and Jnr from The Laverty Collection lots 95

NORA HEYSEN

(1911 – 2003) SELF PORTRAIT, 1971 oil on canvas 87.0 x 67.0 cm signed and dated lower left: Nora Heysen / 1971

ESTIMATE: $18,000 – 25,000

38

PROVENANCE

Estate of the artist, Sydney Thence by descent Stefan Heysen, South Australia, the artist’s brother Thence by descent Private collection, South Australia

LITERATURE

Bogle, D., ‘Nora Heysen: Out of the shadows’, The Advertiser, Adelaide, 26 March 2019, illus.

RELATED WORK

Study for Self Portrait, charcoal and oil on card, 40.5 x 31.5 cm, in the collection of the Art Gallery of New South Wales, Sydney

MARGARET OLLEY

(1923 – 2011) ORANGES (STILL LIFE), 1963 oil on canvas 60.0 x 76.0 cm signed and dated lower left: Olley 63

ESTIMATE: $25,000 – 35,000

39

PROVENANCE

Brian and Marjorie Johnstone, Brisbane Marjorie Johnstone, Brisbane, 1992 Private collection, Brisbane, a bequest from the above in 1994

(1922 – 2015) SUNDAY, THURSDAY ISLAND, 1960 oil and tempera on composition board 76.0 x 121.0 cm signed lower left: R Crooke inscribed verso: LATE AFTERNOON/ THURSDAY IS

ESTIMATE: $40,000 – 60,000

PROVENANCE

Brian and Marjorie Johnstone, Brisbane Marjorie Johnstone, Brisbane, 1992 Private collection, Brisbane, a bequest from the above in 1994

EXHIBITED

North of Capricorn, The Art of Ray Crooke, Perc Tucker Regional Gallery, Queensland, 21 November 1997 – 4 January 1998; and touring (label attached verso)

LITERATURE

Smith, S., North of Capricorn, The Art of Ray Crooke, Perc Tucker Regional Gallery, Queensland, 1997 pp. 14, 47 (illus.)

‘…Crooke’s paintings reveal a humility of attitude which does not seek the unusual but achieves it. If his paintings of Australia’s tropical North and the native people going about their simple daily tasks or sitting as monuments in the deep shadow of their huts, spell such an enchantment, it is because poetical truth is deeper than ordinary vision.’1

Drawing inspiration from a lifetime of experience living in Northern Queensland and the adjacent Melanesian islands, Ray Crooke is celebrated for his quiet but intensely evocative landscapes which emphasise the monumental simplicity and laconic grace of people shaped by their environment. Whether engrossed in daily rituals, glimpsed in the cool of shaded rooms or ensnared within webs of light and shade beneath jungle vegetation, his compositions bear a strong sense of locality, describing with unprecedented accuracy this remote region and the unique light that so distinguishes it. Yet while his finished compositions, such as the serene Sunday, Thursday Island offered here, appear as ‘snapshots’ or portraits of specific places, they are nevertheless ‘the remembrance of things past’, emerging from his mind’s eye following the disciplined distillation of observed fact previously explored through studies and sketches. Encapsulating the artist’s desire to create ‘a romantic form of expression based upon imagination and emotion’2, indeed such works give precedence to mood over action or narrative to examine, rather, the fundamental relationship between man and nature.

Fundamental to such conscious ordering of forms towards an aesthetic ideal is Crooke’s enduring preoccupation with tonal relationships, contours and silhouettes, and the dramatic juxtaposition of dark against light. Indeed, despite his richly decorative and highly developed sense of colour, one only need compare such tropical landscapes with those of his artistic predecessor, Paul Gauguin, to discern ‘the differences between an artist working through tone and one who worked through colour.’3 Underpinning the strength and authenticity of his vision, thus the image here is built up from a dark ground organised around tonal relationships to reveal a carefully constructed scene, with the two female protagonists bathed in the soft dappled sunshine that streams through the veranda from the sparkling harbour beyond. Imbuing the work with a powerful sense of mystery and curious timelessness, it is this sensation of clear defining light which gives stature to islander life and reveals Crooke’s abiding interest in the dignity of man. Betraying strong affinities with the art of Florentine Renaissance masters Giotto and Piero della Francesca in their quest to locate the eternal in the present moment – that point of intersection between time past and time to come – Crooke’s meditations accordingly invite his audience to experience the art of stillness, to appreciate the flow of time in its purest, most metaphysical sense. For, as James Gleeson astutely asserts, that ‘special kind of magic’ in Crooke’s paintings ‘only begins to work when one has discovered the stillness and the silence that lies at the heart of everything he paints... This stillness is not the mere stillness of arrested motion, but the projection of a mind preoccupied with deep and permanent things.’4

1. Langer, G., The Courier-Mail, Brisbane, 8 November 1967 2. Smith, S., North of Capricorn: The Art of Ray Crooke, Perc Tucker Regional Gallery, Townsville, 1997, p. 7 3. Gleeson, J., ‘Introduction’, Ray Crooke, Collins, Sydney, 1972, n.p. 4. ibid.

