INTERWOVEN
BERNDT MUSEUM
AT THE LAWRENCE WILSON ART GALLERY
18 FEBRUARY - 9 APRIL 2016
BERNDT MUSEUM
Noted anthropologists Ronald and Catherine Berndt founded the Berndt Museum in 1976
through the generous gift of a large proportion of their own personal collection. Since then,
through the ongoing support of the University of Western Australia and a large number of
benefactors, the collection has become one of the most important research collections on
Australian Aboriginal art and culture in the world.
INTERWOVEN
Today the collection reflects much of Australia, with a particular focus on South Australia,
the Northern Territory and Western Australia. It also has a substantial collection of
Melanesian and Asian art that formed the original gift from Catherine Berndt. Currently
housed within the Lawrence Wilson Art Gallery, the Berndt Museum presents and
interprets art and culture through exhibitions and is dedicated to advancing and supporting
learning at the University of Western Australia.
Every work presented in this exhibition was chosen by a member of the Berndt Museum
team. In this book they will explain why, out of the tens of thousands of items in the
museum’s collection, their selection spoke loudest. They write of how a cloth can take you
back to your childhood, what grass and paper say about the enduring strength of a people,
and how a mask made for a yam can leave you with questions you’ll never quite answer.
The Berndt Museum is working its way towards developing the Australian Aboriginal
Cultures Museum – UWA to display and house the collection in its entirety. Proudly
supported by the University of Western Australia, the project is currently awaiting
philanthropic support to see it to completion.
Through the intertwining of fibre, feather, paper, string, seed and other materials,
Interwoven brings to life a series of items created by culturally distinctive makers from
Aboriginal Australia, Papua New Guinea and throughout Asia.
Most of all these essays, and the exhibition they were made for, speak of how an object can
connect you with its maker; how you can feel an intimate connection with someone despite
the separation of time, distance and a very different culture.
YINANGARNDUNA BASKET
Suzanne Barron, Conservator
Aboriginal Australians produce some of the most universally renowned fibre works, using
natural resources to produce and construct the daily necessities of shelters, baskets, dilly
bags, fish traps, cradles, weapons and sacred objects.
The process of gathering materials - making an object and putting it to use - can be both
practical and spiritual at the same time. Dilly bags that were collected by anthropologist
Donald Thompson in the 1930s were not dyed, but decorated with the use of ochres, or
surface stitched with plant string. In contemporary settings, constant experimentation with
different plant materials produces a variation of colours.
The basket I chose for this exhibition was one among others displayed at the Fremantle
Arts Centre in 1994 in an exhibition titled High Fibre Diet. Made by Mary Mirdaburrwa from
Yinangarnduna in the Northern Territory, the basket is named Butha after a small island of
the same name. Its colours represent the sand changing colours at different times of the
year, with the dry season as the light colour and the wet as the dark brown.
The basket’s earthy colours and patterned wavy designs immediately drew me in. It was
a real eye-catcher. The woven lines tell a story about the colours of shifting sands that
change with the different tides, low and high. A beautiful story, combined with a beautiful
basket and how and by whom it was made, reminded me also of my own homeland on the
coast of north-west WA.
“The basket’s earthy colours and patterned wavy designs
immediately drew me in. It was a real eye-catcher. The
woven lines tell a story about the colours of shifting sands
that change with the different tides, low and high.”
Mary Mirdaburrwa, Burrarra/Yanangu, Butha, woven pandanus.
Berndt Museum [Acc. No. 07823] © Viscopy 2016
THREADED DJONDJON FIGURES FROM GOULBURN ISLAND
Lily Bennion, Volunteer
The threaded Djondjon figures from Goulburn Island (Warruwi) and Oenpelli (Gunbalanya)
in the Northern Territory embody the spiritual poignancy and resonance of secret
sacred rituals within the Kunwinjku language group. These figures represent a sense of
community that is particularly evident in a respect for the dead and the complex cultural
practices conducted during periods of mourning. When a member of the community
passes away, the camp is often moved and the Djondjons are placed outside the camp
boundaries. Their long arm points in the direction where people have moved to, while
the short arm points toward the mortuary platform on which the body decays. This ritual
reflects a series of grieving practices and illuminates the depth of emotion felt by family
for the deceased.
