CACSA Monograph | Louise Haselton: Errand Workshop by ACE Open

L O U I S E

H A S E L T O N

errand workshop

contemporary art centre of south australia

ERRAND WORKSHOP: LOUISE HASELTON PUBLISHED BY THE CONTEMPORARY ART CENTRE OF SOUTH AUSTRALIA INC. 14 PORTER STREET PARKSIDE SA 5063 T +61 (08) 82722682 F +61 (08) 83734286 W www.cacsa.org.au E director@cacsa.org.au THE NATIONAL LIBRARY OF AUSTRALIA CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION ERRAND WORKSHOP: LOUISE HASELTON CONTEMPORARY ART CENTRE OF SOUTH AUSTRALIA INC.

ISBN 978-1-875751-38-9 Â© 2011 THE CONTEMPORARY ART CENTRE OF SOUTH AUSTRALIA and the writers. no material, whether written or photographic may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher

L O U I S E

H A S E L T O N

errand workshop

CONTEMPORARY ART CENTRE OF SOUTH AUSTRALIA

CONTENTS 7

foreword, alan cruickshank

introduction, monte masi

13 extracting response: michael newall in conversation with louise haselton 25

list of works

27 works 45 biography 48 acknowledgements

FOREWORD The Contemporary Art Centre of South Australia (CACSA) is one of Australia’s leading contemporary art spaces and publishers, having an historical role presenting an annual program of commissioned gallery and offsite exhibitions and projects, public symposia and artists’ talks, the Australia and Southeast Asian distributed CONTEMPORARY VISUAL

ART+CULTURE Broadsheet magazine, artists’ monographs and anthologies. These initiatives have established in recent years a significant national and international regional profile for the organisation, which in 2012 will be celebrating its 70th anniversary (the Contemporary Art Society of SA being established in 1942, and becoming the Contemporary Art Centre of South Australia in 1986). This publication accompanies the 2011 exhibition

Errand Workshop by Louise Haselton at the CACSA, both enterprises further exemplifying our ongoing commitment to the development of professional opportunties for South Australian artists, and the presentation and promotion of contemporary visual art practice, critical analysis and writing, both nationally and internationally. I would like to thank CACSA Curator Monte Masi for his introduction and work on this project in consultation with the artist, and the essay/discussion by long time CACSA associate and now UK-based Michael Newall. Alan Cruickshank Executive Director Contemporary Art Centre of South Australia

INTRODUCTION

Louise Haselton’s predominantly sculptural practice brings together unexpected and unusual combinations of everyday and found objects, exploring the connections between seemingly disparate material languages. Errand Workshop represents a significant exhibition by this influential South Australian artist and educator, exhibiting a new body of work specifically developed for the Contemporary Art Centre of South Australia’s gallery for the 2011 SALA Festival. Haselton is as an artist with a deep respect for the materials and objects she engages with across her practice: typically wood, wax, bronze, fabric, aluminium and mirror, along with found objects from both natural and ‘made’ worlds. There’s a witty reverence in Errand Workshop that can be characterised as the direct result of a process of attentive curiosity. The artist’s practice responds to the innate qualities and even particular personalities of her chosen materials. Indeed, Louise Haselton’s current working method is distinguished by an instinctual mindfulness rather than anything more systematic or prosaic. The artist also pays close attention to the history of the various elements and objects that make up her works: what their ‘lives’ were prior to being co-opted into artworks. Framed in this light, Haselton’s recent practice firms as a highly compelling exploration of the existing qualities of forms: an enlivening of the ‘already-there’. In this scenario the artist becomes a convenor in a discussion between a range of

objects and materials—making introductions and encouraging relationships—and explores the communicative possibilities of sculpture to bridge connections between material languages. In Errand Workshop, the works that comprise Veto Group

I and II are the best examples of this aspect of Haselton’s practice, combining the domestic forms of coloured drinking straws and wine corks with more exotic examples: shells, sea sponges and antique brass. Errand Workshop also has a museum-like quality to its presentation: objects spaced evenly and arranged carefully on long tables and shelves. Distinct from the contents of a museum though (and not exactly the same as the antique) is the important classification of the curio, and it is this word that feels most apt when discussing Haselton’s practice. The curio is an antique in its own way, of course, but one whose value might not be so easily ascribed and compared: an anomaly, whose full worth may only reveal itself over time. Like the curio, Haselton’s art has the capacity to engender surprise and intrigue by being unusual. Similarly, the artist notes of her practice:

The way in which the materials, forms and surfaces connect with, and enliven each other is an important determinant in the work. Each element of the work is seen in close proximity to the next, building a series of interconnections between the elements. The selected materials and their combinations move between simplicity/poverty and glamour/exuberance.1 Connected with this focus on the particular qualities of objects is Haselton’s increasing interest in animism: the belief that inanimate objects have the capacity to generate a force or energy. Haselton attributes the beginnings of this attraction to a 2005 residency at Sanskriti Kendra in India and has explored this interest on subsequent visits to that country.

