Tag Archives: Indigenous

The Unknown Craftsperson in Unexpected Pleasures

The Fine Line section of Unexpected Pleasures

The Fine Line section of Unexpected Pleasures

Unexpected Pleasures is an extraordinary achievement. Curator Susan Cohn has gathered together more than 200 key works reflecting the international scene of contemporary jewellery. This mass of work is surprisingly digestible. Rather than arrange them by country or historical movement, she has offered a taxonomic system that maps the creative energies at play in individual pieces.

These ‘idea clusters’ are quite different to the more reductive classifications that might otherwise be found in museums, based on materials or techniques. For instance, ‘Logical solutions’ attends to the creative dimension of componentry in jewellery works. The propositional nature of such groupings engages the visitor more actively than those based on academic criteria.

There’s much more that can be said about the exhibition as a whole, but I would like to respond to one of the specific challenges laid in the section titled A Fine Line. This closed installation at the centre of the gallery functions as the ‘navel’ of the exhibition, identifying the ‘origins of contemporary jewellery today’ in Art, Design, Fashion and Craft.

Practically, this is an opportunity to feature iconic works, such as Annie Alberts’ ‘Necklace’ made from paper clips that prefigures more experimental work to come. More generally, this contextualisation locates contemporary jewellery in a broader kinship system of creative arts.

This is by no means a neutral context. There is a clear value system at work in the way these origins are presented. While works by artists such as Alexander Calder are celebrated, Art as a framework for jewellery creates a remove between the artist and the work. Artists are seen to create jewellery as mostly a secondary concern, akin to merchandising. This distance from making applies to Design as well, though the designer is more comfortable the process of production:

A designer with the ability to create effective jewellery has the sensibility to understand industrial objects with a certain sophistication.

Fashion includes elements of art, design and craft, but it has the additional capacity to engage with sub-cultures in which individuals adapt clothing to create their own identities.

The final origin, Craft, is presented as ‘problematic’. The text argues that it is better to avoid the word in order to overcome ‘ultimately futile questions about the allegedly nostalgic connotations of craft.’ Parallel to fashion, this origin is presented as ‘vernacular self-expression in the anthropological sense.’ There’s a certain unresolved tension here between making and empowerment that prompts further consideration.

Unknown artist, Rirratjingu active 1990s, armband 1993, made from feathers

Unknown artist, Rirratjingu active 1990s, armband 1993, made from feathers

In the book accompanying the exhibition, craft is illustrated with a Bella Herdsman’s pendant from Birkina Faso (1976) and a photo of an ash-covered Dinka elder (1976) wearing a necklace of Dutch beads and smoking an elaborate silver pipe. In the exhibition itself, craft is represented by an armband from Arnhem Land (1993). We see craft through these works as something distant from Western culture.

While the craft section does state that making is relevant to contemporary jewellery, it is positioned in the exhibition as something performed by those ‘other’ to our culture. There are precedents for this. Primitivism has been a key influence in contemporary jewellery, particularly in our corner of the world with Peter Tully and Warwick Freeman. But this primitivism has been mediated by the artists themselves, rather presented as museum pieces.

So what’s happening in this return to ethnography in contemporary jewellery? Maybe it’s progressive. This return could be seen as part of a wider concern to give indigenous arts themselves a platform. Rather than have white artists represent non-Western cultures, it is better to give a voice to those who belong to those same cultures, as in the emergence of a new generation of Aboriginal and Maori jewellers. However, the works identified as ‘craft’ in Unexpected Pleasures are anonymous, so there is little opportunity to enfranchise non-Western artists.

The other side of this is the implied detachment of contemporary jewellery from craft. I think there are two currents at play here. The first is the exhibition’s resolutely cosmopolitan approach. While there are some references to place, such as the Dutch collar of Paul Derrez, contemporary jewellery is represented here as a relatively placeless activity. It is perhaps a sign of maturity that it, like other disciplines such as science or architecture, is presented as an autonomous profession which prizes originality above political correctness. The framework of Craft is at odds with this specialisation. It tends to be more location specific, reflecting traditional skills and local materials. Craft’s implied responsibility to place has potential to compromise creative freedom.

