It’s been less than a fortnight since I left Bundanon, but already it’s feeling like a fairly pivotal turning point in my creative life.
Having moved fairly smoothly from school to university to the workplace, finding myself in jobs (journalism/newspaper editor) that offer plenty of challenges and require a substantial amount of attention from my mind, I’ve never really had the opportunity to spend any great stretch of time on creative projects.
Those that I have pursued have been, invariably, either spontaneous or reactive. My two novel length works-in progress both began life as short stories that simply got out of hand, taking on a life of their own. On the photography front, I’ve been very much of the verité school, shooting what I see, the world ‘as it is’ without my interference. I acknowledge, of course, the choices I make in subject selection, framing, composition and the like, but have rarely been active in setting up or directing a scene or an image. I’d figured this was a stylistic choice, a philosophical consideration of photography as documentation and momentary, but am now wondering whether it was simply a lack of time.
On the writing side, the hope entering the fortnight had been to finish a few projects, in any spare time that may have emerged around our main major ‘life between buildings’ project. Yet after two weeks these never even made it out of the suitcase – this was a place and a time for thinking afresh, for inventing/crafting not polishing; opening doors not closing them.
So instead of wrapping up existing projects, I seem to have started more than I can keep track of. Central is the life between buildings song cycle, to which I intend to co-contribute text along with Rhiannon and Danielle, and work on more visual ideas that will hopefully augment its final presentation.
‘The Last Supper’ is to be a 12-song song-cycle, co-created by the life between buildings team of Serena Armstrong, Danielle Carey, Rhiannon Cook, Julian Day, and, in there as well, me.
The cycle will build upon written texts exploring the last meals of condemned death row prisoners, combining the irresistible motifs of Food and Death.
The idea is to create a work that can stand alone in a traditional performative sense, incorporating visual elements , but there is also strong interest in looking at the ‘event’ possibilities the idea holds, to explore its potential in installation or even ‘happening’ terms, such as incorporating the work into an actual meal with audience interaction, a blurring of the active performer/ passive audience lines.
This idea developed throughout Bundanon and grew richer each day, particularly in the second week. We would share our thoughts and ideas for it, discussing its difficulties and problematic aspects as well as what intrigued us.
Once the idea had developed to a point where we could all see where it might be heading, we were each able to work on bringing our various strengths to it, working on potential texts and some basic musical possibilities.
Amidst all this, as I was being drawn further and further into the surrounds, I also found some windows to experiment with some visual ideas. With a fortnight to spend free of daily concerns (cooking and grooming matters notwithstanding), my early ideas for some photographic series developed, expanded and then shifted quite substantially. For reasons I expect I’ll explore at greater length down the line, I’ve developed a fascination bordering on obsession with red. Red in all its forms, but particularly red as a thread – in this case wool.
‘Threads’ are a theme I’ve begun to quietly follow, but the red is quite recent and appeared quite suddenly, almost violently. Apart from its symbolic elements, which I’ll discuss down the track, I’m quite taken by the difficulties cameras appear to have in processing reds of this intensity.
My early red interventions at Bundanon were quite rushed and quickly executed. I wasn’t sure if the idea even had any lasting worth, and hadn’t fully understood what it was I was trying to say. Spending more and more time wrapping objects, winding the wool around the man-made or natural items that drew me, that seemed to be asking for a red challenge, or echo, I found the time and space to think more about what it was I was trying to do, and say.
I had gone into Bundanon thinking I would look at spending more time on photo manipulation – working with layers to get my photos to look at the relationship between the ‘observed world’, text and music. But instead of post-production and scanning, layering disparate images for a common cause, I found I was more and more drawn towards creating these layers in real-time and real-space.
The poetics of the bush and its musicality was utterly enthralling. I couldn’t face sitting at my computer trying to recreate when here was a chance to create directly, to interact with the natural surroundings and enter into a type of direct dialogue.
Hence the paperbark/paperback project, the Byron rock, the Haydn gum, and variations on the ‘poe-tree’ project. Many more ideas have also been sifting through since my return, with the urge to create kicked along again after seeing Jeanette Winterson, a favourite author, speak at the Sydney Opera House to open the Sydney Writers’ Festival on Tuesday (more about that for another post).
While perhaps seemingly like a fairly haphazard hotchpotch of concepts and threads, each, in their way, has been spawned by the Bundanon and life between buildings collaboration. In the past I’ve tended to work fairly individually, drawing upon my own ideas and bouncing them up against, well, myself.
I think what I’ve taken from this experience is not just the amazing time I had working closely with such creative, inspiring artists (and good friends!), but I have learned how ideas bounced around can grow and develop and take on a life of their own, thanks to the enthusiasm and input of others.
So while we have a common cause in our central project, we all each have other strands to follow, other threads to explore, that each developed, to some extent out, of the collaborative process. The actual ‘practice’ part, the writing or the photography is, for me, still a fairly personal path. I tend to process ideas over a longer period than some, then quietly chip away at them, channelling through my work things I can’t always explain in discussion. I think my strength in working with others is more likely to be a piece of text or a photo that tells a story, rather than ‘discussed’ input as such – that may change, but my work seems to come from a part of me I don’t necessarily have access to in conversation form.
To spend two weeks immersed in this, in such a deeply inspiring place as Bundanon, has been an experience that will ripple through my life for some time.
This was an inspiring group of artists to spend time with, and I like to think we’ll be able to keep working together, even if loosely, under the life between buildings umbrella.
- Benjamin
Showing posts with label reflection. Show all posts
Showing posts with label reflection. Show all posts
Saturday, May 24
Thursday, May 8
Bundanon - Day Nine
I bounced out of bed at 7am yesterday, despite my insomnia pushing my body through until about 3am the previous night (crawling into bed at 5:30am isn’t unheard of around these parts either – who needs sleep at times like these!). Aside from wanting some alone time to reflect, I was keen to spend the morning by the river… To think about where I’m at, maybe take advantage of the soft morning light (for photography), but mostly just to meditate and soak up my surroundings. I was surprised at the amount of bird life by the shore – willy wag tails, magpies, wrens, kookaburras, king fishers, crimson rosellas all within a few metres of each other. To be a part of that! Wow!
Of course I wouldn’t dream of breaking the Bundanon Artist’s In Residency ‘no swimming’ rule, so I just…um…errr…danced naked across the sand and dipped my toes in? Yes, that’s what I did. The cold certainly didn’t force a sudden intake of breath as I dived in. And I didn’t shout songs of excitement to the birds as I spooned handfuls of icy water over my head. Neither was I able to experience the cool rush of water swirling around my naked body… so… um… yeah I just sat…. oops, I mean danced… and imagined all of the things that might have happened if I’d swum… As I basked in the sun pretending to let my imaginary drenched locks of hair dry, I watched a willy wag tail flit along the shores, glancing quizzically every so often in my direction (HA - he reminded me of the raven and goat that Boyd obsessively painted as a symbol of voyeurism). I wrote in my journal, took a few photos and breathed in deeply… Ah!
Anyway, it seems the sheer power of imagination made for a sensational day. The dreams of an entirely imaginary morning swim refreshed my mind and soothed my spirit. On returning to my studio, a few tangible ideas for writing began to emerge. Fingers itched. My pen began dancing wildly across the room. And so I wrote! Words. On paper. There’re still very raw, but I’ve started. It’s all very exciting.
Let me explain my excitement: I wasn’t sure how much writing I’d actually do while down here. Having experienced intense writer’s block in the last few months, I’d made the decision to focus on photography, painting and sculpture during the residency. In the lead up to the residency, however, I felt like my blockage was starting to dissipate. This was mostly due to a rediscovery of my passion for letter writing. Through a series of letters to a friend, I found words began flowing from my fingers again. It was a fascinating process. And prompted me to commit, while at Bundanon, to daily blogging and scrawling out morning pages. It’s still a slowly unravelling process, however, and I decided to only write creatively if my fingers started itching to throw words on the page. No expectations. No pressure. But this morning my fingers started itching! Hoorah!
