The Hunter Rubáiyát : Illustrating Edward FitzGerald’s Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám in a contemporary Australian setting. 

Tallulah Cunningham BNHI (Hons)

PhD Natural History Illustration March 2015

i ABSTRACT

Edward FitzGerald’s poem Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám has been illustrated over a hundred and fifty times during the decade and a half since its first publication. These illustrations have depicted exotic, arcadian other-places that ignore the poem’s frequent endorsement to live with immediacy. My Practice-based Creative PhD project has focused on producing a visual interpretation that reflects the immediate landscapes of my own physical situation: modern Australia. I have crafted illustrations that use the current landscapes and biotic content of the Hunter Valley, NSW, to emphasise not only the ongoing relevance of this poem to the brevity of human life but also my interpretations of the poem. To describe the poem’s frequent references to the passage of time I have drawn on my experience as a Natural History Illustrator, integrating the cycle of seasonal climatic events, plant and animal behaviour into my visual interpretation. I have also inverted the existing trend of exotic illustrations in a familiar physical context (that of a book) by presenting my depiction of the familiar, local environments in two exotic formats. These formats are based on Japanese narrative-scrolls and woodblock prints, providing unusual and intentionally tactile creative objects. ii THE EXEGESIS The exegesis consists of the contextualisation and documentation of my practice- based creative project. The research project was not undertaken with the intention of answering a question but rather to address limitations I had identified in the existing visual representations of the Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám and to create a version that conveyed my own connection to the text.

THE CREATIVE WORKS The creative work of this research project, described in entirety as The Hunter Rubáiyát, consists of two sets of illustrations. The first, The Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls, are two hand scrolls which I differentiate with the titles Summer Scroll and Winter Scroll. The second set of illustrations consist of the Kúza-Náma Woodblocks, five laser-etched woodblocks, and the five Kúza-Náma Prints which were produced from the woodblocks. For ease of identification I refer to these individual images in text-based on the main imagery of each: Cockatoo, Wattle, Wasp, Bat and Lizard.

Physically accompanying this exegesis are reproductions of the two Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls and original prints of the five Kúza-Náma Prints. In order to protect the outer surface and to provide a tactile surface similar to the original objects I have attached fabric covers to the scrolls. This fabric differs from that of the originals but shares the same style of linear pattern, texture and Japanese origin. The prints are from the editions I produced for my exhibition held at Maitland Regional Art Gallery, Maitland, NSW, March-May 2014.

All images in this exegesis, unless stated otherwise, were created by the author of this document.

REFERENCING THE CREATIVE WORK Throughout this exegesis I reproduce details from my sketchbooks, draft scrolls and the final creative works. The four sketchbooks are chronologically sequential and, for clarity of reference within this exegesis, are labelled Sk1, Sk2, Sk3 and Sk4. The relevant page numbers are indicated in the sketchbook identity: thus “Sk1.p3-6, 12” indicates pages three to six and page twelve from the first sketchbook. These, and all of the compositional draft scroll and woodblock designs, are accessible on the accompanying Image Appendices DVD.

A NOTE ON NAMES

The spelling of Omar Khayyám and the word rubáiyát vary depending on the author. I have applied the version used by FitzGerald and the majority of modern Western scholars.

Where I discuss Japanese authors and craftspeople using their full names I follow the Japanese convention of the surname preceding the given name (e.g.: Toda Masako). When iii I otherwise refer to them I use the prescribed method of referring to them by last name only (e.g.: Toda, 1969).

The text of FitzGerald’s Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám is widely referred to as a single poem. Directed by this established mode I apply the word poem and Rubáiyát when referring to the text as an entire object; I use the word rubáiyát in lower case to refer to multiple verses and the word rubá’i to refer to a single verse. When quoting a specificrubá’i , I append the line with a Roman numeral indicating its place in FitzGerald’s First Edition. For example of such: “Wine! Wine! Wine! Red Wine!”(Q.VI), Q.VI indicates the quote originates from the sixth quatrain of the original text. FitzGerald’s First Edition, in its original order, is reproduced for reference in Appendix A. iv ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS どうもありがとうござ いました

No work is accomplished in isolation. Especially not a creative work such as this.

Being situated in the University has given me the opportunity to call on the knowledge of many individuals both within and beyond my faculty.

To my supervisor, Dr Trevor Weekes, and co-supervisor, Dr Anne Llewellyn. go my first thanks. I am in their debt for their guiding, and occasionally checking, hands on the reins when I have had the bit between my teeth. Thank you both for keeping my feet on the path while my mind was chasing rabbits.

Thank you also to:

Stuart McDonald, the UoN Design IT technician, wrangler of scanners, software and calibrator of scanners, printers and laser-cutters.

UoN Design Lecturers: Jane Shadbolt, Michael Dickinson, Caelli Brooker, Roger Quinn and Chris Lawrence for unstintingly sharing their knowledge and constructive opinion.

UoN Printmaking and Sculpture technicians, Sharon Tompkins and Michael Garth, for their assistance and allowing access to equipment.

UoN Environmental and Life Sciences’ Dr Michael Mahony, his son Stephen Mahony, and Rhiona Tindal, for their advice on Hunter Valley frogs and reptiles.

UoN Electron-microscope technician, Mr David Phelan for his assistance and enthusiasm for examining paper structures.

UoN Cultural Archives’ curator Hayley Halliwell and Librarian Lyn Keily for their assistance and enthusiasm in displaying The Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls.

Maitland Regional Art Gallery and the staff for facilitating my 2014 Exhibition, held in their wonderful art space.

Mr Okumura, his assistant Ms Yoshida and Mr Matt Bacskai for their part in finishing the scrolls to such a high standard.

Finally I would like to express my gratitude to my gentleman Robin Fisher, and to my family, for their support over the course of this journey and many others.

The creative work is dedicated to my grandparents: George Bertram Matthews and Lois Muriel Matthews who, through the romantic exchange of a small book long ago, created another footnote in the ongoing “Romance of the Rubáiyát”. v TABLE OF CONTENTS

Statement of Originality

Abstract...... i A note on the Creative Works and Exegesis...... ii A note on Names...... iii Acknowledgements...... iv

Contents...... v List of Figures...... vii Abbreviations...... xii

Introduction...... 1

Chapter One - Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám...... 4 1.1 Personal Connections...... 4 1.2 What is a Rubáiyát...... 6 1.3 Who was Omar Khayyám...... 7 1.4 Who was Edward FitzGerald...... 9 1.5 Edward FitzGerald’s Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám ...... 11 1.6 Common and recent illustrations...... 16 1.7 Recurring elements...... 27

Chapter Two - Key Elements of Influence...... 28 2.1 NHI and The Hunter Valley Region ...... 28 2.2 Australian Artists...... 29 2.3 Other Cultures...... 30 2.4 Alternative Formats...... 38

Chapter Three - Illustration Process...... 42 3.1 Reference collecting...... 43 3.2 Materials and Tools...... 49 3.3 Media techniques...... 61 3.4 Illustrating The Hunter Rubáiyát...... 71

Chapter Four - Annotated illustration content ...... 106 4.1 Persian references...... 106 4.2 Spring-Summer Scroll...... 107 4.3 Autumn-Winter Scroll...... 112 4.4 Woodblock Designs...... 117 4.5 New Themes...... 119

Chapter Five - Exhibitions and Future Directions...... 122 5.1 Exhibitions...... 122 5.2 Future Directions...... 129

Conclusion...... 130

Reference List...... 132 Bibliography...... 140 vi Appendix A - Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám...... A1

Appendix B - Process B.1 - Fieldwork Sites...... A10 B.2 - Sources of specialist art materials:...... A12 B.3 - Okumura’s Studio...... A13 B.4 - Laser Settings...... A18 B.5 - Printing Research...... A20

Appendix C - Referenced Species C.1 - Species List...... A25 C.2 - Third party image references...... A36

Appendix D - Additional materials and format research D.1 - Paper research...... A40 D.2 - Scrolls in the West...... A49

Appendix E - Exhibition E.1 Publicity and reviews...... A50 E.2 Artist biography...... A59

Appendix F - Copyright Permissions F.1 Template Letter...... A59 F.2 Copyright Permissions...... A60

Appendix G - Glossary...... A67 vii LIST OF FIGURES AND ITEMS

Chapter One Figure 1.1 Illustration of QXLIV, Vedder 1884 (Murray, 2009). Figure 1.2 QXI, James 1898 (Martin & Mason, 2007). Figure 1.3 QXI, Dulac 1909 (Menges, 2011). Figure 1.4 QXLVIII, Bull 1913 (Martin & Mason, 2007). Figure 1.5 QXVI, Pogany 1909 (Menges, 2009). Figure 1.6 QXI Wethered 1926 (FitzGerald, 1926). Figure 1.7 Ink illustration, Balfour 1920 (FitzGerald, 2008). Figure 1.8 Balfour 1920 (FitzGerald, 2008). Figure 1.9 QXXXVIII, Pogany 1930 (Martin & Mason, 2007). Figure 1.10 QIII, Sullivan 1939 (Martin & Mason, 2007). Figure 1.11 QXI, Katchadourian 1946 (FitzGerald, 1946). Figure 1.12 QI, Sherriffs 1947 (Martin & Mason, 2007). Figure 1.13 QIII, Badrossama 1999 (Badrossama, 1999). Figure 1.14 QXVI, Puttapipatt 2009 (Puttapipat, 2012). Figure 1.15 Carl Nelson’s caricature 2011 (Nelson 2014).

Chapter Two Figure 2.1 A section of ‘Cloud Forest and Hoopoe’, John Wolseley (2003). Figure 2.2 “Nasturtiums”, Cressida Campbell (2002), Unique woodblock print. (Crayford 2010). Figure 2.3 - Detail of the Persian illumination from the MS Ouseley 140 f2 Reverso (Bodleian Library 2013). Figure 2.4 ”Eitaibashi” Kawase Hasui (1937) (Brown, 2008, p. 109). Figure 2.5 A ukiyo-e style reinterpretation of the Nintendo game “Mario Cart” Henry (2012). Figure 2.6 A Japanese hanging-scroll (left) and a hand-scroll (right) Item 1: Blind-embossed paper.

Chapter Three Figure 3.1.1 Telegraph lines and Farmers shed, Millfield NSW 2012 (Sk1.p59-60). Figure 3.1.2 Live sketching of animals at Blackbutt Reserve (Sk1.p98). Figure 3.1.3 Resurrection plant drawn in studio from collected specimen (Sk3.p6). Figure 3.1.4 Detail of a Golden Cisticola sketched from third party photographs (Sk3p.18-19). Figure 3.1.5 (Left) Sketching from different but similarly beaked species, a Jackie Winter (Microeca fascinans) (Sk3.p22), (Right) Detail from final composition. Figure 3.1.6 Colour palette Experimentation (Sk3.p5). Figure 3.1.7 Kōzo paper response to different methods of applying colour washes (Sk4.p14). Figure 3.1.8 Stencil, stamp and mechanical pattern making experimentation (Sk3.p101). Figure 3.1.9 Exploration of methods for writing in media on the paper surface (Sk2.p93). Figure 3.1.10 Exploring line-work for digitisation using traditional media experimentation (Sk3.p50). viii

Figure 3.1.11 Exploring the appearance of inversed line-work using traditional media (Sk4.76). Figure 3.1.12 Testing printmaking outcomes using letterpress ink on kōzo paper (Sk4.p69). Figure 3.2.1 Four samples of kōzo paper, from the left A, B,C and D. Item 2 Kōzo sample. Figure 3.2.2 Detail pointing out paper surface irregularities in the Winter Scroll. Figure 3.2.3 The Chinese ink stick used for this project, in its storage box. Figure 3.2.4 Lightfastness test of white and gold gel pen (Sk3.p98 ). Figure 3.2.5 : Instances of Gel pen use in the scrolls Figure 3.2.6 Differences between traditional and laser-cut woodblock profiles. Item 3: Experimental printing papers. A: a generic Japanese half-sheet calligraphy practice paper (特選半紙). B : Japanese ‘Moon Palace’ calligraphy paper (月宮殿卷紙). C : Stonehenge paper (300gsm). Fig 3.2.7 Quick Kutz letterpress ink applied by brush, printed on Moon Palace paper (Sk4.p70). Figure 3.2.8 Rubber-based pigment on Magnani paper, detail from the Wasp print. Figure 3.2.9 Windsor& Newton Gouache, detail from ‘Lizard’ print. Figure 3.3.1.1 Detail from my illumination based on the style of a 15th C French Book of Hours (2011). Figure 3.3.1.2 Detail of a Draft Section showing illumination inspired hatching (2013). Figure 3.3.1.3 Paper Test Scroll detail. Item 4. The effect of paint opacity variation on kōzo paper. Figure 3.3.1.4 Detail of final test painting on kōzo paper. Figure 3.3.2.1 Tamam Shud vector image test designs, detail. Figure 3.3.2.2 Tamam Shud laser etched woodblock, detail. Figure 3.3.2.3 Tamam Shud wood block print on Japanese paper (Sk2.p56). Figure 3.3.2.4 Detail from the Tamam Shud print. Figure 3.3.2.5 Raster Bat - Inverted raster image for laser-etching. Figure 3.3.2.6 Raster Bat - Water-based printing ink on Stonehenge paper. Figure 3.3.2.7 An example of dynamic field sketches in ink , Deer in Nara, Japan (2012). Figure 3.3.2.8 Kabuki design - The original pencil sketch (Sk2.p47). Figure 3.3.2.9 Kabuki design - original inked drawing on drafting film (Sk3.p66). Figure 3.3.2.10 Kabuki design - alternative features (Sk3.p65). Figure 3.3.2.11 Kabuki design - Digitised, amended and reversed image ready for etching (detail). Figure 3.3.2.12 Kabuki design - painted woodblock ready to print. Figure 3.3.2.13 Kabuki design - print, gouache on Moon Palace paper. Figure 3.3.2.14 Lizard design test half line-work and half inverted. Figure 3.4.1 Instance of poem rearrangement process (Sk1 p51-52). Figure 3.4.2.1 The initial scroll format exploration. Figure 3.4.2.2 Concept draft images of the Kúza-Náma as a narrative-scroll (Sk8.p7-10). Figure 3.4.2.3 The first seven scenes of the First-Draft Scroll. Figure 3.4.2.5 The end of the First-Draft Scroll. Figure 3.4.2.4 Accordian book concept (Sk1.p2). ix Figure 3.4.2.5 The end of the First-Draft Scroll. Figure 3.4.2.6: Landscape transitions and window frames (Sk1.p23-26). Figure 3.4.2.7 A section of the Second-Draft Scroll, Summer. Figure 3.4.2.8 The first scenes resolved for the final composition (Sk1.p101-106). Figure 3.4.2.9 Final Compositional sketches for the Summer Scroll (Sk2.p13-18). Figure 3.4.2.10 A section of the Third-Draft Scroll, Summer. Figure 3.4.2.11 Initial under-painting of Summer Scroll. Figure 3.4.2.12 Details worked into the lower left flowers using a mixture of gouache and watercolour. Figure 3.4.2.13 beginning detailing on the kingfisher’s head. Figure 3.4.2.14 Further refinement of details on the bird and the willow. Figure 3.4.2.15 The final illustration without calligraphy. Figure 3.4.16 The two semi-patterned backgrounds that appear in the Summer Scroll. Figure 3.4.2.17 The five geometric background patterns that appear in the Winter Scroll. Figure 3.4.3.1 (A) Middle Eastern window inspired scene frame concept (Sk1.p21) & (B) a book-plate self portrait concept (Sk1.p85). Figure 3.4.3.2 The sketch from Sk1.p86 (left) and the resulting print (right) pasted in Sk2.p57. Figure 3.4.3.3 Drafts of the Cockatoo design: Sk1.p87(A), Sk3.43-44 (B) and inked composition (C). Figure 3.4.3.4 Original line-work indicating errors that would be digital removed. Figure 3.4.3.5 Drafts of the Wattle design: Sk1.p88 (A), Sk3.33-34 (B) and inked composition (C). Figure 3.4.3.6 Drafts of the Wasp design: Sk1.p90 (A), Sk3.41-42 (B) and inked composition (C). Figure 3.4.3.7 Wasp design: Watercolour composition over the line-work print. Figure 3.4.3.8.A-D Colour separation compositions. Figure 3.4.3.9 Digital mock ups in greyscale (A), colour (reversed) (B) and a final print example (C). Figure 3.4.3.10 Drafts of the Bat design: Sk1.p89 (A), Sk3.37-38 (B) and raster composition (C). Figure 3.4.3.11 Amended digital design (A) and the final inked composition (B). Figure 3.4.3.12 Drafts of the Lizard design Sk1.p87 (A), Sk3.43-44 (B) and digital composition (C). Figure 3.4.3.13 Original inked line-work of the Lizard design. Figure 3.4.3.14 The final Kúza-Náma Illustration digital compositions. Figure 3.4.3.15 The laser-cutter ready image files. Figure 3.4.3.16 The etched illustration wood blocks. Figure 3.4.3.17 The final coloured prints. Figure 3.4.4.1 My Early Gothic script-based calligraphy (2011), and Insular script-based Calligraphy (2012). Figure 3.4.4.2 Calligraphic nib experimentation (Sk2.p94). Figure 3.4.4.3 Sticky notes and text test compositions ( Sk3.p64). x Figure 3.4.4.4 Calligraphy template in use. Figure 3.4.4.5 A: Summer Scroll (QXI), B-D: Winter Scroll (QLXV)(QLI)(QLXXV). Figure 3.4.4.6 Draft of QLXXV denoting centre of the lines. Figure 3.4.4.7(Left) A Tughra’i style script, Bengal, c. 1480. (A). (Middle) Adapting the Tughra’i style to suit the English alphabet (Sk1.p48)(B). (Right) The calligraphic adaptation in the Winter Scroll (2013)(C). Figure 3.4.4.8 An instance of text cramping due to excess encroachment of illustration. Figure 3.4.4.9. Detail from Tamam Shud print, font: Skia (A) and detail from the first draft of Bat design, font :Myriad Pro (B). Figure 3.4.4.10 Examples of the first digital composition (left) and original traditional media calligraphic type-specimens (right), (Sk4.78). Figure 3.4.4.11 Detail of Sk4.p78-80. Figure 3.4.4.12 Three of the nine finished Script-font compositions.

Chapter Four Figure 4.2.1 Visual References to Rustum and Hatim Tai.

Chapter Five Figure 5.1. Three views of the Maitland exhibition space, A (top), B (centre), C (bottom). Figure 5.2 MRAG ground floor layout (image courtesy of MRAG). Figure 5.3 The Hunter Rubá’iyát Scrolls on display in the University of Newcastle Auchmuty Library. Figure 5.5 Floor Plan of the corridor display area and surrounding spaces. xi APPENDICES FIGURES Appendix B Figure B.1 Map of the Hunter Valley Region. Figure B.3.1 Mr Bacskai (translator), Mr Okumura, and his assistant Ms Yoshida. Figure B.3.2 Misugami backing papers. Figure B.3.3 The three fabric samples recommended by Okumura. Figure B.3.4 Jiki selection. Figure B.3.5 Applying the backing paper. Figure B.3.6 Trimming off the scroll margins and preparting the edging fabric. Figure B.3.7 Adhering the fabric border to the scroll. Figure B.5.1.1 Woodblock painted with gouache (detail). Figure B.5.1.2 This reversed side clearly shows the embossed surface. Figure B.5.1.3 Paper texture of Arches Hot-Pressed. Figure B.5.1.4 Stonehenge and ink texture. Figure B.5.1.5 An instance where the paper adhered to the print block, tearing away the surface. Figure B.5.2.1 Detail showing unwanted printed areas. Figure B.5.2.2 A test print of the Bat block.Figure B.5.2.3 Detail showing the four impression layers and slight mis-registration. Figure B.5.2.4 Semi-opaque blue over other layers. Figure 3.5.3 ‘Sootprints’ created by blind printing the freshly etched block.

Appendix D Figure D.1 Paper making in progress, Mino Ota, Japan 2012. Figure D.1.2.1 Reflex photocopy paper, 100x magnification. Figure D.1.2.2 Reflex photocopy paper, 1500x magnification. Figure D.1.2.3 Cold-pressed watercolour paper, 100x magnification. Figure D.1.2.4 Cold-pressed watercolour paper, 1500x magnification. Figure D.1.2.5 Hot-pressed watercolour paper, 100x magnification. Figure D.1.2.6 Hot-pressed watercolour paper, 1500x magnification. Figure D.1.2.7 Kōzo paper, 100x magnification. Figure D.1.2.8 Kōzo paper, 1500x magnification. Figure D.1.2.9 Gampi paper, 100x magnification. Figure D.1.2.10 Gampi paper, 1500x magnification.

Appendix E Figure E.1.1 ARTAND, issue 51, March 2014. Figure E.1.2 imag March 2014. Figure E.1.4 Maitland City Council media report 28th March 2014. Figure E.1.3 The Hunter Post 12th March 2014. Figure E.1.5 The Maitland Mercury 28th February 2014. Figure E.1.6 The Maitland Mercury 25th April 2014. Figure E .1.7 The external signage for the MRAG exhibition and one mildly elated PhD candidate. xii ABBREVIATIONS

MRAG Maitland Regional Art Gallery NHI Natural History Illustration NHIRLC Natural History Illustration Research Laboratory Collection Q(numeral) Quatrain number from FitzGerald’s first edition Sk#.p# Sketchbook and page number (ie: Sk4.p3 is Sketchbook 4, page 3) UoN University of Newcastle 4 Chapter One - Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám Historical and Cultural Context

“The Moving Finger writes” (QLI)

Since its initial publication in 1889, Edward FitzGerald’s Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám has continued to have a widespread effect on English literature. Many comprehensive books on FitzGerald, his sources, the poem and its influence have been written, and I do not seek to reproduce the knowledge here (Poole, Martin, Mason, van Ruymbeke & Williams, 2011; Martin & Mason, 2009; Gray, 2008; Decker, 1997; Martin, 1985; Terhune, 1947). This chapter offers a condensed history of the work and existing illustrations to establish the historical and cultural contexts that informed my creative work.

1.1 Personal Connections My first introduction to the Rubáiyát was through my mother during early adolescence. At the time I was searching for a way to approach an English essay and my mother suggested that I use the phrase “Who is the Potter pray, and who the pot?” (QLX) as a discussion point upon which to build the essay. I have long since forgotten the subject and purpose of that assignment, however our conversation regarding her interpretation of these verses remains in my memory. At that time I was struck by the enthusiasm that my mother had for this piece of poetry - indeed her regard gave the text a greater value than any literary endorsement could have done.

Some time later, my mother mentioned that she had once intended to rearrange the rubáiyát to illustrate her own version. A seed was sown. Several years later I befriended a sociology student who collected Rubáiyát editions. She too was passionate about the text and commissioned me to illustrate her favourite verse as a gift for a friend. This prompted me to create a second illustration, of a different verse, as a wedding present for yet another friend. In transcribing the individual verses and creating their illustrations, I memorised them. Occasionally, lines from the poem would spring to mind in response to a situation, emotion or scene. All of my early encounters with the Rubáiyát have reinforced my perception of the text as something created to be shared with loved ones and esteemed friends. 5 In early 2012, having already begun working on this creative project, I learned that I had yet more family history involving FitzGerald’s Rubáiyát. During the Second World War my maternal grandfather gave a copy of the poem to my grandmother, whom he was courting at the time. In December 2012, shortly after I had finished composing the under- drawings for this project, my maternal grandmother passed away. The poem took on a new poignancy, emphasising the elements of the Rubáiyát that I had already perceived as especially important: live well and cherish your loved ones while you have the chance.

My interpretation of the Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám has always been essentially optimistic. While my research has made me aware that other scholars and illustrators have read and interpreted the poem with varying emotions and degrees of religious spirituality, I have maintained my view of the text as an atheistic endorsement to celebrate the immediacy of life. I interpret the content of the poem as a reminder that the larger world, with its succession of wonderful, though ephemeral, living things, will endure regardless of any small tragedies that occur to the individual. This interpretation of the text has fed directly into my visual interpretation.

I now have my grandmother’s copy of the Rubáiyát as well as the copy my mother gave me. They are small, cheaply reproduced items but the weight of their history makes them precious. One day I will bestow them on a loved one and that tradition will, I hope, continue. In this way, the Rubáiyát has come to have additional personal symbolism as a tangible representation of the sharing of positive life experiences.

My enthusiasm for the poem and desire to share them has been a major motivating element in initiating this project. I have noticed during conversations with other individuals who know of the Rubáiyát that their introduction to the text has usually been through a family member, a close friend or another person who had left a deep and positive impression on them. The memories associated with their engagement with the text have been personal and precious. I have observed in conversation that my own and younger generations are not familiar with the Rubáiyát, especially when compared to my mother’s and earlier generations. I have wanted to introduce younger people to this beautiful poem and for those individuals, in turn, to share their experiences and engagement with friends and loved ones, as I have.

In addition to engaging an audience that is new to the text I have sought to provide a new visual context for those with an existing familiarity with the poem. I hope to inspire them to engage in dialogues about their existing experience with the text and to create new experiences catalysed by my interpretation. I have not sought to record and compare these experiences: those are personal to the individual and certainly not my field of study. 6 1.2 What is a ‘Rubáiyát’… At its simplest a rubá’i is a small poem that encapsulates a single self-contained thought, opinion or observation. It is much in the same vein as a Greek epigram or Japanese haiku. Rubáiyát, the plural, became locally popular in Persia during the eleventh and twelfth centuries CE, a time of strict religious censorship (Warraq, 2007; Avery & Heath-Stubbs, 1979; Dashtī, 1971). The content of numerous extant rubá’i from this period indicate their popularity as a means for non-conformist intelligentsia to safely express criticism of the religious fanaticism of the day (Avery & Heath-Stubbs, 1979). The safeness of using rubá’i as a form of social commentary has been attributed to its brevity and common use by all levels of society; the style of verse was too short and too common to be perceived as seriously blasphemous or seditious, unlike the longer formulated poems of the royal courts. The shortness of a rubá’i also allowed them to be easily invented, memorised and shared or parodied without the necessity of writing the words down (Martin & Mason, 2011; Avery & Heath-Stubbs, 1979).

In the original Persian state a rubá’i consists of two lines. There is usually a common rhyming structure of a,a,b,a though there are exceptions to this rule (Avery & Heath- Stubbs, 1979; Dashtī, 1971; Terhune, 1947; FitzGerald, 1937). This rhyming format readily transitions into English verse based on the Latin quatrain:

Come fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring, The Winter Garment of Repentance fling: The Bird of Time has but a little way To fly - and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.

The 17th century Persian poet Sa’ib emphasised the importance of the final line of arubá’i in making a powerful and memorable poem, stating that it was this part that “thrusts the fingernail into the heart” of the reader (Avery & Heath-Stubbs, 1979, p. 7). Modern versions either translate the text into blank verse in order to remain truer to the literal content of the rubá’i, or, as with FitzGerald, focus on conveying the gist of the original while retaining the rhyming elements.

In their traditional state each rubá’i is an independent unit with no intended connection to the other poems. It is widely accepted that when presented in Persian anthology rubá’i are arranged alphabetically based on the final rhyming word (Decker, 1997). FitzGerald (1946) notes in his introduction that this made “a strange succession of Grave and Gay” verses (p. XVI). In his own interpretation he chose to rearrange them into “[a] sort of Epicurean Eclogue” that he felt better suited the tastes of his English audience (cited in Martin, 1985, p.203). Later translations with a more scholarly focus, such as those of Edward Heron- Allen (1898) and Peter Avery (1979), returned to the tradition of independent verse. 7 1.3 Who was Omar Khayyám? The historical figure Omar Khayyám lived in 11th century Persia, now a part of modern Iran. Today he is primarily known in the West for his poetry, but Khayyám’s own contemporaries describe him as an outstanding mathematician, philosopher, astronomer and a respected natural scientist. It is not until some fifty years after his death that any reference appears associating him with poetry or referring to his skill as a poet (Dashtī, 1971).

Comparably little is documented about Omar Khayyám’s life. Scrutiny of records contemporary to Khayyám have proven that the majority of what has been popularly known about Omar Khayyám has actually been mis-attributed or entirely invented. Indeed much of what FitzGerald wrote about Omar Khayyám in his various introductions to the Rubáiyát has since been refuted. This includes the famous story of ‘The Three School Friends’ commonly associated with Khayyám and which has since been revealed as a 15th century invention (Decker, 1997; Avery & Heath-Stubbs, 1979; Dashtī, 1971; Elwell-Sutton, 1968; Terhune, 1947).

One of the main sources cited in modern texts discussing Omar Khayyám is the work of the Persian scholar Ali Dashtī (1896-1984). His book, Dami bá Khayyám (A Moment with Khayyám) published in 1965 was translated into English by Lawrence Elwell-Sutton in 1971 under the title of In Search of Omar Khayyám. In this text Dashtī examines documents written about Khayyám by his contemporaries during his life and shortly after his death. To develop a basis for reconstructing Omar Khayyám’s character, Dashtī discusses the political, religious and social strictures that existed in 11th century Persia. He draws attention to several contemporary ‘free-thinkers’ of that era who were less circumspect with their opinions than Khayyám, and were subsequently, and brutally, punished. The character sketch Dashtī presents of Omar Khayyám is of an intelligent, wary and consciously private individual who, while privately decrying the hypocrisy and the limited fundamentalist views of the dominant religion, was cautious enough not to do so publicly. Dashtī applies this sketch of Khayyám to scrutinise the veracity of some two thousand rubáiyát. Rubá’i that could be traced to other authors and those of distinctly different style or personality are identified and discarded. Through this distillation process Dashtī isolates one hundred and two rubá’i that he considers creditably attributable to Khayyám. He asserts that the earliest recorded thirty-six rubá’i that can be considered as unarguably by Khayyám and may have been recorded from memory of spoken word or transcribed from letters and notes after Khayyám’s death. While acknowledging the creative liberties taken in FitzGerald’s interpretation of the original text, Dashtī states that the Victorian writer remained true to the essence of the rubá’i, including the religiously skeptical content (Dashtī, 1971).

Like Omar Khayyám, Dashtī’s Persia was one of stricture and censorship. He himself was a public skeptic of religion and spent time in prison for voicing his beliefs (Warraq, 2001). 8 Dashtī’s work is especially valuable as it provides a bridge between historical and modern Persian perceptions of Omar Khayyám. The majority of sources about Omar Khayyám available in English are those written by Western authors and so are coloured by their cultural heritage. Dashtī by comparison provides a relatively modern Persian interpretation of the rubáiyát and the life of the original author. His writing and observations are informed by the cultural situation of his own Iran as well as the historical Persia of his sources.

As already stated, information about Omar Khayyám is both limited and mixed with invention. The following is a brief outline of his currently accepted personal history. Khayyám is generally agreed to have lived from c.1131-1214, primarily in the Persian cities of Khorassan and Nishapur, during a time of intense political and religious fanatical pietism. The invasion of the Salajuq Turks, shortly before Khayyám’s birth, ended what had been an era of philosophical exchanges, scientific reasoning and free thinking. Khayyám is known to have studied Greek philosophy in a time when foreign concepts were viewed with suspicion by those with religious and political power. Khayyám also claimed as his particular mentor the 11th century Persian polymath Ibn Sinā, known in English as Avicenna (Aminrazavi & Van Brummelen, 2011; Avery & Heath-Stubbs, 1979; Dashtī, 1971). Khayyám’s self professed interest in the teachings of this epicurean philosopher resulted in later Sufi writers, though mentioning his mathematical work with praise, denouncing Khayyám himself for impiety. He was known, in his lifetime, for being concise and logical in discussing his own fields but also evasive and noncommittal in regards to subjects sensitive to those in power (Warraq, 2001; Dashtī, 1971). Prior to FitzGerald’s translation, and the widespread popularisation of the poetry attributed to him, Khayyám was primarily known for his contributions to algebra, logic and astronomy. His work on mathematics continued to be referenced well into the eighteenth century in Europe (Ahmad, 2001; Avery & Heath-Stubbs, 1979; Dashtī, 1971).

Khayyám’s study of logic, combined with an absence of political ambition, a cautious adherence to religious piety and the content of his Rubáiyát has led some scholars to describe him as a skeptic of the excessive religious strictures of the day, an agnostic and possibly even an atheist (Aminrazavi & Van Brummelen, 2011; Decker, 1997; Warraq, 2001; Kasra, 1975; Dashtī, 1971). Other scholars claim that Khayyám was a devout Sufi, and that his poetry is deeply spiritual (Ahmad, 2001; Behtash, 2012; Terhune, 1947). I leave this debate to the historians, theologians and Persian scholars. Khayyám’s reticence to draw attention to his own beliefs, whatever they were, is understandable when viewed in the context of the political upheaval and religious persecution that defined his era. As Dashtī (1971) states: “In this age of religious fanaticism it was safer for a man to stick to his own field” (p. 58). 9 1.4 Who was Edward FitzGerald? The world in which Khayyám lived is inversely reflected in the social climate of his widest known translator, Edward FitzGerald. The Victorian era, in which FitzGerald lived, and subsequent eras since, have seen the expansion of science, logic and free thought countering the stranglehold religion had on the acquisition of knowledge in the West.

The two main biographies that have informed my knowledge of FitzGerald are the widely quoted Alfred McKinley Terhune’s The life of Edward FitzGerald (1947) and Robert Martin’s With Friends Possessed (1985). Where Terhune focuses on FitzGerald’s life in a slightly dry and reverential manner, Martin expands into the interconnecting life events that emotionally and socially affected FitzGerald. In Martin’s work FitzGerald’s foibles as well as his achievements are discussed in a way that presents him as a human being with petty as well as great emotions. Terhune states that FitzGerald was not an atheist but, like many of his peers, someone who had seen the onset of a new and scientific age that conflicted with the established teachings of the church. Terhune maintains that FitzGerald remained true to the Church of England. By comparison Robert Martin describes FitzGerald as far more skeptical of religion than Terhune would allow. This may be to do with a difference in the two biographers’ own religious inclination or social situations which has affected how they have assessed FitzGerald’s views. Both authors draw on FitzGerald’s numerous correspondences to give a detailed description of his life and habits.

Edward FitzGerald (1809-1883) was an Irish-born man of independent means who, throughout his life, dabbled in languages, translation and editing. He is best known for his Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám but also translated a variety of other texts from Persian, Greek, Latin and Spanish (Drury, 2008; Martin, 1985; Terhune, 1947). FitzGerald was a prodigious letter writer and it is through numerous extant letters that much is known of his life, including the writing and continuous revising of his Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám. The recipients of these letters included his friends: Alfred Tennyson, James Spedding, Thomas Carlyle, William Bonham Donne, John Mitchell Kemble, and William Makepeace Thackeray (Drury, 2008; Martin, 1985; Terhune, 1947; Chapman, 1946). FitzGerald was known to edit, by paper and paste, the works of British poets and authors to suit his own literary taste. He cropped and retouched paintings he had purchased as well as re-arranged music (Decker, 1997, pxxi). His own correspondences indicate that he was aware that his ability lay in the editing and improving the work of other people rather than in creating his own (Decker, 2004; Decker, 1997; Martin, 1985).

FitzGerald began studying Persian at the suggestion of a young friend, Edward Cowell. Cowell transcribed copies of both the Manuscript 140 from the Ouseley collection, at the Bodleian Library in Oxford, and the Calcutta Manuscript, from the Bengal Society in India, for FitzGerald (Decker, 1997; Terhune, 1947; Bodleian Library, 2009). Terhune and Martin’s biographies both infer that FitzGerald’s translation of the Rubáiyát assisted him in emotionally weathering the loss of friends and the break up of a bad marriage. 10 In discussing FitzGerald’s Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám the reader will note that I use the term “interpreted” rather than “translated”. It is widely accepted by scholars, and acknowledged by FitzGerald in his own letters, that he took conscious liberties in adapting the Persian text into English. He was not seeking to closely translate the Persian words but rather the spirit with which he felt the text had been written. In a letter to his friend Cowell, FitzGerald voiced his opinion that the work “must live: with a transfusion of one’s own worse Life if one can’t retain the Original’s better [life]. Better a live Sparrow than a stuffed Eagle.” (FitzGerald, cited in Terhune, 1947, p. 223). Prior to working on the Rubáiyát FitzGerald began translating Attar’s religious allegory Mantik-ut-tair (The Bird Parliament or The Conference of the Birds) (Martin 1985). Elements of this long poem have been identified in multiple instances in FitzGerald’s Rubáiyát (Terhune, 1947; Heron- Allen, 1898).

In 1857 FitzGerald sent thirty five of his “less wicked” rubá’i to Fraser’s Magazine in London (FitzGerald cited in Martin, 1985, p 209). The editor of this periodical may have felt the irreligious tone of the verses would not be well received by the public and they were not published (Decker, 1997; Martin, 1985). Eventually the manuscript was requested back and, after adding further quatrain, FitzGerald self-published through the London bookseller Bernard Quarrich in 1859 (Martin, 1985; Terhune, 1947). This publication of his works, FitzGerald informed his friend Cowell, was a means of finalising the project: “[O]ne likes to make an end of the matter by Print” (FitzGerald, cited in Heron-Allen, 1898, p. xxvi). However his subsequent and ongoing amendments that led to five different editions of his Rubáiyát belies this statement, reflecting his continued attachment to the poem.

From this point onward in the exegesis, any reference to rubáiyát refers entirely to those published in FitzGerald’s Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám. 11 1.5 FitzGerald’s Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám

1.5.1 The content FitzGerald describes his Rubáiyát as “A sort of Epicurean Eclogue in a Persian Garden” (FitzGerald cited in Martin, 1985, p. 203). The actual settings vary from garden and wilderness to taverns and desert wastes. Throughout the poem references to wine, grapes and grape vines are frequent, as are endorsements of drinking deeply, and with satisfaction.

The narrative structure FitzGerald used for his poem was the outline of a day: beginning at dawn and ending with moon rise. He describes the Narrator (Omar Khayyám) of the poem as beginning the day sober and contemplative, then becoming intoxicated and blasphemous, before returning to a sober, melancholic and resigned state with nightfall (Decker, 2007; Heron-Allen, 1898). Other themes evident in the poem are the uncertainty of life and fortune, the inevitability of death and an endorsement to enjoy the moment (Drury, 2008; Reynold, 2001; Warraq, 2007; Kasra, 1975).

In addition to the independent quatrain there are eight verses that form a dialogue situated in the final third of the poem. This section is subtitled Kúza-Náma, meaning “The Book of Pots”. The Kúza-Náma describes a conversational narrative between ceramic vessels questioning their purpose and the intent of their creator, the Potter. This is the only truly sequential grouping of rubá’i in the Rubáiyát. Its structure and solidity of image emphasises the uncertainty of existence voiced in these and other rubáiyát.

On the final page of the first edition the wordsTamám “ Shud”, “Tamám” in subsequent editions, concludes the Rubáiyát. This Persian phrase can be translated as “the end has come” and “the end” (Decker 1997, p 254). It is present in all copies of the Rubáiyát I have encountered during my research.

Throughout the Rubáiyát philosophical questions are asked without the offer of answers (Martin & Mason, 2011). This leaves the reader to develop, and meditate on, their own interpretations (Heron-Allen, 1898). It has been suggested by some that this openness to personal interpretation has been a major factor in the long and ongoing popularity of the text (Martin & Mason, 2011; Martin, 1985).

1.5.2 Publication FitzGerald’s small, plain pamphlet-bound book was produced anonymously and with minimal advertising in early 1859 (Decker, 1997; Martin, 1985). Of the two hundred and fifty copies printed, FitzGerald kept forty to distribute among friends. The rest of the tomes were left to be sold by the publisher-bookseller, Bernard Quarrich, who specialised in Oriental books. Only two luke-warm reviews are known to have been made of the text at the time (Decker, 1997; Martin, 1985; Terhune, 1947). As FitzGerald was “obstinately opposed [to] the puffing of his work” through advertising, thus the lack of commercial 12 promotion may have had a part in the books not selling (Decker, 1997, p. xxxiii). Another likely reason is that, in being produced in the same year as Darwin’s publication of The Origin of the Species, a time when scientific observation warred with biblically stated certainties, the agnostic musings of the poem could have seemed too impious for the comfort of Quarrich’s customers (Behtash, 2012; Martin, 1985; Terhune, 1947). The majority of Quarrich’s stock of the Rubáiyát was eventually sold as waste paper with remaining copies reduced to a penny and put in a Bargain-Box (Martin, 1985; Terhune, 1947). It was from here that the artist Dante Gabrielle Rossetti, learning of the poem through a friend in 1861, bought additional copies which he distributed among his peers (Martin, 1985). In this way the text was introduced to a highly influential circle of Victorian creatives and trend-setters.

From this point in time the Rubáiyát became increasingly popular in Britain and abroad, especially in America. Quarrich found himself beset by an increasing demand for the text but without further copies to sell. In 1866 he wrote to request permission to make a second run of the book. FitzGerald, possibly annoyed by the loss of the other copies, demurred for some time (Decker, 1997). There is evidence of copies other than those officially published by Quarrich being produced both in England and abroad during the 1860s. FitzGerald mentions the production of pirated copies of his work in letters to both his friend Cowell and publisher Quarrich. Rather than being indignant FitzGerald opined that this indicated the success of his work (Martin & Mason, 2011).

Finally in 1868, with numerous alterations and additions to the text, FitzGerald provided Quarrich with the manuscript for his Second Edition. FitzGerald’s capitulation to the reprint is suggested to have been heavily influenced by the recent publication of a French translation by J.B. Nicholas in which that author stressed the religious spirituality of Khayyám’s work (Decker, 1997). FitzGerald rewrote the preface in his subsequent editions refuting the religious connotations attributed to the text and further emphasising the epicurean nature of Khayyám’s verses (Martin & Mason, 2011; Decker, 1997; Martin, 1985). The third edition was produced in 1872, the fourth in 1879 and the fifth, posthumously from FitzGerald’s notes, in 1889. By this time the popularity of the Rubáiyát was well established and the Rubáiyát has not been out of print since (Martin & Mason, 2011).

