ESSAY: 2019.170a-c BENNETT
In his lifetime, Gordon Bennett was widely regarded as one of Queensland’s, and indeed one of Australia’s most perceptive and inventive contemporary artists. After exhibitions at Brisbane’s Bellas Gallery and Sydney’s Museum of Contemporary Art in the late 1980s, Bennett was promptly included in major national events such as ‘Perspecta’ at the AGNSW in 1989, and in 1990 the Moët & Chandon Touring Exhibition, the ‘Adelaide Biennial of Australian Art’, AGSA and the landmark ‘Balance 1990: Views, Visions, Influences’ at QAG. Given the difficult nature of his primary subject matter - that being the overlooked and unresolved crimes of Australia’s colonial period, and the persistent racism that has followed into the present - Bennett’s early and sustained success is testament to the intellectual and aesthetic relevance of his practice and the authenticity of his expression.
Bloodlines 1993 is an early triptych that relates to Bennett’s somewhat underrepresented ‘welt’ series of paintings — underrepresented both within the Collection, which holds only this work from the group, and in critical discussions of his practice. Bennett embarked on this body of work in France in the December of 1991 during the 12-month travel scholarship he was awarded as part of winning the Moët & Chandon Prize that same year.(1) At this time Bennett frequently referenced the ‘drip technique’ of American abstract expressionist painter Jackson Pollock, using it to invoke a tangled web of history in which Aboriginal figures were caught, or trapped. More than a compositional device and clever art reference, Bennett used the visual matrix of these netted drips to represent the narrative of destiny and sense of entitlement that cast Western colonial expansion across the globe. This same narrative also served to frame the First Nations people they encountered as primitive, in a state of Nature, which by extension served to rationalise that their lands were empty and ripe for ‘civilisation’.(2)
Key Collection work Untitled 1991 (Acc. 1992.160) by Bennett provides an excellent example of his appropriation of Pollock. Brown lashes of paint are surrounded by a field of black and white dots that depict a colonial sailing ship braving a storm. In the lower half of this field, seven decapitated Aboriginal heads in red strike a pattern that is reminiscent of the composition used in The Raft of the Medusa 1818–19 by French Romantic painter Théodore Géricault. Géricault’s original memorialises, if not sensationalises, a tragic group of withered survivors from the shipwreck of the French naval frigate Méduse. Crucially, however, whereas Géricault’s original subjects float on rough seas, Bennett’s seem bound to the turbulent field itself, unable to resist with the waves of Western culture that engulf them.
Bennett’s scenario incorporates his view that Pollock was an inheritor and beneficiary of the colonial mindset - primarily for his heavy debt to the otherwise marginalised Navaho sandpainting tradition. Though he was most likely sincere in his intentions, neither Pollock or his promoters questioned the prejudiced binary perspective of the civilised white innovator channelling the raw and primitive forms of an unsophisticated other.(3)
Exploring Pollock from another angle, in the ‘welt’ works Bennet buried his drips under a uniform dark monochrome paint-skin. As Bennet explains in reference to the first such example, ‘This created a surface which looked remarkably like an illustration of the scarified back of an African slave I later saw reproduced in a book about the representation of Blacks in the nineteenth century; the title of the triptych was A Typical Negro, 1863’.(4) This famous image of a ‘scourged back’ was circulated as a photographic carte de visite, and further popularised as an engraving in Harper’s Weekly.(5) Its subject, known as Gordon or Whipped Peter (suggesting his name was Peter Gordon), was an escaped African American man who had been enslaved on a plantation in Louisiana that was run by a brutal overseer. The image is historically significant not simply for the horror it documents, but also for its influence on public opinion toward slavery. The high circulation of Harper’s Weekly meant that the image had significant enough exposure to become a rallying point for the Northern states of the United States to intervene in those of the South. Bennett remarked:
‘With the “welt” pieces I wanted to convey the wounding of the human spirit, its scarification; the overpainted Modernist trace of a Pollock skein as metaphor for the scar as trace, and memory, of a colonial lash… It may be argued that in taking this position I am portraying black people as victims. This was indeed my intention and I wanted not only to “play the victim” but to take it further and use that energy to advantage by not resisting, or trying to display strength, but to show pain and how much it hurts, even to the extent of self-mutilation.’(6)
While the monochrome overpainting in Bloodlines clearly references the skin of people of colour and the history of violence directed toward them in the patterns of scarring, there is also an art historical precedent in the Russian avant-garde artist Kazmir Malevich and his black square paintings. Malevich’s gesture was a long running preoccupation for Bennett as he explains: ‘Malevich was most certainly trying to get beyond medieval denominational religious confines of such [Russian] icons to a kind of spiritual “essence” that was common to all humanity. I certainly have no quarrel with that, and I admire Malevich very much, but it is clear that in reality black and indigenous peoples, as people considered ahistorical — trampled, enslaved, exploited and discarded, their lands confiscated and wealth plundered over five hundred years of colonialism — were not to be joining Europeans on their great journey to that glorious sunset and spiritual culmination waiting for humanity just over the horizon line.’(7)
Yet Bennett’s monochrome fields weren’t simply painted over but also cut into, revealing a blood-red wound. This visually stronger allusion to the body locates the violence inflicted in the present as much as the past. It also heightens the consideration of inheritable aspects of such vicious, sustained violence as widespread trauma. While the scale of Bloodlines and these cuts is enormous and engulfing, the near symmetry of their patterns recalls the lines found in the palms. In fact close associates of the artist have suggested that these markings are based on the Bennett’s own palms. This too suggests violence as something carried and inherited, and perhaps the desperate and dramatic expression of staring at one’s empty hands. On this, Bennett stated, ‘In this [gesture] I am drawing on Aboriginal funeral ceremonies in which ritualised public displays of grief and mourning can involve bloodletting and cutting one’s own body’ — though notably he also cited the precedent of painter Lucio Fontana and his cut canvases of Argentine-Italian.(8)
The narrow centre panel of Bloodlines, composed of a cluster of red stained and purposefully knotted ropes, conjures the visceral image of looping veins. A more literal interpretation, however, would be a field of hanging nooses. Vigilante justice in the form of hangings was particularly present in the frontier territories of the United States. In Australia, however, massacres or ‘dispersals’ were generally carried out with gunfire.(9) This ambiguity might suggest that Bennett was making a more contemporary and local reference to Aboriginal deaths in custody. Hanging deaths of Aboriginal people in custody were shockingly common in Australia during the 1980s, and were a key statistic in the call for a Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody report, which was commissioned by the Hawke Government in 1987.
It is conceivable that the use of symmetry was also intended to recall a flayed figure, and perhaps the crucifixion of Jesus. Although oblique, the notion is reinforced by the use of the triptych format, which arose from early Christian art and the tradition of three panel folding altar paintings. Similarly, the title ‘Bloodlines’ might evoke the history of the stolen generations, and specifically the impact of eugenics and assimilationist policies that allowed the destruction of families and erosion of tradition by asserting that Aboriginal parents had no right to their children and could be taken by the government without cause. Furthermore, the memory of pernicious public discussions of the implications of mixed blood, and alienating follow-on questions of who can reasonably claim an authentic Aboriginal heritage — or, inversely who might be able or allowed to pass for being white — on a measure of appearance or ancestral percentages would also appear to provide relevant historical context to Bennett’s powerful gesture.