These ten days have taught me a lot about my creative process. Like Julian, ‘lounging about, unwinding, enthusiastically talking up ideas, and idly noodling’ – and I’d add, debating hardcore issues, cooking, reading, watching movies and teasing Jules himself – has been crucial for getting the creative juices flowing. Yet so often I’ll feel guilty if it isn’t immediately obviously that what I’m doing is directly productive towards my end goal. Here I’m learning that so much time for me is spent thinking conceptually about an idea – planning, discussing, exploring abstractly - the nitty gritty craftsmanship of creating a work, words on paper, paint on canvass, emerges much later. I love creating first in my head and bouncing those ideas around, exploring all the options and thinking laterally for further options… So talking, lounging around, cooking etc. are really important and valid! Hmm… brains are such strange things…
Speaking of my brain, the contents of it are currently sprawled across our newly acquired second art studio. Not actual brain bits, of course, just a symbolic representation. With paper, textas, nails and creative enthusiasm, I created a giant mind map of our song cycle/installation when I got back from my river adventure. It isn’t often that I have so much space to spread out, so why not! I also thought it was time for the group to start focusing in on our project. What was actually achievable? What ideas should we keep exploring? Were there actual components that we could start writing/composing? Who wanted to do what? What was the scale of the project? I figured having a central space to summarise our ideas – one drawing board rather than five – would be useful for 1. Ensuring that we are on the same wavelength, 2. Nutting out some achievable goals for the final four days of our residency, 3. Ensuring that we found a model that allowed each one of us to use our strengths to their advantage.
Our discussion in the evening demonstrated just how far we’ve come in finding a collaborative model that seems achievable, despite all our initial concerns. We’re finding ways of working together. We’re moving forward. There are still challenges ahead, but I think we’ve reached another turning point. I’m really excited.
We’re going on an adventure tonight… To sleep in the rundown shack across the paddock – the one in which the Swiss artist built her embroidery installation. A night of creative storytelling, poetry reading, insomnia, mandolin playing and – if Rhiannon actually manages to find her way ‘home’ this time – chocolate munching!
Dammit I don’t want to go home…
Of course I wouldn’t dream of breaking the Bundanon Artist’s In Residency ‘no swimming’ rule, so I just…um…errr…danced naked across the sand and dipped my toes in? Yes, that’s what I did. The cold certainly didn’t force a sudden intake of breath as I dived in. And I didn’t shout songs of excitement to the birds as I spooned handfuls of icy water over my head. Neither was I able to experience the cool rush of water swirling around my naked body… so… um… yeah I just sat…. oops, I mean danced… and imagined all of the things that might have happened if I’d swum… As I basked in the sun pretending to let my imaginary drenched locks of hair dry, I watched a willy wag tail flit along the shores, glancing quizzically every so often in my direction (HA - he reminded me of the raven and goat that Boyd obsessively painted as a symbol of voyeurism). I wrote in my journal, took a few photos and breathed in deeply… Ah!
Anyway, it seems the sheer power of imagination made for a sensational day. The dreams of an entirely imaginary morning swim refreshed my mind and soothed my spirit. On returning to my studio, a few tangible ideas for writing began to emerge. Fingers itched. My pen began dancing wildly across the room. And so I wrote! Words. On paper. There’re still very raw, but I’ve started. It’s all very exciting.
Let me explain my excitement: I wasn’t sure how much writing I’d actually do while down here. Having experienced intense writer’s block in the last few months, I’d made the decision to focus on photography, painting and sculpture during the residency. In the lead up to the residency, however, I felt like my blockage was starting to dissipate. This was mostly due to a rediscovery of my passion for letter writing. Through a series of letters to a friend, I found words began flowing from my fingers again. It was a fascinating process. And prompted me to commit, while at Bundanon, to daily blogging and scrawling out morning pages. It’s still a slowly unravelling process, however, and I decided to only write creatively if my fingers started itching to throw words on the page. No expectations. No pressure. But this morning my fingers started itching! Hoorah!
These ten days have taught me a lot about my creative process. Like Julian, ‘lounging about, unwinding, enthusiastically talking up ideas, and idly noodling’ – and I’d add, debating hardcore issues, cooking, reading, watching movies and teasing Jules himself – has been crucial for getting the creative juices flowing. Yet so often I’ll feel guilty if it isn’t immediately obviously that what I’m doing is directly productive towards my end goal. Here I’m learning that so much time for me is spent thinking conceptually about an idea – planning, discussing, exploring abstractly - the nitty gritty craftsmanship of creating a work, words on paper, paint on canvass, emerges much later. I love creating first in my head and bouncing those ideas around, exploring all the options and thinking laterally for further options… So talking, lounging around, cooking etc. are really important and valid! Hmm… brains are such strange things…
Speaking of my brain, the contents of it are currently sprawled across our newly acquired second art studio. Not actual brain bits, of course, just a symbolic representation. With paper, textas, nails and creative enthusiasm, I created a giant mind map of our song cycle/installation when I got back from my river adventure. It isn’t often that I have so much space to spread out, so why not! I also thought it was time for the group to start focusing in on our project. What was actually achievable? What ideas should we keep exploring? Were there actual components that we could start writing/composing? Who wanted to do what? What was the scale of the project? I figured having a central space to summarise our ideas – one drawing board rather than five – would be useful for 1. Ensuring that we are on the same wavelength, 2. Nutting out some achievable goals for the final four days of our residency, 3. Ensuring that we found a model that allowed each one of us to use our strengths to their advantage.
Our discussion in the evening demonstrated just how far we’ve come in finding a collaborative model that seems achievable, despite all our initial concerns. We’re finding ways of working together. We’re moving forward. There are still challenges ahead, but I think we’ve reached another turning point. I’m really excited.
We’re going on an adventure tonight… To sleep in the rundown shack across the paddock – the one in which the Swiss artist built her embroidery installation. A night of creative storytelling, poetry reading, insomnia, mandolin playing and – if Rhiannon actually manages to find her way ‘home’ this time – chocolate munching!
Dammit I don’t want to go home…
Tuesday, May 6
not so grey
Today marked the seventh day of our Bundanon stay, so why does it feel like we just got here?
I realised upon waking that while I had walked back and forth across the property many a time, had traversed its open fields, dipped a toe in its river, skirted its grand homestead and returned many times to the swallowing bush, I still felt strangely disconnected from the environs.
The visual sweep down from our cottage to the homestead and the river beyond, back up the treed ridge on the far side of the river, allows us to see much of the 300 cleared acres of the working farm. While perched on the very edge of the bush – which makes up the bulk of the 1100 hectare property – the cottage has its back turned to the trees. It’s their presence I feel strongest, but until today it had been a looming feeling rather than a deep awareness. I could hear the birds and had seen plenty of the kangaroos, wombats and even snakes that came and went, but all my time in there had been active; imposing art ideas and projects without spending enough time doing another of the things which I had come here to do – listen, learning, find what inspiration it could impart.
I realised in doing so, I was repeating a lot of the mistakes artists made early in Australian colonial history – their cultural and artistic baggage so heavily laden with British sensibilities that they – quite literally – couldn’t see the forest for the trees. Paintings from that era, pastoral projections onto an untameable bush, build from a palette entirely unsuitable for the subject matter; pastel tones and wan light borrowed straight from a British sky that simply does not exist here. I was reminded of a discussion with a Brazilian photographer who is often criticised because the skies in his photographs are deemed ‘ too blue’ – it seems we cannot conceive what exists outside our own engagement, comprehension and direct experience.
I wasn’t bringing this particular sensibility, but I certainly hadn’t taken the time or set up the mind space for meaningful exchange. I had come with ideas for how to interact and ploughed on with them with barely a moment to see what suggestions it might make.
Feeling it was time to try and move beyond the same mistakes, I took a new route up the ridge to an area of the bush I’d not yet visited. Clearing my mind of potential projects, of photographic or textual possibilities, I was there simply to be. To see, hear, touch and smell, though stopping short of taste. I wanted to hear what the bush had to say, before trying to speak for it.
Selecting a place in a small clearing, beneath a towering silver gum, I lay, considering what I saw and how it compared to D.H Lawrence’s description in Kangaroo:
But the bush, the grey charred bush... It was so phantom-like, so ghostly, with its tall pale trees and many dead trees, like corpses, partly charred by bushfires... And then it was so deathly still. Even the few birds seemed to be swamped in silence. Waiting, waiting – the bush seemed to be hoarily waiting... it was biding its time with a terrible ageless watchfulness, waiting for a far-off end, watching the myriad intruding white men.
Was this accurate? Did it capture something essential about the harsh, unforgiving, unlovable Australian bush? Not from what I could see.
The green of fern of leaf of palm of moss of mottled bark; the countless browns of stripping bark of fallen leaves, their neighbours orange and red. Purple toadstool red berry golden sun silver gum cobalt sky. The white of flowering gums, the black of soil below – the one colour I couldn’t find was grey.
There were ghosts and phantoms aplenty, but these corpses spoke not of death but of life – every corpse-like tree and charred stump was swamped by viridian ferns and proud gums, played host to teaming life.
In place of stillness or silence was a ceaseless treetop chatter, gum tree crowns rustling their rasping dry leaves, while from beneath the soil a sub-aural hum, worms and ants and termites and beetles (not to mention the ubiquitous Bundanon wombats) rumbling about their business.