The demand for the first edition and its initial limited availability may be considered to have set a precedent for the perceived collectability of this text. This collectability has continued today with deluxe limited editions of the Rubáiyát being produced by heritage publishers such as The Folio Society (The Folio Society, 2014; Martin & Mason, 2011). 13 1.5.3 Scholar’s views FitzGerald’s interpretation is generally agreed among scholars to be the first to bring Omar Khayyám to the attention of the wider English reading public. As already mentioned, his was not a literal or rigidly scholarly translation but was intended to appeal to a non-specialist audience. His liberal reinterpretation of the text is acknowledged even in his own letters (Terhune, 1947). Despite this, the overall response of the scholars to FitzGerald’s interpretation is positive.

Peter Avery (1979), a Persian scholar frequently referenced in texts discussing the Rubáiyát, describes FitzGerald’s work as more “of a fantasia than a translation” but that FitzGerald’s “poetic intuition” correctly interpreted the underlying message of Khayyám’s rubá’i (p. 42). Avery’s opinion is that, unlike other 19th century scholars of Persian poetry, FitzGerald was not seeking “spiritual solace” in the text (p. 18).

Ali Dashtī, and his translator Elwell-Sutton, also voice approval of FitzGerald’s work in capturing the intent of the original quatrain. Dashtī (1971) in particular states that while FitzGerald took many liberties with the text and had no scholarly knowledge of the original poet “his sensitive spirits absorbed the colour of Khayyám’s thought and out of it created a poetic masterpiece” (p. 170).

The atheistic themes and epicurean hedonism endorsed in FitzGerald’s text are seen by some scholars to misrepresent Khayyám’s spiritual beliefs and poetic intent (Behtash, 2012; Terhune, 1947; Warraq, 2007). One of the earliest negative critics was his friend Cowell, the very man who first introduced FitzGerald to the text (Decker, 1997; Terhune, 1947). However the majority of scholars that discuss the work agree that FitzGerald succeeded in capturing the essence of the original rubáiyát and that, despite his deviation from a pure translation of the original documents, FitzGerald’s work is recognised as having enriched English literature and engaged a new and wide audience. It has also been argued that the fame of FitzGerald’s Rubáiyát in England and America was instrumental in bringing the poetry of Khayyám to the serious attention of his own country (Chapman, 1947).

1.5.4 Popularity and Influence The phrase “The Romance of the Rubáiyát” has been coined to describe the poem’s rise from an anonymous one penny bargain box pamphlet to one of the most widely published books of the 19th and 20th centuries (Aminrazavi & Van Brummelen, 2011; Martin, 1985).

The story of the Rubáiyát has been elevated to a nearly mythic level of popularity through its association with the Pre-Raphaelites and other great literary and artistic names of the Victorian age. The acclaimed literary critic John Ruskin stated of the text that he had never before “read anything so glorious” (cited in Martin & Mason, 2011, p. 111); T.S. Eliot traced his intention to become a poet back to his first reading at age thirteen (Martin & Mason, 2011; Warraq, 2007; Decker, 1997); Ezra Pound was inspired by and emulated it ( Reynolds, 2001; Decker, 1997); W.B. Yeats may have been influenced by the poem and Alfred Tennyson certainly endorsed it (Decker, 1997). Terhune (1947) states that “[t]he Rubáiyát has probably revealed the beauty of lyric poetry to more readers than any other poem in the [English] language” (p. 213). 14 The popularity of the Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám has spanned the wide financial spectrum of the book-buying public. This is reflected in the range of quality in existing copies of the text. The most opulent, gem studded copy, The Great Omar, produced by the exclusive book-binders Sangorski & Sutcliffe, shares the same text as the thousands of limited edition, deluxe, popular trade editions and cheap mass produced paper-backs (Shepherds, n.d.).

Rubáiyát researchers William Martin and Sandra Mason (2011) state that the majority of educated families in the United Kingdom possessed at least one copy of the Rubáiyát during the first half of the 20th century. Through the written dedications in many of these copies it is known that the Rubáiyát was often gifted to loved ones and referred to for solace during difficult times. Extant pocket-sized editions, with handwriting marking particular pages, indicate it was a popular text of English soldiers during the two World Wars.

The popularity of the Rubáiyát has resulted in numerous emulations, parodies and appropriations. This has included satirical quatrains by Rudyard Kipling, and an Australian’s interpretation, published under a pseudonym in Melbourne in 1943, that integrates references to modern science and technology with the philosophies of the original poem (Martin & Mason, 2011; Perdue, 1943).

Quotes from the Rubáiyát continue to infuse modern popular fiction, ranging from the murder mysteries of Dorothy Sayers (1932) to the fantasy worlds of Terry Pratchett (1989). Lines from the Rubáiyát have also been treated with both reverence and irreverence, as indicated by its use. This has ranged from it’s inclusion in speeches by Martin Luther King and Bill Clinton (Martin & Mason, 2011) to its appearance in the childrens’ rhyme:

Spring is sprung the grass is rizz, I wonder where the birdy is Some say the bird is on the wing, but isn’t that absurd, I always thought the wing was on the bird!

Subsequent generations of readers, continuing to the present day, have found appeal in FitzGerald’s work. Reynold Nicholson, a University of Cambridge lecturer in Persian languages, states that the ongoing popularity of the poem results from its relevance in addressing “modern problems, conflicts, doubts and perplexities, in a language coloured by the remote and mysterious charm of a medieval Persia.” (cited in Terhune, 1947, p. 224). Another major factor in the ongoing popularity of the text has been attributed to its association with high quality illustrations and collectible books (Martin & Mason, 2007). Though the popularity of the Rubáiyát was well established before any actual illustrations were produced, approximately fifty percent of existing publications are illustrated (Martin & Mason, 2011, 2007). At least thirty-two new instances of illustration of FitzGerald’s translation have been produced since 1980 with a little under a third of these editions published in Tehran, Iran (Mason, personal communication, 20 August 2013). These Iranian-based publications are generally high quality editions for the tourist market and both locally and internationally-based book-collectors (Martin & Mason, 2011). 15 1.6 Common and recent illustrations Over a hundred and thirty five different illustrators have approached FitzGerald’s Rubáiyát during the one hundred and fifty years since its initial publication (Martin & Mason, 2009, 2007). To examine and discuss the work of all of these illustrators is well outside the scope and intent of this exegesis. In order to give context for the direction and motivation of my visual interpretation I will briefly touch on the most popularly reproduced illustrators, those illustrators that reflect additional styles associated with the Rubáiyát and three recently published illustrators. Many of the artists and illustrators discussed below were prodigious in their published output and unless specifically stated otherwise, I am only discussing their depictions of FitzGerald’s Rubáiyát. Where there are instances in which one artist has worked on the Rubáiyát multiple times the versions are denoted by date.

The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám has inspired generations of illustrators to try their hand at visually representing the poem. Included in these ranks are the prolific and well known creators William Morris, Edward Burne-Jones, Edmund Dulac, William Pogany and Charles Heath Robinson. A number of their works, and the later illustrations of Ronald Balfour and Robert Sherriffs among others, continue to be widely reproduced in books and online, reinforcing the oriental imagery commonly associated with the Rubáiyát.

The first known illustrations of theRubáiyát were not commercially produced. These bespoke objects were crafted under the auspices of William Morris. He personally prepared the calligraphy for three copies of the Rubáiyát as gifts for acquaintances. Two of these contain illuminated illustrations by Charles Fairfax Murray, 1871, and Edward Burne- Jones, 1872 (Braesel, 2004). Morris voiced an intention to publish a printed edition of the poem but the project never eventuated (Braesel, 2004; Elliot, 2000). Though these men were contemporaries of FitzGerald, there is no indication that the author was ever aware of these elaborate reproductions of his work.

Decorated editions were available commercially prior to 1884 but these only contained ornamentation in the form of decorative frontispieces, borders or repeating design motifs. It was not until after FitzGerald’s death in 1883 that the first truly illustrated edition was published (Martin & Mason, 2011; Martin & Mason, 2009; Murray, 2009).

The Rubáiyát’s ongoing association with engaging illustrations has been instrumental in creating the continuing public awareness of the text that has made it “one of the best known poems in the world” (Martin & Mason, 2011, p. vii). Martin and Mason divide the illustrations into three periods: Art Nouveau, Art Deco and Modern. These divisions align to pre-First World War (1884-1914), between the World Wars (1918-1939) and post- Second World War (1945-current time). I have adopted this chronological sequence for my discussion of influential illustrators. 16 1.6.1 Pre-First World War

Pre-First World War illustrations account for some of the most beautiful and universally recognised images associated with the Rubáiyát. All of the illustrations discussed in this section have been reproduced multiple times and by different publishers. They continue to be abundantly available as both second-hand and recently republished editions (as a search of Amazon, Book Depository or any similar online book shop will attest). The particular popularity of exotic and fantasy illustration from this period is suggested as being due, in part, to the drab realities of the Industrial Age (Waldrep, 2010).

The first commercially published illustrated edition of the Rubáiyát was initiated by the American artist Elihu Vedder. His fifty-six graphite drawings, illustrating the entirety of FitzGerald’s third edition, were published in America in 1884. This publication was well advertised and the initial run sold out in the same week as it was launched (Martin & Mason, 2011, 2009; Murray, 2009; Dillenberger, 1979). His work has remained one of the better known and reproduced sets of images associated with the Rubáiyát and is thought to have been particularly instrumental in the ongoing popularity of the text in the United States (Martin & Mason, 2011, 2009).

Vedder’s illustrations reflect a strong Greco-Roman influence. This is unsurprising given that he was living in Rome while working on the project. The monochromatic palette complements the overall sombre tone of Vedder’s interpretation. Even the joyous section of his arrangement holds an underlying current of impermanence. The deaths of two of his children shortly prior to beginning these illustrations had their part in influencing his reading of the poem (Dillenberger, 1979). Vedder’s interpretation draws heavily on Christian and Classical symbolism providing a religious rather than agnostic or atheistic interpretation of the poem.

Vedder is the only illustrator I have identified who rearranged the order of FitzGerald’s verses. He separated them into three themes to reflect the cycle of life beginning with the exuberance of youth, passing to the uncertain despair of the middle-aged and finally the composed resignation of the elderly (Martin & Mason, Figure 1.1 Illustration of QXLIV, 2009; Dillenberger, 1979). Vedder 1884 (Murray, 2009). 17 The second instance of Rubáiyát illustrations came from the hand of Gilbert James in 1898. Although his work is described as being one of the more influential versions, I had not encountered his images prior to my The research for this project (Martin & Mason, 2007). As copyright with the majority of pre-War Rubáiyát illustrators, permission to display James’ work is executed in watercolours. The mood this image could not be of his illustrations is contemplative and sombre, with sourced. men dressed in dark colours while women are brightly, if only partially, clad in an approximation of Persian costume.

The well known illustrators Edmund Dulac and William Figure 1.2 QXI, James 1898 Pogany both produced illustrations of the Rubáiyát (Martin & Mason, 2007). in 1909, a year that commemorated the centennial anniversary of FitzGerald’s birth. The colour palette and romantic composition of these illustrations, along with other Rubáiyát illustrators from this period, Rene Bull (published 1913) and Charles Heath Robinson (published 1928), have become synonymous with the ‘Golden Age of Illustration’ (Peppin, 1975).

Figure 1.3 QXI, Dulac 1909 (Menges, 2011). Figure 1.4 QXLVIII, Bull 1913 (Martin & Mason, 2007).

Dulac, Pogany and Bull were also commissioned to create illustrations for Arabian Nights genre fairy tales. For Dulac and Bull this occurred prior to their work on the Rubáiyát while Pogany’s Arabian-themed illustration work occurred between his first and second interpretations. The artists’ research into Eastern imagery for these other publications would have influenced and informed their Rubáiyát work. Bull’s work was additionally informed by his visiting the Middle East in person (Dalby, 1991). 18 Dulac’s illustrations for Stories from The Arabian Nights (1907), preceded his Rubáiyát by two years (Menges, 2011). My past investigation into historical middle Eastern artwork for other projects highlighted that in both his 1907 and 1909 illustrations Dulac’s depiction of female garments are distinctly Indian rather that Middle Eastern (Figure 1.3). For the average Edwardian reader this is likely to have largely gone unremarked : India, like the Middle East, was suitably foreign and exotic. It is only in the later The Sleeping Beauty and other Fairy Tales (1910) that both genders are portrayed in distinctly Middle Eastern costumes (Menges, 2007, pp. 9-14, 41-50, 55-59; Pepin, 1975, pp. 124, 132).

In Dulac and Bull’s work the human figure is the central focus of the scenes. In comparison, Pogany’s first series of illustrations focus primarily on Middle Eastern architecture and environments. His human figures are small and static, dominated by their surroundings. This compositional device emphasises the helplessness of the individual against time and fate, a sentiment frequently expressed by the poem (Figure 1.5). Pogany’s later versions published in 1930 and 1942, are more in line with the anthropocentric focus of Dulac, Bull and the majority of other Rubáiyát illustrators.

Here, in Australia, it is the pre-First World War period works of Dulac, Pogany and Bull that I have seen most frequently reproduced.

Figure 1.5 QXVI, Pogany 1909 (Menges, 2009). 19 1.6.2 Between and during the wars As might be expected of this relatively short and uncertain period of time only a few instances of new Rubáiyát illustrations were produced during and between the two World Wars (Martin & Mason, 2007). The era of the gift book that had given rise to so many editions was over; many of the smaller printing presses ceased to operate entirely and both printing quality and quantity was affected by paper shortages (Bland, 1958). The style of Rubáiyát illustration from this period reflects this tightening of belts with a preference for monochromatic or limited palettes.

During this period Australian illustrator Ned Wethered produced ten ink drawings to accompany a first edition version of the Rubáiyát. This paperback pamphlet was produced in Sydney in 1926 by Gilmore’s Book Shop. Wethered’s sepia line-work is similar in style to other Australian The editorial illustrations of the time (Rolfe copyright permission 1979). The images contain depictions to display this image of Australian swag-men, shopkeepers could not be and police wearing combinations of sourced. fanciful Persian costume and 1920s’ Australian clothing. The backgrounds are minimalistic but combine Persian skylines, sporting minarets and domed rooftops, with eucalypts and grass trees. Wethered’s decorative borders alter with each image and in the one reproduced here human faces growing as blossoms from plant stems, provide an alternative and intentionally humorous Figure 1.6 QXI Wethered 1926 (FitzGerald, 1926). representation of the brevity of human life (Figure 1.6). There is only a single female figure depicted in all of his ten images, although a lobster (possibly a self portrait) appears in each. Wethered’s images are also unusual in their humorous irreverence. These illustrations are intentionally comic where most other interpretations are solemn, contemplative or melancholic in mood.

One of the most striking sets of illustrations from the inter-war period are those of Ronald Balfour, England. This work, produced in 1930, is the only illustration work attributed to the artist today and little is known of his life (Mickelwait & Peppin, 1984). The influence of the artist Aubrey Beardsley is distinctly visible in his work (Figure 1.7). The influence of Beardsley’s style is also subtly visible in the earlier Rubáiyát line-work illustrations of Doris 20 Palmer in 1921 and Jessie M King in 1903 (Martin & Mason, 2007). The characters in Balfour’s work are a mix of romanticised Middle Eastern, Egyptian and Western fashions reminiscent of the The draped couture of the fashion designer Erté. copyright permission to display Balfour’s work is predominantly black and white this image could not be line-work with an occasional splash of red or sourced. green. There is also a comparatively small number of garish full-colour plates (Figure 1.8). The images are reminiscent of the boldly printed Art Deco posters of the time, with strong and geometric blocks of colour. Balfour’s work is currently in print accompanying a Japanese translation of FitzGerald’s Rubáiyát (FitzGerald, 2008).

Pogany’s second interpretation of the Rubáiyát was created in 1930 after he moved from London to America and has similarities to the richness of Figure 1.7 Ink illustration, Balfour 1920 Balfour’s coloured work (Figure 1.9). The legacy (FitzGerald, 2008). of Pogany’s work on More Arabian Nights (1915) and American movie posters is visible in his second Rubáiyát: humans now dominate the composition, the focus is less hazy and the colours more saturated (Menges, 2009; Martin & Mason, 2007).

The copyright permission to display this image could not be sourced.

(Left) Figure 1.8 Balfour 1920 (FitzGerald, 2008). (Right) Figure 1.9 QXXXVIII, Pogany 1930 (Martin & Mason, 2007). 21 Edmund Sullivan’s 1939 illustrations are noteworthy for their amalgamation of Middle Eastern characters and distinctly Western style of etching and composition. Sullivan’s work is strongly reminiscent of European Renaissance woodcuts and he may have borrowed heavily from the artistic heritage left by Dürer and his peers. Sullivan is one of the few artists to create an image for every single rubá’i. This work is also unusual in that it was published during the second World War. His illustrations are dominated by human activity: drinking, revelling and despairing. Sullivan’s characters are depicted living almost frantically in comparison to the contemplative or posed stillness of pre- War interpretations. Both monochromatic and hand tinted examples of Sullivan’s work exist. In the latter the colourist has often, and unfortunately, used semi-opaque paints that Figure 1.10 QIII, Sullivan 1939 have obscured parts of the line-work; examples (Martin & Mason, 2007). of this treatment can be viewed in Martin & Mason’s The Art of Omar Khayyam (2007).

The other notable edition published during the Second World War is Pogany’s third and final interpretation of the text. This 1942 edition consisted of monochromatic graphite and ink drawings. The majority of these illustrations feature voluptuous and unclothed female figures in theatrical poses. Martin and Mason (2007) suggest that this could have been a ploy by the publishers to increase sales through erotica.

1.6.3 Post-Second World War The artistic and social perception of the Orient has changed during the span of time in which the Rubáiyát has been illustrated. Post-war interpretations have gravitated towards styles based on historical Persian miniatures rather than the fantasy scenes of pre- and inter-War British or American fancy (Martin & Mason, 2007). The list of illustrators has expanded to include those from Asian and Iranian as well as Western backgrounds. Despite the wider pool of cultural backgrounds for the creatives interpreting the poem, the content of these illustrations continue to be set in an idyllic past, frequently reflecting the strong influence of earlier visual interpretations of the text. 22 A key feature of post-war illustrations is the attribution of increased ‘authenticity’ to illustrations that draw directly from the visual culture of Persia. However, it must be recognised that such claims to authenticity are often still coloured by Western perceptions of the Middle East (Martin & Mason, 2007). Examples of this are provided by Edward Heron-Allen’s introduction to a non-FitzGerald translation, in which he endorses the line- work illustrations of Hamzeh Abdulla Kar as “genuinely Eastern” (Corvo 1921, p. xi), and the reproductions of Persian illuminations, ranging in source from the 14th to the 16th century, which accompany Peter Avery’s translation of the Rubáiyát. There are no known extant examples of illustration from Khayyám’s Persia, let alone illustrations that accompanied the original text (Avery & Heath-Stubbs, 1979).

Sarkis Katchadourian is a modern Iranian artist lauded for his ‘authentic’ Middle Eastern style. Katchadourian was born in Iran but received classical art training in Rome, Paris and Munich, before his career restoring The frescoes in India and his illustration of the Rubáiyát for copyright an American publisher (FitzGerald, 1946). His medium permission to display appears to be gouache or watercolour and the colour this image could not be palette would not be out of place amidst the pre-War sourced. works. The content of Katchadourian’s work continues the trend of idyllic garden settings already well established by past illustrators. However his is one of the earliest interpretations that depict Middle Eastern persons rather than Europeans in Persian costume. At the same time, there are European elements to his style of composition and use of perspective when compared Figure 1.11 QXI, Katchadourian 1946 to the style of earlier Persian miniatures. (FitzGerald, 1946).

The 1947 work of Scottish cartoonist Robert Sherriffs, though produced post war, contains many elements of the geometric and richly coloured Art Deco movement. He is noted as having been influenced by the work of Dulac as well as Beardsley (University of Kent, n.d.). The copyright These influences are not readily apparent in the style permission to display he uses for these illustrations. Like Katchadourian, this image Sherriffs’ characters are of Middle Eastern origins. This could not be sourced. is conveyed through their costume, facial features and olive complexions. His illustrations are striking in their dynamic compositions and graphically stylised line-work. Sherriffs worked primarily as a newspaper caricaturist and cartoonist. The flat colours he worked with set his work apart from other interpretations in Figure 1.12 QI, Sherriffs 1947 that, while colourful, they do not attempt to be painterly. (Martin & Mason, 2007). 23 In 1973 Sangorski and Sutcliffe produced a limited edition of the Rubáiyát containing the geometric and completely abstract prints of Susan Allix (Allix, n.d.). I mention this edition because it is the only commercial non-romantic visual interpretation of the poem that I have encountered, though I cannot describe Allix’s work as being “illustrated”.

Since 1980 over thirty illustrators have approached the Rubáiyát, several of these have been produced by small private presses with limited distributions and even more limited online presence (Mason, personal correspondence, August, 2013). Between the 1947 work of Sherriffs and the 1999 illustrations of Badrossamma, who I will discuss shortly, I have not observed any illustrators whose style or content I would describe as noteworthy or influential. Those interpretations that I have seen online, in editions of FitzGerald work, and in Martin and Mason’s The Art of Omar Khayyam (2007) share many similarities in terms of content, illustration style and medium, to the work of the previous eras. Those illustrations that I have been able to access indicate a continuing adherence to the trend of setting the poem in a dreamy, idyllic ‘other place’. This ‘other place’ continues to be predominantly depicted as a fictional and romanticised interpretation of the Middle East by both Iranian and British illustrators, as can be seen below (Figures 1.12 and 1.13).

Though the Rubáiyát has not returned to its pre-War popularity in the West there has been an increasing number of lavishly illustrated editions produced in q, Iran, the location of Omar Khayyám’s grave. Over the last three decades Iranian illustrators have illustrated editions for the book-collector and tourist market (Martin & Mason, 2011). These books are described by Martin and Mason (2009) as continuing the tradition of opulent Edwardian Gift Books.

The illustrations of Iranian Reza Badrossama provide an example of work published in Tehran, Iran. These lavish and highly detailed gouache paintings have been published multiple times in editions that contain both FitzGerald’s and other language translations (Badrossama, 1999).

Badrossama’s illustrations draw on the long history of ornate Persian miniatures. The garments of his figures infer that they are not modern Iranians but the inhabitants of some unspecified period in the past. His colour palette is rich and saturated; flowers, swirling clouds, drapery, and gently smiling women are frequently depicted in his images.

Figure 1.13 QIII, Badrossama 1999 (Badrossama, 1999). 24 London based Thai illustrator Niroot Puttapipat’s watercolour and ink illustrations, produced in 2009, replicate the style of Golden Age Illustrators Edmund Dulac and Arthur Rackham. Puttapipat’s The illustrations were commissioned by a British based copyright heritage publisher, The Folio Society, for a limited permission to display edition commemorating the 150th anniversary of this image could not be the Rubáiyát. A second, less ornate and non-limited sourced. edition containing these illustrations has since been released indicating that these images have been well received by the publisher’s audience (The Folio Society, 2014). Puttapipat’s attention to details of Persian costume are far more accurate than those of his predecessor, Dulac.

The most recently published interpretation that I Figure 1.14 QXVI, Puttapipatt 2009 have identified is Trizha Ko’s 2013 illustrations. This (Puttapipat, 2012). interpretation was produced by a company based in the Philippines and only exists as an e-book (FitzGerald, 2013). Ko’s work approaches the purely ornamental in its simple, uncluttered line-work. The availability of new technology such as e-books provides opportunities for illustrators like Ko to produce interpretations of public domain texts, such as this one, freely. The quality, popularity and longevity of such interpretations remains to be seen.

Unpublished illustrations of the Rubáiyát are less easy to access but do exist. An example of this was the 2009 exhibition in Wales celebrating the 200th and the 150th respective anniversaries of the birth of FitzGerald and the publication of the Rubáiyát. This exhibition called for visual interpretations. I had the good fortune, through my correspondences with Sandra Mason, to view photographs from this exhibition. Two of the entries, both focused on the popular “Here beneath the bough” depict human figures in distinctly modern situations. The first, by Suzanne Jones and reproduced in Martin and Mason (2011), depicts a mohawked man drinking with a woman outside a graffiti scrawled building. Beside them is a packet of crisps in lieu of the bread of the poem. The other is a picnic scene with two human figures, the colour palette and degree of painted detail evokes a sense of Pre-Raphaelite paintings. Mason directly requested the works should not be reproduced, hence their absence in this exegesis. She also remarked that local schools in her area had enthusiastically and actively responded to the “Year of the Rubaiyat”, creating interpretations of the poem that varied from two dimensional media to dance and music (Mason, personal correspondence, August 2013). 25 Another recent and unpublished instance of Rubáiyát illustration is the work of the illustrator Carl Nelson. In 2011 he was privately commissioned to create two illustrations of the text. These images are drawn in a modern and graphic style. (Figure 1.15). The second image, not depicted here, shows the same main character, presumably Omar Khayyám, sitting in a desert drinking from a wine glass with an approaching woman brandishing a bottle and a bunch of flowers. A close scrutiny of the illustration reproduced here reveals elements from multiple rubá’i : a chess board, a book of verse, glasses of wine and the moon shining down on the scene.

Figure 1.15 Carl Nelson’s caricature 2011 (Nelson 2014).

The above examples show that modern interpretations of the text do exist in illustration but are not reflected in a commercially published context. The identification of the reasons behind this circumstance, though interesting, falls outside both my field of research and the scope of this exegesis. 26 1.7 Recurring elements Some similarities in content, theme and art style between the various illustrators’ work is readily apparent from the selection discussed above. As I investigated these and other existing illustrations of the Rubáiyát, three particular features that are shared across most illustrations became apparent. The first is that the overwhelming majority of published illustrations are entirely disconnected from the visual realities of the illustrators’ own worlds. Secondly, the British obsession with a romantic oriental setting has heavily influenced not only the earliest illustrations but has continued to direct both contemporary Western and Middle Eastern Rubáiyát illustrators. Thirdly, that the majority of the illustrations contain, and are usually focused on, human figures. These figures are predominantly of European appearance in pre-War illustrations; and increasingly of Middle Eastern appearance in post-war illustrations. No other cultural groups are depicted. In addition to this, women are often objectified in the illustrations.

Golden Ages, somewhere else… The published illustrations of the Rubáiyát that I have encountered depict idyllic scenes disconnected from both the world and society of the illustrators and their audiences. The actual content of the poem repeatedly calls upon the reader to live in the present moment but this message is not reflected in the accompanying illustrations. There is a distinct preoccupation with the depiction of the romantic (and invented) past which reflects the influence of the Victorian and Pre-Raphaelite preoccupation with medieval scenes and the timelessness of fairy tales and myth (Braesel 2004b).

I have not identified any published depictions ofmodern Persia, the geographical origin of the poem, in association with the Rubáiyát. Nor have I identified any that illustrate other cultures or locations contemporary to the actual illustrators with the partial exception of Wethered’s half-Australian half-pantomime-style Persian illustrations. The lack of modern interpretations provokes the question: why has the Rubáiyát not yet been published with illustrations in a modern context? This is surely partially due to the strongly established and popular imagery already existing for the poetry.

FitzGerald himself recognised the need for classical works to be translated into a format contemporary to modern readers.

“[E]very generation needs its own generation in the poetic style that is most immediate to contemporaries so that classics don’t become museum pieces” (cited in Martin 1985, p172).

This quote was specifically referring to Greek plays but holds true for other genres of translation. Martin (1985) elaborates that a reader best responds to the original or a translation that is contemporary to themselves, and that translations from times between the original and the modern appear outdated as they do not reflect the situation of the first 27 author nor the current audience. This is also true for visual interpretations. Illustrators are translators: they are readers who bring their own personal frame of reference and interpretations to a text to give their audience a new and relevant reading through the medium of image (Oittinen, 2000).

The Romance of the Exotic The Rubáiyát is described as “Exotic without being foreign” by one scholar (Kemode, quoted in Reynolds, 2001, p. 280). This description could also be applied to many of the illustrations that accompany the text. The Persian settings so frequently used in the pre- and inter-War illustrations are ones that were assimilated and interpreted by artists from Western cultures (Martin & Mason, 2007). Only one of these, Rene Bull, is noted as having visited the Middle East at all (Dalby, 1971). Post Second World War illustrations, those of both Western and Iranian artists, continue to reflect the influence of these preceding interpretations in their content, their idyllic settings and exotically dressed human figures.

Anthropocentricity, Eurocentricity and gender stereotyping In the vast majority of Rubáiyát illustrations human figures are the dominant focus of the composition. The earlier of these illustrated figures are Eurocentric while later illustrations have increasingly included people of Middle Eastern appearance. However, I have observed that there are no African, Asian, Native American or Oceanic persons, even in the modern illustrations, with one very minor exception. Amidst the numerous crowd of Caucasians in Vedder’s twenty-seventh illustration, Death’s Review, a small portion of a dark face is just visible in the lower left corner (Murray, 2009). Previous illustrators’ depictions have not been inclusive of peoples other than those of FitzGerald’s or Khayyám’s cultural background.

In addition to the lack of cultural diversity, the majority of the illustrations share a similarity in their representation of female figures. Women are frequently depicted, if shown at all, as scantily clad or undressed; they are often in postures indicating servitude. While the men are depicted in poses of philosophical thought or railing against fate, the women are drawn as passive figures, waiting to beguile with pleasures of the flask and/or the flesh.

All of these anthropocentric interpretations ignore the fact that FitzGerald’s themes of brevity of life and uncertainty of fortune are true for all forms of life and not just humanity.

Further analysing the above trends in the illustrations is beyond the scope of this exegesis. However, my awareness of these limitations had a substantial influence on the decisions I made in developing alternatives to the existing imagery. As my overview of past illustrations indicates, imagery that presents the Rubáiyát as relevant to the wider modern world is long overdue. My creative project draws upon the historical contexts of the poem and then moves beyond them, emphasising the ongoing relevance of the poem’s message of carpe diem. 28 Chapter Two - Key Elements of Influence

“Indeed the Idols I have loved so long” (QLXIX)

The creative project was influenced by an eclectic range of art forms, artists, artisans, cultures, literature and my past research into a wide variety of topics. The focus of this chapter is on the key inspirational elements that have shaped my creative project and directed my methodology.

2.1 NHI and The Hunter Valley Region I have been studying Natural History Illustration (NHI) since 2007. Prior to this, I both studied at, and volunteered time in, environmental institutes that focus on zoology, botany and the observation of ecological cycles. Additionally, as an NHI undergraduate I was encouraged to observe and visually record the natural cycles of the local area. These experiences and my established illustration practice have had a major influence on the content, process and themes within this research project.

My upbringing in the arid zones of Central Australia has also had an influence on my perception and visual interpretation of the relatively lush environs of the Hunter Valley Region; in these landscapes I have found a vegetational mid-way point between the dry scrub-land of my own region and the wet, green pastoral land of FitzGerald’s England.

My existing observations and visual records of the Hunter Valley Region have had a major role in informing and directing my illustrations. Through my past research on individual plants and animals I have developed a familiarity with local habitats, biological cycles, vegetation types and the other species present in each location. The sites I have researched include industrial, semi-urban and agricultural locations as well as native vegetation communities.

There are visual records of the natural history and landscapes of the Hunter Valley Region that extend from the early 19th century to the present day. These include the colonial depictions of Newcastle by Joseph Lycett (Turner, 1997), the entomological illustrations of Ash Island-based Scott Sisters (University of Newcastle, 2011), and the continuing work of students and alumni of the University of Newcastle’s Natural History Illustration degree. I have been aware of this legacy while I engaged with and depicted the region, and recognise that my work continues this local tradition. 29 Coincidentally the lines of the opening quatrain: “The Hunter of the East” (QI) neatly describes the name of the Hunter Valley and its situation on the Eastern coast of Australia. This was a connection that I did not consciously recognise until after the creative project was well underway; it makes the location doubly suitable as a setting for the poem.

See Appendix B.1 - Fieldwork Sites for a map and brief description of each of my fieldwork locations.

2.2 Australian artists The two Australian artists who have had the most direct impact on my research are John Wolseley and Cressida Campbell. Both of these individuals use evocative colour palettes, engaging compositions, and settings that are distinctly Australian.

John Wolseley

Figure 2.1 A section of ‘Cloud Forest and Hoopoe’, John Wolseley (2003). Watercolour and carbonised wood on paper, 15.6 x 76.5cm Courtesy of the artist and Roslyn Oxley9 Gallery, Sydney.

John Wolseley’s rich use of colour and dynamic artwork depicting birds and the Australian landscape has influenced my practice. Wolseley’s work captures the vibrant colours of the Australian landscape without romanticising it. His depictions of Central and South Australia reflect the landscape, biota and colours of my childhood and his sketches emphasise the dynamic nature of his subject through energetic line-work, combining both loose sketches and scientific detail.

His ‘Cloud Forest and Hoopoe’ (Figure 2.1) was influential in my decision to explore elongated formats for my creative work. This image of Wolseley’s accompanies Barry Hill’s poem based on Attar’s ‘Conference of Birds’, a text which is, coincidentally and as briefly mentioned earlier, a Persian manuscript that FitzGerald also translated (Hill & Wolseley, 2011; Martin, 1985). 30 Cressida Campbell

The work of Australian printmaker Cressida Campbell first attracted my attention through its content and composition. Campbell’s still life prints often combine Asian and Western ceramics, contrasting colours and textures in a domestic clutter that makes the exotic elements part of a comfortable whole (Figure 2.2). While I appreciate her imagery it is my investigation of her process that has been of the greatest influence. Figure 2.2 “Nasturtiums”, Cressida Campbell (2002), Unique woodblock print. (Crayford 2010). Campbell’s print-block making techniques involves cutting away the line-work only. The raised area is painted multiple colours and the full-colour print is made in a single impression. This technique, Yiban duose (一板多色) or “one block many colours”, first originated in 17th century China (Barker, 2005). In Campbell’s practice the entire raised surface is hand painted with water-based paints before a single print is made from the block. Campbell’s method of pigment application by brush to the block makes her creative works straddle a line between painting and printmaking. Both her print and the woodblock are displayed as a work of art in its own right (Crayford, 2010).

2.3 Other cultures The three cultures that have directly influenced my creative project are British, Persian and Japanese. The influence of the first two cultures have a direct connection to the history of the Rubáiyát. The Japanese influence, which at first glance appears to be unrelated to the poem, does in fact share several philosophical connections with the themes and aesthetics of the Rubáiyát. Additionally, my long and eclectic interest in the traditional arts, crafts, and culture of Japan has greatly influenced my illustration practice.

2.3.1 Britain My cultural heritage, and that of the countries in which I was raised, has been greatly influenced by European (especially British) literature, aesthetics, and history. Naturally this has influenced my visual language and hence the way in which I have interpreted and illustrated the Rubáiyát. The most readily identifiable sources of direction and inspiration from this cultural heritage are illuminated medieval manuscripts and some specific illustrated children’s books. The former manifests in the creative work as decorative backgrounds, painting techniques and the calligraphic treatments of the text. The latter inspiration has subtly directed my association of specific imagery with particular rubáiyát. 31 Manuscripts My interest in illuminated medieval manuscripts evolved from my interest in later artists, such as William Morris and Pauline Baynes, who draw on historical styles and subject matter to create beautiful and engaging illustrations (Parry, 2013; Thorpe, 2014). Like these artists I have investigated historical illuminations and experimented with creating my own images in that style. The manuscripts I investigated are mainly religious in content and the illuminations enrich the text with additional symbolic representations of the characters and scenes. These are indicated by the inclusion of specific heraldry, costume, colours, animals or plants. In historical instances illumination does not always illustrate the accompanying text but can depict a parable or literary reference that would have been sufficiently familiar to the reader to draw connections between their experience and the content of the manuscript (Hedeman, 2004; Camille, 1992). There is a similarity between this richness of literature-referencing motifs and Japanese seasonal imagery which I discuss shortly. This use of subtle details and literary references for the informed or observant eye is something I delight in and frequently work into my illustrations; The Hunter Rubáiyát has been no exception to this practice.

Children’s literature British children’s literature has influenced my perception of the world from a young age. The two instances with the most direct visual influence on my interpretation of the Rubáiyát have been Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland (1992) and Kenneth Graham’s The Wind in the Willows (1913). The illustrations of J. Tenniel (1865) and E.H. Shepard (1970) respectively are those that I associate with these texts (E.H. Shepard Trust, 2013; Bodleian Library, 2007; Tenniel, 2008). The inclusion of willow branches in the Summer Scroll acknowledges the influence of Graham’s book on my visual language, while my depiction of a flood event in the Winter Scroll that accompanies the lines “Nor all thy Tears wash out a word of It” (QLI) is directly inspired by the pool of tears wept by Alice in Carroll’s story. The British countryside and waterways described in word and image in these and other books shaped my initial perception of England. My childhood environments of arid zone Australia and Africa consist of distinctly different habitats, elevating lush British landscapes to the status of fairy-tale settings equivalent to FitzGerald’s rose filled Persian gardens. Even after visiting England twice I recognise that I still view that country through a lens tinted by the preconceptions established in my youth. This awareness has reinforced my desire to create an interpretation of the Rubáiyát that reflects my own world rather than one of romance or fairytale.

2.3.2 Persia Geometric Patterns The Persian elements depicted in my creative work are limited to geometric patterns. At the outset of this project I investigated Persian miniatures with the intention of creating illustrations that contained a mixture of Australian, European and Persian imagery. As the project evolved I recognised that existing illustrations of the Rubáiyát are already dominated by Persian flavoured interpretations (Martin & Mason 2007). I also have 32 no experience or connection with the culture beyond a few personal investigations into historical illuminated manuscripts. The geometric patterns I have adapted for the scroll were sourced from a variety of decorations from Muslim architecture and Middle Eastern manuscripts. All of these patterns involve star shapes, acknowledging Khayyám’s association with astronomy (Ahmad, 2001; Dasht , 1971). ī

The most ornate Persian pattern that appears in my creative work comes from a manuscript held by the Bodleian Library (MS Ouseley 140). This manuscript contains rubáiyát attributed to Omar Khayyám and is the original source of the transcript from which FitzGerald created his first translations. This manuscript is from Shiraz in Iran, dated to 1460, and forms a part of the Sir William Ouseley collection. A high resolution copy of the full manuscript can be viewed online at the Bodleian Library’s LUNA database (Bodleian Library, 2013; Bodleian Library, 2009).

There is no record that FitzGerald ever saw the delicately illuminated floral and geometric patterns of this document himself and I have discovered no illustrators of the Rubáiyát who have incorporated it into their depictions apart from myself. The back cover of Martin and Mason’s The Art of Omar Khayyam (2007) book does reproduce a simplified and monochromatic version of the full roundel (Figure 2.3). Figure 2.3 - Detail of the Persian illumination from the MS Ouseley 140 f2 Reverso (Bodleian Library 2013). 2.3.3 Japan Traditional Japanese art, crafts and culture have had an immense impact on my creative project. The greater part of this influence is evident in my selection of format, the materials that I have used and the mindset with which I approach and interpret the Rubáiyát. It is also visible in stylistic elements I have applied to my illustrations.

My initial exposure to Japanese culture was through graphic novels. This rapidly evolved into an appreciation of the wide usage of nature-based and seasonally indicative motifs to decorate both utilitarian and ornamental objects. I was also greatly impressed by the high quality of the work that is associated with Japanese craftspeople, and the dedication of the individual to perfecting their craft. (Shirane, 2012; Kawasaki & Szczepanek, 2011; Niu & Sternburg, 2006; Ito, Tanaka & Sessoko, c. 1993; Yanagi, 1989) 33 In order to access images and information not yet translated into English, I began to actively learn the Japanese language in 2006. As a part of this process I have learned a little of the cultural mindsets and stereotypes perpetuated both from within the country and by outsiders. The philosophical mindsets that I discuss below are simplified and are, in part, interpretations that I have developed from my research, my interactions with Japanese craftspeople and my observations during my visits to Japan. I am well aware my knowledge barely brushes the surface of Japanese culture and my focus is on the influence of what I have observed as it affects my creative project.

Aesthetics There are two Japanese aesthetic concepts that directly inform my work on this project. The first reflects themes within the Rubáiyát and some of FitzGerald’s own philosophy. The second is a tenet that I apply in my approach to life.

The first philosophy isWabi Sabi (侘 寂). This is an aesthetic concept; the Japanese can be literally translated to “stillness” or “loneliness” for the first character, and “antiquated elegance” or “patina” for the second (Nelson, 2003, pp. 147, 323; Nakao, 1995, pp. 187, 256). Two of the many facets within the aesthetic of Wabi Sabi are an endorsement to lead a simple and rustic life without ostentation, and the melancholy recognition of the brevity of existence ( Ito, Tanaka & Sessoko, c. 1993; Kamakura & Varley, 1989). This aesthetic parallels several of the dominant themes within the Rubáiyát, predominantly a recognition of the brevity of life and the call to live without pomp, ceremony and social rank. FitzGerald had similar sentiments that are indicated by letters and his early retirement from Victorian society (Martin, 1985; Terhune, 1847). The melancholy aspect of Wabi Sabi does not greatly manifest in my work, which instead celebrates the time remaining rather than counting the minutes passed. However, an awareness of these underlying connections between the concept and FitzGerald’s Rubáiyát were in my thoughts as I crafted The Hunter Rubáiyát.

