Quote: Tyson Yunkaporta

These pages and carvings of stories aren’t talking about the way things were in the good old days, or even the remnant cultural processes that still work well for our Indigenous communities today. These knowledges are present, but they inform the lens for our inquiry into the state of the world. They don’t provide exotic content to be consumed by readers looking for ancient wisdom. Ancient wisdom may provide examples of healthy models of governance, economies and technologies, but these can’t really help at the moment unless there is a through-line to now. These things can only help if examined alongside stories of development, growth, cybernetics, liberalism, modernism, post-modernism, post-truth and the other dominant abstractions that are shaping our reality.

Right Story, Wrong Story: Adventures in Indigenous Thinking

The Ancestor

I made this weird piece of art, in mixed media including gouache, watercolour and oil pastel, inspired by reading an essay on the Sami writer and artist Johan Turi, in a book of essays and images: Sami Art and Aesthetics. Turi was alive from late nineteenth century to the 1930s, and his enterprise was to try and explain Sami-ness for outsiders, in order, as he believed, to help the Scandinavian governments of Sweden and Norway to understand the ways of the life of the Sami peoples. He believed that it was this understanding which would lead to the government implementing laws and structures which would help the Sami to flourish on their own terms.

In the essay by Seven Aamold it is explained that Turi’s visual art has been largely considered to belong within the label of primitive art, lacking in understanding of academic concepts such as perspective and so on. In the 1980s and 1990s, however, ideas about what primitive art constituted was challenged academically as colonial in perspective. The premise of Aamold’s essay is that a much richer reading of Turi’s work can be undertaken, an understanding that his “use of multiple viewpoints, from above, as upside-down images, or in detail…Turi added his motifs in rhythmic patterns, independent of any single perspective. The result is a strong impression of movement.” Aamold considers how Turi’s work reflects the unique epistemology of the Sami way of life.

Turi describes himself:

“I am a Sami who has (…) come to understand that the Swedish government wants to help us as much as it can, but they don’t get things right regarding our lives and conditions, because no Sami can explain to them exactly how things are. And this is the reason: when a Sami becomes closed up in a room, then he does not understand much of anything, because he cannot put his nose to the wind. His thoughts don’t flow because there are walls and his mind is closed in. (…) But when a Sami is on the high mountains, then he has quite a clear mind. And if there is a meeting place on some high mountain, then a Sami could make his own affairs quite plain.

I don’t wish to romanticise, and I’m aware of Turi as a man, as a ‘hunter and a reindeer herder’, and so his concepts might not represent all Sami people, including Sami women. However, I find this idea interesting in artistic terms.

I chose his work ‘Mother and Child on a Sleigh’, a sketch he made on cardboard, which has no date. The staring face of the larger figure has been interpreted either as a mother and child of naturalistic origin, ie an illustration of Sami daily life, as the Virgin and Jesus from Christian tradition, or as an ulddat, which is a spiritual humanoid of Sami tradition. The small face, which I didn’t use in my work, might represent a child. Aamold’s preferred interpretation is of the sketch being the figures are of a mother and child from the ulddat realm. The ulddat are parallel spiritual beings, who guide human Sami but have independent lives, including children. Aamold’s interpretation of the face of the mother figure is interesting because he suggests how the face has a gaze ‘both inwardly and outwardly directed’. This interests me as in my interpretation of the figure, I decided to underpin it with a drawing I did a few years ago of the Italian writer Sylvia Federici. At the time I was researching the witch hunts in Europe, and read Fredric’s incredible book ‘Caliban and the Witch: Women, the Body and Primitive Accumulation’. It’s a look at the witch hunts from an economic/political point of view, specifically its a history of the body in the transition to capitalism. giving a “panoramic account of the often horrific violence with which the unruly human material of pre-capitalist societies was transformed into a set of predictable and controllable mechanisms.” This strikes me as having a similar ring to Turi’s multi perspective way of perceiving and experiencing the world, which he was trying hopelessly to explain to the the governments, always hoping they would just finally understand if he could just explain properly.

When I painted the piece I wasn’t thinking about all of this too deeply, I just felt moved to use the ink drawing of Federici as an underpinning for it as I worked from Turi’s possible ulddat and child or virgin and child, whichever was inspiring him. Indeed we don’t need to ask the question as it strikes me as being a universally understood symbol. I realised later that what had interested me about Turi, apart from just responding to his art work, was his belief that if he just explained correctly then the figures in authority would understand, would have a flash of understanding, would experience a paradigm shift, which would make them not only accept Sami peoples as a ‘viable’ modern people, but would be inspired to help them to thrive on their own terms. He must have been convinced of this and seen evidence of it, or been reassured that he was on to something. It reminds me of the tendency of autistic people to overexplain things from their perspective, a tendency which is often reviled and has the opposite effect of irritating and making people stop listening. it reminds me also of David Graeber’s essay ‘Dead Zones of the Imagination: on violence, bureaucracy, and interpretive labor’ an essay which is central in my work and thinking, where he describes the tendency for ‘Violence’s capacity to allow arbitrary decisions, and thus to avoid the kind of debate, clarification, and renegotiation typical of more egalitarian social relations, is obviously what allows its victims to see procedures created on the basis of violence as stupid or unreasonable. One might say, those relying on the fear of force are not obliged to engage in a lot of interpretive labour, and thus, generally speaking, do not.’