A passing fly with buzz in trail showed the first sign of life between soil and sky, but was soon joined by the melodious melange that made up even this tiny segment of bush. In the space of a few minutes, my ear slowly attuning to their song, there were chirps, twitters, flute-pitched whistles, twitches, wit-woos, zupzups, vupps, tzetzetzes, zharps and a dozen more songs that leave our alphabet adrift in their sonorous wake – the further from our language and ability to replicate they were, the more indelible their mark.
At first I couldn’t see from where any of these sounds were coming, but a few minutes of lying still and they soon started to emerge, swooping, fluttering and flapping their way across the clearing, from tree to tree and branch to branch, adorned in feathers blue, brown, red, orange, gold and green.
Amidst all of this, thinking once more of this ‘grey’ nothingness, fell a peerless light, a gold and silver gilt; dappled streaks of honeyed tones that seemed a rich and precious gift.
Seven days in, I had finally arrived at Bundanon.
- Benjamin
I realised upon waking that while I had walked back and forth across the property many a time, had traversed its open fields, dipped a toe in its river, skirted its grand homestead and returned many times to the swallowing bush, I still felt strangely disconnected from the environs.
The visual sweep down from our cottage to the homestead and the river beyond, back up the treed ridge on the far side of the river, allows us to see much of the 300 cleared acres of the working farm. While perched on the very edge of the bush – which makes up the bulk of the 1100 hectare property – the cottage has its back turned to the trees. It’s their presence I feel strongest, but until today it had been a looming feeling rather than a deep awareness. I could hear the birds and had seen plenty of the kangaroos, wombats and even snakes that came and went, but all my time in there had been active; imposing art ideas and projects without spending enough time doing another of the things which I had come here to do – listen, learning, find what inspiration it could impart.
I realised in doing so, I was repeating a lot of the mistakes artists made early in Australian colonial history – their cultural and artistic baggage so heavily laden with British sensibilities that they – quite literally – couldn’t see the forest for the trees. Paintings from that era, pastoral projections onto an untameable bush, build from a palette entirely unsuitable for the subject matter; pastel tones and wan light borrowed straight from a British sky that simply does not exist here. I was reminded of a discussion with a Brazilian photographer who is often criticised because the skies in his photographs are deemed ‘ too blue’ – it seems we cannot conceive what exists outside our own engagement, comprehension and direct experience.
I wasn’t bringing this particular sensibility, but I certainly hadn’t taken the time or set up the mind space for meaningful exchange. I had come with ideas for how to interact and ploughed on with them with barely a moment to see what suggestions it might make.
Feeling it was time to try and move beyond the same mistakes, I took a new route up the ridge to an area of the bush I’d not yet visited. Clearing my mind of potential projects, of photographic or textual possibilities, I was there simply to be. To see, hear, touch and smell, though stopping short of taste. I wanted to hear what the bush had to say, before trying to speak for it.
Selecting a place in a small clearing, beneath a towering silver gum, I lay, considering what I saw and how it compared to D.H Lawrence’s description in Kangaroo:
But the bush, the grey charred bush... It was so phantom-like, so ghostly, with its tall pale trees and many dead trees, like corpses, partly charred by bushfires... And then it was so deathly still. Even the few birds seemed to be swamped in silence. Waiting, waiting – the bush seemed to be hoarily waiting... it was biding its time with a terrible ageless watchfulness, waiting for a far-off end, watching the myriad intruding white men.
Was this accurate? Did it capture something essential about the harsh, unforgiving, unlovable Australian bush? Not from what I could see.
The green of fern of leaf of palm of moss of mottled bark; the countless browns of stripping bark of fallen leaves, their neighbours orange and red. Purple toadstool red berry golden sun silver gum cobalt sky. The white of flowering gums, the black of soil below – the one colour I couldn’t find was grey.
There were ghosts and phantoms aplenty, but these corpses spoke not of death but of life – every corpse-like tree and charred stump was swamped by viridian ferns and proud gums, played host to teaming life.
In place of stillness or silence was a ceaseless treetop chatter, gum tree crowns rustling their rasping dry leaves, while from beneath the soil a sub-aural hum, worms and ants and termites and beetles (not to mention the ubiquitous Bundanon wombats) rumbling about their business.
A passing fly with buzz in trail showed the first sign of life between soil and sky, but was soon joined by the melodious melange that made up even this tiny segment of bush. In the space of a few minutes, my ear slowly attuning to their song, there were chirps, twitters, flute-pitched whistles, twitches, wit-woos, zupzups, vupps, tzetzetzes, zharps and a dozen more songs that leave our alphabet adrift in their sonorous wake – the further from our language and ability to replicate they were, the more indelible their mark.
At first I couldn’t see from where any of these sounds were coming, but a few minutes of lying still and they soon started to emerge, swooping, fluttering and flapping their way across the clearing, from tree to tree and branch to branch, adorned in feathers blue, brown, red, orange, gold and green.
Amidst all of this, thinking once more of this ‘grey’ nothingness, fell a peerless light, a gold and silver gilt; dappled streaks of honeyed tones that seemed a rich and precious gift.
Seven days in, I had finally arrived at Bundanon.
- Benjamin
Friday, May 2
Bundanon - Day Four
Putting on our rainbow thinking caps…
Conversation at the 'muso's cottage' is rarely trivial. And I don't think we'd have it any other way. From politics, critical theory, and ethical values, to the current romantic pursuits of certain group members, our daily creative activities are constantly interjected with stimulating, vibrant, humorous and challenging topics of discussion. Take this morning for instance. I step out of my bedroom. Stretch. Yawn. Rub eyes. Search for a clean teacup. Instead of being passed the pot of tea, I’m thrown a handful of questions. Full pelt. Did I think it important to really know someone for an artistic collaboration to be successful? And what models of collaboration are most meaningful to me? The questioner was thrown back a definite NO from me. I think fruitful collaboration – regardless of the model – is possible with anyone. She caught it gracefully, and immediately threw back some further questions. This time I caught them in my cereal bowl and let them soak up some tasty breakfast goodness before responding… For me, good communication is key…
Speaking of which…
When it comes to working on our creative project, I’m feeling we – as a group –struggle with effective communication. We are finding it difficult to reach consensus on a variety of decisions. And this prevents us from moving forward with confidence. Mind you, I don’t think it is just about communication: we have quite a spectrum of life perspectives – a wide range of political and social viewpoints, music tastes, ethical values etc… and very different approaches to the creative process. This makes decisions that respect each individual viewpoint (a vital thing) difficult and time consuming.
But I think if we ensure that strong communication strategies are in place then surely working together will gradually become smoother and more efficient? While I do feel my ideas and opinions are heard, I feel they are often misunderstood or misinterpreted. And I think I'm doing my fair share of misunderstanding as well... I think we all need to listen more carefully and clarify each other’s viewpoints more frequently. For example, I tend to show my emotions immediately; I’m quite a passionate person. I’m generally quite open with how I feel about an issue, but I think I can work more on demonstrating that my feelings about an issue are more fluid than they might seem. I tend to react from an intuitive viewpoint and then analyse and evolve my viewpoint as the conversation flows. Because I’m feeling misunderstood at times, I’m beginning to react by closing off emotionally. I’m then getting frustrated. I think I need to work on being clearer about my personal needs within the group… being more assertive…
Possible solutions? I’ve suggested reading a document I have on consensus decision-making, while Julian has suggested Edward de Bono’s six-hat approach. I like the sound of this. Basically, issues are considered from six different points of view each represented by a different coloured hat: white hat – attention to pure neutral data; red hat – intuition and feeling; gut feeling without justification being necessary; black hat – the logical negative, caution; yellow hat – logical positive; green hat – new ideas and furthering ideas; blue hat – process control, the metacognition…
Anyway, lots of food for our respective thoughts…
Chewing it over…
We’ve discovered the bitter taste of church hymnbooks. Literally. Over the last few days Ben has been incorporating book pages into the papery bark of a tree in the amphitheatre for an installation and a photo series so we all spent some time helping him. A good technique required us to chew the pages in our mouths first and then paste the soggy pages between layers of bark. As we helped him, ideas for incorporating this into a bigger installation began to emerge…
While trying to hold back the occasional gagging reflex, we also spent this time chewing over ideas for a larger group project. As Rhi mentioned yesterday, I’m ready to sink my teeth into something more solid. Having had a few days to relax, and explore the property and a few emerging ideas, I was ready to come together as a group and start honing in on a project(s). We didn’t have de Bono’s hat strategy at this point so it took a while for the conversation to move forward. From my perspective, I felt a strong need to explore more group work opportunities; the beauty of this residency for me, at least, is the opportunity to actually collaborate with other artists. I’m not really interested in working solo: I can do this at home in my own studio.