The second philosophical concept, the one which has most greatly influenced my work, originates from a concept inherent to Japanese Tea Ceremony: Ichi-go ichi-e (一期一 会) which literally means “One time, one meeting” (Kamakura & Varley, 1989). This concept recognises that every encounter occurs but once in a lifetime and that it should be experienced with full attention. A Western equivalent, though without the endorsement to savour the moment, exists in the statement from Heraclitus: that a person cannot cross the same river twice (Graham, 2011). The development of The Hunter Rubáiyát was greatly influenced by my agreement with the concept of Ichi-go ichi-e. In creating my illustrations I sought to engage my audience with a visual experience that not only captures their full attention during the encounter, but would also be savoured as a memory for long afterwards. This was a consideration that fed into my selection of the formats and tactile materials used in the final creative works. 34 Art, craft and design The visual arts and crafts of Japan have an immense influence on my illustration practice. The three frequently used elements of Japanese design that have particularly influenced The Hunter Rubáiyát have been the use of nature-based motifs that invoke seasonal or literal narratives; the sumptuous surface texture of art objects; and the frequent use of dynamic and asymmetrical composition. Additionally the tactile nature of extant Japanese woodblock prints and narrative-scrolls directed my selection of these formats for my creative project. My selection and application of these two formats owe much of their initial development to the historical examples of Japanese items, and Western interpretations of these items, that I observed in Museums, books and online.

Nature inspired motifs

“It is a love of nature followed by keen observation and search for organisation that seems to have made the foundation of nearly all masterpieces of Japanese painting.” (Toda, 1969, p. 6)

My research into Japanese creative artefacts is eclectic. Sources of inspiration range from ceramics, architecture and textiles to lacquer ware, painted screens and printed images. Throughout my investigations I returned repeatedly to artefacts that depict stylistic representations of nature. The Japanese inference of season through the depiction of specific plants, animals and weather phenomena is an aspect of the culture that initially engaged my interest. These nature-based motifs often refer to specific times of year and also to historical Japanese and Chinese literary works. These are visible in both traditional crafts and in commercial products such as advertising and food packaging. Many of the motifs that are now firmly established in Japanese visual culture developed from the court literature of the Heian period. This visual language evolved from idyllic, symbolic and ultimately artificial representations of nature that distilled the essence of the object into representational aesthetic designs (Shirane, 2012).

An example of a frequently used seasonal motif pairs red maple leaves with swirling water. This design not only refers to the season of Autumn but also references a poem by Heian period aristocrat Ariwara Narihara which describes the surface of the Tatsuta river as being brocaded with red leaves (Bull, 1991). For those aware of the underlying history, the simple imagery of leaves and water conjures a specific season, location, situation of a historical individual, and an instance of literature with its associated emotional undercurrents. It is no great leap of imagination to understand why I saw a relevance of this seasonality to illustrating the Rubáiyát with its numerous references to the passage of time and botanical seasonal indicators such as “And this first Summer Month that brings the Rose…” QVIII).

Tactile surfaces My observations of Japanese textiles, lacquer ware, ceramics and paper craft have all 35 played a part in my selection of the materials and presentation of the creative work. The engaging surface textures of the above craft items influenced my decision to make my creative project a tactile experience for the reader. Japanese paper has been especially influential in the production of The Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls as I will discuss further in Section 3.2. In addition to the inherent textural surfaces of the Japanese materials, my investigation and appreciation of the embossed textures created by Japanese woodblock printing inspired my exploration of that process in my creative work.

Composition The asymmetric and graphic compositions of traditional Japanese design directed my composition process. My frequent use of odd rather than even numbers when depicting flowers, birds and other focal objects arises from my observations of the Japanese practice of creating dynamic compositions by avoiding symmetry. I also made use of the visual device of swirling mist, used in Japanese narrative scrolls and screen paintings, for scene division in my own compositions (Watanabe 2011).

Woodblocks The woodblock prints produced during the Edo (1603-1868) and Meiji (1858-1912) periods have been highly influential on my illustration practice both prior to and during this research project (Brown, 2008). My initial investigations focused on the rich botanical and zoological motifs depicted on the kimono and textiles shown in Ukiyo-e prints. As I delved further into the evolution of Japanese prints I gravitated towards the later produced Shin Hanga (New Print) designs. The works of Yoshida Hiroshi (1876-1950), his son Yoshida Tōshi (1911- 1995) and Kawase Hasui (1883-1957) were especially inspiring. The land and townscapes of these artists combine Japanese aesthetics, colour palettes and locations with a Western approach to perspective. Yoshida Hiroshi’s work is especially interesting for his creation of multiple runs of prints that used the same woodblocks but alter the colours to present different times of day (Till, 2007). Kawase’s work is evocative and slightly nostalgic in its depictions of rural and urban Japanese scenes. His work spans a time period that includes the two world wars and documents the changing landscapes of Japan (Brown, 2008). I consulted several of Kawase’s prints, in particular Eitaibashi (1937) (Figure 2.4), in Figure 2.4 ”Eitaibashi” Kawase Hasui (1937) (Brown, composing my depiction of water surfaces. 2008, p. 109). 36 Western adaptations in the ukiyo-e tradition In addition to the historical and Japanese woodblock prints, I have drawn inspiration from several Western artists that have explored Japanese woodblock printing techniques and styles.

The two most influential of these artists are collaborators David Bull and Jed Henry. I discovered Canadian David Bull, founder of Mokuhan printing studio in Tokyo, through his comprehensive website on Japanese-style woodblock printing. Bull makes the documentation of his process and discussions of the technology he uses to create his work freely available on the internet and encourages other artists to explore this medium (Bull 2011, n.d.). Jed Henry is an American illustrator who has created a series of illustrations using Ukiyo-e styles to reinterpret iconic Japanese computer game characters. Henry’s drawings are dynamic, containing both fine detail and humorous twists that encourage the viewer to observe the artwork closely (Figure 2.5).

In 2012 Henry and Bull collaborated to transform the digital designs into woodblock prints produced by traditional methods. The result has been a marriage of old and new content and technology which has created an online revitalised interest in the medium (Henry, 2012). Bull remarks that, over time, Japanese wood block prints have fluctuated in popularity and in quality. Historically, it has been the repurposing of the content to reflect contemporary tastes and interests that has renewed the popularity of Japanese wood- blocks. (Bull & Henry, 2012)

I encountered Henry and Bull’s project after I initiated my own exploration of producing Rubáiyát illustrations using Japanese woodblock techniques and styles. I had already begun exploring using a brush pen to create my illustrations and Henry’s similar method of working in traditional media prior to digitising his line-work reinforced my decision to continue refining this process (Henry, 2012). I discuss my techniques further in Section 3.3.2. Bull’s enthusiasm for woodblock prints, and the beautiful results of his collaboration with Henry, cemented my intention to apply this format to at least a small portion of the Rubáiyát.

Figure 2.5 A ukiyo-e style reinterpretation of the Nintendo game “Mario Cart” Henry (2012). 37 Manuscripts - Emaki Narrative hand-scrolls are the other, older form, of Japanese illustration that has directly influenced the physical structure of my creative project. Scrolls are no longer used in the West for anything but ceremonial and religious scripts (Weston, 2014; Clemens & Graham, 2007; Spiegel, 2004). However, in Japan, scrolls remain in comparatively common use as a vehicle for displaying artwork as well as religious texts (Toda, 1938). Japanese scrolls can be divided into two categories. These are Kakemono (掛け物), a hung object intended to be viewed on the wall, and Makimono (巻物), a rolled object intended to be read section by section as unrolled.

Figure 2.6 A Japanese hanging-scroll (left) and a hand-scroll (right)

Kakemono, wall-scrolls can still be seen displayed in Japanese homes and businesses. They usually display a painting, calligraphy or a combination of the two. Makimono, hand- scrolls, are less common and are predominantly used for religious scriptures and collating precious hand-written letters (Koyano, 1979; Toda, 1938). Emaki (絵巻物), literally “rolled pictures,” are a less common form of hand-scroll that combine text and opulent illustrations. Extant copies include sections of The Tale of Genji, folk-lore and historical narratives (Watanabe, 2011). There are historical instances of emaki, being cut down for use in hanging scrolls. This process isolates the images from their original context, removing the accompanying experience of winding across the extended picture plane (Watanabe, 2011). As Toda Masako (1938) explains: “It is the gradual revelation of what is given in a succession of [the two foot span of exposed surface visible to the reader as they interact with the item] that constitutes the life of a scroll painting.” (p. 5).

Emaki have never been common due to the expense of production (Watanabe 2011). Fortunately there are a number of high resolution digital copies online (The Metropolitan Museum, 2014; The University of Chicago, 2012; Bowdoin College, 2010). The opportunity 38 to look closely at these digital reproductions allowed me to scrutinise their content, composition and the layering of their paint. I was further informed by documentation on their production and conservation (Watanabe, 2011; Belard, 2010; Bowdoin College, 2010; Murase, 1983; Koyano, 1979). These historical emaki are unique, intimate and tactile objects, much as the illuminated psalters were for Medieval European nobility. Both were status items created to be read by wealthy individuals in intimate rather than public spaces. My decision to apply the emaki format to the Rubáiyát was, in part, directed by these associations with wealth, intimacy and literary value.

2.4 Alternative formats The content of existing illustrations of the Rubáiyát is exotic and the format, that of a bound book, prosaic. I inverted this trend by using the alternative and exotic formats of woodblock print and emaki scrolls to present the poem visually set in familiar local environments. The different features of the two formats offered new and engaging ways in which to illustrate the Rubáiyát. Below I elaborate on the key characteristics of the two formats, discuss the limitations I identified in my artisan-skills base while exploring these formats and the ways in which I overcame these limitations.

Woodblock characteristics Hand-printing provides a means of creating multiple instances of an image while retaining an element of the exclusive, original and handmade in each copy. The intentional and accidental variation between each print caused by alterations to paper selection, ink colour, transfer pressure and the gradual wear of the printing blocks reflect the artist’s presence in the production process in a way digital printing cannot. I was inspired to explore this medium by my desire to create and share copies of my Rubáiyát illustrations with multiple individuals, and by the Rubáiyát’s historical association with limited runs and collectors editions (discussed in Section 1.5.2).

Hand-printed images have a subtle three dimensional texture caused by the paper surface being compressed during the printmaking process (Bull 2009). This embossed surface gives an additional tactile element to the paper surface that sets the print apart from digitally printed reproductions. An example of print-embossed paper is provided here as digital reproduction does not convey the texture well. I recommend observing this sample on a low angle and in non-direct light to best see the details.

Item 1: Blind-embossed paper. 39 Sourcing an alternate-to-artisan I recognised from the outset that the skills needed to carve woodblocks with the degree of detail common to my illustrations was beyond my existing ability. To personally develop these skills was also well outside the scope and time frame of my research project. I had, however, previously noted the potential for carving woodblocks using the laser cutter provided by the University of Newcastle School of Design, Communication & IT. My investigations into this tool verified its suitability as a way of overcoming my inexperience in woodcarving without needing to source a crafts-person to carve the blocks on my behalf. My early forays exploring the feasibility of laser-cutter-enabled woodblock printing led from small experimental designs to the development and production of my compositions illustrating the Kúza-Náma from the Rubáiyát (further discussed in Chapter Three).

Scroll format There are three primary characteristics that make the emaki format particularly suitable as a vehicle to present my interpretation of the Rubáiyát. The first is the sense of distance and time conveyed by travelling across the elongated picture plane; The second is the tactile and personal engagement with the art item by the reader; the third is the sense of ceremony involved in viewing emaki. These characteristics were identified while investigating existing scrolls and through my experiments using increasingly elongated panoramic picture planes.

Reading an emaki involves manually travelling across the picture plane in order to reveal new content. There are similarities between this experience and the changing views observable through the windscreen when travelling by car: new landscapes and objects become visible ahead as others roll out of sight behind. The elongated and continuous visual format of emaki made it particularly suited to express the great distances that I associate with the Australian landscape. This distance is one I wanted to convey as a part of my interpretation of the Rubáiyát. There are no shortcuts when reading a scroll, just as there are no shortcuts when travelling overland between distant points or progressing through life. The anticipation of what remains to be revealed is a part of the experience.

The passage of time, a common theme in the Rubáiyát is also conveyed well by this format as, unlike a book, there is no opportunity to flick rapidly forward or backward through the images. The reader has the agency to linger over a section or progress on as they will but, if they intend to read the entire scroll, they must invest both time and attention to the activity.

Reading emaki involves a degree of ceremony that elevates the process beyond the day-to-day. Before the box containing the scrolls are even opened, a clean clear space needs to be found, and hands cleaned or cotton gloves donned. Then the lid is lifted, the scroll removed and unwrapped from its paper or fabric coverings. The cords that hold the scroll closed must be untied, unwound, and only then can the actual viewing of the scroll begin. Reading a scroll requires attention and both hands. The action of simultaneously rolling up the paper with one hand and unrolling with the other is unfamiliar to most and requires a degree of concentration even after practice. 40 The aligning and straightening of the rolled paper to ensure that it sits snug and flat is not a task to be undertaken in haste. New content is revealed through the reader’s interaction with the object. The quantity of fine detail in my scrolls, and also in many of the historical examples that I have observed, encourages close scrutiny and a slow, engaged, progression by the reader. Once read, the scroll must be rewound before the item is packed away, allowing the reader to linger over the images and text a second time. The delayed return of the scrolls to their box (due to rewinding of the cord, wrapping and so forth) gives a sense of closure to the experience.

In addition to the visual and tactile experience provided by my scrolls is the engagement of the reader’s sense of scent. The Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls are stored with a sachet of a fragrant insect repellent. When the first scroll returned from Japan it was shipped with a packet of this substance. The coincidence parallels FitzGerald’s own experience in which a second transcript of verse attributed to Khayyám was sent to him by his friend Cowell contained in a fragrant wooden box (Martin, 1985; Terhune, 1947). The influence of fragrance is referred to multiple times in the poem itself. This incense like aroma adds a nuance that is only noticeable to the reader in close proximity with the Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls.

The experience of reading emaki is unusual in that one directly interacts with the artwork. Works on paper are generally kept away from physical contact with the audience, displayed behind glass or as reproductions. To create an emaki is to produce illustrations with the expectation that they will be handled by readers. I recognise that frequent handling will potentially destroy the objects. There is an appropriateness in accepting this outcome given the Rubáiyát’s frequent allusion to impermanence. My narrative-scrolls are to be savoured, shared and interacted with, for all that this may contribute to their future decay.

Outsourcing to finish The process of mounting scrolls is complex. Toda’s (1969) work on the composition, method and materials involved in making a scroll emphasises the level of artisan experience and skill required to properly craft scrolls. He strongly reiterates that this process should not be undertaken by a novice and requires years of specialist training and experience. Regina Belard’s (2010) documentation of the processes involved in conserving existing scrolls further impressed upon me the opinion that mounting artwork into a scroll format was best left to a professional from that field. Recognising that the size of my planned creative work was already ambitious I investigated acquiring pre-mounted blank scrolls.

My search for premade scrolls was not successful but these investigations led to establishing contact with Mr Okumura, a Nagoya-based professional conservator and mounter of scrolls. Though Okumura predominantly works with kakemono scrolls he was willing to undertake the mounting of my work. In May of 2013 I visited his studio in Itinomiya, Nagoya, to deliver the first of my two scrolls directly into his hands. At this time I selected the fabric and terminal knobs for the finished scrolls. Appendix B.3 - Okumura’s Studio provides photographs and further discussion of this visit. The second scroll was posted to him in October of the same year. 41 My creative work has developed under the influence of an eclectic mix of art styles, crafts, literature, foreign and local cultures, philosophies and the work of a few particular artists. These influences informed the content, style and formats of my creative work. In exploring and selecting the formats for illustrating the Rubáiyát I have identified and overcome limitations in my own creative skills base. This has involved the use of alternative technology and a collaboration with another artisan. The many processes involved in transmuting inspiration into the completed illustrations is documented and explored in the next chapter. 42 Chapter Three - Creating the Illustrations

“With them the seed of Wisdom did I sow, And with my own hand labour’d it to grow” (QXXVIII)

From the outset I intended that my visual interpretation of the Rubáiyát would reflect the world with which I was familiar and that challenged my existing illustration skills. This chapter describes the various processes used to develop The Hunter Rubáiyát, from the first concept sketches to producing the final illustrations.

Images reproduced from both my preliminary research and the final creative works are depicted and referred to throughout this chapter. The majority of the images are limited details of larger artworks. High resolution copies of the full images can be found on the accompanying Image Appendices DVD. Most of these images are sourced from the four sketchbooks that contain the dominant part of my preliminary research for the creative work. The sketchbooks contain the accumulated reference drawings, experimentation with materials and colour notations developed during the creative process. They also show the evolution of ideas from early concept sketches to the final compositions, and include both field and studio work.

The content of the four sketchbooks is summarised briefly and chronologically below. The content of each of these books can be viewed on the Image Appendices DVD.

Sketchbook 1 (1st March 2012 -29th July 2012) contains the initial concept sketches for The Hunter Rubáiyát. This book contains the drawings from my main field trips and the first studio sketches of specimens that I considered for the scrolls. This sketchbook also includes experimentation with Persian geometric designs and potential early colour palettes.

Sketchbook 2 (29th July 2012-12th January 2013) contains the final sketched compositions for the scrolls. The first forty-four pages of the sketchbook are dedicated to this content. Following this are the reference sketches that further informed those compositions. The latter part of this sketchbook records colour tests and pigment notations from the painting of the Summer Scroll.

Sketchbook 3 (29th July 2012-26th - June 2013) focuses primarily on the development of the woodblock designs. It also contains further reference sketches for the scroll compositions, colour tests that accompanied the painting process of both scrolls and the development of the script for the Summer Scroll.

Sketchbook 4 (June 11th 2013- February 2014) begins with the final colour swatches for the Winter Scroll. This includes the development of the scroll calligraphy into a digital script-font for use in the woodblocks. This final sketchbook also contains printouts of the script-font and colour swatches from my print making experiments. 43 3.1 Reference Collecting My NHI methodology for reference collection and image composition is cyclic, in that it iterates both field and studio work phases to develop the final creative work. In the field I collect visual resources that are then developed and explored in the studio. My studio work in turn identifies the need for additional or alternate reference images, which directs the next stage of fieldwork. Experiences in the field also suggest potential visual content to be explored and composed in studio. The visual resources and observations I collected as an NHI undergraduate have informed this research project and, along with my existing investigations of the Hunter Valley Region, have provided the foundation upon which the rest of my research has been built.

3.1.1 Fieldwork Fieldwork was a vital part of my illustration practice for this project. Through engaging with the various environments I observed first hand the presence or absence of species, the seasonal variation in vegetation, and the ecological relationships between the biota and their surroundings. The information gathered during these excursions furthered my familiarity with the regions’ habitats, provided visual references and suggested alternative content for the creative work. The references collected for this creative project included photography, field sketching, and where suitable the collection of botanical specimens.

Field photography provided a useful tool for species identification and as a reference to inform drawings. This form of reference was particularly useful in situations where there was no time to draw details or when the climate discouraged prolonged sketching.

Figure 3.1.1 : Telegraph lines and Farmers shed, Millfield NSW 2012 (Sk1.p59-60).

However, a limitation of this medium is that the depth, sense of scale or context of the specimen can be easily lost or misrepresented. Where possible I used photography as a tool to augment rather than replace sketching. However some instances in the final work, such as the Pittosporum fruit of the Winter Scroll, relied entirely on photographic references. These photographs were supported by my past direct observations of specimens in the field. 44

Figure 3.1.2 Live sketching of animals at Blackbutt Reserve (Sk1.p98). Observational sketching in the field provided more than just a static visual record of specimens. By sketching live specimens in the field, or in captivity, I had the opportunity to also observe nuances of the animal’s appearance, colour variation, movement and behaviour. The resulting gestural line-work such as that shown in Figure 3.1.2, and my observations were later combined and refined in-studio. For plant specimens, field- sketching provided a holistic awareness of the habit (physical appearance) of the plant in a way that sketching from a cutting or photograph in-studio cannot. The colour notations in these sketches provided a record of nuances that could not be captured by photography. It is well known within my field that colours recorded in photographs often varied greatly from those actually observed, especially in regards to purples and blues, and that collected specimens fade and/or wilt, changing colour over time.

The time spent drawing in the field resulted in both a tangible visual depiction of objects and scenes, and an intangible experience absorbed during the process of observing and recording. The latter is an intrinsic part of my fieldwork practice and, while not often mentioned on paper, has had an important role in my illustration process. The act of being present in a habitat, listening, watching and engaging with the landscape provides a tacit awareness of place that enriches the final illustrations. Chance observations that occurred during the act of drawing: e.g.: insect interactions with a floral specimen, also led to a greater familiarity with the local ecology which I then integrated into my compositions. 45 3.1.2 Studio work

My preliminary studio practice involved drawing from mounted specimens and photographs, experimenting with media and developing the illustration compositions.

Figure 3.1.3 Resurrection plant drawn in studio from collected specimen (Sk3.p6).

Where possible I worked directly from specimens. In the studio these tended to be taxidermied animals or freshly-picked plants. Most of the native plant specimens drawn in-studio were sourced from the University of Newcastle campus or nearby area (Figure 3.1.3). The process of drawing animals from taxidermied specimens allowed a close and prolonged scrutiny of the structure of the creature. However a drawback of this type of reference was the lack of life and movement. The usefulness of these references also relied heavily on the skill of the original taxidermist and the condition of the specimens. Some of the older specimens were very faded and the soft tissues greatly altered from that of a living animal (examples of which are eyelids, paw pads, snouts and the fleshy part of beaks). I was also aware that poorly mounted or damaged specimens could be very misleading. I overcame these issues by visually cross-referencing my sketches with live animals and/or photographs.

Over time, I have collated a sizeable collection of my own photographic references of the species and habitats present in the Hunter Valley Region. This was a valuable resource which I frequently referred to and expanded over the course of my research project. In situations where I did not have personal references for a specimen, I sketched from multiple third party photographs. This allowed me to develop an understanding of the plant or animal before creating my own original depiction. These third party sources are referenced directly on the relevant sketchbook page and also listed in Appendix C.2 -Third Party References.

I frequently combined multiple drawings and photographic instances to inform a single image. An example of this is demonstrated by the evolution of my Golden-headed Cisticola illustration. I did not have any personal references for this species nor access to either live or taxidermied specimens. To overcome this limitation I developed my understanding 46

Figure 3.1.4 Detail of a Golden Cisticola sketched from third party photographs (Sk3p.18-19). of the structure, plumage and general attitude of the bird by sketching from third party photographs (Figure 3.1.4). As my composition involved depicting the birds head at an angle for which I had no direct visual references, I made use of a taxidermied Jackie Winter, a bird with a similar physical size and beak structure, to extrapolate the Cisticola’s beak structure. By observing this specimen in three dimensions and sketching its beak from a variety of angles I was then able to depict the under-side of the Cisticola’s beak and throat to compose the final illustration Figure( 3.1.5

Figure 3.1.5 (Left) Sketching from different but similarly beaked species, a Jackie Winter (Microeca fascinans) (Sk3.p22), (Right) Detail from final composition.

Experimentation with different media was a major part of my studio practice. Below I give four visual examples of media experimentation that were later applied to the scrolls and another three that were applied to the woodblocks. These examples give some idea of the variations of media experimentation undertaken during my creative process and which will be briefly discussed later in this chapter. 47

Figure 3.1.6 Colour palette Experimentation (Sk3.p5).

Figure 3.1.7 Kōzo paper response to different methods of applying colour washes (Sk4.p14).

Figure 3.1.8 Stencil, stamp and mechanical pattern making experimentation (Sk3.p101).

Figure 3.1.9 Exploration of methods for writing in media on the paper surface (Sk2.p93). 48

Figure 3.1.10 Exploring line-work for digitisation using traditional media experimentation (Sk3.p50).

Figure 3.1.11 Exploring the appearance of inversed line-work using traditional media (Sk4.76).

Figure 3.1.12 Testing printmaking outcomes using letterpress ink on kōzo paper (Sk4.p69). 49 3.2 Materials and Tools The investigation, and selection of materials was an important part of the research leading to the final creative objects. In this section I discuss the materials used in my creative project in three parts. I begin with the process of selecting suitable paper for The Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls, the characteristics of that paper and of the paints I used for these illustrations. Next I focus on the tools, followed by the materials used to produce the Kúza-Náma Woodblocks. Finally, I briefly discuss my findings on the various papers, paints and inks that I explored while making the Kúza-Náma Prints.

3.2.1 Scrolls The scroll format dictated my selection of substrate and, subsequently, what media could be considered for that part of the creative project. These decisions were made based on my research into the materials used for existing emaki, advice from professionals working with these materials, and my existing experiences with art materials.

The working surface The substrate for my hand-scroll needed to be both flexible and durable while providing a surface suitable for illustration. The material also had to be able to resist the stresses involved in both the process of painting the imagery and the multiple instances of rolling and unrolling involved in viewing the artworks.

To inform my selection of a surface I first investigated those traditionally used in Chinese and Japanese scrolls. These scrolls are constructed from paper or silk though, historically, silk has proven to be less durable than paper over time (Toda, 1969). As I had no experience with painting on silk and was not interested in developing this skill I chose not to experiment with it as a potential working surface. Instead I explored a variety of paper types to identify what would best suit my purposes. I also investigated the differences between Western and Japanese paper to expand on my tacit knowledge of the available papers. My summary of the differences between Western and traditionally made Japanese paper, and how their historical use has led to the particular and distinctly different characteristics associated with these papers, can be found in Appendix D.1 - Paper Research. This research informed my decision to focus solely on experimenting with Japanese paper types.

Locally available Japanese paper was limited to four varieties specifically stocked for printmaking. Experimentation with these demonstrated that the Japanese handmade papers accepted the rolling and unrolling process far more readily than the available Western papers. Of the locally available Japanese papers I deemed only one potentially suitable for the project. The chirigami paper was robust and suffered only minor buckling when washes of paint were applied. Furthermore, this paper readily flattened again after rolling. However, further research revealed that chirigami is considered a poorer grade of paper (Ikegami, 2007). The reference texts did not comment on the acidity and longevity of this paper. 50 I was informed by Asian-art conservator Andrew Thompson that, in his experience, gampi paper was used in historical scrolls, but was difficult to work with and prone to stretching (personal communication, 8 August, 2012). He recommended “Masumi Corporation”, a Tokyo-based paper company, as a potential supplier. I sourced samples of various papers, gampi and otherwise, from both “Masumi Corporation” and “Hiromi Paper Inc.”, an American importer of Japanese papers. This resulted in my acquisition of over fifty samples of Japanese paper varieties, more than half of which were gampi. These provided an idea of the substantial range of weights, colours, textures and paper durabilities available (Hiromi, 2012).

Further investigation of the processes involved in making hand scrolls led to me making contact with Mr Okumura, a Nagoya-based professional scroll-mounter. He recommended kōzo (mulberry paper) and provided me with four paper samples. I briefly experimented with each paper type, exploring the differences in their characteristics (Figure 3.2.1). It was from these samples that I made my final selection.

Figure 3.2.1 Four samples of kōzo paper, from the left A, B,C and D.

Sample ‘B’ from the image above was the one chosen for The Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls. A piece of this paper is provided here to give an example of the weight and texture of the working surface (Item 2). This is an ivory rather than white paper and has a subtly lustrous surface.

Characteristics of the selected paper The translucency of the kōzo paper selected for the scroll is evident in the sample. A benefit of this feature is the ability to trace the compositional sketch directly onto the final working surface. My initial concern that pencil would damage the paper’s fibrous surface was put to rest during early experimentation. The translucency of this paper did lighten the colour of translucent paints applied to it, making it harder to produced very dark colours such as the night sky of the nocturnal scenes.

Item 2 Kōzo sample. 51 The tint of the kōzo gives the impression of the paper being aged. This suited the aesthetic I envisioned for the scrolls better than a bright white paper. The tint of the paper provided a warm underlying tone that affected any translucent paint used on the surface, slightly darkening them and dulling cool colours.

The lustre of the kōzo was highly influential in my decision to use this particular paper. This lustre is similar to that of the surface of a silk-moth cocoon and, when painted with a translucent wash of paint, makes the colour glow richly. When painted with an opaque colour the lustre is masked and the fibrous texture of the surface is emphasised.

Kōzo is highly absorbent when compared to Western art papers. The paper I selected was the least absorbent of Okumura’s four samples. Washes of paint laid on this surface spread well beyond the edge of the brush marks.

The kōzo I used had minor irregularities and inclusions in the surface. These, where they had any impact on my work, added to the tactile nature of the illustration surface. In these cases I had to accept and relinquish some control over the image, integrating any ‘faults’ in the paper into the illustration. The main form of inclusion were small spots that resisted the paint (examples of this are indicated in Figure 3.2.2) and, occasionally a small wisp of the fibre being thicker and more visible than the rest of the surface. Neither of these irregularities detracted from the illustrations.

Figure 3.2.2 Detail pointing out paper surface irregularities in the Winter Scroll.

Working with kōzo The length of paper required for my scrolls exceeded the available dimensions of the paper. I connected multiple sheets together to create the full working surface. The original sheet size of kōzo sourced for the scrolls was 38x24”. Each of my scrolls consists of three widths of paper which were temporarily connected by a two millimetre overlap using carboxymethyl- cellulose paste as adhesive. This adhesive was recommended as a temporary binder due to its weak adhesion, reversibility and neutral pH. This form of paste is less palatable to insects than vegetable or animal-based adhesives (Ikegami, 2007). The methyl-cellulose did have a tendency to unstick when large washes were applied over the overlap between sheets of paper. If the edges maintained contact until the paper was dry again they re-adhered. These overlapping edges were later parted, trimmed and realigned during the mounting process (see Appendix B.3 - Okumura’s Studio). 52 Kōzo paper has a surface different from any I had worked on before and it challenged my adaptability as an artist. Prior to this my illustration work was done on Western art papers. From past experience I was aware that these papers resist initially being kept in a tight roll and tend to retain a curl when one attempts to flattened the paper out again. This is especially true of the heavier weight papers which can also crease during the rolling process. In comparison, my experience with Japanese papers has shown they both readily roll and flatten again. The anecdotal information I had, that this flexibility was due to the shape of the paper fibres and lack of paper fillers, was verified by using the University of Newcastle’s Electron Microscope. I discuss these observations, with photographs, further in Appendix D.1.2 - A closer look at paper.

The paper used for the scroll did not respond to water saturation the way I had expected from past observation of wet-paper behaviour. Wetting the surface of Western-made papers usually results in a phenomenon known as buckling or cockling. This is caused by uneven stretching and shrinkage across the paper surface due to variation in moisture and drying time. In my experience paper cockling can be countered by: using a heavier weight of paper; using drier washes of paint; avoiding painting large areas at one time; and/or by pre-stretching the paper.

When I consulted my sources for information on how to avoid cockling in Japanese paper, I was given varying advice depending on the fibre origin of the paper. Thompson informed me that gampi is highly prone to shrinkage and should be pre-stretched several times before use (personal communication, 8 August, 2012). In comparison, Okumura said that any minor buckling that occurred to kōzo paper during painting would be flattened during the mounting process (personal communication, 22 August, 2012). Over the course of working on the scrolls, in which I used frequent and heavy washes of paint, I found the degree of cockling to be negligible and the final mounting process by Mr Okumura completely flattened the paper as promised.

Paint To paint the scrolls I used watercolour, gouache, carbon-based ink, gel pen and powdered mica. These, with the exception of the powdered mica, are all materials with which I had prior experience. My selection was based on my knowledge of their behaviours and their suitability for working on the chosen paper.

Watercolours The watercolours used were Windsor & Newton Cotmans (student quality), Windsor & Newton Artists (professional quality) and Schminke. I used a combination of both tube and pan paints. I have worked with this selection of paints for more than eight years and was familiar with the characteristics of the different colours and their behaviour on Western paper. I used this existing knowledge to adapt to the different characteristics of the Japanese paper. The translucency of watercolours worked well with the lustrous paper surface and created interesting drying patterns when laid down in washes. 53 Gouache The gouache used for this project was Windsor & Newton Designer Gouache. This paint is characterised by its opacity and water solubility. When multiple colours are applied wet- into-wet they can be blended with an enamel-like smoothness. In my experience with this medium the application of a single thick layer can result in the paint crumbling or flaking away from the surface, especially if the paper is flexed. Multiple thin layers have proven to have a greater flexibility and are less prone to dislodgement. Based on my existing observations of this medium, I also added a small quantity of Gum Arabic to colours that tended to be powdery or to crack when dry.

The adhesion of the gouache was also greatly assisted by the absorbency of the kōzo working surface. When dry, the gouache-painted kōzo proved far less absorbent than sections painted with watercolour; this led me to adopt the method of gouache-priming areas of The Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls intended for calligraphy. The degree of ink-bleed visible between writing on unprimed and gouache-primed kōzo was significant (see Figure 3.1.9).

Traditionally gouache is used as an opaque medium, however, I experimented with using it at different levels of dilution. These ranged from consistencies similar to a thin watercolour wash through to entirely opaque, undiluted paints. I observed that a diluted wash of gouache coated the fibres on the paper surface and, in doing so, partially masked the tint of the paper, obscured the surface lustre and emphasised the paper’s matte surface. This effect was especially visible when paler or cool colours of gouache were applied. In comparison, watercolours were strongly influenced by the underlying warm ivory colour of the paper.

Chinese Ink This material primarily consists of finely powdered carbon obtained from soot (Hunter, 1974). Fresh ink is made by gently grinding the ink stick on a special flat stone until the desired consistency is achieved. This is often used in East Asian calligraphic practices and I have found it to be a meditative way to prepare myself for the painting process.

I have produced black ink by this method for several years now. My initial adoption of using ink sticks was influenced by the memory of the ink-stick my mother bought during her own travels in Japan before I was born. This precious item was a part of her treasure-box which, as a child, I was occasionally allowed to investigate. Her ink-stick was embossed with little human figures travelling through a pine forest. Over time this unused ink-stick dried out and shattered into small fragments. I believe that ink-sticks, and similar items created for a purpose, should be used despite the potential destruction of the object. A motivating purpose in creating the scrolls was to create a work of art intended to be handled. My decision to use hand ground ink feeds into this philosophy. 54 There was an additional aesthetic reason for using this specific black ink rather than the readily available pre-mixed varieties. The majority of pure black that I use in the scrolls appears in the sections depicting aspects of the coal industry. In using a soot-based (carbon) ink the image shares the main chemical element of the coal it depicts.

On a more practical note, by using Chinese ink rather than an acrylic, the paper remains absorbent. An acrylic ink would seal and stiffen the fibres, potentially preventing the even expansion and contraction of the paper. As mounting the scrolls required the paper to be damped and stretched it was vital that the ink did not hinder this process.

Figure 3.2.3 The Chinese ink stick used for this project, in its storage box.

Mica The silvery lustre visible in some sections of the scroll is powdered mica. The use of this mineral was inspired by Japanese woodblocks and decorative screens that use Gofun (powdered oyster shell) to emphasise whiteness (Kanada, 1989). I initially sourced and experimented with mica for the Kúza-Náma Prints. As the compositions developed however, pearlescence ceased to have a place in those designs. Instead I used it in the scrolls for the clouds of nocturnal scenes, the mist and foaming water to provide an additional sense of opulence. This silvery powder provides a cool-tone equivalent to the gold gouache used in the diurnal scenes.

To apply the mica I painted two layers of Gum Arabic into the intended area. These were left until no longer shiny-wet and were then dusted with mica. When the Gum Arabic had dried the surplus powder was dusted off with a soft bristled paintbrush or a feather in a well-ventilated area.

Gel pens are a comparatively new form of writing medium. Their archival quality over the long term (more than fifty years) remains to be observed. I performed light-fastness testing of the two pens to be used in the scrolls. The two pens were Uniball Siganotm in white and a cool-tone gold. I exposed samples of these two pigments, drawn over ink and watercolour washes, to full sun for three months to observe what degree of fade or disintegration occurred. The white pen showed no alteration. The yellow in the gold pen faded away, leaving a cool-tone silver that otherwise appeared stable. I chose to use the gold pen with the knowledge that it will potentially fade to silver over time. Aesthetically 55 either colour is suitable where I have used it in the illustration. My decision to use this pen, despite the potential colour loss, was a conscious acknowledgement of the paints of medieval manuscripts. Some of these have vastly changed colour over time, in other cases the chemicals in the paint have eaten entirely through the vellum page upon which they were been painted (Bernard, 2012; Clemens & Graham, 2007). The consistent line width provided by the gel pens worked well on the kōzo surface. The

Figure 3.2.4 Lightfastness test of white and gold gel pen (Sk3.p98 ). white gel pen also produced a slightly resistant effect on the surface similar to that of gouache (Figure 3.2.4).

Figure 3.2.5 : Instances of Gel pen use in the scrolls. 56 3.2.2 Woodblock tools and materials

My investigation of woodblock printing included the identification and application of both tools and materials. Those discussed below were used specifically to produce the woodblocks. The materials used for creating prints from these blocks are discussed separately in Section 3.2.3.

Tools: The University of Newcastle’s School of Design, Communication & I.T.’s Epilog Legend 36EXT Laser-cutter was the tool that enabled this part of the creative project. This equipment allows the etching and cutting of non-metallic surfaces including paper, perspex, wood and glass. Etching involves the machine vaporising the surface of the substrate in a fine grid pattern of dots similar in appearance to a dot matrix printer but at far higher resolution. Cutting, as the word suggests, involves the laser slicing through the surface as would be done with a blade. The depth of the etched surface can be varied by the intensity and speed of the laser, or by multiple passes repeating the design. In early 2012 I used this device both to etch and cut perspex for an unrelated project. The resulting etching on that work suggested the viability of this tool for creating printmaking surfaces. Further experimentation, which is discussed in section 3.3.2, verified this observation.

The laser-cut printing surfaces are not as structurally robust as those created using traditional methods of woodblock carving. A major structural difference between laser and hand-carved woodblocks is visible below (Figure 3.2.6). The profile of the laser-cut printing surface is completely vertical while the printing surface of a hand-carved woodblock is cut with a twenty-five to thirty-five degree diagonal profile; this strengthens the raised surface and reduces the chance of the cut edge chipping away. During my experimentation I found that the weaker vertical profile was not an issue except in two cases. One of these was on a cherry wood block that had been etched excessively deeply, and the other was on Western Cedar, an experimental substrate that proved to be distinctly brittle. Both of these resulted in small, freestanding details on the carved surfaces breaking away

Figure 3.2.6 Differences between traditional and laser-cut woodblock profiles.

I used two familiar graphics programs, Adobe Illustratortm and Adobe Photoshoptm, to explore and compare laser-cutting vector and raster-based illustrations. I also used a graphics tablet to facilitate a natural drawing style rather than using a computer mouse. The final illustration was made using a combination of these programs and traditional media. 57 A simple cartridge-fed Japanese brush-pen, in conjunction with the devices above, provided the final line-work for my woodblock illustrations. After exploring the possibilities of producing illustrations by using a graphic program, I found that the analogue tool provided a greater variation in width and energetic of the drawn lines. The cartridge fed nature of this tool ensured that there was no chance of dripping or of the ink running out midway through drawing a line.

The Materials The printing substrate was the primary material required for creating the wood blocks. Research into the materials that were traditionally used in Japanese printmaking identified planks of mountain cherry wood as the preferred surface. This surface is described as strong, durable and having a very fine grain. The grain also provided a smooth working surface which allowed for the cutting of intricate detail (Bull, 2009; Salter, 2001; Kanada, 1989). I briefly considered importing printing blocks that were laminated with a thin layer of cherry wood from America. However, these were small in dimensions and international postage is expensive. Instead I sourced planks of American cherry wood from Sydney- based company Anagote Exotic Timbers. This substrate proved excellent for my purposes. The laser-etched details proved crisp and the surface stood up to rigorous hand burnishing. In addition to the characteristics of the surface, the thickness of these planks has allowed me to remove unwanted etchings and re-use the surface. This would not have been possible with the laminated print-making blocks that I found offered commercially. With a few small exceptions, which relate to the laser-cutting settings rather than the substrate, I have had no problems with this surface.

I briefly investigated western cedar as an alternative to cherry wood at the suggestion of a sculpting acquaintance. However, I found it crumbly, coarse-grained and thoroughly unsuitable for my purposes. The surface was soft and readily marked by thumbnail with several very small details snapping off during printmaking. I would not use it again for this purpose.

The ink used in the design process of the wood blocks was purchased with the Japanese cartridge-fed brush-pen mentioned above. The archival quality of this ink was not important as the images were to be digitised and so was not tested.

I used drafting film as the traditional media surface for transcribing the final designs to be digitised. The translucency of this medium meant that the final pencil sketches could be directly traced using a paint brush without need for a light table. One limitation of this surface is its poor response to moisture; drafting film readily cockles when wet me- dia is applied and dries slowly. Only small areas could be inked at a time. Another lim- itation is that it appears distinctly grey when scanned and requires careful digital leveling to remove the background tone. 58 3.2.3 Printmaking Materials

The selection of materials for printmaking was primarily based on my past experience working with the medium. This was further informed by the observations of print makers and extant printmaking methods as well as my experimentation with the available inks and printing surfaces (Bull, 2011, 2009; Till, 2007; Barker, 2005; Salter, 2001; Kanada, 1989).

Paper There was a great deal of flexibility in selecting the paper for printing from the woodblocks. As I had two distinctly different types of paper readily to hand I experimented with printing on both. The first were heavier western-style papers, with which I was familiar from past printmaking experimentation. The other were various samples of light Japanese paper acquired while investigating scroll substrates.

Samples of the three main papers I experimented with printing on are provided as Item 3; they are two Japanese calligraphy papers and Stonehenge paper.

A B C Item 3: Experimental printing papers. A: a generic Japanese half-sheet calligraphy practice paper (特選半紙). B : Japanese ‘Moon Palace’ calligraphy paper (月宮殿卷紙). C : Stonehenge paper (300gsm).

