University of Wollongong Theses Collection University of Wollongong Theses Collection
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Imprint of a landscape: a Yarrawa Brush story
Ruth Roby University of Wollongong
Roby, Ruth, Imprint of a landscape: a Yarrawa Brush story, MCA thesis, Faculty of Creative Arts, University of Wollongong, 2007. http://ro.uow.edu.au/theses/15/
This paper is posted at Research Online. http://ro.uow.edu.au/theses/15
IMPRINT OF A LANDSCAPE: A YARRAWA BRUSH STORY
A thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the award of the degree
MASTER OF CREATIVE ARTS RESEARCH
from
UNIVERSITY OF WOLLONGONG
by
RUTH ROBY, BCA Hons
FACULTY OF CREATIVE ARTS
2007
CERTIFICATION
I, Ruth M. Roby, declare that this thesis, submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the award of Master of Creative Arts, in the Creative Arts Faculty, University of Wollongong, is wholly my own work unless otherwise referenced or acknowledged. The document has not been submitted for qualifications at any other academic institution.
Ruth M. Roby
21 November 2007
Abstract
The Yarrawa Brush landscape, situated on the Robertson Plateau just above the
Illawarra escarpment, has long been a place of solace and connectedness for me, documented over the years through intensely worked etchings. My immersion in that specific landscape over time, and my research into the Aboriginal and white settler history has left an indelible imprint on my sense of self and an awareness of loss. As
Allen Carlson has noted, three of the major art-philosophical texts produced over the second half of the last century have neglected the Aesthetics of Nature. Focusing on the field of environmental aesthetics, this thesis argues for the value of experiencing the natural environment. It situates my etchings and digital video in relation to work by colonial artist Louisa Atkinson (1834-1872), who resided near the Yarrawa Brush district at the time of early settlement, and contemporary artist John Wolseley (b1938).
Acknowledgements
Many thanks to Aboriginal Elder Val Mulcahy, who was raised on a mission in La
Perouse, for her time, generosity and encouragement. Val’s grandmother was from the
Gundungurra Aboriginal people of the Southern Highlands. Thanks also to Kelvin
Lambkin, Sydney Catchment Authority, for his first hand information on the archeological dig at Wingecarribee Swamp; also to Pat Hall, Manager of Education,
National Parks and Wildlife; and Beth Boughton, National Parks and Wildlife, Fitzroy
Falls, for their knowledge of local Aboriginal Sites and history.
Last but not least, many thanks to my supervisors and teachers at the University of
Wollongong over the course of my candidature, especially Sue Blanchfield, Diana
Wood-Conroy and Richard Hook for their generosity in time, expertise and patience, and to my technical assistants, especially Robin Douglas, Didier Balez and Brent
Williams.
Contents
Glossary of terms 5
1. Imprint: a Personal Perspective 6
2. Loss and the ‘Impenetrable’ Yarrawa Brush 11
3. Environmental Aesthetics and the Value of the Natural Environment 16
4. Nature and the Art of Louisa Atkinson & John Wolseley
Louisa Atkinson 23
John Wolseley 29
5. My Work
Etching 34
Process and Materiality 38
Video 39
6. Conclusion 45
Bibliography 49
List of Plates 56
Glossary of Terms
This page sets out meanings as they are prescribed in this thesis.
Environmental Aesthetics: one of the two or three major new fields of Aesthetics to emerge in the second half of the twentieth century: it focuses on philosophical issues concerning aesthetic appreciation of the world at large. (Allen Carlson 423)
Immersion: the state of being deeply engaged; absorption.
Natural environment/landscape: descriptive term for a site which is predominantly of natural origin, but not necessarily untouched by humans.
Objective: Free from personal feelings or prejudice; unbiased.
Subjective: pertaining to or characteristic of an individual thinking subject; personal; individual.
Imprint: a Personal Perspective.
“My connection to nature and to wilderness always involves the idea of death as
well as life. We think of wilderness as kind of bursting with life, which it is, but it’s
also full of death.” (Australian cartoonist Michael Luenig, Film Australia’s
“Wilderness”, introduction)
When I say “imprinted on my sense of self” – what does that mean? Over the twenty seven years I have lived at Robertson I have been to the Robertson Nature Reserve hundreds of times.
I have been there in the morning when the mist hangs in the air and shafts of sunlight pierce the canopy to highlight the brilliant lime-green of a fern, or the moss-draped edge of a twisted, half-rotten branch.
I have been there when the wind blows and the patches of light quiver and move restlessly, exposing, then covering the details like a moving picture show, and the wind sounds move in a similar way, and clusters of spiderwebs glisten and sway in the sunlight.
On cold, wet days the rain drenches everything including me, and I have stood as the rain washed over me, seeming to take away all else. After the rain the fresh fungi sprout forth, amazing in their variety of shape, texture, and size - in colours from cream to green, brown, soft purple, pale flesh-pink, coral, apricot - even a bright, glossy red.
There are the common types that I recognise easily, as well as the unusual – more fascinating because of their rarity. Some fungi I have seen only once, and searched in vain for another over the years.
Fig. 1. Ruth Roby. “Fungus Cluster on Fallen Log”, 2007. Digital photograph.
I have glimpsed the sudden flashes of bright red and cobalt blue as the rosellas flit back and forth collecting for their nests, their raucous chattering and screeching interspersed with the lilting melody of kurrawongs and magpies, and the less-frequent sharp whip- crack of the whipbird.
I have listened on soft moonlit nights (aided by a small torch to avoid tripping), when the only sounds were of the dew dripping from leaf to leaf, or the plaintive cry of a night bird, or an animal softly scratching in the distance.
I have viewed the reserve through a child’s eyes - and children have the happy knack of seeing what we might have missed. Like a tiny, heart-shaped leaf skeleton, a fascinating insect, or a crop of minute fungi growing half inside a rotting log.
I noticed the vines gradually snaking upwards, stealthily twisting and squeezing their hapless support until it rots away underneath, and the marvelous, massive curtain becomes too heavy and falls, bringing down all with it.
Fig. 2. Ruth Roby. “Vine Curtain Swathed in Moss”, 2007. Digital photograph.