Julian and I shared with the group our emerging ideas for a song cycle we’ve working on. The interest in working on a group Song Cycle began exciting us. So by the end of the day (and well into the night for the night owls amongst us), we were pleased that today a pivotal point was reached! Hoorah! A commitment to collaboratively write a song cycle… It will be really interesting to see how the next few days pan out. I’m really excited about the project. And I like the ideas that have emerged so far. I’ve never written text for music (except for a few songs my brother and I have written for family functions…) so it will be a very new challenge for me personally. Bring it on!!
Emerging Projects
As I begin summarising the emerging ideas of the group, I’m excited to see how far we’ve actually come in only four days…
Song Cycle | Music – Julian, Rhi, and Serena; Text – Ben, Dan, Serena; Visual – Ben, Dan, and Julian
Tomorrow we plan to start working on this project, generating ideas and gathering material. We’ll probably work in smaller groups and alone for the most part…We’ve decided to initially explore the theme of ‘Last moments of life’ and see where it takes us. We also decided to work as collaboratively as is possible. ie. We’ll all have input in each other’s work…
Song Cycle | Julian (music) and Dan (text)
Jules and I are still exploring themes and ideas. We’re interested in working in a way where the text and music feeds off each other, rather than a situation such as me writing a text for which Julian might then set to music. So far ideas have centred on notions of authority: the questioning of power structures and systems; different political structures; authorities in music and writing etc… and then ways we might be able to play with that in the work. Some examples include democratising the creative process: sharing this with the performer and audience; experimenting with non-linear structures and narratives: eg. Performing different songs simultaneously in different rooms so the audience could choose which order they view the songs… hmmm many more ideas to explore…
The Red Installation/Photo Series | Ben + others
Ben is still wrapping things in bright red wool – tractor parts, wood, burrawang leaves, and trees. He’s also got Serena and I knitting red scarves (eek!). Aside from serving as a series of installations around the property – intrusions and interventions on the landscape – the wrapping is in preparation for a photo series. As far as I understand, the red theme is quite symbolic. Rarely seen in the Australian bush, usually serves as a warning sign: poisonous mushrooms, red back spiders etc… or perhaps it’s simply a reflection of Ben’s connection with his root chakra… (cheeky grin!)
The Book Tree Installation/Photo Series
When Ben isn’t wrapping things, he’s sneaking pages of books amongst the papery bark of a tree in the amphitheatre. Again this project is emerging as both installation and a photo series… Exploring themes of decay and intrusion, the project is starting to extend beyond Ben’s original vision. We all spent a few hours today helping him to insert pages of the books onto the tree (I discovered chewing them first helped the process!) and as we did this other ideas began to emerge… Perhaps I could explore painting on the tree with natural ochres? How could my bark paintings relate to this installation? It was fun working collectively and we were intrigued at the different methods that emerged… oh and we’re using recycled materials, which will literally decay over time…
Photo Series | Rhi + others
This project focuses on looking at the beauty of detail…
Rhi is currently indulging and delighting in her obsessive-compulsive streak by collecting hundreds of close up images from the bush and sorting them by colour (Ben, Dan and Julian are also taking images to contribute to this project). She plans to build some larger images by using these as ‘mosaic tiles’. One idea she wants to experiment with is the image of a naked woman… She might also look at working with Dan to write some text/music to incorporate into the artwork… Tomorrow Ben, Rhi and I are going to work together to take some shots for Rhi’s naked woman, which she will then pixilate and use to then build up her mosaic image (no guesses as to who get to take all their clothes off!!)
Bundanon Community of Artists | Rhi + Dan (and others?)
This project is still in the ideas stage. We haven’t yet talked too much about directions in which we can head. But we’re keen to look at interviewing some of the artists who’ve worked/lived here with the intention of creating a radiophonic work (with Serena’s and Julian’s help?). Our motivation is a desire to explore the importance of community… (the Bundanon community and the larger surrounding community)
Solo Flute Work | Serena
Serena has been working on a solo flute piece. We spent the other night listening to some solo works by Matthew Bienek and talking about what we thought constituted a quality flute work. She is open to the idea of incorporating this into a bigger group project if appropriate.
Bark Painting | Dan
I’ve finished priming some of the bark with white paint and in the next few days will start painting. I’m thinking about using some of the other bark for sculptures. I’m also keen to explore incorporate some of my ideas with Ben’s installation…
Art and Sustainability | Dan (+ others)
I’m really interested in researching ideas about sustainability in art with the idea of developing some projects over the next few months. Being web-addicts, Julian, Rhi and I have decided to initiate this research by holding an online debate between the three of us over the next few days. I think this will be a really interesting and fun way to explore different ideas and concepts.
Time lapse Photography | Julian
Julian’s current idea is to recreate or model some of Arthur Boyd’s images using time-lapse photography, particularly the sceneries that Boyd obsessively created (eg. Pulpit Rock). There is the potential for sound/music as well…
The Cow project
We’re all still quite traumatised by the baby cows (who are still crying and moaning for their parents). Serena has made some sound recording of the cows, while Dan and Jules – who spent the afternoon with them – have taken some images. Whether we do anything with this footage remains to be seen… but the separation of mother and child has certainly made a huge impact on many of us!
Cloud Animation | Jules
Jules has been working on an animation of cloud pictures using time lapse techniques...
hhmmmm... perhaps there are things I've missed??
PS.
Jules has finally found phone reception! Down on the sandbank of the river. Mind you in the time it took to make three long phone calls, the tide began creeping in significantly. And so when Jules turned to head back home he discovered he was standing on a small sand island...
Conversation at the 'muso's cottage' is rarely trivial. And I don't think we'd have it any other way. From politics, critical theory, and ethical values, to the current romantic pursuits of certain group members, our daily creative activities are constantly interjected with stimulating, vibrant, humorous and challenging topics of discussion. Take this morning for instance. I step out of my bedroom. Stretch. Yawn. Rub eyes. Search for a clean teacup. Instead of being passed the pot of tea, I’m thrown a handful of questions. Full pelt. Did I think it important to really know someone for an artistic collaboration to be successful? And what models of collaboration are most meaningful to me? The questioner was thrown back a definite NO from me. I think fruitful collaboration – regardless of the model – is possible with anyone. She caught it gracefully, and immediately threw back some further questions. This time I caught them in my cereal bowl and let them soak up some tasty breakfast goodness before responding… For me, good communication is key…
Speaking of which…
When it comes to working on our creative project, I’m feeling we – as a group –struggle with effective communication. We are finding it difficult to reach consensus on a variety of decisions. And this prevents us from moving forward with confidence. Mind you, I don’t think it is just about communication: we have quite a spectrum of life perspectives – a wide range of political and social viewpoints, music tastes, ethical values etc… and very different approaches to the creative process. This makes decisions that respect each individual viewpoint (a vital thing) difficult and time consuming.
But I think if we ensure that strong communication strategies are in place then surely working together will gradually become smoother and more efficient? While I do feel my ideas and opinions are heard, I feel they are often misunderstood or misinterpreted. And I think I'm doing my fair share of misunderstanding as well... I think we all need to listen more carefully and clarify each other’s viewpoints more frequently. For example, I tend to show my emotions immediately; I’m quite a passionate person. I’m generally quite open with how I feel about an issue, but I think I can work more on demonstrating that my feelings about an issue are more fluid than they might seem. I tend to react from an intuitive viewpoint and then analyse and evolve my viewpoint as the conversation flows. Because I’m feeling misunderstood at times, I’m beginning to react by closing off emotionally. I’m then getting frustrated. I think I need to work on being clearer about my personal needs within the group… being more assertive…
Possible solutions? I’ve suggested reading a document I have on consensus decision-making, while Julian has suggested Edward de Bono’s six-hat approach. I like the sound of this. Basically, issues are considered from six different points of view each represented by a different coloured hat: white hat – attention to pure neutral data; red hat – intuition and feeling; gut feeling without justification being necessary; black hat – the logical negative, caution; yellow hat – logical positive; green hat – new ideas and furthering ideas; blue hat – process control, the metacognition…
Anyway, lots of food for our respective thoughts…
Chewing it over…
We’ve discovered the bitter taste of church hymnbooks. Literally. Over the last few days Ben has been incorporating book pages into the papery bark of a tree in the amphitheatre for an installation and a photo series so we all spent some time helping him. A good technique required us to chew the pages in our mouths first and then paste the soggy pages between layers of bark. As we helped him, ideas for incorporating this into a bigger installation began to emerge…
While trying to hold back the occasional gagging reflex, we also spent this time chewing over ideas for a larger group project. As Rhi mentioned yesterday, I’m ready to sink my teeth into something more solid. Having had a few days to relax, and explore the property and a few emerging ideas, I was ready to come together as a group and start honing in on a project(s). We didn’t have de Bono’s hat strategy at this point so it took a while for the conversation to move forward. From my perspective, I felt a strong need to explore more group work opportunities; the beauty of this residency for me, at least, is the opportunity to actually collaborate with other artists. I’m not really interested in working solo: I can do this at home in my own studio.