Half-sheet paper (A) is a light and translucent. This paper is not designed for printmaking but as I had a surplus of it to hand I explored it’s feasibility as a printing surface. When printed it held a beautifully embossed texture however the paper did not respond well to the thicker layers of gouache. In several instances the tackiness of such paint adhered the paper to the block, causing it to tear as I lifted it from the woodblock. This appeared to be a particular issue with white gouache. While the opacity of gouache on the semi- translucent paper was striking, the delicacy of the Japanese calligraphy paper made it an unsuitable surface for the larger Kúza-Náma Prints. 59 Moon Palace (B) is a heavier weight paper than Half-sheet but still very absorbent. It is comparatively opaque, with one side smooth and the other considerably coarser in texture. I found this paper to be more robust than the Half-sheet but it would still tear readily if not handled with extreme care when damp. This material also gave a good embossed texture. If used damp, and with the coarser side against the block the surface fibres did have a tendency to stick to the block. Where the ‘Half-sheet’ surface tore through the entire depth of the paper, ‘Moon Palace’ left a layer of paper fibre on the block. This marred the print surface and made it necessary to thoroughly clean the block between each print. I did experiment a little with using this paper for the full sized blocks but eventually set it aside for the more predictable and manageable Stonehenge paper.

Stonehenge (C) is a robust and heavy weight paper commonly available locally. I have seen it used in Western printmaking as well as in drawing, painting and bookbinding. This paper required dampening and a great deal more pressure than the two other papers to print crisply due to its thickness and rigidity. The printed images that I exhibited at Maitland Regional Art Gallery (2014) used this paper as the surface was familiar and durable, and I had a ready supply.

Ink and paint The methods of printing had a greater influence on my selection of the inks than on the selection of paper. As I was using two different techniques to create the images, applying colour by both roller and by brush, I investigated water-based and non-water-based media.

Letterpress Ink The first material I explored was Quick Kutz letterpress inks. I had a limited range of colours and their application was designed to be applied by brayer (roller). These worked well with that application tool but, unsurprisingly, were not readily applicable by brush. I could have further thinned these with a solvent but was hesitant in view of the effect this could have on the paper and its archival quality. The fumes of this medium, the length of drying time, and prominent warnings to avoid skin contact on their tubes encouraged me to set it aside and investigate other options.

Fig 3.2.7 Quick Kutz letterpress ink applied by brush, printed on Moon Palace paper (Sk4.p70). 60 Printmaking ink This rubber-based pigment was oilier in texture than the letterpress ink and gave a smoother coverage of the print. I did not attempt to use it with a paint brush due to its dense consistency, similar to that of the letterpress ink. The printmaking ink had a slow drying time, requiring over forty eight hours from printing to be touch dry. In comparison the water-based inks were dry within an hour of printing. The resistive quality of rubber- based ink suited my application of watercolour over-painting intended for two of the print designs (Cockatoos & Wattle). It also worked well for the multiple coloured blocks used in the Wasp design. The inks used were Caligo (Process yellow, Rubine Red, White and Yellow Ochre) and VanSon (Windmill Brown, Pantone Reflex Blue and Pantone Amazon Green). From these I mixed all of the colours that appear in the wasp block (Figure 3.2.8).

Figure 3.2.8 Rubber-based pigment on Magnani paper, detail from the Wasp print.

Windsor & Newton Gouache. The pertinant characteristics of this paint in are discussed in Section 3.2.1. While I was familiar with working with this medium on paper, applying it in printmaking was an entirely new experience. My experimentation with this medium was prompted by Cressida Campbell’s use of water-based paints in her printmaking (Crayford, 2010). This experimentation identified that particular colours rehydrated and transferred more readily than others. I discuss my findings on these specific colours further in Appendix B.5 - Printing Research.

Figure 3.2.9 Windsor & Newton Gouache, detail from ‘Lizard’ print. Printmaking Tools I used a minimum range of printmaking tools. These included a sheet of glass for spreading and mixing pigment, several spatulas for the decanting of pigment, a 6” wide rubber brayer for the application of the pigment to the wooden blocks, paint brushes and a baren, a Japanese burnishing utensil, for hand pressing the paper onto the print. Copious amounts of paper towel and scrap paper assisted with cleaning during and after the printing process. 61 3.3 Media techniques In this section I discuss my experimentation with the material examined in the previous section. I begin by discussing the painting techniques developed for the Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls, starting with the methods I have observed in existing hand-scrolls and illuminated manuscripts and then my own practice-based research. I then outline the three different media techniques I explored while investigating methods for creating the Kúza-Náma Woodblock illustrations and the experiments that identified the optimal etching settings for the woodblocks.

3.3.1 Scroll painting The methods used to paint existing Japanese scrolls have been extrapolated from observing images reproduced in books or on digital platforms. The latter have been particularly useful as those presented by educational institutions tend to be of high resolution, allowing close scrutiny of the colours and brush strokes used to apply the paint (The University of Chicago, 2012; Bowden College, 2010). Discussion of existing scrolls indicates that the image is first inked in lightly and then over-painted in opaque colours (Toda, 1969). This information is visually backed up by an unfinished emaki scroll The Tale of the Chinese Mountain Goblin Zengaibo held by the New York Public Library (Watanabe, 2011). The illustrations in this scroll show notations on sections of inked line-work that provide directions for the hue to be included, much like a colour by numbers.

I have also adapted techniques I have observed in European medieval illuminations and applied them in my scroll painting process. This has included using hatched lines to depict shadows and texture. My existing experience with these techniques has developed from close observation of reproductions, both in book and digital form, and through practice. Examples of this appear in Figures 3.3.1.1 and 3.3.1.2. The techniques used to paint the scrolls were primarily developed through experimentation with the paper, building on my existing illustration experience. Prior to working on the Summer Scroll I experimented with two test paintings to explore the capacities and limitations of the paper and the pigment.

Figure 3.3.1.1 Detail from my illumination based on the style of a 15th Century French Book of Hours (2011). Figure 3.3.1.2 Detail of a Draft Section showing illumination inspired hatching (2013).. 62

To begin, and while waiting for the full sized sheets of kōzo ordered from Japan to arrive, I drew a section of the Summer Scroll composition onto connected strips of Okumura’s sample paper in order to explore the effect of various washes, pigment densities and brush techniques on the surface. I intentionally overworked some sections of this image to observe the paper’s capacities. A detail from this experiment is reproduced below (Figure 3.3.1.3), and the full image can be accessed on the accompanying Image Appendices DVD/Draft Scrolls.

Figure 3.3.1.3 Paper Test Scroll detail.

This experiment revealed the effectiveness of using a combination of watercolour, diluted gouache and undiluted gouache on the translucent paper surface, producing a subtle three- dimensional effect. This is visible in the painted sample below (Item 4). The watercolour only tints the kōzo; the diluted gouache partially obscures the underlying colour of the paper and its surface lustre; the undiluted gouache completely coats the paper, fully obscuring the translucency, tone and surface lustre of the paper, making it appear to sit on the surface, particularly when bordering the watercolour sections. This method of varying the paint opacity became a characteristic part of my approach to the Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls.

Item 4. The effect of paint opacity variation on kōzo paper.

Figure 3.3.1.4 Detail of final test painting on ōk zo paper. 63 The second experimental painting was produced prior to commencing on the Summer Scroll (Figure 3.3.1.4). This painting was executed on an off-cut of the scroll kōzo paper and illustrated two sequential scenes. On this surface I worked through all of my planned steps of the painting process from underlying washes to the final fine detail work on the bat. The calligraphy, which was still in development at the time, was only roughly written in. This test scene established the intensities of colour that the paints were capable of providing on this surface and the amount of pigment that the paper would hold. From this experiment I also observed the variation in paint bleed resulting from different water saturations, refined my use of translucent and opaque paint and identified at what point to stop painting. This experimental piece also established my practice of placing an absorbent surface under the kōzo paper to blot up excess paint as it sank through the paper. This practice assisted in controlling and directing paint bleed while illustrating The Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls. From working on this piece I moved directly on to the final scrolls. 64 3.3.2 Printmaking with Tradigital media

Tradigital media is a term used “to describe works that bridge traditional and digital worlds” (Dorothy Simpson, cited in Gollifer, 2000, p. 234). An example of this is digital images that are produced in hard copy and then reworked using traditional media. I recognise the relevance of this term as describing my own application of digital technology as a tool to further enhance my traditional art practice. Where Simpson’s work takes digitally printed images and reworks them using traditional materials or techniques, my initial and final methods are both traditional. The process I applied to the Kúza-Náma Prints might even be described as “Tradigitional”. In my process the laser-cutter takes the place of the artisan print-carver, allowing me to focus on the traditional media processes of illustration and, to a lesser degree, printing those images by hand.

In the following section I discuss the progression of methods used to develop the illustration process for the Kúza-Náma Woodblocks. Over the course of three experiments my method evolved from an almost entirely digital process to one that integrated both traditional and digital media. A fourth and final experimental test further refined the optimal settings for laser-etching a print.

Vector illustrations My initial concern with using a laser-cutter to etch woodblocks was that the etching process would create a distinctly mechanical edge that would be apparent when the block was printed. To minimise any pixelated effect that might originate from the etching process I began by experimenting with vector-based illustrations, as these do not pixelate and are infinitely scaleable.

Using Adobe Illustrator I created line-work illustrations by digitally drawing over scanned sketchbook pages (Sk1.p86 and Sk2.p48). Through these images I explored different line weights and digital brush characteristics. The geometric roundel contains the final phrase from the Rubáiyát: the words “Tamam Shud”. The final designs were executed using two simple and generic digital calligraphic brushes provided by the vector program and applied at different stroke weights. A screen capture of the work in progress is visible below (Figure 3.3.2.1).

Figure 3.3.2.1 Tamam Shud vector image test designs, detail. 65 The dimensions of the image file were sized to fit on an off-cut of the cherry wood plank. I inverted the colour of the vector image as the laser-cutter etches away the black surface and leaves the white. The image file was imported into the laser-cutting software as an Illustrator file and the Design Technical Officer set the laser-cutter to work.

This first experiment used the settings recommended for cherry wood by the laser-cutter user manual. The design was etched three times. Each removed approximately half a millimetre of the surface with the final depth being approximately 1.5mm. The etching process was seen to leave a thin layer of soot on the surface of the block which had to be cleaned off prior to printing. This resulted in a small number of subtle sepia tone prints printed with no pigment other than the carbonised surface of the block. I discuss these carbon prints, for which I have coined the word “Soot Prints”, briefly in Appendix B.5.3 - Soot Prints and they were displayed in my MRAG exhibition (2014).

There was one unforeseen error that occurred with this experiment. In the illustration there were lines bisecting the beaks of the birds, these were hidden by an opaque fill of the vector shapes on screen but were transcribed by the laser-cutter. This can be seen below in the photographic detail of the etched block shortly before printing ink was applied (Figure 3.3.2.2). Being aware of this issue makes it easily avoidable in the image creation stage.

The hand-written notes for etching and printing this design can be read in Sk2.p56 and observations of this laser-cutting process are discussed later in Section 3.3.3.

Figure 3.3.2.2 Tamam Shud laser etched woodblock, detail.

Figure 3.3.2.3 Tamam Shud wood block print on Japanese paper (Sk2.p56). 66

Printing from this block was simple and effective. The embossed texture of the paper was, for want of a better word, delightful.

It is only with very close scrutiny that the finely pixellated grid is at all visible on the print itself (Figure 3.3.2.4).

The Tamam Shud experiment verified the feasibility of using the laser-cutter to create illustration print blocks and proved that vector images would provide very smooth line-work. However the mechanical regularity of the lines encouraged me to explore alternatives to vector illustration.

Figure 3.3.2.4 Detail from the Tamam Shud print.

3.3.2.2 Raster illustrations - Draft Bat design The second experiment involved creating a raster (pixel-based) image to compare with the results of the vector print. Again I digitally traced over a pencil composition, this time using Adobe Photoshop and a graphics tablet. This method captured the natural strokes of hand drawing and allowed the immediate reversal of any errors, an impossibility in traditional media. However this format of illustration did not translate as well to the laser- etched and printed forms.

Figure 3.3.2.5 Raster Bat - Inverted raster image for laser-etching.

This experiment was etched at the full size intended for the final Kúza-Náma prints. The settings remained the same as in the first test but only a single pass of the laser was made. This etch was a little less than one millimetre in depth, but visually appeared to be deep enough for printing. A print made from the block revealed it was far too shallow. I made no photographic record of this particular woodblock. The surface was planed off mechanically and reused for a subsequent laser-etched design. 67 While the mechanics of drawing this design as a raster image were far more natural than the vector process, the weight of the line on screen proved deceptive. The finest brush strokes created by the graphics tablet proved too narrow for the laser-etching to produce a solid line. This was not apparent until after the laser-etching process and became especially evident when printed (Figure 3.3.2.6).

Figure 3.3.2.6 Raster Bat - Water-based printing ink on Stonehenge paper.

The laser-cutter’s etching pattern is clearly visible in the stippled appearance of the fine detail in the wings and flowers. From this and the previous experiment I established the minimum stroke widths required for printing solid lines. Instead of continuing to experiment with working digitally I returned to traditional media, incorporating my findings from this and the vector design in my next experiment.

3.3.2.3 Digitised traditional media illustration - Kabuki portrait The final experimental technique I explored pinpointed the method that I used for all subsequent woodblock illustrations. This method involved manually inking the illustration line-work using a brush-pen on paper before scanning and digitally refining the image in Photoshop. The raster file was then etched by laser-cutter.

Figure 3.3.2.7 An example of dynamic field sketches in ink , Deer in Nara, Japan (2012). 68 The decision to return to an almost entirely traditional means of creating the line-work was directed by my experience working with ink brush-pens while travelling in Japan in 2012, and also by my dissatisfaction with outcomes of the graphic programs (Figure 3.3.2.7). The more I worked with traditional ink brush work on other projects, the less the computerised slickness of the vector line-work, and the comparative insipidness of my raster experiment appealed to me. The dynamic variation in line and sense of immediacy of the traditional media was the style that I had been unsuccessfully seeking to replicate digitally. To test the feasibility of this line-work for printmaking I began with an A5 pencil sketch (Figure 3.3.2.8).

Figure 3.3.2.8 Kabuki design - The original pencil sketch (Sk2.p47).

This design is a self portrait depicting various tools of my craft and borrowing from the bombastic style of Japanese Edo period prints depicting Kabuki actors. This design was intended to further test the parameters of woodblock cutting and printing, to express the underlying humour and vigour of my creative processes, and the eclectic nature of my work and sources of inspiration. The illustration contains no direct reference to the Rubáiyát, but the painted block was displayed with the Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls and Kúza-Náma print designs at my exhibition at Maitland Regional Art Gallery (2014).

The pencil sketch was traced quickly as a free-hand drawing on drafting film using a cartridge-fed brush-pen. Sections where the line-work went wrong were redrawn on a

Figure 3.3.2.9 Kabuki design - original inked drawing on drafting film (Sk3.p66). 69 spare corner of the drafting film until a satisfactory version was achieved (Figure 3.3.2.10). Once the ink was dry the images were scanned at high resolution and corrected in Photoshop. Where necessary the redrawn sections were substituted for those in the main image.

Figure 3.3.2.10 Kabuki design - alternative features (Sk3.p65).

Figure 3.3.2.11 Kabuki design - Digitised, amended and reversed image ready for etching (detail).

Figure 3.3.2.12 Kabuki design - painted woodblock ready to print.

The Kabuki design was etched into the back of the off-cut used for the vector design. Etching involved one pass of the laser-cutter at it’s highest power setting. This resulted in a ‘cut’ much deeper than required for my purposes. This depth, of approximately two millimetres, also resulted in a few small elements of the design breaking off while I was printmaking from it. This digitally-edited traditional ink technique provided all that I desired for the look of the Kúza-Náma designs. The clarity of the line-work and its crisp edge are readily apparent in the print detail below (Figure 3.3.2.13). 70

Figure 3.3.2.13 Kabuki design - print, gouache on Moon Palace paper. In addition to testing the creation of a printable surface from a digitised traditionally drawn illustration, this design allowed me to experiment with developing printmaking techniques based on Cressida Campbell’s work. I discuss my exploration of printing from this block in Appendix B.5.1 and further examples of prints pulled from this block can be observed under Draft Woodblocks on the Image Appendices DVD.

3.3.2.4 Final etching experimentation

Figure 3.3.2.14 Lizard design test half line-work and half inverted.

To refine the laser settings, and to create a woodblock at final size to further test my printmaking techniques, I etched a version of the Kúza-Náma Lizard design. For this woodblock the intensity of the etch was left at full power but the speed at which the laser- cutter etched was increased. This resulted in a one millimetre deep etch which provided both sufficient support for the finer line-work and had enough depth for crisp prints to be made from the surface (Figure 3.3.2.14). As visible in the image above, I etched the design to produce both line-work and raised-surface printing areas. This provided me with a larger surface area in which to explore printmaking with these two surfaces.

The specific settings for each of the experiments discussed above can be found in Appendix B.4 - Laser-cutter settings. 71 3.4 Illustrating The Hunter Rubáiyát

This section discusses the processes involved in producing the actual illustrations of The Hunter Rubáiyát. I begin by focusing on the compositional evolution of the Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls and then, using one section of the Summer Scroll as an example, the steps involved in painting the final scroll illustrations. Following this I discuss the evolution of the illustrations that resulted in the Kúza-Náma Woodblock designs. My discussion of the composition of the calligraphic text follows the evolution from the hand-written scripts used in the scrolls through to the final digital compositions that were then inserted into the Kúza-Náma compositions.

The scrolls and woodblock designs co-evolved from a shared pool of visual references and concepts, as did their calligraphic scripts. The underlying compositions of the woodblock designs were resolved well before that of the scrolls. Despite this the illustrations for The Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls were completed first in order to allow maximum time for them to be sent to Japan to be mounted. For the sake of clarity, I have chosen to begin discussing my illustration of The Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls. After this I explore the same process for the Kúza-Náma Woodblocks and then the development and composition of the various script styles used in the creative works.

3.4.1 Rearranging the Rubáiyát Before I discuss the composition of the illustrations I wish to draw attention to my rearrangement of the rubáiyát for The Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls. I have not maintain the poems in the order found in FitzGerald’s editions for this part of the creative work. As discussed earlier, historically rubáiyát are arranged in an arbitrary sequence. Following the precedent set by FitzGerald, and the illustrator Vedder, I have chosen to rearrange the Rubáiyát to suit my own narrative. Where FitzGerald’s sequence outlined a day, and Vedder’s a lifespan, mine follows the annual cycle of the seasons.

The development of my own order for the Rubáiyát’s content was undertaken early in the composition process and assisted in identifying potential imagery and alternative visual connections between rubá’i. My rearrangement initially involved establishing the framework for the seasonal narrative I planned to apply to the poem. As my compositions evolved, new, non-seasonal visual connections between previously unassociated rubá’i became apparent. I revised my arrangement accordingly. Each of these amendments lead me to additional identification of relevant imagery, sub-narratives or alternative interpretations of the verses.

To create the seasonal narrative structure for The Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls I first read through the poems, marking descriptive words that invoked specific imagery or seasonality. Poems with season-indicative words (for example “The first Summer Month” (QVIII) and “then came Spring”(QLXX) ), seasonal words (“…Snow upon the Desert’s 72 dusty Face” (QXIV), “…the Harvest…”(QXXVIII) and botanical references (“the fruitful Grape”(QXXXIX) and “Look to the Rose”(QXIII)) were simple to allocate to a season. Rubá’i without seasonal indicators were allocated a place in my narrative through several methods. For some rubá’i I had existing imagery that suggested their location in the seasonal plot. An example of this is the line “Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word”(QLI) which I associated with rain and flood waters, hence late Autumn, Winter or early Spring. Other rubá’i were arranged based on their emotional temperature: a melancholy verse would be situated in the cooler months while a vivacious or passionate one fitted with the mood of those that mentioned Spring or Summer. Other considerations, such as shared themes between rubá’i, suggested their possible place in my sequence. A record of this process is visible below (Figure 3.4.1).

Australia does not have a tidy ‘four seasons’ such as those frequently attributed to Britain, America, and Japan. I have observed natural cycles over the last decade in different locations of Australia. This developed my awareness of flowering plants and animal behaviour that marks local annual cycles more realistically than the quarterly ‘Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter’ mechanically allocated by the calendar. While the creative works are described as the Summer Scroll and Winter Scroll for ease of reference, they would be more accurately described as each spanning six months. The Summer Scroll spans August to February (early “Spring” to early “Autumn”) with the hottest part of the year occurring in the middle of the scroll. The Winter Scroll completes the other half of the cycle.

The beginning and end of The Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls were focal points for my rearrangement of the poem.

The Summer Scroll opens with a reversal of the usual order for the first two rubá’i. I begin with “Dreaming when Dawn’s left hand was in the sky…” (QII), inferring that the reader/ narrator’s initial status is somnolent; my rationale is that to be woken one must first be in some way asleep. My second rubá’i is the one that has been first in all other editions of FitzGerald’s poem, including Vedder’s. It is a command to the reader to “Awake!”(QI), ending the initial dream and ordering the viewer to pay attention to the reading experience. 73 As I had split the Rubáiyát into two parts, the end of the first scroll and the beginning of the second required a device to connect the two separate objects. I used the Kúza- Náma and three other rubáiyát which share the themes of mortal clay and ceramic vessels representing human form to create a thematic bridge between the two scrolls. The last rubá’i of the Summer Scroll sets the scene with “For in the market at the close of day I watch’d the Potter thumping his wet clay”(QXXXVI). The theme of the Potter’s shop carries across to the beginning of the Winter Scroll: “Listen again… In that old Potter’s Shop…” (QLXI). This rubá’i, calling for a renewal of the reader’s attention, is also the first in the Kúza-Náma Woodblock series.

Figure 3.4.1 Instance of poem rearrangement process (Sk1 p51-52).

The final rubá’i of the Winter Scroll, “Turn down an empty glass”(QLXXV), is also the last of every other edition of FitzGerald’s work. Vedder did not choose to change its place in his reordering of the poem and neither have I.

There are further instances in which I have rearranged rubá’i to emphasis alternate thematic links; these I leave for the reader to investigate for themselves. The reading and interpreting of these words has been an important part of the image creation process and has influence my compostion process from the very first sketches. 74 3.4.2 The Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls

Below I have reproduced limited sections of my draft images to illustrate my description of the evolution of the compositions. In most cases these are relatively small details due to the extremely elongated nature of the images. The full versions of all of these illustrations can be accessed on the Image Appendices DVD/Draft Scrolls.

3.4.2.1 Composing the Scrolls

Figure 3.4.2.1 The initial scroll format exploration.

My exploration of applying the scroll format to the Rubáiyát began with an experiment illustrating a single rubá’i (Figure 3.4.2.1). This image was partially inspired by the elongated format of Wolsely’s Hoopoe illustration (Figure 2.1), and by a long piece of chirigami paper I had left over from a prior project. The resulting illustration combined the text of that rubá’i with an array of tea cups. The visual content of the work refers to the Kúza-Náma although the depicted rubá’i is not a part of that series. At the time the Kúza-Náma was one of the most familiar parts of the Rubáiyát and it was uppermost in my mind as I explored ways to illustrate the poem.

Figure 3.4.2.2 Concept draft images of the Kúza-Náma as a narrative-scroll (Sk8.p7-10).

Expanding on the first concept, I sketched a series of conceptual views of a hand-scroll illustrating the eight rubáiyát of the Kúza-Náma. These were drawn on five double- page sketchbook spreads and depicted the verses surrounded by ceramic vessels (Figure 3.4.2.2). The shapes of the European, Australian, Japanese, and Persian vessels depicted are sourced from my research, personal collection and imagination. I set this concept aside as it did not reflect the modern or Australian setting through which I planned to address the poem. From these embryonic illustrations I established the scroll format as an engaging and unusual way of presenting the poem.

To investigate the feasibility of the scroll format beyond the confines of the A3 page I adhered multiple lengths of chirigami together to make a surface that was four metres long. The vertical height of this First-Draft scroll was eighteen centimetres, approximately half the height I visualised for the final scroll. 75 On this length of paper I arranged the entire seventy-five rubáiyát of the first edition, adhering scraps of paper with the printed verses directly to the scroll (visible in Figure 3.4.2.3). This draft was a brain-storming exercise in which I thought directly onto the paper to rapidly create an illustration for each of the rubáiyát. The composition of this draft took two days and was made using watercolour, biro and gouache with no direct visual references. I rearranged the order of the rubáiyát as necessary during the illustration process.

Figure 3.4.2.3 The first seven scenes of the First-Draft Scroll.

At the beginning of this First-Draft Scroll the scenes were separated by frames inspired by the shape of Middle Eastern doorways and gothic windows (Figure 3.4.2.3). The sharp isolation of each scene was a compositional device to provide a clear partition to each space in case I decided to reproduce the illustration in a book format. At the time I was considering producing the work as an accordion-folded structure that could be opened and laid flat to reflect the continuity of the original artwork but stored as a book.

A brief diagram of the concept of a folded scroll can be seen on Sk1.p2 (Figure 3.4.2.4). This idea of uniformly sized and shaped windows was rapidly abandoned in the First-Draft Scroll after the first six sections. By the end of my compositions of this draft scroll the boundaries Figure 3.4.2.4 Accordian book concept (Sk1.p2). between each section had become organic and provided by the imagery itself (Figure 3.4.2.5). Overlapping illustration elements provided the transitions between most scenes though I still made some use of frames where they supported the composition.

Figure 3.4.2.5 The end of the First-Draft Scroll.

The First-Draft Scroll preceded any project-specific fieldwork. This exploratory illustration assisted in identifying potential landscapes and biotic references for the project. I intentionally included compositional elements that I was not proficient at drawing in my illustrations to ensure that I improved on these subjects during the extended time invested on the creative project. These were, in particular, the depiction of landscapes and 76 architecture. The exercise also identified instances of imagery that I had already associated with specific rubáiyát. There are several sections from this first composition that have survived largely unchanged in the final creative work. They include the kingfisher, the lilly- pilly berries, the two instances of lizards on tree trunks, and the final down-turned glass.

Figure 3.4.2.6: Landscape transitions and window frames (Sk1.p23-26).

The subsequent length of this half-sized scroll, some four metres long, impressed on me the necessity to split the Hunter Rubáiyát Scroll into two parts. Creating two scrolls rather than one made both the construction, and final reading process, far more manageable. Further refinement of a section from the First-Draft Scroll in my sketchbook explored methods of transition between scenes (Figure 3.4.2.6). I used various combinations of frames and overlapping landscape elements to segment the scenes and explore distinctly different times of day and habitat types side by side. As the composition developed these frames were gradually replaced by increasingly open compositions that used elements from the illustration, such as vegetation or cloud banks, to separate scenes. This is increasingly visible in the next scroll draft.

Figure 3.4.2.7 A section of the Second-Draft Scroll, Summer.

The two Second-Draft Scrolls (Summer and Winter) were created at half the size visualised for the final creative work. The illustrations were drawn in colour pencil, with occasional and sparing use of gold gouache, on A4 photocopy paper that had been connected horizontally with gummed paper tape (Figure 3.4.2.7). This, like the First-Draft Scroll, was drawn dynamically with only minimum consultation of references and over a short period of time. The draft identified potential content for previously unresolved scenes, further developed and refined the transitions between scenes, and suggested potential colour palettes for the final work.

Figure 3.4.2.8 The first scenes resolved for the final composition (Sk1.p101-106). 77 Returning to my sketchbook I refined the kingfisher composition from the Summer Second- Draft Scroll and the following five scenes. These sketchbook compositions established the section dimensions and the style of illustration used in the final scrolls. This draft also marks the first use of cartouches to contain the rubáiyát (Figure 3.4.3.8).

I use the term cartouche to describe the oval or rectangular fields which, in my creative work, contain individual rubá’i, my signature, the year or other aesthetic text. I sourced the word cartouche from Egyptology, where it describes line-encapsulated hieroglyphs containing royal titles (Sykes, 1980). The term cartouche is also applied to describe the border-enclosed text elements found in Japanese prints (Brooklyn Museum, n.d.; Fiorillo, 1999). I used this device throughout the creative work.

Having established the presentation format for my interpretation of the rubáiyát, I transferred the above established compositions into a new sketchbook and continued to compose outwards from those scenes. As each double page spread was completed I made an A3 photocopy of the sections. These photocopies were temporarily tacked to the edge of the following composition. This provided a view of six simultaneous sections at a time, assisting in the aesthetic continuity of the composition. Two of these abutted spreads are shown below (Figure 3.4.2.9).

Figure 3.4.2.9 Final Compositional sketches for the Summer Scroll (Sk2.p13-18).

Once the sketchbook compositions for the two scrolls were completed the photocopies were permanently connected to one another. This resulted in the Third-Draft Scrolls which were the drafts created at actual size. Each of these measured approximately four and a half metres in length and thirty centimetres in height. This exercise verified the overall flow of the compositions outside of the boundaries of the sketchbook pages. I applied loose washes of watercolour to this draft, exploring potential transitions of colour and developing a palette for the final work. I made no attempt to paint in details on this draft and wrote alterations directly onto the surface of the paper (Figure 3.4.2.10). As alterations or alternate resolutions to the original composition became apparent I amended the pencil work in the sketchbook composition. Altered panels were then photocopied and replaced in the draft scroll as appropriate. 78

Figure 3.4.2.10 A section of the Third-Draft Scroll, Summer.

The compositional drawings of Sk2.p1-44 and the loose colour compositions of the Third- Draft Scroll constituted the final composition work done for the scrolls. From this point in the process I worked on two small paintings discussed in Section 3.3.1 to explore the paper intended for the final scrolls before beginning on the Summer Scroll.

Prior to the painting I traced the full scroll composition sketch onto the paper using a graphite pencil. I centred the composition vertically on the paper to provide a three inch buffer zone above and below the illustration area. This spare paper provided a test-surface to check paint colour and to make minor experiments with technique prior to applying them to the illustration.

3.4.2.2 Painting the Scrolls

Figure 3.4.2.11 Initial under-painting of Summer Scroll.

To begin I laid in large, loose washes of watercolour along the entire length of the Summer Scroll, filling in the underlying colours of each scene Figure( 3.4.2.11). Where graded washes were planned, I pre-wet the paper and then gently brushed on very liquid washes of paint. This minimised the risk of abrading the paper surface. During the largest washes the paper was supported by a sheet of perspex clamped on an incline. This provided a rigid structure that prevented tearing or directional stress on the paper until it had fully dried and also made use of gravity to help disperse the colours.

From the outset I was aware that my technique and familiarity with the surface would mature between beginning and finishing this scroll. Taking this into account I began 79 painting at the middle of the scroll, working outwards to lay in the basic details across the entire object before going back and reworking each section to a more polished state. This ensured that the reader’s first impression and final view of this scroll and the beginning of the Winter Scroll would display a similar level of technical ability. I also applied this practice of working out from the centre to the calligraphy for this scroll.

Figure 3.4.2.12 Details worked into the lower left flowers using a mixture of gouache and watercolour.

Building on the under washes I increased the intensity of the paints and began working with opaque colours. The background details of this scene were ruled in using a gold gel- pen. A complex geometric design was intended but at this point in the process I recognised the simpler shapes better suited the composition.

Figure 3.4.2.13 beginning detailing on the kingfisher’s head. 80 At this stage in the painting I focused on individual scenes. Photographic and sketchbook references were consulted to verify and inform the shape and colour of the illustration content. A photographic reference of a willow tree is visible in the top left corner of the above photograph (Figure 3.4.2.13). For this particular section of the Summer Scroll the white cartouches were laid on early in the illustration process. In the majority of the scroll they were not painted until after the illustrations.

Figure 3.4.2.14 Further refinement of details on the bird and the willow.

The above image shows further modeling of the feathers, eye, beak and detailing the kingfisher’s plumage using gouache and a fine brushFigure ( 3.4.2.14). Further dry-brush detailing on the gecko, the blossoms and the striations on the kingfisher’s collar completed the illustration.

Figure 3.4.2.15 The final illustration without calligraphy. 81 The final step in the illustration process involved going over the cartouches with additional layers of white gouache. On average three to four layers were required to achieve a suitable finish to write upon. Anything less resulted in ink bleeding into the paper during the writing process. It was important that the under-painting was completely dry before any writing was applied. I will discuss the development of the various scripts for this project in Section 3.4.4.

By the completion of the Summer Scroll I was confident in the style of illustration and the techniques involved in working on kōzo. During the process I developed a greater confidence with my materials. This included which paints stained permanently and which could be flooded with clean water and lifted from the paper, how much agitation could be used to spread the paint before the paper surface became abraided and the consistency of gouache required to prevent the paint from bleeding beyond my brush-strokes. This experience made my work on the Winter Scroll faster and more confident.

Between working on the Summer Scroll and the Winter Scroll there was little alteration to my actual process however I did make some distinct changes to the amount of ornament in the backgrounds between the two Scrolls. In the Summer Scroll I was very conservative, simplifying the small number of background patterns from my initial sketches. By the Winter Scroll I was more lavish, adding additional areas of pattern that had not been in the original compositions. This is evident in comparing the complexity and number of patterned backgrounds between the two scrolls. The Summer Scroll has only two, subtle and sedate patterns (Figure 3.4.2.16.A and Figure 3.4.2.16.B). The Winter Scroll has five patterns, three of which are in bold colours, emphasising the influence of illuminated manuscripts have had on my project (Figure 3.4.2.17). The original star pattern intended for the Summer Scroll that was simplified into the triangles Figure( 3.4.2.16.B) was repurposed to invoke frost in the Winter Scroll, visible in a central green and white pattern (Figure 3.4.2.17.D).

Figure 3.4.16 The two semi-patterned backgrounds that appear in the Summer Scroll. 82

Figure 3.4.2.17 The five geometric background patterns that appear in the Winter Scroll.

The Winter Scroll also makes use of a simple, geometric rubber stamp to create one of the patterns. To do this I cut a hexagonal form from rubber. This was applied to create the pattern behind the cicada shells (Figure 3.4.15.A). Experimentation with this medium prior to its application appears on Sk3.p100-101 and Sk4.p11-12, viewable on the Image Appendices DVD/Sketchbooks.

3.4.2.3 Post illustration work The application of calligraphy to the Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls did not mark the completion of the artwork. The final step, that of mounting the artwork on a laminate of fabric and paper was undertaken in Japan by Mr Okumura. I delivered the first painted scroll paper in May 2013 and received it back finished in late July. The second artwork was sent by post from Australia to Okumura’s studio in October 2013 and this returned in December the same year. An overview of my visit and the mounting process is provided in Appendix B.3 Okumura’s Studio.

Prior to parting with each scroll I scanned them using a Contex HD Ultra Scanner, a machine for oversized documents. This ensured that I had a digital copy of the work in case of mischance. I also scanned the completed scrolls when they returned in order to create digital versions for exhibition and assessment purposes. The scale of the artworks demanded not only specialist equipment but also a degree of both patience and courage as, though designed for large works, the scanner had multiple paper-jam errors and some additional issues that made the process nerve-wracking. The worst of these issues was the loss of traction of the rubber-rimmed feed-wheels that draw the material through the scanner. In one instance the wheel’s inability to grip at the beginning of one of the mounted scrolls left permanent dark marks on the silk cover section, though mercifully not the painted surface. Imperfections on the scanner glass-plate also resulted in several fine streaked lines in the digital documents. These were generally no more than one to two pixels in height and were simple to remove using Photoshop.

I also digitised each of the draft scrolls. This required further patience as the drafts were dog-eared or crumpled in sections from the painting process. Smaller visual documents were scanned using an A3 scanner. 83 Printing the scrolls For the reproductions that accompany this exegesis I used one of the University of Newcastle’s Faculty of Design, Communication and I.T.’s wide format printers and a semi- matte paper stock. I have also investigated the quality available through the Fuji Xerox printing facility on the University of Newcastle Callaghan campus, which uses a satin paper. In both cases the images were printed at actual size and at a 300dpi resolution. The richness of the colour in both cases was slightly subdued from the original and the lustre of the paper surface and metallic paints not replicable. 84 3.4.3 The Kúza-Náma The Kúza-Náma was my first introduction to the Rubáiyát and, consequently, holds particular personal significance. The opportunity to revisit this text using alternative techniques and styles to those applied to the scrolls was both rewarding and challenging. This exploration visually engaged with different elements of the text to those addressed in The Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls. Where the scrolls present the Rubáiyát as a surface to be travelled, the Kúza-Náma illustrations provide static windows showing points in time.

Below I describe the chronological evolution of the Kúza-Náma illustrations, from initial and simple thumbnail concepts to my experimental Tamam Shud woodblock print. I briefly describe the influence of this work on subsequent compositions and the significance of creating five images, before focusing on the individual development of each of the Kúza- Náma illustrations: from original sketch to the final digital illustration. I then describe the process used to create colour separations for multiple impression printing. Following this I give an overview of the completed woodblocks and prints.

3.4.3.1 Origins The earliest illustrated ancestor of the Kúza-Náma designs is a thumbnail sketch of a scene framed by a Persian window, a concept initially considered for the scrolls (Figure 3.4.3.1A). This image already contains two elements that are a feature of all of the final designs: a large expanse of sky and prominent telegraph lines.

These sketches were made while I was still considering the format to use for my interpretation of the full Rubáiyát. I briefly investigated book-plates and frontispiece illustrations while considering how to present the illustrations. From these concepts came the thumbnail sketch that depicts myself at work on the creative project (Figure 3.4.3.1B). This rough concept scribble was initially conceptualised as a bookplate to go with Figure 3.4.3.1 (A) Middle Eastern window inspired scene frame concept (Sk1.p21) & (B) a book-plate self portrait concept the final illustration work but was later (Sk1.p85). reworked into the Kabuki portrait design which I used to test the techniques used to produce the final Kúza-Náma illustrations, discussed in Section 3.3.2. Recognising the potential to use a laser-cutter to produce the actual woodblocks I did a small feasibility test to see whether the concept was possible. 85 Tamam Shud The Tamam Shud design was my preliminary technology test (Figure 3.4.3.2). The original sketch was inspired by my research into Persian and Islamic geometric patterns (Hobhouse, 2003; Porter, 2003; Canby, 1999; Critchlow, 1976). The accompanying notes in my sketchbook record this design’s potential as a bookplate and/or as an end-piece for the Rubáiyát.

Figure 3.4.3.2 The sketch from Sk1.p86 (left) and the resulting print (right) pasted in Sk2.p57.

The influence of this first design is particularly visible in the first of the Kúza-Náma designs, which shares the visual device of a patterned roundel containing text. This circumstance is unsurprising given that the drawings outlining the composition for the Kúza-Náma illustrations were drawn concurrently with the Tamam Shud design.

3.4.3.2 Composing the Woodblock illustrations The Kúza-Náma illustrations sprang from pen to page in compositions very close to their final incarnations. The refinement of the designs occurred over a long period of time. This was primarily enforced by the need to complete The Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls as early as possible in order to allow sufficient time for them to be mounted. The first sketches for the Kúza-Náma series were drawn in Autumn 2012 and are approximately A5 in size (Sk1.p87-91). The designs were reworked at an A3 scale in late 2012 and early 2013. The finalised sketches were inked and digitally readied for laser-cutting in November 2013.

There are five Kúza-Náma illustrations. My decision to divide the text into this number of images was directed by the visual balance I associate with odd numbers. The number of rubá’i in each design also reflects a symmetry across the series when displayed in order. The first and last designs contain a single rubá’i, the second and fourth contain two, and the central design contains three. The final rubá’i in the series is not a part of the original Kúza-Náma. I included this additional verse to achieve the symmetry of composition 86 described above, and as a narrative closure to the series. The final rubá’i is also the verse I most closely associate with the passing away of my Grandmother, which occurred in late 2012. My decision to have five illustrations lead to my adoption of an additional sub- theme for the illustrations. This theme is that of the five senses: smell, sight, taste, touch and sound. These themes are discussed further in Section 4.4.

Cockatoo & Sound

A B C Figure 3.4.3.3 Drafts of the Cockatoo design: Sk1.p87(A), Sk3.43-44 (B) and inked composition (C).

This, the first of the Kúza-Náma compositions, was greatly influenced by the mandala-like structure of the Tamam Shud design (Figure 3.3.4.3). This is the only design in the series that retained a cartouche-like device in its final composition. The circle of pots, along with the cockatoos and the ceramic resisters of the telegraph poles, give multiple interpretations to the line “Population round in Rows.” (QLIX). The circular motif is also shared by the mandala structures depicted at the end of the Winter Scroll.

First Draft Figure 3.4.3.3.A line-work The first draft of this image loosely established the composition of the two telegraph poles and the crowd of cockatoos. These birds were drawn from memory of their behaviour and the reference sketches from a stuffed sulphur-crested specimen held in the NHIRLC (Sk1. p16).

Second Draft Figure 3.4.3.3.B The refinement of the composition involved reducing the size of the roundel and the birds in order to give greater priority to the sky and telegraph lines. The telegraph-poles in this image are based on a photograph I took several years ago close to my home in Central Australia. For the cockatoos I worked from multiple third party photographs as I was unable to collect references locally. These sketches can be found in Sk3.p45-46, p48-49. 87 Inked Design Figure 3.4.3.3.C The inking process was carried out on a single sheet of drafting film. Any line-work that was mis-drawn, overly thick or otherwise undesired, such as those indicated below (Figure 3.4.3.4), were removed using Adobe Photoshop after scanning. I contemplated using Adobe Illustrator to draw in the sweeping telegraph lines for these prints as the vectors would allow complete control over the placement of these parallel lines. However I judged that the even consistency of such lines would be conspicuous amidst the organic variation in the weight and edge of the hand drawn lines. Some small amendments to these lines were made digitally, but overall they were left as manually executed with wobbles, jagged edges included.

Figure 3.4.3.4 Original line-work indicating errors that would be digital removed.

Wattle & Scent This design was directed by the local and abundant presence of the depicted wattle species, which was in flower during the first composition sketches.

A B C Figure 3.4.3.5 Drafts of the Wattle design: Sk1.p88 (A), Sk3.33-34 (B) and inked composition (C).