Once when I was hurrying along the path (noisily because it was getting late and I had things to do) and I happened to notice something out of the corner of my eye. Two large brown kangaroos sat bolt upright and perfectly still, staring at me from the undergrowth, their ears pricked. They regarded me for some moments before bounding off - out of sight in just a few leaps. I marveled that they managed to move so swiftly, surefooted and graceful on the thick, unstable undergrowth. I had usually only seen kangaroos in open grasslands, and the reserve is surrounded on all sides by urban development.
In recent years I have become much more aware of sound intrusion from that development. Sometimes, the natural forest sounds are almost drowned out with sounds that jar in that environment - cars, trucks, planes, the steam train coming in to the station, dogs barking, children shouting, even jazz from the local pub on Sundays.
These sounds are becoming more and more insistent with increased population and more tourist traffic.
It has become much more difficult to be alone in the reserve, and I find myself deliberately arranging my visits for times when I think it will be less busy- like when it is windy, cold, rainy, or late in the day. And every time I have been there the forest has changed. It is in a constant state of flux, growth and decay - life and death co-existing.
I watched my children grow up and, through their experiences with nature, develop a natural sense of wonder and respect.
Even in my darkest moments, I could still feel pleasure in the reserve. Some exquisite detail would capture my attention, distracting me with its wonderful strangeness - yet familiarity. For me it was as an affirmation of the continuation of life in the presence of death, enabling me more acceptance of the same in a human context. I immersed myself in the forest for hours at a time, yet those hours seemed like minutes.
My experience in the reserve shaped me in a way nothing else could. It has become an indelible part of me, like an old friend, and I would feel the loss in a similar way if it was destroyed. It has imprinted on my sense of self.
Loss and the ‘Impenetrable’ Yarrawa Brush
Fig.3. Ruth Roby. “Yarrawa Brush Landscape” 2003. Computer-manipulated photograph.
I cannot think of the Yarrawa Brush without acknowledging great loss.
The Aboriginal word ‘Yarrawa’ – meaning greedy, voracious, shark-like (Organ 476) aptly described the vigorous growth habit of the original Yarrawa rainforest. Prior to white settlement, the Yarrawa Brush was dense primeval forest, considered virtually impenetrable. The Empire newspaper in 1856, for example, described the area as the
“thickest jungle in the colony” (Mills and Jakeman 31). This view is supported by surveyor Robert Hoddle’s description of the Yarrawa Brush;
“ I commenced to encounter the most formidable brush I have seen since I have
been in this colony. It abounds with every species of prickly brush, vine, bramble
and nettle. The vines so thickly entwined around the huge trees and small as to
render the sun obscure at the time it shone with great brilliancy.” (Giles 6)
James Jarvis gave a more detailed account in 1937;
“East of Bowral and Moss Vale, towards the edge of the plateau, lies a rich patch of
volcanic country that remained a veritable ‘No Man’s Land’ for over forty years
after the settlement of the Southern Highlands country. [….] it was covered with a
dense brush in which the sassafrass, the tree fern, the cabbage palm, the lilli pilli,
the messmate and the giant gums ran riot. Intertwined with these were vines of
every description, which make it well nigh impossible to penetrate the scrub. Two
basaltic ridges […] run west. Between them lies a marsh -- the Wingecarribee
Swamp – one of the many homes of the bunyip.” (originally recorded in Royal
Historical Journal and Proceedings 292)
Sadly, the reference to the Aboriginal creature, the bunyip1 was excluded from this passage in later publications2, which seems to reflect other exclusions in some of our white settler histories.3
1 The Macquarie definition of the bunyip is an imaginary creature of Aboriginal legend, said to inhabit marshes and billabongs. The Gundungurra Aboriginal people, whose lands probably took in the Yarrawa Brush district, have a dreaming story called “The Koala and the Bunyip” (Mulcahy 2003) 2 Such as A History of the Berrima District 1798-1973 (Jervis 1973,1978,1986), and Wingecarribee: Its Early History (1975, adapted from Jervis’ original article, published and currently distributed by the Berrima District Historical Society). 3 For an excellent analysis of this see McKenna, Mark. Looking for Blackfella’s Point: An Australian History of Place.
It is thought that the tribal lands of the Gundungurra people took in the Yarrawa Brush
(Meredith 7, Mulcahy 2003), but it is impossible to ascertain the exact boundaries as no
historical records and no precise oral accounts exist relating to that area. However there
are many archeological and ethnographic (cultural) indications that Aboriginals made
significant and prolonged use of the resources in the area. Information on Aboriginal
use of food resources is available from oral tradition (Mulcahy 2003) historical
accounts by early settlers and explorers 4 and from the analysis of tools and bones from
archeological sites.
Because of concerns regarding desecration and degradation of important Aboriginal
sites, knowledge of their location and access is restricted and is only permitted under
the guidance of the National Parks and Wildlife Aboriginal Sites Officer. However, I
was able to learn that there are many Aboriginal sites such as charcoal drawings,
campsites, hand-stencils, axe-grinding grooves, and rock art in close proximity to
Robertson (Hall 2003), as well as Aboriginal carved trees at Moss Vale and rock art
and burial sites near Mittagong (Slater 1982).
Potentially the most exciting archeological site is that recently investigated at the
Wingecarribee Swamp which lies immediately adjacent to the Yarrawa Brush. As the
swamp is a peat bog, it may be possible that Aboriginal artifacts have survived that
would not have survived elsewhere. The initial dig uncovered “a large quantity of
Aboriginal artifacts per metre” and the peat bog material has been carbon 14 dated by
4 e.g. Stockton 92, Barralier 5.
Environmental Aesthetics and the Value of
Experiencing the Natural Environment
“ creative knowledge cannot be abstracted from the loom that produced it.
Inseparable from its process, it resembles the art of sending the woof thread through
the warp. A pattern made of holes, its clarity is like air through a basket.” (Paul
Carter 1)
Since ancient times people from many different cultures have sought to encounter healing, rejuvenation and self-knowledge by experiencing wild nature (Knapp & Smith
6). However, despite a long, cross-cultural tradition of valuing immersive experience in the natural environment, as an artist in contemporary society it can be problematic to express these experiences credibly. For example, Allen Carlson has noted that during the second half of the last century, none of the three major texts, such as Monroe C.