The reason I was drawn to the Djondjon figures for inclusion in Interwoven is the emphasis
Aboriginal people have placed, and continue to place, on the continuity of life, rather than
its cessation. Such a cyclical philosophy has universal resonance, as most religious beliefs
orientate around the respect for the dead. I both admire and value this perspective, one
that the figurines symbolise. Understanding and empathising with these qualities has
provided a considerable transition point in my life and helped to place everyday challenges
in perspective. The mystery and solemnity of such mourning rituals drew my attention
to the Djondjon figures: the layers of fibre are embedded with meaning, alluding to the
persistence of the memory of those who have passed, alongside hopes and aspirations for
future communities.
“When a member of the community passes away, the camp is often
moved and Djondjons are placed outside the camp boundaries.
Their long arm points in the direction where people have moved
to, while the short arm points toward the mortuary platform on
which the body decays.”
Samuel Manggudja, Kunwinjku, Djondjon, fibre wound over stick supports.
R.M. & C.H. Berndt Collection, Berndt Museum [Acc. No. 00907] © estate of the artist/Licensed by Aboriginal Artists Agency Ltd.
EMPTY VESSELS
Eve Chaloupka, Archivist and Curator
Sharyn Egan’s deeply personal and poignant artwork Empty Vessels was created for
inclusion in Mundaring Art Centre’s 2010 annual exhibition of self-portraiture, Mine Own
Executioner.
This triptych, in the form of three woven baskets using card, photocopied Western Australia
Native Welfare reports, Guildford grass, gum resin and stitching, is a statement about
the artist’s removal from her mother at the age of three to become the third generation
of stolen children in her family. Using copies of her own welfare records bound together
with Guildford grass, Sharyn created three vessels, the largest representing herself,
the smaller vessel representing her mother and the smallest vessel representing her
grandmother.
The gum Sharyn applied to the baskets of her mother and grandmother is from the Balga
(Xanthorrhoea preissii) , with its medicinal properties of significance to the Nyungar people
of the south-west; a people whose languages and cultural practices were denied to them
for generations. In the words of the artist, “The gum gets less … sterile even … as we have
less access to our culture”.
In her artist’s statement, Sharyn recalls the hunger she and other young children
experienced living at the mission, and ‘puddings’ from the Guildford grass they would eat
whenever they could find a patch:
Many of us grew without ever having been hugged or encouraged in anything. We
became empty vessels, out of touch with our feelings. Just surviving and getting
thorough life the best we could manage. We smile, we say yes and no, please and thank
you in the right places.
An artist, curator, teacher, mentor and singer, Sharyn Egan is also a friend and former
Berndt Museum colleague. I chose this particular work of Sharyn’s because it is one that
encapsulates what it is about her grace and artistic practice that inspires me so much,
and I believe it enables a greater understanding of the deeply embedded roots, enduring
strength and dignity of our people.
“This triptych, in the form of three woven baskets using card,
photocopied Western Australia Native Welfare reports, Guildford
grass, gum resin and stitching, is a statement about the artist’s
removal from her mother at the age of three to become the third
generation of stolen children in her family.”
Sharyn Egan, Nyungar, Empty Vessels, 2010, mixed media triptych.
Berndt Museum [Acc. No. 11513] © Sharyn Egan 2016.
TWO FEATHER BASKETS
Moira De Angelis, Administrative Assistant
When asked to choose an artwork for the Interwoven exhibition, I immediately turned to
one of my colleagues and asked if any items in the collection were made with feathers.
I have a passion for feathers; all feathers. I am endlessly drawn to their colour, structure,
delicacy and strength. I collect feathers and they are all through my house. I gift feathers
whenever possible and enjoy the pleasure of combining them with other materials, such
as grasses, twine and silk fabric. So extensive is my enthusiasm, my children - and all who
know me well - will pick up a feather and give it to me with pride.
