Artist's
Statement
In Jean Cocteaus
film The Blood of a Poet, Orpheus dives into the underworld through a
doorway that turns into a watery mirror the instant his body commits to
the passage. The artists fall opens up a world of insights that
lie outside the mobile-net range of language. Like Orpheus, the artists
promised return with stories to tell and souvenirs to share is what fascinates
and draws us into to the gallery space.
Few people venture into the Orphic world of the mangroves. They are not
something you pass through on the way to somewhere else. Mangroves demand
a quantum leap of entrance, of being inside. And once you have left the
familiar solid shore, you must give yourself up to the laws of mud, and
mirrored waters. Ghostly white figures of mangrove trees, finger roots
and eye socket holes stand prop-like on an estuarine stage. Here imagination
follows matter. All life is interconnected, hyper-adaptive and flexible.
Temporal and spatial references must be renegotiated. Stillness and patience
force an attentive silence and a breathing that is long, slow and deep
in tune with the pulse of the river. The reward is a gradual introduction
to the mangroves as a sympathetic organism a body with much more
going on beneath the surface expanses of dumb mud, reflective pools and
unruly trees.
Growing up in this littoral world of pandanus palms, saltwater tidal flows
and mud flats, I developed a kind of intimacy inside the mangroves. My
childhood was spent fishing, swimming and playing inside this lateral
rhizomatic world of pneumatophores, serpentine roots, and aquatic lunar
rhythms. These early experiential images made up the important first burn
to my psychic memory banks. Regular return visits to the same childhood
haunts have over the last thirty years served to rewrite and update my
mangrove homepage.
Mangroves can be read as dramatic sites of creation and renewal, decay
and death. Aesthetically, Tea-tree sepia-waters mix at low tide with burnt
umber mud crab browns. Casuarina dark greens are washed by verdant greens
of young shoots and dashes of Soldier Crab mauve. Vermilion mouthparts
and ochre yellow play against Tango orange sunsets. All this is deep etched
(toasted) over the pulsing tinnitus samplings of millions of cicadas that
are so loud they rewire the synaptic nerves in your brain. Increasingly
showing signs of stress under the weight of urban and industrial development,
mangroves are only now being seen as our ecological vital organs that
filter, cleanse and give birth to marine life. These sublime, mysterious
and uncanny zones also play an integral cultural role as seamless joins
between place and identity and serve as metaphors and models for our post-modern
heterotopic society.
In the wall-mounted sculpture Site 85: Mangrove Machine, an old oyster
lease sign turned jetsam, is recycled as a conceptual road sign indicating
the muddy track leading to a riparian underworld. This exhibition can
be read as a series of analogue and digital image maps; each
designed to navigate the border zones between our fluid and creative natures
and the more concrete social realities we must return to with Orpheus
at our sides. |
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