In Errand Workshop, several titles suggest recognisable roles or responsibilities (Scrutineers, Invigilators, Faithful

Retainers) and as such the idea of ‘living objects’—items that possess their own unique power—seems eminently plausible. Still others are anthropomorphised through the artist’s allusory use of language. We can imagine her work The Good

Millionaire—a collection of woollen spools atop a plinth made of used styrofoam and mirrored perspex—as a curly-haired magnate in gold suit pants. This canny use of humour and wordplay is another defining feature of Haselton’s practice, and stretches back to the beginning of her career. In her 2003 exhibition Small Crowd at the Experimental Art Foundation Adelaide, a number of “palindromic works” featured: small sculptures that “played an obdurate materiality off against the bubble-like abstraction of word and concept”.2 The combinations used in this work —such as “leper repel”, “moor room”, “devil lived”, “sleep peels”—were displayed most often Rorschach-style, and this mirroring was formally reflected in other objects exhibited in the gallery—a skipping rope with handles squeezed into the shape of a hand and cast in bronze, and a five pointed star made from human fingers (again cast in bronze), among others. Haselton’s practice is witty—it raises smirks and smiles and sometimes even laughter—but it also has its “wits about it”: that is to say, the artist exhibits a probing intelligence through both her use of language and her banter with materials. This combination of wits and wit reveals another key element running through almost the entirety of Haselton’s pratice—a continued belief in the potential for transformation, and an affirmation for the capacity for deviation from the norm. To present something with humour, or engage with witticisms and wordplay, is almost always to participate in an exercise

in divergent thinking. A punchline in a good joke has impact precisely because it reveals what we were not expecting—the ‘not-known’—and drops us, suddenly, off the edge of the cliff into fresh possibility. As such even the most casual and innocuous quip carries with it a latent radical potential—for new knowledge and new forms. In Haselton’s work, similar generative possibilities are present, akin to that of a spark: a fleeting moment of inspiration caught, wrestled with, and displayed in three dimensions. This calls to mind Haselton’s studio process (waiting for objects to “spark something off”) but it also remains present in the gallery exhibition of the works: a material language predicated on weight, balance and form combined with a seemingly lighthearted wit and affection. With a wink and a knowing smile, Haselton’s objects encourage us to traverse the boundaries of the understood and the expected, pointing us towards the continued possibilities for new modes of creative synthesis to generate unconventional thinking and genuine transformation. Monte Masi Curator, Contemporary Art Centre of SA, 2011 Notes 1 Artist’s statement, CACSA Contemporary 2010: The New New (catalogue), Adelaide: Contemporary Art centre of SA, 2010: 22 2

Ken Bolton, ‘Louise Haselton: Of Material Importance’, Broadsheet 32.3, 2003: 28-29

Extracting response: Michael Newall in CONVERSATION WITH Louise Haselton The first works that really got me interested in contemporary sculpture almost fifteen years ago were by the loose-knit group of Adelaide artists of which Louise Haselton seemed to me a crucial member, and that also includes Michelle Nikou and Katie Moore. They are diverse, very individual artists, but their work of that time shared certain qualities too. One of these qualities was a sense of intimacy. The objects they made were often small, often using unexpected media or forms, with the process of making remaining legible in the object. Another was a quality I call “openness”, for lack of an existing term. It’s the sense that what an artwork can be about is open: that an artwork be about anything. It is this that made the biggest impression on me, and it’s something that has become central to my conception of contemporary art. This openness allows that art can find meaning by eliciting any kind of response: sensations and perceptions, feelings and emotions, ideas and attitudes. It could incorporate irony, theory, politics, jokes—as I say, anything. Well, in principle: in practice this “anything” is shaped freely by the multiple and multifarious interests and values that we (both the artist, and hopefully the audience) can find in things. Of course, it took a while to get all this out of what often seemed at first modest objects. One had to spend time with them and let them go to work on you, allowing readings, associations and flights of

fancy to develop until the resulting complex of interconnected sensations, perceptions and thoughts took on something of the shape the artists themselves meant for them. Some of the remarks Haselton makes below sit suggestively, and a bit uneasily with this conception of her work. She does not speak of “meaning” things so much. Instead she says, “I do feel directed by the materials and objects that I gather and spend time with; they all have their own life and energy that I draw from.” But wherever these ideas come from, it seems to me they have the kind of openness I have mentioned and it seems to me that the conversation below gives a sense of this.