Many years ago, I attended a women’s weekend weaving workshop in Balingup. There I
learnt about entwining emu feathers with collected grasses to produce spiritually inhabited
baskets. A lovely senior Nyungar woman taught the class. I will always remember the
three days spent wandering the forest, collecting materials, respecting country, and sitting
on the floor with other women making and connecting.
The two sublime baskets I have chosen, by Ivy Hopkins and Jean Riley, were made with the
sharing of knowledge, the teaching of skills, the telling of stories about family, laughter,
passion and the rhythms of cultural life over time. Such qualities are akin to my own Italian
background where a coming together with other women to share and pass on traditional
practices and methods regularly revolves around food and laughter.
These baskets are not only in this exhibition because of my love of feathers: they also
symbolise tangible human connections and unity throughout time and place.
“The two sublime baskets I have chosen, ... were made
with the sharing of knowledge, the teaching of skills, the
telling of stories about family, laughter, passion and the
rhythms of cultural life over time.”
Ivy Hopkins, Pitjantjatjara, 1998, woven emu feathers and red/brown seeds
Berndt Museum [Acc. No. 09535] © Ivy Hopkins/ Licensed by Tjanpi Desert Weavers.
PWOJA JILAMARA AND JILAMARA
Natalie Hewlett, Collection Manager
Cornelia Tipuamantumirri and Janice Murray have used different media to represent
designs indicating who they are and where they are from as artists and Tiwi women.
When we were first discussing weaving as a theme for Interwoven, I was busy preparing
Cornelia’s painting for formal accession into the Berndt Museum’s collection. Cornelia’s
painting reminds me of woven grass fibres, and also conveys dappled light reflecting off
waves on the Arafura Sea - a theme she writes about when describing her artwork and a
quality I admire.
I added Janice’s print because it reveals cross-hatching and woven patterns that are
common to Tiwi design more broadly, including sometimes being incorporated into the
creation of Pukamani funerary poles and ceremonial body paint. Both artworks symbolise
beautiful representations of the mark making that typifies Tiwi artwork.
Cornelia’s painting is made using a pwoja, a wooden comb dipped into ground ochre paste
then pressed on canvas to make the dotted lines, a technique that is also used for making
designs on bodies in preparation for ceremonies.
Janice’s print was completed for a project the Dutch government organised with the
Australian Print Workshop in Melbourne. The event was to commemorate the 400th
anniversary of the Dutch ship Duyfken landing on Australian shores in 1606.
In 2006 ten talented, emerging Aboriginal artists were chosen to contribute a print after
attending a print-making workshop based on First Encounters. Both artworks represent
wonderful expansion of Tiwi art in the Berndt Museum’s collection.
“Both artworks symbolise beautiful representations
of the mark making that typifies Tiwi artwork.”
opposite page above: Cornelia Tipuamantumirri, Tiwi, Pwoja Jilamara, 2007, acrylic and ochres on canvas.
Berndt Museum [Acc. No. 032/2015] ©Licensed by Munupi Arts Centre 2016.
opposite page below: Janice Murray, Tiwi, Jilamara, 2006, ink on paper.
Donated to the Berndt Museum by Wesfarmers Arts [Acc. No. 11061] © Janice Murray/Licensed by Viscopy 2016.
DILLY BAG AND BARK PAINTINGS FROM ARNHEM LAND
Margaret Nadebaum, Volunteer and Berndt Foundation support staffer
These three pieces centre on the woven-pandanus dilly bag and its ubiquity and
significance in the everyday and the spiritual lives of the Aboriginal communities of
Arnhem Land. Its particular appeal lies not only in its aesthetics and functionality, but also
as an exemplar of the extent to which the everyday and the spiritual are inextricably linked
in Australian Aboriginal cultural life.
