CSAsculpture@stkildabotanicalgardens

February 2001
{Amber O'Shea & Roselyne Nayna}

In St Kilda’s botanic garden, human hands have seeded more than just exotic plant life. On display during the month of February were sixteen works of sculpture, curated by Sue Boucher and Therese Kearney of the Contemporary Sculptors Association. For four weeks garden lovers and art enthusiasts alike were able to view this impressive exhibition.

Since early Europe, works of art have been displayed in public recreational spaces.Yet it is only in modern times that artists have begun to create works that respond to the environment in which the art is placed. Art historian Ken Scarlett (1998) asked sculptors to consider "To what extent can human beings live with nature or must nature always be destroyed in the process of living? Artists have to decide whether they wish to work in concurrence with nature or make a statement that is in contrast with the environment...(gardens) are not examples of nature untouched but nature controlled, ordered and designed to human pattern".

The botanic garden is established in an attempt to conserve nature for generations to come. It could be argued that in creating a botanic garden man becomes God, in that he creates a mini replica of the world in all its glory, an Eden decadent in its aesthetic. It is a constructed world, where even decay is masked with beauty and death is averted. In the city the botanic garden is an oasis rooted in a bed of concrete; an ode to a paradise lost. It is a place for dreams, for solitude, for play: a sanctuary. It is a collective backyard, and like home, it is where the heart is. The garden is something born from us, as is art. It is the inside brought out.

Transforming the ordinary, mundane or domestic into art can be a potent act. By drawing from everyday items, old clothing, mops, tangled sheets, cooked sugar, the audience is able to move around the domain of the artist. A home where white rags become props for an opera, and pools of toffee are rich with meaning. Within this exhibition domesticity emerges as an unintentional theme.

The history of women’s art is one of concealment. It is a secretive art that draws on found objects and domestic materials, and is created in back rooms or kitchens. In the work Colonising Trails (2001) Annee Miron re-appropriates humble toffee and converts it into art, at the same time imbuing it with meaning. Puddles of toffee collect around the foot of a tree. The four holes dug into the ground signify the knees and turned toes of a person in the act of prayer. Miron uses the glossy sugar to connect the home with the transcendental. Similarly, Jennifer Bartholomew utilises domestic materials to create art. Wheat bags, felt and muslin are draped around the waists and crutches of trees. With humour Bartholomew draws attention to the traditional feminine issues of modesty and concealed sexuality.

The domestic space is intimate. An internal space that contains secrets, memories, sorrows and hopes. But, as Gaston Bachelard suggests in The Poetics of Space (1994), inside and outside are interfluent. Tamsin Salehian’s cement house Untitled (1999) is a metaphor for the self. The intense emotion harboured within explodes, forcing the curtains outward. In Sue Boucher’s work, Fright and Flight (2001) colour, like smell, provokes memory. Red streams of fabric inhabit the space with the intensity of a blush exposed. Therese Kearney, in her installation I Never Promised You a Rose Garden (2001) has created a carpet of rose petals that is bitter sweet in its sentiment. In experiencing the pleasure of its lingering perfume one is reminded of beauty past.

‘Nature’ and ‘earth’ is often referred to in association with ‘mother’ and have long been metaphors for life and fertility. Anne Scambury explores the code to all plant and animal life, DNA, in her work, Kit2 (2001). Like the garden, it is a link to the past and the future. Vaisa (1999) by Faustas Sadauskas examines the function of the female reproductive tract and its role in propagating life to ensure our collective immortality. Some works become an active part of the life cycle. Maternal identity melts into honey and wax, and is carried away by insects in Elizabeth Presa’s work The Book of Refused Words (2001).

Many of the artists involved in the exhibition have created works that mimic and utilise the environment in which they are placed. Julie Collins’s elegant and beautifully constructed piece Bloom (2001) is made up of aluminum and steel arcs rising from a fountain. The pieces, like solidified splashes, mime the grace of their watery environment. Interestingly the water birds have adopted these textured spirals. Ducks and seagulls sit proudly in their curves, adding life to art. While Liz Henderson’s collection of delicate wax and crystal bead spider nests in Lobster Pots and Silk Purses (2001) nestle in the arms of a tree.

The work of certain artists is emphasised by the surrounding environment. Brigit Heller’s piece Tomorrow is Yesterday (2001) is located near a hedge. The jagged wires of the work are accentuated when juxtaposed near the coarse hedge top. While John Marshall’s Artificial Lawn (2001) made with wire mesh and silicon, draws attention to the texture and tactile quality of a sprawling lawn. Michael Walsh also builds an artificial garden in his work Foreign Gardens (2001). His gravel and steel piece is inspired by the Japanese Zen Garden. He describes the work as "...a garden for the mind". Philip Cappadona makes a powerful environmental statement with his work Untitled (2001), in which two wilting trees are potted in a block of concrete. Further, Lego (2000) by Damien Cravino investigates public ownership of urban space. While his work invites human interaction through constructive play, it alienates nature. In this case, nature has revolted. Birds and the elements have damaged the work, confirming that, while our impact on the world is profound, nature does prevail.

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