‘The Ancestors’ Guest Curator: Catherine Benz “What you think you are looking at on that long road to the past is actually beside you where you stand.” – John Berger Art’s origins can be traced back to ritual, the conjuring of spirits and connecting generations across time. The Ancestors speaks to this primordial impulse. Contemporary art which invokes the continuation of the past in the present is punctuated in this exhibition by ritual art relating to ancestor worship and creation myths from ancient China, India and Timor. Ancestral lineages, thresholds of time and shadows of the dead and unborn are conjured by five contemporary artists working in a variety of media. Carved, incised, burnt, pierced and erased, their works are active and corporeal. The ritual art objects are messengers from the recent and distant past, carrying with them a sense of layered time, where mythical and ancestral time coexist with daily life, and an individual’s life is seen as part of a continuum stretching into the far-distant future. In contemporary life, it is hard to think beyond a couple of generations, so dramatic are the predicted changes in the world by the end of this century. The artists in this exhibition invite you to step inside an imaginative realm of layered time, and dwell for some moments amongst the ancestors. Notes I. In ancient Chinese beliefs, the cicada was a symbol for purity and life after death. Sometime over two and a half millennia ago, this cicada was carved out of bone and beautifully incised with a taotie motif. Placed on a venerated person’s body in the tomb, it ensured their continued life in the ancestor world. Inscribed bone was fundamental to the cultures of the Shang dynasty: oracles bones appealed to intercession of the ancestral spirits for guidance. II. A few years ago, Sydney artist Stevie Fieldsend’s desire to reconnect with her Samoan heritage saw her travel to Samoa to undergo the ritual of Malu. Instructed and performed by the tufuga, or master tattooist, the ritual involves strict protocols guiding the three-hour tattooing process and the following 48 hours. The ink is hand-tapped three-layers deep into the skin, from below a woman’s knee to her upper thigh. The tufuga is a custodian of ancestral tatau designs, and bestows the design without discussion. The recipient sleeps on a woven mat on the floor for the next two days and nights with a female guardian by her side, who cares for the sacred tatau. Once received, the Malu protects and shelters, connecting the woman with her ancestral lineage.
On returning to Sydney, Fieldsend created towering totemic sculptures that conjure this ancestral rebirth. The Umbra slender forms are like dancers in a ritual ceremony. Capped with light-filled blown glass, the inky limbs cascade with soft gowns of thread. They evoke sinuous female spirits and accompany Taema and Tiliafaiga, the mythical Siamese-twin sisters who brought the tatau across the water to Samoa. The indigo glass of Twin of Tatau reflects the sea, the deep clefts represent the Siamese twins and the body is coated with the traditional tatau ink – the same that Fieldsend now wears. The tatau passed from the sisters to a male custodian, where it now resides with two family guilds and is passed down through the male line. The strong phallic form of the sculpture refers to this lineage, co-existing with the female twins. III. In this Hindu creation myth, gods and demons collaborate to churn the primordial ocean and release the nectar of immortality, using the snake Vasuki to twist and turn Mount Mandara. As the mountain begins to sink, Vishnu takes the form of a turtle and supports the mountain on his back. On the land behind it is possible to see what emerges from the churned ocean, not least Lakshmi, the goddess of abundance; Kamadehnu, the wish-granting cow and Praijat, the divine flowering tree with everlasting blossoms. On the right hand side is quite possibly the miniature painting’s commissioner. IV. Jewel-like Mughal miniature paintings are writ large in Abdullah M I Syed’s self-portraits as a young poet/artist in love and a mature warrior in conflict, travelling amidst the wandering sun and moon. These shimmering works are arrived at through a labour-intensive process which the artist likens to Mashq, a restorative and cathartic activity. The figures are drawn on the archery paper and then the paper is covered with acrylic inks. Sanding it back partially reveals the underlying grid, archery target design and drawings. The line drawings are then painstakingly carved out with the tip of a blade and, finally, the paper is stamped to create a veil of lotus or rose. Encircling the seated men are motifs borrowed from Persian, Renaissance and Mughal painting that accompany them on their celestial journeys. In the paintings of the sun and moon, the reference of the target motif to Pop Art fades to the background, and instead a South Asian mandala comes to the fore. In the artist’s Islamic tradition, a father should ensure that his son develops both mind and body, through instruction of practices such as the ancient art of archery. In a continuation of this series, A Balancing Act, a porcelain-coated plastic rose emerges from the kiln’s fire as pure white porcelain, like base metal transmuted into gold. The work’s title, Kundan, means gold in its purest form. Strung together, the white porcelain roses are punctuated by smoky black to form a garland as a means to preserve memories. Offering garlands or bangles of flowers or money is a long-standing custom in South Asia. Wedding garlands are preserved by the bridal couple to assure a long marriage. A popular craft, Syed recalls his mother making them at home for celebrations while praying for her children to have a prosperous and happy life.