Beardsley’s Aesthetics: Problems in the Philosophy of Criticism 1958 5, Philosophy
Looks at the Arts: Contemporary Readings in Aesthetics, edited by Joseph Margolis 6,
1978, and Art and Philosophy by Magolis, 1980, on the subject of philosophy and art criticism even mentioned the aesthetics of nature, and when nature was alluded to by analytic aestheticians, “its appreciation was typically treated as basically subjective,
5 Monroe Curtis Beardsley (1915-1985) was an American philosopher of art. Best known for his work in aesthetics as a champion of the instrumentalist theory of art and the concept of aesthetic experience. Elected president of the American Society for Aesthetics in 1956. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monroe_Beardsley)
6 Joseph Margolis (b 1924) studied at Columbia University, New York, for both his M.A. and Ph.D. degrees in Philosophy. Margolis has taught at numerous universities in the U.S.A. and Canada, as well as lecturing throughout Europe, in Japan, New Zealand, and South Africa. He is currently Laura H. Carnell Professor of Philosophy at Temple University, Philadelphia, U.S.A.. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joseph_Margolis)
therefore trivial, and, in comparison with that of art, of less aesthetic interest” (Carlson, in Gaut & Lopes 425, 1995). Carlson supported the aesthetic value of the natural environment and argued for its inclusion in art criticism. He reasoned that scientific knowledge could play a vital role in the aesthetic appreciation of nature, helping to render it ‘serious’ rather than ‘trivial’, and that it played a unique role in arguing for conservation or preservation of our natural environments.
While some notable writers in the field of philosophy and aesthetics (Margolis,
Beardsley) have neglected or dismissed the natural environment; others in the fields of art history, aesthetics, philosophy and geography, such as Ronald Hepburn7 (1966),
Marcia Muelder Eaton 8 (1998), Simon Schama 9(1995), Jay Appleton10 (1996), Emily
Brady 11 (1998) and Patricia Mathews12 (2002), have argued convincingly for its philosophical and aesthetic value.
7 Scottish philosopher known for Contemporary Aesthetics and the Neglect of Natural Beauty 1966 in which he challenged the neglect of the natural landscape in art criticism. Also ‘Being’ as a Concept of Aesthetics, British Journal of Aesthetics, 1968, 8, 138-146. 8 Professor of Philosophy, University of Minnesota. Eaton’s core concept of art is her belief that aesthetic properties can be understood fully only in relation to culture and human values—including ethical values. “Some properties matter in some cultures, not in others,” she explains. “Shapes, colors, sounds matter differently in different cultures. Whether something is original is very important in our culture; in others, it’s not so important.” (http://www2.cla.umn.edu/clatoday/Summer03/Eaton.html) 9 Professor of history and art history at Columbia University. Born, London, 1945 into a Jewish family - both sets of grandparents had fled persecution. Immigration, movement, cultural collision are part of his experience and are central themes in his work. (http://www.age-of-the- sage.org/history/historian/Simon_Schama.html) 10 Emeritus Professor of Geography, University of Hull, England. Appleton argues that aesthetic values in landscape are not found in an elevated philosophy of aesthetics or in a culturally bound artistic symbolism but in the biological and behavioral needs that we share with other animals. Thus, the aesthetics of landscape may be approached through other areas of human experience and science, especially the natural and behavioral sciences. http://www.washington.edu/uwpress/search/books/APPSYM.html 11 Joined Institute of Geography, Edinburgh in 2005. Previously Senior Lecturer in Philosophy at the Institute of Environment, Philosophy and Public Policy, Lancaster University, and Associate Professor of Philosophy at Brooklyn College-CUNY. Vice-President of the International Society for Environmental Ethics; Associate Editor of the journal, Environmental Values; and Co-Editor of
In 1966, Hepburn wrote Contemporary Aesthetics and the Neglect of Natural Beauty, in which he put forward several reasons why experience in the landscape is valuable and relevant to art philosophy. As Hepburn pointed out, unlike framed art objects (such as paintings), natural environments are, in most instances, frameless - although we may temporarily confine them visually within a parameter when initially we study them, before widening the frame of reference. An example is when one’s mind temporarily focuses in on an interesting texture or detail, and then gradually takes in the surrounding environment. In contrast to viewing a framed art object, when a people are immersed in a natural landscape they are usually surrounded on all sides, and are allowed the prospect of interacting with nature. Hepburn explained it thus;
“I am both actor and spectator, ingredient in the landscape and lingering upon the
sensations of being thus ingredient, rejoicing in their multifariousness, playing
actively with nature, and letting nature, as it were, play with me and my sense of
myself.” (13) (my emphasis)
For Hepburn, immersion in the natural environment is a potentially rich and engaging experience, enabling and reinforcing a better understanding of one’s place in the world.
As the sculptor Barbara Hepworth aptly expressed;
Environment and Planning D: Society and Space. In Aesthetics of the Natural Environment (2003). Brady developed a theory of the 'integrated aesthetic' which integrates subjective and objective approaches to aesthetic experience and value and argues that aesthetic valuing of nature potentially grounds an environmental ethics based in respect for nature. (http://www.geos.ed.ac.uk/homes/ebrady/) 12 Associate Professor 1985, Art History Faculty, Oberlin, Ohio. University of Houston, B.A., 1974, University of North Carolina, Ph.D., 1984. http://www.oberlin.edu/art/facultypages/pmathews.html
“What a different shape and ‘being’ one becomes lying on the sand with the sea
almost above from when standing against the wind on a sheer high cliff” (Hepburn
13)
Here, location, scale and perspective come into the equation. The sensation of movement, whether our own or part of the environment, also enriches and varies the experience. Sometimes that movement might be as subtle as the gentle movement of air around us, which although invisible, is traced by the motion of the things it touches or the sound it creates. Hepburn held that even if art could provide these ‘distinctive and valuable experiences, it would not be to the same degree as nature (Hepburn 16).
