The politics of prison art

The Glen Eira City Council Gallery is in the white neo-classical Caulfield City Hall, constructed in 1885, symbolises colonial imperialism. Is it appropriate for this symbolic architecture to house an exhibition of incarcerated Indigenous people’s art, The Torch’s annual exhibition, Confined? Perhaps not. Perhaps nothing has changed from the colonial era in how white Australia views Indigenous art.

At the Melbourne Centennial International Exhibition of 1888, the art of five Larrakia artists was on display at another neo-classical building, the Exhibition Building. The men had all been prisoners in Fannie Bay Gaol in Darwin when they were somehow (unlikely to be entirely ethically given the carceral environment) convinced to produce art for an exhibition titled Dawn of Art.

This was the first public of Indigenous prison art, attracting both interest and admiration from Melbourne’s colonial inhabitants. Indigenous Australians have been imprisoned for almost as long as the English have occupied their land, and for almost as long, non-Indigenous people, like myself, have been expressing an interest in Indigenous prison art.

There are still colonial attitudes to prison art. Art in prison is part of the good-prison-bad-prison routine, distracting the public from the inhumane conditions and creating a semblance of benevolence and reform. There are feel-good aspects that appeal to the WASP middle class: rehabilitation, therapy, education and job training. What about culture, politics and pleasure? Aren’t those three things meant to happen in prison?

The politics of prison art has three parts. Firstly, who is incarcerated? In Australia, Indigenous people are disproportionately incarcerated. What is the purpose of incarceration, and what is the purpose of art? Is it therapeutic, educational, recreational, cultural or a business? (These same different approaches to art exist outside of prison; only prisons institutionalise the definitions.) Finally, there is the issue of who should profit from the art, music or literature created by prisoners. This final question only worries shallow vengeful politicians (of which there are many in Australia) who cannot separate the crime from the incarcerated person.

My one criticism of The Torch’s program is its focus on the business of selling art. We all know that there are more reasons to do art is more than business. That it is also therapeutic, educational, recreational, and cultural. And, as all decent people would know, there are some things you don’t sell. (And yes, that last comment was directed at you, Jeff Kennett AC, former Premier of Victoria and Chair of Board, administering The Torch since 2015.)

I understand this is the neo-liberal political and economic situation it is established in and the kind of people who have made it possible. But as a critic, my role is to point out that it is not the only way nor the best way to do it. To look at the big picture, including politics, history, and culture. And, in doing so, recognise the connection between colonialism and neo-classical architecture — classical and neo-classical architecture symbolised colonial, slave-trading empires (Greek, Roman, British or American). The structural irony is that The Torch’s new building is the former Carlton Post Office which has a neo-classical facade.

That said, The Torch’s annual exhibition is the most ethical way to purchase Indigenous art, where 100% of the artwork’s price goes to the artist (simply the best deal any artist could ever get). And with over 400 works by Indigenous people currently in prison or released in recent years in Victoria, there will be plenty of choices.

Confined 13, 2022, Glen Eira City Council Gallery

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The Wild West of Australia

The world has now heard about the destruction of the world’s largest and oldest collection of petroglyphs (rock carvings) by the Woodside Energy Group (previously Woodside Petroleum) thanks to two protesters spraying chalk dust on the perspex cover on Fredrick McCubbin’s 1889 oil painting, Down on his luck, at the Art Gallery of Western Australia in January 2023. Further examination of their actions exposes prejudices about race, law, justice, culture, art’s value, and art galleries.

Western Australia has often been called the wild west, as it has many things in common with westerns. It is a land stolen from Indigenous peoples, ruled by cattle barons and miners.

The destruction of the world’s largest and oldest collection of petroglyphs (rock carvings) by the Woodside Energy Group (previously Woodside Petroleum) started in 2006–2007. Since then, the fossil fuel company has irreparably damaged the rock carvings on the Burrup Peninsula (also known as Murujuga) in WA’s Pilbara region.

The Australian government does not define the destruction of Indigenous art and culture as a crime (unless it is a tradable commodity). Indigenous culture, like the petroglyphs on the Burrup Peninsula (aka Murujuga), are being destroyed on an industrial scale, and even the most egregious incidents, like the damage to the Kuyang stones at Lake Bolac or the destruction of Juukan Gorge, only receive official reprimands or a fine.

