Tim Craker

Tim Craker
pail_studio
Tim Craker in his studio room at Hotel Penaga, Penang, with ‘Beyond the Pail’.

Australian artist Tim Craker undertook a 3-month residency at Rimbun Dahan in 2006. In July 2011, he returned to Malaysia to take up the first artist’s residency at Hotel Penaga in George Town, Penang. During the residency he created the installation sculpture Beyond the Pail, now on display in front of the main hotel entrance.

Beyond the Pail, plastic buckets & cable ties, ca. 160cm diameter, 2011.

Artist’s statement:

Beyond the Pail is an assemblage of twelve ten-gallon yellow translucent plastic buckets, suspended in space and able to rotate about its vertical axis. The works’s construction is based on the dodecahedron, one of the five Platonic solids, each side of which is a pentagon.

The work stems from a fascination with both the everyday object, released from its usual purpose, and the possibilities of combination that it may offer. The bucket, in this case, is no longer a functional object, but becomes an element of a larger construction that refers to the basic geometry of the natural world – the underlying patterns that are both decorative and seminal – the perfection of which is alleviated by the random positioning of the buckets’ handles.

Suspended and rotating gently in passing breezes, Beyond the Pail provides gentle subversion of quotidian functionality, while making visual reference to – amongst other things – viral particles, Buckminster-Fuller’s geodesic domes (a local example of which is situated adjacent to the Komtar tower here in Georgetown), pollen grains and spaceships.

Beyond the pail, certainly! Beyond the pale, I hope not.

Tim Craker
July 2011

In 2008, Tim’s joint exhibition dot-net-dot-au (with Louise Saxton) toured to Malaysia and Singapore, including works he had conceived at Rimbun Dahan.

Artists’ Statement from the Travelling Exhibition dot-net-dot-au, 2008

In 2006 I was very fortunate to spend three months in Malaysia as a full-time artist. The residency – at Rimbun Dahan, a private estate on the outskirts of Kuala Lumpur – was a fantastic and intense period of sensory stimulation, reflection, artistic exploration and creative production, in a luxurious and supportive environment. This series of work stems from that time.

My overwhelming impression of Malaysia – gathered from many previous visits, as well as my residency – was primarily pattern, both natural and man-made. From the tiling of Kuala Lumpur pavements to the lattice of tropical vegetation against the sky, my eye was taken by the prevalence and variety of pattern – botanical, Islamic and industrial.

Pattern is by definition repeated units, and a pattern is discerned through identification of these units, their repetition and interrelationship. Patterns can be merely decorative – children make patterns with seashells at the beach, for example – but we also talk of seeing a pattern, when we discern a connection between disparate objects or events, which hints at a meaning behind them.

One stimulus for the work is a fascination with pattern and how it “works”; another is the excitement of generating substantial pieces from myriad small, unregarded and everyday objects and things.

Several months ago I read in one of the weekend newspaper magazines a regular article about someone’s “favourite things”. This particular week one of the objects was a small length of an enormously long daisy chain, made as an entry in a sculpture competition by the person’s nine-year-old daughter, Lola. Part of Lola’s artist’s statement was: “I like daisy chains because you start with something little and end with something big.” I tore the page out, took it to my studio and stuck Lola’s quotation in my journal.

The materials themselves – objects by which we are surrounded but of which we rarely take notice – are also a stimulus, coupled with a desire to transform or release them from their expected role.
What if a plastic spoon is released from mere function and becomes part of a huge cargo net, screen or trap, for example? A single disposable plastic cup is just a plastic cup; hundreds of cups tied together become something else altogether, and many things at the same time. Dull practicality cedes to other ways of using objects, subverting or ignoring their actual purpose – less serious, unpredictable, more interesting….

though_pattern

Above: detail of ‘Thought Pattern’, plastic chinese soup spoons, nylon thread. 250 x 400cm. 2007

Plastic disposable materials have been chosen not only for their “transformative potential”, but because they are cheap (nine hundred plastic cups are still affordable, for example!), readily available, light, durable and easily worked. Safety fencing is also a cheap and abundant material – what excitement to buy fifty metres of it! The materials one uses carry a whole set of meanings, though, which are part – even if on a subconscious level – of why they are chosen and the meanings the work may suggest.