To me Haselton’s work also stands apart from the

works of the other artists I’ve mentioned in a number of ways. She did not start quite so often with the ready-to-hand objects and forms that others did, and her particular patterns of thought shaped them in very distinctive ways. The kind of openness I’ve spoken of depends on a substantial overlap existing between the interests of the artists, and the interests and ideas the audience is willing to entertain. Haselton also seems to cast around for things that are marginal to, or outside what we could call that “natural”, pre-existing space of shared experience, requiring us to extend the space of our own experience, actively generating that space of overlap ourselves. I feel too that her objects have a prickly quality, chiding me when I fail to live up to this high standard. The work from the time I first came to know her practice treated words in this way, trying, it seemed to me, to get us to see them as another kind of ready-to-hand object, that also had shape, physicality, uses, associations and so on.

Untitled (maquette for weather vane) from 2001, featuring the palindromic legend “leper repel”, is an example I haven’t been able to get out of my head.) The work in Errand

Workshop is similar in a sense, for it seems to challenge us to incorporate strange forms, objects and processes into our sculptural vocabulary. Techniques and media of non-Western

and outsider art find places here alongside overlooked and ignored objects: artefacts of marine and plant life, drinking straws, riotous polychromy, objects from the Naga culture of India. With these objects come ways of thinking that stretch recent ideas of what art is: could it be therapeutic, obsessivecompulsive, religious, panpsychic?

This discussion was conducted with Haselton

while she was in the process of developing the exhibition

Errand Workshop. It tries to give the reader enough information to engage with this body of work in a productive way. The questions attempt to connect the many strange elements in the exhibition with more familiar themes in sculpture (formalism, the body, the formless), and give the viewer some traction in their exploration of the strangest, most fascinating reaches of Haselton’s recent practice (such as animism and outsider art). The works discussed in the interview were not then titled; titles and some other clarifying information has been added in square brackets. MICHAEL NEWALL: There are a number of fascinating remarks you make in your statement about your work for

CACSA Contemporary 2010: The New New (2010), and I’m interested to start with one of these. You say that you are concerned with “the recent history of sculpture—in casting, spatial arrangement, weight, balance—to continue a discussion about how the sculptural object can be of relevance in the twenty-first century”. Spatial arrangement, weight, balance—to me these suggest work by sculptors such as Anthony Caro and David Smith. That makes me think of some of the works you’re planning to put in this exhibition, incorporating candlesticks, a sawfish bill and other things [included in the sculptural group Veto group I], which have the quality of pared-back diagrams of movement or growth. You’re an artist who I think of as at least a couple of generations after the last of the formalists, but it sounds

like you’re not rejecting out of hand these formal qualities. Could you say a little about the place of these qualities in your work? LOUSIE HASELTON: It’s interesting that you ask about balance and movement, I would have referred to balance and stillness! I’m interested to see how still a work can be, which is daft in a way, as the stuff I’m working with is totally inert, the more inert the better really. But maybe the more still a work is, the more movement is close by? With the smaller works I’ve been making for this show I’m aiming for a balance between a sense of being grounded and a sense of energetic release. You mention Anthony Caro and David Smith, but it’s artists from earlier in the twentieth-century who interest me, people such as Alexander Calder, Constantin Brancusi, Isamu Noguchi, Naum Gabo and Italian artist Fausto Melotti. These artists may be quite individual but they all seem to me to have a balance and poise built into their work. I respond to the precision, the physical tension in their arrangements, brought about by management of material, scale, weight and space. (And actually I think your reference to the diagram is relevant here, there is a schematic minimalism in much of these artists’ works which could open out to refer to other worlds. A kind of simplicity that refers to a greater density.) MICHAEL NEWALL: One work in progress that you’ve showed me is a painted aluminium cast of polystyrene packaging [Greek Chorus]. It’s topped with a kitsch Chinese “contemplation rock”, and its lower part is wrapped in coloured wool. It’s such an unlikely meeting of objects—could you say a little about their individual attractions, and how they came together?