VERONICA ANGELATOS

(1923 – 1970) SLEEPING LUBRA, 1958 oil on composition board 76.5 x 102.5 cm signed and dated lower right: Molvig 58

ESTIMATE: $30,000 – 40,000

PROVENANCE

Estate of Alan Waldron, Brisbane The Johnstone Collection, Brisbane Christie’s, Brisbane, 5 June 1994, lot 14 Philip Bacon Galleries, Brisbane Private collection, Brisbane, acquired from the above

EXHIBITED

Jon , The Johnstone Gallery, Brisbane, 28 April – 15 May 1959, cat. 4 Jon Molvig: Maverick, Queensland Art Gallery, Brisbane, 14 September 2019 – 2 February 2022

LITERATURE

Churcher, B., Molvig - the lost Antipodean, Penguin Books, Melbourne, 1984, cat. 207, pp. 74, 77 (illus.) Hawker, M., Heiser, B., Helmrich, M., and Littley, S., Jon Molvig: Maverick, Queensland Art Gallery, Brisbane, 2019, pp. 16, 108 (illus.), 178

‘Because he has been so difficult to categorize, Molvig has often been overlooked by historians and curators, and there are few artists about whom such confusion has reigned. Yet, at the full stretch of his talent, he has produced images so powerful and urgent that they have that quality of all good art: they remain in the mind in all their original clarity.’1

From a working-class family in Newcastle, Molvig experienced an unsettled childhood and then served in New Guinea and the Philippines during World War II. He studied art in Sydney before travelling to Europe where he encountered the German and Norwegian expressionists whom he believed were more influential on his practice than his Australian contemporaries… In 1955, Molvig would settle in Brisbane for the better part of his adult life. At the time, the only formal courses for emerging artists involved particularly rigid and rigorous technical training, and little consideration of style. From a studio in Kangaroo Point, which was run by John Rigby (who had inherited it from Margaret Cilento), Molvig offered an alternative. At the same time as teaching a growing cohort of rapt students, Molvig developed his own distinctive style, one that Betty Churcher called ‘a lucid and accomplished expressionism.’2

An intensely complicated artist and individual, Molvig was a relentless innovator and his experimentation could be brilliantly iconoclastic. In Robert Hughes’ The Art of Australia, the young critic singled out Molvig: ‘His art exalts the vitality of the first moment of perception,’ Hughes wrote, noting that while the artist’s style was mutable, his exploration of new techniques and approaches was nonetheless strategic.3

A formidable presence on the Brisbane art scene during the late 1950s and 1960s, indeed Molvig’s work was provocative, and as inspiring to his students as it was insistent and uncompromising… Churcher divided this part of his career into two periods: tumultuous and complex pictures from the late 1950s and early 1960s – punctuated by a series of landscapes that built on his visit to Central Australia in 1958 – and his ‘Eden industrial’ pictures, inspired by Newcastle.4 Discussing Sleeping Lubra, 1958 and another closely related work from this period titled Untitled Portrait: Sleeping Aboriginal Woman and Child, 1958, Churcher notes that ‘…the allegorical quotient ensured that Molvig was able to operate on a level of meaning that went beyond the image. In both paintings an Aboriginal woman in a pink dress lies in a parched landscape under a hot sky. The anthropomorphic curves and furrows that had animated the surface of Ayer’s Rock in Centralian Landscape have hereby been given specific human form, and like the legendary women from the Aboriginal Dreaming, they seem at the very point of metamorphosis, when their bodies will be converted forever into the features of the landscape. They could also be a metaphor for the desert: the arid land that stretches out like a baited trap, set with opalescent colour to seduce the eye and lure the foolhardy or unwary to their death.’5

