The Journalist

She writes. She interviews and makes podcasts about eye-opening subjects. Sometimes you see her on TV, too, talking about topics close to her heart, like the PANDSI cake off.
She has a soft but determined voice and a great work ethic. She is passionate about social justice – she lends that voice to those that need to be heard. Her stories are always compelling and make you think harder about the world and about yourself.

As a journalist, I have been following her work for quite a few years now but I never really dreamed I would meet her in person. Until I did. The night before our meeting I was so excited, that I couldn’t sleep much. And during the few hours I did sleep, I dreamed about our photo shoot. Twice.

In real life, she is even more remarkable than I imagined her. She has a great sense of colour and she wears the most amazing frocks, completed with unique jewelry. And she bakes, did I tell you that?
She goes by her nickname as her professional signature. (just one of the things I found that we have in common).

Her eyes light up when she talks about the things that matter to her and her passion is contagious. In fact, I found that we have so many things in common – have you ever had that feeling? When you start a dialogue with someone, when things make sense and you are almost able to end their sentences?
Despite her awards and all the amazing things she achieved in her professional career, Ginger is quite modest in talking about herself.

When I was 4, I wanted to be a nurse. Later on, coming out of high school, I wanted to be a textile artist. Both my grandmothers loved sewing. My maternal grandmother was very good with crochet. My paternal grandmother loved to embroider dresses. I grew with this passion for fabrics; in fact I loved the idea of painting with fabrics. I especially loved making textile sculptures. As a teenager, I just wanted to write and make things with fabric. I ended up choosing journalism as a career though, as opposed to textiles. One of the reasons was because I never wanted to try and sell my artwork and make a living from it. I questioned whether anyone would ever pay for those hundreds of hours of cutting and stitching in my work …

I still think that the arts are fundamental to a society’s health and happiness. Unfortunately, Governments and funders can see it as superfluous, which it certainly is not. For instance, we know that people with dementia respond better to music. People who read fiction are more empathetic.

I always believed the world should be a just place - a better place - and that is why I decided to be a journalist. I still like working with textiles; I just feel that I can contribute more with my words towards this better place. 

“Who are You?” – It is a startling question, but I always ask my sitters at the beginning of their interview to give it a thought.

I’m a social justice journalist and a mother. I love the first bit. It’s my passion. The second bit I find rewarding sometimes, but super hard even though I love my kids. After I had my first daughter, I had to deal with postnatal depression and my journey as a mother started in a dark place, unfortunately. I picked up along the way but in the end, I’m not that interested in the domestic drudgery, the fish fingers, the washing up. The society has made this neurotic, perfect mum culture; I am not interested in that culture. It is a very uneasy balance that I struggle with at times. My work is my passion and I feel that I can make a difference through my words. 

 

My innermost dream? I’ve got two: That my children will grow up in a world where equality exists, but climate change does not. I want to bring up my children in a way that will teach them how to relate to others and be kind. I want them to live in a world that is more just.
I want to fight for a more just society; the question I always ask is “how do we treat the others?” When others aren’t treated equally, that upsets me. I feel the urge to write those stories and tell the world about those injustices. They are the hardest stories to tell; these people are already hurt, they can be afraid to talk to a journalist. I take ethics incredibly seriously in my work and I go to a lot of trouble to make sure my interviewees feel heard and represented. There are lots of journalists that aren’t interested or don’t have the time or inclination to treat people with the courtesy they deserve and that makes me despair.

I am always interested in how people would use their 15 minute of fame – it’s one of the set questions in this project. Although Ginger is already well known, I was still interested to know her answer.

 

Ha ha ha ha. It’s hard to have 15 minutes of fame. You have to wear piles of makeup and shapewear. I’ve been expreincing this lately. For exmaple when you are on TV, it’s hard not to feel insecure and to get over how you look and simply say what’s important! I would use the 15 minutes to talk about the things that matter to me – usually making marginalised people heard. For eexample, the people I interview might have mental health problems, be facing poverty and homelessness or be expereincing bullying or domestic violenece. They are people who are on the fringe but shouldn’t be. Society must be more inclusive.

Safe Schools. Transgender Children. Prosthetic limbs as wearable artworks. Teens suicide. Women in media. Postnatal depression. Sexual and domestic violence against women living with disability. These are just some of her stories and even if the topics may be uneasy for some, Ginger lends them her voice to raise awareness.

Recently, she has covered one of the most honest accounts about a young woman dying rapidly from bowel cancer. It is – in her words –“the ugly conversation about cancer no one else is having. It's not brave or inspirational. But it is honest and unflinching. I can promise you that”.
(click here to read the full article)

Ginger is a cancer survivor herself, and she remembers vividly the times when she herself struggled with the idea of fighting the cancer or being seen as inspirational, or as a heroine.