More than 50 years ago, I was in the first cohort of students (numbering only 15) to
graduate from The University of Western Australia with a major in Anthropology through
the then newly created Department of Anthropology. This new department was headed
by Ronald Berndt himself, and his lectures and tutorials on Australian Aboriginal culture
derived directly from his and Catherine Berndt’s internationally renowned fieldwork.
Together they kindled in me a deep and sustained interest in Aboriginal culture.
Dilly bags were used by women and by men, not only for mundane purposes, but also in
ceremonial domains and rituals. To illustrate this feature I have also chosen two bark
paintings, one depicting domestic activities and the other showing three Mimi spirits as a
dynamic, dancing group.
It can be contextually and aesthetically discerned that the dilly bag is integral to the
spiritual significance of the painting, and that the Mimi spirits draw their power from the
Dreaming.
“Its particular appeal lies not only in its aesthetics and
functionality, but also as an exemplar of the extent to
which the everyday and the spiritual are inextricably
linked in Australian Aboriginal cultural life.”
opposite page above: Namaredge Guymala, Kunwinjku, ochre on bark.
R.M. & C.H. Berndt Collection, Berndt Museum [Acc. No. 00747] © estate of the artist/Licensed by Aboriginal Artists Agency Ltd.
opposite page below: Unknown artist, Yolgnu, twined pandanus with ochres.
R.M. & C.H. Berndt Collection, Berndt Museum [Acc. No. 05810] © Buku-Larrnggay Mulka 2016.
TIMBU AND THE NET BAG
Michael (Smokey) Reynolds, Associate Registrar
The dim light shone across my face and two people stared intently upon me. The lid
was replaced and I was again in darkness. Then, in what seemed only a moment, a face
appeared again with a smile. The smiling man asked me what was I doing in this box to
nowhere, and what places I had come from and travelled through over the last fifty years?
My name is Timbu, and I am a male figure made out of rattan. I will refer to the other man
as Smokey. Smokey suggested that I most likely came from a village in the Mendi Valley in
Papua New Guinea.
My mind has become foggy over many years inside a dark box. I now remember the smell
of smoke filled air, wet moist grass, and cooked pork. Yes, that’s right. My first memory is
of an old man speaking and singing to me a long time ago. The hut enclosure was dimly
lit, just like now, and the air was cool and damp. This old man yelled out to the women
outside the hut, and he passed his shoulder net bag to a younger man sitting next to the
opening at one end of the men’s ritual house. The old man painted my body with coloured
dyes, possibly local ochre from the Mendi Valley region. He spoke sacred power words and
performed a restricted ritual. I cannot fully remember everything but the old man sang and
danced as he painted in the enclosed hut.
The shoulder net bag was passed back into the hut full of cooked sweet potato, boiled
pork, and strips of pig fat. Some of the men rubbed the fat over their bodies and continued
the men’s ritual, while the women, uninitiated boys and young children remained a short
distance away. Time past and the ritual continued; my memory has faded over the years.
Timbuwara is a word that was used in the presence of all members of my family group, but
I can’t remember the family’s name and village in the Mendi Valley region.
My next memory is being carried out of the men’s restricted enclosure on the chest of
the old man. We all danced in the public area outside of the enclosure with the women,
children, and closely related family groups from our valley farming region. The air
was filled with smoke from fires surrounding the hut, and the sun was bright over the
surrounding open grass and forest.
The performance continued and then a young woman handed the old man his shoulder net
bag, and the ritual was completed. I was then given to the young people and placed on the
wet grass not far from the enclosure. Ritual power gifted to me during the ceremony slowly
dissipated, and returned to a place where I can see. I next remember a different looking
man picking up my rattan body and placing it in a bag along with other items, including a
man’s shoulder net bag. I am not sure if this is the same net bag from the ceremony. I later
understood that this man was John Anderson, a collector who later donated me to the
Berndt Museum.
The next memory I have is sitting in a glass box surrounded by strange people. They spoke
a language I did not understand, and they wore long tapa-like cloth around their necks. I
thought to myself, “Who are these people? Where have they come from and what are they
doing here? They are not like us, and what do they know about my art and culture?” I later
understood they were people interested in art forms and material culture from another
world. They came to visit me, in appreciation of my form and texture.