Significantly, Sleeping Lubra, 1958 was recently included in the major retrospective exhibition at the Queensland Art Gallery I Gallery of Modern Art, Brisbane from 2019 – 20. In the accompanying publication, Jon Molvig: Maverick, the first significant monograph on the artist since 1984, curator Michael Hawker elaborates, ‘…In works such as Sleeping Lubra, 1958, the figures are not just part of the landscape, they embody it. In Sleeping Lubra, the woman’s languid arm in the foreground has the contours of a dry creek bed while her torso and hips echo worn ridges and deep valleys. Molvig enhances this idea of embodiment in his use of colour – the ochre-like, chalky pinks, oranges, greys and charcoals immediately suggest the distinctive hues of the outback.’6

1. Betty Churcher cited in Jon Molvig: Maverick, Queensland Art Gallery I Gallery of Modern Art,

Brisbane, 2019, p. 94 2. Churcher, B., Molvig -The Lost Antipodean, Penguin Books, 1984, p. 47 3. Hughes, R., The Art of Australia, Penguin Australia, Melbourne, 1984, p.43, cited in Saines,

C., ‘Foreword’ in Jon Molvig: Maverick, op. cit. ibid., p. 9 4. Saines, ibid. 5. Churcher, 1984, op. cit., p. 73 6. Hawker, M., ‘John Molvig: Restlessness of Vision’, in John Molvig: Maverick, op. cit., p. 16

(1902 – 1959) SAND HILL BOUNDARY, c.1950s watercolour on paper on card 32.0 x 52.0 cm signed lower right: ALBERT NAMATJIRA bears inscription verso: 1 bears inscription with title on backing verso: SAND HILL BOUNDARY CB 80

ESTIMATE: $25,000 – $35,000

PROVENANCE

Frank S. & Winifred M. Wright, Melbourne, acquired c.1950s Thence by descent Winifred B. Calder, Melbourne, acquired from the above in the 1980s The Estate of W. B. Calder, Melbourne

Although an accomplished craftsman producing poker work decorated woomeras, boomerangs and wooden plaques, it was not until viewing an exhibition of watercolours by Victorian artists Rex Battarbee and John Gardner at the Hermannsburg Mission in 1934, that Albert Namatjira truly embarked upon painting as a profession. Immediately captivated by the medium, Namatjira pleaded to be taught watercolour techniques and eventually Battarbee agreed to Namatjira accompanying him on two month-long expeditions in 1936 through the Palm Valley and MacDonnell Range areas. And thus began the cultural exchange that was to become a defining feature of their long relationship; Battarbee instructing Namatjira about the Western technique of watercolour painting, and in turn, Namatjira imparting his sacred knowledge about the subjects they were to paint, namely the land of the Western Aranda people, his ‘Dreaming’ place. So impressive was Namatjira’s skill that Battarbee remarked after only a brief period, ‘I felt he had done so well that he had no more to learn from me about colour.’1 Success and recognition quickly followed and Namatjira was launched into the spotlight as a cultural ‘icon’ – internationally acclaimed and admired for his innovative, vibrantly coloured desert landscapes that encouraged ‘new ways of seeing the Centre.’

If today synonymous with our vision of the Australian outback, Namatjira’s art nevertheless experienced many vicissitudes over the course of the last century. Although his first solo exhibition in 1938 at the Fine Arts Society in Melbourne was a sell-out success, with popularity and fame continuing throughout his lifetime, praise for Namatjira’s skilful adaptation of a Western medium was inevitably accompanied by a bitter twist; his paintings ‘…were appreciated because of their aesthetic appeal, but they were at the same time a curiosity and sign that Aborigines could be civilised.’2 Ironically such perceived ‘assimilation’ would later bring his art into disrepute with Namatjira virtually ignored by the Australian art establishment during the 1960s and 70s. Fortunately, the Papunya Tula Aboriginal art ‘renaissance’ and cultural politics of reconciliation during the 80s prompted long overdue reassessment of Namatjira’s unique contribution, and more recently, he has received the recognition he so deserves with three biographies published, and three major exhibitions mounted by public galleries, including a retrospective at the National Gallery of Australia in 2002 to celebrate the centenary of his birth, Seeing the Centre: The Art of Albert Namatjira 1902 – 1959.