Simon Schama explored the emotional reactions experienced when immersed in the natural landscape in his book Landscape and Memory (1995). Schama argued that these emotional reactions can be explained by a latent, but powerful memory bank, which he called ‘unconscious memory’. He linked ‘unconscious memory’ to instinct, which suggested that it would exist for an indeterminate time, not just a lifetime (7). Schama expressed it thus;
“landscape is the work of the mind. Its scenery is built up as much from strata of
memory as from layers of rock.” (ibid)
Jay Appleton (1996) also supported the role of instinct with his ‘prospect-refuge’ theory. Appleton linked instinct to human reactions to the natural landscape through an analysis of the habits of birds and animals and the ways in which they might recognize a landscape as either a prospect or a refuge (The Experience of Landscape, chapters 2-
10). Appleton recognized the incompleteness of his theory, saying that his aim was to open up discussion on what he felt was a neglected issue.
Patricia Mathews (2002) debated the value of Allen Carlson’s model based on scientific knowledge and the aesthetic appreciation of nature, analyzing its inherent advantages and problems (37). For one thing, the model imparts the opportunity for an objective appraisal of nature, as opposed to subjective. But how are we, Mathews asks, to differentiate between the seemingly limitless scientific knowledge to find that which is most relevant to aesthetic appreciation of nature? For Carlson, the relevant knowledge is defined by ecology, natural science, natural history, and common sense.13
Emily Brady (1998) argued that Carlson’s science-based model does not give sufficient emphasis to the role of imagination in aesthetic appreciation. Brady maintains that perception and imagination play a central role in guiding our aesthetic appreciation of the natural landscape. (139) Marcia Muelder Eaton (1998) summed up Brady’s central argument thus;
“immersion stimulates imagination, and imagination intensifies experience”(151)
(my emphasis)- to which I would add; imagination inspires curiosity and curiosity strengthens the urge towards knowledge. Brady’s acknowledgement effectively states the validity of the rapt engagement of a child in a natural environment such as a rainforest, for example. I still remember vividly some of the experiences I enjoyed in the rainforests as a child. These early experiences often impact on our imagination,
13 For discussion of this see “Nature, Aesthetic Judgement and Objectivity”, The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, Vol 40, 1981, pp21-25.
curiosity and creativity as adults, inspiring many of us to express ourselves visually through art, or textually, through poetry and literature.
Eaton also highlighted the importance of imagination in creatively experiencing the natural environment, and pointed out that imagination is also vital to science, referring to the interdependent role of imagination and scientific knowledge in this example;
“Thinking about the consequences of destroying the tiny remainder of old growth
forests [….] surely requires imagination. But it requires informed imagination”
(151).
Science stimulates increased interaction with the natural environment, and enhances creativity. For instance;
“Without science, there is no sense of deep time, nor of geological or evolutionary
history, and little appreciation of ecology. Science cultivates the habit of looking
closely, as well as looking for long periods of time. One is more likely to
experience the landscape at multiple scales of both space and time” (Rolston
Holmes 111 376).
And as Eaton points out, many ecologists are motivated in the first place by their aesthetic experiences (151).
Scientific knowledge is unique in that it can provide an objective argument for the value of the natural environment and aid efforts for conservation or preservation. But as this chapter has shown, the fact that sensory, imaginative and emotional responses to the natural landscape are inherently subjective, does not mean that they are trivial or
unimportant. As Paul Carter has observed; science and poetic creativity are related,
even convergent, and they both suffer under the restrictive nature of a research
paradigm in which knowledge and creativity have been treated as mutually exclusive.
(7)
Like Carter’s ‘pattern made of holes’, the gaps and/or inconsistencies that have been identified in prominent art-philosophical texts (relating to the value of the natural environment in life and in art) have sometimes made it problematic as an artist to express that experience credibly. Yet, as Hepburn, Schama, Appleton, Mathews, Brady and Eaton have argued, there are significant features that come into play when one is immersed in a natural environment that enrich and extend its aesthetic and philosophical worth, and interactive factors that shape our sense of our place in the world.
In the next chapter I discuss colonial artist Louisa Atkinson and contemporary artist
John Wolseley, whose work has been profoundly influenced by their experiences in,
and interactions with, the natural Australian environment. Although their lives are
separated both geographically and in terms of time, both Atkinson’s and Wolseley’s
work is borne out of a desire to communicate their passion for the environment and
their awareness of loss.
Nature and the Art of Louisa Atkinson & John Wolseley
Louisa Atkinson
“In these busy times, and in the universal pursuit of wealth which characterizes the
state of things among us, the beauties of nature are in danger of being overlooked”
(Atkinson, in Clarke 77).
Louisa Atkinson (1834-1872) was born at Oldbury Farm, Sutton Forest, in the Southern
Highlands about 32kms from Robertson. Atkinson suffered from ill health due to tuberculosis and died at age thirty eight of a heart attack. She experienced loss and hardship in her personal life, and was witness to the terrible losses suffered by the
Aborigines. The ‘impenetrable’ Yarrawa Brush was settled and extensively cleared during her lifetime.
Atkinson stands out amongst colonial woman artists of her time. As a botanist, naturalist, journalist, novelist and artist, and in spite of her ill health and early death, she exceeded the limitations society imposed on colonial women of the time. She became known and respected by her male contemporaries, such as the botanist William
Woolls.14 Through Woolls, Atkinson began corresponding with the foremost botanist of Australia at the time, Ferdinand von Mueller. Atkinson eventually had seven plants named after her and the breadth of her botanical discoveries was recognized in
England.15 This was extremely unusual in the male-dominated world of botany, which some thought was unsuitable for a lady to contemplate seriously due to its ‘sexual’
14 Woolls actually contacted Atkinson after reading one of her articles (Wyatt 29). 15 Atkinson’s botanical discoveries were acknowledged by English botanist George Bentham over one hundred times in his seven-volume Flora Australiansis (ibid).
connotations.16 Atkinson was an enthusiastic nature-lover who disregarded prevailing attitudes with her forays into wild nature, in and out of forests, ravines and fern gullies, on foot and on horseback, sometimes alone (Lawson 64). She had notes published on zoology and geology and learned taxidermy (42), but her life-like illustrations of birds and animals were not the stiff scientific illustrations that often resulted when drawn from dead specimens. They evidenced a keen eye for detail and an extensive knowledge of the habits of living creatures.17
Atkinson was sympathetic to the Aboriginal plight. For example, in her article on the
Fitzroy Waterfalls, she wrote,
“Poor creatures! With their sins and good qualities; friendships and hatreds, so
quickly to have passed away! We may spare their memories a few minutes, even
when standing on the summits of the cliffs” (19).