Julian and I shared with the group our emerging ideas for a song cycle we’ve working on. The interest in working on a group Song Cycle began exciting us. So by the end of the day (and well into the night for the night owls amongst us), we were pleased that today a pivotal point was reached! Hoorah! A commitment to collaboratively write a song cycle… It will be really interesting to see how the next few days pan out. I’m really excited about the project. And I like the ideas that have emerged so far. I’ve never written text for music (except for a few songs my brother and I have written for family functions…) so it will be a very new challenge for me personally. Bring it on!!
Emerging Projects
As I begin summarising the emerging ideas of the group, I’m excited to see how far we’ve actually come in only four days…
Song Cycle | Music – Julian, Rhi, and Serena; Text – Ben, Dan, Serena; Visual – Ben, Dan, and Julian
Tomorrow we plan to start working on this project, generating ideas and gathering material. We’ll probably work in smaller groups and alone for the most part…We’ve decided to initially explore the theme of ‘Last moments of life’ and see where it takes us. We also decided to work as collaboratively as is possible. ie. We’ll all have input in each other’s work…
Song Cycle | Julian (music) and Dan (text)
Jules and I are still exploring themes and ideas. We’re interested in working in a way where the text and music feeds off each other, rather than a situation such as me writing a text for which Julian might then set to music. So far ideas have centred on notions of authority: the questioning of power structures and systems; different political structures; authorities in music and writing etc… and then ways we might be able to play with that in the work. Some examples include democratising the creative process: sharing this with the performer and audience; experimenting with non-linear structures and narratives: eg. Performing different songs simultaneously in different rooms so the audience could choose which order they view the songs… hmmm many more ideas to explore…
The Red Installation/Photo Series | Ben + others
Ben is still wrapping things in bright red wool – tractor parts, wood, burrawang leaves, and trees. He’s also got Serena and I knitting red scarves (eek!). Aside from serving as a series of installations around the property – intrusions and interventions on the landscape – the wrapping is in preparation for a photo series. As far as I understand, the red theme is quite symbolic. Rarely seen in the Australian bush, usually serves as a warning sign: poisonous mushrooms, red back spiders etc… or perhaps it’s simply a reflection of Ben’s connection with his root chakra… (cheeky grin!)
The Book Tree Installation/Photo Series
When Ben isn’t wrapping things, he’s sneaking pages of books amongst the papery bark of a tree in the amphitheatre. Again this project is emerging as both installation and a photo series… Exploring themes of decay and intrusion, the project is starting to extend beyond Ben’s original vision. We all spent a few hours today helping him to insert pages of the books onto the tree (I discovered chewing them first helped the process!) and as we did this other ideas began to emerge… Perhaps I could explore painting on the tree with natural ochres? How could my bark paintings relate to this installation? It was fun working collectively and we were intrigued at the different methods that emerged… oh and we’re using recycled materials, which will literally decay over time…
Photo Series | Rhi + others
This project focuses on looking at the beauty of detail…
Rhi is currently indulging and delighting in her obsessive-compulsive streak by collecting hundreds of close up images from the bush and sorting them by colour (Ben, Dan and Julian are also taking images to contribute to this project). She plans to build some larger images by using these as ‘mosaic tiles’. One idea she wants to experiment with is the image of a naked woman… She might also look at working with Dan to write some text/music to incorporate into the artwork… Tomorrow Ben, Rhi and I are going to work together to take some shots for Rhi’s naked woman, which she will then pixilate and use to then build up her mosaic image (no guesses as to who get to take all their clothes off!!)
Bundanon Community of Artists | Rhi + Dan (and others?)
This project is still in the ideas stage. We haven’t yet talked too much about directions in which we can head. But we’re keen to look at interviewing some of the artists who’ve worked/lived here with the intention of creating a radiophonic work (with Serena’s and Julian’s help?). Our motivation is a desire to explore the importance of community… (the Bundanon community and the larger surrounding community)
Solo Flute Work | Serena
Serena has been working on a solo flute piece. We spent the other night listening to some solo works by Matthew Bienek and talking about what we thought constituted a quality flute work. She is open to the idea of incorporating this into a bigger group project if appropriate.
Bark Painting | Dan
I’ve finished priming some of the bark with white paint and in the next few days will start painting. I’m thinking about using some of the other bark for sculptures. I’m also keen to explore incorporate some of my ideas with Ben’s installation…
Art and Sustainability | Dan (+ others)
I’m really interested in researching ideas about sustainability in art with the idea of developing some projects over the next few months. Being web-addicts, Julian, Rhi and I have decided to initiate this research by holding an online debate between the three of us over the next few days. I think this will be a really interesting and fun way to explore different ideas and concepts.
Time lapse Photography | Julian
Julian’s current idea is to recreate or model some of Arthur Boyd’s images using time-lapse photography, particularly the sceneries that Boyd obsessively created (eg. Pulpit Rock). There is the potential for sound/music as well…
The Cow project
We’re all still quite traumatised by the baby cows (who are still crying and moaning for their parents). Serena has made some sound recording of the cows, while Dan and Jules – who spent the afternoon with them – have taken some images. Whether we do anything with this footage remains to be seen… but the separation of mother and child has certainly made a huge impact on many of us!
Cloud Animation | Jules
Jules has been working on an animation of cloud pictures using time lapse techniques...
hhmmmm... perhaps there are things I've missed??
PS.
Jules has finally found phone reception! Down on the sandbank of the river. Mind you in the time it took to make three long phone calls, the tide began creeping in significantly. And so when Jules turned to head back home he discovered he was standing on a small sand island...
Thursday, April 3
Honing in
I found Rhi's post makes some quite useful points, and in putting together a response realised this might make more sense as a spin-off post than a comment.
I'm definitely finding 'too many ideas' more of an issue than too few. I guess that's a luxury that beats the alternative! I have a fairly strong impression of Bundanon in my mind, based on previous visits, so find a lot of my ideas are slotting into place in regards to specific things that may or may not work in different areas there.
When considering photographic/film opportunities, my thinking is more along spatial and reflective/responsive lines than historical, yet when I think of text it's the converse - it's more about exploring the time layer and being drawn to a 'yet-known' past, yet very much set in a particular space.
I've been reading a bit about Arthur and the Boyds, but not yet much about their time at Bundanon. I've been doing some 'practice' writing I suppose you might call it, but it's based more on Arthur's paintings than his life or Bundanon and surrounds.
'Based on' isn't very accurate mind you - it's more of a 'response' that touches on some of the themes and images (Greek mythology etc), but then takes on a life of its own. So while I could trace it back to what might have prompted a certain part or idea, it's probably not very obvious that they have any necessary co-relation. Some are closer than others, and some or so tangental as to bear little resemblance whatsoever - even to me by the time they're done.
I know we talked about a preference for a collaborative piece rather than a bundle, but the more I think about how it will work (the project, and the two weeks), the more I imagine it will be a mix. I've been spending the last few weeks and weekends devoting more time to creative work, and realising that creative fatigue can set in pretty quickly if I don't move from one form to another (eg after writing for a while, going and taking some photos to rest the writing mind).
I suspect similar things will happen over the two weeks, and that we will move between a central project and some parallel pieces to break things up. These pieces would still, potentially, fit into the 'umbrella' but also take some of the pressure off the joint work. Is this sort of approach what people are seeing working?
Rhi's concept of 'Distortion' is perfect. It fits really well with a lot of what we have talked about, and ties together that crucial third category of 'perspectives' in a way 'interventions' and 'fabrications' didn't quite.
Perspectives are very important to what we're all interested in, but until now seemed to have stood a little to one side. Distortion brings it in beautifully, and opens up a few more doors for my thinking about certain potential inclusions in the project - especially the visual aspects, but also in terms of writing.
The point about the difficulty of working with histories is definitely worth discussing. We're all under certain constraints (time, work, geographic) that mean a too-thorough understanding of the histories of Bundanon and its surrounds would come at the expense of actually creating any of our own.
What interests me more, anyway, is the imagined histories. Despite being fairly well maintained and set up, and a wealth of primary materials being theoretically available, most visitors to Bundanon only get a gloss of its history. They each carry around their own mix of snippets, the rest they fill in; imagining what life there was like, looking around to see whether they can sense the inspiration in the air.