First Draft Figure 3.4.3.5.A line-work The Wattle composition was the least refined of the five initial drawing. This and the Cockatoo design were situated on facing pages of my sketchbook and the placement of the telegraph poles connected the two scenes visually. A spider rather than a moth is jotted in among the roughly-placed wattle leaves. 88 Second Draft Figure 3.4.3.5.B This pencil draft was informed by a wattle specimen collected from outside my studio space in the University of Newcastle Design building. The plant matter was photocopied before being traced and amended to suit the composition. The telegraph poles were drawn from photographs taken during my fieldwork in the Stroud region, NSW. The stylistic clouds in the lower corner are a visual tribute to the stylised line-work of Charles Heath Robinson’s post-Rubáiyát illustrations.

Inked Design Figure 3.4.3.5.C This was the first design to be completed in ink. The initial testing of the brush work for this piece identified the pressure and angles required to achieve the sweeping lines and detail work that I applied in all subsequently executed designs. The test work for this can be seen on Sk3.p50. The wattle composition required very little digital amendment.

Wasp & Sight This design was originally fourth in the series and contained only two rubáiyát. The composition was later recognised as the most suitable to contain three rubáiyát and the illustration was rearranged accordingly, making this the third and central design. The large expanse of water was chosen in order to experiment with printing gradients and simple water reflection. The landscape is greatly inspired by the work of the Shin Hanga artists Toshi Yoshida and Kawase Hasui (Brown, 2008; Till, 2007). The fine line-work that makes up the insect is a direct tribute to the exquisite prints of insects and flowers by Japanese Edo period artist Kitagawa Utamaro (Hillier, 1979).

A B C Figure 3.4.3.6 Drafts of the Wasp design: Sk1.p90 (A), Sk3.41-42 (B) and inked composition (C). 89 First Draft Figure 3.4.3.6.A This scene originally depicted the mangroves of the Hunter River as viewed from the water. The content of this illustration was directed by the lines “…the crescent all were seeking” and “the Porter’s Shoulder knot a-creaking”(QLXVI). The crescent moon in this sketch is visible at the base of the lower cartouche and again as a reflection in the lower left corner (pointed out by a penciled in arrow). The “a-creaking” of the rubá’i was represented by the buzz of a wasp’s wings while in flight.

Second Draft Figure 3.4.3.6.B The main refinements of this draft focused on the anatomy of the wasp, the vegetation on the bank and rippling water. Photographs from Chichester Dam, situated near the Barrington Tops National Park, NSW, informed the vegetation while images from CSIRO and a specimen from the NHIRLC contributed to the refinement of the wasp image.

Inked Design Figure 3.4.3.6.C The inked line-work of this design was the simplest to execute. The complexity of this illustration lies in my decision to print in colour using four different woodblocks.

Wasp & Colour Separations My approach to composing the colour separations for this design were loosely based on the methods used in Japanese printmaking. Traditionally the individual colour blocks are created by pasting colour annotated prints taken from the previously completed key (line- work) block onto the planks from which the subsequent colour blocks are to be carved (Bull, 2011; Kanada, 1989).

My adaptation of this method was to hand- colour a print from the key block using fairly flat washes of colour to develop the colour separations (Figure 3.4.3.7). I scrutinised the prints of Hasui Kawase in particular, observing the shape and rhythm of the ripples he used in his water scenes (Brown, 2008). Figure 3.4.3.7 Wasp design: Watercolour composition over the line-work print.

Using the watercolour painting as a template, I overlaid drafting film and, using black ink, traced the areas of each colour indicated by the swatch bar visible on the right hand side of the painting (Figure 3.4.3.7). The orange and the palest green shared the same woodblock as I could topically apply the colours, reducing the number of impressions necessary. The separations were then digitised and refined in Adobe Photoshop. 90

Figure 3.4.3.8.A-D Colour separation compositions.

Figure 3.4.3.8.A provides the colour of the sky and reflecting water.

Figure 3.4.3.8.B contains the underlying green of the vegetation, the lightest reflection of the vegetation and the body of the wasp.

Figure 3.4.3.8.C shows the mid-tone of the vegetation, a secondary layer of ripples and the mid tone reflections for the vegetation.

Figure 3.4.3.8.D provided small sections of dark green but was not used in the final, traditional printing due to machine failure. The absence of this layer is subtly visible in comparing the digital mock-up and a copy of the four block printed image below (Figure 3.4.3.9.B and Figure 3.4.3.9.C). 91

A B C Figure 3.4.3.9 Digital mock ups in greyscale (A), colour (reversed) (B) and a final print example (C). In Photoshop I layered the four digitised monochromatic separations over the original key block in order to check the overall appearance of the composition (Figure 3.4.3.9.A). Where needed I made alterations to the layers and then, when satisfied with the grey-scale compositions, coloured each layers to simulate a coloured print (Figure 3.4.3.9.B). At this point the colour separations were ready to be etched onto the woodblock surface and then printed.

Bat & Taste This block has been the one over which I have lavished the most attention in order to achieve the wing and grevillea details. The composition has evolved to make the bat, rather than the words, the focus of the illustration. This design was used as a test subject for all three types of media: vector, raster and traditional. The vector was not at all successful and has not been reproduced in this exegesis.

A B C Figure 3.4.3.10 Drafts of the Bat design: Sk1.p89 (A), Sk3.37-38 (B) and raster composition (C). 92 First Draft Figure 3.4.3.10.A The selection of the flying-fox for this illustration was directed by the rubá’i’s description of “a Vessel of more ungainly Make” (QLXIII), reflecting the widespread discomfort I have observed in Western culture’s response to bats.

Second Draft Figure 3.4.3.10.B To inform this design I referred to my existing observational sketches of preserved bats made in 2010 at the Australian Museum. The grevillea blossom and leaves were sourced from plants growing near my studio space.

Raster Draft Figure 3.4.3.10.C This draft was traced digitally from the pencil sketch of Figure 3.4.14.B using Adobe Photoshop. This experiment revealed major compositional issues with the illustration. The three cartouches overly dominated the picture plane, and crowding the fruit bat into the top left corner. These observations resulted in the number of rubá’i in this composition being reduced to two and the bat being enlarged and given more visual priority.

Inked Design: Figure 3.4.3.10.D The final inked composition of the Bat design was reworked from the amended raster composition (Figure 3.4.3.11A). The variable weight of the brush-pen worked particularly well for the wrinkled texture of the wings and the outlining of the grevillea leaves. The fine details of the grevillea stamens were a challenge to ink and required some degree of digital refinement.

Figure 3.4.3.11 Amended digital design (A) and the final inked composition (B). 93 Lizard & Touch This is the most visually complex of the Kúza-Náma illustrations. The background was suggested by a NHI undergraduate drawing exercise that I have continued to apply in subsequent illustration projects.

A B C Figure 3.4.3.12 Drafts of the Lizard design: Sk1.p87(A), Sk3.43-44 (B) and digital composition (C).

First Draft Figure 3.4.3.12.A This was the most complete and carefully drawn of the first draft sketches. The leaf litter was drawn from life using a selection of bark and other dried vegetative matter collected from outside the studio. The skink was largely drawn from memory. The lizard’s similarity in size and shape to the surrounding leaves made it pleasantly cryptic but the solid background set this design apart from the others in the series which are dominated by sky.

Second Draft Figure 3.4.3.12.B This composition gave greater priority to the lizard and the reflected sky. In order to observe how a telegraph pole would appear reflected on the surface of a puddle I attempted to view them on the surface of a cup of water on the day I did this draft. This experiment was very limited in success and eventually I reverted to imagination, informed by past observations.

Inked design Figure 3.4.3.12.C The design reproduced here is composed of the two inked drawings visible below. In my first attempt Figure( 3.4.3.13.A), the lower half was correctly drawn but the upper part was not satisfactory. The second attempt (Figure 3.4.3.13.B) contains amendments to the lizard’s head and markings, as well as the details of the leaf-litter and far background. The two images were digitally integrated to create the final illustration. After digitising the five designs I pinned up a printed copy of each in my workspace for a 94

Figure 3.4.3.13 Original inked line-work of the Lizard design. week. This allowed me to observe the compositions from a distance and to annotate the images with any desired amendments as I noted them. Any issues were digitally altered as recognised. When I was happy with the designs the images were exported to the Epilog software and the blocks etched. Each block took roughly one and half hours to etch. 95 3.4.3.3 The Final Kúza-Náma illustrations

The majority of the work involved in Kúza-Náma Woodblocks lay in their composition and the experimentation that refined the techniques to produced them. Below, in thumbnail format for comparison are the completed digital compositions, the laser-cut-ready image files, the etched wood blocks and the five printed designs.

Figure 3.4.3.14 The final Kúza-Náma Illustration digital compositions.

Figure 3.4.3.15 The laser-cutter ready image files. 96

Figure 3.4.3.16 The etched illustration wood blocks.

Figure 3.4.3.17 The final coloured prints.

The variety of techniques used to produce the above prints are briefly described in Appendix B.5.2 Printing the Kúza-Náma as the printmaking process has not been a focal part of this creative project. These prints have verified that my laser-etching concepts are sound and pave my way for further, post-doctoral, investigations and applications. 97 3.4.4 Scripts and Script-Fonts

The creative project has required me to develop a balance between the text of the Rubáiyát and the surrounding illustrations. While analysing this balance is not a concern of the exegesis, my process of seeking it had a strong influence on the appearance of the final artworks. In the past my focus has been predominantly on the creation of images; where I included text the words were only a very small part of an overall composition. However, in this project both text and image hold equal importance. My experimentation, selection, and refinement of the various styles discussed reflects my search for suitable ways in which to present the words of the Rubáiyát.

I use the terms script, script-font, and font to differentiate between the styles of text presentation considered for the creative project. I use the word script to indicate an entirely hand-written body of text. Script-font refers to the digitised text style that I developed from my calligraphic hand-writing. The word font I reserve to describe bodies of text such as the one used to type this exegesis: a wholly mechanical typography designed for the printed word.

From the outset I intended that the scroll rubáiyát would be hand-written. The rubáiyát of the Kúza-Náma illustrations however began with a mechanically derived font which was abandoned in favour of digital font-script I derived from the calligraphic styles I developed for the Scrolls.

3.4.4.1 The main Scroll script All but five of therubáiyat in the scrolls are written in the same simple calligraphic script. This script combines the stroke shape of two different styles of calligraphy found in European medieval manuscripts. These are an Early Gothic script from the Ormesby Psalter (MS douce 366) and an Insular script from the Book of Kells (Bodleian Library, 2012; Bernard, 2011). My amalgamation of these two scripts was informed by my existing practice-based experience in writing and illuminating medieval manuscript-styled certificates of appreciation Figure( 3.4.4.1). The selection and development of the scroll’s scripts was directed by the necessity for legibility, ease of maintaining a consistency of style and as being visually complementary to the illustrations.

Figure 3.4.4.1 My Early Gothic script-based calligraphy (2011), and Insular script-based Calligraphy (2012).

The process of creating and inserting the text into the scrolls was one carefully developed and well practiced before hand. My past experience with calligraphy for other projects made me aware from the outset that thorough preparation and repeated practice was the 98 best way to minimise both compositional and typographical errors. Prior to working on the scrolls I experimented with the various pen nibs. These exercises lead to the development of the scripts used in the scrolls and also the woodblocks. Examples of this exploratory pen practice can be seen in Sk1.p46-8, Sk2.93-94 and Sk3 p86-91, p96 (Figure 3.4.4.2).

Figure 3.4.4.2 Calligraphic nib experimentation (Sk2.p94).

I did not apply any nib-based calligraphy to the scrolls until the illustrations were complete. This is not a recommended method. With illuminations it is always wisest to follow the rule of thumb: words first, images second. This prevents accidents during the writing process ruining a page invested with hours of painting. As the order of my rubá’i were still evolving at the point when I began painting I chose not to follow this advice. Instead I made copious tests and experiments before applying the calligraphy to minimise errors.

In preparation for writing the calligraphy I composed each rubá’i individually on sticky- notes, paying attention to FitzGerald’s enthusiastic and sometimes random capitalisation of words and punctuation. I underlined all capital letters and included the original page number of the rubá’i for quick reference (Figure 3.4.4.3). Writing out individual rubá’i onto these small slips of paper also assisted in identifying natural compositional breaks that allowed me to arrange the words in each cartouche. The sticky-notes also ensured easily accessible and independent copies of all of the rubáiyát. To further reduce the possibility of accidentally repeating any rubáiyát, I temporarily adhered them in order on the scrolls, checking the changes to the arrangements I had annotated on the Third-Draft Scroll.

Figure 3.4.4.3 Sticky notes and text test compositions ( Sk3.p64). 99 To assist in composing drafts for the calligraphy for each rubá’i, and to write the final versions into the poems, I created paper templates. These consisted of A5 sheets of paper with the dimensions of the cartouche cut from the centre and guidelines marked on either side of the shape (Figure 3.4.4.4). The image of this template also shows the marks of my constant checking of the ink flow and pen nib cleanliness that occurred during the writing process. This image also shows the practical nature of the sticky-notes and my use of a straight-edged piece of paper to assist with lining up each row of calligraphy. The spare paper additionally assisted in preventing accidental contact of my hand with the painted surface. Figure 3.4.4.4 Calligraphy template in use.

The draft calligraphic compositions for each rubá’i can be viewed in Sk3.p92-96 for the Summer Scroll and Sk4.p42-52 for the Winter Scroll (the latter includes the drafts of the free-form calligraphy). I wrote out three to four rubá’i at a time in my sketchbook before repeating the process directly on the gouache-primed surface of the scroll.

The chalky surface of the gouache was particularly useful as it allowed me to correct typographical errors without much difficulty. If a spelling error or misshaped letter occurred then the section could be carefully dampened and the unwanted pigment blotted away, along with a layer of gouache. This could then be repainted and, when dry, the text rewritten. 100 3.4.4.2 Free-form Calligraphy Script Five rubá’i explore alternative presentation approaches to the small cartouche-contained verses. I describe these as “Free-form Calligraphy” to differentiate them from the style applied to the majority of the rubáiyát. Four of these instances explore integrating the text directly into the image; two of the integrated verses are written as though they are on the surface of objects depicted in the illustrations and the other two float above the background. The fifth, which I will discuss separately, is an elaborate adaptation of the main calligraphic script which I presented inside a larger cartouche and which was the basis for the script-font developed for the woodblocks.

A B C D Figure 3.4.4.5 A: Summer Scroll (QXI), B-D: Winter Scroll (QLXV)(QLI)(QLXXV).

Figure 3.4.4.5.A “Here beneath the Bough”(QXI) is the only free-form poem in the Summer Scroll. The shape of the script is based on styles of graffiti carved into tree trunks. These, I have observed, tend to consist of straight lines which are easier to control than curves. The design was arranged to simulate the haphazard placement of graffiti while still maintaining the word order of the verse. The writing was executed by brush after the watercolour background was completed.

Figure 3.4.4.5.B The first free-form calligraphy in the Winter Scroll inverts the white on black trend of the cartouches. This script, based on my handwriting, was also influenced by the Insular script of Irish medieval manuscripts. The unvaried line width of the gel pen further reflects modern handwriting.

Figure 3.4.4.5.C The third free-form calligraphy, like the first, is integrated into the trunk of the tree. This script is intentionally irregular to appear as if natural and incidentally occurring. The script style emulates the bark of the Scribbly Gum (Eucalyptus haemastoma); this common name arises from the scrawling marks over the tree’s trunk caused by beetle larvae. In contrast to the first free-form calligraphy, where the words are intentionally carved by human hands (Figure 3.4.4.5.A), here the words appear as if by accident, the result of the blind hunger of insects. This calligraphy was written using a fine brush during the illustration process. 101 Figure 3.4.4.4.D The last rubá’i of the Winter Scroll is written in free-form calligraphy. The compositional curve of the writing follows the shape of the mandala and the horizon reflected in the down-turned glass of the illustration. In order to prevent the script from competing for dominance with the ornate mandala behind the main illustration, I used a very simple script in a darker shade of the blue it is written on,

While all other free-form calligraphy was easy to transcribe into the scrolls I had issues with the composition of QLXXV (Figure 3.4.4.4.D). These issues pivoted on balancing the writing above the image so that it was evenly centred. I attempted to write outward from the centre of each line to achieve this. Writing from the centre to the right was simple, the spacing occurred naturally as handwriting, however, I had great difficulty in maintaining the spacing while writing the words letter-by-letter from right to left. The awkwardness of this resulted in my having to dampen and lift out my first two ungainly attempts. Fortunately the particular pigment I had chosen, Windsor & Newton Cotman’s Cerulean Blue, could be readily lifted from the paper surface. I finally solved the issue by writing each word out on a slip of paper and holding it above the area that I was working on to guide my spacing as I wrote from left to right.

Figure 3.4.4.6 Draft of QLXXV denoting centre of the lines.

Free-form-Cartouche The fifth free-form script is situated a third of the way into the Winter Scroll. It is an evolution of the main calligraphic script used in the scrolls that integrates a ceremonial style of Turkish script known as Tughra’i. Tughra’i were used for the ceremonial signatures and seals of Turkish Sultans during the Ottoman period (Scott, 2001; Porter, 2003); the vertical lines of this decorative text are elongated, bisecting multiple lines of script to form a row of ‘banners’ that fill otherwise empty spaces Figure( 3.4.4.7A). This creates a rhythm reminiscent of Western sheet music and, if one is pre-inclined to see them as I am, telegraph poles lined up across a landscape.

To adapt the Tughra’i style to suit the English alphabet I explored extending the ascenders and descenders of my letters to connect subsequent lines of writing. An example of this can be observed on the next page where the vertical strokes of letters connect the individual words: art/shalt/Nothing/shalt/less (Figure 3.4.4.7.C). I extended the dashes from 102

Figure 3.4.4.7(Left) A Tughra’i style script, Bengal, c. 1480. (A). (Middle) Adapting the Tughra’i style to suit the English alphabet (Sk1.p48)(B). (Right) The calligraphic adaptation in the Winter Scroll (2013)(C).

FitzGerald’s original text to balance areas of white space in the above composition. This particular free-form script was not finalised until the rubá’i of all of the smaller cartouches had been written into the scrolls. My experience in composing the smaller cartouches was of great assistance for drafting out this larger composition in my sketchbook (Sk4.p48-49).

This free-form composition is the only instance of pen-based calligraphy in which I transferred text to the scroll as a pencil drawing to the final line-work before writing. This form of pre-drafting was necessary to ensure the alignment of the vertical strokes. To write it I used the same nib width and general methods as those I used for the main cartouche calligraphy. Once the words were written and were fully dry the underlying graphite was gently erased.

Reflections As is often the case, in hindsight there are several things I would revise if I were to remake the scrolls. The primary issue is in the cartouche calligraphy. My calligraphic script works well but the fixed size of the cartouches has resulted in occasional awkward compositions. This is exacerbated in instances where I had overlapped the text space with illustration, further reducing the available writing surface. The worst example of this is visible in the image to the right, where I had to abbreviate the word “and” into an ampersand half hidden behind a leaf to fit it into the space (Figure 3.4.4.8). The gel pen proved to be much more effective than I had expected and, had I realised its potential for writing directly onto the unsealed kōzo paper earlier, I certainly would have utilised it for a greater Figure 3.4.4.8 An instance of text part of the text. cramping due to excess encroachment of illustration. 103 3.4.4.3 Developing the woodblocks’ script-font The two earliest woodblock designs used generic fonts readily available on my computer. For the Tamam Shud design I used the font Skia for its similarity in shape and line-weight to the surrounding geometric patterns (Figure 3.4.4.9.A). For the raster-based bat design used Myriad Pro as a text place-holder while I considered my options for the final designs (Figure 3.4.4.9.B).

A B Figure 3.4.4.9. Detail from Tamam Shud print, font: Skia (A) and detail from the first draft of Bat design, font :Myriad Pro (B).

On further reflection I decided that, as my illustration was designed to convey a sense of the hand-executed, using an existing mechanical font did not aesthetically suit my work. However, I also desired the text to be more polished than I perceived my handwriting to be. I considered creating a digital font based on the calligraphy used in The Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls. As I had no prior experience, nor had done any research into typography, I investigated the basics of typographic design (Lupton, 2010; Bringhurst, 2008). I also attended a typographical workshop in Newcastle, October 2013. The knowledge I accumulated from this research emphasised that, to remain within the scope of my creative project and my schedule, it was necessary to radically simplify my plans.

I returned to traditional media, experimenting with writing out the rubáiyát using the style of script I had developed for the fifth free-form composition Figure( 3.4.4.7). While aesthetically suitable in appearance I recognised a significant amount of time would be needed to perfect the construction of each rubá’i in this style using entirely traditional methods. At this point I recognised that my experience in handwriting the scrolls, a process that had required all writing to be done manually, had temporarily blinded me to the fact this was not necessary for the Kúza-Náma illustrations. I realised that it would be very appropriate to compose the rubá’i by using a combination of traditional- media and digital manipulation, as this was how I had created my illustrations. Instead of attempting to write out each rubá’i perfectly and then scan them I realised I could construct the calligraphic composition digitally, letter-by-letter, from a selection of hand- written calligraphic samples.

To test the viability of this idea I wrote out all of the letters required for one of the Kúza- Náma rubá’i using the same calligraphy nib-pen I had used for the scroll script. Each 104 letter was repeated until a suitable type-specimen was achieved and then I digitised the sketchbook page on which they were written. In Adobe Photoshop I composed a rubá’i (LXI) from the type-specimens (Figure 3.4.4.10).

Figure 3.4.4.10 Examples of the first digital composition (left) and original traditional media calligraphic type- specimens (right), (Sk4.78).

This prototype revealed that the concept was not only practical but worked well. It suggested changes to individual letters to regularise the visual rhythm of the script and alternative ligatures (connections) between letters. I amended the unsatisfactory letters and wrote out the other capital letters and characters required for the other rubáiyát and digitising them. I also made rough compositions of these verses in my sketchbook (Figure 3.4.4.11).

Figure 3.4.4.11 Detail of Sk4.p78-80.

At this point I abandoned the concept of using a cartouche as the dense composition of the calligraphy itself provided sufficient weight to draw the eye. By placing the writing directly over the background colour of the print, the rubáiyát became a part of the illustration rather than resting above it, as a separate layer that was further isolated by line. I digitally reworked my prototype using the new letters and then constructed the other eight rubáiyát. These compositions were altered from my rough pen compositions as other natural connections between letters became evident in the construction process. 105 On-screen guidelines provided the vertical spacing between lines of text but all of the kerning was done by eye. This, along with the variation in the heights of the ascenders and descenders and the unique connections created between words in each line, reinforces the non-mechanical appearance of the script-font.

Having completed all of nine rubáiyát, I printed out and scrutinised the compositions. Distracting ligatures, unbalanced letter forms and ‘rivers’ (white spaces in the text) were identified and solutions noted Sk4.p85-93)( . The compositions were amended based on these notations (Figure 3.4.4.12).

Figure 3.4.4.12 Three of the nine finished Script-font compositions.

The script-font of the Kúza-Náma designs is a digital evolution of the Tughra’i style cartouche script. The evolution of my combination of digital and traditional calligraphic techniques parallels my explorative process with the illustrations of the Kúza-Náma. Both fluctuated between digital and traditional media to settle on a combination that supported and fed into the other practice. The result has been elegant digital-calligraphy compositions that embellish rather than detract from the surrounding illustrations. These text compositions are aesthetically viable outside of the context of their original illustrations and this suggests future directions of exploration and application.

This chapter, and the content of the accompanying Image Appendices DVD, gives an overview of the sheer volume of research that supports the final creative works. I have covered my methods of reference collection, my selection of material, the development of the illustration techniques used in the creative work and the specific processes involved in producing The Hunter Rubáiyát. Having established how these creative works were created, I now move on to a sequential and detailed description of their content. 106 Chapter Four - The Illustration Content Annotated

“And this delightful Herb whose tender green Fledges the River’s Lip on which we lean-” (QXIX)

The following chapter annotates the content of The Hunter Rubáiyát illustrations. This description includes the scene locations, species names and behaviours, and other relevant information that connects the imagery to the text that are not be immediately apparent when viewing the illustrations. This background information enriches the viewing of the artworks, and further demonstrates the range and nature of the field research conducted for this project. Additional information on the sites and species can be found in Appendix B.1 - Fieldwork Sites and Appendix C.1 - Species List.

4.1 Persian puns and literary references in the scrolls My research into the history of the Rubáiyát and FitzGerald’s other Persian translations provided a background knowledge of the rubáiyát well beyond that of a layperson. FitzGerald himself included a glossary of many, though not all, of the Persian words used in his Rubáiyát (Decker, 1997; FitzGerald, 1937). Many of the Persian characters and places mentioned in the poem would also be unknown to the greater part of my audience. Rustum: a Persian Hercules, Jamshýd: a Persian equivalent of King Solomon, and Irám: a garden of fable, while invoking an exotic and archaic flavour, do not readily translate into an Australian landscape. Rather than attempt to force literal representations of these exotic figures into the illustrations, I included subtle visual references to the characters. These take the form of several visual puns or in-jokes. Most of these are discussed as I progress sequentially through the content of the creative work. However, as two of these are particularly subtle and span more than one section of the artwork, to discuss them in the sequence of descriptions would be awkward; therefore I briefly address them here: In the middle of the Autumn-Winter scroll a rubá’i states “Oh the brave music of a distant drum” (QXII). I depict two drums amidst the illustrations. Playing on an alternate interpretation of the word, I show forty-gallon drums rather than those used for musical percussion. The first is shown amidst the pile of rubbish near the rubá’i that mentions it; the second is truly “distant”: situated near the end of the scroll and partially submerged in flood water. Forty gallon drums are a common sight locally in agricultural, industrial and, unfortunately, some wildlife areas in the Hunter Valley Region.

Another poem, late in the second scroll, states “and Jamshýd’s sev’n ringed cup where no one knows.” (QV). Jamshýd’s cup is described as a grail-like artefact, capable of foretelling the future (Decker, 2007). I painted it into the lower left corner of the otherwise pristine graveyard in the middle of the Winter Scroll. I depicted this legendary vessel as a disposable coffee cup, discarded and unregarded. By the time the viewer reads the poem that describes it they have long since passed by the cup without recognition; without being informed that it is hidden in the artwork a reader would not know to look for it. 107 4.2 The Summer Scroll The first scroll opens with the pre-dawn ocean and a sea-ward view from Stockton bridge that includes a section of the Stockton Peninsula and, beyond it on the Southern side of Newcastle Harbour, Nobby’s Beach, Flagstaff Hill and Fort Scratchley. These landmarks are all situated at the mouth of the Hunter River.

The muted colours of the sky and the froth of the sea foam were chosen to evoke the mental ‘fuzziness’ of rousing from a dreaming state to support the content of the first two rubáiyát. The flat illustration style applied to the wave is a direct tribute to the influence that Japanese design has had on my compositions, as are the three simplified birds’ silhouettes to the base of the first rubá’i. These birds evoke the motif of “Plover and Waves” which appears frequently in Japanese art. This motif has literary connections to another harbour: that of Osaka Bay (previously Naniwa Bay), Japan (Konishi, 1999).

The shape of the birds in my depiction are based loosely on the anatomy of a Tern rather than a Plover. Several species of Tern are seasonally present on Newcastle’s coast. The similarity in sound between the word “Tern” and the “Tavern” of the accompanying rubá’i is an intentional play on words. These birds represent the nearby Stockton Sand-spit and Kooragang RAMSAR wetlands sites. The wetlands are an important migratory site and include seasonal species from Japan, China and Alaska (Stuart, 2001); they were also one of the focal fieldwork sites during my undergraduate NHI degree.

Fort Scratchley’s white buildings provided a local landmark for the “Sultan’s Tower [caught] in a noose of light”(I) created by dawn reflected on bands of cloud. The foaming wave in the foreground illustrates the “Water [flowing] Willy-Nilly”(XXIX) and forms a border between the ocean and the industrial equipment of the next scene. The depicted cranes and coal-loading machinery were observed from the roadside in Tomago, an industrial suburb on the northern side of the Hunter River. The structures of the cranes provide a rhythm of geometric patterns that emphasise the accompanying rubá’i’s description of measurement and order. Coal, and, in modern times, coal-loaders are a tangible part of Newcastle’s commercial, historical and visual identity. This section has rectangular rather than oval cartouches, a compositional device I use to emphasise the presence of human infrastructure. The rectangular cartouches appear in another two scenes in this scroll but do not appear in the Winter Scroll.

The industrial scene gives way to a view of the salt marshes of Ash Island. The darker vegetation depicted in the background consists of grey mangroves (Avicennia marina). This species borders the lower part of the Hunter River where they have not been removed for industrial infrastructure. The grass clump to the left of this scene is a feral species: Spiny Rush (Juncus acutus), while the plant species on the left is a native: Samphire (Sarcocornia quinqueflora). The butterfly resting on the Spiny Rush is a female Orchard Butterfly Papilio( aegeus). This is a locally common species observable in open grass 108 habitats (Braby, 2004). The striking contrast of its wings overlap but fail to fully “drown the memory of this impertinence” (QXXX). The impertinence is represented by both the industrial equipment and the rubbish littered beneath the rushes.

The bell tower of the Maitland Court House illustrates the “Dark Tower” (QXXIV) of the next rubá’i. The Court House infers the figure of Justice, referring to the judgement of the Muezzin: “Fools your Reward is neither Here nor There”(QXXIV). The presence of the birds flying around the tower refer to anecdotal issues that have occurred with feral pigeon (Colomba livia) infestations in Maitland heritage buildings. Maitland Regional Art Gallery, the site of my main exhibition of the creative work, is one of those pigeon inflicted buildings. The visual explosion of the birds also adds a mental noise to the scene; the stutter of pigeons frightened on to the wing provides an additional visual resonance in illustrating the sudden and percussive voice from the tower.

The silhouettes of the birds deteriorate into pixels and the scene transitions into pasture lands based on those observed along the Bucketts Way, Lower Hunter Valley. The thorn bushes rambling along the bottom of the scene are briar roses (Rosa canina), garden escapees which can be seen growing along numerous agricultural roadsides in the region. Though without blossom, the briars remain ready to tear at the “thread-bare Penitence”(QLXX) mentioned in the accompanying rubá’i. These brambles also provide a further tangle of wilderness to reinforce the bacchanal theme of carousing with the “Daughter of the Vine” (QXL). The Willy Wagtail (Rhipidura leucophrys), despite the accompanying words “the Bird is on the Wing” (VII), remains perched until the reader winds him out of sight. The cabbage butterfly Pieris( rapae) in his beak, however, has flown its last.

The briars give way to a diversity of weed species lining the nearside of a waterway. This scene is based on the Hunter River near Morpeth where there is little or no buffer land between the pastures and the littoral zone. The far side of the river bank illustrates “barren reason” (QXL) through the damage caused by overgrazing and erosion. Through the foreground’s weedy riot, the “Moon of my delight”(LXXIV) is just visible as a broken reflection on the water surface, partially obscured by the dried twigs of Wild Fennel (Foeniculum vulgare) and miscellaneous intrusive weed species. As with the garden described in the rubá’i, the inference is that the moon will continue to look down long after the weeds, fence-posts, reader and the river itself, have ceased to exist. In the background a metallic gold sky reflects the wealth traditionally associated with land ownership and agriculture.

A stylised swirl of cloud provides a border between the riverbank and the next scene. The “Saints and Sages”(XXV) of the accompanying rubá’i are represented by a montage of institutional buildings. The two churches are St Mary’s Anglican Church, Church Street, Maitland (left) and Singleton Presbyterian Church, Elizabeth St, Singleton (right). They are used here to represent religious and educational institutions, referring to the origins of universities and schools from monasteries. Singleton Court House (bottom right) represents government and law. The Stroud Post Office (upper left) represents communication 109 and community infrastructure. All the buildings reflect architectural styles familiar to the region. The purple trees in this scene are Jacaranda (Jacaranda mimosifolia) in full blossom. The purple foliage indicates that the scene is set in October-November. Though this species originates from South America, it is widely used in the major townships of the Hunter Valley Region as an ornamental shade tree (The Royal Botanic Gardens and Domain Trust, 2014).

Overlapping the institutions a is a Morton Bay Fig (Ficus macrophylla) tree containing a Rose-crowned Fruit-Dove (Ptilinopus regina) that is gorging on fruit. In the background vineyards stretch away over the slopes. Reference specimens for the fig were collected on University of Newcastle’s Callaghan campus and around Newcastle city, where the species is commonly used in recreational parks and lining roadways. The bird was drawn from mounted specimens held by the University of Newcastle’s Natural History Illustration Research Laboratory Collections (NHIRLC) and live animals were photographed at the Australian Reptile Park, NSW. The focus of this scene, and the bird, is on the immediately available fruit, ignoring the vineyards in the background which are not yet bearing fruit. The background landscape is based on the wineries of the Millfield region of the Lower Hunter Valley.

The large area of blank paper in the foreground of the following scene is a conscious compositional device intended to channel the viewer towards the entrance of the pub, The Maitland Station Hotel. This scene focuses on the rubá’i’s lines “One glimpse of it (understanding) within the Tavern caught, Better than in the Temple lost outright.” (QLV I). The ‘one-way’ sign was an incidental element added from my reference photographs and provides a subtle, though debatable, instruction as to the direction in which to proceed.

Beyond the Tavern the scene returns to focus on the foreground and the challenge of interpreting the word caravanserai visually. Caravanserai describes an inn or hostelry (Sykes, 1980). An early and discarded concept for this scene involved an abandoned modern caravan overgrown by vegetation. Instead the caravanserai is depicted as a hollow tree stump. Tree hollows and logs provide important habitat for small animals, which both host and feed a succession of different species often well beyond the lifetime of the original tree. The frog depicted in this scene is Peron’s Tree frog (Litoria peronii), a common and audible species in the Newcastle area. Sharing the far side of the tree stump, and looking forward into the next scene, is a moulting Robust Ctenotus (Ctenotus robusta) which illustrates the “robe of honour shed” (QLXXI) in the accompanying rubá’i. These lizards are common locally. I have observed their presence in the coastal heaths of Southern Newcastle, in Blackbutt Reserve, at the University of Newcastle campus, and in the garden-laundry of my suburban house. 110 The landscape behind the ctenotus is based on a combination of the pastoral lands below the Barrington Tops and the rolling grasslands of the Stroud Region. The tree bearing the rusting key that “unlocks the Door”(QLV) is the locally common spotted gum (Eucalyptus maculata). The spotted purple flower stem that follows it is a Hyacinth orchid Diuris( punctata). This native species provides an alternative to the hyacinth mentioned in the nearby rubá’i. These orchids are an annual summer flowering species. Succeeding this solitary native flower stem is a carpeting mass of leaves and blossoms from a particularly fecund and noxious weed species called Resurrection Plant (Bryophyllum pinnatum). The line “a thousand blossoms” (QVIII) originally prompted research into “Mother of Millions” (Bryophyllum delagoense) but Resurrection Plant, a close relative, proved more aesthetically suitable and accessible for collecting samples. The bright cadmium yellow and orange background depict colours I associate with high Summer temperatures.

Crowded to the right of the Resurrection Plant is a Golden Guinea Flower (Hibbertia scandens), a scrambling vine that is common and widespread from Sydney to the Queensland border (Robinson, 2003). Hibbertia blossoms are one of the few Australian native species with a similar floral structure to the wild roses of English hedgerows. The “Guinea” of their common name refers to an obsolete form of British currency. The species habit of readily shedding its petals, along with the bright gold colour of the flower, readily illustrates the rose of the rubá’i unstintingly showering of its “Treasure on the Garden”(QXIII).

Behind and above the Hibbertia, a Persian-doorway inspired frame looks out across another view of the Hunter River bordered by willow trees (Salix sp.). Willows are an introduced species common on the banks of the Hunter River and other smaller waterways throughout the Hunter Valley Region. In the foreground of this section a small but brightly plumed predatory bird is depicted instead of the usual drab representation of a winged humanoid figure for “[t]he Angel with his darker draught” (QXLVIII). This bird is a Sacred Kingfisher Todiramphus( sanctus), a woodland species that hunts over land rather than water. Its prey, a Wood Gecko (Diplodactylus vittatus), is one of the few diurnal species of gecko found locally.

The vine-perch of the kingfisher provides a border between scenes and the nextrubá’i is carved into the trunk of the Small-leaved Fig (Ficus obliqua) rather than presented in the usual cartouche. At the base of this tree discarded plastic sandwich casings, wine and beer bottles provide modern equivalents of the “Loaf of Bread […and…] Flask of Wine”(QXI). These rubbish items , along with the botanical vandalism, are also physical traces of the presence of human visitors.

The rubá’i carved into the tree in particular draws attention to humanity’s apparent need to leave a tangible mark of their presence on their surroundings. This treatment was inspired in part by a specific “Footrot Flats” comic panel (Ball, 1984, p. 39) in which the main character, upon seeing a huge and ancient tree, cries out at its magnificence and the 111 fact that it will continue to exist long after he is deceased. He then proceeds to gouge his name into the trunk with a pocket-knife. The character attempts to create a modicum of immortality by defacing an object he perceives as having a far greater permanence than himself.

The second tree in this section is a Strangler Fig (Ficus watkinsonia). This species, as the name suggests, grows up other trees, eventually enveloping and killing their hosts. The host plant here has rotted away in my depiction, leaving the Strangler Fig as a hollow structure. In the foreground a beetle (Amarygmus sp.) consumes the dropped fruit of a Sandpaper Fig (Ficus coronata).

The reference for the Damselfly Xanthagrion( erythroneurum) perched to the right of the Strangler fig was collected during fieldwork on the banks of the Upper Hunter River. Twilight reinforces the melancholy and hushed atmosphere of the rubá’i and provides a transition space from the daylight of the previous section into night of the next.

The lines “a blind Understanding” (QXXXIII), inspired my illustration of Gould’s Wattled Bat (Chalinolobus gouldii) in flight that dominates the twilight sky. The association of image and word is based on the common but false myth regarding the blindness of bats. This particular insectivorous microbat begins foraging early in the evening. It is both common and widespread across Australia (Churchill, 2003).

The full moon provides a face for both the “rolling Heav’n” and the “Lamp” of Destiny (QXXXIII), illuminating a nocturnal aerial view of the Hunter River and three White Stemmed Wattle Moths (Chelepteryx chelypteryx) in flight. The silvery bends of the river provide an alternate interpretation for both the “Snake” (QLVIII) and “the Road I was to wander in” (QLVII). The presence of the Wattle Moths allude to both the short-lived mortals that “crawling coop’t […] live and Die” (QLII) and the “Snare Of Perfume shall fling up into the air” (QLXVIII) . The latter springs from my mental connection between pheromones and lepidoptera behaviour.

The nocturnal setting terminates in a vertical roil of stylised clouds. This border also separates the final scene of theSummer Scroll into three horizontal sections. This scene depicts shop-lined streets from Cessnock (top) Stroud (centre) and Maitland (bottom), showing the rear of the buildings rather than their commercial fronts. All of the rubáiyát of this last section focus on the theme of ceramic vessels and clay. To illustrate them I depicted buildings with visible brickwork in their construction -- a direct reference to the clay of the rubáiyát. These buildings present a variety of shapes, colours and styles of architecture that give them an individuality in keeping with the poem’s concept of clay vessels representing humanity. Windows and doors readily form faces, further anthropomorphising the structures. Though these buildings are situated on a separate scroll from the Kúza-Náma, they reflect the opening lines in the next scroll that describe “the clay population round in Rows.”(QLIX). 112 4.3 The Winter Scroll The second scroll opens with the first rubá’i of the Kúza-Náma which advises “Listen Again…” (QLIX), picking up again on the ceramic focused narrative that ended the first scroll.

In the Winter Scroll the theme of vessels is illustrated by naturally-occurring containers and species with container-related common names. The first of these is a Potters Wasp (Paralastor sp.) which carries a caterpillar to be interred in a clay receptacle. The caterpillar itself will become a vessel for the wasp’s larvae. A cluster of insect eggs, each a container in its own right, are adhered to a eucalyptus leaf above the wasp. The leaves are succeeded by abandoned Bottle Swallow (Petrochelidon ariel) nests, Birds Nest fungus (Cyathus novaezelandiae), snail shells and moulted pupa shells of cicada. Each of these natural containers are used and then discarded during the life cycles of these species.

The hunched and awkward shapes of the abandoned cicada pupa shell casings illustrate the “vessel of more ungainly shape” (QLXIII). This is intended to draw attention to the fact that though insects are very different in anatomy from vertebrates, their lives are also governed by time, chance, and, like all life, inevitably end in death. The species depicted by their shells are, from left to right, Red-eye Cicada (Psaltoda moerens), Black Prince (Psaltoda argenta), Green Grocer (Cyclochila australasiae), Floury Baker (Abricta curvicosta) Cherry-nose or Whiskey Drinker (Macrotristria angularis) and Double drummer (Thopha saccata) (Moulds, 1990). All of these cicada were referenced from specimens in the Harold Brenton Insect Collection held by the NHIRLC. I associate cicada with metamorphosis and their calls evoke the height of Summer. The abundance of shed skins and dead adult specimens, along with the end of their songs for that year, punctuate the change of season.

The fibrous bark on which these cicada shells rest is based on the Broad-leaved Ironbark (Eucalyptus fibrosa) growing outside the University of Newcastle Design Building. The surface was selected for its texture. The star and hexagon patterns illuminating the background is based on an architectural pattern from a tiled walkway in the Taj Mahal (Sk3.p24-25). This design was chosen for being both reminiscent of snake-skin, evoking another animal that sheds its outer skin as it matures, and astronomy, referring to one of Omar Khayyám’s fields of interest.