Constructed by drawing on a wide variety of potent historical sources, Bennett’s extraordinarily searching and intellectually supple work ‘Bloodlines’ seeks to better acknowledge the largely ‘hidden’ or ignored history of colonial violence in Australia - and its continuing burden on the present. Crucially, Bennett has taken great pains to include the frame of the binary mainstream narratives of black/white, primitive/civilised in his picture — and to include the consequences of this thinking on those people who are rendered less than. Sombre and even grotesque, Bloodlines attempts to shock a broad audience into an empathetic state — and ‘jolt’ them into perceiving the notion of ‘peaceful settlement’ as a myth.(10)
Material prepared by: Peter McKay, Curatorial Manager, Australian Art, November 2019
Endnotes
Bloodlines 1993 is an early triptych that relates to Bennett’s somewhat underrepresented ‘welt’ series of paintings — underrepresented both within the Collection, which holds only this work from the group, and in critical discussions of his practice. Bennett embarked on this body of work in France in the December of 1991 during the 12-month travel scholarship he was awarded as part of winning the Moët & Chandon Prize that same year.(1) At this time Bennett frequently referenced the ‘drip technique’ of American abstract expressionist painter Jackson Pollock, using it to invoke a tangled web of history in which Aboriginal figures were caught, or trapped. More than a compositional device and clever art reference, Bennett used the visual matrix of these netted drips to represent the narrative of destiny and sense of entitlement that cast Western colonial expansion across the globe. This same narrative also served to frame the First Nations people they encountered as primitive, in a state of Nature, which by extension served to rationalise that their lands were empty and ripe for ‘civilisation’.(2)
Key Collection work Untitled 1991 (Acc. 1992.160) by Bennett provides an excellent example of his appropriation of Pollock. Brown lashes of paint are surrounded by a field of black and white dots that depict a colonial sailing ship braving a storm. In the lower half of this field, seven decapitated Aboriginal heads in red strike a pattern that is reminiscent of the composition used in The Raft of the Medusa 1818–19 by French Romantic painter Théodore Géricault. Géricault’s original memorialises, if not sensationalises, a tragic group of withered survivors from the shipwreck of the French naval frigate Méduse. Crucially, however, whereas Géricault’s original subjects float on rough seas, Bennett’s seem bound to the turbulent field itself, unable to resist with the waves of Western culture that engulf them.
Bennett’s scenario incorporates his view that Pollock was an inheritor and beneficiary of the colonial mindset - primarily for his heavy debt to the otherwise marginalised Navaho sandpainting tradition. Though he was most likely sincere in his intentions, neither Pollock or his promoters questioned the prejudiced binary perspective of the civilised white innovator channelling the raw and primitive forms of an unsophisticated other.(3)
Exploring Pollock from another angle, in the ‘welt’ works Bennet buried his drips under a uniform dark monochrome paint-skin. As Bennet explains in reference to the first such example, ‘This created a surface which looked remarkably like an illustration of the scarified back of an African slave I later saw reproduced in a book about the representation of Blacks in the nineteenth century; the title of the triptych was A Typical Negro, 1863’.(4) This famous image of a ‘scourged back’ was circulated as a photographic carte de visite, and further popularised as an engraving in Harper’s Weekly.(5) Its subject, known as Gordon or Whipped Peter (suggesting his name was Peter Gordon), was an escaped African American man who had been enslaved on a plantation in Louisiana that was run by a brutal overseer. The image is historically significant not simply for the horror it documents, but also for its influence on public opinion toward slavery. The high circulation of Harper’s Weekly meant that the image had significant enough exposure to become a rallying point for the Northern states of the United States to intervene in those of the South. Bennett remarked:
‘With the “welt” pieces I wanted to convey the wounding of the human spirit, its scarification; the overpainted Modernist trace of a Pollock skein as metaphor for the scar as trace, and memory, of a colonial lash… It may be argued that in taking this position I am portraying black people as victims. This was indeed my intention and I wanted not only to “play the victim” but to take it further and use that energy to advantage by not resisting, or trying to display strength, but to show pain and how much it hurts, even to the extent of self-mutilation.’(6)
