The exchange of art for money has allowed Aborigines economic independence. Since the 1970's, Australia has stressed a policy of self-determination for their indigenous people. This explosion on the art market has given Aborigines a voice concerning their own future. They have found a way to make money with their own talents and knowledge from their culture (see Fig. 22). Though the actual gains may be disputed (as it will be discussed in the section on Aboriginal exploitation), this has been one of the only ways that Aboriginals have taken advantage of the markets. One of the main reasons to paint is to earn money. The paintings have an "additional economic role, constituting in some communities an important industry which supplement many Aborigines' minimal incomes from unemployment benefits or from work in the livestock industry" (Benjamin 1990:75).
The paintings continue to gain value. Whereas in 1987, painting boards sold for $40, large acrylics in exhibitions now sell for around $1,800. Sixty percent of the profit goes to the artist. Well known artists like Clifford Possum Japaljarri and Michael Nelson Jakamarra can make $10,000--$15,000 for each painting (Benjamin 1990:78).
The acrylic movement of the Western desert is basically the first internationally recognized art movement originating from Australia. Aboriginal artists are being picked to represent to represent the country instead of white artists. In 1990, two Aboriginal artists were picked to represent Australia in the Venice Biennial (Benjamin 1990: 79). In the same way, Aboriginality is becoming a sign for the nation.
The popularity of Aboriginal acrylic paintings coincides with the search for a meaningful image to stand for the Australian nation. Increasingly, Aboriginal culture and symbols are being used to configure for a unifying symbol of what it means to be Australian. The acknowledgment of Aboriginal achievement and contribution has been a big step in the way Australians view Aboriginality, but it has also gotten to a point where Aboriginal images and paintings "become the lost sacredness of Western culture" and "are ascribed a spirituality which the 'materialist' West has lost" (Lattas 1991:312).
Australia has been characterized as lacking this identity, lacking "a symbolic space for realizing its existence" (Lattas 1991:311). Australia has no singular myth or individual on which a notion of national solidarity can be formed. There is no uniting thread which has stood the test of time, no characteristic or group which has emerged out of Australian history.14 It is a lack of past, a lack of spirituality that is creating this hollow emptiness and
the growth of this interior landscape of nothingness is seen to emerge from us [Australians] having closed ourselves off from our past and from the outside world of other human beings. The desert grows and becomes more powerful with the growing self-closure of human existence" (Lattas 1991:321).
In addition to a symbolic place, Australian culture lacks a tangible center for their social and cultural world. Julie Marcus observes that, "There has been no single, central, place at which the universal values that characterized aspects of nationalistic ideologies and rites could be located and made manifest" (1988:259). The emptiness found in urban settings where 80% of white Australians live is symbolic of the lack of a unifying past and place.
The lacking of a significant and symbolic place, image or mythology also becomes more of a concern when trying to create a distinctive voice in the internationally. Increasingly, Australia has tried to fabricate a national identity
in response to the incorporation of Australia into the periphery of a world economic system. As national boundaries become economically insignificant, as national governments become less and less able to influence national economic forces, there seem to be a reaffirmation of cultural reality, value and autonomy of the nation state" (Marcus 1988:256).
Tourism also plays a large role in the importance of a national identity as culture becomes another resource to be exploited. In this sense, "other knowledges are being transformed rather than classified, perhaps in order to support an illusion of the reality of nationality" (Marcus 1988:256). Aborigines and their art are the "knowledges" made spiritually strong by ties in the past that will be imprinted on outsiders minds.
The appropriation of culture often occurs when that certain identity becomes a source of power. Aboriginal and Aboriginality are no longer "impediments to progress, but cultural assets" (Rubinstein 1989:45). All aspects of Aboriginality (though not necessarily Aboriginal people) have become valued. The interior of Australia, long looked upon as harsh, desolate and impenetrable by white Australians, has become a place of life, vibrancy and endurance.15 In the same way that the Australian outback has become the physical place for reenchantment and solidarity, Aboriginal paintings have been appropriated as images of this kind of identity.
Art is a way to create a sense of homogenous identity within nations. Just as art is more a sign than substance, 'Aborigine' is used by Australia as a sign (Lattas 1991:309, Myers 1991:39). The Aboriginal artists are being called on to paint on the empty canvas left unfilled by Australian past. Through images of deeper meaning representative of the land and ancient past, Australia can discover 'a soul' distinctive enough to create an unique identity but unifying enough to stand for a nation.
This appropriation of Aboriginal culture to represent Australian identity is disturbing in many ways. It was only through necessity and Australian self-interest that the Aboriginal culture came to be noticed. In some respects, Australia is "looting from the dream it censors" (Davila 1987:55). Aboriginals have been picked to represent a country who up until thirty years ago didn't count them as people, and who still now see Aborigines in terms of the objects which they produce instead of a culture that was almost destroyed by white colonization. The Aborigines were picked not to represent themselves but rather to represent a country which misunderstands them. It can be looked on as a second colonization, a cultural colonization, "giving [Aboriginal culture] meanings it never had, and above all making that culture speak one's own cultures truths" (Lattas 1991:315).