In Malaysia during my 2006 residency, I was invited to be part of an exhibition entitled “Feed Me!”. The curatorial theme was an exploration of food and its cultural and social significance. I thought of the role that a common interest in food – recipes, ritual, preparation, eating – has played (and continues to play) in the successful meeting of my family with my Malaysian partner and his family. I considered, on a broader scale, the importance of food – in all its various manifestations – in intercultural relations. Food is sustenance, embodies tradition, and demonstrates familial love and care. It also epitomises cultural difference – while offering the means of transcending it…

Food utensils have been objects and subjects I have often returned to – I realise, in retrospect – in my work. Aside from the tactile attractions of the immediately-recognisable and particular shapes, maybe what I return to is the symbolic representation of order, of ritual, of “civilised” ingestion, of the set table, of sitting down to dinner and conversations over a meal – and what that might stand against.

The materials are plastic and non-degradable – symptomatic of a throw-away society. They have little aesthetic value – their design criteria value low cost first, then functionality. They are disposable and “single-use”, yet fill kitchen cupboards, builders’ skips and landfill everywhere. They are the products of a petrochemical industry itself responsible for vast environmental damage – in accessing raw materials, in the by- products of manufacture and in the consumption of the end-product hydrocarbon fuels.

In a gentle subversion of the dictates of hyper-consumerism, the worthless, “unfriendly” and disposable is assembled in these works on a monumental scale, and invested with new aesthetic worth: the mundane is transformed, the banal subverted. Myriad units are assembled together; grids are formed piece by piece according to certain rules; lattices of both two and three dimensions are captured or created. The construction process becomes meditative – repeated actions of drilling, placing, threading, knotting or trimming are performed, but create an unpredicted and organic result, a molecular array, a crystalline lattice. The grid is also approached from the opposite direction: units of a “found” plastic lattice are selectively deleted to reveal a leaf shape in outline, a botanical silhouette – the plastic scoop removes the fallen leaf from the swimming pool. The contrast between medium and message is between the un-aesthetic, unregarded industrial fencing, used for protection, exclusion and visibility, and the living natural biodegradable leaf, between one pattern and another, between design and evolution. Offcuts, like dead leaves, fall below the screens.

What information might a pattern contain, and how is it encoded?

Does the botanical information always lie within the plastic screen?

Is the screen something we see through, or something that prevents our access?

Patterns are perfect, geometric and regular. More fascinating, however, is the disruption of the pattern: the net sags, stretches and folds; segments of the pattern are excised; the repetition is imperfect; the regular structure is deformed. The perfect geometry of a spiderweb only becomes useful when a fly has infringed its meticulous structure. [Alan Fletcher, “The Art of Looking Sideways”, Phaidon Press 2001]. Pristine rigidity morphs into organic imperfection; patterns and their shadows superimpose in Moire interference: perfection is both an illusion and much less interesting than reality.

At what point does a disrupted pattern become mere chaos?

When do patterns within patterns become too complex to apprehend?

My work in dot-net-dot-au refers to – amongst other things – genetic codes and their transcription errors, to cellular arrays and honeycomb, to the computer-drawing of three-dimensional objects and surfaces, to molecular models. It subverts the original use for everyday objects and materials, and in a gentle way addresses issues of biodegradability and permanence, of the culture of the disposable, of our cultural culinary appetites and of the occident and the orient. The motivation for the work is intuitive rather than primarily conceptual. The works arise from a response to materials, and from a desire – shared with Lola – to make something big out of something little, something valuable out of something worthless, something you want to keep from something you throw away.

Tim Craker
April 2008

Photography for dot-net-dot-au, except profile image of Tim, by Andrew Wuttke & Gavin Hansford.

