues...these seem to be "jelly-fish of memory"? Who knows, it is still a mystery to me. I do think of the threads as memory, connections to the past, to shared histories...

Monday, July 12, 2010

In the flow, with rapids ahead?

I'm not at all sure what these are all about. Zach says this one is kind of scary looking. I agree. It is done now and the Jelly fish/collar/yawning yoni awaits meaning! I know it has to do with memory, femaleness and aging somehow. I have been collecting these collars, real collars, for ages. There is something about their delicacy, their histories, the embroidery and/or lace making, their shapes that captivates me. Most of the collars I am working with were purchased in Northern Minnesota, 2 years ago, when I stayed in Lutsen for a week. This is a detail of the very beginning of the next piece. Yarn and other fiber somehow relates as well....I think as metaphor for memory and female histories. more detail. And then it gets scary to work with as the real collar has been glued in. A commitment has been made to consume the beautiful collar. It is sheer, soft, delicate cotton, worn to near shreds, barely intact. What will happen to it tomorrow?
It is late now and I must stop and relax before bed.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

In the flow

This one is not finished yet. The blacks will be darkened, some whites will be added. This one is called Broken Memory. I'm not thrilled with it, although I like it better in jpg form. This one, completed last night,I am happy with. With this one I am beginning to get a glimmer of the content I am working with. I always work instinctively, driven by materials and some small object or mark to begin. I never see the finished artwork in my mind's eye. I simply begin. But When or Where to begin is always mysterious. It began yesterday afternoon when Zach and I were working on a CSS template together for the gallery. Suddenly I knew I had to begin. I hung large paper and made a yarn-like mark on it and got back to work on the CSS (I learned a lot, by the way.) After dinner the real work began. My hands are gritty, with compressed charcoal ground into the cuticles. I am happy. Several days ago I was wondering if this flow would ever return. Artmaking is so mysterious, a difficult task master/mistress.
So, what am I working with? It seems to me that the issues of memory, aging, nostalgia remain key. All the drawings refer to yarn in some way. Indeed, I am surrounded by it in the studio. As I draw, I think of the deep history of yarn making as functional, needed, mostly women's work. In the New England colonies, households were taxed according to the spinners therein. But here, in the 21st century, I explore handspun yarn as art with a history. In the drawings, it is as though the yarn elements are fragments and arteries of the deep unconscious, of the deep memories we are born with.