LOUISE HASELTON: This work is an outcome of a process of hanging out in the studio with the materials that I gather and seeing what happens with them over an extended period of time. I’ve been interested in rock as a material and was playing around with this contemplation rock (or “scholar’s rock” as they’re also called) to see how it could be used —working with natural materials that have a compelling form can be difficult—how can I corral that thing into my work? The dramatic form of this rock attracted me to start with, knowing that it is a revered object, one of meditation that directed me. In retrospect I think that the top and bottom elements of this piece—the rock and the wool—are both aids to meditation. The repetition involved in making the woollen base is a meditative process. It was just a hunch when I started to place these two elements with each other. The central piece of cast aluminium packaging is there for pragmatic reasons: there needs to be a stable element to combine the other components. I like dealing with the pragmatic aspects of a work; it is liberating. I was interested to see if I could use a vulnerable material for the base of the piece and I like the fact that a single strand of wool is quite weak but layers of it have strength. MICHAEL NEWALL: You mentioned in an earlier email that in making this work you had in mind the outsider artist Judith Scott. She obsessively bound objects in wool in much the way you’ve wrapped the aluminium support [in Greek

Chorus; The pain catchers also features similar wrapping]. I’m interested to know how Scott came to your attention, and what you’ve found of interest in her work. LOUISE HASELTON: I first saw her works some years ago when looking at works of “fibre artists”. The wrapped objects Scott made are intense. She lived most of her life in an institution and made a large number of irregular shaped

objects bound in wool and rags. I find the objects strange and raw in a way that Franz West’s early work can be. Scott’s work is often considered in the category of hospitalised outsider artists; she had Down Syndrome and it seems she was deeply invested in the wrapping of these very physical objects. Her work interests me for a range of reasons—it forces big questions about art, process and intention. As my day job is a teacher of art, Scott’s situation and output forces me to think about what can be taught and learnt, what’s innate and what’s acquired, and art’s curative capacity. Apart from the philosophical issues that arise from Scott’s work and outsider artists in general, for me the objects Scott made are in themselves magnificent, they have the air of by-products of activity, rather than as ends in themselves; almost a measure of something. The degree to which Scott envisaged an end-point, an end-product, cannot be known. It would be fascinating to know how, or if, Scott decided when a piece was completed. The objects seem to me to want to be held and touched, but they’re kind of ugly and kind of not ugly too; their existence is a challenge. There is a duality in the use of the wool and rags which fascinates me. Wool especially is a material that can warm and comfort, is soft and tactile, but in this instance the fibre is used to restrain the object. There’s an implicit threat here. If you sat still for a while Scott might get to work and mummify you. MICHAEL NEWALL: You also described the way the densely warped wool “suffocates” the base of this sculpture. Again, maybe this is meant figuratively, but I can’t help look at other works you’re developing for this exhibition and finding that I’m sometimes empathising with implied bodily movements. The cast aluminium rings you have made from eucalypt branches [in The new world] seem to reach around in a smooth movement like arms, the corals [of Veto group II] seem to expand like lungs—and I find my own body wanting

to mirror these actions. Are you encouraging these kinds of responses? LOUISE HASLETON: When responding to a work I, initially at least, don’t separate or judge what is a physical, bodily response and an emotional or intellectual response. A studio visitor, looking at a few of the pieces I’m working on, commented that she thought of feet, maybe a sense of things being secured to the ground, based, but with the potential for ambulation. Maybe when looking at stuff—three-dimensional material—there’s an automatic response which is about one’s own physicality, a kind of summing up of what’s in front of you, a body meeting another body. I’m pleased if the work prompts you to want to physically mirror its properties, a kind of sympathetic magic maybe, that can help you control the thing in front of you and enliven your own body. Sculpture, after all, is about extracting response from dumb materials; they’re dead, but with potential. MICHAEL NEWALL: In your The New New statement, you say things that hint at some of this potential. For instance, you write, “my work is a process of gathering prosaic materials and then sitting in the studio with them as they move around, group themselves, rearrange and settle into comfortable situations”. The idea of materials apparently grouping and rearranging themselves sounds at first like a figure of speech, but you also mention that you have an interest in animism, which in 2009 prompted you to visit Nagaland in India. That makes me think this is a phenomenon that you take seriously and have reflected upon at length. I’m curious to know your views on it and what you feel you learnt about it in Nagaland.

