Denise Woods

Copies, Answers and Aunties

Denise Woods

Are copies ‘always inferior to the original’?1

Copies aren’t necessarily inferior, ‘it depends on your framework’.2

I try to look into the carbon deposit heavy eyes of the subject of Lindy Lee’s The Silence of Painters (1989). This is not easy. There are many versions that make up the entire artwork, and between the blue background paint and layers of photocopy carbon, I feel unable to get to know them. The European subject seems a bit shy, as if hiding behind a veil. Yet I feel drawn to them, all of them. They may not be the original, but they are not inferior, they have a haunting mystery and beauty about them. They have an aura.

Lindy Lee saw these as copies of herself, a ‘bad copy of China and European Australia’.3

What am I a copy of?

My parents grew up in countries that were colonised. My father’s family were known as ‘the King’s Chinese’. They took on the traits of their British colonial masters – speaking English, listening to the BBC, loving Western classical music and musicals, having afternoon tea, enjoying British literature and cricket. But they were not carbon copies – my grandmother still wore sarong kebayas, attire influenced by the Indigenous people of the Southeast Asian islands they’ve lived

[Top and bottom] Auntie, (installation view), 2008, inkjet print, synthetic polymer paint on Chinese accordion book, courtesy the artist and Sullivan+Strumpf, Sydney and Singapore. Lindy Lee: Moon in a Dew Drop, 2022, John Curtin Gallery. Photographer: Sue-Lyn Aldrian-Moyle.

on for generations. She didn’t wear this just for special occasions, she wore this all the time. She cooked Peranakan food and cakes, owned British recipe books, made butter cakes and biscuits. This was all just part of life, part of who they were. But when the Japanese came, this identity became a liability. They had to hide being somewhat of a copy of the British, and from a group that were known to work closely with the British.

My mother grew up in a country where they had to take on new names. You do this because it was demanded by the state, and to show allegiance to the government. Fit in, be as close a copy as possible to what is considered acceptable. Chinese names were replaced with Indonesian sounding names. Chinese identity had to be hidden, cultural customs and celebrations could not be carried out openly. No rowdy Chinese New Year celebrations anymore. The Dutch and Japanese colonisers were harsh, and independence brought a different set of challenges. Don’t risk being accused of being communist or communist sympathisers - do the right thing, use the new names. My maternal grandmother wore Indonesian sarong kebayas as well, the family was not traditionally Chinese but also influenced by the culture and customs of the land that had been ‘home’ for generations. She was a great cook; she made my favourite beef and potato kroket. I grew up thinking this was Indonesian food, which it is, but it also isn’t really – it is the Indonesian version of the Dutch croquette.

My grandparents and parents were bad copies of the Chinese ancestors nobody in the family can remember, too many generations ago.

They were not exactly good copies of the Europeans that had such an influence on their lives either.

And they were faint copies of the traditional owners of the lands they lived on.

I grew up reading Enid Blyton. I wanted to go to boarding schools like Malory Towers or St. Claire’s. I wanted to have midnight rendezvous with my friends. I longed to have adventures like the Famous Five. I am a copy of my parents and extended family.

Like the copies in The Silence of Painters, it’s not easy to work out what my family would have originally been like. They’ve been put through the copier many times. There’s a build-up of so many layers of experiences, each slightly different to the one before, offset just that slightly from each other. At times identity had to be hidden, just like the veil of carbon and ghost-lines in Lindy Lee’s artwork. The painters may be silent, but they are not absent.

‘I fit somewhere in between.’4

But this is not the only or final answer Lindy Lee offers me. Contemplating identity and belonging are just the starting points of the journey to finding true north. The bigger answer, it would seem, is in another question.

‘The essential question in Zen is not who are you, but what are you? The ‘what’ becomes this invitation to understand how this being is actually connected to this world…’5

What am I? How am I connected to this world...

