Activate-Cultivate—a red letter day for the art of the nomads
Exhibition opening, Chips Mackinolty, MAGNT, 7 October 2011
Acknowledgements, including Larrakia, but also all artists here this evening, and all artists whose work is held within the walls of the Museum. Some of those artists are unknown, many have passed away—but their work lives on within these walls.
I’m in an odd position: a bit over two years ago, I was writing speeches for Minister McCarthy—and now I have to write them for myself. As usual, though, tonight the minister will get the last word—Gerry is notorious for changing his notes! At least when I did it, it was on areas such as building highways and road train regulation—and not on more important issues such as the arts.
Speaking of the arts, it’s not widely known, but Gerry is a musician in a Tennant Creek band … so he’s used to winging it and improvising … sometimes—not always—to the terror of his departmental and ministerial advisers.
Tonight, though, is different.
Gerry: I’ve seen your departmental speech notes—and I’m sure you will stick to them.
That’s because Activate-Cultivate is a groundbreaking exhibition. For the first time this century, we have a major show of non-Aboriginal local contemporary art at the Museum. The fact we are eleven years into the century to get here says a few things …
What it mostly says is that the treatment of non-Aboriginal contemporary art by institutions such as the Museum, in the last decade or so, has largely reflected a hidden history.
For a variety of reasons, the challenge of non-Aboriginal contemporary art in the Northern Territory has not been met by the Museum. And it is a challenge.
We are the only jurisdiction in the nation in which Aboriginal art is deeply enmeshed in local cultural life: for Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people alike. We are far more aware of the diversity of Aboriginal art here, and its fundamental importance to an understanding of kin and country.
That the Northern Territory is home to Australia’s richest and most varied Aboriginal cultural heritage is a cliché.
There is a strong temptation, when promoting the Territory to each other—or to the rest of the world—to use Aboriginal art, music and imagery indiscriminately. If not as a direct use, there is also an apparently open invitation to slip into an “Aboriginal style” for our promotions: a few dots and a bit of cross hatching here and there, the odd boomerang, lavish use of ochre colours, and some didjeridu music, is often seen as sufficient to “represent” the Territory.
In reality, there has long been criticism of government and its agencies for their indiscriminate use of Aboriginal culture—particularly imagery. Artwork has often been used without particular regard to its meaning or relevance to the promotion; work has been reproduced without permission or acknowledgement—let alone payment, and forged work has been used. Graphic artists—both Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal[1]—have used iconography that is inappropriate, and/or “borrowed” or “adapted” with little thought.
Yet we are also the only jurisdiction in which—on the surface at least—non-Aboriginal artists are largely invisible—and that invisibility extends to the acquisition and exhibition polices of the Museum over the last decade and a half.
Perhaps the main reason for this is the massive turnover of non-Aboriginal people within the Territory’s population.
Consider this: over the last 20 odd years, the Territory’s population has risen by about 100,000 people. Most of you here—I imagine—would assume that a good proportion of that growth of 100,000 people is down to migration of people from interstate. Most people I’ve asked this question reckon that between 40 and 80 per cent of that population growth is from people who have arrived from the southern and eastern states.
But it is a completely and utterly false idea.
In fact—since such figures were collected in 1982—there has been a net loss of population towards interstate migration of around 14 or 15 per cent. On average, the Northern Territory loses about 500 people a year to people permanently leaving the place to live interstate.
The only accounting for that growth in population is through international migration and the growth in the Aboriginal population.
As I have written elsewhere, the rest of us are—by and large—the real nomads.
In reality, the recent re-run of the debate about who is a real Territorian is, in a sense, a false one. The argument seems mostly to be around the circumstances which allow some nomads to call themselves “Territorians”, and which nomads are to be regarded as mere Southerners who should go home and stop destroying our Territory Way of Life.
Of the 12 artists represented here in Agitate-Cultivate, only two still live here—with one studying temporarily interstate.
And this represents the artistic output of work of a four or five year period ending just a decade ago. In other words, three quarters of the artists have been unable to resist the nomadic urge, and moved on. It’s much the same rate as former chief ministers who still live here.
So perhaps that is what is problematic in talking about non-Aboriginal art here and in many other galleries across the Territory.
Rather than talking about non-Aboriginal work, perhaps we should be talking about the art of the nomads, and that’s how maybe the Museum should conceptualise such work.
With that in perspective, the current exhibition of Red Hand graphics is not just a ground breaking exhibition—it is also a red letter day for the art of the nomads here in the Northern Territory.
I said before this exhibition reflects part of a hidden history—it is the hidden history of the art of the nomads.
Each of the 12 artists represented worked at various stages with or along side Aboriginal people and artists—yet none can be accused of appropriating Aboriginal art … why should they? Their work draws on quite different traditions—drawn from elsewhere, but absolutely serving the interests of people living here—Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal. Their political work was—as well—absolutely and explicitly opposed to the Territory’s ruling social, political and cultural interests.
It is the work of subversive nomads—vastly different from those who come here, make a pile of money, and leave. It is the work of artists who have deliberately left a mark on the Territory as an explicit part of their practice. Kit was a period of intense and constructive engagement—and commitment.
As I have quoted Eileen Lim elsewhere:
(Red Hand) gave a voice to those who may have had none. Red Hand has supported the Jabiluka protests, May Day marches promoted local bands and events. It also reached out to the local Darwin community and collaborated with the Government, school children and prison inmates to create posters that educated people regarding the consequences of committing crimes and how to look after health and environment.
So in making their mark, the Red Hand crew also gave people a voice.
Activate-Cultivate is a tribute to this short part of the Territory’s history—and art history—and I congratulate the Museum for reviving that voice.
Let’s hope the Museum will continue to promote the art of the nomads.
Thank you.
