rod
moss: intervention
Rod Moss legendary painter from
the fringes of Alice Springs brings us more of his arresting
imagery - a closer look into Aboriginal daily life in the desert.
Often perplexing but always engaging, these graphic works can
appear both mundane and sardonic. Tongue in cheek references
and suggestive poses by the Aboriginal subjects simultaneously
challenge both our knowledge and ignorance of Aborigines and
Indigenous life, often wryly quoting famous masterworks from
European painting history including Manet, Bellini and Caravaggio.
You can almost hear the viewer muttering…”do they
really live like that?”…
Rod Moss has been painting this
scenario for over 25 years and he doesn’t look like giving
up yet. The title for this new body of work 'Intervention' comes
at perfect time for the natural story-teller that Moss is: He
writes of returning to Alice Springs from a sabbatical in Europe.
“I was traveling overseas
for 7 months last year. Almost the first thing I heard from
Indigenous friends when I landed back in Australia was that
the army had invaded Central Australian indigenous communities
in knee-jerk response to the Little Children Are Sacred Report.
Was this only the most current modality of the coloniser's handiwork?
Well, we have our own history of Dreamings that collaborate
in this work. And I had only just left the home of Caravaggio
whose 1609, Nativity I deployed in this instance. When I started
this (and it was on request of Noreen Hayes, who wanted a painting
of her baby and her) the Whitegate mob were incensed that they
were being treated differently from other Australians.
Similarly in another recent
work 'Fallen Man'..., Bellini's 1516 work, 'The Drunkenness
of Noah' is referenced. Little needs to be added to the overdriven
press of alcohol abuse that continues to threaten and destroy
indigenous lives. Of course, that the NT has, according to some
sources, two and half times greater drinking per capita than
elsewhere in this thirsty country, is not the singular province
of its indigenous population.
Another work in this collection
that makes a connection to older art is, 'Le Dejueur sur Teppa
Hill', and it relies on the ‘frenchified’ title
somewhat alluding to a Manet. The Stratco building, which wasn't
there when I dreamt up the painting, just offered that crunching
irony….And I didn't do a thing about getting Xavier or
Lenny Cavanagh to gesture in the Manet mannerism! It was just
a lucky throw of the dice…”
Through
his painting and drawing Rod interprets the cultural interface
between Indigenous and non-Indigenous people in Central Australia
where he resides. Using graphite and synthetic polymer paint
he carefully constructs narratives that challenge conventional
images and endow his subjects with a common humanity. The blinding
light of the desert environment renders a new way of seeing
and elicits a gentle interrogation of the nature of what is
accepted as realism.
To
anyone who knows a little art history, it’s obvious that
the poses of the Aboriginal figures in Rod Moss’ paintings
are taken from a series of Western masterpieces. For example,
the singers of Gospel Singers come from Seurat’s Bathers
at Asnieres, the road workers of Road to Arltunga come from
Courbet’s The Stonebreakers and the men sprawled on the
ground in Raft come from Géricault’s The Raft of
the Medusa. And, once we realise this, an irreducible strangeness
enters these works. But how exactly do these poses make Moss’
figures look? How is it that these poses actually inhabit these
bodies?
As
always in art, it is a matter of looking closely and describing
what we see. It is absolutely in the way these bodies are painted
and not in any “controversial” subject matter that
the true provocation of Moss’ work is to be found.On the
one hand, as we look at this imitation of another by these bodies,
we might say that they are no longer who they appear to be but
are precisely posing, taking up an attitude for some invisible
gaze outside of the canvas. It is almost as though these figures
seek to incorporate our look upon them, imagine how they are
being seen by us, so that what we see when we look at them is
literally our own gaze embodied in them. This is obviously Moss’
point about the way that these figures are merely the reflection
of a certain white gaze upon them, with all of its preconceptions
and stereotypes, before which they turn into images of themselves.And
yet, on the other hand, if this pose can appear as something
these bodies consciously put on, it is also something that divides
them from themselves. That is, the more these bodies lie or
slump in their earthly desolation, the more we become aware
of something else in them, And what is this mysterious, sublime
substance that so attracts us to these figures, makes us desire
to participate too in this enjoyment known only to them?