However, it is a crime. Australia is an occupied territory with no treaty or other peace settlement with the land’s original inhabitants. Without a treaty, the land is an occupied territory where the ownership of the land is in dispute; therefore, the Geneva Convention applies. The destruction of the property of people whose lands have been occupied is prohibited under Article 53 of the 4th Geneva Convention. The situation is analogous to Russian claims to annex parts of Ukraine, a unilateral declaration that they are now legally part of another country. No, where in the Geneva Convention are occupied people, or their allies, prohibited from destroying the occupiers’ property. This does not give Russia the right to destroy Ukrainian property. Australia is a party to GCI-IV, but Australia’s word is worthless.

The actions of the two protesters, Perth ceramic artist and illustrator Joana Partyka and Ballardong Noongar man Desmond Blurton at the Art Gallery of Western Australia is the best art gallery demonstration yet. A symbolic attack on a symbol of the colonial power to draw attention to the actual crime of destroying the world’s oldest art gallery. Partyka’s damage was symbolic, as was the choice of McCubbin’s painting and the location. The chalk spray, used for marking sports grounds, would not damage the painting—indeed, no damage compared to the actual irreparable damage done to the ancient petroglyphs.

McCubbin’s painting symbolises European colonisation as he depicts European settlers in the Australian landscape. And also because it is a tradable commodity exchangeable for dollars, unlike rock art, which is not tradable because it belongs in its original location.

The Art Gallery of Western Australia is used symbolically by the occupying power, as a token of civilisation, as a venue for state functions, a beautiful decoration for the ugly iconoclasm and state violence.

WA police charged Partyka with one count of criminal damage, nobody has yet charged the so-called Commonwealth of Australian and Woodside Energy with war crimes, but it needs to happen.

No Turning Back: Artworks from The Torch 2018

No Turning Back is a group exhibition Art by Indigenous prisoners and former prisoners at Deakin Downtown Gallery, the one room gallery Deakin University’s elegant space at Collins Square in the Docklands.

Big Kev, Ceremony, 2017

Most of the paintings are about the artist’s country. The fire paintings about burning as land management by Pitjantjatjara artist, Veronica Mungaloon Hudson. Jeffrey Jackson’s paintings that represent Mutti Mutti country around Lake Mungo. Robby Wirramanda painting and ceramics inspired by the Lake Tyrrell salt flats with his hopeful dragonflies trailing after images of dots across the surface of the paintings. Ray Traplin’s large dot painting of a giant snake creating rivers in Kuku Yalanji country.

There are paintings about ceremony. Ceremony by Big Kev, a Ngiyampaa man has so much detail and about his culture. The clarity of information about an exchange ceremony held between Wiradjuri, Barkindji and Wailwan in this one painting is impressive. And Bora Rings (Ceremonial Grounds) by Bradley, a Dja Dja Wurrung/Yorta Yorta man is restrained in its ochre hues but has the intensity and concentration of design that is typical of much prison art where the painting is evidence of time well spent.

Not that Gary Scott’s painting looks out of place for not being about country or ceremony. New Beginnings is about changes in his own life and from all accounts Scott is making a career as an artist in the highly competitive Indigenous arts sector, even selling a couple of paintings to the Victoria Police Academy.

On Thursday morning Kent Morris, The Torch’s CEO and a Barkindji man gave a talk at the exhibition. Weaving his own personal story of finding his identity into the way that The Torch’s program works in helping Indigenous inmates find their identity, reconnect to their culture and earn some money through art. Morris talked about the many challenges for The Torch from getting the law changed so that Indigenous prisoners can sell their art, to giving art criticism to prisoners. If you think that some artist are sensitive (and believe me they can be) then consider the delicate art or giving prisoners art criticism. Having the resilience to work through criticism and failure is necessary for artistic development but it is a very tough thing for someone in prison when the rest of their life isn’t going well.

See my earlier posts for more on The Torch: Confined 9, Confined 8, Yannae Wirrate Weelam and prison art.