Recently, the smiley man, Smokey, learnt that I am a Timbawara ritual figure. He told me
that he would like to share and show my qualities as part of an exhibition. This might even
result in some more information about the name of my village and the people whom first
created and cared for me some fifty years ago. I am quite excited about the prospect of
being reconnected to my past, to having the warm sunlight shine over my rattan body, and
to rest upon the damp grass. I wonder if my family will come to visit me?
“The old man painted my body with coloured dyes… He spoke
sacred power words and performed a restricted ritual. I cannot
fully remember everything but the old man sang and danced as
he painted in the enclosed hut.”
Unknown artist, Papua New Guinea, woven fibres and dyes.
J. Anderson Collection, Berndt Museum [Acc. No. 00340]
KAIN SONGKET
Siti Sarah Ridhuan, Curatorial Assistant
Kain songket in their various forms are most prominently woven throughout Indonesia
and Malaysia – areas that share significant linguistic and mercantile connections. The
production of this type of textile can also be traced to other parts of South East and South
Asia. Thus, the kain songket embodies a cross-national and intercultural mobility – in
terms of material trade, cultural relations and the commodification of luxury goods –
that can be seen to this day. This is explained poetically in the song ‘Kain Songket’ as
immortalised by the late, great Malay icon Saloma:
Oh abang yang manis
Oh nona yang lawa
Pakailah kain songket
Pakaian budaya
Oh sweet mister
Oh pretty miss
Wear the kain songket
That is your cultural clothing
These lyrics capture what the kain songket means to me. Whether an antique piece in a
museum or as emblematic of contemporary fashion, the various forms of the kain songket
play a vital role in maintaining and reproducing cultural life and identity.
Traditionally a luxury cloth worn by royalty, owning a kain songket is now not uncommon
in many Malay and Indonesian families. Growing up in a Malay-Singaporean family meant
celebrating Hari Raya (Eid) every year, an occasion that saw everyone dressed in traditional
attire that often consisted of kain songket. This versatile garment is also commonly worn
at weddings, where the bride and groom often wear beautiful pieces in matching colours.
Despite the commodification of this textile, it continues to evoke a sense of occasion and
ceremony.
I chose these three pieces from the museum’s collection because I feel they represent
an interweaving of custom, identity, aesthetic practice as well as cultural and material
exchange. At a personal level, the kain songket grounds me in my culture, family and
identity in both its materiality and symbolism.
“...the kain songket embodies a cross-national and intercultural
mobility – in terms of material trade, cultural relations and the
commodification of luxury goods – that can be seen to this day.”
Unknown artist, Lombok, Indonesia, Songket, textile with silver thread.
Gift of Peter Bridge under the Tax Incentive for the Arts Scheme. Berndt Museum [Acc. No. 05165]
THANGKA FROM TIBET
Kelly Rowe, Associate Registrar
When working on rehousing the Berndt Museums collection of thangka (a Tibetan Buddhist
painting on cotton or silk) in 2011, I was intrigued by their intricate construction and
beautiful designs. The use of the brocade frame augmented the significance of the central
painting. While I recognised the iconography as Buddhist, I was unsure whether works in
such a format were still being produced and used today.
I travelled to Nepal last year and visited the Boudhanath Stupa in Boudha, east of
Kathmandu, the holiest Tibetan Buddhist temple outside of Tibet. Surrounding the
stupa are studios where I saw thangka being painted by artists at varying stages in their
apprenticeships. The works were framed on completion with silk brocade for sale to local
and tourist markets. I realised then that both the making and meaning embedded in
thangka continued to have meaning for many Tibetans.
Considering that older thangkas are sold as antiques and kept in museum collections, and
new ones are still being produced, the thangka retains its significance within a religious
context as it has since the 9th century.
For me the thangka highlights traditional weaving techniques in contemporary religious
and ceremonial practices, alongside its purpose for trade to external markets, including
for tourism.