Born and raised in Pakistan, Syed studied art and design in the USA and Australia and regularly travels and exhibits in all three countries. His art practice frequently draws on traditional crafts from Pakistan, re-invented and re-worked to make sense of the complexities of living between East and West. He likens this to a balancing act, trying to peel back the layers of lived experience to find an enduring spiritual home. The silhouetted portraits are arrived at through a process of taking away, and the plastic burns away in the kiln to reveal a pure porcelain rose. Syed uses these processes as metaphors for spiritual growth. In Persian alchemy, the rose is the mystic centre of a believer’s heart. In Syed's analysis of Mughal and Persian art, the romantic poet and the just leader signify the spiritual qualities of jamāl (beauty) and jalāl (majesty). V. The inscription on the inside of the imperial ‘Fu’ dish in this exhibition reads in translation: “(Lady) Ji (of) Jing (land) made this precious (Fu) vessel, to be used (for the family) forever”. Lady Ji was probably a noblewoman of Jing land, Zheng state, writing in the early years of the Zhou dynasty. Stylised animal motifs and zoomorphic patterns were commonly used, and here we see them in the beast-headed handles and the lion-shaped feet. The “Fu” would have had a lid which mirrors the body, with both halves used for offerings. Such a piece was in the Prince Gong Imperial Mansion collection, documented in an 18th century illustration with a rubbing of the same-worded inscription. Following a time when the “Fu” was buried as grave goods, the dish resurfaced in Prince Gong’s imperial collection, where it was held until the Principal Librarian of New South Wales bought it from a well-documented auction of items precipitated by the fall of the Qing dynasty. It was passed down through two generations of his family, until it arrived at its present home in Sydney, where a four-year old granddaughter is regarding it with interest. Like this bronze “Fu”, the bronze wine vessels “Ju” and “Gue” were intended for ritual use, containing offerings to the ancestors . Their help was sought in order to govern in peace and prosperity, and for the family line to continue in perpetuity. The tools of the ritual of sacrifice were buried with a person to provide for their wellbeing in the afterlife, or handed down from generation to generation. VI. Stemming from the Lulik faith of Timor Leste is the belief that land and people are connected body and soul, from the mountains to certain animals to the people who are their ancestors. The Uma Lulik (spirit house) is the heart of each community. The living and the dead are interdependent: if the ancestors are not cared for, the people’s health and wellbeing is at stake; similarly, the ancestors cannot continue to exist without the sacrificial offerings and attention of their descendants. The ancestors never want their lineage to end, and if the living forget where they come from, the living will get sick. The Uma Lulik is the connector between past and present, a keeping house of traditional knowledge and memories that is constantly renewed. The Indonesian occupation of East Timor saw Uma Luliks burnt and destroyed. Their rebuilding is fundamental to the country’s psycho-social recovery. Ancestor masks like those exhibited here are used in ceremonies, where they are adorned with facial hair, elaborate headdresses or wigs. Ancestral figures that guard the Uma Lulik are carved out of wood, their eyes often detailed with timber inlay and outlined with lime.
