Marjanac, Hana; Lemezina, Zrinka --- "Interview with Adam Hill" [2009] IndigLawB 40; (2009) 7(14) Indigenous Law Bulletin 26

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Interview with Adam Hill

Hana Marjanac and Zrinka Lemezina

Sydney is an Aboriginal place. Aboriginal art is art made by Aboriginal people and as much as art can be a physical object; an Aboriginal mind and an Aboriginal person are works of art and a ‘dreaming’.

Aboriginal people continue to live, think, create, and to progressively thrive in New South Wales in great numbers.

What we draw on from our memories, and think, imagine and create in our daily lives is our dreaming, and our art is the spirit of these seemingly common everyday experiences in and from the land we belong to.

‘We paint the land’ is not a cliché, and it is appropriate that here and now we ‘paint’ Sydney.

Djon Mundine OAM,

Curator, Art & About Open Gallery 2009

The City of Sydney’s Art & About festival is a celebration of Sydney’s identity and its ‘proud tradition of diversity and creativity’. Running from 1-25 October, the festival transformed the city’s public spaces with a wide range of art forms – including painting, performance, laneways and street-side banners – from established and emerging artists.

Adam Hill, a Dhungatti man born in Blacktown and now living in Redfern, participated in this year’s festival by providing his painting U...R...an ‘I ummmm ... we are AFAILINGLAND’ to the Open Gallery. Together with works from 10 other Indigenous artists, Adam’s artwork was shown as part of this year’s theme, Nothing is Lost – Nothing is Nothing – We are not Nothing.

Adam is a painter, graphic designer and illustrator. He is respected as an artist and performer – he is well known as a Yidaki (Didgeridoo) player as has toured his music internationally. He studied Graphic Design at UWS Nepean, turning to painting while working on the Indigenous Australians exhibition at the Australian Museum. Drawing heavily on wordplay, the titles and imagery of Adam’s paintings present a humourous yet biting commentary on Australian history, society and politics.

An accomplished mural artist, Adam’s participation in this year’s festival is particularly fitting. He is a strong supporter and exhibitor in street art and his public artworks can be found on the walls of schools, council buildings and shopping malls all over Sydney. Adam spoke to the Indigenous Law Bulletin about his role in this year’s festival, his take on art and how he uses it as his political, cultural and creative weapon:

What role can festivals such as Art & About play in educating Australians about Aboriginal culture, history and traditions?

The festival is a fantastic advertisement about the work going on in and around Sydney. Using the city streets to display artworks is a creative way of incorporating Aboriginal art into everyday life and making our ideas visible. The techniques used are particularly interesting – hanging paintings and banners from flagpoles all around the city is a very inventive way of using what has become a largely commercialised space. Public places are so often used for billboards and marketing so I think that these methods are a clever way of turning conventional advertising practices on their head. The organisers of Art & About have their finger on the pulse; this approach immediately makes art seem more familiar and accessible because it is presented in a format that is so well known.

Having our works displayed in this way allows Aboriginal artists to really put our stamp on Sydney. The Open Gallery reinforces our presence and revitalises Sydney’s Aboriginal spirituality in an artistic sense. It reminds people that we are a continuing culture and places before them a perfect and up-to-date account of our art in today’s world. I find that people have difficulty relating my particular style to what is commonly considered ‘Aboriginal art’, such as the type of work produced by artists like Uncle Milton Budge, Uncle Roy Kennedy and Aunty Elaine Russell. Having my modern approach hanging alongside theirs challenges wider perceptions not only about what constitutes ‘Indigenous’ art but also what constitutes ‘art’ more generally. This festival reminds people that there are many different ways of looking things and that Aboriginal art takes many forms – and there is room for all of them.

Your painting U...R...an ‘I ummmm ... we are AFAILINGLAND’ is being exhibited in the foyer of the AMP building in Circular Quay. What is the significance of that particular artwork and what does it mean to have it displayed in this forum?

My work is featured on a banner displayed with several other Indigenous artists. It is a critical comment on uranium mining and was produced for my solo show at Arc1 Gallery Melbourne 2008. The timing of the Indigenous Art Program is perfect given the Federal Government’s recent approval of the Four Mile uranium mine in South Australia. To me, there is a beautiful irony in having that artwork displayed in the AMP foyer, which is a towering symbol of blue chip investment companies. The people who traverse that foyer think about investing on a daily basis; the AMP building represents the people and the institutions who buy into the chook lotto of ‘elite Aboriginal art’ which, thankfully, does not include me or my work.