It makes me think of Federici, being on the left politically, and an academic, and the oceans of words and ideas produced in this sphere, a whole universe of thought, dedicated to the deep analysis and interpretation of history, an effort to try to bend it towards the light, while the forces of politics and economics drive us ever further towards the dark days of authoritarianism and ecological despair. It’s as if we can’t seem to describe, or get through to, the trampling forces towards violence, no matter how hard we try…..

When I first began my deep interest in the Sami people and their art, I watched a film by Maja Hagarman and Claes Gabrielson, What measures to save a people? about Herman Lundburg who was a physician and professor who headed the world’s first state racial biology institute in Uppsala, Sweden from 1922-35. He was obsessed with the threat of racial mixing between Sami, Finns and Swedes and operated a years-long experiment in measuring and recording the ‘characteristics’ of Sami families, later serving as an advisor to the Nazis. That this was happening at the same time as Turi was trying so hard to explain the Sami world view through his art and writing speaks volumes.

Quote: Nora Bateson

Art lets us be subjective without asking us to commit medieval surgery on the vocabulary of our impressions. Art asks us to meet it with our particular-ness exposed and open. Art changes. It cannot be pinned down. It is un-located. Unreasoned. Unproven.

Meanings change when we receive them through different lenses. Ask any room of people to describe what a Magritte painting means to them and each person will have a different take. Start back at the beginning and yet another set of meaningful observations will arise. We are allowed to move in art. The ecology of our ideas and epistemological limitations is permitted another sort of oxygen altogether when art is the subject.

Art is free to move through culture and time, to reverberate the outlines of a particular moment in history against others that are unmentioned. Art pulls perception toward the differences between light, notes, colour, subjects, framings, ideas, emotions, and stories. Art speaks in relationships. It is relationships. And we are in relationship to it and each other. All this relatedness is a mess of entanglement, shifting impressions and associations. It is, in that sense, alive, much like a pond or a forest. Art is a system of systems, which we enter with our additional systems – our perceptions, our sense, our thoughts and histories, our personal injuries, our educations, our willingness, and maybe our sense of humour.

Small Arcs of Larger Circles: Framing Through Other Patterns, 2016

Quote: Thomas Moore

The arts allow us to contemplate our experiences and therefore invite soul into the picture. They sustain the emotions the soul feeds on and retain the complexity of meaning that is proper to its realm. The mind appreciates the reduction of meaning to logic and classification, but the soul finds more to chew on in diversity, density, and subtlety…if we see ourselves as a puzzle to be solved, then we will be satisfied with rational explanations, but if we see ourselves as made up of unfathomable mysteries, then we will need images that are not excessively reductive. A good artistic presentation may well lead us deeper into confusion and help us feel the chaos of life more vividly than ever. The truth is art is diffuse and largely ineffable, but at the same time it offers a degree of honesty and certainty not found elsewhere.

The Re-Enchantment of Everyday Life.

Music in the studio – incl quote: Fred Tomaselli

I consider music to be a tool in my studio.

Fred Tomaselli, in conversation with Joe Figg, Inside the Painter’s Studio, Princeton Architectural Press, 2009

Why do I need music while I’m painting? There’s something about the act of entering which I find in each. I find the temporality of music to be similar painting. I don’t know if paintings are like music – yes I think it probably is. Music for me is a way to directly tap into a particular body mind situation, feeling, mood or memory, and so I have specific musicians and albums and pieces of music that I use, quite a wide repertoire, although I often get into one thing for a period of time and listen to it over and over again. I take this so seriously that I often won’t listen to the music I’m using to paint at other times of the day.

Music adds temporality to paintings because it reflects the physical actions of painting, which happen over time. There are the actions which occur at the time, the ‘push-pull’ of paint passages against each other, and the gaps between episodes, which are in effect between layers. When you look at a painting, it can go on forever because the painting act is embodied in the paint, in pigment, and especially in the fluidity of the carrier, ie water or medium. A painting has ‘passages’, which I’ve always imagined to be music, to be temporal like music rather than some other, purely visual, sense.

For the artist, and for the audience if they are informed, the memory of doing the work can be reanimated over and over again by listening to the same music as was playing when it was made. 

Really I just often think of how I want to paint pictures like how music feels to me. It’s difficult to express verbally, because of course that is the point – both music and painting can express what can’t be said in language, they are their own languages for showing emotions and experiences, which can tap into the actual feeling. Or rather, I suppose, if you experience memory as a set of physical emotions. Maybe not everyone experiences memory like that, or emotion either.