VII. The photographs of New Zealand artist, Laurence Aberhart, are characterised by plenitude and simplicity. He invites us into worlds of quiet repose, somehow located outside of time yet charged with presence. A naked light bulb illuminates a humble ancestor shrine lovingly arranged in a back room in Macau. The wharenui interiors emanate the presence of people who have been there, who continue to care for their culture and community as an obligation to their forebears and descendants. Aberhart’s lifelong project is to document for posterity. This was the impetus behind his well-known photographs of the Northland Maori churches. Falling into disrepair, and being built of timber in the wind and rain-swept north, he could see that within a decade many of these churches would disappear – and with them, this part of New Zealand’s history. Since he began photographing in the 1970s, Aberhart has used only the one camera: a century-old, Korona 8” x 10” view camera. Despite its cumbersome nature – the whole apparatus weighs 20kg and requires papers and film not easily obtained – he continues to shoot with it. Eschewing an enlarger, Aberhart makes contact prints and tones them in a gold and/or selenium bath. The qualities of exceptional luminosity and fine detail of his prints are due to this photographic process and Aberhart’s technical prowess. His photographs contain an extraordinary depth of field, bringing sharp focus to even the smallest details, rewarding slow and intent looking. Peering through the window into the worlds he records is a process of discovery. VIII. Lottie Consalvo has recently returned to painting after a few years immersed in performance art. Her performances tested her psychological endurance and physical limits, trying to push past those limits to discover what constrained her and open up space for the possibility of change. As part of the Kaldor Art Projects in 2015, she was mentored by Marina Abramovic whose seminal performances in the 1970s paved the way for successive generations of performance artists. In some ways, her approach to painting is not unlike a performance. The gestural marks are an extension of her body, with the scale of the paintings often mirroring the reach of her arms. There is an economy of gesture, but it is directed with a sense that her whole body is powering it. She taps into a mental state of reverie to find creative illumination and fullness, painting with assured directness. Using thin washes of dry pigments mixed with binder, there is little room for reworking a passage once it is done. Our inherited sense of geometry relates a vertical line to the underworld and the heavens, and a horizontal line to terrestrial wanderings. An arch suggests a threshold, a metaphor for going beyond the present. In Consalvo’s zen-like calligraphic arch, there is a sense of abandonment and emptying of self. Her interest in shrines, natural symmetry, totemic forms and waterfalls come into play in her abstract language. Within her work there is a hospitality that invites us to project our imagination into it, and to perhaps go through it into our own reverie.
IX. The title piece of the exhibition, Judith Wright’s installation The Ancestors, evokes a shadow-land of the unconscious, peopled by spirits of the dead and unborn. Wright’s art practice has frequently involved an intuitive use of found objects. In her powerful installation presented in the 2012 Biennale of Sydney, A Journey, a surreal procession created with masks, mannequins and vehicles made its way through the underworld. The Ancestors follows from that installation, as part of a larger body of work tracing the imagined journey of a lost child from one realm to the next. The ornate and idiosyncratic frames which Wright has amassed suggest a cacophany of the living. From cameo frames that would have carried a portrait of someone held dear, to the formal frame that suggests church architecture with a candle illuminating the devotional image, they all carry their history and tradition of memorialization. They are collected on the wall like a series of portraits – not dissimilar to the arrangement in Aberhart’s photograph, Te Rapunga Wharenui. With their canvases gone, the frames now contain shadow figures. Stained into coarse wooden boards, they are haloed, winged and amorphous. They may be cherubs, angels or apparitions; or perhaps the unborn, the protectors of the living or the ancestral world. Wright’s paintings often make use of silhouetted form, calling on the power of the shadow to conjure. The latter runs deep - the shadow dancing in the light of a fire on a cave wall. The Ancestors delves into this pre-history of the collective unconscious.