“Aboriginal grave-mound with carved funeral trees” (Fig.6) was featured in about 1853 in the first of two articles entitled “The Native Arts” that Atkinson had published in the
Illustrated Sydney News. It seems likely that the figure, reclining in an idyllic, classical pose, was added by the engraver – Louisa described the ‘desolation of a site lost in all senses to its people’ (ibid). The site was no doubt close to Atkinson’s heart as it was situated on Gingenbullen Mountain behind the family residence, Oldbury.
16 The Linnaen system of botanical nomenclature required fluency in Latin and classified plants in a sexual way. This mode of conversation was not considered decent for women (Brown 23). 17 eg. Atkinson’s works for the Illustrated Sydney News which included possums, magpies, a sparrow-hawk, plover, flying squirrel, ring-tail possum and koala. Her notes highlight the active play of possums which: ‘on warm nights .. skip from branch to branch with a truly tropical celerity..whisking their long and bushy tails, fan-like, through the air…’ (Lawson 47).
birds. 20 She noticed the scarcity of red cedar, recommending plantings in moist glens in the Illawarra, Sassafrass, and the Lower Kurrajong, and she lamented the
‘widespread death’ of the forests near Berrima, caused either by ringbarking or dieback resulting from the excess moisture held in the ground after large sections of forest had been removed. She wrote;
“it takes no fertile imagination to foresee that in, say, half a centuries time, tracts of
hundreds of miles will be treeless.” 21
Atkinson was profoundly influenced by her experiences in the natural environment. In spite of gender-based restrictions, she communicated her passionate engagement with the environment and concerns for the future to the wider community through her many published articles. 22 Her literary, artistic and scientific work demonstrate her recognition of the value of the natural environment, an awareness of loss, and a sensitivity to environmental concerns that was ahead of her time. Reading Atkinson’s quote relating to the ‘overlooking of natural beauties’ at the start of this chapter, it is hard to believe it predates Hepburn’s concern by about one hundred years.
20 ‘Climatic Influences on the Habits of Birds’, “A Voice From the country”, Sydney Morning Herald, 1870. 21 ‘After Shells in the Limestone’, “A Voice From the Country”, Sydney Morning Herald, 24th May 1870, p5, and ‘The Fitzroy Waterfalls”, Sydney Morning Herald, 2nd January 1871, p 5. (qtd. in Lawson 96) 14. Atkinson communicated her ecological concerns through her long-running series of published newspaper articles and her novels.
John Wolseley
“I have several times returned to a site to finish a painting, and found my gaze
meets earth ravaged and denuded. I feel I am witnessing a landscape in decline.”
(Wolseley, on clear-felled Tasmanian old-growth forest, in Carter 19)
John Wolseley (b 1938) migrated to Australia from England in 1976, and has since lived and painted all over the continent of Australia (de Gryse & Sant 98). Wolseley’s art always reflects the specific living systems in which he situates himself. Due to his process of traveling, observing and recording what he sees as a disappearing wilderness, he has been likened to the European colonial artist/explorer (McLean 7). For Wolseley, however, wilderness does not mean un-peopled, nor a denial of indigenous presence on the
Australian continent for tens of thousands of years prior to white settlement (ibid). Through his art and his writing, he argues for the ecological and philosophical value of the natural environment – an environment which Wolseley is keenly aware is under increasing threat
In works such as “Concerning the passing of the glaciers and the coming of the first lichens
(Tasmania)” 1994 (Fig 10), Wolseley makes visible his interest in scientific concepts such as those in Holmes’ quote in chapter 3 - the sense of deep time, of geological or evolutionary history, and an appreciation of ecology. As Holmes said, science cultivates the habit of looking closely, as well as looking for long periods of time.
Wolseley expresses the beauty and fragility of this landscape in a profusion of sensitive wash and colour, detailed - then indistinct. The work is fragmented, which suggests the passage of time and distance. The images appear and fade away on the luminous fluidity of the surface.
“I started painting in a rather wild and haptic way. […] On that hot, November
morning I created my own [watercolour] deluge on those sheets of paper – as if
responding to the drought-stricken yearnings of all that country around me.” (ibid)
As Wolseley re-enacts the forces of nature, in a sense he visualizes self as nature. The paper is subjected to rigorous physical exposure to the elements, the passage of time and distance, and contact with any birds, insects or small animals that happen to come along. Nature and chance are Wolseley’s tools in the making of the work, which he eventually retrieves and finishes with detailed, sensitive watercolour. Pieces of animal matter and other debris are physically imprinted into the work, some already decimated, ephemeral memories of events in time. Thus the work emerges almost as a visual catharsis of Wolseley’s desire to assimilate into the landscape he depicts. Personal, involved immersion in the Australian landscape is absolutely central to Wolseley’s sense of self, expressed textually in his writings and visually in the work inspired by it.
For some time, Wolseley has been interested in the interactive effect of wild nature on the human mind23
“I’m sure many, like me, have had the experience of walking in wild country
and come upon those special areas, but with some other dimension. Very often
one is predisposed to feel this because there are sacred paintings in caves –
[sometimes] and especially in Australia, there are no obvious signs of anything
man-made.” (89)
23 In Our Common Ground Wolseley explores Eastern and Western philosophy in relation to experiencing nature.
In another example Wolseley expresses the powerful reaction he has when he finds a cave with ancient Aboriginal carved images.
“I know of a place n a steep ravine in a mountain range in the Northern
Territory where] I always feel a compulsion – almost as if I was being pulled by
a magnet – to go up and up. Once I did, and far up into the secret combes found
some images carved inside a cave which were so powerful that I
experienced……I can only call it a kind of terror”(Our Common Ground 91).