Personally I think that's what we should also be working with - such snippets and snatches, given we can never hope to get across a 'complete' story anyway. And that's far from our purpose as I understand it. I see Bundanon and her history as a Pulpit Rock style leaping point, not a marsh for getting bogged down in. There is something in the air down there, and I want to spend time with that, not just tracing what somebody else did with it.
In terms of deciding 'which aspects of these ideas we'd most like to explore', I suspect they will all cross over at various points. We're still kind of dancing around our project it seems, rather than getting our teeth truly into it, but I wonder how much of that will chance in the next three weeks? I'm happy to nut down further if people are up for it and this blog is perhaps the best place for that.
Rhi feels we need to decide on what we are aiming to produce with a contingency plan if it doesn't work as planned. She mentioned agreeing on an expected outcome before we go away, else risk disaster. These seem good ideas, though I sense a little trepidation on people's behalf in this approach.
I'd like to hear what everyone thinks, but will go first. I'm still very much interested in exploring the potential for a site-specific work, but also remain aware that's one of the most logistically difficult. I think we could produce quite a strong project based on our two weeks there and subsequent work, but there will always be the matter of the location's remoteness. We've discussed tying it in with another event (eg FlameTree if it returns in 2008) but it does suggest we should consider opportunities beyond the location. I'd also like to talk more about the potential 'bundle' of works we could bring together if the site-specific aspect proves unworkable, so we can go into the fortnight with a pretty strong idea of what we are working on ourselves, but also what everyone else hopes to achieve.
- Benjamin
I'm definitely finding 'too many ideas' more of an issue than too few. I guess that's a luxury that beats the alternative! I have a fairly strong impression of Bundanon in my mind, based on previous visits, so find a lot of my ideas are slotting into place in regards to specific things that may or may not work in different areas there.
When considering photographic/film opportunities, my thinking is more along spatial and reflective/responsive lines than historical, yet when I think of text it's the converse - it's more about exploring the time layer and being drawn to a 'yet-known' past, yet very much set in a particular space.
I've been reading a bit about Arthur and the Boyds, but not yet much about their time at Bundanon. I've been doing some 'practice' writing I suppose you might call it, but it's based more on Arthur's paintings than his life or Bundanon and surrounds.
'Based on' isn't very accurate mind you - it's more of a 'response' that touches on some of the themes and images (Greek mythology etc), but then takes on a life of its own. So while I could trace it back to what might have prompted a certain part or idea, it's probably not very obvious that they have any necessary co-relation. Some are closer than others, and some or so tangental as to bear little resemblance whatsoever - even to me by the time they're done.
I know we talked about a preference for a collaborative piece rather than a bundle, but the more I think about how it will work (the project, and the two weeks), the more I imagine it will be a mix. I've been spending the last few weeks and weekends devoting more time to creative work, and realising that creative fatigue can set in pretty quickly if I don't move from one form to another (eg after writing for a while, going and taking some photos to rest the writing mind).
I suspect similar things will happen over the two weeks, and that we will move between a central project and some parallel pieces to break things up. These pieces would still, potentially, fit into the 'umbrella' but also take some of the pressure off the joint work. Is this sort of approach what people are seeing working?
Rhi's concept of 'Distortion' is perfect. It fits really well with a lot of what we have talked about, and ties together that crucial third category of 'perspectives' in a way 'interventions' and 'fabrications' didn't quite.
Perspectives are very important to what we're all interested in, but until now seemed to have stood a little to one side. Distortion brings it in beautifully, and opens up a few more doors for my thinking about certain potential inclusions in the project - especially the visual aspects, but also in terms of writing.
The point about the difficulty of working with histories is definitely worth discussing. We're all under certain constraints (time, work, geographic) that mean a too-thorough understanding of the histories of Bundanon and its surrounds would come at the expense of actually creating any of our own.
What interests me more, anyway, is the imagined histories. Despite being fairly well maintained and set up, and a wealth of primary materials being theoretically available, most visitors to Bundanon only get a gloss of its history. They each carry around their own mix of snippets, the rest they fill in; imagining what life there was like, looking around to see whether they can sense the inspiration in the air.
Personally I think that's what we should also be working with - such snippets and snatches, given we can never hope to get across a 'complete' story anyway. And that's far from our purpose as I understand it. I see Bundanon and her history as a Pulpit Rock style leaping point, not a marsh for getting bogged down in. There is something in the air down there, and I want to spend time with that, not just tracing what somebody else did with it.
In terms of deciding 'which aspects of these ideas we'd most like to explore', I suspect they will all cross over at various points. We're still kind of dancing around our project it seems, rather than getting our teeth truly into it, but I wonder how much of that will chance in the next three weeks? I'm happy to nut down further if people are up for it and this blog is perhaps the best place for that.
Rhi feels we need to decide on what we are aiming to produce with a contingency plan if it doesn't work as planned. She mentioned agreeing on an expected outcome before we go away, else risk disaster. These seem good ideas, though I sense a little trepidation on people's behalf in this approach.
I'd like to hear what everyone thinks, but will go first. I'm still very much interested in exploring the potential for a site-specific work, but also remain aware that's one of the most logistically difficult. I think we could produce quite a strong project based on our two weeks there and subsequent work, but there will always be the matter of the location's remoteness. We've discussed tying it in with another event (eg FlameTree if it returns in 2008) but it does suggest we should consider opportunities beyond the location. I'd also like to talk more about the potential 'bundle' of works we could bring together if the site-specific aspect proves unworkable, so we can go into the fortnight with a pretty strong idea of what we are working on ourselves, but also what everyone else hopes to achieve.
- Benjamin
Monday, February 25
The long drive up to Blackheath gave me an opportunity to think about ideas for our project. And one of the thoughts I thunk was to do with blurring the boundaries between reality and art.
As an audience member, I thought it would be interesting to be walking in the native environment surrounding Bundanon, and to see a bug sitting on a rock, and need to do a double take in order to work out if it was real or fake. Or to see a canvas stuck to a tree, and not be sure where one ended and the other began – part of the canvas could imitate the texture and colours of the tree while the other part was imagined – a fantastical creature leaning against the trunk. Or to be walking past a fence and be momentarily confused about whether what you saw was a missing paling, or a photo of what was on the other side.
According to Julian, this approach has a label – ‘interventions’.
Perhaps these 'interventions' could become more and more fantastical as the artwork progressed.
I get nervous explaining my ideas to the group because what sounds great in my head is sometimes a lot less convincing when it comes out in words.
But thankfully this idea spurred some enthusiasm. Some of the ideas that grew out of our discussion included the exploration of place and how it changes over time. Maybe one of our ‘interventions’ could be a TV screen set in a particular environment, and events on the TV screen – changes caused by wind, light, weather – could occur at a different speed from the more static surroundings.
Using interventions might also give us a vehicle in which we could explore the relationship between the natural and built environments. Where does one stop and the other begin? Could we exaggerate the overlap?
Thinking about our small scale interventions also prompted a conversation about the impact of larger-scale intrusions. The Shoalhaven River runs through Bundanon, and when it was dammed it apparently caused several species of fish to become extinct. Maybe our project could incorporate interventions on a range of different scales?
-Rhiannon
As an audience member, I thought it would be interesting to be walking in the native environment surrounding Bundanon, and to see a bug sitting on a rock, and need to do a double take in order to work out if it was real or fake. Or to see a canvas stuck to a tree, and not be sure where one ended and the other began – part of the canvas could imitate the texture and colours of the tree while the other part was imagined – a fantastical creature leaning against the trunk. Or to be walking past a fence and be momentarily confused about whether what you saw was a missing paling, or a photo of what was on the other side.
According to Julian, this approach has a label – ‘interventions’.
Perhaps these 'interventions' could become more and more fantastical as the artwork progressed.
I get nervous explaining my ideas to the group because what sounds great in my head is sometimes a lot less convincing when it comes out in words.
But thankfully this idea spurred some enthusiasm. Some of the ideas that grew out of our discussion included the exploration of place and how it changes over time. Maybe one of our ‘interventions’ could be a TV screen set in a particular environment, and events on the TV screen – changes caused by wind, light, weather – could occur at a different speed from the more static surroundings.
Using interventions might also give us a vehicle in which we could explore the relationship between the natural and built environments. Where does one stop and the other begin? Could we exaggerate the overlap?
Thinking about our small scale interventions also prompted a conversation about the impact of larger-scale intrusions. The Shoalhaven River runs through Bundanon, and when it was dammed it apparently caused several species of fish to become extinct. Maybe our project could incorporate interventions on a range of different scales?
-Rhiannon
Approaches to collaboration\creativity
During the weekend it became apparent that each of us had different ways of approaching the collaborative process and that our minds engaged with the creative process in different ways. The significance of this was that if affected how we worked through topics and the time that we had to devote to each subject.
