yesterday, after many pointed crossings
i began reading 'The Fatal Shore', by Robert Hughes.
It is a canon of convict history and colonial settlement of Australia,
but even more than this,
in the opening pages
i get the essence of Australia, the basis of our collective culture
Hughes places the colonial experience in context of our national identity
and sees our history in a way, I think,
captures the melancholy reality in which were founded
and subsequent shaping of our country.
the first chapter opens ones eyes to the reality and insanity
that was the first fleet and sending of thousands of England's underbelly
to a distant unknown land
Hughes also creates the scene for the reality of Aboriginal people living in the Sydney area at the time (1788)
I am astounded that someone has pointed out the complexity, beauty and strength of the tribes of people who existed in this land for hundreds of generations. It was not a simple, congruous group of people, rather a diverse set of many multi-lingual clans, with intimate knowledge systems and connections.
But mostly, what my mind keeps returning to is the phrase....
'the convict stain'.
As an artist looking at natural dyes, plants, culture, history etc, this struck a chord within my brain.
I think also of the English 'Red Coats', army supply coats of the 18th century, made from the squashed bodies and blood of Cochineal - a bug/insect grown on cactus. I found some recently
and squashed it onto a piece of cloth, the stain was memorable...
deep blood red.
so i meander in my thoughts to the convict stain...in its metaphorical nature
how our country was founded, carved and built upon the blight of England's blanket,
the stain a nation that has transformed into its own...
i think of the plants, the juice growing out of the bedrock of this ancient land
and how they have seeped into the collective conscious
how they have imprinted upon our culture
stained, dyed and fixed.
the colours are plentiful.
there is a universe of wealth inherent in this land
i remember the day Kevin Rudd made his famous 'Sorry' speech to the stolen generations
i was in my studio in winnellie
it was raining and raining
i made a painting...it was black with coats and coats of white washed over the time
i scratched back the the layers and wrote
echoed were kevin's famous words...
remove the stain of my soul.....