Above: Tim Craker’s open studio at Rimbun Dahan during his first residency in 2006.

Louise Saxton

Louise Saxton

Louise Saxton is a Melbourne-based artist who trained in painting and printmaking at RMIT and holds a Post-graduate Diploma with the Victorian College of the Arts and a Masters Degree in Fine Arts with the University of Ballarat.

Since 2000, Louise’s practice has centred on the reconstruction of detritus from the home. This has included the re-use of her own paintings, collections of everyday business envelopes and vintage wallpapers and discarded needlework.

In 2006 she was awarded a Sir Ian Potter Cultural Trust travel grant to undertake an artist residency at Rimbun Dahan in Malaysia. In 2008, her joint exhibition dot-net-dot-au (with Tim Craker) toured to Malaysia and Singapore, including works she had conceived and created at Rimbun Dahan.

Artists’ Statement from the Travelling Exhibition dot-net-dot-au

Based on a collection of small henna-hand stencils (mehndi) I found in KL in 2006, I made (the linen coloured) Hand-work first. I chose the hornbill as the negative motif inside the hand because, being a vulnerable species in Malaysia, I wanted to create a connecting point between Malaysia, my time at Rimbun Dahan (the image was found in a Malaysian Nature Society magazine on the property) and our two very different cultures. I liked it so much that I made the blue one, mirroring the hand and repeating the hornbill negative within it. The Home-Tree was made next (based on an Indian Tree of Life image that I’ve been carrying around with me for the past 15 years) and the koala was chosen as the negative motif. Being a vulnerable species here at home, the koala acts for me, as an Australian counterpart to the Malaysian hornbill. The koala also has a deep connection, within Australia, to the decorative home-based traditions of the past (“Australiana” doilies etc) and as a national icon.

The use of the negative motif inside the highly decorative outer motif becomes a metaphor of vulnerability and potential loss (of species and also traditions) which is common to both our cultures. So, the choices I’ve made here are about my trying to find connecting points between my brief encounters with South East Asia and my ongoing life in Australia.

The majority of motifs I am choosing for dot-net-dot-au were “collected” in Asia and the majority of actual embroidered materials were collected here in Australia. These, largely Western motifs (dotted throughout with Asian inspired imagery) could be seen to represent colonisation, but hopefully, they can also create another link between cultures – that of the home and the garden.

In-filled with hundreds of, individually extracted, embroidered motifs, the Hand-work pieces create, because the palms are opened outwards, a gesture of welcome and offering (which links them to the original henna (mehndi) hands used for Indian weddings and other celebrations). In both Hand-works and Home-Tree there is also a sense of protection, by holding the vulnerable, absent image within their palm or branches. There is perhaps also, the possibility of loss and at the same time, the potential for ‘salvage’.

The other image I have chosen to work with is the Buddha head, also brought home with me from Malaysia as a simple pencil line-drawing. Traced from a book I found in my guest room at Rimbun Dahan, the original sculpture housed in the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam, is a 7th Century Cambodian Buddha. Imitations of these ancient sculptures are found here in Australia, one being spotted recently sitting outside my local garden shop. The image represents my own fascination with the incredible beauty of Eastern arts traditions, but also the difficult arena of the displacement of traditions, of Colonisation and the plundering of other cultures. At the same time, there seems to exist in the image, an enduring sense of quiet, humility and peace, which allows the image to somehow transcend its appropriation – or does it? The Buddha’s cast-down eyes, in my re-appropriation, are made of pearl-drop lace, a feather and a blue flower. His ear and cheek are embellished with tiny blue birds and a miniature Chinese fishing boat, a delicate butterfly caresses his neck and in his hair knots, (made from over 100 circular crochet and embroidered motifs) ‘nest’ two running-stitched swallows. These embellishments on an image once cast in bronze, and now drawn by me in delicate reclaimed lace, could point to the Buddhist idea of transience? However, it also makes me feel uncomfortable – is it still a “stolen” image? This also causes me to wonder, about the nature of travel, of my residency and my return to Malaysia and Singapore to exhibit this year – while we try to grasp something of the wisdom and experience of other traditions, can we ever really hold on to it, or make it our own?