This remark indicates Wolseley’s reverence in regard to Aboriginal culture, as well as a feeling of alienated fascination he cannot fully explain. Sensations such as these stir the imagination as per Muelder Eaton’s succinct summary “immersion stimulates imagination, and imagination intensifies experience” (151)
Wolseley expresses a sense of alienation or strangeness which he struggles to analyze, but rather than effecting withdrawal this enriches the experience. The experiencing of nature as ‘other’ is balanced by a sense of connectedness.
Although their lives and work are separated both historically and geographically,
Atkinson and Wolseley shared a common ground. Their scientific interests, keen observation skills and passion for the natural environment, communicated through their writing and their art, are tempered by an awareness of loss.
My Work
Etchings
“To reach the pool you must go through the rainforest –
through the bewildering midsummer of darkness
lit with ancient fern
laced with poison and thorn……”
(Judith Wright, The Gateway 59)
Fig. 12. “A Yarrawa Nocturne” 2007. Softground etching/aquatint on Rives BFK 250g paper. 50x60cms.
My etchings of the rainforest in Robertson Nature Reserve could be described as romantic representations - expressions of the physical and emotional experience of the
site, influenced by imagination and knowledge of the Yarrawa Brush history. My aim is not to give a photographic representation, although it is important for me to represent real locations. The use of the Aboriginal name “Yarrawa”, in works such as “A
Yarrawa Nocturne” 2007 (Fig.11), rather than the current name of the Robertson
Nature Reserve is in recognition of loss.
Fig.13. Ruth Roby. “A Wild and Most Romantic Place” 2007. Softground etching/aquatint on Arches 250g paper, 60x50cms.
“A Wild and Most Romantic Place” 2007 (Fig 12) recalls a past during early white settlement of the Yarrawa Brush. I wanted to express some of that complex, mysterious, primeval atmosphere that I enjoy so much. The title recalls botanist
William Woolls’ diary entry describing the local rainforest after his visit in 1863;
“I cannot but express the pleasure I felt in visiting a wild and most romantic part of
the colony where I had the opportunity of examining in the living state many plants
quite new to me, and noticing some of the results of free selection” (Robertson
Environment Protection Society 2).
In many ways, rainforest images such as “A Yarrawa Nocturne” and “A Wild and Most
Romantic Place” (Fig.13) are introspective rather than realistic. They are personal, subjective representations of my experience in the rainforest - through which I hope to express some of the emotive, cognitive and sensory quality of that experience. For me, the finished images represent a nexus between the real and the imagined – perhaps closer to film director Jane Campion’s expression of the ‘subconscious imagery of bush’ than to reality;
“The bush has got an enchanted, complex, even frightening quality to it, unlike
anything you see anywhere else. It’s mossy and very intimate, and there’s an
underwater look that has always charmed me. I was after the vivid, subconscious
imagery of the bush, its dark, inner world” (139).
I am intrigued by this notion of the ‘subconscious imagery’ or ‘dark, inner world’, and its relationship to the mind. The tangled complexity of the rainforest seems chaotic, and
yet each plant or organism exists in fragile interdependency, which seems to suggest a metaphor for the tangled complexity of the mind.
Up until now, all the natural landscapes in my art have been empty (in the sense of a lack of visible human presence or signs of human intervention). I am aware of the rhetoric surrounding the ‘empty wilderness’ landscape, which has been suggested as constituting on the one hand a lack of recognition for the presence of indigenous peoples prior to white settlement24 and on the other, a failure to recognize the logical fact that people (e.g. the artist or photographer) had to be present in order to actually see the landscape. Such writers argue that the landscape as un-peopled (therefore
‘unspoiled’) is a mythical construction that does not reflect reality.25
My absence from the landscapes I depict does not indicate a denial of human presence, nor a personal feeling of separation from a nature to which I feel very connected. For me, the landscape itself assumes prime importance, and my immersion within it is most intense when I am alone. As novelist Patrick White wrote;
“The ideal landscape I visualized during my exile and which drew me back, was
always, I realize, a landscape without figures” (Falkiner 88).
My intention in these images is to represent them in a way that reflects my personal
(subjective) experience. I am aware, however, that as my etchings depart from reality, they perhaps neglect an issue that is crucial to our future. Visually, the etchings present as images which refer to an historical ideal, rather than a contemporary reality. But
24 Simon Schama, J.W.T Mitchell, Geoff Levitus to name a few. 25 See Adrian Franklin’s “The Humanity of Wilderness Photography” (2006) for an analysis of issues surrounding this concept.
increased awareness of the beauty, diversity and conservation value, even in a small remnant such as the Robertson Nature Reserve, need not always come from a documentary or informative approach. Sometimes images such as these can increase awareness in a more subtle way, informed by the long processes of a medium.
Process and Materiality
The etching images are roughly mapped out from my initial reference photographs, with the composition altered as necessary for balance. Once I have the general outlines in place, I work intuitively, building up form, texture and tone through repeated softground applications, marking and etching. I press into the softground wax using unconventional tools such as rag, sponge, toothbrush, plant material, etc., which tends to give the image a less-controlled effect sympathetic to the chaotic nature of rainforest.
Often, accidental marks appear on the plate caused by the ground breaking down during the many acid-immersions. Some of these random marks lend themselves perfectly to renditions of rainforest. The image is eventually made up of marks that may appear abstract in themselves, but when viewed as a whole suggest rainforest. Finally, the deepening of the aquatint tones gives a quality not unlike the effect of sharp contrast between bright sunlight and deep shade, or of the mysterious half-light at dusk – reminiscent of Wright’s ‘midsummer of darkness’.
The materiality of the work is meaningful to me - the layers of marks slowly built up or erased are like layers of memory and meaning. Just as the landscape has imprinted on me, I imprint the soft wax on the plate. Temporary marks become permanent when
etched, but can be obliterated by subsequent etching or deliberate scraping away. Like memories etched in my mind, the images I create recall my immersion in the landscape.
Time alters both the landscape and the plate. There is an affinity between the gradual disintegration and creation of the plate of the image, and the cyclical process of growth and decay that characterizes the rainforest.
Materials suggest their own interpretations. The etchings are always departures from the original intention. Creative and technical compromises, they compose and de- compose, eventually becoming something quite removed from the original source.
Though a single etching can take months to complete, I am never fully satisfied with the finished print.