I was very pragmatic about having cancer. During treatment I just put one foot in front of the other. I accepted that dying was a possibility, even though the prognosis was good. I certainly never thought of myself as being ‘brave’ or in a ‘battle.’ That kind of cancer dialogue never had a meaning to me.

I am genuinely interested to find out about my sitters’ first role model; I think it’s a part of their life that defines who they are. Maybe it’s the sadness that I don’t know when I will see my own father again, or maybe it’s the fact that we have this affinity; either way, Ginger’s answer resonated deeply with me, because I have the same role model – my father.

My Dad was my first role model. He still is, even though he’s deceased. He came from a very poor Catholic working class family in Melbourne. He knew from when he was very young that what he wanted most was education. He started as a teacher and ended up being a diplomat. He always hammered into me how important is to learn. Even if he is no longer with us, I think every day about the things he taught me. I also understand that we are not all born into privileged families, that some people do not have the same opportunities.
My biggest regret is that my Dad is not here.

Books – in my opinion – are shaping us more than any other medium. I have been a bookworm all of my life. Naturally, it’s a question I like to explore and by asking each sitter about their favourite book (then and now) maybe I am secretly hoping to compile a new, ultimate reading list. I am truly amazed at how many books I haven’t read or known so far. And believe me, I do read a lot. 

The first favourite story that I can remember liking as a child is Tottie and the Dollshouse. I was mad about dolls’ houses and I still love them. I still have one that belonged to Steven Fry’s mother. This doll house must be more than 100 years old; it was given to my grandmother – my mother and her sisters played with it. When my grandmother passed away, I asked for it to be shipped to me from England.
My favourite book now is “The Road” by Cormac McCarthy.

I always ask my sitters to name a place where they feel at home, where they feel themselves.

I don’t have a home because I travelled all my life. I lived in several countries and there are some places around the world that resoante with me – like Bangkok. I can’t honestly say there’s a place where I feel “me” anywhere.

Talking about career and being a mother, I asked Ginger how she manages to keep all the balls juggling.

It’s not glamorous; it’s sometimes a messy balance between family life and work. My children are the heart of my life. But I also work from home. Sometimes it’s a crazy spinning wheel. It’s not neat, ordered or systematic but in the end it always works out. I don’t believe in Super Mums. Our society really has to do a lot of sorting out in terms of how family life fits with working parents. Most work places need to transform, in order to reflect how all these pieces fit.
The most challenging act is keeping all the balls in the air. Sometimes after writing a story the whole night, I turn up at my kids’ school looking like death warmed up and wearing terrible clothes. It does make me wonder what the other parents think!
I take my work seriously but I try to keep my family happy too. It’s a strange dichotomy – trying to remember to make sure there’s toilet paper in the cupboard and milk in the fridge while working on a powerful story where people’s lives are at risk.

I recently went to a feminist conference and had to facilitate a discussion panel about women and the transformation of work. The women on the panel were wonderful and articulate. However at one point I was thinking: I wish I could show the young women in the audience a picture of my filthy bedroom right now. We all operate on many levels but I am pretty sure no one has all the balls in the air at all times. 

(Click here to read Ginger's brilliant take on working mums and house work).

 – What was the most interesting story that you ever covered?

There isn’t just one. There are a lot of stories that I covered that have affected me. I stay connected to those people I interview. To me, they aren’t just stories. Media is a hungry beast, on a 24 hours cycle. It seems to chew stories and spit them up .It’s the opposite of how I like to interact. I feel incredibly privileged to witness and record people’s stories. Therefore people’s stories often stay with me.

I don’t have a favourite media; I use them all as needed. I am not crash hot on TV sometimes, but I love radio and writing.
There is a hint of magic about writing. On a good day you can choose the words and craft the story in a way that goes straight to the heart. I also like audio – it’s such a domestic, almost intimate feeling, having your voice heard in people’s living rooms and cars. A person builds in their mind the story you are telling them. It’s a privilege being in a listener’s domestic life in this way.

– Do you find your stories or do they find you?

A bit of both. I’m always listening and watching and questioning.
I have been a journalist for 16 years now and I always thought that “churnalism” isn’t the right way to do things. I never write from press releases.
Since I left ABC, I find myself listening more. I think a lot. Things come out of nowhere and if you really listen to someone, there’s often an untold story hiding in there. Even on social media, there’s a million possible stories people are trying to tell – but often no one is listening. They are just “shouting” at each other.
I find that if you listen and you are open to stories, they come to you. For instance, I was investigating a story about failed IVF. This initial, devastating story came from a conversation with two friends who had unsuccessfully tried IVF. One it was published, someone asked me on Twitter why I don’t write about men’s grief? No one seemed to want to talk about that grief, about the men who will never be fathers. That question became a second powerful story.

