Today we had our first off-campus WLP symposium at the Phillips Collection, a contemporary art museum near Dupont Circle. While we wondered into numerous exhibits of differing styles, the Contemporary Women Artists from Aboriginal Australia was the main attraction.
When we reached the exhibit on the top floor, we were faced with all kinds of patterns and art mediums. The first thing that caught my eye was the basket weaving activity at the entrance of the exhibit. Two instructors invited our group to sit on the floor in a circle and attempt to create a work of art ourselves. They distributed the strong fibers already knotted together and taught us how aboriginal women intricately weave these fibers to make baskets and other household objects, including full rugs. As I started to get the hang of the constant twisting and braiding, one of the instructors explained how burdensome, not only the process of making these household essentials is, but also harvesting all of the resources to make them. When someone asked how long it takes to make a full basket, she told us how the women that have been practicing for years have very "fast fingers" and can produce a full basket in about a day. I, on the other hand, took about 15 minutes to complete 3 full spirals.
Next, a classmate and I explored a dark, secluded section from the rest of the exhibit. It was interesting to see the contrast of all the bright reds, whites, and yellows between the exhibit and this small corner. It turns out, the corner had the only digital piece in the Aboriginal exhibit. The plaque next to the piece described that the singular frame we were looking at was the culmination of 124 painting by the same artist, embedded together using technology. The fading in and out of paintings was captivating, almost enchanting. We ended up watching for at least ten minutes in complete silence. The fading painting looked like the image was moving right in front of our eyes, shifting the focus to the six trees, the three beavers, then the father and son. The fading in and out of similar paintings was supposed to represent time elapsing in our lifetime and the endlessness of the cycle – with no beginning or end.
It was only afterwards that I found out that artwork has greatly impacted the female artists’ financial independence and overall appreciation for their culture in the Western world. The infinite scratches on the tree bark and colored dots on the canvases were able to convey the message that there is no one "right" way to produce art and that everyone has their own story to tell the world.
Isabel Tapies, GEB 2018-19
Marking the Infinite at the Phillips depicted a collection of contemporary works from aboriginal Australian, female artists who portray their navigation between their ancestral cultures and their modern lives. In Cynthia Freeland’s But Is It Art?, she remarks on how difficult it can be for native cultures to express themselves in a modern world. She writes “It is burdensome if the twenty-first century ‘primitive’ artist is supposed to have escaped the march of history to help the rest of us treasure some mythical past,” commenting on how difficult it can be for native populations to simultaneously remain true to their culture and incorporating originality and artistry into their works ( Freeland 83). One artist who navigates the challenge rather well is Lena Yarinkura whose works Spider and Yawkyawk pushed the boundaries of traditional basket weaving and mat making by integrating these techniques into her art. She even said “Before, people didn’t have any new ideas-they just made baskets and mats-but not this thing… I always think to make different things-it’s really hard. But I like to keep changing, always new,” (Yarinkura). Spider, in particular, represents the struggle between new and old. Yarinkura explains that she did not invent the depiction of the spiders on the web, but that she merely created it in her own way. Furthermore, she explains that the spider, itself, utilizes the old technique of web building, but it fashions an original piece every time. Overall, Marking the Infinite’s place in the Phillips further depicts the constant struggle between respect for origins and the gaze ahead for the future, since placing Aboriginal art in a contemporary space opens the dialogue.
Asha Anderson, IAC 2018-19
When I entered the “Marking the Infinite” exhibit at the Phillips Gallery, I was first and foremost struck by the overpowering aesthetic beauty of the artwork. There was such diversity in the sizes and shapes of the pieces, the mediums with which each carefully constructed work was created, and the multitude of colors and symbols that surrounded me. Before even reading the wall plaques that gave me context about the artists and their personal histories, I was able to appreciate the pieces from the surface level. Nevertheless, it was only after discovering the cultural and historical background of this gorgeous artwork that I began to truly appreciate the pieces in their entire context.
In “Cultural Crossings,” Cynthia Freeland draws on philosopher John Dewey’s idea that simply making contact with another culture’s art can cause an outsider to comprehend it. Dewey supports the idea of having a “direct experience” with art; for example, in my case, walking around the third floor of the Phillips and looking at the art alone would be enough to appreciate it. However, Freeland continues on to claim that even though “art is a very deep expression of attitudes and outlook,” an outsider’s experience will be further enhanced by the cultural context of the situation. This idea mirrors my experience at the Phillips. Being unaware of the significance of the art in this exhibit did not necessarily limit my enjoyment of it, but learning the history of the culture and the background of the artists themselves provided me with a deeper understanding that is unachievable by simply having an “immediate experience.”
One of the works I connected with was Nyapanyapa Yunupingu’s “Djorra,” created with felt tip pen and earth pigments on paper. When I first walked into the room, I was immediately drawn to her use of warm shades and winding lines, with each paper of the same size displayed on the same wall so that they complemented and contrasted each other simultaneously. Aesthetically, I appreciated her color palette and the intricacies of her work. Then, when I read the plaque next to it, I began to grasp the art on another level. She was quoted saying, “I am drawing on paper. These are not special stories. I am drawing my ideas. Stories from my head. I am still working. Drawing lines, work like this one….I am drawing trees on my paper. The picture is about the trees. More branches on that tree. As I am working on my story, I am thinking of the next one.” Yunupingu’s matter-of-fact approach to her work resonated with me. After seeing her art, I discovered she is an acclaimed printmaker whose work is featured in every major public collection in Australia. Yet, she takes each piece step-by-step, pausing to consider the ramifications of a single tree branch. As a fellow artist, I admire this strategy. I am often overwhelmed by the many decision-making processes of my art form. Knowing her background, and reading what she has to say about her process, gave me a more profound perception of the beautiful art I was standing in front of.
In “Cultural Crossings,” Freeland cites Richard Anderson’s definition of art as a good summarizing idea. Anderson characterizes art as having a “cultural significant meaning, skillfully encoded in an affecting, sensuous medium.” This is the definition of what I experienced at the Phillips Gallery, and what I believe many people experience when viewing any type of art today.
Ruby Dietz, IAC 2018-19