"White people don't fully appreciate these dreaming that we paint. These dreamings are a part of this country we all live in . Europeans don't understand this sacred ground and the law that constrains our interaction with it. We've been trying to explain it to them, to explain what it means to us. For the sake of all Australians, we try to show them that this is our land. We try to show them our dreamings which are part of this country that we all live in. But white people don't even recognize our ownership of it. We paint these picture and they still can't understand. They want them as souvenirs to hang on their walls, but they don't realize that these paintings represent the country, all this vast land." --Michael Nelson, Warlpiri artist (Myers 1991:51)
The already established imbalance of power between a marginal culture and the dominant culture must force one to consider whether representation is an act of exploitation. Art critic, Craig Owens talks about the indignity of speaking for others and the way that power is exercised through the control of the means of representation. He agrees with Foucault in seeing representation (in the West) as "an integral part of social processes of differentiation, exclusion, incorporation and rule" (Owens 1992:91). In other words, representation within dominant discourses is never neutral and has the power of creating identity and inscribing (or reinscribing) domination within the system. Through the production of their art, Aboriginals have begun the first step of representing themselves, but it is only through spaces and materials located within dominant culture that their presence is noted. Owens says, "it is precisely in being represented by dominant culture that these groups have been rendered absences within it" (Owens 1992:262). Western 'language' is the only way we can talk about indigenous forms which make it into the Western world as art. This also means that power is designated and representation is mediated by the dominant society and not through Aboriginal culture.
Ethnocentrism is potentially a consequence of representation by others. We acknowledge indigenous paintings as different, but they are never allowed to function in a way that challenges Western thought (Willis and Fry 1989a:114). It is only through conforming to Western ideals, such as using permanent materials, framing 'art' inside a square canvas, and being shown inside the institutions that authenticate and give meaning, that Aboriginal art can ever be acknowledged. The representation of culture is the construction of culture.
The construction of the Other takes on many meanings. Misrepresentation is rampant. For example, though the symbolic nature of the paintings is a reason for the attractiveness of them, the paintings are often read incorrectly. Many times, the art is wrongly classified as abstract art which ignores "past, present, kin, ancestors, animate and inanimate [that] are all linked in non-rationalist patterns and make nonsense of our binary opposites" (Willis and Fry 1989a:113). Only the aesthetics of the art are appreciated and the culture is perceived as a group of artists. For example take this comment:
These clever sorts managed to discover a whole tribe of Picassos in the desert, presumably a mysterious result of spontaneous cultural combustion. We're told of the curator's astonishment at finding more painters per capita of population than in Manhattan's Soho. (Michaels 1988:62).
In some representations, the connection to cultural past is total overlooked and the painting becomes a piece of art with no connections. As one critic pointed out: "Aboriginal art at its best is as powerful as any abstract painting I can think of" (Myers 1991:37). This is truly a nearsighted evaluation, but one that is risked by having Aboriginal paintings conform to Western standards.
Lately, what most often is the case is a stress on the painting's traditional and spiritual ties. The paintings are usually sold or displayed with a written documentation of the story depicted in the painting, the individual artist, and where it was painted. Simultaneously, this gives the painting value in authenticity and Otherness (as well as raises its cash value). For instance, many of the Aboriginal paintings waiting to be sold can be accessed on the World Wide Web. Here is a example of a story accompanying a painting on the Internet:
This painting depicts designs associated with the Tingari ceremonies at the site of Katakuta, a swampy area to the West of Jupiter Well. In the creative era, a group of Tingari men traveled through this site. Because of the secret nature of events associated with the Tingari Cycle, no future detail was given. (a further explanation of who the men is given) (Delin 1996b).
In addition to the painting's background, the artist's background and connections to Aboriginal past, people and places is established. After this, an account of the artist's style and techniques is given in a description reflective of the Western fine art tradition.
Mick Namarari's approach to painting has always been personal and inventively subtle. There seems not to be a single Mick Namarari style; he employs a whole array of techniques and structures. His brittle linework has the clarity and incisiveness of Paul Klee, while at time he will paint pure dotted surfaces with just the vaguest suggestion of an emergent form of trace of an ancestor. [He] is acknowledged as the most consistently brilliant of all the painters during the movement's nineteen year history (Delin 1996c).
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Fig.21 Yumari by Uta Uta Jangala, Papunya, 1981, acrylic on canvas (Sutton, 1988:137) |
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Fig. 22 Four Snakes at Piltada by Riley Major Tjangula, Papunya, 1986, acrylic on canvas. "This painting concerns four snakes who emerged from a spring at Piltada ...Men entered the ground as wind..and later emerged as men...As this site was forbidden to those men, the four snakes descended on them and drowned them.. The story is part of the sacred-secret men's Tingari cycle so no further detail was given" (Isaacs 1989:60). |
There is, thus, a fine line between representing the Other without differentiating or portraying the Other as exotic (compare Fig. 21 with Fig. 22). By calling attention to differences, such as including the stories and emphasizing the myths and symbolism, the Aborigine is imagined to be an exotic spectacle for the entertainment of the colonizer. However, in failing to acknowledge difference, the painting loses all connections to time, space and meaning. In both of these portrayals, it is still Aboriginals being spoken about and spoken for.