Louise Saxton
March 2008

Helen Bodycomb

Helen Bodycomb

Helen Bodycomb of Castlemaine, Australia, had a residency at Rimbun Dahan in 2006. She returned to Malaysia in 2009 with three other mosaic artists to work on the collaborative artwork ‘The Shyness of Trees’ at Hotel Penaga.

Bio

Helen Bodycomb moved to the Castlemaine area in late 2007 from Melbourne, where she had lived on and off for almost 30 years. Born in Adelaide and raised as a young child in Elizabeth (SA), she went to Uni High and later – to art school – in Melbourne. She completed a BA in Fine Art (majoring in Painting) at Victoria College, Prahran and then a Post-Graduate Diploma at Monash Uni. See http://www.helenbodycomb.com/

 

March 2006 — Stink Horn Fungues

March 2006 — Stink Horn Fungues

BY ANGELA HIJJAS

The last month has been stormy at Rimbun Dahan, with rain almost every day.

This Stink Horn fungus was found mid March under a clump of palms. A
saprophytic (parasitic) fungus, it emits an odour that attracts flies that
visit the messy decaying flesh, subsequently helping to disperse the spores.

Order: Pallales
Family: Pallaceae
Genus: Dictyophora (Stink Horn fungi)

(‘A Guide to Tropical Fungi’, Dr. Tan Teck Hoon, Singapore Science Centre,
1990.)

Could Forests Worsen Global Warming?

Published in The Sunday Star, 15 January 2006

The recent research findings that forests generate methane, a gas responsible for global warming, should not really surprise us, as it highlights how little we understand how ecosystems work. But loggers take note: this is no reason to cut more forest or to avoid our responsibility to rehabilitate damaged forests.

The chemical forces at work within a forest ecosystem have bigger consequences than just locking up carbon or emitting methane. We must take stock of the free and vastly valuable ecological services that forests provide us before we commit yet more damage that may have unforeseen consequences. As a species, we have already seriously mutilated our own ecosystem, to the extent that there is a real possibility that civilization as we know it may cease to exist within the next century. We know that forests and oceans generate the oxygen, water and food we depend on for our very survival, but we extract so much from both for our short term gains and fail to appreciate that these systems can only be taxed so far before they quickly spiral into irreversible unproductivity.

We must therefore apply the cautionary principle: don’t cut forests because one study shows that they generate greenhouse gases, as they are incalculably valuable for other reasons that we have not bothered to quantify. Healthy forests ensure clean water supplies and safe habitats for the myriad of species that make up these unique chemical and biological systems. The plants in Malaysia’s, the oldest, forests in the world are yet to be studied in detail but they surely harbour an entire pharmacopoeia of cures for all man’s ills and needs.

Forests have supported mankind for millennia, and as long as there are healthy forests I believe there will be healthy people.

I appeal to the Prime Minister to realize the impressive National Physical Plan prepared by the Federal Government, by supporting the States financially so that they can protect our forests rather than logging them for short term gain. I believe we face a critical watershed right now: if our forests are allowed to be devastated for the sake of an insatiable world timber market, then the ecology of our tropical paradise may well collapse.

I for one would willingly pay an environmental tax to keep our forests intact.

Angela Hijjas
Member, Malaysian Nature Society

January 2006 — Rambutans Attract Monkeys

January 2006 — Rambutans Attract Monkeys

BY ANGELA HIJJAS

Greetings to all for Christmas and the New Year. Our rambutan trees are in fruit and are just the right colour for the season. We have had plenty monkeys around to enjoy the fruit, and interestingly, if not surprising, is the fact that the long tailed macaques eat the fruit weeks before it is ripe, therefore securing an evolutionary advantage over humans who must wait, and most likely miss out. But apparently rambutans are adapted to this predation as well, as I noticed as I weeded lots of quite mature seedlings this morning: they obviously germinate from immature fruit. The fruit is green, but the seed is viable.

