The collection of the fox shroud, its soaking in vinegar and drying prior to boiling in a eucalyptus leaf tea in the old copper cauldron.
Category: Studio Practice
Recent Works
Working into the shrouds using ochres collected in Arnhem Land and silk thread stitching is a studio process embedding my self in the bodily sensation of a becoming animal that is the decomposed matter absorbed by the canvas. The pure pigments of earth sit raised on the woven surface while clean thread penetrates the dank weave projecting a slight shadow upon the glittering skin of rabbit glue size.
Autumn 2011 shroud set
I soaked the terribly rancid echidna shroud for weeks in vinegar. After one month of decomposition Adam and I visited the animals we had set up in autumn. As the weather was colder decay had slowed down so we decided to leave them for another month before collection. I also processed the echidna shroud further by boiling it in eucalyptus leaves. It is the darkest shroud yet.
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After 2 months Adam and I took Zephyr and Tepi out to the farm so they could run free. We had a lovely discussion with Steven about our animal art practices and PhD research then collected the shrouds. At home we processed them in vinegar, and one, the possum, in eucalyptus leaves. After removing the fox body we left the shroud at the farm so the maggots and ooze would dry. I have also placed a starling Tepi found at the farm that day on this shroud to decompose.
Autumn shroud set
We had a wonderful morning hosting Kim Salmon and Dave Brown (Candlesnuffer) for breakfast before heading out to Steven and Tony’s farm. There was a chill in the air and we had a big mob of dead this time. A fox, possum, flying fox, white cockatoo, and two magpies all road carnage to put to rest on decomposition beds under the eucalyptus tree. Adam did the hard work as I became overseer and documented proceedings.
We also collected the Echidna, I had left too long. Mold had formed and the thick black ooze had hardened the canvas. I was unsure as to its final outcome. It would need washing off a long soak in vinegar and complete drying out, a hard task as winter encroached. Tepi played with Blondie who was very interested in the freshly defrosting bodies, a sweet possum was particularly enticing.
Animals, People: A shared Environment
The Australian Animal Studies Group (AASG) are holding their 4th Biennial AASG Conference in 2011: Animals, People – a Shared Environment. Its purpose is to “bring together animal theorists and scientists from a broad range of academic disciplines with representatives from non-government organizations, government officials from several nations and representatives from industry, to examine the interrelationships between human and nonhuman animals from cultural, historical, geographical, environmental, representational, moral, legal and political perspectives.” It is held in conjunction with the Environmental Futures Centre at Griffith University, Brisbane. I am looking forward to presenting at the conference in July. I submitted the following abstract:
Animals in Australian Painting explored through practice-led research
This paper examines how practice-led research in painting can enable an experiential understanding of a subject. In this case the subject is the relationship between human and non-human animals in Australia as expressed in painting. Distinct cultural perspectives impact on the levels of involvement between painter and subject, while approaches are informed by individual experience. Therefore my research becomes equally involved in particular intercultural realities in Australia; specifically fusions between Aboriginal and European culture and the intercultural phenomena that constitutes my own identity. Through examining material experiments in my own painting process and the painting traditions of Kunwinjku speakers from Western Arnhem Land, I discuss some current interrelations between human and non-human animals in Australia informed as it is by colonial and Aboriginal history. The theme of the conference ‘Animals, People – a Shared Environment’ can translate within arts practice through the use of materials animals also access or embody. This is a cultural activity that activates awareness of living in an environment shared with animals. Like the foundational practices of hunting and collecting to provide food and shelter shared by human and non-human animals, its practice has been severely reduced and altered by Industrial Capitalism. The impact of Industrial Capitalism on what constitutes this ‘Shared Environment’ is a given in the context of this paper, and emerges through practice despite my efforts to counter its cultural impact.
Completed works
All works featured are animal shrouds, all additional paint applied are natural ochres such as white (delek), yellow (garlba) from Kunwinjku country and some yellow and red from Yuin country. The black charcoal is from Lake Mungo. One work also features stitching using silk thread.
The site becomes embedded into the work as the wind blows the canvas edge over the body, adding marks made with dust, leaves and sunlight or by collecting additional matter such as droppings and tree sap. The bed springs, its frame and the wire mesh holding the body firmly in place also make impressions on the canvas.
The rosella, for example, has no additional pigment as the shroud/environment stains I felt were sufficient.
2011 shroud set
The return to the shroud site is always exciting. The bodies are exquisite to behold in their compelling grotesque beauty. The perfection as they lay in state gradually decomposing, but its what lay beneath, the hidden image that is revealed which I anticipate and seek. With all the debris still attached, feather and claws, dirt and blood, excrement, leaves, there is an embodied stain. But it is the cleansed stain, the returning smooth surface on which I wish to paint that compels me to brush most of it away. I may form attachments to a little remaining, as evidence of solid matter, to give the encounter a little more of process. While the magpie is alluring, it is the bottom cockatoo which surprises. Like an angel this image is born from death with white wings and blackened body, headless in flight. I play with its body still in tact, in love with its perfection in death and hang it on the shroud tree where a large spitfire crawls. The echidna is still too moist, I leave it, so frightened of a failure, longing for an imprint of its multiple spines.
new shroud set
Adam and I set up an echidna, two white cockatoos and a magpie with the help of Steven on Tony’s farm. Our daughter Tepi had a wonderful time chasing Blondie the dog on adventures, one of which ended in a frantic search for her. We found her crying at the top of the hill a bit sunkissed and missing a sock. The farm is green after all the rain, but sheep now struggle against grass seeds in the eye and flies armed with maggots. A forest of thistle now surrounds the shroud site and the tree is healthier, thick with leaves.
white cockatoos
On the same day I saw and collected one dried and one fresh white cockatoo body. The white feathers and yellow crest matching the delek pigments collected in Maburrinj. I placed the fresh bird in the freezer, and placed the dried one in metho. The latter had the sweeter smell of the drier stages of decomposition. Its body cavity is exposed, especially at the back, but its front, with its skeletal face and full crest in tact are what I wish to paint in my current work featuring the currawong.
Studio Update
I am currently working on the Currawong shroud from January 2010 (refer to post). I began surrounding the stain with a nest created by painting delek in the negative space between the woven sticks. I stopped midway thinking I would like to define the currawong shape in a subtle way using silken thread stitches. I had been inspired last year by the brightness of silken thread amidst naturally dyed thread in the Indonesian/Malaysian tapestry on exhibition at the NGA. The result was more than I had hoped for, while being delicate and fine, as expressing care and refinement, an illusion was created of another plane. This was due to the assumption the shape was stitched on. The process of stitching is very intensive, the piercing of cloth ground at times smooth through a ready opening in the weave, or difficult when blocked by tightly woven threads. I thought of explanations of central Australian sand painting in Balgo in Piercing the Ground by Christine Watson, which I am currently reading, and also of my time as a tattooist. The woven body covering akin to skin.
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