LOUISE HASELTON: The idea of materials grouping and arranging themselves is a figure of speech. But I do feel directed by the materials and objects that I gather and spend time with; they all have their own life and energy that I draw from. Maybe it’s a way of giving over some of the responsibility of the art-making process. It’s quite a solitary process. I don’t discuss the works much while they’re being made—the materials themselves become active in the process. Ideas of animism are at play here as well I guess. You ask what I learnt about animism when visiting Nagaland recently—one thing that struck me (and this is something that’s occurred to me in various situations when I’ve visited India) is that there is somehow a lack of separation of things. It makes me feel that I am preoccupied with separating or categorising my experience of the world and often in India things are thrown together. Maybe what I’m seeing is another way of categorising, different to schemas I would see in my own world. Although in Nagaland and elsewhere in India there is an ongoing belief in animism, this often coincides with a belief in Hindu or Christian gods—a lack of separation that may be problematic elsewhere. An imbuing of natural objects, often trees and rocks, with spirit or force is one that seemed very palpable and kind of reassuring—I love the idea that rocks can animate and breed—a rock orgy [compare here

Scrutineers—MN]. What a sight! Some communities believe rocks to be vehicles of fertility. When I was in Nagaland it was foggy, the days were short and the sky was very close to the ground. It seemed right that the natural world was living its own life. There was a lack of separation between armature and ornament in many devotional objects that attracted me. Rocks had been, and were continuing to be, covered in silver leaf, paper, thread; trees were wrapped totally in woollen or cotton thread. The underlying object was often not visible at all, but wholly smothered by the covering material. It did seem that the original tree or rock was revered but needed to

be controlled as well. It was a total unification of elements, but also an annihilation of the underlying object. It occurs to me now that there may be a similarity with Scott’s process of wrapping. MICHAEL NEWALL: One sculpture [in Veto Group I] which I’ve mentioned includes a sawfish’s saw-like bill, which so far as I’m aware is completely unprecedented in the history of art. How did you come to incorporate the bill? Is there something particular about sea creatures that interests you? LOUISE HASELTON: I have been using various shells in my work for the past few years, mainly large spider and helmet shells, and along the way I’ve gathered a range of odd marine creatures that look interesting, not really knowing if or how they’d be of use. With this series of small scale arrangements I’m continuing to use materials that appear simultaneously dead and alive. Maybe your inclination to mirror aspects of the work derives in part from the fact that some materials I use did indeed have life at an earlier stage, a desire to resuscitate the objects as much as animate yourself. The primitive appearance of this bill draws me in—it has an appearance based on its original function and context. That is, it looks as it does because it is designed to act as a tool and weapon, just as shells are formed because they are dwellings that have carried and protected their inhabiting organism. Their original context no longer operates; they’re outmoded things ready for re-use in the wider world. They are cast off and can be reappraised in their own right.

Using things that have a pre-determined function

which leads to a particular form, that I didn’t have a say in, interests me. I could never have conceived of or constructed things that look like these objects. The form and surface of these things that have lived underwater is telling—they’ve

lived a life, are strong but also vulnerable. I think their strong presence comes, partly, from the knowledge that they were once alive and mobile, but are now stuck and sedentary, maybe there’s a cruelty in that. MICHAEL NEWALL: Reappraising the cast-off and overlooked seems a kind of strategy in your work. Is that right? It seems at the root of many of the pleasurable surprises and uneasy moments your work delivers. LOUISE HASELTON: Re-presenting the overlooked is important in my work. I’m interested to see if the simple act of presenting something cast-off can be restorative. It’s very satisfying to scrounge for unloved materials and objects and then resuscitate them. That can be simply through giving them new company, by combining a rock with some packaging, or some shells with chain; to point to another life or function that something could hold. The potential of things can lie latent and be animated through a simple act. Michael Newall, 2011

Michael Newall is Lecturer in History & Philosophy of Art at the University of Kent, Canterbury, UK. He is the author of What is a Picture? (Palgrave Macmillan, 2011) and many articles on art and aesthetics. From 2001 to 2004 he was Program Co-ordinator at the Contemporary Art Centre of South Australia.