The noise of the “Porter’s shoulder-knot a-creaking” (QLXVI) is illustrated by a live adult Yellow Monday cicada (a colour variant of the Green Grocer species ) The illustration accompanying the final rubá’i of the Kúza-Náma visually expands on the rhyming “sigh”,”dry,” and “by and bye”(QLXV), punctuating the sequence of words with the assonant body of a dead “Red-eye” cicada (Psaltoda moerens). This specific cicada depiction also emphasises that, while the vessel in the verse thinks it may recover, the eventual reality is death. 113 The abundant pink fruit in the middle of this scene is a Lilly Pilly (Syzigium australis), a widespread native species. This genus is commonly used as an ornamental tree in Northern, Central and South Australia as well as in the Hunter Valley Region. The text in this section is one of the instances of free form calligraphy. This writing inverts the trend of cartouche colours by writing in white pigment on a black background.

The open pasture land that dominates the next scene is based on the view between Dungog and Vacy, NSW. Crawling ants and the scattered dead tree stumps illustrate the “black Horde”(QXLIV). The original concept sketch (sk2.p31) included a farmer with a shovel, representing Mahmud and his enchanted sword, but this was edited out of the final illustration. The birds overhead are Scaly-breasted Lorikeets Trichoglossus( chlorolepdotus), a species found in both agricultural and forested habitats (Pizzey & Knight, 1997).

Train tracks bisect this scene, these are based on the rail lines west of Waratah station, Newcastle. Both coal and commuter trains are depicted in the illustration. The White Clover (Trifolium repens) that overlaps the train lines is a locally abundant introduced species. It can be readily found on sporting ovals, lawns and disturbed ground. The plant and its attendant, native blue-banded bees (Amegilla cingulata) provide a visual pun for “if TODAY be[e] Sweet” (QXXXVII), drawing on the phrase “rolling in clover” and it’s inference of wealth and happiness.

To the right of the clover are bands of bare earth, the focal point of this scene is the calligraphy of the rubá’i itself. This is written in a larger style that interconnects the words. Above the cartouche is a simple, stylised, and drab plain contained by a horizontally rectangular frame and depicts the approaching storm clouds. Below the cartouche the ripe fruit of the Native Laurel (Pittosporum undulatum) splits open to reveal the luscious red flesh and seeds. This native species thrives on disturbed soil and urban run off (Robinson, 2003).

The stylised plain transitions into the spoil heaps and the open ground of a mine site. The background is dominated by a crimson and gold diamond checkered background inspired by the ornate patterns found in the 15th century French manuscript Le Livre de la Chasse, in English: Gaston Phoebus’ Book of Hunting (Bise, 1978). The yellow mining vehicle, as with the rest of this scene provides a general representation of the mining industry rather than a realistic depiction of a specific activity.

Overlaid across the mine-scape are a pair of framed bordered scenes. The first is graveyard based on photographs taken at the multiple denominational cemeteries situated between Maitland and Thornton. The depiction of the graveyard plays on the Persian homonym in Bahrám Gur’s name. Gur means both a wild ass and a grave (Decker, 1997). The second is a view of a rubbish tip based on my observation of illegal dumping. Within the jumble of abandoned objects are further visual references to the rubá’iyát’s mythic Persian figures; 114 Rustum, riding a horse, is represented on the sticker of a forty-gallon drum’s yellow sticker; Hatim Tai, famed for his hospitality, is represented by the abandoned esky. The esky also provides a modern visual equivalent to the classical cornucopia and the pink mattress offers a softer bed than that of Bahrám Gur. The other names in these rubáiyát refer to dynastic kings that are not represented here. These two overlapping frames juxtapose the difference between the care with which human remains are interred and the irreverent way unwanted items are frequently discarded about the landscape.

Figure 4.2.1 Visual References to Rustum and Hatim Tai.

The Morning Glory (Ipomoea indica) that overgrows these frames is an introduced species that has become a weed in some places. The common name of this plant reflects its ephemeral beauty. As with the listed kings “Jamshýd”(QXVII), “Kaikobád and Kaikhosrú” (QIX), each flower’s time passes, succeeded and forgotten by subsequent generations. After completing my composition, I observed that Morning Glory also appear in Vedder’s compositions (Murray 2009).

To the right of the tangled Morning Glory is an abstract landscape made up of three low contrast patterns that are based on Persian, Japanese and Celtic designs. These illuminate rather than illustrate the scene which is chronologically placed in the middle of Winter. The frosty words of “shatter”(QLXXIII) and “snow on the desert’s dusty face” (QXIV) are reinforced with a cool colour palette and sharp, swirling geometric forms. The interlocking key pattern is based on a knife hilt I observed at the Hinata museum, Takayama, Japan; the star pattern is based on a fence depicted in a Persian manuscript, the British Library’s Or.2285 fol.77v (Canby, 1999); the celtic swirls originate from design elements in the Book of Kells (Bernard, 2012).

An Ironbark (Eucalyptus sp.) provides a border between the winter patterns and the next scene. The leafy epicormic branches sprouting from its charred trunk indicates regrowth after a bush fire. This image is succeeded by a colony of Grey-headed Flying Foxes (Pteropus poliocephalus) roosting on bare tree branches at dusk. This species of fruit bat is one of the most visible, and certainly audible, local bat species. When at rest, as depicted in the illustration, these bats wrap their wings around their bodies giving 115 them the appearance of pendulous dolmades (stuffed grape leaves), reflecting therubá’i’s description “in a Windingsheet of Vine-leaf wrapt”(LXVII). The nearest bat’s mouth is opened in a vocalisation that mocks the nearby line “sans song” (QXXIII) .

Behind the bats the sky darkens into night and clouds roll over an scene of rolling hills. “Parwín and Mushtara” (QLIV) mentioned in the accompanying rubá’i refer to the astronomical bodies of the pleiades and Jupiter (Decker, 1997) which are not depicted. Swirling mist separates the nocturnal and diurnal aerial views of pasture lands. These views are evocative of giant patchwork quilts and irregularly gridded chessboards, providing apt visuals for the “Chequer-board of Nights and Days”(QXLIX). This landscape is based on observations from high vantage points around Pokolbin and Cessnock. Above, the illuminated rays of the sun provide a second and more ornate checkered pattern. The use of the rich blue is based on illuminations from the French 15th century manuscript Les tres riches heures du Duc de Berry, in English: The Rich Book of Hours of the Duke de Berry (Pogon, 1979). The illuminated checker pattern in the sky is inspired by other, earlier medieval manuscripts (Avril, 1978). To the bottom of the landscape are three Eastern Rosellas (Platycercus eximius) in flight.

The two scenes that follow this open landscape are the only figurative depictions of humans in the entire creative work. The first depicts children playing soccer, illustrating “The Ball…tossed…down into the Field”(QL). The style of painting depicting the three children is intentionally flat and stylised as they are not intended to represent any specific individual but to infer an every-child/any-child. I depicted the second scene’s four construction workers in bulky high-vis clothing in order to obscure the individual figures and again, make them more icon than individual. The cultural background and gender of each of these humans is left open to my audience’s interpretation.

The earth-moving machine watched by the construction workers excavates whatever it was that “buried once, Men want dig up again” (QXV). In the foreground the “ancient Ruby”(QV) of the vine is interpreted as Native Raspberry (Rubus rosifolius), a red berried scrambling vine that, like the earlier Pittosporum, can be found growing in some disturbed soils. The ground of this scene gives way to flood waters and the next focal point: a Lace Monitor (Varanus varius) scrabbling for safety up the trunk of a Scribbly Gum (Eucalyptus haemastoma). In the background, the pattern in the clouds is based on a tiled walkway in the Taj Mahal (Lochtefeld, 2005). The source of this pattern was Islamic but not specifically Persian, however it shares the star-shaped theme, again acknowledging Khayyám’s career.

The flood scenery behind the Lace Monitor is informed by archive photographs of the 1955 Maitland flood (University of Newcastle Library, 2013). To the right, the calmer water gives way to wetlands. This scene is informed by my observations of the Hunter Wetlands, Shortland, and the marsh that borders the Northern boundaries of University of Newcastle’s Callaghan campus. The black bird stalking the shallows is an Australasian 116 Coot (Fulica atra) and the songbird to the right is a Golden Headed Cisticola (Cisticola exilis). The puffed throat and open beak of this bird silently provides the song for which the narrator has “sold [his] Reputation” (QLXIX). The simple blue roundel behind the cisticola’s head is a precursor to the full mandala that punctuates the final section of the scroll.

The final scene of the scroll illustrates the turn“ [ed] down …empty Glass” and the “guests Star-scatter’d on the Grass” of the last rubá’i. The crests of the sulphur-crested cockatoos (Cacatua galerita) are not raised in this depiction but a viewer familiar with the species can visualise the buttery yellow half-star shapes of their erect crests. The vocalisations of cockatoos also invokes the babble of voices at a social gathering.

The mandala behind the scene is based on the illuminated folio 2r page of the Ouseley 140 Manuscript from the Sir William Ouseley collection, held by the Bodleian library, Oxford (Bodleian Library, 2013). This Iranian manuscript was the original source of the transcription from which FitzGerald based most of his first edition. There is no record that the author ever saw the delicately illuminated floral and geometric patterns of this document himself. I have yet to encounter any other Rubáiyát illustrations that make a direct visual reference to these illuminations.

The down-turned modern wine glass offered a challenge in painting the reflected landscape in its curves. This also provides a direct reference to the wine industry of the Hunter. This glass, and the disposable paper cup in the graveyard scene are the only two literal depictions of drinking vessels in the entire creative work.

The text for this rubá’i is written in blue paint directly onto the sky above the scene. The concave curve of the writing mirrors the concave rows of the vineyard in the background. White Clover emphasises one final time the sweetness of the present as the final lines of the Rubáiyát and Buttercups (Ranunculus repens) offer the reader one last cup before they finish and have to rewind the scrolls. 117 4.4 Visual content of the Kúza-Náma

The Kúza-Náma designs focus on illustrating the sensory descriptions and activities described in the rubáiyát rather than repeating The Hunter Rubáiyát Scroll’s depiction of physical vessels. Examples of textual prompts from the Kúza-Náma include listening, jogging (bumping), shaking, filling with juice and creeping to rest. A secondary theme, that of the five senses, provided an additional focusing mechanism for refining the illustration content.

The fiveKúza-Náma designs: Sulphur-crested Cockatoos and Sound The first Kúza-Náma design depicts seven sulphur-crested cockatoos (Cacatua galerita) perched on a series of sweeping telegraph lines. Two telegraph poles bracket the composition. At the top of the image is a circular white cartouche with a ring of vessels that surround the first part of the series. The first words “Listen again…” prompted my associating this design with the sense of sound. The cockatoos, by their presence and raised crests, also indicate noise. This species is generally cacophonous in their foraging, flight and perched behaviour. The lower right corner contains my signature and the word “Sound” in English. The top right corner of the design contains the word “音” (Oto) - Japanese for sound or noise.

Moth, Wattle & Scent The second Kúza-Náma design depicts a blossom-heavy branch of Flax-leafed Wattle (Acacia linifolia). This is the only Kúza-Náma image with seasonally indicative content. The presence of the flowers indicate a time between December and April. The butterfly resting on the leaves to the top of the image is a Common Grass Blue (Zizina labradus). The species is silvery-blue and was selected as a contrasting colour to the bright yellow of the wattle blossom. The association between fragrance and Lepidoptera referred to in The Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls is repeated here. The part pheromones play in moth behaviour and the aromatic nature of wattle blossom make them both particularly well suited to illustrating the sense of “Smell”. At the bottom right of the image is the English word Scent. To the left bottom corner is my signature and the Japanese character for aroma: 薫 (kaori).

Wasp, Mangroves and Sight The third design shows a Potter’s Wasp (Paralastor sp.) in flight over an open waterscape that is based on views of Chichester Dam and the Hunter River. In the distance, partially obscured by a rubá’i and vegetation, is a single telegraph pole with flotation devices on the wires that extend over the water. This illustration is the only one to contain three rubá’i. My signature is located at the top left of the image, to the bottom right the English word “Sight” is positioned under the Japanese text for the sense of vision: 視覚 (shikaku). 118 Bat, Grevillea and Taste The fourth design depicts a Little Red Flying-fox (Pteropus scapulatus) browsing on Grevillea blossoms (Grevillea sp.). This is the third depiction of Chiroptera in my creative work. Fruit bats are particularly suited to illustrating the content of the accompanying rubáiyát. The gnarled texture of bat’s wings and their creaky vocalisations suit the “Porter’s Shoulder-knot a-creaking”(QLXVI). The Little Red also suits it’s association with “the Porter” through its ecological role as a pollinator and seed distributor. Those who have observed fruit bats jostling for space on the branches of their roosting trees will recognise a similarity in the lines describing how the pots all “jogg’d each other”(QLXVI). The poem savouring “the old familiar Juice”(LXV) is illustrated by the bat lapping at the blossom. The English word “Taste” rests in the lower left of the image. Diagonally opposite in the top right corner is my signature. Accidentally omitted from the design was the Japanese for the sense of taste 味覚 (mikaku).

Lizard, Leaf-litter, and Touch The fifth and final design is an illustration of a large skinkCtenotus ( robustus) traversing leaf litter. This is the same species of lizard as depicted in the middle of the Summer Scroll. The leaf litter is a mixture of sclerophyll leaves, bark and twigs with a feather and an empty snail shell. The sense of touch that directed this design is expressed through tactile objects: the tapestry of leaf litter, the feather, the lizard skin and the smooth water surface. The poem’s lines “one by one crept silently to Rest”(QXXI) is repeated visually by the skink cautiously making its way through its surroundings.

As with the other designs a large portion of the illustration is dominated by the sky and telegraph lines. In this design, however those elements are a reflection in a puddle. This reflection gives way to translucency toward the bottom of the illustration, revealing submerged leaf litter. This feature of the image was inspired by Escher’s lithographic print “Three Worlds” (1955), depicting a fish swimming beneath floating leaves and reflected trees (Locher, 1982). In this design my signature appears in the top right corner, the English word “Touch” in the bottom left corner and the Japanese 触覚 (shokkaku) in the top left corner. 119 4.5 New Themes Past illustrations have emphasised the relevance of the poem to humanity but not to that of other life forms. The reality is that the themes of the poem: brevity, uncertainty and ultimately, termination, are true for all living things. The content of my illustrations reflects this view by focusing on non-human content and depicting biotic content in various states of existence: living, dead, decayed and regrown. I also explore the themes of uncertainty, and change, through a variety of landscapes, some of which are shown in the process of being transformed, examples of this can be seen in the mining and flood scenes of the Winter Scroll.

In addition to directly visually interpreting the content of the text and the existing themes of the rubáiyát, I have integrated elements of my personal ethos into The Hunter Rubáiyát. The main personal themes I have expressed through my creative work are natural wealth, the importance of environmental stewardship and communication across distance.

4.5.1 Wealth and responsibility The Rubáiyát is a text I associate with richness. This is not only the actual price of expensive bindings and rare editions, but also its historical association with an educated and influential readership, the lavish illustrations created for it and the philosophy promoted by the poem: that of retirement from society, an activity limited to those with sufficient income to do so. The verses contain multiple references to wealth. These are not entirely monetary and examples include “Take the Cash in hand” (QXII), “Life’s leaden Metal into Gold transmute” (QXLIII), “my Purse … its Treasure on the Garden throw” (QXIII), and “the Vine her ancient Ruby yields” (QV).

The setting of my creative work, the Hunter Valley Region, is a rich environment. This is not merely in the sense of economic wealth but also that of a historical, cultural and biological nature. My decision to use the Hunter Valley as the setting was initially influenced by the connection between the wine of the poem and the wineries of the region. However, as I developed the content of the illustrations these alternative interpretations of wealth increasingly became manifest in my illustration content. My background in NHI resulted in the translation of this theme of wealth becoming focused on appreciating the physical world and celebrating biodiversity.

In my interpretation I depict the local economic wealth through visual references to the coal and wine industry, cultural wealth through architecture, and environmental wealth through biodiversity. These figurative representations of wealth are further embellished by patterned backgrounds and metallic pigments. These ornamental treatments emphasise the wealth depicted in specific scenes as well as giving an overall sense of opulence to the creative work. 120 An additional theme of wealth I depict throughout my illustrations is that of water. I spent a significant part of my life in arid zones of Australia and Africa; this instilled a deep seated appreciation of water as a valuable resource. The Hunter Valley Region has an abundance, at times even an excess, of water in comparison to much of Australia. The content of the creative work celebrates the local availability of ground water and the biodiversity it engenders.

In addition to celebrating natural wealth The Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls depict various forms of historical and current human use of the land. Through the illustrations I draw attention to less positive elements of the here-and-now which are unmentioned by the poem. My illustrations include scenes of heavy industry, deforestation, land degradation, weed infestation, environmental vandalism and agricultural infrastructure. A number of the natural areas in the illustrations also have subtle reminders of the presence of humanity. These appear in the form of litter, boundary fences and similar incidental man- made objects. By including this content, I remind the viewer of the ongoing effect that we have on the landscape. In doing this I hope to inspire my audience to be increasingly active in the stewardship of their local environments

4.5.2 Connection across distance - Telegraph lines Modern Australia is physically, culturally and chronologically distant from the situations of both of the creators of the text, and the majority of past illustrators. Despite this the written content of the Rubáiyát remains relevant, connecting readers across centuries and continents. My awareness of this connection, reinforced by the distances within Australia itself, fed directly into the development of the creative project’s content.

Telegraph poles, in modern usage more correctly termed ‘power-poles’, are utilitarian objects that are a part of the Australian landscape. I closely associate these objects with contact between remote rural towns and the wider world, in particular Alice Springs, the small city in Central Australia where I grew up and where I was first introduced to the Rubáiyát. The foundation of Alice Springs’ history lies in its role as a telegraph town. It provided a repeating station for communications between Adelaide, Darwin and any communities between them “on the Line”. A major part of the local history I learned during primary school revolved around the town’s situation as a communication and overland rest point before, during and after the Second World War. This has shaped my perception of telegraph lines into a powerful symbol of connection between distant places, one which is visible throughout my creative work.

My association of Australia’s great distances with the Rubáiyát was influenced in part by my awareness of the distance between the worlds of the two authors and myself. Despite this distance there are parallels between these places too. Omar Khayyám’s home city of Nishapur was a major node on the famous Silk Road, along which a wealth of merchandise and ideas flowed (Dashtī, 1971). FitzGerald’s England was the centre of an empire that 121 controlled and communicated with distant countries. His era saw major developments in science and transport that changed people’s perception of the world. Our own era is one of almost boundless communication. Our messages are increasingly electronic, allowing the individual access to vast quantities of information and to remotely interact with the majority of the globe. Physical travel is facilitated by air as well as by land. And still, despite this almost magical technology, we have no more control over the passage of time and the weight of mortality than did FitzGerald, or Omar Khayyám. Our worlds are not that different and the words of the Rubáiyát still ring true. 122 Chapter Five - The Exhibitions and Future directions

“You know how little time we have to stay, And, once departed, may return no more.” (QIII)

5.1 Exhibitions The creative work has been twice displayed to the public so far. The first exhibition was in a public art gallery and the second in a university library. Both of the institutions are situated in the lower Hunter Valley Region.

5.1.1 “The Moving Finger Paints…” Maitland Exhibition 26th February - 5th May 2014

Figure 5.1. Three views of the Maitland exhibition space, A (top), B (centre), C (bottom). 123 Synopsis of space and event purpose Maitland Regional Art Gallery (MRAG) is a public institution situated in the city centre of Maitland, NSW. The gallery specialises in works on paper. I have worked with MRAG previously both as an exhibitor and as an art workshop facilitator.

The exhibition of my RhD creative work was encouraged by the MRAG Gallery Director. This space was booked in 2012 with the expectation of the exhibition marking the conclusion of my Masters of Philosophy degree. As the research project expanded into a doctorate this event marked the completion of the creative objects though not the degree.

Figure 5.2 MRAG ground floor layout (image courtesy of MRAG).

The Gisella Scheinberg space was allocated for my use. This is one of the larger areas in the gallery and is situated directly behind the information desk and main entrance to the building (G4 in Figure 5.2).

Exhibition Content This exhibition was composed of the two original Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls, the five Kúza- Náma woodblocks, the monochromatic Sootprints, coloured prints produced from the woodblocks, three process sketchbooks, and a printed reproduction of the Summer Scroll which was provided for the public to directly handle. The Kabuki woodblock was hung up by the artists statement as a self portrait (visible leftmost in Figure 5.1.C). I also provided a guest book in the exhibition space for visitors to record their response to the illustrations. 124 Exhibition Setup The installation plan for the work was discussed before hand with the Gallery Director, the Gallery Curator and the Collection Management Curator. The latter supervised the hanging process with the assistance of a number of MRAG gallery volunteers.

The scrolls were unrolled in entirety and displayed side by side on two narrow, purpose- made perspex shelves. The angle of the shelves were designed to emulate the lecterns on which precious books are displayed. These were situated on the longest wall of the gallery (Figure 5.1.A).

In early discussions with the staff on the placement of the artwork, we had planned to divide the Kúza-Náma images into two groups: placing the prints and the Soot Prints together and displaying the colour prints on a separate wall. This concept was amended by the Setup Co-ordinator during installation. Instead, each design unit: wood block, Soot Print and final colour print, were hung together. This proved to be far more aesthetically pleasing than the original concept, and gave a sense of the process of producing the prints (Figure 5.1.B, Figure 5.1.C).

Low lighting was used for this exhibition to emulate the limited illumination used in museums to protect the displays from light damage.

Exhibition Layout Beginning at the entrance and proceeding in a clockwise direction, the exhibition began with a written synopsis of the Rubái’yát’s history and the motivations behind my creative work. The next wall displayed the two fully extended scrolls with a space of roughly a metre between them. The first set of Kúza-Náma designs: woodblock, Soot Print and coloured print, was hung in the narrow recessed space adjoining the wall bearing the scrolls (lower right corner of G4 space in Figure 5.2). The adjacent wall to the left of this recess displayed the second, third and fourth Kúza-Náma sets. The final set of theKúza-Náma illustrations was hung on the wall opposite the scrolls. To the right of these artworks was a plinth bearing the digitally printed copy of the first scroll intended to be handled by the public. An accompanying note attached to the plinth encouraged the viewer to handle this reproduction. Beside this was a second plinth with a guest book and wall texts discussing my connection to the poem and my process in making the woodblocks. On the far right of this wall, by the entrance was the Kabuki design woodblock.

In the middle of the exhibition space a free-standing glass-topped case displayed three of my process sketchbooks propped open to give further insight into the creative process. It has been my practice for some time to incorporate the compositional work as well as the completed artwork in my exhibitions, in part to remind the viewer that the work does not spring fully formed from the artist’s mind, and also because I take great interest in other artists’ preliminary sketches and creative processes. 125 Exhibition Feedback: The responses that I received from the gallery staff, from the visitors that I encountered at the gallery, and from the guestbook were highly positive. Comments from the Guest Book included those who had prior knowledge of the poem:

Much enjoyed, and fond child hood memories revived by it… My 96 year old mother still treasures her copy of these poems… My Grandfather’s favorite poet…. My mother often woke me in the morning with [lines from the poem]… My father used to read me the Rubaiyat at Bedtime… Have known the Rubaiyat since a teenager. English class at school. Love the translation into here + now Hunter… Found myself considering the message anew…

And persons who had not previously encountered the poem:

Our first introduction to Rubaiyat. Very intriguing Now I want to learn more… Thank you for introducing me to this wonderful verse and in such a way that I could recognise images that were etched into my memory and psyche by the Hunter Valley.

Though my work was not quite to everyone’s taste:

Whilst I find the panels very beautiful & Tallulah is a consummate illustrator I found the scrolls rather cloying & sentimental.

Newspaper reviews of this exhibition can be seen in Appendix E.1 Exhibition Reviews.

Exhibition retrospection: Displaying the woodblocks and their prints as a set worked very well in the space and I will use a similar layout if I exhibit them in future. In hindsight the Scrolls would have suited a smaller, more intimate space than the large open area of this exhibition room. In extending them to their full length, though the audience had the opportunity to see the entire content, the presentation did not reflect the experience of reading a narrative-scroll.

From this exhibition I recognised that a more appropriate presentation method for the scrolls would be to emulate that used in displaying the Book of Kells by Trinity College, Dublin. The Book of Kells is displayed open in a small, intimate space and the pages are periodically turned by a curator to reveal new content.

The next display of the scrolls, in the University of Newcastle’s Auchmuty Library, provided the opportunity to present the scrolls in a more book related context 126 5.1.2 The Hunter Rubáiyát

University of Newcastle Cultural Archives Display space 19th August - 22nd October 2014

Figure 5.3 The Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls on display in the University of Newcastle Auchmuty Library.

The top photograph shows the scrolls in their display cases; the lower image shows the hall space facing towards the information common with the wall of sketchbook reproductions

Synopsis of space and event purpose The corridor that connects the University of Newcastle’s Auchmuty Library with the Cultural Collections Archive and the Auchmuty Information Common provides a small and intimate display space. Items from the Cultural Collections, as well as student and staff directed content, are commonly displayed for varying lengths of time. The corridor’s position in the building results in a large volume of foot traffic passing through the display space with a repeating audience of both staff and students. 127 I approached the Cultural Collections staff in mid 2014 to enquire about displaying The Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls in this space. This was motivated by enquiries from my peers and University of Newcastle staff members who had not been able to view the Maitland exhibition. I was also aware that the Cultural Collections Archive had several illustrated editions of the Rubáiyát, and I desired further audience exposure for my interpretation of the text. The Special Collections Librarian and the Senior Library Technician were enthusiastic about displaying the scrolls in the space and a time period was allocated.

Figure 5.5 Floor Plan of the corridor display area and surrounding spaces.

Exhibition Content The display consisted of the two Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls and a number of A3 copies of double page scans from my process sketchbooks. Over half of these were sections of the final compositional sketches for the scrolls.

Exhibition Setup The display was curated and installed by the Senior Library Technician. The eight frames opposite the display cases are permanently fixed to the wall, dictating the placement and size of the images displayed there (Figure 5.3). The borders of these frames are simple clips that hold a vertically aligned A3 poster in place. The frames above the glass cases are of the same variety but were tape-hung and could be removed or repositioned. A selection of my sketchbook pages were reproduced to fill these frames. In an adjacent space, unfortunately out of direct line-of-sight from the Rubáiyát artworks, was a second display containing ornate copies of the Rubáiyát held in the Cultural Collections Archive, reproductions of existing illustrations of the Rubáiyát and images of Persian pottery from Nishapur (Omar Khayyám’s home city). 128 Exhibition layout The hallway display consisted of The Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls in separate glass cabinets, each were partially unrolled to show roughly ninety centimetres of content. Above the display cases were seven frames containing sketches of botanical specimens, Persian patterns, and colour swatches from the painting process. On the opposite side of the corridor were seven frames containing compositional sketches. On either side of the area was an A3 poster with information about the artwork.

The section of scroll visible was changed once a week to reveal the next part of the scroll. This process cycled through the images twice during the display period.

Display Feedback The various responses to my work from this display that I have directly encountered indicate an eager engagement with my artworks. I did not have the opportunity to observe visitors in the space, however, the feedback from the curator was strongly positive. The curator stated that the display garnered a frequent and enthusiastic verbal feedback from visitors. She also described the length of time individuals invested in viewing the artworks as being greater than she had observed for any previous display in that space.

A guest book was left in the custody of the Cultural Collections Archive counter with a small sign by the display directing interested individuals there if they wished to leave a comment or message. This supervision was deemed necessary due to the unmonitored nature of the display space. The guest book also contained the feedback from the Maitland exhibition and so I did not care to leave it unattended due to the risk of defacement or removal. The placement of this book did make leaving a comment less accessible and the guest book did not receive many comments from this display, though those that were included were enthusiastic and similar to the remarks recorded at the Maitland exhibition:

“Thanks for drawing attention to this poem! Where can I read it in full?”

Exhibition retrospection: My observations from the Maitland exhibition were successfully put into practice with this display. The sense of intimacy I sought to provide for the experience of viewing the scrolls here may have been slightly undermined by its situation in a major thoroughfare. This feature did ensure a large volume of potential viewers, however.

Only the scrolls were displayed in this situation. I have since recognised that presenting the fiveKúza-Náma designs in a hanging scroll format would have suited both spaces very well. This alternative treatment of the prints is one I intend to investigate for the next display of The Hunter Rubáiyát. 129 5.2 Future directions

The Hunter Rubáiyát on the road and the internet After the completion of my PhD I plan to organise a travelling exhibition to send The Hunter Rubáiyát around Australian libraries. This travelling exhibition may, for one should dream large, lead to opportunities to display this work at international institutions. If it does so then I will endeavour to ensure that the work is displayed both in Japan, and at the Bodleian Library, Oxford, where FitzGerald was educated and the Ouseley manuscript resides (Martin, 1985). In addition to exploring other physical locations to display The Hunter Rubáiyát, I will create an interactive website for the illustrations, making them accessible online.

Kúza-Náma printmaking I will continue my experimentation with the application of laser-cutter technology to woodblock printmaking. My research into the processes involved in creating the Kúza-Náma woodblocks have barely scratched the surface of potential creative research, in terms of both image creation and experimentation with technology. I will undertake additional experimental printing from my existing blocks, further refining my techniques and exploring the possibilities of these surfaces.

In order to further explore modern interpretations of the Rubáiyát I am also considering creating another interpretation of the Kúza-Náma to explore modern consumerism; this would involve the woodblock techniques that I developed during this project. The illustrations will integrate the text with abandoned drink canisters and disposable coffee cups in place of the ceramic pots of the poem, situating these and the text of the rubáiyát in local habitats.

Expanding on my script-font: There is a great deal of potential for further developing and applying my script-font to other personal projects. Consultation with a typographer will assist me in refining that which I have already created, and this may be the basis for further illustrations of public domain verse for publication or as portfolio work.

Further modern adaptations across multiple cultures The potential for further visual interpretations of the Rubáiyát by myself and other artists remains exciting. My own engagement with the text has made me eager to engage visual practitioners from cultural backgrounds other than my own with the poem, and to catalyse and observe their visual interpretations of rubáiyát.

I am currently envisioning a collaboration with other artists situated around the world. Each individual would illustrate a small number of the Rubáiyát within their own cultural context and in a modern setting. This would result in an illustration for each of the seventy five rubáiyát. These illustrations would then be collated, published and promoted as a modern and internationally relevant Rubáiyát. This could be presented electronically initially and then, if popular and sufficient funding sourced, printed in hard copy. The documentation of each artist’s process and observations on their interpretation of the text would be both engaging and unique, especially if made available on an internet platform. The logistics and feasibility of such a project remain to be considered. Nothing of this kind has been applied to the text before. 130 Conclusion

“Turn down an empty Glass” (QLXXV)

If other creative practitioners look upon my work and are inspired to create their own response to the Rubáiyát; if a viewer is reminded of their existing experiences with the poem; if someone who has never before heard of the Rubáiyát is prompted to find a copy for themselves or for a loved one; then my creative work has achieved what I set out to do: to create another chapter in the visual legacy of the poem.

In this exegesis, I have outlined the history of FitzGerald’s Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám and discussed the main influences on my visual interpretation. The materials and methods used to produce the creative objects have been discussed, as has the rich and multilayered visual content of my illustrations. In addition to a brief description of the exhibitions of The Hunter Rubáiyát, I have discussed potential future directions for the existing creative works, and for further research exploring both the poem and the methods developed for this project.

The journey involved in illustrating The Hunter Rubáiyát has been a long and illuminating one. In addition to challenging my technical illustration skills and exploring alternative tools, I have, over the course of this voyage, gained further insights regarding the poem itself, my personal connections to the poem and an increased consciousness of my methodology as a creative practitioner. This has been both challenging and rewarding. The opportunity to work on a single thematic project for a prolonged period has allowed me to observe, analyse, experiment and meditate on my practice in ways I had not previously experienced. Over the course of the research my visual language and methodology has evolved from being predominately instinctive to a more conscious process. I recognise that this awareness is still developing and that I will actively foster it in my academic and non-academic creative practices.

What began as a simple project to create an Australian interpretation of the Rubáiyát has resulted in illustrations that are unique on multiple levels. The Hunter Rubáiyát is the only visual interpretation of FitzGerald’s poem that illustrates the poem in a contemporary and realistic setting; it counters existing anthropocentric representations of the poem by focusing on landscapes and non-human life; it draws on the aesthetics of Asia rather than the Middle East, and this influence is conveyed by the physical formats of the illustrations rather than by their content. My use of these scroll and woodblock formats have resulted in a reading experience for the Rubáiyát that is unlike anything previously associated with the text. By setting the poem in the current, non-idyllic landscapes of the Hunter Valley Region I have created a visual interpretation that belongs to an Australian audience in particular.

The moving finger writes, and having writ (QLI): it is time to move on. 131 132 Reference List

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Edward FitzGerald’s first edition of the Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyam is reproduced below in it’s original order.

Spelling and punctuation within the poem can vary between imprints due to the conscious decision of the editor or human error (Decker 1997). The copy below was sourced online from the Gutenburg Project. This source text contains the verses from both first and fifth editions, the introduction of the first and third editions, as well as an editorial introduction to FitzGerald and his text. I have chosen to only reproduce the poem itself here. The introductions and footnotes I have omitted from this document due to their size but they may be readily accessed at: http://www.gutenberg.org/files/246/246-h/246-h.htm#link2H_4_0003

RUBÁIYÁT OF OMAR KHAYYÁM

I Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight: And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught The Sultán’s Turret in a Noose of Light.

II Dreaming when Dawn’s Left Hand was in the Sky I heard a Voice within the Tavern cry, “Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup Before Life’s Liquor in its Cup be dry.”

III And, as the Cock crew, those who stood before The Tavern shouted—”Open then the Door! You know how little while we have to stay, And, once departed, may return no more.”

IV Now the New Year reviving old Desires, The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires, Where the White Hand of Moses on the Bough Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.

V Irám indeed is gone with all its Rose, And Jamshýd’s Sev’n-ring’d Cup where no one knows; But still the Vine her ancient Ruby yields, And still a Garden by the Water blows.

VI And David’s Lips are lock’t; but in divine High piping Pehleví, with “Wine! Wine! Wine! Red Wine!”—the Nightingale cries to the Rose That yellow Cheek of hers to incarnadine. A2 VII Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring The Winter Garment of Repentance fling: The Bird of Time has but a little way To fly—and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.

VIII And look—a thousand Blossoms with the Day Woke—and a thousand scatter’d into Clay: And this first Summer Month that brings the Rose Shall take Jamshýd and Kaikobád away.

IX But come with old Khayyám, and leave the Lot Of Kaikobád and Kaikhosrú forgot: Let Rustum lay about him as he will, Or Hátim Tai cry Supper—heed them not.

X With me along some Strip of Herbage strown That just divides the desert from the sown, Where name of Slave and Sultán scarce is known, And pity Sultán Máhmúd on his Throne.

XI Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough, A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse—and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness— And Wilderness is Paradise enow.

XII “How sweet is mortal Sovranty!”—think some: Others—”How blest the Paradise to come!” Ah, take the Cash in hand and waive the Rest; Oh, the brave Music of a distant Drum!

XIII Look to the Rose that blows about us—”Lo, Laughing,” she says, “into the World I blow: At once the silken Tassel of my Purse Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw.”

XIV The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon Turns Ashes—or it prospers; and anon, Like Snow upon the Desert’s dusty Face Lighting a little Hour or two—is gone.

XV And those who husbanded the Golden Grain, And those who flung it to the Winds like Rain, Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn’d As, buried once, Men want dug up again. A3

XVI Think, in this batter’d Caravanserai Whose Doorways are alternate Night and Day, How Sultán after Sultán with his Pomp Abode his Hour or two, and went his way.

XVII They say the Lion and the Lizard keep The Courts where Jamshýd gloried and drank deep; And Bahrám, that great Hunter—the Wild Ass Stamps o’er his Head, and he lies fast asleep.

XVIII I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Cæsar bled; That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head.

XIX And this delightful Herb whose tender Green Fledges the River’s Lip on which we lean— Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen!

XX Ah, my Belovéd, fill the Cup that clears To-day of past Regrets and future Fears— To-morrow?—Why, To-morrow I may be Myself with Yesterday’s Sev’n Thousand Years.

XXI Lo! some we loved, the loveliest and the best That Time and Fate of all their Vintage prest, Have drun k their Cup a Round or two before, And one by one crept silently to Rest.

XXII And we, that now make merry in the Room They left, and Summer dresses in new Bloom, Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth Descend, ourselves to make a Couch—for whom?

XXIII Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend, Before we too into the Dust descend; Dust into Dust, and under Dust, to lie, Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and—sans End.

XXIV Alike for those who for To-day prepare, And those that after a To-morrow stare, A Muezzín from the Tower of Darkness cries “Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There!” A4 XXV Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss’d Of the Two Worlds so learnedly, are thrust Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn Are scatter’d, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust.

XXVI Oh, come with old Khayyám, and leave the Wise To talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies; One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies; The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.

XXVII Myself when young did eagerly frequent Doctor and Saint, and heard great Argument About it and about: but evermore Came out by the same Door as in I went.

XXVIII With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow, And with my own hand labour’d it to grow: And this was all the Harvest that I reap’d— “I came like Water, and like Wind I go.”

XXIV Alike for those who for To-day prepare, And those that after a To-morrow stare, A Muezzín from the Tower of Darkness cries, “Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There!”

XLII And lately, by the Tavern Door agape, Came stealing through the Dusk an Angel Shape Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and He bid me taste of it; and ‘twas—the Grape!

XXIX Into this Universe, and why not knowing, Nor whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing: And out of it, as Wind along the Waste, I know not whither, willy-nilly blowing.

XXX What, without asking, hither hurried whence? And, without asking, whither hurried hence! Another and another Cup to drown The Memory of this Impertinence!

XXXI Up from Earth’s Centre through the Seventh Gate I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate, And many Knots unravel’d by the Road; But not the Knot of Human Death and Fate. A5 XXXII There was a Door to which I found no Key: There was a Veil past which I could not see: Some little Talk awhile of Me and Thee There seem’d—and then no more of Thee and Me.

XXXIII Then to the rolling Heav’n itself I cried, Asking, “What Lamp had Destiny to guide Her little Children stumbling in the Dark?” And—”A blind Understanding!” Heav’n replied.

XXXIV Then to this earthen Bowl did I adjourn My Lip the secret Well of Life to learn: And Lip to Lip it murmur’d—”While you live Drink!—for once dead you never shall return.”

XXXV I think the Vessel, that with fugitive Articulation answer’d, once did live, And merry-make; and the cold Lip I kiss’d How many Kisses might it take—and give!

XXXVI For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day, I watch’d the Potter thumping his wet Clay: And with its all obliterated Tongue It murmur’d—”Gently, Brother, gently, pray!”

XXXVII Ah, fill the Cup:—what boots it to repeat How Time is slipping underneath our Feet: Unborn To-morrow, and dead Yesterday Why fret about them if To-day be sweet!

XXXVIII One Moment in Annihilation’s Waste, One Moment, of the Well of Life to taste— The Stars are setting and the Caravan Starts for the Dawn of Nothing—Oh, make haste!

XXXIX How long, how long, in definite Pursuit Of This and That endeavour and dispute? Better be merry with the fruitful Grape Than sadder after none, or bitter, Fruit.

XL You know, my Friends, how long since in my House For a new Marriage I did make Carouse: Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed, And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse. A6 XLI For “Is” and “Is-not” though with Rule and Line And “Up-and-down” without, I could define, I yet in all I only cared to know, Was never deep in anything but—Wine.

XLII And lately, by the Tavern Door agape, Came stealing through the Dusk an Angel Shape Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and He bid me taste of it; and ‘twas—the Grape!

XLIII The Grape that can with Logic absolute The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute: The subtle Alchemist that in a Trice Life’s leaden Metal into Gold transmute.

XLIV The mighty Mahmúd, the victorious Lord, That all the misbelieving and black Horde Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul Scatters and slays with his enchanted Sword.

XLV But leave the Wise to wrangle, and with me The Quarrel of the Universe let be: And, in some corner of the Hubbub coucht, Make Game of that which makes as much of Thee.

XLVI For in and out, above, about, below, ‘Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show Play’d in a Box whose Candle is the Sun, Round which we Phantom Figures come and go.

XLVII And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press, End in the Nothing all Things end in—Yes— Then fancy while Thou art, Thou art but what Thou shalt be—Nothing—Thou shalt not be less.

XLVIII While the Rose blows along the River Brink, With old Khayyám the Ruby Vintage drink: And when the Angel with his darker Draught Draws up to Thee—take that, and do not shrink.

XLIX ‘Tis all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays: Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays, And one by one back in the Closet lays. A7 L The Ball no Question makes of Ayes and Noes, But Right or Left as strikes the Player goes; And He that toss’d Thee down into the Field, He knows about it all—He knows—HE knows!

LI The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

LII And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky, Whereunder crawling coop’t we live and die, Lift not thy hands to It for help—for It Rolls impotently on as Thou or I.

LIII With Earth’s first Clay They did the Last Man’s knead, And then of the Last Harvest sow’d the Seed: Yea, the first Morning of Creation wrote What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.

LIV I tell Thee this—When, starting from the Goal, Over the shoulders of the flaming Foal Of Heav’n and Parwín and Mushtara they flung, In my predestined Plot of Dust and Soul.

LV The Vine had struck a Fibre; which about If clings my Being—let the Súfi flout; Of my Base Metal may be filed a Key, That shall unlock the Door he howls without.

LVI And this I know: whether the one True Light, Kindle to Love, or Wrath consume me quite, One glimpse of It within the Tavern caught Better than in the Temple lost outright.

LVII Oh, Thou, who didst with Pitfall and with Gin Beset the Road I was to wander in, Thou wilt not with Predestination round Enmesh me, and impute my Fall to Sin?

LVIII Oh, Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make, And who with Eden didst devise the Snake; For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man Is blacken’d, Man’s Forgiveness give—and take! A8

KÚZA-NÁMA

LIX Listen again. One evening at the Close Of Ramazán, ere the better Moon arose, In that old Potter’s Shop I stood alone With the clay Population round in Rows.

LX And, strange to tell, among the Earthen Lot Some could articulate, while others not: And suddenly one more impatient cried— “Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?”