This is a different case for Craft than the one which Robert Baines would make in criticism of the exhibition. Baines champions the discipline of skill and tradition in contemporary jewellery. I would argue that skill does have a link to place. The logic of outsourcing in late capitalism has helped us overlook this.

The second current is the exhibition’s attempt to celebrate the wearer. This is critical to an exhibition which has the capacity, in an unparalleled way, to open up the closed circle of contemporary jewellery to the broader public. Unexpected Pleasures is cast initially to fit the National Gallery of Victoria, which has never before offered a survey exhibition of contemporary jewellery. Craft in this context provides a more internal framework of skill and mastery best understood by the makers themselves. It thus has potential to alienate the broader public.

At the other pole, the exhibition must satisfy the interests of the London Design Museum. A natural framework for Design is to consider contemporary jewellery in terms of its role in everyday life. How does jewellery affect the way people behave in the street? Certainly, the works in Unexpected Pleasures can be read in terms of user experience, such as the framing neckpieces of Gijs Bekker and Otto Künzli. But could this go further? The majority of works are still made primarily for exhibit rather than use. We don’t see work than has been subject to the additional discipline (or compromise) of the market.

Ironically, the one contemporary jeweller who seems to embrace this element of design most fully is Susan Cohn herself. The necessary absence of her work in Unexpected Pleasures is one of the few weak points.

Unexpected Pleasures is likely to prove a seminal moment in contemporary jewellery. It shifts the focus away from the subjective experience of the maker to the desires of the wearer. While this seems a necessary move, it leaves making itself in an uncertain place. Its association with indigenous culture is perhaps a holding position, acknowledging the presence of Craft while separating it from mainstream practice.

This lack of resolution opens the potential for a counter move. The alternative is more about treasures than pleasures—jewellery as a means to forge new and recovered collectivities.

The forest comes to Ararat

Detail of the Floating Forest installation by Douglas Fuchs at Ararat Regional Art Gallery

Detail of the Floating Forest installation by Douglas Fuchs at Ararat Regional Art Gallery

I had the good fortune on Saturday to attend the Floating Forest symposium at Ararat Regional Art Gallery. Talks by curators and artists reflected a heartening story that connected not only generations of fibre artists but also indigenous and settler cultures.

The story begins in 1981, when Craft Australia had the foresight to bring out the US fibre artist Douglas Fuchs. At the time, the development of contemporary craft benefited immeasurably from these foreign visitors, bringing together the nascent communities of fibre, textile, metal, clay and glass artists.

Fuchs was a fibre artist particularly inspired by traditional basketry, such as native American traditions. He travelled widely through Australia, giving workshops and spending time in Maningrida learning the ways of traditional Yolngu fibre crafts. The tour eventuated in the exhibition titled Floating Forest, which launched at Adelaide, Festival Centre in 1981, then toured Sydney and Melbourne in 1982. The visit was quite critical for Australian craft.

Fuch’s statement in the exhibition reflects the mystery that he seeks in fibre art:

Psychologically the forest symbol represents the unknown in each person’s being — a beckoning desire to get lost, or discovering aspects of life that may be more challenging and difficult than already comprehended… My concept of a ‘Floating Forest’ environment was an attempt to construct and symbolise this state of feeling, this symbol that has become central in my imagination. Many other people have done it in different ways. I happen to be a person who makes objects in basketry techniques and materials.

A particularly moving part of the symposium was delivered by Wendy Golden, who read out Virginia Kaiser’s reflections on the experience. Kaiser had been unable to attend herself due to ill health, but the sound of her words vocalised by an equally dedicated and innovative basketmaker was quite powerful. Before Fuchs’ visit, Kaiser had been studying weaving. His workshop had the effect of connecting her with a world of twining and coiling. The exhibition itself was a revelation. The theatrical display of sculptural vessels, figurative pieces and floating structures demonstrated the expressive potential of fibre as an art form.