LIST OF WORKS

From Veto Group I, 2011 Bronze, brass, corks, sea sponge, mirrored perspex, copper, sawfish snout

Gallery installation view from Veto Group I, 2011 and wall, Sunshine Vendor, 2011 Embroidered fabric, paint

The Good Millionaire, 2011 Wool, gaffer tape, polystyrene, mirrored perspex

Installation detail, Invigilators, 2011 Aluminium, steel chain

The new world, 2011 Aluminium, paint

Scrutineers, 2011 Copper, brass, rocks, mirrored discs

Greek chorus, 2011 Aluminium, paint, wool, rock

Faithful retainers, 2011 Powder coated steel, clam shells

Detail, The Pain Catchers, 2011 Stainless steel, wool, branches

From Veto Group II, 2011 Various materials including coral, airdried clay, corks, wooden mortars, straws, polystyrene, mirrored perspex, spider shells

Gallery installation view, Veto Group II, 2011 Various materials including coral, airdried clay, corks, wooden mortars, straws, polystyrene, mirrored perspex, spider shells

BIOGRAPHY Louise Haselton Education 2002 Master of Arts by Research, Fine Art (Sculpture) RMIT, Melbourne 1990 Bachelor of Visual Arts (Sculpture), University of South Australia, Adelaide 1983 Bachelor of Education, SA College Advanced Education, Adelaide Solo Exhibitions 2011 Errand Workshop, Contemporary Art Centre, Adelaide 2005 Downtown Art Space, Adelaide 2003 small crowd, Experimental Art Foundation, Adelaide 2002 small crowd, graduating MFA exhibition, RMIT, Melbourne 2001 Greenaway Art Gallery, Adelaide Forest, The Edge, RMIT, Melbourne 2000 Act Natural, West Space, Melbourne 1997 One Swallow, Stripp Gallery, Melbourne 1996 Greenaway Art Gallery, Adelaide 1993 rougher than usual handling, (RE) gallery, Adelaide Five Different Homes, Contemporary Art Centre of SA, Adelaide Greenaway Art Gallery, Adelaide Selected Group Exhibitions 2011 South Australian Living Artists Festival, Art Gallery of South Australia, Adelaide 2010 CACSA CONTEMPORARY 2010: The New New, Contemporary Art Centre of SA, Adelaide Heartlines, SASA Gallery public art project, Adelaide 2009 3D x 4, Greenaway Art Gallery, Adelaide Chance Encounters, Salamanca Art Centre, Hobart; SASA Gallery, Adelaide 2008 Thoughts on paper, Greenaway Art Gallery, Adelaide Flipside, The Substation Art Centre, Singapore Mentor Mentored4, Contemporary Art Centre of SA, Adelaide 2007 Years Without Magic, SASA Gallery University of SA, Adelaide 2006 The Colour of Saffron, SASA Gallery University of SA, Adelaide Things Will be Great, MOP Projects, Sydney 2005 Art Year Zero, SA School of Art Gallery, Adelaide 2002 text&, Project Space, RMIT, Melbourne

2001 2000 1998 1996 1995 1994 1993 1992 1991 1990 1988

Christmas Box Project, City Square, Melbourne Colloquium, Linden Gallery, Melbourne A Compost History of the St Kilda Conservatory, Melbourne Shunt, Platform, Melbourne Gift, Zone Gallery, Adelaide Out of Adelaide, Experimental Art Foundation, Adelaide Frank Thing, Sym Choon Gallery, Adelaide Don’t Stop, Linden Gallery, Melbourne Various Small Fires, Experimental Art Foundation, Adelaide York Street Studio Exhibition, York Street Gallery, Adelaide dis(t)ance, University of SA Art Museum, Adelaide A Twist in the Tightrope, University of SA Gallery Curious to Relate, Bullring, The Jam Factory, Adelaide