Not only striking in their aesthetic appeal, Namatjira’s achievements such as Sand Hill Boundary, c.1950s also resonate with important personal symbolism for the artist as statements of belonging – as coded expressions embodying the memory and sacred knowledge of traditional ancestral sites, his ‘dreamings’ or totem places. As Belinda Croft elucidates, ‘Albert’s Gift’ was more far-reaching than simply the tangible legacy of his art, ‘…more than the sum parts of watercolour paints on paper. It is an essence that resides in the strength of Namatjira’s work – his courage, his sorrow, his spirituality – in these days of ‘reconciliation’, but most of all, in the spiritual heritage of every indigenous person in Australia.’3

1. Morphy, H., Aboriginal Art, Phaidon Press, London, 1998, p. 268 2. ibid., p. 270 3. Croft, B., ‘Albert’s Gift’ in French, A., Seeing the Centre: The Art of Albert Namatjira, 1902 – 1959, National Gallery of Australia, Canberra, 2002, p. 148

VERONICA ANGELATOS

ALEXANDER ARCHIPENKO

(1887 – 1964, Ukrainian/American) THE PEARL graphite, ink and gouache on paper 41.5 x 54.0 cm signed lower right: Archipenko

ESTIMATE: $15,000 – 20,000

43

PROVENANCE

Zabriskie Gallery, New York (label attached verso) Kahlbetzer collection, Sydney, acquired from the above in 1981

ANDY WARHOL

(1928 – 1987, American) COW, 1976 colour screenprint on wallpaper 115.5 x 76.5 cm signed lower right: Andy Warhol edition: unlimited with approximately 100 signed in felt pen in 1979 published by Factory Additions, New York printed by Bill Miller’s Wallpaper Studio inc., New York

ESTIMATE: $12,000 – 18,000

44

PROVENANCE

The Blaxland Gallery, Sydney Private collection, Sydney, acquired from the above in 1991

EXHIBITED

Modern Art Pavilion, Seattle Centre, Washington, 18 November 1976 – 9 January 1977 (another example)

LITERATURE

Feldman, F., and Schellmann, J., Andy Warhol Prints: A Catalogue Raisonné 1962–1987, Ronald Feldman Fine Arts, New York, third edition, 1997, cat. 11.12A, pp. 59 (illus., another example), 266, 276

born 1974, British GANGSTA RAT, 2004 colour screenprint 49.0 x 35.0 cm (sheet) edition: 232/350 published by Pictures on Walls, London numbered and embossed with blindstamp lower right

ESTIMATE: $40,000 – 60,000

PROVENANCE

Private collection, Queensland, acquired in Brighton, U.K., c.2005

Personified rats have been an enduring motif in street artist Banksy’s oeuvre, often depicted in slapstick freeze frames and comically dressed to reflect salient contemporary issues in Britain and abroad. Understood by many to be a homage to Blek le Rat, Xavier Prou, the French pioneer of stencil art, Banksy’s rodent alter-egos exist on the fringes of society. Living invisibly in alleyways and undergrounds, much like clandestine graffiti artists, for Banksy these animals have come to symbolise freedom and resilience. Like many of his artworks, the Gangsta Rat, 2004 of this limited-edition screenprint first appeared stenciled directly onto a wall, in the London suburb of Farringdon in 2004. Shortly thereafter, with the artist-run publishing cooperative Pictures on Walls, Bansky printed Gangsta Rat in black and red in an edition of 350, with an additional 150 prints hand-signed. Circumventing commercial gallery structures, examples of these prints were sold directly to buyers through the internet and pop-up exhibitions. While Banksy created over 30 different street artworks using rats in the 1990s,1 Gangsta Rat was the first design to be screenprinted, preceding the other ‘Rat Pack’ editions such as Love Rat, Placard Rats – holding signs emblazoned with ‘Because I’m Worthless’, ‘Welcome to Hell’ and ‘Get out while you can’ and Radar Rat. With hands held aloft and a look of surprise etched into its white face, Gangsta Rat appears to have been caught playing dress-up. Wearing a side-ways New York Yankees baseball cap, an earring and chain medallion necklace, the rat sits beside a Boom Box portable stereo system, imitating the flashy style of American hip hop and rap artists of the 1980s. Tagged in dripping red spray paint above the rat are the letters iPOW, referencing Bansky’s print publisher Pictures on Walls and imitating the nonsensical marketing jargon of large corporations in the early 2000s. Banksy’s trussed-up rat derides both the opportunistic bastardisation of popular culture to sell products, and the mindless rat-race of consumer culture.

Banksy, who like a latter-day Robin Hood remains officially anonymous, became a household name around the world with a reach far beyond the Bristol underground scene from which he emerged in the early 1990s. In 2018, he memorably made headlines after one of his works appeared to self-destruct just after selling at auction in London for over a million pounds, thus playfully reinforcing the artist’s apparent disdain for the commercial structures of the art world. The elusive artist’s work, whether stenciled on a nondescript brick wall of a housing estate or screen-printed on archival paper, is instantly recognisable for its cutting social satire, whimsical popular culture references and subversive aphorisms.