For example, an agenda item for the weekend was to decide on a specific project. Personally, I find working on something much easier when I have a specific project in mind. I like to know what it is I’m exploring conceptually/theoretically and the medium through which I will express it. Others in the group didn’t want to commit to a specific project until they had collected all the material for the project and then ascertained the way they wanted to use it.
These differences in approach have meant we’ve had to compromise. Those of us that want the specific project identified have managed to get a general commitment from the others to the idea of working on an onsite installation at Bundanon: subject to the proviso that if the material we collect there isn’t conducive to this or if it turns out we’re not allowed to do what we want (eg for public liability reasons or because we can’t afford the equipment we require) then we’ll go ahead with a different specific project instead. We’re aiming to brainstorm more ideas for the onsite installation and in two or three weeks time to get in touch with Bundanon to check that we will be allowed to put on the types of onsite installations we have in mind.
It remains to see whether this approach of ‘sort of but not quite committing yet to a specific project’ provides a workable compromise – but that’s part of this process – exploring what does and doesn’t work in the collaborative context. If it doesn’t work, then at least we will have learnt from the process.
Although we have all worked on various collaborative projects the collaborations have generally been much smaller – two artists working together. Bringing together five different artists to work collaboratively on the one project presents challenges that none of us have dealt with before.
One solution we raised to the challenge of the large size of our group was for the five of us to all work individually towards a collective outcome for project; ie to agree on one concept and then to take five different approaches to that concept. We all agreed this would be the quickest, easiest way to work. Julian explained that this was the approach he took with his collaborative project Compost. We all agreed that this approach didn’t capture what we wanted to achieve at Bundanon. In deciding to work together we all wanted the chance to work together on specific aspects of the work – to get another person’s input and ideas as the works evolved.
We also rejected the idea that all five of us will work together on absolutely everything. We have done quite a lot of work together in the early stages in an attempt to bring ourselves closer to a common understanding of what we want to achieve and in order to be ‘sparked’ or inspired by the others. We’ve brainstormed the theoretical basis of our proposal and some specific ideas for how we will achieve this. Having had these intensive periods of talking, which are to be supplemented by blog discussions, we don’t intend to take this collaborative approach all the way through each artwork. Instead we feel there will be some parts of the installation to which we all contribute, but for the most part we will break into smaller groups of two or three people working collaboratively on the specific aspects.
It has also been suggested that we select five sites at Bundanon for installations. Each person will have one site that they curate and will be responsible for getting the others involved with creating work for that site. Not everyone has to contribute to each site. Some techniques of working will be more time consuming that others, so where a technique or practice is more time consuming that person may find they only have time to contribute to a few of the sites.
We also discovered that conceptually we work quite differently. I grab onto the theory or idea very quickly and immediately want to drill down into the specific examples, to think about the application of the theory and how I will achieve it. I don’t like to spend too long talking about the high level concepts as I feel that’s a waste of time, I’d much rather be getting my hands dirty with writing a song or recording sound effects. Dan on the other hand liked to have the conceptual more firmly embedded in her mind. Rhiannon and I busily threw up ideas for specific tasks, such as creating interpretative signs, or writing a love song to conjure up romance and intrigue in the bushland grotto near the homestead. Dan felt she wasn’t contributing as much to specific ideas during this brainstorming and she was much happier spending more time discussing the high level ideas. On the second day Dan drew up a mud map of all the concepts we had discussed: authenticity, fabricated history, impermanence, etc. Having drawn up the mud map and discussed the concepts in more detail Dan was much happier to move along with the discussions – she told us that before doing that she had felt it was confusing and that she didn’t really understand what it was we were trying to achieve.
- Serena
For example, an agenda item for the weekend was to decide on a specific project. Personally, I find working on something much easier when I have a specific project in mind. I like to know what it is I’m exploring conceptually/theoretically and the medium through which I will express it. Others in the group didn’t want to commit to a specific project until they had collected all the material for the project and then ascertained the way they wanted to use it.
These differences in approach have meant we’ve had to compromise. Those of us that want the specific project identified have managed to get a general commitment from the others to the idea of working on an onsite installation at Bundanon: subject to the proviso that if the material we collect there isn’t conducive to this or if it turns out we’re not allowed to do what we want (eg for public liability reasons or because we can’t afford the equipment we require) then we’ll go ahead with a different specific project instead. We’re aiming to brainstorm more ideas for the onsite installation and in two or three weeks time to get in touch with Bundanon to check that we will be allowed to put on the types of onsite installations we have in mind.
It remains to see whether this approach of ‘sort of but not quite committing yet to a specific project’ provides a workable compromise – but that’s part of this process – exploring what does and doesn’t work in the collaborative context. If it doesn’t work, then at least we will have learnt from the process.
Although we have all worked on various collaborative projects the collaborations have generally been much smaller – two artists working together. Bringing together five different artists to work collaboratively on the one project presents challenges that none of us have dealt with before.
One solution we raised to the challenge of the large size of our group was for the five of us to all work individually towards a collective outcome for project; ie to agree on one concept and then to take five different approaches to that concept. We all agreed this would be the quickest, easiest way to work. Julian explained that this was the approach he took with his collaborative project Compost. We all agreed that this approach didn’t capture what we wanted to achieve at Bundanon. In deciding to work together we all wanted the chance to work together on specific aspects of the work – to get another person’s input and ideas as the works evolved.
We also rejected the idea that all five of us will work together on absolutely everything. We have done quite a lot of work together in the early stages in an attempt to bring ourselves closer to a common understanding of what we want to achieve and in order to be ‘sparked’ or inspired by the others. We’ve brainstormed the theoretical basis of our proposal and some specific ideas for how we will achieve this. Having had these intensive periods of talking, which are to be supplemented by blog discussions, we don’t intend to take this collaborative approach all the way through each artwork. Instead we feel there will be some parts of the installation to which we all contribute, but for the most part we will break into smaller groups of two or three people working collaboratively on the specific aspects.
It has also been suggested that we select five sites at Bundanon for installations. Each person will have one site that they curate and will be responsible for getting the others involved with creating work for that site. Not everyone has to contribute to each site. Some techniques of working will be more time consuming that others, so where a technique or practice is more time consuming that person may find they only have time to contribute to a few of the sites.
We also discovered that conceptually we work quite differently. I grab onto the theory or idea very quickly and immediately want to drill down into the specific examples, to think about the application of the theory and how I will achieve it. I don’t like to spend too long talking about the high level concepts as I feel that’s a waste of time, I’d much rather be getting my hands dirty with writing a song or recording sound effects. Dan on the other hand liked to have the conceptual more firmly embedded in her mind. Rhiannon and I busily threw up ideas for specific tasks, such as creating interpretative signs, or writing a love song to conjure up romance and intrigue in the bushland grotto near the homestead. Dan felt she wasn’t contributing as much to specific ideas during this brainstorming and she was much happier spending more time discussing the high level ideas. On the second day Dan drew up a mud map of all the concepts we had discussed: authenticity, fabricated history, impermanence, etc. Having drawn up the mud map and discussed the concepts in more detail Dan was much happier to move along with the discussions – she told us that before doing that she had felt it was confusing and that she didn’t really understand what it was we were trying to achieve.
- Serena
Monday, February 11
A life of its own
Where does it come from? Or, as my inner sub-editor would insist I put it (would insist it be put?): from where does it come?
With photography, it seems at times to be a simple matter of ‘capturing a moment’, a scene, a pre-existing slice of life that is there to be witnessed, with the click of a shutter button all that’s required to transfer this graspable, definable, readily perceivable moment to film – or, increasingly, pixels. But of course in that instant a multitude of decisions are being made. For every shutter speed selected countless more are discarded. The edges of the selected scene are determined in part by the parameters of the lens, in part by the judgment as to where the ‘interest’ and 'story' begins and ceases to exist.
How many details are allowed to be brought in? Where will the focus be? What level of implied movement will be allowed, how much will the illusion of time passing be sutured to what is a medium that is necessarily timeless, frozen, terrifyingly still? Because a photograph is implication, a visual fragment redolent of so much more, a form of suggestion that awakens the absent senses to their possibilities, the sound and smell and taste that all existed in that moment.
Working with sound is almost the converse. From the very beginning we are blind. Or, more accurately, we must render ourselves blind to what we have the luxury of being able to see. Again, decisions must be made, certain aspects must be elevated over others. Working with voices, we need to understand that once these voices are recorded, removed from the circumstances and environment of their instantiation, all that is left is disembodied sound that will bear to varying degrees a resemblance to their uttering, but carrying no trace of the visual cues of social interaction.
