Fragments Shored Against the Ruins

Bluethumb 81 Sackville Street Melbourne 3066, Australia 1- 10 December, 2017

Curated by Ashley Lumb

Aaron Bradbrook Bindi Cole Chocka Emilio Cresciani Merilyn Fairskye Robin Friend Mike Gray Tim Handfield Naomi White

Published in 1922, T.S. Eliot’s modernist poem, The Waste Land was written at a moment of disturbing parallel to the present, one of great disillusionment with the state of the world politically (post WWI), culturally (the modern urban landscape), and individually (the increasing loss of true communication, connection, and faith).

With a title based on the line from The Waste Land, Fragments Shored Against the Ruins examines complex issues of waste and consumption through the works of eight artists. It begs us to think about the clothes we wear, the food we eat, the products we buy and the enormous amount of waste that we generate, all of which damage and deplete precious natural resources. As our consumptive hunger increases, so too does our carbon footprint.

Diverse in nature, the works in this show bring attention to the greatest challenge facing humankind today: environmental sustainability. We shaped our past and are driving the present. Can we build our future responsibly?

Robin Friend

“I grew up in Ascot Vale. At the bottom of the hill where we lived, a creek had been realigned to prevent it from flooding. Huge concrete slabs on either side created an artificial channel that stretched as far as the eye could see. My friends and I would set off on our bikes, with the creek on our right and the city behind us. We would spend the day exploring beyond the suburbs until eventually the sewers, motorways, reservoirs and backyards began to give way to the natural flora and fauna of the Victorian bush. We watched the balance of power shift; two different worlds combining to give birth to another. Victor Hugo described this as “that kind of bastard countryside, somewhat ugly but bizarre, made up of two different natures.”

This photograph is from my series the Bastard Countryside. The series explores humanity encroaching on natural space, sometimes through wanton waste of resources, sometimes the gradual random destruction of habitats from the deadly pollution of rubbish; the vast mass of unwanted stuff which has nowhere else to go. But it also illustrates the dilemma for society trying to create new forms of energy that cause less destruction of the environment and less permanent damage; even ‘cleaner’ forms of energy production like wind turbines and solar farms alter the landscape and attract criticism.

For the last ten years I’ve been visited a lot of abandoned mines in North Wales.

The more underground places I explore the more it becomes apparent that these spaces or worlds if you like, have an unusual hold over me. They are addictive and continue to exist and grow in the mind long after one has returned to the surface. They provide sensory deprivation. In losing the ability of sight the others senses are heightened; and one feels alive. The challenge of creating a photograph in complete darkness underground is a testing experience. Ropes, harnesses and inflatable dinghies are needed and very long exposures with the help of a hand held torch are used to make the final image. Because I use large format film and long exposures there is also an element of chance in how the final image will turn out.”

 
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Emilio Cresciani

In FACE2FACE, Emilio takes his interest in waste to a personal level, making a connection between our public face and what is privately discarded.

Portraits usually focus on someone’s appearance or character but this new series focuses on our private face, that which is hidden to others. Is our true identity found in the rubbish we throw out each day?

Emilio asked his friends to collect their rubbish for the week and then superimposed close up photos of this waste onto a photo of their face. I then turned these into negatives. As an x-ray points out the weakness or disease in our body, so these expose our waste as being a hidden side of our lifestyle.

Many people found it confronting to come face to face with the volume of waste they accumulated over a week. Our consumerism leads us to think of rubbish as a necessary evil – provided it can be removed far away to a landfill or washed down the drain.

The work references 16th century Italian painter Giuseppe Arcimboldo – known for his evocative portraits made of fruit, vegetables, flowers, fish, and books - and Vik Muiz who photographed pickers of recyclable materials in Brazil’s largest rubbish dump, the workers then collaborated to make huge self-portraits out of the garbage.

Tim Handfield

Yarra Balls, 2011: Balls are a constant element in the ebb and flow of suburban rivers. Shape and buoyancy assists their journey from the backyard to the sea. Along the way, they evolve a patina reflecting their individual stories. This series was made along the banks of the Yarra in Abbotsford during 2011, a particularly wet year following years of drought. Each flood provided a new bounty.

Plenty, 2013: There is an empty paved road leading nowhere through native grassland dotted with River Red Gums between Plenty Road and McDonalds Road Mill Park. In the middle distance on one side is a new unoccupied shopping mall behind a cyclone fence, on the other side is a scattered group of warehouse shells. There is an air of expectation; that everything is going to change.  Plenty Road is a virtual timeline of Melbourne’s urban development from the 1940s to the present. Located at the epicentre of Melbourne’s urban expansion this area reveals a landscape undergoing rapid change as the urban edge extends into the grassy eucalypt woodlands of the Victorian Volcanic Plain. There is a tension between the opportunity for new residents to create homes in the world’s largest houses and the associated destruction and loss of significant environment. This work is located in the tradition of topographic landscape photography, revealing through photographic observation the complex relationship between the landscape’s occupants and the resulting alterations to its form.