Judith Wright: ‘The Ancestors’, 2014, mixed media installation, dimensions variable, Courtesy of the artist and Fox Jensen Gallery, Sydney and Fox Jensen McCrory, Auckland
Laurence Aberhart: ’Interior #1, ‘Tepuhiomatatua’, Te Totara, Bay of Plenty, 7 June 1982’, printed 1984, silver gelatin, gold and selenium toned, 19 x 25 cm unframed, Courtesy of the artist and Darren Knight Gallery, Sydney
Laurence Aberhart: ’Interior #2, ‘Te Rapunga’ Waiomio, Northland, 5 November 1984’, printed 1984, silver gelatin, gold and selenium toned, 19 x 25 cm unframed, Courtesy of the artist and Darren Knight Gallery, Sydney
Laurence Aberhart: ’Interior, Small Shrine, Gong De Lin Temple, Macau, 5 December 2000’, printed 2001, silver gelatin, gold and selenium toned, 19 x 25 cm unframed, Courtesy of the artist and Darren Knight Gallery, Sydney
Laurence Aberhart: ’Whitikaupeka’, Maowhango, April 1982’, printed 1982, silver gelatin, gold and selenium toned, 19 x 25 cm unframed, Courtesy of the artist and Darren Knight Gallery, Sydney
Lottie Consalvo: ’I have fallen’, 2016, acrylic on board, 112 x 142 cm, Courtesy of the artist and Kezia Adams
Lottie Consalvo: ’The space between the skies’, 2016, acrylic on board, 180 x 122 cm, Courtesy of the artist and Jillian Adams
Lottie Consalvo: ’Standing in altered space’, 2016, acrylic on board, 180 x 122 cm, Courtesy of the artist, NKN Gallery, Melbourne and Nanda/Hobbs, Sydney
Lottie Consalvo: ’I’ll be here until I fall again’, 2016, acrylic on board, 180 x 122 cm, Courtesy of the artist, NKN Gallery, Melbourne and Nanda/Hobbs, Sydney
Stevie Fieldsend: ’Umbra’, 2014, wood, glass, metal, Suluape tattoo ink, dimensions variable, Courtesy of the artist and Artereal Gallery, Sydney
Stevie Fieldsend: ‘Twin of Tatau’, 2014, wood, glass, metal, Suluape tattoo ink, 184 x 100 x 100 cm, Courtesy of the artist and Artereal Gallery, Sydney
Abdullah M I Syed: ’A Balancing Act of Royal Proportions: Teacher/Archer’, 2013, acrylic, ink, graphite, gold and silver leaf, woodblock stamps on found target paper, 155 x 155 cm framed, Courtesy of the artist
Abdullah M I Syed: ’A Balancing Act of Royal Proportions: Poet/Lover’, 2013, acrylic, ink, graphite, gold and silver leaf, woodblock stamps on found target paper, 155 x 155 cm framed, Courtesy of the artist
Abdullah M I Syed: ’Kundan’, 2015, HD video, 4 min, edition of 5 + 1 a.p. Courtesy of the artist
Lady Ji of Jing ‘Fu’ Dish, Chinese, late Shang/early Zhou Dynasty, c 780 BCE, bronze, 9 x 29 x 18 cm, Courtesy of Larry Lucas
Abdullah M I Syed: ’A Balancing Act of Celestial Proportions: Moon/Water’, 2013, acrylic, ink, graphite, gold and silver leaf, woodblock stamps on found target paper, diptych, 155 x 155 cm framed, Courtesy of the artist
Lottie Consalvo: ’Standing in altered space’, 2016, acrylic on board, 180 x 122 cm, Courtesy of the artist, NKN Gallery, Melbourne and Nanda/Hobbs, Sydney, $4400
Abdullah M I Syed: ’A Balancing Act of Celestial Proportions: Sun/Fire’, 2013, acrylic, ink, graphite, gold and silver leaf, woodblock stamps on found target paper, diptych, 155 x 155 cm framed, Courtesy of the artist
Archaic Ritual Wine Vessel (Jue), Chinese, Western Zhou Dynasty, c10th century BCE, bronze, 24 x 17 cm, private collection, Sydney
Abdullah M I Syed: ’Gulab-Mala (Rose Garland)-1’, 2015, pearl white and smoked black porcelain, 30 x 70 x 5 cm, Courtesy of the artist
Archaic Cicada Pendant, Chinese, Eastern Zhou Dynasty, 5th-3rd century BCE, carved bone, 6 cm length, Courtesy of Larry Lucas
Ancestor Figure Timor, early 20th century, carved wood, 55 x 24 x 13 cm, Courtesy of Dr John Yu
Ancestor Mask, Timor, 20th century, carved wood, 31x 19 x 6 cm, private collection, Sydney
Ancestor Mask Timor, late 19th- early 20th century, carved wood and soot, 26 x 17 x 4 cm, Courtesy of Dr John Yu
Ancestor Mask, Timor, 20th century, carved wood, 32 x 24 x 13 cm, private collection, Sydney
Rajasthan School, Mewār Style ‘Gods and Demon Churning the Ocean of Milk’, 17th-18th century, watercolour, 12 x 12 cm, Courtesy of Larry Lucas