I look into the eyes of Auntie (2008). There are several versions of Auntie Shueng Chan in the accordion book. Her collar tells me that she is wearing traditional Chinese attire, maybe a cheongsam. Black ink on red, each version slightly different from the next, but there is clarity in her eyes. Auntie acknowledges me and my presence, I feel a connection with her. This is a head shot, also a copy, but of a photograph. No questions about the inferiority of copies here, rather a celebration of the rediscovery of images from family albums; images documenting ‘history, ancestry, and relevance’.6

Red is a lucky colour, a colour of celebration. For Lindy Lee, it is also a nod to Imperial China and the Cultural Revolution. Two pages in Auntie’s book have ink splatters, possibly flung, a technique Lindy Lee connects with a sense of authenticity. Not ghost-lines, there are no veils covering Auntie’s gaze or face. Ancestor rendered through inkjet, the subject is not shy, identity not hidden.

I am connected through ancestry.

My aunties are copies, copies with clarity. I can look into their eyes and feel a connection. They have found ways to fit somewhere in between. They have taken on different Asian and Western cultures, habits, and traditions, and live comfortably in that space. They understand how they fit into this world. They were educated in convent schools, grew up in patriarchal societies, shopped using local languages, became teachers, taught English, played netball and piano. They would wear Indonesian sarong kebayas or Chinese cheongsams but only for special occasions. They would make me krokets, kueh pie tee, or take me out to high tea.

The answers are not limited to understanding identity but are found in learning about the self. Lindy Lee shows me how ‘selfhood is something that is always unfolding, is always being

engaged, is always experiencing, is always changing, is always growing, is always connected.’7

I can choose to engage or not to engage – I choose to engage with family, ancestry and history with all its complexities. These inform my current self and my current connections to this world. Finding true north is about the self, and selfhood is like the Auntie accordion book – always unfolding, always changing, but always connected. It was only as an adult I came to realise that my aunties loved me unconditionally.

‘Very beautiful women, strong in their presence.’8

Flung Bronze Objects and Pouring Ladle display case (installation view). Lindy Lee: Moon in a Dew Drop, 2022, John Curtin Gallery. Photographer: Sue-Lyn Aldrian-Moyle.

Author’s note I am inspired by Lindy Lee’s journey of finding her true north, and how this narrative is so creatively and philosophically expressed through her art in this exhibition. As an Australian Chinese, Lindy Lee moves from thinking about identity in relation to belonging (or ‘unbelonging’) between cultures, to learning about the self through her Zen practice. As an Asian Australian, I find answers to my own questions about identity, belonging and connections through Lindy Lee’s art. Copies, Answers and Aunties reflects on how I choose to engage with Lindy Lee’s art, to try and discover my own true north. Lindy Lee may not have had role models when she was growing up, but she is mine.

Denise Woods is an Asian Australian academic living and working on the traditional lands of the Wadjuk people of the Noongar nation. She is a senior lecturer in the Bachelor of Communications program in the School of Media, Creative Arts and Social Inquiry at Curtin University, and an executive committee member of the Asian Australian Studies Research Network (AASRN). Her areas of interest include representations of race and Asia in the Australian media, her work has been published in the Journal of Australian Studies, Media International Australia, and the book Alter/Asians: Asian-Australian Identities in Art, Media and Popular Culture.

1 Audio guide for ‘Early photocopy works’, https://www.mca.com.au/artists-works/exhibitions/lindylee-moon-in-a-dew-drop 2 Audio guide for ‘Early photocopy works’, https://www.mca.com.au/artists-works/exhibitions/lindylee-moon-in-a-dew-drop 3 Audio guide for ‘Early photocopy works’, https://www.mca.com.au/artists-works/exhibitions/lindylee-moon-in-a-dew-drop 4 Audio guide for ‘Early photocopy works’, https://www.mca.com.au/artists-works/exhibitions/lindylee-moon-in-a-dew-drop 5 Lindy Lee: Moon in a Dew Drop (2020), https://www.mca.com.au/artists-works/exhibitions/lindy-leemoon-in-a-dew-drop 6 Artwork label for Auntie (2008). 7 Lindy Lee: Moon in a Dew Drop (2020), https://www.mca.com.au/artists-works/exhibitions/lindy-leemoon-in-a-dew-drop 8 Artwork label for Auntie (2008).