1. Banksy, Wall and Piece, Century, London, 2005, pp. 86 – 87

LUCIE REEVES-SMITH

born 1972 I GIVE MYSELF TO YOU….. CONSTANT WONDER, 2017 oil on canvas 86.0 x 64.0 cm signed and dated lower left: 2017 / – del / kathryn / barton –

ESTIMATE: $40,000 – 60,000

PROVENANCE

Private collection, Sydney, a gift from the artist in 2017

Del Kathryn Barton’s sumptuously patterned portraits of women and chimeric goddesses explore intertwined representations of female vulnerability and power. Combining a three-quarter profile with a polychromatic stylised aesthetic, I Give Myself to You.…. Constant Wonder, 2017 belongs to an ongoing series within Barton’s oeuvre, ever evolving with the incorporation of new artistic devices and gestures. Her mature portraits draw inspiration from High Renaissance portraiture of the fashionable elite and are often imbued with the unsettled eroticism of modern European artists, such as Egon Schiele and Louise Bourgeois. Despite sharing the same wide watery eyes, these poised and tight-lipped protagonists are far removed from the childlike beings of Barton’s earlier works. They have aged alongside the artist, retaining otherworldly attributes which signify their belonging to the artist’s vivid phantasmagorical world.

One of Australia’s most acclaimed contemporary artists, Del Kathryn Barton’s practice is today multi-disciplinary, encompassing even an audacious and surreal full-length feature film, Blaze, released earlier this year as part of the Sydney Film Festival. Notwithstanding these varied artistic pursuits, the intricate and meditative act of drawing still underpins all of Barton’s work. Raw and instinctual, Barton’s wandering inky lines trace the spindly fingers and angular elfin features of her subjects and the outer edges of delicately modulated liquid shadows. This signature illustrative quality is contrasted within I Give Myself to You….. Constant Wonder by the varied textures of the whorls of the subject’s spray-painted hair, veil of pearly polka-dots, and the thick materiality of the imbricated orange background. The clean, white ground of Barton’s canvas becomes the figure’s pale skin, overlaid with washes of paint, tonally warm and seductively candy-coloured. This is a modern portrait of a young woman dispassionately emerging from her magical realm. While she bears no plumed hybridity or multiple limbs, this protagonist is no less an enchantress, her ethereal strangeness is hidden within her enormous eyes.

Staring blankly into the distance, the subject of this portrait does not communicate with the viewer, nor is alert to her bright surroundings. Like her sisters, she looks both inward and outward, voyaging beyond the mundane towards a cosmic realm. She is transfixed, awestruck by an unknowable plane of consciousness, her large eyes unblinking and swirling with visual delirium. She shares a steely impenetrable expression with the other figures from her world, even in larger compositions while contorted into tantric poses or voyaging on giant rodents through astral planes. Chastely presented, our subject has her hands held up enquiringly, framing her face to express some unknown significance. These ‘fluttering hands’ appear frequently in Barton’s works, inferring a certain spiritual or sacred atmosphere, a quasimedieval mysticism.1

Painted in 2017, this portrait shares affinities with the hypnotic works shown the same year in Barton’s first solo exhibition in New York. Like the fierce subjects of those paintings, here the sitter acts as a semihuman bridge between the viewer and the more terrifying creatures of Barton’s universe. Gesturing cryptically and peering into the abyss, she encourages us to proceed with caution, abandoning ourselves to the wonderful sensory experience of this world and beyond.

1. Wallis, P., ‘Matrix of Desire’, Del Kathryn Baton, The Highway is a Disco, National Gallery of

Victoria, Melbourne, 2017, p. 5

LUCIE REEVES-SMITH

47

BRONWYN OLIVER

(1959 – 2006) SASH, 1994 copper 28.0 x 193.0 x 11.5 cm

ESTIMATE: $50,000 – 70,000

PROVENANCE

Christine Abrahams Gallery, Melbourne Western Mining Corporation, Melbourne BHP Billiton, Melbourne, acquired within WMC Collection, June 2005 Sotheby’s, Melbourne, 24 November 2008, lot 1 Private collection, Sydney