As well as the ubiquitous macaques, we have what I thought is the Banded Langur. However I’m not clear on the species differentiation, as this one was photographed on 17th December fits the description of the Dusky Langur. It could be that we have both species visiting occasionally.

Dusky Langur, Trachypithecus obscurus, TL 110 – 115 cm.

Most individuals are dark grey, with paler grey on hindlegs and crown and a pale grey or whitish belly patch, sharply demarcated from darker back. The bare skin on the face is dark grey with bold white interrupted rings around the eyes and a white patch over the mouth. Newborn young are bright golden-yellow, like other Trachypethecus. Call is a loud, double snort or grunt, rendered as ‘chengkong’ in Malay. Occurs in a wide range of habitats from montane to coastal forests including some offshore islands. Feed mainly on leaves, nuts and fruits. In peninsular Malaysia, tends to feed higher and in larger trees than Banded langur, Presbytis femoralis, when both species occur together. Found in troops of about 15 individuals with a single male. Gives birth to a single young after a gestation period of about five months. Range includes southern Myanmar and Thailand, peninsular Malaysia and some adjacent islands.

Photographic Guide to Mammals of South-East Asia, by Charles M. Francis

 

Suzanne Ingleton

Suzanne Ingleton has been at the forefront of political cabaret and stand-up comedy since the mid-seventies, touring widely in Australia and overseas, writing and producing for television and community arts projects.  During this residency Ingleton completed a play dealing with the Malayan Emergency of the fifties, Flower of Malaya, and visited local communities in Kelantan to undertake field study and research into shamanism and performance which will feed into her book Being There in Spirit.

Jayne Fenton Keane

In 2005, Australian poet Jayne Fenton-Keane spent an Asialink residency in India, Singapore, and at Rimbun Dahan in Malaysia.

Jayne Fenton-Keane is a poet, new media artist and composer who takes poetry to different spaces with her poetry-sound fusions, installations and performances. The author of three poetry books, Torn, Ophelia’s Codpiece and The Transparent Lung, Keane is an award winner in several genres, is completing a doctorate on embodiment and spatial poetics, and the founding Director of National Poetry Week. During her residency Keane explored pilgrimage as a creative method for inviting new knowledge into her writing. Activities included a residency at Rimbun Dahan in Malaysia, a residency at the Singapore Poetry Festival and appearances with the CGH Earth Chain in India.

October 2005 — Jungle Fowl

October 2005 — Jungle Fowl

BY ANGELA HIJJAS

Until the 18th September, the predominant dry, hazy weather prevailed at Rimbun Dahan. Since the coming of the Equinox on about the 22nd September, we have had 309 mm rain in the last 35 days and clear blue skies are once more the norm. The Equinox, when the sun is directly above the Equator, usually brings unsettled weather that could have contributed to the prevalence of the American hurricanes in the last month.

In the last week of October, with the rainy season well under way, we decided to lop branches in the orchard, to give more light to smaller trees and thus encourage them to grow taller. As we dragged branches to a heap, a jungle fowl flew off from under our feet, revealing this nest with five eggs. We immediately moved away, except for a quick photograph, but didn’t see her return to the nest.

The species name is Gallus gallus, the evolutionary ancestor of all domestic breeds of chicken. Unmistakable with long, slender body. The male has bare red facial skin, comb and lappets below throat distinctive. Bright yellow hackles cover neck, breast and upper back; lower back maroon contrasting with reddish orange rump; secondaries largely chestnut; primates blackish. The female crown, head and neck reddish chestnut with dark brown and buff streaks on neck; upperparts dark olive brown, breast chestnut brown merging into olive brown belly; bare facial skin and superficial comb red. Both sexes have dark greyish legs and distinctive white ear patches. Readily intra-breeds with domestic chickens (that are the same species) but progeny usually lack these last characteristics. domestic varieties generally have more prominent combs and lappets. Strong flyers over short distances.