“Considering older thangkas are sold as antiques and kept in
museum collections, and new ones are still being produced, the
thangka retains its significance within a religious context as it
has since the 9th century.”
Unknown artist, Tibet, Thangka, painting on cotton mounted in silk brocade.
R.M. & C.H. Berndt Collection, Berndt Museum [Acc. No. 08652]
WAVE HILL BAGS
Professor Sandy Toussaint, Associate Director (2013-2015)
It is 1960s Melbourne. I am having dinner with my parents and young brother. The Wave
Hill Cattle Station in the Northern Territory is a long way from where my family and I share
food, but we have a strong sense of empathy and an inherited interest in the complexity and
universal value of the human condition. The Gurindji people’s actions enter our conversation.
News of their courageous and considered walk off from Wave Hill has hit the media: the
Gurindji are no longer prepared to work in the pastoral industry for less pay and in poorer
conditions than their non-Indigenous counterparts. Gurindji actions stay in my mind, as does
the equitable nurturing and compassion of my parents.
Many years later in what seems like a lifetime of working for and with Indigenous families,
communities and organisations, I am at the Berndt Museum fielding inquiries about access
to the museum’s collection from a Berndt Foundation Postgraduate Research Award
Recipient, Brenda L. Croft. Ancestral connections tie Brenda to Gurindji Country and family:
she is keenly interested in discovering what objects, archives, audio-visual, maps or other
materials the Berndt Museum collection might hold for loved ones and the local community,
as well as for her doctoral research.
Dedicated staff search the collection’s database while undertaking a myriad of other tasks.
A series of Gurindji-inspired, crayon drawings on paper are eventually identified. Collected
by Catherine and Ronald Berndt in the 1940s at Wave Hill, copies of the drawings are in the
process of being repatriated to families. This process can only be completed once cultural
protocols have been followed; the possible sensitive content of the drawings signals the need
for caution and care via consultation with colleagues and senior community members.
Six hand-made, fibre bags are also found. Beautifully woven, and part of the same 1940s
assemblage collected by the Berndts from Wave Hill. The delicacy and colour, the boldness,
symbolism and the texture of these bags generates a mix of emotion: the 1960s creativity
and resilience of Indigenous people, alongside the remembered generosity and wisdom of
my parents.
All of those involved in the revelation of the drawings are profoundly moved to learn of
the bags’ existence. Colourful images are returned but the bags remain in the care of the
museum, as they require conservation and documentation.
When it comes time to choose a work or series of works for Interwoven, I immediately turn
to the Wave Hill bags. My choice expands when we learn about a recent series of etchings
by Brenda L. Croft, who is also an artist. Based on Brenda’s practice-led doctoral research
with her family and community, the etchings reference objects associated with Jinparrak (Old
Wave Hill Station). The continuity and connectedness of timing is perfect. Through a mix of
conversations and of artworks – bags, weaving, drawings and etchings – cultural beliefs and
practices over time and place are given new life, without ever letting go of the old.
“Beautifully woven, and part of the same 1940s assemblage collected
by the Berndts from Wave Hill, the delicacy and colour, the boldness,
symbolism and the texture of these bags generates a mix of emotion...”
Unknown artist, Gurindji, crochet wool.
C. H. Berndt Collection, Berndt Museum [Acc. No. 05910] Courtesy of the Gurundji community.
YAM MASKS
Kelsey Truscott, Arts Faculty Practicum Placement Student
These beautiful masks come from the Middle Sepik region of Papua New Guinea, and
are put to use during yam trading ceremonies. The ceremonies involve the competitive
exchanging of large yams, with prestige being given to those men who can consistently
grow larger yams than their traditional exchange partner. Two different kinds of yams are
grown here: those for everyday eating and a special kind, grown just for the ceremony,
which can be up to twelve feet in length. The masks represent the spirits of ancestors and
are not worn by the men, but adorn the yams themselves, giving them an almost human
appearance.