 Ginger's portrait has been taken in the Sculpture Garden  near Bert Flugelman's "Cones" sculpture.
Many thanks to the National Gallery of Australia - and in particular to Nick Nicholson for his guidance.


 

The Poet

"My innermost dream is to keep on writing poetry and travelling"

The day I met Andrew was the day everything went wrong. From the little things like kids being kids, delaying the school run; to more important ones, like missing the right bus.  I was late for the interview – a first in my entire journalistic career. And to top it all, I left the hat of many dreams at home. Which defeated the purpose of making his portrait. Despite starting on a very wrong foot, he graciously gave me a second chance. And I am grateful that he did; I met a fascinating person, passionate about poetry and about life, generally.

His poems have been internationally published, making their way to Chile, Ireland, UK, USA and New Zealand. Yet Andrew is very modest when he talks about his work and about himself.

When I was 4, I wanted to get on a bus, sit down and go for a ride – from what my mum tells me, a ride anywhere; just get on and enjoy the ride.

I had two favourite stories as a child; one about a Yowie that was eating all the animals until they set fire to his cave and killed him.  The other was a story about Louis Pasteur discovering penicillin – I liked the way the story was told; there was a child involved – possibly his son and Pasteur was trying to find a cure. The germs were little monsters and the antibiotics were little soldiers. It certainly made for a good story.

Coming out of high school, I knew I was going to be a writer. I have always wanted to be a writer and the earliest I wrote a poem was probably in year 5. It was about a desk chasing and eating students.

My dream back then was to leave the Central Coast of New South Wales; to get out and explore. I applied to ANU but in the end I accepted an offer from the University of Newcastle - they had a beach. It was a great time, living in a college near the beach.

Between Years 10 and 11, I went to Brazil as an exchange student. I worked on my Portuguese, I traveled. This is one of my biggest dreams – to be able to travel and explore new and old places. I have been travelling around the world for a bit and I hope to travel more. My mother took me to the USA first and I liked it; I went back and I explored some of the places I always wanted to see: Texas, Chicago, Boston…

I always ask my sitters this question: “Who are you now?”
Andrew’s answer was very concise:
Me. I don’t like labels and clichés; I try to be me and do what I like. I love living in Canberra; I love writing; I am now doing poetry full time. I love travelling and discovering places – it inspires me in my personal quests as well as my writing. I would love to go back to Europe one day.

A typical day in Andrew’s life starts early: - I wake up around 4 am. I read the news, sometimes I watch documentaries – I have a few favourites I love to watch; some about New York City, some about the Civil War.
There are always pluses and minuses to one’s life; somedays are great and things go smooth. The days that are harder to get through, Andrew keeps on top by making lists of things to do.

My innermost dream is to keep on writing poetry and travelling.
I’d love to live in Ortigia, Sicily, Florence, Tuscany and Canberra; and eat baked ricotta, seafood, and go swimming.
The one thing that motivates me is the future.

For a while, I struggled with any sort of ideology and when I started reading Camus, I welcomed the idea of someone who wrote about things I myself thought about many times, such as accepting and understanding that when you are dead, you live through things you created.

 

 

 

 

I am unsure where I will be in 5 years’ time; which is unusual for me. I’d love to have another book out by then; I’d love to travel overseas with the book. In fact, I’d love to spend some more time abroad – I like Europe a lot; in my previous travels I enjoyed exploring the galleries and museums and studying the Roman and Greek history. I am also very interested in the Spanish Civil War and the Cold War.

My experience of having a residency in Catalonia was a great one; I’d like to do the same in Italy. My residency was in a small town outside Barcelona. I didn’t speak Catalan and very few people there speak English but I started to pick up on the language. I enjoyed exploring and discovering the place. There were not many cafes in El Bruc; I mostly went to the same place. I liked sampling the local food - there was a local traditional dish that was only made during a local annual festival re-enacting the two Battles of El Bruc.

If I was to get those 15 minute of fame, I’d like to make enough money to be comfortable.
Comfortable is a term that can easily be condensed or stretched, based on individual needs and life experience; therefore I was genuinely interested to find out what it means to Andrew.

 - To be able to live somewhere nice, not to have to worry about food, to be able to afford travelling. When it comes to my writing and travels, I have always been calculating how much time and how much money I need to make it happen. I have been working part time, and saved for the travels.

When it comes to working; I feel that everyone should work but maybe less hours; it is healthier and more benefic. It affords the time for pursuing arts, hobbies and it doesn’t burn one individual down. It is very frustrating and sad to hear the politicians talk about increasing the efficiency in the Public Service. ‘Efficiency’ generally means getting more out of people for less investment in them.