Perhaps the solution lies in having Aboriginals represent themselves, but it is wrong to assume that all Aborigines are alike and have the same knowledge, background and skill to create the 'true' representation of their culture (Langton 1994:95). "By mystifying the concept of culture...every Aboriginal person is assumed to carry an equivalent amount of what is perceived as the body of knowledge, values and concepts that make up Aboriginal culture" (Lattas 1996:246). This is the myth of the undifferentiated other and it ignores all differences of class, gender or cultural variation.
Although financial concerns are a large incentive for Aborigine involvement in painting, this makes it easier for their domination in the sphere of economics. Willis and Fry take the stance that the situation is "a marketing strategy by white bureaucrats to take away from Aboriginal self-management" (Willis and Fry 1989a:111). They point out that there are no Aboriginal collectors of Aboriginal fine art. Often all the profits do not end up in Aboriginal hands because of the networking involved. The piece of art gains value as it moves from the community co-op, to galleries and local dealers and on to national and international markets, but the Aboriginal painters do not necessarily benefit from the rising value (Willis and Fry 1989a:112-113). In 1987, 17%-33% of the final sale went back to Aboriginal artists, while white commercial artist received 60%-70% of their own profits (Willis and Fry 1989a:163). It is not surprising to find inconsistencies in a situation where indigenous people are integrating into the Western markets.
The economic changes and individual painter's success have also changed the social and economic relations of Aboriginal society. In one example, a man and his family were murdered because of a fight over money from a painting. A result of, "A cultural economy of ownership, artistic identity and property collid[ing] with a cultural economy of common goods" (Willis and Fry 1989a:15). Two different worlds have been engaged, disrupting the relations between people. Often the artists share profits with the community, but this also creates a network of dependency on the artist, where there is a pressure to produce marketable goods in order to sustain the community.
In addition, white artists have made gains by appropriating symbols and styles. This follows along the same lines as the appropriation of the Aborigine as a sign for Australia. White artists use Aboriginal images as a "signifier of creative energy" (Willis and Fry 1989a:113). The artists incorporate the experience of Aborigines into something which not only they can translate but white artists literally use the image to represent him/her self. This trend has much to do with the popularity of Aboriginal art because it means economic gains for the white copies (Davila 1987:53-55).
Another important factor to consider is how accessible these preserved forms are to Aboriginals themselves. In the past and even now, the preservation of cultural forms is often more important than that particular culture's rights. Aboriginal property is taken from its roots and located elsewhere, out of Aboriginal hands. Henrietta Fourmile looks at this issue in reference to natural history and scientific museums. The research and artifacts of Aboriginal culture are kept in ways that
the interests of science are put before the interests of the people scientists purport to study and in which the distribution of power and resources between the two groups is organized in favor of Science" (Fourmile 1987:7).
Museums have gathered information, and items of cultural identity that are now out of reach to the owners. Many Aboriginals have no knowledge that cultural objects even exist or have no power to gain access to them.
My people...have never seen the designs which are their birthright, until last year when I took back an album of photographs of our artifacts in the South Australia Museum... I was 30 years old before I saw artifacts bearing the totemic emblems of my ancestors and yet the staff and students of one particular institution have been making detailed studies of the material culture from my country for the past seven or eight years, benefiting from museum collections which we did not know about (Fourmile 1987:9-10).
Instead of scientific colonialism, are we instead looking at a form of aesthetic colonialism, where once these paintings leave the hands of the makers the paintings are housed in places the Aborigine cannot or infrequently visits? The paintings are detached from their maker and go into the world, never to be connected with the culture. This is a concern with the functional fine art paintings which are used for both traditional (passing down stories) and contemporary (generating an income) purposes. Once sold, the Aboriginals have no access to the paintings for its traditional use. Is the preservation and perhaps appropriation of the painting more important than Aborigines preserving their own cultural traditions? Is this a way to disconnect and gain power over cultural production? As Fourmile puts it
I believe our cultural rights are the far most important-- and yet most neglected by governments- because if we lose our cultural identity all our other supposed rights will cease to have meaning as we either die through frustration or become assimilated. Either way we are culturally, if not physically, dead (1987:10).
As more and more paintings move from Aboriginal hands to white hands, the retention and accessibility of cultural property must be considered, for without cultural identity, all other rights are meaningless.
In considering exploitation of Aboriginals through their art, it is dangerous to look at them as passive victims. Eliminating Aboriginal control over representation and economics, denies them power and leaves Aboriginals to be mere observers of their fate. They have an active role in decisions concerning Aboriginal culture and its means of representation. To look at the Other as a pawn in the powerful and crushing hand of Western dominance with no other choices is just as detrimental and nearsighted as pure exploitation. This, too, is a means of judgment, an exercise of power. "Those justly outraged and overwhelmed by guilt at the terrible things that have been done to Aboriginal people, for example, still represent them too often as merely victims or passive recipients of the actions of others" (Myers 1994:680).