The masks feature large, bulbous eyes that are usually separated by a crest, giving
the look of a bird or lizard-like being, and this is the feature that immediately drew my
attention. Combined with the earth toned colours, distinct shaping, and rough, woven
textures, these masks were unlike anything I had seen before. They are made individually
for each yam and they gain their own individual personality through the differences in their
construction.
The unique design of each of these masks allows for a beautiful charm to come through
in every one. The differences, to me, are what are most interesting about these items.
I wonder what process goes into the design of each mask? What thoughts are behind
creating a long, skinny mask, as opposed to a short round one? Why should one mask be
coloured red and another yellow? Or, is it all down to the whimsy of the creator?
The first time I saw these masks I thought of how interesting they were to look at. However,
like so many things in life, the more I look at them, the more questions I have about their
stories and meanings.
“The ceremonies involve the competitive exchanging of
large yams, with prestige being given to those men who
can consistently grow larger yams than their traditional
exchange partner.”
Unknown artist, Papua New Guinea, woven fibres and dyes.
R.M. & C.H. Berndt Collection, Berndt Museum [Acc. No. 02591]
BIKE AND RIDER
Vanessa Wiggin, Associate Registrar
I love the extra dimension of fibreworks – their scent.
Much of my work is confined to windowless museum stores. The scent of a fibrework
is a reminder of the natural world outside. That this work takes the form of a bike is
appropriate, as the smell of dried grass takes me on a journey to other times and places.
It is the smell of the much-envied woven pandanus mat in my former director’s office at
the National Museum in Palau – a delight to walk on, as we wore no shoes. It is the smell
of opening a box to discover one of my favourite artworks – Baby, a grass fibre sculpture
by Joyce Winsley at the Art Gallery of Western Australia – a reminder of my early days in
Perth. Or perhaps, much earlier, building forts from the drying mown grass on my primary
school oval.
The bike is also evocative of the colour and fearlessness of childhood. The child is
completely in the moment – literally one with the bike. I am reminded of my son as a
toddler, running into the ocean without a moment of hesitation; no thought of cold or
danger that would inevitably slow an adult. That night I dreamt that it was me running into
the glassy water. I did not stop. A delicious moment of freedom.
“The bike is also evocative of the colour and fearlessness of
childhood. The child is completely in the moment – literally one
with the bike. I am reminded of my son as a toddler, running
into the ocean without a moment of hesitation...”
Dallas Smythe, Ngaanyatjara, Bike and Rider, 2013, mixed media.
Berndt Museum [Acc. No. 12946] © Dallas Smythe/ Licensed by Tjanpi Desert Weavers.
THAI MINIATURES
Vanessa Wiggin, Associate Registrar
These were simply too cute! I could not resist the opportunity to display our smallest fish
traps below our largest fish trap, for the first and (probably) only time.
What is it about miniatures that draw the eye? They speak of a certain whimsy in human
nature; the luxury of perfecting something for its own sake, rather than utility. Perhaps
they offer a view of a perfect and controllable tiny world.
I have written ‘controllable’, but these items are really as slippery as the tiny fish they will
never contain. Their story is elusive. I enjoy the research aspect of museum work and pride
myself on my ability to chase down obscure information. Of course I hit plenty of brick
walls too.
The Berndt Museum’s Curatorial Assistant, Sarah, hands me a tower of files as my
penance for choosing several objects. I make some room among the general clutter on my
desk. Surely these files are too big and awkward to relate to these delicate works? Each
contains the same thing, which is almost nothing.
All we do know is that the miniatures were once owned by Ronald Berndt. They were sent
to him in a brown paper wrapped package from Thailand by his former students Srisakra
Vallibhotama and Rote Sodesiri. A note indicates that the miniatures were made by ‘Valli
and Sode’. I wonder whether this is true – such items could easily have been bought at a
tourist market.
Sodesiri published a book in 1972 which is still cited in other publications. There is an
eerie silence after that. Vallibhotama has forged a distinguished, if controversial, career
as an anthropologist and archaeologist. He has spent much time with local communities,
striving to understand their prehistoric origins. He is a strong supporter of traditional
crafts, and has sought to empower people by reconnecting them with their cultural roots.