Installation shot of Floating Forest by Douglas Fuchs at Ararat Regional Art Gallery

Installation shot of Floating Forest by Douglas Fuchs at Ararat Regional Art Gallery

Thankfully, the exhibition as a whole was acquired by the Powerhouse Museum. And fortunately for us, Anthony Camm at the Ararat Regional Gallery had the vision to restage the exhibition 30 years later, reflecting the gallery’s specialisation in fibre arts. The installation was combined with works from the collection and new works made to honour Douglas Fuchs.

Three decades later, a symposium about Floating Forest was an opportunity not only to acknowledge the enduring influence of an exhibition, but also to recognise the revival of indigenous basketry that had occurred in the meantime. In recent years, there has been a wave of fibre exhibitions touring around Australia, such as Recoil, Woven Forms, Tayenebe, Floating Life, and Louise Hamby’s Art on a String and now touring Clever Hands. Increasingly these reflect the resilience and innovation of fibre work in Indigenous communities. More than any other material, fibre connects with the land.

The symposium featured some fascinating reflections on southeastern indigenous fibre. Museum Victoria’s Antoinette Smith gave some fascinating insights into traditional use of baskets, sometimes reaching a massive size to reflect the status of its owner. Marilyne Nicholls reflected on her monumental works using open coil technique. And Brownyn Razem reflected on a wide variety of southeastern fibre arts, such as the revival of possum skin cloaks.

Given the connection to land, there’s a temptation to think then that fibre is an exclusively indigenous art form. An very interesting text panel in the exhibition quoted from a review of the Australian basketry exhibition by Anna Griffiths in Craft Victoria (1992) which downgraded the value of non-functional and conceptual works. But a number of presentations in the symposium showed how it was a continuing form of experimentation for settler artists. As a Victorian basketmakers, Maree Brown showed some very fresh work using a wide variety of materials, from plastics to jigsaw pieces. Lucy Irvine took this further with her phenomenological abstract forms using nylon and cable ties.

Adrienne Kneebone, one of the fibre artists presenting at the symposium

Adrienne Kneebone, one of the fibre artists presenting at the symposium

So do the settler and indigenous fibre traditions meet? Adrienne Kneebone, mentored by Nalda Searles, presented a paper about her Pandanus Project, involving a dialogue around the Northern Territory town Katherine. This featured some quite haunting indigenous fibre work, including the mysterious mukuy forms. But this isn’t the only influence on Kneebone. Talking with Adrienne in the gallery, she told me how moved she was to see Floating Forest. ‘Virginia Kaiser has been such an influence on me. And here is the exhibition that so inspired her.’

Congratulations to Ararat Regional Art Gallery. Floating Forest helped remind us of the power of craft to both connect people and express deep emotions. It’s a lead that others should follow.

Maryann Talia Pau makes Samoa in Australia

Maryann Talia Palau on her return to Samoa in 2008

Maryann Talia Palau on her return to Samoa in 2008

Maryann Talia Pau on her return to Samoa in 2008

We know that Pacific Island populations spread out well beyond the islands themselves. Countries like Australia are home to many from the islands who proudly continue to engage with their culture beyond the seas. But what does it mean to be a Pacific Islander living in a wide brown land like Australia?

Maryann Talia Pau has quickly shot to prominence as an artist able connect her Pacific roots with urban Australian aerials. Though born in Apia, Samoa, she moved to New Zealand while only one year old. She fondly remembers growing up in West Auckland close to family and in a church community, though religion seemed more about the making than the praying. Time was spent singing and making craft. At school, Maryann remembers constructing elaborate flower compositions for school competitions.

At the age of ten, her family moved to Melbourne where she initially felt out of place. This was further compounded by her experiences in high school where she felt different and separate to the other few Samoans attending the school. This was also Maryann’s first experience of being called fair-skinned by other Samoans, which she found very bizarre.