Video
“The view that an unspoiled environment is one untouched by humans can hardly
be pushed to its logical conclusion, and in any case it is misleading, first because it
sets Man against Nature, where it is more illuminating to see Man as a part of
Nature; and secondly because we are not always despoilers” (Seddon 112).
Although the etchings continue to be a meaningful channel of self-expression for me, I have become increasingly frustrated by a need to say more than I can express through the still image alone. My first attempt at moving-picture technology stems from that growing frustration. Digital video allows me to bring in different aspects of my experience- such as the sensation of being physically immersed in the landscape, of the
passage of time, and of course, sound. I am motivated by an urge to communicate the essence of the things I value in my own experiences. If I achieve some measure of success, parts of the film might resonate vicariously with memories of other human experiences in the natural landscape, or arouse imagination or curiosity in the viewer.
As I said earlier, the sounds I hear in the reserve are often not the expected sounds of a rainforest. Mainstream nature documentaries emphasize the natural (expected) sounds, with any intrusive background noise edited out so as not to interfere with the pleasant
(but often unrealistic) notion of an unspoiled nature. This is sometimes reinforced by a music score and photographic manipulation which can make the accompanying scenes seem almost surreal.
A prime example of the unspoiled nature genre can be seen in the “The Edge: the
Ultimate Blue Mountains Wilderness Experience”, shown at the Imax Cinema,
Katoomba, 2007. Floating aerial shots give a sensation of flying and an impressive overview of the geomorphology of the Blue Mountains area. The camera takes you over waterfalls and cliffs, into canyons and underground caves. A ‘birds eye view’ gives the sensation of being immersed in the landscape, complimented by selective use of the fish-eye lens and time-lapse photography. The conservation message is clearly stated within a ‘sublime’ context (i.e., humans pitted against the life-threatening forces of nature) interspersed with an ethereal, classical music score, and highlights the problem of how we are to experience wild nature without destroying it in the process.
only to shoot the film. I wanted to show the rainforest with its wonderful variations in light and shadow unhindered by unrealistic lighting.
“It’s a strange light, a light that comes from above, but also from many different
directions at once. There can be very sudden gradients of light and shade from a
blaze of sunlight coming from the canopy to the darkest shadow [….], and these
will happen within inches of each other. We’ve tried to represent it honestly, and let
it be a dark place.” (Stuart Dryburgh director of photography, The Piano, pp 141-
142)
I want the rainforest to speak for itself - any amazement that may eventuate will not be of technological origin. The passage of considerable time was important for me as I wanted to depict the rainforest in variant weather conditions, times of day and seasons.
It takes time to develop intimacy, and I want to communicate a measure of that. The impressive time-lapse photography in films such as “The Edge: the Ultimate Blue
Mountains Wilderness Experience” accurately reflects the phenomena of a fast-paced, time-poor and information-overloaded, contemporary existence. In contrast, I want to represent a contemplative, though imperfect, nature.
Earlier in this thesis, I expressed a yearning for solitude when immersed in the landscape. Solitude carries with it notions of silence. Herein resides both a dilemma and an opportunity for thoughtful discussion. For the ‘silence’ when in ‘solitude’ in nature, is not silence at all. As John Andrew Fisher has pointed out, we never really experience a total absence of sound;
“What we find in nature is often “silence” of a special sort. Negatively, this silence
is the absence of human-made sounds, but positively this silence comprises a
background of low-level sounds that provide a sonic carpet on which other sounds
of nature appear to great effect.” (170)
This ‘sonic carpet’ in the natural environment carries pleasant connotations and has the capacity to positively influence mood. If sounds are included which seem out of place, they can interrupt the sense of peace or reveriě one might otherwise feel.
Of relatively small area and positioned as it is within urban development, the Robertson
Nature Reserve’s natural ‘sonic carpet’ is overlaid, often dominated, by extraneous noise which interrupts these pleasant associations between nature and silence. In our desire to experience the ‘silence’ of an ‘unspoiled’ nature we sometimes inadvertently filter out sounds we do not wish to hear, just as we might not see visual elements that are out of place when taking a photo. I was unaware of how intrusive the extraneous
(non-rainforest) noise really is in the reserve until I recorded it and played it back. The initial compulsion was to edit out all traces of non-rainforest sound in order to realize the expected – the ‘natural’ state of nature. But this is not the reality.
Urban development is encroaching more insistently on our ‘natural’ environments. The juxtaposition of natural environments such as national parks with urban or other development is now often the norm, rather than the exception. I have chosen to work with limited or no sound manipulation throughout my film. By using the unexpected sounds, coming from outside the reserve, along with the expected, I hope to coax
thought and discussion on contemporary issues such as conservation and sustainability - while acknowledging the shifting boundaries of our perceptions of what constitutes a
‘natural’ environment.
The video “Rainforest: Time and Change in a Yarrawa Brush Remnant” has taken more than a year to complete, and its conception and thought process longer. The idea was conceived during a time of great loss, which caused me to question my life and my creative intentions. The film differs from the etchings in that it is a more realistic and inclusive expression of my experience in the reserve, and the ancient process of etching contrasts with the cutting-edge technology of high-definition digital film on BluRay disc.
The film begins on an historical note, with a reference to Woolls’ quote of ‘a wild and most romantic place’, with visual imagery to match: a dark, primeval rainforest in the midst of a winter thunderstorm. The forest progresses through time, natural forces and the transience of the light, until gradually, signs of change insinuate themselves into the scenes- initially subtle, then more and more insistent. The film constructs, then subverts, our notions of an ideal nature. For me, the etchings and video interconnect in important ways. Expressions of the same place, they are both representations layered with time, memory and meaning.
Conclusion
“As science constructs realities, so does art, and both set out to define aspects of
that intuitive self-awareness that is the essence of human experience. It might be
that science, considered as a whole, [….] constitutes the greatest human artifact of
all. It is conversely true that art, in its manifold realizations, is a kind of science, a
mode of research into the mysteries of the individuated human consciousness.”
(Mel Gooding 10)
Using the medium of video has given me an enriched understanding of the reserve.