Selected Bibliography: 2011 Chris Reid, ‘SA Art: present tense’, RealTime 101: 52 Stephanie Radok, ’So What Else is New? The NEW NEW, Contemporary Art Centre of SA’, Art Monthly Australia 238, April 2010 Lisa Harms, ‘CACSA Contemporary 2010: The New New’, Artlink Vol. 30 No. 4 2009 Ken Bolton, Art Writing: Art in Adelaide in the 1990s and 2000s, Adelaide: Contemporary Art Centre of SA Mary Knights and Maria Kunda, ‘Chance Encounters’ (catalogue essay), Salamanca Art Centre, Hobart 2008 Peter McKay, ‘Flipside’ (catalogue essay), Contemporary Art Centre of SA, Adelaide 2007 Stephanie Radok, ‘Bridget Currie, James Dodd, Louise Haselton, Laura Wills’, Artlink Vol. 27 No. 3 Lisa Kelly & Peter McKay, ‘Years Without Magic’ (catalogue essay), SASA Gallery University of SA, Adelaide 2005 Jena Woodburn, ‘Art Year Zero’, Broadsheet 34.1 2003 Ken Bolton, ‘Of Material Importance’, Broadsheet 32.3 John Barbour, ‘Bridget Currie & Louise Haselton’, Broadsheet 32.3 2001 Linda Marie Walker, ‘Stepping into the fold’, RealTime 44 1998 Sarah Thomas, ‘Wrestling with words’, Broadsheet 26.1 Jyanni Steffensen, ‘Triple Treats’, RealTime 23 1996 Linda Marie Walker, ‘The choreography of art practice, RealTime 16 1993 Ken Bolton, ‘Artist run alternatives’, Art and Australia Vol. 13 No. 2 Steffensen, Jyanni, ‘Different Dreaming’, Artlink Vol. 14 No. 1 John Neylon, ‘Five Different Homes, Adelaide Review, December David O’Halloran, ‘Exploring Domestic Space, The Advertiser, 7 December Linda Marie Walker, ‘Various Small Fires’ (catalogue essay), Experimental Art Foundation, Adelaide

Collections: Art Gallery of South Australia, Adelaide Selected Awards 2011 ArtsSA Project grant 2006 ArtsSA Project grant 2005 Helpmann Academy Cultural Exchange Residency 2000 Pat Corrigan Artist Grant 1997 Pat Corrigan Artist Grant 1996 SA Dept for Arts & Cultural Development Artist Grant 1993 SA Dept for Arts & Cultural Development Project Grant 1992 SA Dept for Arts & Cultural Development Artist Grant Selected Professional Experience: 2003-11 Foundation Studies Coordinator, SA School of Art, University of SA, Adelaide 2000-02 Lecturer/tutor, Arts Dept. Swinburne TAFE, Melbourne 1999 Casual Relief Teaching (art), Northern Melbourne region 1997-98 Curator, Canberra Contemporary Art Space, ACT 1994-95 Lecturer/tutor, Sculpture Dept, SA School of Art, University of SA, Adelaide 1985-86 Art/English Teacher, Mt Carmel Girls School, London 1984 Art/English Teacher, Pt Lincoln High School, South Australia Board Memberships: 2005-10 Australian Experimental Art Foundation, Adelaide 1997-98 Canberra Contemporary Art Space, ACT 1993-95 Contemporary Art Centre of South Australia, Adelaide 1994-96 Experimental Art Foundation, Adelaide

Acknowledgements: The artist gratefully acknowledges the assistance of Rod Lawrie, Peter Spooner, Bridget Currie, Nicholas Folland, Kay Lawrence, Steven Carson, Justine Haselton, Antonia Haselton, Christian Lock and Peter McKay; the Contemporary Art Centre of SA and Executive Director Alan Cruickshank and Curator, Monte Masi The artist gratefully acknowledges the assistance of the South Australian Government through Arts SA for the development and production of the work for Errand Workshop Louise Haselton is represented by Greenaway Art Gallery, Adelaide Photography: All photos by Michal Kluvanek; except pages 31 and 43 by Alan Cruickshank; cover photo by Steve Wilson

Errand Workshop Exhibition dates 22 Julyâ&#x20AC;&#x201C;28 August, 2011 Contemporary Art Centre of South Australia 14 Porter Street, Parkside SOUTH AUSTRALIA 5063

THE CONTEMPORARY ART CENTRE OF SOUTH AUSTRALIA IS A MEMBER OF CAOS (CONTEMPORARY ART ORGANISATIONS AUSTRALIA) W www.caos.org.au the contemporary art centre of south australia is assisted by the south australian government through arts sa and is assisted by the australian government through the australia council, its arts funding and advisory body THE CONTEMPORARY ART CENTRE OF SOUTH AUSTRALIA IS SUPPORTED BY THE VISUAL ARTS AND CRAFT STRATEGY, AN INITIATIVE OF THE AUSTRALIAN, STATE AND TERRITORY GOVERNMENTS