I think of my painting as a giving a very public middle finger to these public corporations and their investors, with their ethic of materialism and consumption. There is something absurd about displaying Aboriginal art, a form of spiritual and cultural expression, in an arena that ruthlessly and routinely exploits these very things for commercial gain. These are the organisations that ultimately benefit from the mining industry, not the people who live on the land. I also think of it as a bit of a double middle finger to the Federal Environment Minister; this is an art form that Peter Garrett is familiar with and I hope to remind him of his sudden turnaround and his two-faced façade.

You are often described as an ‘urban Aboriginal artist’. What does this mean to you?

I am happy to say that I traversed this minefield quite quickly and didn’t get stuck on the question of ‘what is Indigenous’ or ‘what is Indigenous art’. I never produced stylised dot paintings for sake of referencing Aboriginal iconology; I preferred to create my own symbolism. To me, being an ‘urban’ artist means that my focus is primarily political. Not only do I reside in Redfern but I am a stone’s throw from Macquarie St, which is the political hub of NSW. In my work, I am not only dealing with local Redfern politics but also with municipal and state politics more generally. It means that I am not boxed in – I am not constrained in the issues or imagery I can explore in my painting.

The first piece I ever painted, for instance, was a comment on the environmental degradation of western Sydney. I often like to reflect on that when people want to challenge me on my ethic, on my aboriginality, my connection to my community. My work is a form of political communication – it allows me an avenue to critique policy directions at all levels of government. More to the point, it gives me a voice to draw attention to state inaction and the unimaginative approach of our local representatives towards Aboriginal people. In that sense, my work speaks to the more politically aware, to people who relate to the poignancy and satire immediately. My paintings typically appeal to people who have a similar, perhaps ‘urban’ way of thinking; they offer a refreshing affirmation of their social perspectives and concerns. So I guess for me, ‘urban’ art is a form of activism, a way of holding up a mirror to today’s political climate and hopefully finding support among like-minded thinkers.

The exploitation of Indigenous artists by carpetbaggers, and the narrow range of ‘art’ sold in commercial galleries, was portrayed vividly in the film Sampson and Delilah. What are your thoughts on this issue?

I see these people as self-interested, white art pimps. They are the ones who set the standard for ‘Indigenous art’ and they do it on their terms and according to their own interests. I see this as like a prostitution racket; buying a $1.5 million Emily it is not about celebrating Aboriginal talent or culture but about making enormous financial gain, none of which flows back to communities. This ideology of ‘elite’ Aboriginal art offers the wealthy an opportunity to flaunt their supposed cultural sensibilities while remote communities continue to suffer the worst poverty, substance abuse and youth suicide on the continent.

The desperate race to expose ‘elderly art talent’ in remote regional communities allows little opportunity for artists who do not fit that mold to gain recognition or access to commercial galleries. If younger artists continue being squeezed out of the market in favour of their more vulnerable, more suggestible elders, future generations will lose out. If young people are not encouraged, they will lose interest in their artistic traditions; stories and knowledge will die out. But this is not just about remote communities – it has impacts around the country. The lopsided focus on ‘exotic’ art closes the door to the talent coming out of more urbanised areas such as western Sydney, where kids are not so placid and where the artwork has a message that hits closer to home. By defining ‘Aboriginal art’ according to what is more convenient to the industry, those voices will be drowned out.

What role can art play in order to engage younger Aboriginal Australians with Aboriginal culture and traditions?

Art in the modern sense gives young people an outlet for comment and a way to air their political grievances. One way of doing this is by embracing graffiti in our urban centres as a valid, genuine form of creative expression. Demonising street art is another way in which the art world reinforces ideas of ‘legitimate’ and ‘illegitimate’ and brings back the issue of artistic and cultural stereotypes. Graffiti and tags are seen as a form of vandalism and as destructive to the civic space. But quality signatures with a beautiful calligraphic style have a strong artistic element that can take years to develop.

All over the city we can see the development of high rise monstrosities – these are a form of architectural vandalism that are equally harmful to community spirit and a sense of belonging. These structures are always concrete. Why not provide opportunities and funds for young people to hit the sides of these walls under graffiti mentors, under nationally and internationally renowned piece artists? This would offer young people something positive to aspire to. Instead, we save this space for billboards, which bring in $40,000 a month in advertising, and keep on issuing on-the-spot fines.

Graffiti is very much an expression of community, an expression of the people who live there and who they are. It offers a tremendous opportunity for despondent youth to engage with older practitioners in workshops and community projects. Less money should be spent enforcing anti-graffiti laws; targeted programs offer a chance for communities to come together, for young people to engage with their elders and to reclaim their public spaces in a positive and creative way.

Hana Marjanac is studying law and social work at the University of New South Wales. She is currently completing her fourth year of studies.

Zrinka Lemezina is the Editor of the Indigenous Law Bulletin.