What is seen through the lens simultaneously frames, and enlarges our frame of reference. Very low perspectives, close-ups and motion make visible things that usually go un-noticed without photography- like the tiny bugs active amongst the rich, dense debris on the forest floor, the infinitely diverse color and fragile translucency of rotting leaves, and the amazing resilience of spider webs as they are stretched to incredible lengths, then spring back when the wind subsides. Solitude in the reserve, as the film demonstrates, is far from silent, and sound can alter our perception of an environment in an instant.
These realizations have fed back into the most recent etchings - for instance,
“Wombat’s eye view: Yarrawa Brush” 2007 (Fig. 15), where I have used a low- perspective, close-up view of the forest floor. The co-existent life and death characteristic of rainforest are evident in this work as living mosses, fungi, lichen and ferns are interspersed with misshapen, decomposing matter. The wombat is unseen, but
placed in the work as observer. The three separate plates were worked on together during the etching process and could have been printed as one continuous image.
Instead I decided to re-position the third plate at the other end with a gap between. I wanted to suggest the separation and isolation of the remnant pockets of the original
Yarrawa Brush - a more and more common situation as forests around the globe are broken up by development.
Fig.15. Ruth Roby. “Wombat’s eye view, Yarrawa Brush” 2007 (detail of plates 1&2).Triptych, three 50x60cm plates, etching/aquatint on Rives BFK 300g paper.
Environmental concerns are now at the forefront of political debate, with un- precedented interest in conserving and appreciating our environment. Scientific knowledge fills a vital role in research and conservation, but it need neither dominate nor diminish aspects of aesthetic experience – on the contrary, it can provide a valuable contribution to the enrichment and diversification of that experience. Under a
constantly shifting and diverse critical and creative framework, immersion in the landscape and art inspired by it, can occupy a mutually interactive position, both in our understanding of the world, and in our motivation to preserve our natural environments.
The omissions in art-philosophical texts (such as Aesthetics : Problems in the
Philosophy of Criticism, Philosophy Looks at the Arts: Contemporary Readings in
Aesthetics and Art and Philosophy), rather than diminishing the experience of landscape; have inspired many others to argue for its value. Immersion in the natural landscape can enrich, inform, and call into question our place in the world. As Hepburn expressed;
“[It is] a rich and diversified experience, far from static, open to constant revision of
viewpoint and organization of the visual field, constant increase in scope of what
can be taken as an object of rewarding contemplation, an ideal of increase of
sensitivity and in mobility of mind” (Hepburn, in “Nature in the Light of Art” in
Wonder and Other Essays 1984, p5).
Like many artists my practice has been driven by an urge to express my own interpretation of reality. It is an interpretation that is framed contextually; by my knowledge and intellect, and creatively; within the restrictions, possibilities and materiality unique to the creative process.
Like Atkinson and Wolseley, immersion in the natural environment has been crucial to my development, both as an artist and person. I identify closely with the sensibilities of
Atkinson as she experienced the Southern Highlands landscape over one hundred and thirty years ago and expressed sadness at its decline, and to Wolseley who expresses
similar concerns within a contemporary framework of ecological awareness. My work and my sense of self are profoundly influenced by the knowledge of real and potential loss and by recognition of the cultural, ecological, aesthetic and philosophical value of that which remains. My experience in the Yarrawa Brush rainforest has shaped me in a way only the landscape could. Deborah Bird Rose referred to this interactive relationship when she said;
“The process of relationship [with nature] is not one way. I thought at first that Mal
was inscribing himself into the mountain, and only belatedly did I come to
understand how deeply the mountain was inscribing itself into Mal.” (212)
The Yarrawa Brush is indelibly imprinted on my sense of self.
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Film/Video
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Primary Sources for Aboriginal Sites and Local Knowledge
Boughton, Beth. National Parks and Wildlife Officer, Fitzroy Falls. Telephone
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Hall, Pat. Manager of Education, National Parks and Wildlife. Telephone interview,
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Unreleased Information on the Wingecarribee Swamp Archeological Dig
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List of Plates
Fig. 1. Ruth Roby. “Fungus Cluster on Fallen Log”, 2007. Digital photograph.
Fig. 2. Ruth Roby. “Vine Curtain Swathed in Moss”, 2007. Digital photograph.
Fig.3. Ruth Roby. Yarrawa Brush Landscape 2003. Computer-manipulated photograph.
Fig.4. “The original extent of the Yarrawa Brush and its present distribution -based on
Mills 1988”. (Mills & Jakeman 37)
Fig.5. S.R.Beers. “Tea House, Public Park, Robertson”, about 1920. (later Robertson
Nature Reserve). Photograph courtesy Robertson Heritage Co.
Fig.6. Louisa Atkinson. “Aboriginal grave-mound with carved funeral trees”, Illustrated
Sydney News, Nov. 26, 1853, p59. Engraving (taken from Atkinson’s drawing).
Fig.7. Louisa Atkinson. “Longfall from below first leap 28th July” Pen and ink
illustration on paper. Mitchell Library PXA4500.
Fig.8. Louisa Atkinson. “First leap of Longfall July 25th” Pen and ink illustration on
paper. Mitchell Library PXA4500.
Fig.9. “Working on newly cleared land with a single furrow plough near Robertson”
(formerly Yarrawa) early 1900s? Photograph. (Giles 12)
Fig.10. John Wolseley. “Concerning the passing of the glaciers and the coming of the
first lichens (Tasmania)” 1994. watercolour on paper, 162x220cms.
Fig.11. John Wolseley. “Camel Gate, Border Track SA/VIC.” 2006. Watercolour,
carbonized wood and graphite on paper, 209x195cms.
Fig. 12. “A Yarrawa Nocturne” 2007. Softground etching/aquatint on Rives BFK 250g
paper. 50x60cms.
Fig.13. Ruth Roby. “A Wild and Most Romantic Place”. 2007. Softground
etching/aquatint on Arches 250g paper, 60x50cms.
Fig.14. Ray Jarrat. One of a series of photographs on the making of “The Edge: the
Ultimate Blue Mountains Experience” (Skinner 54)
Fig.15. Ruth Roby. “Wombat’s eye view, Yarrawa Brush” 2007. Triptych, three
50x60cm plates, detail of plates 1&2. Etching/aquatint on Rives BFK 300g paper.