EXHIBITED

Recent Work by Bronwyn Oliver, The 1994 Moët & Chandon Fellow, Christine Abrahams Gallery, Melbourne, 21 October – 16 November 1995, cat. 5

LITERATURE

Fink, H., Bronwyn Oliver: Strange Things, Piper Press, Sydney, 2017, p. 114 With a fabric made of ruched sheet metal tightly bound with riveted struts, the long and narrow swag that is Sash, 1994 twists and strains, the warmth of its patinated copper evoking a living form enclosed within its sheathed package. This sculpture belongs to a small group of selfcontained closed forms within Bronwyn Oliver’s oeuvre of latticed copper wire sculptures, poignantly evoking the artist’s own sense of geographical dislocation and protective remove. This sculpture also, however, conveys the possibility of metamorphosis, the potential of an unseen life force to break free of its cocoon.

There is a rich history of wrapped and bound forms in Western Art, from Michelangelo’s sculptures of bound slaves to Christo’s contemporary environmental interventions1, often illustrating tensions between constriction and escape, concealment and unveiling. This dichotomy has been a persistent thread within Bronwyn Oliver’s practice. Getting Through, one of her early performance pieces during a bush retreat with Marina Abramovic and Ulay in August 1981, featured Oliver trapped within a phonebooth, tied up with ropes. From within Oliver attempted to call her peers, asking them to release her binds from the outside. Many years later, Oliver’s series of closed form ‘Mute’ sculptures were similarly impregnable, containing a secret void within, tightly shielded from outside intervention.

Sash was created in Hautvillers, a village in Épernay, France, during Bronwyn Oliver’s year-long residency between 1994 – 1995. She had been the first sculptor to win the Moët & Chandon Art Fellowship some

months earlier. By then, already one of Australia’s finest contemporary sculptors, Oliver had a dedicated following of private collectors and erudite critics. Armed with the tools of her trade and an unfortunately insufficient grasp of the French language, Oliver arrived in Épernay with the determined intention to ‘concentrate on my work away from my commitments. I can experiment with new techniques. I hope to get a forge there. This is not a year to waste.’2 It was only towards the end of her stay that she was able to fulfil this wish, with a delivery of oxyacetylene equipment allowing experimentation with sheet metal as opposed to copper shim, described by the artist as a ‘relief after weeks of fine, detailed concentration to be able to swing a hammer over an anvil.’3 Oliver has laboriously sewn and stitched the skin of this sculpture with fire and a rivet gun, endowing the warm material with a haptic quality of folded cloth. This quality is further magnified by the contrast between an uneven crystalline patination against Oliver’s regular criss-crossed binds.

In describing her most successful works, Bronwyn Oliver remarked that with a perfect combination of concept, medium and execution, the sculpture would ‘sing’, and using a ‘poetry of association’, would transcend conventional markers of time and space.4 The instinct to grapple with poetic associations is human, and a carefully laid trap that Bronwyn Oliver, as Ariadne, has woven for her audience. She drew inspiration from organic matter, prehistoric and ancient artefacts, and through a manipulation of surface texture and colour, was able to ‘incorporate the element of time’5 in her copper forms. The works of this small series all share a pleated surface inspired by a ‘dreadful sculpture seen at the Musée d’Orsay in 1990 – 91, a sculpture of a gladiator, in bronze, wearing ruched leggings, with musculature taut beneath the surface of the cloth.’6 Evoking an abandoned archaeological hoard or an ancient bundle of possessions wrapped for ease of carrying, Sash also expresses the nomadic transience of Oliver’s brief but stimulating sojourn in France.

1. Ian Howard, Oliver’s first art teacher, recalls having given a talk in Inverell on the subject of

Christo’s Little Bay project in 1969, when he first met Oliver as a child. Fink, H., Bronwyn

Oliver – Strange Things, Paper Press, Sydney, 2017, p. 11 2. The artist cited in Owen, S., ‘Career by Default’, The Sun-Herald, 13 February 1994, p. 142 3. The artist cited in Fink, op. cit., p. 114 4. Sturgeon, G., Contemporary Australian Sculpture, Craftsman House, Sydney, 1991, pp. 73 – 74 5. Oliver, B., ‘A Contemporary Australian Artist in France’, Explorations, The Institute for the

Study of French-Australian Relations, Melbourne, December 1990, p. 27 6. The artist, cited in Bunyan, M., ‘Review of The Sculpture of Bronwyn Oliver at TarraWarra

Museum of Art’, Art Blart, 28 January 2017

LUCIE REEVES-SMITH