LXI Then said another—”Surely not in vain My Substance from the common Earth was ta’en, That He who subtly wrought me into Shape Should stamp me back to common Earth again.”

LXII Another said—”Why, ne’er a peevish Boy, Would break the Bowl from which he drank in Joy; Shall He that made the Vessel in pure Love And Fancy, in an after Rage destroy!”

LXIII None answer’d this; but after Silence spake A Vessel of a more ungainly Make: “They sneer at me for leaning all awry; What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?”

LXIV Said one—”Folks of a surly Tapster tell, And daub his Visage with the Smoke of Hell; They talk of some strict Testing of us—Pish! He’s a Good Fellow, and ‘twill all be well.”

LXV Then said another with a long-drawn Sigh, “My Clay with long oblivion is gone dry: But, fill me with the old familiar Juice, Methinks I might recover by-and-by!”

LXVI So while the Vessels one by one were speaking, One spied the little Crescent all were seeking: And then they jogg’d each other, “Brother, Brother! Hark to the Porter’s Shoulder-knot a creaking!” A9 LXVII Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide, And wash my Body whence the Life has died, And in a Windingsheet of Vine-leaf wrapt, So bury me by some sweet Garden-side.

LXVIII That ev’n my buried Ashes such a Snare Of Perfume shall fling up into the Air, As not a True Believer passing by But shall be overtaken unaware.

LXIX Indeed the Idols I have loved so long Have done my Credit in Men’s Eye much wrong: Have drown’d my Honour in a shallow Cup, And sold my Reputation for a Song.

LXX Indeed, indeed Repentance oft before I swore - but was I sober when I swore? And then and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand My thread-bare Penitence apieces tore.

LXXI As much as Wine has play’d the Infidel And robb’d me of my Robe of Honour - wll, I often wonder what the Vintners buy - One half so precious as the Goods they sell.

LXXII Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose! That Youth’s sweet-scented Manuscript should close! The Nightingale that in the Branches sang, Ah, whence, and whither flown again, who knows!

LXXIII Ah, Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire, Would not we shatter it to bits—and then Re-mould it nearer to the Heart’s Desire!

LXXIV Ah, Moon of my Delight, who know’st no wane, The Moon of Heav’n is rising once again: How oft hereafter rising shall she look Through this same Garden after me—in vain!

LXXV And when Thyself with shining Foot shall pass Among the Guests Star-scatter’d on the Grass, And in thy joyous Errand reach the Spot Where I made one—turn down an empty Glass!

TAMÁM SHUD A10 Appendix B - Process research and resources

B.1 Field Work Sites This section provides a brief overview of the sites that were visited, observed and depicted in the creative work for readers unfamiliar with the area. The purple outline on the map below roughly definesthe boundaries of the Hunter Valley. The numbers denote the specific locations where I undertook the fieldwork that informed creative project.

Figure B.1 Map of the Hunter Valley Region.

1. Fort Scratchley and The Foreshore are Newcastle City landmarks found on the South- ern side of the entrance to Newcastle Harbour. Fort Scratchley was a military base.

2. Stockton is a suburb situated on a sand spit on the Northern side of Newcastle har- bour.

3. Blackbutt Reserve, like much of Newcastle, is situated on the site of a coal mine. This reserve contains native vegetation communities that include open and closed sclerophyll forest, and a small community of rainforest plants. This site includes large aviaries which contain a variety of native birds as well as mammal and reptile displays.

4. Callaghan campus of the University of Newcastle is, between buildings and sporting ovals, an open sclerophyll forest. This vegetation primarily consists of spotted gum but also contains a deep gully through the middle of the campus that has closed canopy veg- etation. To the North of the campus are a series of wetlands that extend towards but are not directly connected to the Hunter Wetlands.

5. The Hunter Wetlands contains large open areas of fresh water and riverine vegetation. It is the nesting place for ibis, magpie geese and a variety of other migratory and non migratory species. This site is a recreation, education and conservation facility. A11 6. Kooragang and Ash Island have had a history of heavy industrial and agricultural use. Ash Island has since been set aside as a wildlife conservation area. It is known locally for its mangroves and the seasonal visits by migratory birds.

7. Maitland City is striking for the heritage buildings that line its main streets. Maitland Regional Art Gallery is situated here.

8. Lochinvar is a small town situated shortly North West of Maitland. My fieldwork site lay on the far side of the village where a smaller road crossed the Hunter River. This was where I found the scribbly gum depicted in the Winter Scroll and provided references of severe river bank erosion.

9. Cessnock is a small city at the edge of the Winery region and is situated on one of the arterial roads that lead into that district. Cessnock’s part in my visual research is limited to a depiction of the back view of its main shopping streets.

10. Millfield provided a base from which I did much of my fieldwork in this region. My uncle and his family had a house here in the 2012-13 period in which I visited.

11. Hunter Valley Winery Region consists of numerous winding roads that lead to, through and past a variety of boutique wineries. The landscape here is primarily agricul- tural but with pockets of native vegetation which includes land set aside for military use.

12. Singleton is largely a mining town. As with Maitland, it is heavily planted with Jaca- randa which provides spectacular views come October.

13. Denman fieldwork was carried out at Two Rivers Winery shortly North of the town- ship. The beetle for “Here beneath the Bough” was sourced from this site. Discussions with the owner of this property about weed control issues along the edge of the river reinforced my decision to include non-native species in the scrolls.

14. Barrington Tops National Park and surrounding areas are annually visited as a part of Natural History Illustration degree camping-research expeditions. This area contains a variety of agricultural and native vegetation landscapes.

15. Chichester Dam is a large body of water situated near the Barrington Tops and pro- vides potable water for a large portion of the Hunter Valley. Surrounding this body of water are dense and closed forest.

16. Dungog, and Stroud, are situated in predominantly open agricultural land North of Newcastle. These are both small rural towns that contain a mixture of modern and heri- tage buildings. I visited these sites on a single day reference gathering expedition early in my fieldwork.

17. Stroud. A12 B.2 Sources of specialist art materials:

Anagote Timbers 144 Renwick St, Marrickville NSW (02) 9558 8444 http://anagote.com

Will’s Quills http://www.willsquills.com.au An online, Australian based source of calligraphic supplies. The source of Japanese Moon Palace paper.

Hiromi Paper Inc 2525 Michigan Ave, STE G9, Santa Monica, CA 90404-4091 USA http://store.hiromipaper.com/ This shop maintains an immense variety of handmade Japanese papers and is in direct communication with the craftspeople that make them.

Masumi Pty Ltd 4-5-2 Sugamo, Toshima-ku, Tokyo, 170-0002 Japan http://www.masumi-j.com/english/profile.html The company recommended by Mr Thompson, a Japanese painting conservationist.

Mr Okumura Miyabi Ltd Head Office, 2-95 Hirashima, Itinomiya City, Aichi-ken, Nagoya, 491-0013, Japan The crafts-person who mounted the scrolls.

Event21 1-3-15 Fujiyama, Kashiba, Nara, 639-0243, Japan, http://event21.co.jp/event_company.htm This company provided my interface with Mr Okumura and provided a translator for my visit to his studio. A13 B.3 - Okumura Studio Miyabi Ltd Studio - Scroll Mounting - May 2013.

As a part of a personal trip to Japan I organised to visit Okumura’s studio in order to meet the artisan in person, hand deliver the first of the scrolls and to select the el- ements for the final presentation of the artworks (terminal knobs and fabric edging). Matt Bacskai, my multilingual contact from the company Event21 and through whom I had contacted Mr Okumura, met me in Nagoya. Together we trav- elled together to the satellite city of Itomiya where the studio is based. Mr Bacskai greatly assisted with translation during the visit as my own Japanese is limited. Mr Okumura briefly outlined the processes involved in mounting the scroll. We dis- cussed the selection of fabrics and jiku (terminal knobs) he recommended for the col- ours present in my Scroll. When he and his assistant (Ms Yoshida) viewed the scroll they remarked that the composition and colour usage was unlike anything they had encountered before. Ms Yoshida was recently graduated from a Nagoya art uni- versity and was particularly interested in my use of gouache in varying densities.

Figure B.3.1 Mr Bacskai (translator), Mr Okumura, and his assistant Ms Yoshida.

Backing Papers The photograph to the right shows the backing papers used by Mr Okumura in the scroll making process. The writing to the left of the paper ‘美須(中)’ indicates that it is middle weight Misugami, one of the backing papers recommended in Koyano (p29, 1979). This paper is made from Kozo with the addition of powdered oyster shell (gofun).

Figure B.3.2 Misugami backing papers. A14 The Scroll Fabric Below are the three fabrics recommended as a border for the scrolls. I immediately dismissed one (Sample C) as too ‘busy’. I initially selected pattern B as I used similar swirling patterns through the Scrolls. On further consideration I recognized this design would appear awkward in the landscape format required for the Hunter scrolls. Hanging scrolls, for which this fabric design was intended, are in portrait format. The Sample B below has been turned 90° to reflect the alignment that would be necessary for the scroll. I revised my decision and sample A was used for the final scroll.

A. B. C. Figure B.3.3 The three fabric samples recommended by Okumura.

From Koyano’s (1979) description of the different fabrics used for scroll mounting the chosen material is most likely to be Shike, a plain silk fabric in which the weft threads are thicker than the warp.

Jiki Selection The dark wooden jiki was selected for the scrolls (second from right-most sample in photograph below). The three left jiki are moulded and glazed ceramics. The lighter and less fragile wooden jiki were more suitable for the distance the scrolls would spend in transit as well as being complimentary in appearance with the wide variety of colours the scrolls contained. This shape of terminal is described as Kirijiku and wooden instances of these items is usually crafted from Japanese cedar (Koyano, 1979).

Figure B.3.4 Jiki selection. A15 Studio Process Photographs The following photographs document some though not all of Okumura’s processes as he worked on the first Hunter Rubáiyát scroll. These images were provided at my request by Miyabi Studio for use in this exegesis. The various stages of the scroll mounting process are well described, as are considerations of paper selection and the restoration of historical scrolls (Belard, 2010; Ikegami, 2007; Koyano, 1979). While I have added some descriptions to the photographs of Okumura’s studio practice this is by no means a comprehensive walk through of the process. I recommend interested readers to read Koyano for the process of professional scroll mounting and Ikegami for practical instructions for creating a simple scroll.

Figure B.3.5 Applying the backing paper. Left: The artwork is placed face down on a board and the back moistened with water. Right Top: The misugami paper is evenly covered in rice paste. Right Bottom: The misugami is laminated to the back of the scroll artwork, simultaneously glueing both to the board.

The laminated paper is left to dry on the wooden board visible in the photograph, this stretches and flattens the papers. As is evident above, due to the length of the scrolls, this process had to be done in multiple sections. For smaller artworks the entire paper would be done at the same session. A16

Figure B.3.6 Trimming off the scroll margins and preparing the edging fabric. A17

Figure B.3.7 Adhering the fabric border to the scroll.

The attachment of the jiku and the wooden roller core was not photographically recorded by the studio. A18 B.4 Laser-cutter settings This section provides the laser-cutter settings applied to the cherry wood blocks and a brief synopsis of the time taken to etch and the resulting etch depth.

Initial settings: as recommended by laser-cutter manual: For Cherry wood, Alder and Walnut timbers: File type: vector Speed/Power/Frequency 30/60/500

A single etching pass over a roughly A3 area took 41 minutes and resulted in a half millimetre deep etching. A minimum of two passes of the laser at this setting were required to create a sufficient depth for printing.

Intensified laser-cutter setting applied to ‘Kabuki’ design: File type: raster Resolution: 1200 Speed/Power 20/100

This etching took roughly 35 minutes for an A5 area. The block was ‘cut’ in a single pass that created a 2 millimetre deep etch. This depth was too deep for very fine details which readily broke off during print making.

Final laser-cutter settings: File type: raster Resolution: 600 Speed/Power 20/100 The A3 designs each took approximately one and a half hours to etch. The depth of etch, roughly one and a half millimetres, was excellent for printing purposes. A20 B.5 Printmaking Research

Experimentation with and refinement of printmaking techniques, as I mentioned in the main body of the exegesis (Section 3.4.2.2), has not been focal in this PhD. My experimentation was limited to the amount required to produce the prints for my exhibition and then set aside for later, post degree, investigation. Below I briefly discuss my findings on the different papers used with the small ‘Kabuki’ inverse-block. This experiment informed me of the behaviour of my materials, revealed further directions for improving my printing technique, and verified the potential of this medium for future illustration projects. I also briefly discuss my discovery of ‘Sootprints’ - these are prints I made from the carbonised surface of the woodblocks directly after the etching process.

B.5.1 Multiple colours in one impression experimentation

Figure B.5.1.1 Woodblock painted with gouache (detail).

This experimentation developed the techniques used for my later water-based printmaking work. From this I identified the paper and methods I would apply to physically print the Kúza-Náma designs, and I investigated the behaviour of my chosen materials. The notes below are summarised from a series of experimental prints made using the ‘Kabuki’ design block visible above (figure B.5.1.1). A selection of the prints made from this box are viewable on the Image Appendices DVD.

Yiban-duose Method Individual gouache colours were painted onto the block by brush and allowed to dry (figure B.5.1.1). I then rehydrated the painted surface using a spray bottle in readiness for printing. For the heavier weight papers I lightly pre-dampened their surface using a spray bottle before placing them on the print block. Thin Japanese papers I placed them on the block dry and then misted them with water from the back. Once the sheet of paper was placed I covered it with a double layer of paper towelling to absorb excess moisture and to protect the printing surfaces. The paper towelling also provided a spongy surface that further assisted in embossing the fine paper and reduced the risk of excess pressure tearing the paper. Over the towelling I placed a piece of photocopy paper, providing a smooth working surface for burnishing. To provide the pressure needed to transfer the print I used a A21 Japanese baren, with the addition of gentle point pressure by fingertip to further emboss areas of high detail such as the teapot, plaited hair, face and painting kit (this embossing is visible below in figure B.5.1.2)

Figure B.5.1.2 This reversed side clearly shows the embossed surface.

On “Second Impressions” Due to the time required to apply colours to the block I printed second and third impressions by rewetting the same painted surface. While one might expect these to be sequentially paler than the first impression in multiple cases I observed that particular colours transferred better on the second instance of rewetting. This informed me which colours required a longer rewetting period. Taking three impressions from the same painted surface also provided additional opportunity to refine my printing techniques.

Paper: Asian papers I explored Japanese shoji (door-screen) paper and calligraphic papers as I had them to hand. The shoji paper was more robust but also prone to shedding paper fibre onto the block. I discarded using this paper rapidly due to the amount of cleaning by brush required between imprints. These papers proved very delicate when wet. There were several instances where sections of paper surface were lost or tore due to the tackiness of the pigment and the wetness of the paper. One of my methods of circumventing this was to let paper partially dry before removing it from the block. To speed up this process I burnished the surface repetitively through multiple sheets of dry paper towel to remove as much moisture as possible.

European papers The wetness of the paper was very influential on how well these types of paper picked up paint. The white gouache made a more matt/less reflective surface making the unprinted parts of the paper surface appear brighter. This is opposite to my findings with the thin Japanese paper in which the white gouache, masking the paper translucency, appeared brighter than the substrate.

Canson 200gsm cold pressed Aquarelle watercolour paper This paper had a distinct dichotomy between the ‘front’ and ‘back’ of the paper with the deckle mesh being very evident in the print. The surface embossed well but the rough surface was not as suitable for a smooth transfer of pigment. A22 Arches 280gsm Hot-Pressed watercolour paper

Figure B.5.1.3 Paper texture of Arches Hot-Pressed.

This paper surface provided my second best imprint in the Western papers. The surface gives slightly crayon like texture to the pigment distribution. The wood grain of the block surface was apparent on large areas of flat colour. This paper carried subtleties of colour (pink tinting on face, elbows) very well. Embossing was not readily visible. Greater pressure or a longer soaking to ‘fluff up’ the paper surface is required with this paper. The second impression taken from the block with this paper emphasises the influence of the paper surface (Figure B.5.1.3).

Stonehenge

Figure B.5.1.4 Stonehenge and ink texture.

Stonehenge provided the clearest prints I produced during my experimentation with this block design. Figure B.5.4 shows the even transfer of colour, the crisp embossing and the stipple texture created by misting the surface with water. This was the paper I selected for the final prints for exhibition display.

Findings on the water-based paints I used a combination of Artist Spectrum and Windsor & Newton gouache on this block. Some of these colours rehydrated readily, these included Artist Spectrum’s Ultramarine and Crimson, Windsor and Newton’s Winsor Red and Black gouache. Some paints required a longer rewetting period and transferred better on second impression. These slower-to-hydrate colours included blues other than Ultramarine and Cadmium colours. Artist Spectrum’s Naples Yellow did not readily rehydrate and I recommend avoiding it entirely for printmaking. Windsor and Newton Titanium White was slow to rehydrated A23 but provided a strong, opaque effect even when combined with other colours. Mixes containing a substantial percentage of the white gouache also tended to be undesirably adhesive; overly damp paper compounded the issue resulting in areas of the paper surface tearing when the print was removed from the block (Figure B.5.1.5). I briefly experimented with adding Gum Arabic to the paint and found it improved rehydration though further research is desirable.

Figure B.5.1.5 An instance where the paper adhered to the print block, tearing away the surface.

From the above research I established that the calligraphy paper would not suit my plans for the final Kúza-Náma prints intended for the Maitland exhibition. I also decided that I would use water based paints for inverse-blocks but explore oil based paints after my degree. A24 B.5.2 Printing the Kúza-Náma Below I briefly discuss the three different methods that I used to create the five prints shown at my MRAG exhibition (2014). There are high resolution examples of both lead- up prints and the final printed images in the accompanying Image Appendices DVD. For all of the prints discussed below, I used 300gsm Stonehenge paper.

Cockatoo and Wattle - Single impression Line-work Prints The designs of the Cockatoo and Wattle illustrations were printed in monochrome and then hand-tinted with watercolour using a paint brush. This colouring method was inspired by the hand-tinted illustration plates of Western book illustrations prior to the commercial development of colour printing technology.

To print the line-work I used a rubber-based sepia pigment applied by a brayer.

During experimentation I observed a tendency for the print paper to make contact with the middle of the larger non-printing areas of the woodblock. When this occurred the paper picked up unwanted tones (Top right corner of Figure B.5.2.1). To overcome this issue I placed thin pieces of card on the open areas of the woodblock surface. This ensured the paper only made contact with the desired printing surfaces of the block or the clean cardboard, preventing the accidental transfer of remnant soot or stray ink from the background. Figure B.5.2.1 Detail showing unwanted printed areas. Once placed on the surface the sheet of Stonehenge paper was covered with at least two secondary sheets of paper. Using a baren I firmly rubbed the back of the paper through these prints to transfer the ink, working particularly firmly over areas of fine detail. This done, the print was carefully lifted and set aside to dry. Once the ink was completely dry I tinted the printed illustrations by hand using washes of watercolour.

Bat and Lizard - Yiban-duose Style Prints The printing method for these two illustrations was, like the approach to etching the woodblocks themselves, inspired by the work of Cressida Campbell (discussed in Section 2.2). In a departure from the method used for the other woodblock designs, I experimented with using a printing press rather than a baren in order to ensure even pressure across the entire surface of the print. This gave me mixed results that require further exploration.

In order to ready the inversed block for printing I painted the entire raised surface with a water-based gouache by paint brush. Once fully painted the printing surface was misted A25 with water to rewet the paint and the woodblock transferred to rest on the printing press bed. Pre-dampened Stonehenge paper was carefully placed onto the printing surface and covered with several sheets of cartridge paper; this sandwiching both absorbed excess moisture, reduced the risk of the printing paper moving during the process and protected the press’s felt printing blanket from potential paint bleeding through. Finally the printing blanket was placed over all of the above and the stack was run through the press two to three times.

As the process of painting each inverse woodblock was a slow and meticulous one, and needed to be repeated each time to produce a clear print, time restrictions prevented me from producing more than a few copies of these illustrations. I did make secondary and tertiary impressions from each instance of painting. This removed excess pigment off the block prior to the next application of colour and allowed further refinement of my printing techniques though these subsequent prints were not vivid in colour.

One of the early experiments printing the Bat woodblock is shown here (Figure B.5.2.2). This print explored the application of very wet colours, as is evident in the printed texture, and an alternative palette to those applied for the exhibited prints.

The marbled effect of such loose washes Figure B.5.2.2 A test print of the Bat block. remains to be explored further.

Wasp - Multiple Colour Impression prints The printing technique used to reproduce this design drew on the methods used in traditional Japanese printmaking but also involved elements of Western printmaking. Rather than follow the Japanese use of water-based paints applied by brush I used rubber-based inks applied by printing brayer.

I approached the order in which I printed the multiple colour separations of this design based on my experience with translucent watercolours. The first impression applied the largest and palest areas of ink, these consisted of the sky and its reflection in the water. This was sequentially followed by the two successively darker green blocks that provided the green of the vegetation and finally the block that transferred the line-work. for each impression I transferred the ink using pressure applied by hand with a baren.

For this process I did not pre-dampen the paper as I had for the other print designs. My earlier experimentation with the rubber-based ink had revealed that the surface tackiness A26 of that media, especially over areas as large as those used in this design, readily remove the surface from damp paper. To transfer the media I relied on the consistency of the ink applied to the printing block and the force of my burnishing.

While the registration of these blocks was not precise it was also not a particular concern of this project. I have already identified means of improving the accuracy of the registration for later exploration. The mis-registration is, in itself, remeniscent of the limited and overlapping colours of my grandparents’ block-printed wall-paper and the 1970s’ illustrations from the school readers of my early education

An incidental change in the order of the imprints that Figure B.5.2.3 Detail showing the occurred late in my printing process has suggested future four impression layers and slight mis-registration. directions for exploration printing from these woodblocks. The belated application of the light blue separation over the other colours is reproduced below (Figure B.5.2.4). The semi-opacity of this ink over the other darker colours provides additional depth and variation of tone. I intend further experimentation with varying the ink opacities and order of printing the woodblock separations.

Figure B.5.2.4 Semi-opaque blue over other layers. A27 B.5.3 Soot Prints In addition to the intended artworks there has been the identification of a monoprint method made possible by the laser-cutting process. The discovery of these ‘Soot Prints’ was an unexpected outcome of using the technology. I have coined the term from the fact that the pigment of these prints are made up entirely of the carbonised surface of the woodblocks.

These blocks were cleaned by blind printing (ink-less embossing) on dampened Stonehenge and scrap paper.

Figure 3.5.3 ‘Sootprints’ created by blind printing the freshly etched block.

This medium was discovered through my practice of blind printing each of the blocks several times to remove residue of the etching process in order to clean the block for application of ink. Blind printing, also known as gauffrage’ or ‘Karazuri’ (Bull 2011, Kanda 1989), involves printing without ink to texturally emboss the surface of the paper. The dust, soot and wood-oil left on the remaining raised sections of the freshly etched woodblock readily marked dampened paper when pressed firmly over the block’s surface. Initially I used scrap paper for this process but when I observed how a sharp sepia image was produced I substituted a higher quality Stonehenge paper. Only one to two clear Soot- prints could be pulled from each freshly etched block. If the block was etched and left over night before a Soot-print was taken then the intensity of the pigment transfer was greatly reduced.

Soot-prints are aromatic. Some six months after the printing process these prints still carry a distinct and incense-like fragrance of cherry wood ash from the cutting process. As with the incense sachet that accompanied the return of the mounted Summer Scroll discussed earlier, the association of fragrance with my work, though coincidental, is fitting, continuing the association of the Rubáiyát with fragrant substrates. The use of other aromatic wood substrates for creating the blocks is a direction worth further exploration. The archival limitations of this medium also remain to be explored. A25 Appendix C - Referenced Species

C.1 - Annotated Species list

Key to the structure of each entry: Common name Scientific name (location in artwork) [The page number for the species in associated reference book] A brief description of the Natural History of the species as pertinent to artwork.

Artwork location key: (S1) Appears in Summer scroll (S2) Appears in Winter scroll (SkO) Appears in Sketchbook or draft scrolls only. These include specimens that I researched for the creative works but that were not included in the final compositions. (W) Appears in Woodblocks 1-5

Unless otherwise noted the scientific names for botanical specimen were identified from Robinson (2003) or, denoted by [Plant-Net], the Royal Botanic Garden of NSW Online Herbarium (2014). The scientific names of reptiles and frog were verified using Cogger (1996), bats using Churchill (2008), birds using Pizzey & Knight (1997), butterflies using Braby (2004), cicada using Moulds (1990), beetles using Hangary & Zborowski (2010) and damselfly using Hawking & Theischinger (2006).

‘NHIRLC’ indicates the Natural History Illustration Research Laboratory Collection, a repository of zoological reference specimen contained in the University of Newcastle Design Building. The information accompanying the entries below is a combination of my personal observation in the field and that sourced from the above listed field guides.

A note on the abundance of UoN Campus specimen: Kevin McDonald’s recent publication of an illustrated guide Don Morris Walk, a looping path through the wetlands to the North of the Campus grounds (2013), and The Friends of the University of Newcastle’s “A Bushland Campus”(1994) both emphasise the historical importance placed on native species and habitat types being maintained on campus. The proximity of this native vegetation provides readily available specimens of common local botanical species and has, in turn, has encouraged the presence of native animals.

Plants Flax-leafed or White Wattle Acacia linifolia (W2) [p.70, Plant-Net] This wattle is common in the Southern Hunter valley in sclerophyll woodlands and heath. It also appears as an ornamental plant in bush gardens. This species readily establishes itself on disturbed ground and is in blossom from December to April. My visual reference was a planted specimen by the Design building, Callaghan Campus. A26 Grey Mangrove Avicennia marina (W3) [p.392] This species of mangroves grows thickly along verges of the Hunter River from Stockton up through Hexham. During the first year of my undergraduate NHI degree I spent a semester focusing on the Mangrove habitats of Ash island.

Resurrection plant Bryophyllum pinnatum (S1) [Plant-Net] This is an introduced species that has been identified as a noxious weed. I have observed Resurrection plant and its close relative Mother of millions (B. delagoense) widely used as a garden ornamental Newcastle region. These plant readily reproduce through cuttings and shed leaves as well as seeds. Over the period of two months, an unwatered B. pinnatum leaf, collected as a visual reference and left resting on the windowsill of my studio, grew a new plantlet at each serration of the leaf (eight in total).

River She-oak Casuarina cunninghamiana [p.152] This species grows on the banks of fresh water swamps and waterways. Where the waterways approach estuaries and the ocean C. cunninghamiana are replaced by C. glauca which tolerate brackish water and then Mangroves. (A. marina). I have also noted instances of this species planted by local Councils on road sides in suburban areas, well away from waterways as well as growing in natural bush lands.

Swamp or Grey She-oak Casuarina glauca [p.152] This species may be observed growing on the banks of the Northern part of the Hunter River where the water tends to brackishness.

Traveller’s Joy or Old Man’s Beard Clematis aristata (SkO) [p.339] Clematis flowers thickly between October and November with white, aromatic flowers. I have seasonally observed it in the sclerophyll forest of Blackbutt Reserve and Callaghan Campus.

Hyacinth Orchid or Plum Pudding Flower Dipodius punctatum (S1) [p.245] I have observed this species growing on the Hunter side of Callaghan Campus and through Blackbutt Reserve. The site of individual plants can be revisited annually with the flower spikes regrowing from December to April. This species is leafless.

Common Hop Dodonaea triquetra (SkO) [p.211] I have observed this plant growing on Callaghan campus, in Blackbutt Reserve and instances of this genus in the open woodland of the Myall Lakes region. The lingual association of hops and beer, combined with the fact that this plant had historically been used as an alternate source of yeast for bread making, and brewing.

Broad-leaved Ironbark Eucalyptus fibrosa (S2) [p.48] This is a widespread species with a coarse fibrous bark. My reference specimen was sourced on Callaghan campus. A27 Scribbly Gum Eucalyptus haemastoma (S2) [p.33] The scribbles on the bark are caused by burrowing Moth larvae. My reference specimen was photographed on the bank of the Hunter River just North of Lochinvar, Maitland.

Spotted Gum Eucalyptus maculata (S1) [p.34] This species is one of the dominant Eucalyptus in Callaghan region and Blackbutt Reserve. I have observed Hyacinth Orchid growing near the bases and through the bark matter of this species. This striking tree sheds its bark with the approach of summer, a seasonally indicative behaviour recorded in my illustration.

Sand-Paper Fig Ficus coronata (S1) [p.367] This species fruit January to June and are found in semi-rainforest habitats. My reference photographs of the fruit were taken during a field trip to the Barrington Tops, March 2013.

Small-leafed Fig Ficus obliqua (S1) [Plant-Net] Mature instances of this species display impressive buttressing roots. My reference photographs of this species were collected over multiple annual undergraduate field trips to Peach-tree Park in Barrington Tops National Park (2008-2010). This location also has examples of mature Strangler Fig.

Strangler Fig Ficus watkinsiana (S2) [Plant-Net] This species is parasitic, growing from and over the branches and trunk of its host tree and eventually smothering. As the host rots away the supporting roots of strangler figs become free standing, creating windows and openings. One of the formative illustrated books in my childhood, Jeannie Baker’s children’s book “Where the Forest meets the Sea” (1989) included depictions of strangler figs with giant hollow trees with hidden animals. This early appeal may in part explain my fascination with them as an illustrative motif.

Wild Fennel Foeniculum vulgare (S1)(Plant-Net) This introduced species grows along roadside and on disturbed ground in Newcastle, at the Hunter Wetlands and throughout agricultural regions of the Hunter Valley. Seasonally this species dies back leaving tall dried stems and seed heads. I have observed umbel flower heads, such as that of fennel, used as a motif in Traditional Japanese, Art Nouveau and also contemporary decorative design.

Honeysuckle Grevillea Grevillea juncifolia (W4) [Plant-Net] This species flowers abundantly with orange flower spikes through most of the year. I have observed noisy miners (Manorina melanocephala) and Eastern Rosella (Platycercus eximius) feeding on the blossoms. This species is not listed in Robinson as being local to the region, nor does it appear in “The Don Morris Wetlands: and illustrated guide”(2013) or “A Bushland Campus”(1994) both of which lists native species found on the Callaghan property. This leads me to suspect the instances of this grevillea on campus may be a cultivated hybrid. A28 Golden Guinea Flower Hibbertia scandens (S1) [p.332] This plant flowers during the warmer months of the year. I have mainly observed it as a scrambling vine in open forest in Blackbutt Reserve and on Callaghan campus. This species does not weather picking well and had to be sketched in-situ or from photographs as it rapidly loses its petals.

Morning Glory Ipomoea indica (S2) [p.331] This is one of two introduced species of this genus found throughout the hunter in gardens and on waste ground. I. indica is the less aggressive with rich purple flowers and roughly heart shaped dark green leaves. The other is ‘Mile-a-minute’ (I. cairica) which has a palmate leaf and a smaller, pinker blossom. I associate I. indica with my high school years in Central Australia where my mother grew it as an ornamental in our backyard.

Jacaranda Jacaranda mimosifolia [Plant-Net] - This species originates from South Ameria and is used as an ornamental and street tree throughout much of Australia. Singleton and Maitland, and properties in this region are heavily planted with the species. From October- November the sky line is dominated by their purple blossoms.

Spiny Rush Juncus acutus (S1) [p.406, Plant-Net] I have observed this introduced species growing abundantly in the salt marshes of Ash island and also in the Hunter wetlands.

Running Postman Kennedia Rubricunda (skO) [p.335] A common and vigorous scrambing vine that bears single red pea blossom during Spring and Summer. This species grows abundant, and in my experience rapidly, in sunny locations. My sample was sketched from a native garden planting but I have also observed this species widespread in the region.

Box Brush Lophostomon confertus (SkO) [p.60] Specimen taken from street planted tree in Mayfield. This species was in flower in November.

Native Laurel or Sweet Laurel Pittosporum undulatum (S2) [p.196] This species is widely spread in the region. The bright red seeds in their gold fruit, are at first glance, reminiscent of pomegranate. This species has become a weed in some areas where it is not endemic.

Buttercups Ranunculus repens (S2) [p.200] Introduced species found in damp and swampy grounds. There are also native Ranunculus in the region but the leaves vary greatly from this species. This is a plant I associate with British pastural scenes, children’s book illustration and Irish marsh land. The rich petals have a bright yellow almost waxy appearance and flowers through Spring and Summer.

Dog Rose Rosa canina (S1) [Plant-Net] My visual references of this specimen were photographed growing over agricultural fencing along the roadside between Stockton and Stroud, North of Newcastle. I have observed other examples of this introduced species growing wild on agricultural properties near Watagan National Park and Maitland. A29 Native Raspberry Rubus rosifolius3 (S2) [p.340] I have observed this species growing on the edges of a car park in a Barrington Tops National Park and at the edge of a cow paddock in Martinsville, near Watagan National Park. This species is noted as preferring moist and sunny locations. This brambly plant flowers Spring-Summer and I have observed ripe fruit and flowers occurring simultaneously. The fruit is edible.

Willow Salix babylonia (S1) [Plant-Net] is a declared noxious weed that is common as both a planted and a self seeded species frequently visible along the banks of the Hunter River and other smaller water courses.

Samphire Sarcocornia quinqueflora (S1) [p.396] My previous research into the habitats of Ash Island included observing and sketching this unusually structured plant. Anecdotally, during the PostWW2 depression, locals were encouraged to eat samphire for the iodine content.

Lilly Pilly or Brush Cherry Syzigium australe (S2) [p.371] I have observed Lilly Pilly in Central Australia, Darwin and Adelaide as well as Sydney and Hunter Region as cultivated ornamental trees. They may be different species but do appear through habit, leaf and fruit, to be remarkably similar. The fruit is edible.

White Clover Trifolium repens (S2)(Plant-Net) This introduced species grows commonly in gardens, on ovals and in disturbed ground.

Fungus Bird’s Nest Fungus Cyathus novaezelandiae (SkO) [Australian Museum] This fungus grows on horse manure.

Striated Bird’s Nest Fungus C. striathus (S2) [Australian Museum] I had observed specimen of a Bird’s Nest Fungus (unidentified) in the Barrington tops several years ago but did not have personal references. In order to develop an understanding of the structure of this fungus I studied third party photographs as I had no luck in locating specimen in the field.

Insects Beetles Beetle Amarygmus sp. (S1) [p.178] This beetle was photographed at Two Rivers Winery just North of Denman some twenty metres from the Hunter River.

Transverse ladybug Coccinella transversalis (S2) [p.163] This is a widespread and commonly observable species. The majority of Ladybug species are predators. Transverse ladybugs are particularly encouraged by gardeners due to their preference for aphids. A30 Cicada: Floury Baker Abricta curvicosta (S2) [pp.119-120] Adults of this species emerge from late November to early April in the local region and are most abundant in late December and January. Adults are found on Paperbarks (Melaleucca sp) and Bottlebrush (Callistemon sp.) while the latter is a known food plant for the nymphs. The common name comes from the powdery white residue, reminiscent of flour, that covers recently emerged adult cicada of this species.

Green Grocer Cyclochila australasiae (S2) [pp.61-65] A common suburban cicada adults of this species are most abundant from November to December but are present from October to late January. This species readily roosts in an abundant variety of tall introduced as well as native trees. Eucalyptus saligna, Grevillea robusta, Lophostomon confertus, Weeping Willow and Liquidambar are but a few of the food plants readily available in this region. There are several colour variants beyond the more common pea green form. “Yellow Monday” is the only other specimen type I have encountered thus far. Other existing variants are “Blue Moon” (turquoise), “Chocolate Soldier” (tan) and “Masked Devil” (yellow or green with black markings).

Cherry-nose or Whiskey Drinker Macrotristria angularis (S2) [pp.95-97] The adults of this species is most common in late November to December but has been recorded present between October and February. The genus Angophora and Casuarina are listed as food plants but species are not specified.

Black Prince Psaltoda argenta (S2) [pp.81-83, Australian Museum] Previously P. plaga (1909) and P. Argentata (1961). This species is most abundant December to January but have been noted to survive until June in warmer climates. Black Prince specimen are noted to prefer River She-oak (Casurina cunninghamiana) and be present near permanent water sources. Inland, in the Hunter Region, additional food plants are the Rough-barked Apple (Angophora floribunda) and Weeping Willow. All of these plants, food sources for both adult and nymph stages.

Red-eye Cicada Psaltoda moerens (S2) [pp.75-77] This species is most abundant in November and scarce by early February. Preferred food plants for both nymphal and adults of this species in the Newcastle region are native Smooth-barked Apple (Angophora costata) and Flooded Gum (Eucalyptus grandis), also introduced Weeping Willow (Salix babylonica) and Liquidambar (Liquidambar styraciflua).

Double drummer Thopha saccata (S2) [pp.55-56] This is a common coastal species in the region, adults occur from November to March and may be abundant at any time prior to March. Moulds (1990) provides no plant species associated with this cicada but mentions the pupa casings being found at the base Eucalypts. A31 Butterflies and moths : White Stemmed Wattle Moth Chelepteryx chelypteryx (S1) [NHIRLC] The specimens were collected from Meadowie, NSW, and had genus identification on a card. Photographic references from Coff’s Harbour Butterfly House verify this identification and further inform that the depicted specimen are male (females are duller in colour and have unplumed antennae) (Crossley & Herbison-Evans 2013)

Orchard butterfly or Large Citrus Butterfly, Papilio aegeus (S1) [pp.118-119] I have heard this species described locally as ‘Jezebels’ though in these are a completely separate family of butterfly. I used specimen from the NHIRLC for reference but have also observed them on the wing at the Hunter Wetlands and on Ash Island in the Hunter River.

Cabbage White Butterfly Pieris rapae (S1) [pp.148-149] This is a common visitor to my garden and a familiar agricultural pest.

Common Grass Blue or Common Blue Zizina labradus (W2) [pp.300-301] This specimen was loosely drawn from memory. I have observed this and similar moths fluttering amidst long grasses in various habitats of the Hunter. Their food plants are native and introduced legumes.

Other Insects Damselfly Xanthagrion erythroneurum (S1) [p.91] Identified through personal correspondence with G. Theischinger. I photographed the specimen resting on a branch of Casuarina cunninghamiana by the Hunter River North of Maitland in late Summer.

Potters Wasp (Paralastor sp.) (Abispa sp.)(S2) [Australian Museum] This genus of wasp lay their eggs in other insects, usually caterpillars, before walling the prey into purpose built clay vessels. I have observed these as single and multiple chamber constructions. While these chambers are being filled with prey, they often have had a flared lip at the entrance, reminiscent of the rim of a crockery pot. I have most often seen these ‘nests’ under the eaves of buildings or on walls. The photographic references for the nests were taken at an amenities building in Blackbutt Reserve, NSW.

Common Blue-banded Bee Amegilla cingulata (S2) [Australian Museum] This is a solitary native species of bee. The reference photograph was taken in my own suburban garden, Mayfield, in the early morning. The specimen was gripping a dried pumpkin stem using its moth parts and appeared to have spent the night resting in this fashion. Commonly this species nests in burrows in sandstone, mortar or mud-bricks. A32 Reptiles and amphibians My own experience in Central Australia, where reptile biodiversity is high, had lead me to expect a similar abundance locally. On consulting Cogger’s (1996) distribution maps I realised that lizard biodiversity in the Newcastle region this area is far less than I had expected and set aside an early intention to make lizards, rather than birds the dominant animal species depicted.

Robust Ctenotus Ctenotus robustus (S1, W5) [p.439]. This species was the focus of my research for an undergraduate project in 2011. I have observed this species in coastal heath, in the Hunter Wetlands and on Callaghan campus, as well as in my own laundry and garden in suburban Mayfield. This was one of the species identified, in discussion with herpetologists, as being representative of reptiles commonly found in the region (M. Mahony personal correspondance) Swan, Shea & Sadlier (2004) provided the rather generic common name for this species.

Wood Gecko Diplodactylus vittatus (S1) [pp.232-233] Geckos are common from my youth, I have seen few in the Hunter Region. C. Vittatus, according to Cogger (1996), is a terrestrial gecko that may be found during the day -- making it suitable for depiction in the intended scene of the scroll. The few gecko species I have encountered locally have been nocturnal. I did also have references of the Southern Leaf-Tailed Gecko (Phyllurus platurus) [p270-271] from a live specimen observed in the Barrington Tops but this did not suit the composition.

Peron’s Tree Frog Litoria peronii (S1) [p.148] This is a species I have personally encountered in a variety of habitat types around the Hunter region. It is audibly present on University campus grounds and is common in the region according to personal correspondence with Dr Michael Mahony (Frog specialist) and Rhiona Tindal (Frog illustration specialist). Photographs of this species were supplied, with permission to use for reference, by Rhiona Tindal. The specimen was photographed at Tomaree Golf Course, NSW.

Lace Monitor Varanus varius (S2) [p.379] This species is a common arborial varanid with a distribution that extends along most of the East coast from Victoria up towards Cairnes. I have personally observed this species on the ground in Blackbutt sclerophyll, perusing the verges of the camp sites and aloft on a tree trunk at Barrington Tops National Park. This species is predominantly a nest robber but will also consume carrion and small animals.

Birds Throughout, from my past Environmental studies, I have carried the knowledge that Australia’s abundance of biodiversity lies in its reptile species. However it is birds that are, as far as I have observed, the most abundantly visible and audible native animals in our landscape. The dominant number of animals depicted in the creative works are birds. Apart from the pigeons they are all native species. A33 Barn Owl Tyto alba (SkO) [pp.306-307] A nocturnal species found in a wide variety of habitats and across the majority of Australia. The owl is commonly associated in popular myth with wisdom. I sketched this species while considered visual associations for the Rubaiyat line “Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss’d” (QXXV). The references were mounted skins held in the NHIRL collection.