 
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Aaron Bradbrook

Shrimp is one of the most popular forms of seafood on the planet with approximately 5 million tons being produced every year. Bangladesh is one of the world’s top eight producers of shrimp exporting predominately to the United States, Europe and Japan. Around a third of the shrimp that is consumed worldwide is being produced in on land fields pumped with salt water rather than being caught naturally. This is due to government restrictions preventing the use of rivers to farm naturally, Gabura is a shrimp-producing island located in the far southwest of Bangladesh.

Home to a few thousand where the water is limitless but not a single drop to drink. For many years floods and the rising number of shrimp farms have been the major factors pouring heavily salted water inland resulting in the deterioration of homes, lives, agriculture, food supplies and fresh water. Rice farming which once was the primary source of sustaining this village has been ruined and replaced by shrimp farms leaving this as one of the only places to turn to, for the few who can gain employment. And for the others straying as far as ten miles deep into the Sundarban to gather fresh fish have the threats of money hungry pirates and the veracious Royal Bengal Tiger to worry about.

Bindi Cole Chocka

West Of Eden is the result of an artistic residency at the Western Treatment Plant (WTP) that took place over three months in 2015. The residency set out to open the minds of the broader community and challenge some of its perceptions of the WTP. As an artist, Bindi Cole Chocka had access to a normally quarantined area larger that Malta. Chocka was completely taken by the wealth of inspiration that exists at the WTP, from the industrial and natural vistas to the unique and world-class wetlands. As a result, Chocka created new photographic and video works that both highlight the natural beauty of the WTP while embracing the fact that, in many ways, this land is not natural at all. West of Eden presents a world that may or may not exist but could be a type of Eden, a perfect place to live between worlds.

 
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Marilyn Fairskye

Thirty years ago Reactor No.4 at Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant exploded. In the aftermath, people, and radiation were dispersed across the Soviet Union. Over 600,000 “liquidators” participated in the cleanup. 8,000 people still work there to contain the contamination. Merilyn Fairskye’s series Plant Life is a haunting evocation of the aftermath of the explosion at Chernobyl, 25 years on.

Shot in 2010 Fairskye photographs areas around Chernobyl. By stitching single images into panoramic views of the buildings, vegetation and the earth (which are all still contaminated), she captures evidence of vast emptiness and loss. In Plant Life/playground, a ferris wheel due to open the day after the explosion sits rusting amongst snow and trees, a potent symbol of all that has been lost. Other images show construction cranes still in place. Waste Plant (Chernobyl) depicts a facility that is crucial to the ongoing nuclear safety of Chernobyl—the Interim Spent Fuel Processing Building 2, a nuclear waste storage facility built by French nuclear company Areva in 2007. After a significant part of the storage structure had been built, it was found that there was a major design error in the facility, rendering the building inoperable. It is still awaiting completion. 

Naomi White

Shipwrecked. Using the wind as a metaphor for both uncertainty and hope, plastic packaging is set adrift, menacing travelers from the sky as they drive down the road. Wind turbines and electricity towers form familiar interruptions in the landscape, signs of modernity and convenience, edifices which entrap wayward debris.

Distant and invisible forces have such profound affect on our lives and the lives of our children, individually and collectively. Human-driven climate change is causing rising sea levels and is driving us towards an unsustainable future. Will our children have the same opportunities as we do? What will the road look like for them?

 
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Mike Gray

In recent years the landscape of Australia’s suburbs is showing signs of change, again. The biggest house on the smallest block can be seen as representing a point in the domestic housing cycle where the old suburban home is being replaced by a new dream (house).

“Initially for me though, these new ‘dream houses’ produced anxieties, the origins of which are hard to pin down. There are possible planning and environmental criticisms that could be levelled at McMansions, but these aren’t the source of my apprehension. There is a visceral reaction that tells me something doesn’t belong, but I don’t know if it’s the McMansion, me, or both. Their structures look familiar but they don’t reference the demolished homes or natural bush that used to be there, they look like simulations of imported historic architecture pastiched with modern designs. Their excessive façades, acting as barriers to public scrutiny give few clues as to the lives inside. Instead, it suggests something hidden. This new version of suburbia seems to trade on living out a better, more desirable and affordable fantasy, thereby mimicking the old version as well as advocating its replacement. Curiously, for me, the new dream home suggests, “home is a place where something bad is about to happen”. It is uncanny how something can look like a home but make you think it’s unhomely.”

McMansions can be seen as the latest re-working of what constitutes the metaphoric home. The struggle for identity that started with colonisation, less than two hundred years ago in Australia, is still up for grabs. As the new city continually re-invents itself, it has limited historic referents. A sense of home and belonging evaporates with every re-incarnation of suburbia. The Australian Dream expressed in suburban reality never amount to the same thing, and the difference is uncanny.

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Planetary Gardening | PhotoAccess, Canberra, Australia | 2017