While the monochrome overpainting in Bloodlines clearly references the skin of people of colour and the history of violence directed toward them in the patterns of scarring, there is also an art historical precedent in the Russian avant-garde artist Kazmir Malevich and his black square paintings. Malevich’s gesture was a long running preoccupation for Bennett as he explains: ‘Malevich was most certainly trying to get beyond medieval denominational religious confines of such [Russian] icons to a kind of spiritual “essence” that was common to all humanity. I certainly have no quarrel with that, and I admire Malevich very much, but it is clear that in reality black and indigenous peoples, as people considered ahistorical — trampled, enslaved, exploited and discarded, their lands confiscated and wealth plundered over five hundred years of colonialism — were not to be joining Europeans on their great journey to that glorious sunset and spiritual culmination waiting for humanity just over the horizon line.’(7)
Yet Bennett’s monochrome fields weren’t simply painted over but also cut into, revealing a blood-red wound. This visually stronger allusion to the body locates the violence inflicted in the present as much as the past. It also heightens the consideration of inheritable aspects of such vicious, sustained violence as widespread trauma. While the scale of Bloodlines and these cuts is enormous and engulfing, the near symmetry of their patterns recalls the lines found in the palms. In fact close associates of the artist have suggested that these markings are based on the Bennett’s own palms. This too suggests violence as something carried and inherited, and perhaps the desperate and dramatic expression of staring at one’s empty hands. On this, Bennett stated, ‘In this [gesture] I am drawing on Aboriginal funeral ceremonies in which ritualised public displays of grief and mourning can involve bloodletting and cutting one’s own body’ — though notably he also cited the precedent of painter Lucio Fontana and his cut canvases of Argentine-Italian.(8)
The narrow centre panel of Bloodlines, composed of a cluster of red stained and purposefully knotted ropes, conjures the visceral image of looping veins. A more literal interpretation, however, would be a field of hanging nooses. Vigilante justice in the form of hangings was particularly present in the frontier territories of the United States. In Australia, however, massacres or ‘dispersals’ were generally carried out with gunfire.(9) This ambiguity might suggest that Bennett was making a more contemporary and local reference to Aboriginal deaths in custody. Hanging deaths of Aboriginal people in custody were shockingly common in Australia during the 1980s, and were a key statistic in the call for a Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody report, which was commissioned by the Hawke Government in 1987.
It is conceivable that the use of symmetry was also intended to recall a flayed figure, and perhaps the crucifixion of Jesus. Although oblique, the notion is reinforced by the use of the triptych format, which arose from early Christian art and the tradition of three panel folding altar paintings. Similarly, the title ‘Bloodlines’ might evoke the history of the stolen generations, and specifically the impact of eugenics and assimilationist policies that allowed the destruction of families and erosion of tradition by asserting that Aboriginal parents had no right to their children and could be taken by the government without cause. Furthermore, the memory of pernicious public discussions of the implications of mixed blood, and alienating follow-on questions of who can reasonably claim an authentic Aboriginal heritage — or, inversely who might be able or allowed to pass for being white — on a measure of appearance or ancestral percentages would also appear to provide relevant historical context to Bennett’s powerful gesture.
Constructed by drawing on a wide variety of potent historical sources, Bennett’s extraordinarily searching and intellectually supple work ‘Bloodlines’ seeks to better acknowledge the largely ‘hidden’ or ignored history of colonial violence in Australia - and its continuing burden on the present. Crucially, Bennett has taken great pains to include the frame of the binary mainstream narratives of black/white, primitive/civilised in his picture — and to include the consequences of this thinking on those people who are rendered less than. Sombre and even grotesque, Bloodlines attempts to shock a broad audience into an empathetic state — and ‘jolt’ them into perceiving the notion of ‘peaceful settlement’ as a myth.(10)
Material prepared by: Peter McKay, Curatorial Manager, Australian Art, November 2019
Endnotes
- Gordon Bennett, ‘The Manifest Toe’, in McLean, Ian and Bennett, Gordon, The Art of Gordon Bennett, Craftsman House, Sydney, 1996, p.48.
- ibid., pp.44-47.
- ibid.
- ibid., p.48.
- ‘A Typical Negro’, Harper’s Weekly, Harper & Brothers., New York, 4 July 1863, p.429.
- ibid., p.50.
- ibid.
- ibid.
- Lorena Allam and Nick Evershed, ‘The killing times: the massacres of Aboriginal people Australia must confront’, The Guardian, 4 March 2019. https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2019/mar/04/the-killing-times-the-massacres-of-aboriginal-people-australia-must-confront
- Bennett, ibid., p.53.
Connected objects
Bloodlines 1993
- BENNETT, Gordon - Creator