He is still an active man, and it is not too difficult to imagine him taking up the challenge of
learning miniature bamboo work in his younger years. Maybe the gift is saying that only by
doing, can we truly understand and appreciate.
I could email Vallibhotama to ask about the origin of the miniatures. But not yet. I am
enjoying the mystery.
“...these items are really as slippery as the tiny fish they
will never contain. Their story is elusive.”
Attributed to Srisakra Vallibhotama and Rote Sodesiri, Thailand, Miniatures, c. 1968 – 1970, woven bamboo.
R.M. & C.H. Berndt Collection, Berndt Museum [Acc. No. Acc. No. 11620, 11625, 11628, 11644, 11648, 11652].
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
COMING UP AT THE BERNDT MUSEUM
The Berndt Museum team were extremely privileged to have worked on co-curating this
exhibition of beautiful and diverse material from the museum’s extensive collection. This
collaborative effort drew upon each member’s unique knowledge and skill sets, making
the curatorial process a creative and enjoyable experience. We would like to thank Lily
Bennion, Suzie Barron, Margaret Nadebaum and Kelsey Truscott, our dedicated team
of volunteer curators, who have contributed in choosing items for display and writing
the accompanying essays. Their individual insights and qualities have been invaluable in
creating an exhibition that reflects the diverse yet interconnected nature of the items on
display.
Mowaljarlai Vision and Voice
23 April - 9 July 2016
Honouring the life and legacy of lawman, philosopher, artist, activist, storyteller, bush
professor, and statesman, David Mowaljarlai. Through sound and images, this exhibition
will introduce audiences to Mowaljarlai’s gift to the world – his extraordinary commitment
to communicating with the younger generation and cross-culturally through working
partnerships, complex knowledge systems imbued with wisdom, transmitted through eons
past, into the future.
The Berndt Museum would also like to acknowledge the generous support provided by the
following art centres: Buku-Larrnggay Mulka Art Centre, Maningrida Arts and Culture,
Tjanpi Desert Weavers, Munupi Aboriginal Arts and Crafts Association and Jilamara Arts
and Crafts Association. Their assistance in ensuring that we gave due acknowledgement
to the artists whose works are showcased in this exhibition is greatly appreciated. In
addition to this, we would like to recognise artists Sharyn Egan and Brenda Croft for
giving their personal support and permission to exhibit their artworks. Brenda Croft’s
close consultation work with the Gurindji community has also been instrumental in the
curatorial process.
Saltwater Mapping
8 October to 10 December 2016
Timed to coincide with the 400th anniversary of Dirk Hartog’s landing in Western Australia,
this exhibition considers how two very different but both ocean-orientated peoples –
Hartog’s newly arrived Dutch and the Aboriginal peoples who have inhabited the western
coast for tens of thousands of years - mapped and memorised the sky, sea and land.
Includes art and artefacts from the Kerry Stokes Collection.
The installation of Interwoven could have only been possible in the capable hands of
Anthony Kelly, Lyle Branson and their dedicated install team - thanks, for all your hard
work and effort. Continuing support and interest from the UWA Museums staff members,
especially Clare McFarlane, John McCarten, Caine Chennatt and Janice Lally, has
allowed for the development and progression of this exhibition. Patricia Moncrieff’s textile
conservation work has also been significant to this exhibition. Finally, the efforts of our
former Associate Director, Professor Sandy Toussaint, in the initial conceptualisation
of this exhibition must be acknowledged. Thank you Sandy for recognising each of our
individual capabilities and allowing for the amazing opportunity to collaboratively curate
this show.
The Berndt Museum team, 2016
Published by the Berndt Museum at the University of Western Australia, 2016
All rights reserved.
ISBN 978 1 876793 73 9
Cover image: Anchor Gulunbu / Kalunba, Kuninjku, Arnhem region, Mandjabu, 1979, woven jungle vine (milil).
Berndt Museum [Acc. No. 04378]
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