When she was thirteen, Maryann went home to Samoa with her mother and sister, her first trip home since she was born. It was also to mark Maryann’s entry into High School. While she was there, the island experienced a violent cyclone. She remembers staying in her mother’s village where, despite the mayhem outside, everyone was calm — just ‘going about their ‘business as usual. Such was their strength and organisation and knowledge to continue and thrive.’

At Melbourne University, she found a collective who were also exploring what it meant to be Indigenous. There was resonance with the Stolen Generation – ‘I could relate to the whole dislocation thing.’ She has since continued this association through her art. And on a personal level, she started a family with a Murri man from Queensland. The experiences of growing up away from family, of relocating several times with a young family and wanting to engage with the Pacific Island community has prompted the desire to show her art publicly.

Her inspiration for making art came partly from a weaving circle at the Selling Yarns 2 conference in Canberra, 2009 where she worked together with the Elcho artist Roslyn Malŋumba. Maryann remembers Roslyn saying, ‘”You are meant to weave.” It felt so natural and right to be weaving. And to be weaving with a mother from this land, that was special!’

Maryann Talia Palau 'Please, can I weave with you?'

Maryann Talia Palau 'Please, can I weave with you?'

Maryann Talia Pau 'Fa'amolemole, pe mafai ona tatou lalaga fa'atasi?' (Please, can I weave with you?) Pandanus, cream organza and black satin ribbon, shells, fishing line, black cotton fabric; weaving and beading, 2009

Her first break came with the Craft Cubed exhibition city/country at Craft Victoria, last August. Maryann made a breast plate using salvaged pieces from an ie toga (Samoan fine mat) and shells collected over several years. This breast plate is called Fa’amolemole, pe mafai ona tatou lalaga faatasi? (Please, can I weave with you?). Then she found a place in Precious Pendants at Object Gallery, where she created another breastplate called Mo lo’u Tama (For My Dad), an artwork celebrating her family’s 20 years in Australia. Both of these pieces recycle materials collected and gifted and are mixed with synthetic materials such a satin ribbon. Earlier this year, Maryann’s enthusiasm for Rosanna Raymond’s Tapa Jeans collected by the NGV led her to be invited to show companion works for the L’Oreal Melbourne Fashion Festival Cultural Program, which became the exhibition Fashioning the Mana. A total of four adornment works were installed in the Oceanic Gallery, the first contemporary work by a Pacific Island woman for the Gallery. Maryann’s work is currently showing in a group exhibition called ex.o.dus at Blacktown Art Centre, NSW where she has the precious ie toga which she has salvaged and kept for future works.

Maryann Talia Palau, “Mo lo’u Tama” (For my dad)

Maryann Talia Palau, “Mo lo’u Tama” (For my dad)

Maryann Talia Pau, “Mo lo’u Tama” (For my dad), dried pandanus, shells, black and coloured satin ribbon, coloured feathers, 2009

Maryann’s work repurposes traditional Samoan craft to make the kind of overt statements necessary in a noisy urban context. She transforms the collective fala (mat) into individual breastplates, embroidered with shells to proudly proclaim its culture. Making art has enabled Maryann to maintain a connection with Samoa, as she sources materials and objects. The sacredness of each piece is delivered through the materials which have either been gifted especially to Maryann or passed on with the belief that they will be turned into something new, beautiful and meaningful. Even though she left Samoa when she was only one, the strength of island life seems to be something that she carries with her, propelling her forward to share and participate.

Maryann is fiercely positive, hopeful and energised by the dynamic creative representations of the Pacific Islands. ‘The response so far to Pacific Island artists based in Australia has been very affirming. There is still much more we can do, but we are definitely visible and there are great things coming.’ The story is just beginning.