Sulfur-Crested Cockatoo Cacatua galerita (S2, W1) [pp.264-5] This species is one of Australia’s more iconic bird species. According to Pizzey and Knight (1997) they are sedentary but the populations that I have observed on campus seem to be seasonally present. This may be due to an abundance of flowering or fruiting trees in the area at particular times of the year. This species may be seen tearing into the lawns of sporting ovals as readily as into eucalyptus trees in open forest. I have often found them to be audible before they are visible.

Golden Headed Cisticola or Tailor Bird Cisticola exilis (S2) [pp.510-511] This is a species I have yet to observe for myself. I used a range of photographic references to develop an understanding of the structure and markings of the bird for the artwork. This species is usually found near watercourses where it builds small rounded nests low in shrubs, vines or tussocks. This bird was initially researched for its elongated cup shaped nest for the Kúza-Náma illustrations. The composition changed and the bird rather than the nest was depicted and in a different part of the design.

Feral Pigeon, Homing pigeon or Rock Dove Columba livia (S1) [pp.242-3] This species originates from Northern Europe, Southern Africa and Western Asia. The flocks of birds depicted in the scroll are based on my observations and photographs of a large flock of domesticated homing pigeons circling above their dovecote in Millfield, NSW. This species appears less numerous in Newcastle and Maitland cities than I have observed in Southern cities. This may be due to competition with the Indian Myna (Acridotheres tristis) [p.515- 517] an aggressive introduced species.

Australasian Coot Fulica atra (S2) [pp.154-5] I have observed this species, with chicks in tow, at the Hunter Wetlands and in the Callaghan campus wetlands. This species is wide spread across most of Australia. This species is found in wetlands, saline and fresh, which has dense undergrowth.

Rose Crowned Fruit Dove Ptilinopus regina (S1) [pp.256-7] This fructivorous bird may be found in a wide range of habitats that include gardens and orchards to vine thickets, rainforest and wetlands. My references come from specimens from the NHIRL collection and my own photographs of live specimens from the aviaries of the Australian Reptile Park, NSW. A34 Spotted Pardalote Pardalotus puncatus (SkO) [pp.346-347] This species is a bright and decoratively plumaged bird. I have observed it in Blackbutt National Reserve and Myall Lakes Region. My sketches of this species were made from mounted specimens on display in the South Australian Museum and some third party photographs (Sk1.pp17-18, 25-26, 50).

Bottleswallow or Fairy Martin Petrochelidon ariel (S2) [pp.504-5] I have observed nests on the walls under the eaves on an amenities block in Blackbutt Reserve and on a sheltered wall of the Visitors Centre at Hunter Wetlands and the birds flying low over ovals, and across waterways. This species is seasonally migratory. Their abandoned nests are known to be used by small opportunistic fliers including pardalotes and microbats.

Eastern Rosella Platycercus eximius (S2) [pp.278-9] I have observed this bird on campus grazing on various Oval lawns, flying through the sclerophyll forest at Blackbutt Reserve and on the wing over agricultural pastures. I referred to mounted specimens from NHIRL collection for feather pattern and colours.

Willy Wagtail Rhipidura leucophrys (S1) [pp.446-447] This insectivorous species is found throughout Australia in all habitat types but dense forest. I have mainly observed it in open habitat and pouncing out from fence posts and similar vantage points after insects. I drew this species from memory, being long familiar with their outline, posture and behaviour.

Regent Bowerbird Sericulus chrysocephalus (SkO) [pp.477-478] The sketches made of this species were from mounted skins from NHIRL collection. The specimen is male, distinctly by the plumage. I depicted this species in the first Scroll draft 1 but later replaced it for a Rose-crowned Fruit Dove.

Beautiful firetail Stagonopleura bella (SkO) [pp.492-493] This species habit of constructing bottle shaped nest briefly directed me to consider depicting it in the Winter Scroll. I have yet to observe it in the field and as a brief internet search revealed no clear references of the nest structure the concept was set aside.

Tern (Sterna sp.) (S1) [pp 230-231] This species was only alluded to by simplified silhouette in the Summer Scroll. There are nine species of Tern that seasonally visit the coastal region of Newcastle (Pizzey & Knight 1997). Five of these have been documented on Ash Island (Stuart 2001).

Sacred Kingfisher Todiramphus sanctus (S1) [pp.318-9] This species is widespread across Australia and North across islands into Indonesia. The species is migrant, Spring-summer breeding. I have observed this species in the open woodlands between watercourses at the Hunter Wetlands and also in the mangroves of Ash Island. Mounted specimen from the NHIRLC provided references for this species. A35 Scaly-breasted Lorikeet (Trichoglossus chlorolepdotus)(S2) [pp 266-7] This species is found from urban and agricultural landscapes to open woodlands and eucalyptus forests. References for this specimen were photographed in the main aviary of Blackbutt Reserve.

Silvereye Zoestrops lateralis (SkO) [pp.512-513] This small bird species can be readily observed in coastal and sub-coastal heath-lands both North and South of Newcastle.

Mammals Bats are the only mammals, apart from humans, to feature in The Hunter Rubáiyát. Bats continue to fascinate me. They are the only mammal to achieve true flight, they hold a vital and largely unrecognised ecological role in almost every type of habitat, and their physical adaptations are remarkable. My honours year project involved investigating and depicting different cultural responses to bats based on folk stories and scientifically illustrating the bat species of Central Australia. This past research has informed the anatomy and composition of the bat illustrations for The Hunter Rubáiyát. It also lead to my decision to depict bats multiple times in the artworks, reinforcing their presence in the environment.

Gould’s Wattled Bat Chalinolobus gouldii (S1) [pp.116-117] This microbat is common and widespread across Australia. It can be found in rural and suburban areas as well as native bushland. This insectivorous species comes out during twilight, making it one of the most readily visible of our microbat species. C. gouldii is one of the species I illustrated in both the third and honours year of my undergraduate degree. References for the Hunter Rubaiyat were drawn from the sketches and photographs that I made of live specimen in the care of a wildlife rescue worker based in Terrigal NSW, in 2009, and from preserved specimen held in the Australian Museum collection during 2009-2010.

Grey-headed Flying-Fox Pteropus poliocephalus (S2) [pp.76-77] This species usually roosts near water and can form large colonies. P. poliocephalus is predominantly fructivorous, consuming native and introduced types of fruit. This flying-fox species in particular has come into conflict with orchard growers and botanic garden caretakers for their damage to vegetation and crops. There has also been a media-fed growing fear of bats as a vector for disease that has further turned popular opinion against them (Australasian Bat Society 2013). My references for this species come from live specimen at the Australian Reptile Centre.

Little Red Flying-Fox Pteroptus scapulatus (W4) [pp.78-79] This species is predominantly nectivorous and nomadic, moving on every 4-6 weeks following the availability of flowering trees and shrubs. When nectar is in short supply they will also consume insects, sap and fruit. This species forms large colonies and commonly share roost space with other fruit bats. The Little Red is the only flying fox to be found, seasonally, in Central Australia. My references come from preserved specimen held at the Australian museum and from photographs taken on my behalf by Wildlife rescue worker. A36 C.2 - Third party image references from Sketchbooks Webpage references marked with a * were no longer available when checked on 27 January 2015

Bain, G 1984, Celtic Art: The Methods of Construction, Constable, London. (Sk2.p58)

Bodleian Library, 2013, MS Ouseley 140, Bodleian Library, viewed 14 February 2013, http://bodley30.bodley.ox.ac.uk:8180/luna/servlet/view/all/what/MS.+Ouseley+140 (Sk4.p14)

Brown, K H 2008, Visions of Japan : Kawase Hasui’s Masterpieces, Hotei, Boston. (Sk4.p07-10)

Canby, S 1999, The Golden Age of Persian Art, British Museum, London. (Sk1.p80, p92)

Divakaran, M 2011, “Singapore 2011: Day 2 – Jurong Bird Park and… *ouch!*”, Mithun on the Net, web log post, 15 December, viewed 10 January 2013, http://mithunonthe.net/2011/12/15/singapore-2011-jurong-bird-park-shows- photos-and-injur (Sk3.p49)

Elliott, A, Hoyo, J, Sargatal J & Cabot, J (eds), 2006, Handbook of Birds of the World Vol 11, Lynx, Barcelona. (Sk3.p15)

Fear, A n.d. , Fluffy Feathers, viewed 21 September 2012, http://fluffyfeathers.com (Sk3.p19)*

Townsville Region Bird Observers Club, Cisticola exilis, viewed 21 September 2012, http:// www.trboc.org.au/album_len_large5.html (Sk3.p18)*

Ozanimals, n.d., Golden-headed Cisticola (Cisticola exilis), viewed 21 September 2012, http://www.ozanimals.com/Bird/Golden-headed-cisticola/cisticola/exilis.html (Sk3.p15)

Healey, J (ed.) 1997, Encyclopaedia of Australian Animals, Readers Digest, Sydney. (Sk1.p19, Sk3.p45)

Meyers, D 2009, ‘How to Keep Kids Enjoying Sport’, Examiner, 2 July, viewed 3 December 2012, http://www.examiner.com/article/how-to-keep-kids-loving-and-playing- sports (Sk2.p83)

Mineely, D c.2008, Debra’s photographs - Cockatoo, viewed 8 January 2013, https://www. flickr.com/search/?w=59138347@N00&q=cockatoo (Sk3.p46) A37 Australian National Botanic Garden 2012, Cyathus novae-zealandiae, viewed 7th November 2012, http://www.anbg.gov.au/fungi/images-captions/cyathus-sp-0077. html (Sk2.p63)

Australian National Botanic Garden 2014, Birds Nest and Cannonball Fungi, viewed 23 May 2014, http://www.anbg.gov.au/fungi/birds-nest-cannonball.html (Sk2.p63)

Campbell, P 2004, Fairy Martin Nests, viewed 24 November 2013, https://www.flickr. com/photos/outback_traveller/2721715405/in/photolist-59vtVi-e2jWUM-59Ac4o- e2WNdj-59vuyZ-5euL8w-59vvaF/player/ (Sk2.p75)

Climate Watch 2012, Greengrocer or Yellow Monday Cicada, viewed 5 October 2013, http://www.climatewatch.org.au/species/insects/greengrocer-or-yellow-monday- cicada (Sk2.p27)

Cogger, H 1996, Reptiles and Amphibians of Australia, 5th edn, Reed, Victoria. (Sk3. p35-36)

Dahlem, M 2010, Fairy Martin (Petrochelidon [Hiruno] ariel), viewed 24 November 2013, http://www.mdahlem.net/birds/25/fmartin.php (Sk2.74)

Dean, L 2012, “Next Real Weather system? And Soccer here we come!”, Extreme Chase Tornado Hunter, web log post, 8 February, viewed 3 December 2013, http://lannydean. blogspot.com.au/2012/02/next-real-weather-system-and-soccer.html (Sk2.84)

Chew, P 2012, FAMILY VESPIDAE, Eumeninae - Potter Wasps, Mud Nesting Wasps, viewed 19 September 2012, http://www.brisbaneinsects.com/brisbane_vespoidwasps/ Eumeninae.htm (Sk3.p17)

Fraser, I 2013, “Yellow in small scale”, Ian Fraser talking naturally, web log post, 21 June, viewed 9 October 2013, http://ianfrasertalkingnaturally.blogspot.com.au/2013/06/ yellow-in-small-scale.html ( Sk2.p27)

Hansch, L 2010, Fairy Martin Photo: Nest building | The internet Bird Collection, viewed 24 November 2013, http://ibc.lynxeds.com/photo/fairy-martin-petrochelidon-ariel/ nest-building (S2.p77)

Ilyas, R 2012, “Fairy Martin”, birds free wallpaper 99, web log post, 12 June, viewed 24 November 2013, http://birdsfreewallpaper99.blogspot.com.au/2012/06/fairy-martin. html (S2.p77)

Joseph,L & Olsen, P 2011, Stray Feathers, CSIRO, Collingwood, VIC. (Sk3.p16) A38 Knight, F & Pizzey, G 1997, Field Guide to Birds of Australia, Harper Colllins, Sydney. (Sk2.p59)

Leichardt Council 2011, Grey Headed flying fox, viewed 27 August 2012, http://www. leichhardt.nsw.gov.au/Grey_Headed_Flying_Fox.html (Sk3.p09)* has moved to the below location:

Leichardt Council 2013, Grey-headed Flying Fox, viewed 28 January 2014, http://www. leichhardt.nsw.gov.au/Environment---Sustainability/Biodiversity-and-Bushcare/Local- Fauna/Mammals/Grey-headed-Flying-Fox/Grey-Headed-Flying-Fox (Sk3.p09)

Lindgren, E 2010, Fairy Martin approaching bottle nest-Brisbane Australia, viewed 24 November 2013, http://eric-lindgren.photoshelter.com/gallery-image/Birds/ G00002eO1J7HAZkY/I0000wOZbv8OmskM (S2.p73)

Lewis, D 2005, Fairy Martin (Petrochelidon ariel) At nest, viewed 24 November 2013, http://dl.id.au/g.php?c=1&i=382 (S2.p73)

Lewis, D 2010, Fairy Martin (Petrochelidon ariel), viewed 24 November 2013, http://dl.id. au/g.php?c=1&i=994 (S2.p77)

Lochtefeld, J 2005, Islamic Art, viewed 4 October 2012, http://personal.carthage.edu/ jlochtefeld/indiajterm/islamicart.html (Sk3.24-25)

Museum of Victoria n.d., Summer wildlife, viewed 27 September 2012, http:// museumvictoria.museum/about/mv-news/2007/summer-wildlife (S3.p09)

Paris, D 2010, Fairy Martin Petrochelidon ariel, viewed 24 November 2013, http://www. dparis.com/bird/fairy-martin/ (S2.p73)

Park, G 2011, “Bottle Swallow nesting”, Natural Newstead, web log post, 15 September, viewed 24 November 2013, http://geoffpark.wordpress.com/2011/09/15/bottle- swallow-nesting/ (S2.p75)

Porter, V 2003, Mightier than the sword : arabic script beauty and meaning, The Ian Potter Museum of Art, Victoria. (Sk1.p47)

Queensland Museum 2014, Mud Dauber and Potter wasps, viewed 19 September 2012, http://www.qm.qld.gov.au/Find+out+about/Animals+of+Queensland/Insects/ Wasps+and+bees/Common+species/Mud+Dauber+and+Potter+wasps#.VMhNPFo0- ng (Sk3.p17) A39 Ramsey, B n.d, Fairy Martin, 74Melbourne Bird Observation Club Australia, viewed 24 November 2012, http://www.melboca.org.au/identification/martins/index.html (Sk2.76)*

Our Journey to Smile, 2009, “Playing soccer by the graveyard in Afghanistan”, Our Journey to Smile, web log post, 15 December, viewed 3 December 2013, http://journeytosmile. wordpress.com/2009/05/24/playing-soccer-by-the-graveyard-in-afghanistan/ (Sk2.p84)

Rowland, P 1999, A photographic guide to birds of Australia, Australian Museum, Sydney. (Sk3.p16)

Scott, P 2001, Turkish Delights, Thames & Hudson, London. (Sk1.p79)

Strollerderby, 2012, Kids in Soccer image stock, photograph, viewed 3 December 2012, http://cdn.blogs.babble.com/strollerderby/files/2012/09/kidssocceristock.jpg (Sk2.83)*

Takoma Soccer, 2014, Takoma Soccer, viewed 3 December 2012, http://takomasoccer.org/ images/homepic2.jpg (Sk2.p84)

Titley, N 1991, Oriental Gardens, The British Library, London. (S2.p69-70)

University of Cambridge, Grey Headed Flying Fox, viewed 27 August 2012, http://www. zoo.cam.ac.uk/zoostaff/bbe/welbergen/GHFlyingFox.html (Sk3.p09)*

WIRES Northern River, 2012, Flying Fox, viewed 27 August 2012, http://www.wiresnr. org/bats.html (Sk3.p09)

Wade, P (ed.) 1977, Every Australian Bird Illustrated, Rigby, Adelaide. (Sk2.p53)

Yaymicro 2014, Soccer kids, viewed 3 December 2012, http://yaymicro.com/stock-image/ soccer-kids/1647637 (Sk2.p84) A40 Appendix D - Additional Research D.1 - Paper Research

D.1.1 Origins and influences The differences in ‘Western’ and ‘Eastern’ paper as we know it today have been directed by the preferred writing technologies of those cultural groups. In considering the paper characteristics required for my creative work I became increasingly aware of the historical influence that writing technologies have had on developing these divergent paper types. This awareness has fed into my understanding of the different surfaces that I have engaged with in the past and for this creative project.

There are many cultural variations in papermaking technique. These are comprehensively examined in Dard Hunter’s “Papermaking The History and Technique of and Ancient Craft” (1974). My interest has been in a comparison between modern, mechanically made papers from the European tradition and handmade Japanese paper: ‘Washi’ (和紙). The differences in absorbency, density, flexibility and texture between the two paper types is distinct and can be traced back to their historic uses.

The invention of paper occurred in China circa 105AD. This writing surface was made from beaten scraps of fabric. This technology, along with writing, court culture and religion, was adopted and adapted by surrounding countries. Chinese writing has traditionally been carried out by brush. This style of writing technology requires the substrate to absorb the ink. The bleed of ink on these surfaces is factored into the writing process with paper often folded doubled to prevent excess ink from marking the next page (Ikegami 2007).

In Europe paper was not widely until the 15th Century (Hunter 1974). Parchment (processed animal skin) was the main writing surfaces for important documents. Hard tipped writing implements such as stylus and bird quills were used to write or draw onto the smooth, non absorbent surface of sized parchment (Ryder 2009, Poulakakis, N et al. 2003). Small errors could be scraped from the surface using pumice. In some cases, as the surface was expensive to manufacture, entire pages might be washed or scraped clean and reused (Clemens & Graham 2007, p. 67). Paper was imported from the Middle East and was not initially well received for writing purposes. When the printing industry’s demands outstripped the availability of parchment, paper became increasingly used and the quality improved (Hunter 1974). The characteristics of this paper developed to suit the printing process, which in turn emulated writing on parchment surfaces. Historically the surface of the paper was sized with gelatin to increase durability and reduce absorbency (Clemens & Graham 2007 Hunter, 1974). Modern sizing is commonly made from clay (Bonadea 1995). Since the 1700’s Western paper-making has involved the laceration rather than the pulverisation of fibres to make pulp. This creates a shorter fibre than the maceration process (Hunter 1974). From the 1860s cellulose from wood-chips has become widely used for cheap paper while 100% cotton rag remains in use for higher quality papers. Usually paper pulp is chemically bleached (BonaDea 1995). The surface of each sheet of A41 paper is further flattened and ‘burnished’ (with the exception of some art papers, i.e. rough surfaced watercolour paper) by being flattened between heated rollers. This process creates a directional ‘paper grain’ that affects the behaviour of the paper when wet or torn.

Japanese “Washi” in particular is well known in the art world for strength, delicacy and diversity of use. Though often referred to as ‘rice paper’ in the West, washi is usually made from the bark of the Paper Mulberry or Kōzo (楮)(Broussonetia kazinoki sometimes interchangeably referred to as B. Papyrifera). Two other, less common, washi fibres are sourced from the bark of Gampi (雁皮) (Wikstroemia sikokiana) and Mitsumata (三椏) (Edgeworthia chrysantha) . (Hiromi 2012, Belard 2010). These fibres are softer than the flax and cotton used in Western paper-making (Hunter 1974). The papermaking process for Washi is time and labour intensive. This paper is made by harvesting bark from the fibre plant. The bark is stripped of its darker outer layer, soaked and then sun or snow bleached. The fibre is then boiled and then beaten until the fibres shred apart. This pulpy material is then suspended in water using an extract from the root of Hibiscus manihot which also acts as a binder (Ikegami 1988, Hiromi 2012). Fibre is repeatedly scooped from suspension into a flat mould until the desired paper thickness is achieved. The only compression of each piece of paper comes from the weight of subsequent sheets being ‘couched’ (stacked) on top of the pile and finally topped with a weighted board to press out extra fluid. The resulting paper has an open fibre that readily absorbs ink, paint and other liquid media. It is also equally flexible in all directions across its surface. I observed this paper-making process at Mino Paper-Craft Centre in Nagano prefecture, Japan in October, 2012.

Figure D.1 Paper making in progress, Mino Ota, Japan 2012. A42 Paper-making spread from China through the Middle East to Spain during the 11th Century. By the late 15th century paper was present in use across Europe and in Britain. Paper produced in the West at this time however was considered inferior to parchment and not used for important documents (Clemens & Graham 2007, p.7, Hunter 1974). European papermaking technology adapted to suit the types of fibre available and to replicate the preferred smooth, non-absorbent surface of parchment. It was not widely used in Europe until the rise of printing technology when parchment ceased to be viable for the commercial demand for print substrate. Over time, as the quality of European paper improved, this surface became increasingly used for other documents (Hunter 1974). The modern tightly compressed pulp structure of Western paper reflects this evolution of western writing technology, as do many art materials. Watercolour papers are primed with a surface that allows the paint to flow smoothly over thesurface of the paper. The modern ballpoint pen and marker, oil paints and pastel, printing and photocopying technology all developed from this history of surface writing. The West is fond of crisp, tight lines of text – something difficult to achieve on an absorbent paper.

Where the West wrote, and continues to write on the surface of the paper, historically the far East wrote into the paper.

Ink composition differs between the far East and Europe. This is reflected in the divergent characteristics of their papers. Chinese ink contains lamp soot (carbon) which does not spread far into the paper. In comparison historic European writing inks were thinner acidic fluids that readily bled if not used on a dense non absorbent surface (Clement & Graham 2007, p.8).

This sizing and the structural differences between Western and Eastern paper can be readily observed in the next section. A43 D.1.2 - A closer look at paper To augment my understanding of the papers I made use of the UoN’s Electron Microscope to compare the three Western papers with the two types of Japanese paper recommended for scroll painting. This investigation verified the presence of fillers in the Western paper, their absence in Japanese paper and allowed a closer inspection of the structural differences between these five papers.

Reflextm Printer/Photocopier Paper 80gsm Photocopy paper is necessarily smooth surfaced. This particular brand is widely available locally and forms the substrate for Scroll Drafts 2, 3 and this exegesis

Figure D.1.2.1 Reflex photocopy paper, 100x magnification.

Under the microscope this paper has a closed and matted surface. At greater magnification abundant chalky filler is visible filling the spaces around the fibres (Figure D1.2.2).

Figure D.1.2.2 Reflex photocopy paper, 1500x magnification. A44 Archestm Cold Pressed Watercolour paper 300gsm Cold pressed watercolour paper has a rough surface that makes it particularly suitable to dry-brush techniques and large, dynamic brushwork.

Figure D.1.2.3 Arches Cold-Pressed, 100x magnification.

The Cold-pressed paper fibres are less regular in size than the Reflex paper but give the impression of a densely matted surface; the quantity of filler material is also smaller.

Figure D.1.2.4 Arches Cold-Pressed, 1500x magnification A45 Archestm Hot-Pressed Watercolour 180gsm Hot-pressed watercolour paper provides a smooth surface ideal for fine detail work. This surface, like that of the cold pressed, is primed to facilitate smooth washes of pigment.

Figure D.1.2.5 Arches Hot-Pressed, 100x magnification.

Closer magnification reveals this Hot-Press paper has both filler and additional content. The radial cog-like structures visible here were identified as pigments by the UoNElectron Microscope and X-Ray Unit technician. I have not further investigated the type of pigments used as such questions are well beyond the scope of this project and my own field. Given the purpose of the substrate I believe they are likely to be white and added to further brighten the surface of the paper.

Figure D.1.2.6 Arches Hot-Pressed, 1500x magnification. A46 Kōzo 33gsm Kōzo paper comes in a variety of weights and for a myriad of purposes. The sample material was intended for Japanese style brush paintings and is the same paper as that used in The Hunter Rubáiyát Scrolls.

Figure D.1.2.7 Kōzo, 100x magnification.

Kōzo has a distinctly ‘open weave’ when compared to the Western samples. Kōzo fibres are also flatter and straighter. The length of the fibres, described in texts and anecdotally as being longer than the Western papers, are not readily comparable in these samples. However, the width of the fibres are noticeably wider in both the kōzo, and gampi samples.

At 1500x magnification below the sample still contains no evidence of filler of any sort (Figure D.1.2.8).

Figure D.1.2.8 Kōzo, 1500x magnification. A47 Gampi 15gsm Gampi has a particularly shiny translucency and is associated with high quality paper (Hiromi 2012). This is the traditionally used substrate for narrative scroll painting (Thompson 2012, Belard 2010). Gampi is less absorbent to water (Belard 2010) gampi fibres are shorter but more resistant to damp and insects (Salter 2001)

Figure D.1.2.9 Gampi, 100x magnification.

Like the kōzo paper gampi shows no fillers and has comparatively straight fibres. In this sample the fibres appears flatter and more consistent in width than in the kōzo sample.

Figure D.1.2.10 Gampi, 1500x magnification. A49 D.2 Scrolls in the West

Japanese scrolls have been the focus of the exegesis, however, during the course of my research I also investigated the history of European scrolls and their current uses in modern times. Below is a very brief overview of my findings.

Western Scrolls - a historical overview Scrolls were originally made from papyrus and then, when limited supplies of this substrate forced alternative writing surfaces to be sourced, parchment (animal skin) (Weston 2014). Despite the introduction of the codex (book) format early in the Christian era, scrolls continued to be utilised in the West. The continuous surface is particularly suited to long records which receive frequent additions such as genealogies, parish rolls, accounts and judicial records; documents that require continuous reading, examples of which include announcements and oratory compositions and ceremonial texts like liturgical documents. In England, the Royal Exchequer’s auditing records were maintained on scrolls until as late as 1832 (Clemens & Graham 2007).

The religious text of the Jewish Torah continues to be written entirely by hand on scrolls in the present day, as do some individual books from the Bible (Weston 2014, Clemens & Graham 2007, Spiegel 2004). Lavishly ornamented scroll cases, designed to contain and protect these sacred texts, can be seen in Figure D.2 A Torah Scroll on hand rollers the collections of museums and galleries (Bridgeman (based on Weston 2014). Art Library 2012).  The phrase ‘scrolling’ remains commonly used today to describe the way we view and interact with images or text on a digital screen, however the physical artefacts themselves have little or no part in modern Western life. A50

Appendices E - Exhibition E.1 Exhibition Reviews and Articles

Figure E.1.1 - Artand, issue 51, March 2014. A51

Figure E.1.2 - imag March 2014. A52

Figure E.1.3 - The Hunter Post 12th March 2014. A53

Figure E.1.4 - Maitland City Council media report 28th March 2014. A54

Figure E.1.5 - The Maitland Mercury 28th February 2014. A55

Figure E.1.6 - The Maitland Mercury 25th April 2014. A56

Figure E .1.7 The external signage for the MRAG exhibition and one mildly elated PhD candidate.

E.2 Text provided for MRAG exhibition

(About the artist) Tallulah Cunningham hales from arid and remote Alice Springs, Australia. She travelled to Newcastle, and has remained since, for the sake of the University of Newcastle’s Natural History Illustration degree which she commenced in 2007. She was awarded her Bachelor in this field, with first class honours, a Faculty and a University Medal in 2011. Talluah took a year’s sabbatical to refine her Masters project proposal in that same degree. During this time she worked with Dr Trevor Weekes on Maitland Gallery’s River Stories exhibi- tion, designed the backdrop for Michael Ewan’s production of Woyzek, was commissioned to paint a mural celebrating the twentieth anniversary for the John Hunter Hospital and began learning Japanese. She enrolled in her masters of Philosophy, Natural History Illus- tration, in 2012. Her focus has been illustrating Edward FitzGerald’s Victorian era ‘Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám’ into an Australian context using the Hunter Valley as the setting. This exhibi- tion was to be her final show of work for a Masters of Philosophy, however, at the recom- mendation of the University of Newcastle’s RhD confirmation panel, she has transferred to PhD candidature. This exhibition reflects the cumulation of the RhD work so far. A57

(about the text) ‘Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám’ has a romantic history. It is only by chance that the original modest and self published pamphlet became one of the most quoted texts of the English language. In 1886* Edward FitzGerald anonymously produced a small edition of his translation of poems attributed to the 11thC Persian Mathematician Omar Khayyám. This ‘Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám’ remained unnoticed for two years later and then was discovered and pro- moted by the Pre-Raphaelites. Rossetti and his circle circulated their copies, made dupli- cates, Ruskin raved over it. The Victorian taste for the oriental met the increasing agnostic ruminations of the time and the Rubáiyát hit the spot directly. This rocketing popularity was assisted by changes to print technology that allowed the text to be produced in editions suitable to every income. It was sold in deluxe illustrated gift books and cheap pocket sized copies, many of which were carried to war by soldiers. By the early 20th Century there were few literate homes in England that did not have at least one copy. The romantic, oriental flavour of the text has inspired well over a hundred different il- lustrators to try their hand at representing the poems. Edmund Dulac, William Pogany and Ronald Balfour are but a few popular artists that contributed to the slew of gorgeous images accompanying Rubáiyát editions. But these images all carry the same fault. They depict an idyllic, mythic distant past, fantasy places that their readers cannot encounter or experience. FitzGerald’s poems are not about other-wheres or whens - they are about Here and Now, and the recognition that time is passing and will not return. The Rubáiyát con- stantly urges the reader to drink happily from the cup of the present, to enjoy the company of friends and not waste time fretting about death, for it is inevitable and will come soon enough. My illustration focuses on that immediacy in FitzGerald’s text rather than the traditional oriental romance of past depictions. Though I recognise my illustrations will become dated as time passes they are, for the now, depicting The Now. The Hunter Valley lends itself particularly well to being a setting for FitzGerald’s Rubáiyát - the poems constantly refer to wine, grapes and gardens. These are elements promoted by the region. But the Hunter valley isn’t merely an idyllic tourist location. It contains a vast quantity more than the wineries. The landscapes depicted are a cross section of the Hunt- er visible to a traveller passing through the area. They include environments of industry, agriculture, native vegetation and human infrastructure. I have included the rubbish, the weeds, the wild flowers and the roadworks - the new environments we have created, the old environments that remain, within which we live, commute and spend our leisure time. Interspersed throughout are Rubáiyát.

(about me and the Rubáiyát) The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám is precious to me for a myriad of reasons. My mother introduced it to me while I was in High School. I must have been about fourteen and frantic to complete an English essay at the time. She suggested I use a rubá’i quote to introduce and direct my topic. I have no idea of what the essay was but I clearly remember the quatrain was “Who is the Potter pray? And who the Pot”. My mother’s love of these poems was impressed upon me by how eagerly she discussed her particular favourites. She mentioned wanting, one day, to create her own illustrations and order to the text. I beat her to it. I have also learned, though not until I was already well into my first year of this project, that my maternal grandmother had been given a copy of these poems by my Grandfather when they were courting during World War II, a time when the future was particularly grim and uncertain. She passed away at the end of 2011, before I had begun painting the scrolls, which has made this project a more than a little bitter-sweet.

One of the joys of this project has been hearing people related their first encounters with the Rubáiyát. It has usually involved a family member or loved one sharing particular A58

favourite quatrain. I have been commissioned to illustrate individual poems as gifts for birthdays and weddings, always there is a sense of a social history accompanying these quatrain. In creating these images I hope to share with my younger friends, and others unacquainted with the text, a treasure of literature that was once one of the most quoted texts in the English language. These words may have been written far away and long ago but they remain true no matter who or where the reader.

To me these stanzas are bites of optimism, hope, revelry and acceptance that, though we are but small and unimportant in the greater scheme of things, life is to be Lived, and with Savour.

( about the art work) Makimono (巻物) or hand scrolls are still made and in used in Asia. In Japan they are usually used for Sutra or letters. Historically they have also depicted stories, both reli- gious and secular. These narrative scrolls were often richly illustrated. All of the Rubá’i of FitzGerald’s first edition are contained in these scrolls. The scroll format engages the hands as well as the mind of the reader, allowing a tactile engagement with the work that is out of the day-to-day. There is a sense of ceremony in interacting with a scroll, the continuous imagery expresses the passage of time and as the reader travels over a continuous distance of paper - there is no flicking backwards or forwards, as in a book. This exhibition has a simple replica of one of the works so you can get a hands of feel for how a narrative scroll reads. Please handle it with care, make sure your hands are clean first and that children are supervised at all times. The fabric mounting and finishing into the scroll format was done by a professional scroll maker in Nagoya, Japan. Scroll making is a craft that takes decades to master. I only had two years so instead I chose to focus on image making.

Woodblocks (版画) have a long tradition in both the east and west. As with scroll making, the skill and experience required to carve detailed woodblocks was well outside of the scope of my project. Rather than search for a human craftsman to translate my designs into prints I turned to Technology. The original designs were executed in ink, digitised and then burned into the blocks by a laser cutter. The ‘soot prints’ are just that - the carbonised dust of the burn process combined with the lingering sap of the cherry wood planks. The techniques used on the blocks are all traditional hand printing methods. To inform my work I have drawn on the techniques and aesthetics of European manually tinted etchings, Japanese Shin-hanga and Chinese block printing. The uniting theme of this series is the “Kuza Nama” (Book of Pots) of the Rubáiyát. This is the only section of FitzGerald’s text that conversational narrative. It also contains the first quatrain I encountered. I wanted to emphasis the power of these quatrain by revisiting them in a different media from the scrolls. The final poem is not a part of the Kuza Nama, I included it for aesthetic balance, closure and the bitter-sweetness of the words. A59

Appendices F - Image Copyright Permissions

F.1 Third Party Copyright Permission Request template

[Copyright owner’s details]

[date] Tallulah Cunningham 49 Roe Street Mayfield NSW 2304 Australia

Good Afternoon [Copyright owner’s name]

My name is Tallulah Cunningham. I am currently completing an exegesis for my PhD in Illustration at the University of Newcastle, NSW, Australia. Theses and exegesis published at the University of Newcastle must made digitally avail- able on the Internet for public access via the Australian Digital Theses (ADT) database which is the national repository of theses in Australia. For more information on the ADT database see http://adt.caul.edu.au/. I would like to include a low resolution reproduction the following copyright material in my chapter discussing existing illustrations to the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. My inten- tion is to give my assessors visual access to the works I discuss in the text for comparison purposes. I would like to have permission to reproduce, for the above purpose only, the following works for which I believe you hold the copyright: [description of source]

I would like to request from you a limited, non-exclusive licence, for an indefinite period to include these materials for which you hold the copyright, in the electronic copy of my thesis to be made available on the ADT database and the University of Newcastle repos- itory. Your works will be fully and correctly referenced and no profit will be made from this work. Please sign below if you agree and return to me a copy. If you do not agree, or do not hold the copyright in the above works could you please notify me of this in writing.

I ______agree to grant you a non-exclusive licence for an indefinite period to include the above materials for which I am the copyright owner, into your elec- tronic thesis for inclusion in the ADT database and the University of Newcastle reposito- ry. Date:

Your response is greatly appreciated, Tallulah Cunningham

This permission has been adapted from the Queensland University of Technology ADT Copyright Owner Request Form, Division of Technology, Information and Learning Sup- port http://www.tils.qut.edu.au/copyrightguide/files/ADT_copyright_owner_request A60

F.2 Copyright Permissions

Permission for Vedder’s illustration Figure 1.1 Smithsonian American Art Museum Wed 12/03/2014

Hi Tallulah,

Yes, you may use the images that we have posted on our website of our Vedder works for your PhD thesis.

Riche Sorensen Rights & Reproductions Coordinator Smithsonian American Art Museum ______

Permission for Dulac and Pogany’s illustrations Figure 1.3 & 1.5 Dover Publications Thu 31/07/2014

Dear Tallulah, Dover has no objection to you using the images/scans as you mention below from both Willy Pogany Rediscovered and An Edmund Dulac Treasury both edited by J. Menges for your literature review. Please give appropriate credit to the Dover editions in any standard form.

Thanks, Joann Schwendemann ______

Permission for James’s illustrations Figure 1.2 Sandra Mason and Bill Martin Mon 17/11/2014

Hello Tallulah We are glad to hear that your PhD is progressing well and nearing completion. On the question of copyright, we did not find copyright holders for many of the illustrations we used in our Art of OK book, including for James, Balfour and Sullivan - the latter was an- yhow out of copyright. So what we did, following the example of earlier authors, was to put a general disclaimer in our Preface, saying we had tried to find copyright holders with- out success. You can copy our form of words if you want. And by all means use copies of illustrations from the book, with due attribution. We looking forward to seeing a final copy of your work (including the write up ?) when it is all completed. It would be lovely if you can get a showing of your Rubaiyat over here. We might be able to give advice if you want to bring it to Cambridge.

Good luck with your further work.

All good wishes S&B A61

Permission for Badrossama’s illustration Figure 1.13 Reza Badrossama Sun 16/03/2014

I am Reza Badrossama agree to grant you a non-exclusive license for an indefinite period to include the above materials for which I am the copyright owner, into your electronic thesis for inclusion in the ADT database and the University of Newcastle repository. Date: 2014/03/15 ______

Permission for Nelson’s illustration Figure 1.14 Carl Nelson Tue 24/06/2014

Hi Tallulah,

Assuming the image is only being used for scholarly and not commercial purposes, I’d be absolutely fine with you using it your exegesis. Consider yourself having my permission. I’d be curious to read your exegesis when it’s finished, if that’s possible.

Thank your for asking permission - I appreciate it. All the best, -Carl ______

Permission for Kawase Hasui’s illustration Figure 2.4 Hotei Publishing

Mieke de Vries Robbé Thu 04/07/2013 20:11

Dear Ms Cunningham,

Permission is hereby granted on the conditions set out in your e-mail.

Kind regards,

Mieke de Vries Robbé Legal Counsel

BRILL | Plantijnstraat 2 | 2321 JC Leiden | The Netherlands BRILL | P.O. Box 9000 | 2300 PA Leiden | The Netherlands A62

Permission for Jed Henry’s Illustration Figure 2.5 Jed Henry Sun 17/03/2013

Hello, tallulah!

Thank you for asking permission. Please feel free to use our images. You can consider this our “yes”. :)

Good luck!

Jed ______

Permission for John Woolseley’s Illustration Figure 2.1 Roslyn Oxley9 Gallery Thu 11/09/2014

Dear Tallulah,

Thank you for your email. Roslyn Oxley is pleased to approve copyright. Please ensure the image is credited as follows:

John Wolseley Cloud Forest and Hoopoe, 2003 Watercolour and carbonised wood on paper 15.6 x 76.5cm Courtesy of the artist and Roslyn Oxley9 Gallery, Sydney.

Best wishes, Ruby Brown. ______

Permission for Cressida Campbell’s Illustration Figure 2.2 Cressida Campbell Tue 09/09/2014

Dear Tallulah,

Rex Irwin forwarded me your request regarding reproducing my images. I’m so pleased you are interested in my work and yes that is fine to reproduce the images.

It is important that they are low resolution as you said they would be and obviously that the pictures are credited with my name and the title, date and medium .

I hope your work goes really well .

Best regards

Cressida Campbell A63

Permission for floor plan of Maitland Regional Art Gallery Figure 5.2 Maitland Regional Art Gallery Tue 04/11/2014 18:37

HI Tallulah,

We would be more than happy for you to use the text below as you suggest re cop- yright.

‘MRAG gives Tallulah Cunningham permission to use their gallery layout image in her exegesis, and are aware that this document will be made available through the University of Newcastle’s online Thesis repository.’

All the best Tallulah, you must be getting close to the end? Wow, congratulations!!

Cheers Kim

Kim Blunt Gallery Curator Maitland Regional Art Gallery A64

Permission for Ouseley Collection manuscript Figure 2.3 A65

Permission for Tugrah’i stone Figure 3.4.4.3A A66 A67 Appendix G - Glossary

Apologue : A moral fable

Biota: The living elements of a habitat or region. This word is inclusive of all organisms in an area from bacteria and fungus to higher plants and animals.

Brayer: A hand roller used to apply ink in printmaking

Baren: A disc-shaped tool used assist in transferring ink from woodblock to paper using hand applied pressure.

Chirigami: A lower quality mulberry paper which includes chips of the dark outer bark

Emaki （絵巻物) - Picture or narrative hand scroll

Kakemono (掛け物) - A scroll intended to be displayed as a wall hanging.

Kabuki - A form of Japanese theatre with exaggerated costumes, poses and a popular theme for Edo period woodblock prints.

Kōzo : Japanese paper made from mulberry fibre.

Eclogue - a pastoral dialogue or brief poem

Epicurean - In modern terms this usually infers hedonism and atheism. The concept of the epicure originate in Greece and refers to the philosophy[called for] living without excess in both emotion and life style. (Virgil’s Aeneid 2007)

Gampi - A high quality Japanese paper made from the bark of Wikstroemia sikokiana.

Gauffrage - also known as ‘blind printing’ , in Japanese ‘Kara-zuri’ (Bull n.d.b) involves printing with an un-inked block to emboss the paper creating a subtle textural design.

Haiku: A three line Japanese poem with the syllable limit of five seven five. These focus on nature and contain seasonally indicative words.

Hatim Tai - A Persian figure of legend fabled for his hospitality (Decker 1997).

Makimono - A scroll intended to be viewed as unrolled (by hand). A68 NHIRLC - The Natural History Illustration Research Laboratory Collection is a collection of plant and animal specimen contained in the Design building of the University of Newcastle. These specimen are used by students and staff as references to inform their work.

Parchment: Processed sheets of animal dermis. Parchment was not replaced by paper in Europe until the late middle ages. Even then it was preferred for official and high quality hand written documents. Vellum is a parchment specifically made from unborn calf skin. This is higher grade and finer surfaced than other types of cow skin.(Ryder 1960)

Rustum: A Persian figure of legend equivalent to the Greek Hercules (Decker 2007)

Tamám shúd: This phrase has been translated as “It is done” or ‘The End’. This text is found at the end of FitzGerald’s Rubáiyát.

Tradigital: A methodology that involves applying traditional materials and techniques to a digitally produced image to produce a unique creative object (Gollifer 2000).