With ‘found sound’, the exhilaration of the city or exhalation of the earth, there is always a question as to how much of that environment we are trying to evoke, or how much we are content for it to be divorced from its moment of production. On one hand it will depend upon our purposes, our intentions, yet on the other there is always this – regardless of what we may have in our own mind, the message or story we are trying to project, once we use it, release it back into the wild amidst all the other sounds, it will once again take on a life all of its very own.
With the act of writing, it appears even more is left to chance, whim or personal idiosyncrasy. From a seething multitude of words we pluck a random selection and string them into what is hopefully a coherent whole. Like side-show contortionists they twist and turn, toss and tumble, reflecting not a moment or reality, but the inner workings of an imagination run amok.
Yet on closer inspection, one wonders if that is indeed the case. These words are all being drawn from somewhere; they are being placed one after another not as random artefacts, but as known objects being used in a familiar fashion. To make any sense, we rely on certain patterns and concepts, a shared agreement on what is and is not acceptable, understandable. Of course all these rules can be broken, but one wonders if the same is not true of photography, sound, painting, drawing, sculpting, music.
I think it is and it isn’t; there are perhaps common points, cross-over moments, shared traits. But – rather more excitingly - each has its own strengths and weaknesses, each holds a power and a mystery that the others can but struggle to emulate, necessarily failing, falling, yet standing up, dusting themselves off again and jumping out once more into that unknown, where they will either briefly touch that which they seek, or fall into a beautiful mess while striving.
It is this mystery and the opportunity to create work that will take on an unpredictable life of its own that has drawn me to the life between buildings project, as well, of course, as the opportunity to work closely and creatively with Danielle, Rhiannon, Julian and Serena - special people whose own work and ideas and passions I have long admired. I can’t wait to see what happens as we bring all these aspects together, discovering what new spaces are created when all these voices and fragments and ideas collide, coalesce and combine.
- Benjamin
With photography, it seems at times to be a simple matter of ‘capturing a moment’, a scene, a pre-existing slice of life that is there to be witnessed, with the click of a shutter button all that’s required to transfer this graspable, definable, readily perceivable moment to film – or, increasingly, pixels. But of course in that instant a multitude of decisions are being made. For every shutter speed selected countless more are discarded. The edges of the selected scene are determined in part by the parameters of the lens, in part by the judgment as to where the ‘interest’ and 'story' begins and ceases to exist.
How many details are allowed to be brought in? Where will the focus be? What level of implied movement will be allowed, how much will the illusion of time passing be sutured to what is a medium that is necessarily timeless, frozen, terrifyingly still? Because a photograph is implication, a visual fragment redolent of so much more, a form of suggestion that awakens the absent senses to their possibilities, the sound and smell and taste that all existed in that moment.
Working with sound is almost the converse. From the very beginning we are blind. Or, more accurately, we must render ourselves blind to what we have the luxury of being able to see. Again, decisions must be made, certain aspects must be elevated over others. Working with voices, we need to understand that once these voices are recorded, removed from the circumstances and environment of their instantiation, all that is left is disembodied sound that will bear to varying degrees a resemblance to their uttering, but carrying no trace of the visual cues of social interaction.
With ‘found sound’, the exhilaration of the city or exhalation of the earth, there is always a question as to how much of that environment we are trying to evoke, or how much we are content for it to be divorced from its moment of production. On one hand it will depend upon our purposes, our intentions, yet on the other there is always this – regardless of what we may have in our own mind, the message or story we are trying to project, once we use it, release it back into the wild amidst all the other sounds, it will once again take on a life all of its very own.
With the act of writing, it appears even more is left to chance, whim or personal idiosyncrasy. From a seething multitude of words we pluck a random selection and string them into what is hopefully a coherent whole. Like side-show contortionists they twist and turn, toss and tumble, reflecting not a moment or reality, but the inner workings of an imagination run amok.
Yet on closer inspection, one wonders if that is indeed the case. These words are all being drawn from somewhere; they are being placed one after another not as random artefacts, but as known objects being used in a familiar fashion. To make any sense, we rely on certain patterns and concepts, a shared agreement on what is and is not acceptable, understandable. Of course all these rules can be broken, but one wonders if the same is not true of photography, sound, painting, drawing, sculpting, music.
I think it is and it isn’t; there are perhaps common points, cross-over moments, shared traits. But – rather more excitingly - each has its own strengths and weaknesses, each holds a power and a mystery that the others can but struggle to emulate, necessarily failing, falling, yet standing up, dusting themselves off again and jumping out once more into that unknown, where they will either briefly touch that which they seek, or fall into a beautiful mess while striving.
It is this mystery and the opportunity to create work that will take on an unpredictable life of its own that has drawn me to the life between buildings project, as well, of course, as the opportunity to work closely and creatively with Danielle, Rhiannon, Julian and Serena - special people whose own work and ideas and passions I have long admired. I can’t wait to see what happens as we bring all these aspects together, discovering what new spaces are created when all these voices and fragments and ideas collide, coalesce and combine.
- Benjamin
Wednesday, January 30
In the beginning...
If we were to go back to the start – where this all began – we’d find two girls, a kayak and an idea. Throughout 2006, Rhi and I were training for a kayak endurance race. Many mornings were spent (before work) paddling on Sydney Harbour working our biceps while soaking up – from a comfortable distance – the early morning chaos of inner city working professionals. Being on the water also gave us a unique perspective of a lesser-known Sydney: homeless men fishing from the wharf with self-made fishing rods, riggers working on the wharf at Cockatoo Island, old mansions nestled along the shores of Lane Cove River…
The harbour, with its vibrancy, chaos and intricate buzz, gave us energy to keep powering forward. But it also fed our creativity. Although I suspect mostly it was simply the time our training afforded us to bounce ideas back and forth across the kayak. Either way, much inspiration was found during our long paddles. Many new ideas formed: a book to be written, a story to be told, a blog to form, a project to implement, an organisation to begin. How often did we suddenly realise our paddles were lying dormant across the kayak while we excitedly chattered about our latest creative endeavour!
One morning we were lamenting the lack of people we knew who were interested in talking about music – talking deeply about it, tearing it apart and dissecting its layers, exploring its darkest secrets… and so, after a bunch of emails were sent to friends, acquaintances and a few randoms, our Nerd Music Nights began!
At the initial Nerd Music Night we explored the music of Liza Lim, while drinking red wine and enjoying the vegan goodness Rhi and I enthusiastically cooked up for our new friends. And since then we’ve found ourselves emersed in many critical listening and focussed discussion nights, supporting the presentation of each others creative practices, enjoying vibrant colourful (and at times rather raucous!) dinner parties, adventuring in the wilderness of Australia and spending far too much time guzzling beer after gigs and concerts while arguing, bitching and ranting about all that is art…
Curiousity began to grow about our own creative practices: Were there crossover points in our personal approaches to creativity? What would it be like working together to create art? How could we work together? What would we create? Eventually another idea emerged…
…And so here we are…
Where will this new idea take us? Who knows! But it is with great excitement that we begin working creatively together and we invite you to follow our creative process through reading this blog. Stay tuned!
- Dan
The harbour, with its vibrancy, chaos and intricate buzz, gave us energy to keep powering forward. But it also fed our creativity. Although I suspect mostly it was simply the time our training afforded us to bounce ideas back and forth across the kayak. Either way, much inspiration was found during our long paddles. Many new ideas formed: a book to be written, a story to be told, a blog to form, a project to implement, an organisation to begin. How often did we suddenly realise our paddles were lying dormant across the kayak while we excitedly chattered about our latest creative endeavour!
One morning we were lamenting the lack of people we knew who were interested in talking about music – talking deeply about it, tearing it apart and dissecting its layers, exploring its darkest secrets… and so, after a bunch of emails were sent to friends, acquaintances and a few randoms, our Nerd Music Nights began!
At the initial Nerd Music Night we explored the music of Liza Lim, while drinking red wine and enjoying the vegan goodness Rhi and I enthusiastically cooked up for our new friends. And since then we’ve found ourselves emersed in many critical listening and focussed discussion nights, supporting the presentation of each others creative practices, enjoying vibrant colourful (and at times rather raucous!) dinner parties, adventuring in the wilderness of Australia and spending far too much time guzzling beer after gigs and concerts while arguing, bitching and ranting about all that is art…
Curiousity began to grow about our own creative practices: Were there crossover points in our personal approaches to creativity? What would it be like working together to create art? How could we work together? What would we create? Eventually another idea emerged…
…And so here we are…
Where will this new idea take us? Who knows! But it is with great excitement that we begin working creatively together and we invite you to follow our creative process through reading this blog. Stay tuned!
- Dan
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