A world vision for Mapuche

Standing around the coals discussing craft product

Standing around the coals discussing craft product

Standing around the coals discussing craft product

Alejandra Bobidilla (right) showing new designs at a cross-roads

Alejandra Bobidilla (right) showing new designs at a cross-roads

Alejandra Bobidilla (right) showing new designs at a cross-roads

Like most other colonies, the nation of Chile was established through a forced dispossession of Indigenous peoples from their land. One group proved particularly hard to displace. Prior to the arrival of the Spanish, the Mapuche had successful resisted an invasion from the Incas. After this, they held off the Spanish for nearly 300 years, as colonists appropriated land to their north and south. The middle territory of Mapuche ranged from Concepción in the north to Chiloé in the south.

Today, Mapuche make up 4% of the population in Chile. Their centre is Temuco, a city of a quarter of a million people, now a tourist hub. In the region of Temuco are many Mapuche communities, which are mostly poor and subsist on crafts and agricultural production. The crafts of weaving and jewellery are particularly strong among Mapuche. In Chile, they are known as well for their herbal medicines and elaborate cosmography, based on the cardinal points.

The World Vision office in Temuco is focused on enabling Mapuche communities to have greater independence and capacity. In July this year, I travelled with Alejandra Bobadilla to communities west of Temuco, towards Puetro Saavedra. These were people known as lafkenche, people of the sea.

Maria Mallafil, Mapuche leader and weaver

Maria Mallafil, Mapuche leader and weaver

Maria Mallafil, Mapuche leader and weaver

Alejandra’s main mission was to encourage handmade textile production among the Mapuche women. We were accompanied by a Mapuche elder, Maria Mallafil, whose familiarity with the communities and understanding of their craft was essential. We mostly met in community halls. These were small rooms with walls covered by notices and posters of common concern. We were offered tortillas and cakes with tea, sometimes matte. For more remote artisans, we would visit their homes.

Both women gave feedback on their weaving and suggested new opportunities. In particular, Alejandra had samples from a Colombian designer for vests which were likely to be popular in the urban markets. She showed these designs and discussed how they might be produced. Along the way, she also dealt with issues ranging from health to agriculture. It seemed she was a very important conduit for information between the communities.

Helena Mallefil, Mapuche basket-maker

Helena Mallefil, Mapuche basket-maker

Helena Mallefil, Mapuche basket-maker

I was particularly struck by the visit to Helena Mallefil, a basket-maker. She had a particularly humble one-room house, with no glass in the windows, but with a very cosy tray of coals to keep us warm. She make a wonderful orange cake and tea. Looking around at her baskets, I realised that I had purchased one of them last year at ONA as a gift for my mother. As often, I thought of the distance between her seeming threadbare life and the comfortable clientele of ONA in Santiago.

Her baskets are strong, well-made and beautifully coloured with natural dyes. But I noticed one round basket in particular which was adorned with a head, wings and feet. It seemed like a penguin, but it was probably a hen (for putting eggs in). I could see great potential here, following what has happened with Aboriginal basket-makers in Australia’s Western desert, who now produce lively grass sculptures.

Cristina Sagreda designer and her son Daniel in the shop where they sell Mapuche handmade clothing

Cristina Sagreda designer and her son Daniel in the shop where they sell Mapuche handmade clothing

Cristina Sagreda designer and her son Daniel in the shop where they sell Mapuche handmade clothing

Back in Santiago, Alejandra took me to visit the shop in downtown Providencia (rich suburb of Santiago) where much of the Mapuche textiles are sold. It was a very nice shop, with a wide range of craft products, particularly jewellery. But I thought it was a shame that there wasn’t an outlet that might tell a Mapuche story more completely. I could see it would also make a difference if the designers were able to spend time directly with Mapuche in developing and producing new works.

World Vision do have a broad view of possibilities for Mapuche. They are currently working on a cultural exchange between Mapuche and Australian Indigenous. The facilities offered for Indigenous culture here, such as the Koorie Heritage Trust, may well be the subject of envy on the other side of the Pacific. But the resilience and pride of the Mapuche could be inspiring here too.

The Mapuche have a particularly rich musical, poetic and craft culture. Colonisation has seen them pushed to the margins of Chilean society. It seems a worthwhile challenge to find ways of bridging that divide.

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