I have always avoided role models; instead, there are fiction characters that I like. When I was little, I loved reading comics. I guess, in a way Judge Dredd was my first role model. I liked him for being authoritarian and for the direct nature of his acts. His rules are applied uniformly.
I also like Optimus Prime, because he is a true believer. I wouldn’t describe him as my role model but he has definitely been one alongside Judge Dredd.

Another question I ask my sitters is “What is your biggest regret”?
The many small ones; opportunities I haven’t noticed or times when  I misunderstood people – it can take a long time to understand a situation or a context; sometimes months or years and sometimes I find myself thinking I wish I understood it then.

So, what gets Andrew going; what is his creative flow process?

 -  Diligence. Writing takes lots of effort. I am constantly thinking about things. I love collecting images and documents. During my travels I gathered lots of postcards, books and documents you wouldn’t be able to get otherwise. I find my inspiration in all these.

I write in very different ways: I have a few sets of exercises; I do Free Writing.  I can dwell on an idea or a concept until I am happy to write it and give it a finite shape. Commissions are the hardest, as I have to build my writing approach to the subject or theme commissioned. I am really enjoying my latest one, with the Red Room Company. It was very interesting recording with them. (Click here to read one of Andrew's poems, featured in the Red Room's "The Disappearing" project)

I like exploring things; digging around for words. I like experimenting and finding new things. Sometimes I feel like I am carrying things with me wherever I go. Often, on a location I find myself writing about Canberra, or about feelings within. One time, when I went to Brisbane last year, I ended up writing a poem about my father. This was something that I struggled with for a long time I am happy with how it turned out.

Poetry is very important to me. It’s the best place to explore your own imagination. Poetry can be very direct but can also be very layered. I like it more than prose or film.

I like visual arts, they can be layered too and I like writing about visual arts. Ekphrasis in the modern definition, when you write a narrative describing what you see, but also in the classical definition, where one usually takes a mythological reference and then starts a narrative with a critical or even political impression. I most recently worked on a commission for the Photography Room, writing about the photography of Michael Masters.

I think everyone should be encouraged to make art. Creation is important; it should be critical, actually. I tend to get away from the artistic hobby versus professional approach. Sometimes an artistic practice can lose touch, just like the politicians. Any profession can consume you and people get disconnected and forget what was important in the first place.

I see that sometimes art is labeled; I am trying not to categorise. With poetry – people embrace the idea of spoken words. I know that people categorise “Slam Poetry” now.  I just disagree with it, as the term can close an avenue for people to perform their poetry. When you are on that stage, anything you perform is a “slam poem”.

The people in my life are the most important to me. Poetry comes close. They are part of it too, because they wouldn’t be in my life without poetry. I can be very guarded; I can be very opened too. I get worried about being too honest sometimes, as I don’t want to offend people. When I write, I try to be as honest as possible.

I couldn’t help but asking Andrew why he likes Pablo Neruda.  
- Well, he was a poet. And a public servant too. He was part of resisting awful things in his country. He tried to make the world a better place and when he finally escaped Chile, the exile must have been such a horrible experience. I would feel guilt if I survived something like that and others didn’t.

And since we were into the realm of poetry, I asked Andrew to talk about his personal involvement, particularly from the perspective of being a co-founder of Bad!Slam!No!Biscuit! and a producer for the Noted Festival. - It’s all about creating a space to engage both new people and the existing artistic community; we want as many people as possible to take part. Not just as audience, but rather being participants. People come along to Bad!Slam! and as the event progresses through the night, they loosen up. Since 2009, we never had a night without new people coming up on the stage. And that is great.

I love it. I love being part of it and once I am on the stage, everything feels right.

I used to be a producer for “Noted”, now I am curating it.
With both events, I love being able to encourage other artists, to provide opportunities for other people who are emerging. It is important to provide a space for them – not just the location, but making sure that art is accessible to everyone, not cliquey not dominative or emphasizing. We take the middle line approach; everyone is equal. Bad!Slam! keeps it fair for everyone because everyone is treated the same, regardless their poetic journey.

How do people inspire me? Sometimes it’s more about generating ideas to write on, or about concepts kicking off. Sometimes, it could be the way people act, or dress – it might even be people that I don’t know but I might find something interesting in them. It’s all in the moment.

My best experience as an artist? Hard to choose just one; I had so many diverse opportunities. Having my first book accepted was amazing. Then the second followed and it was great; I enjoyed listening to the other people performing on the launching night. I am still very proud of being published in the “Best Australian Poems”. I loved getting a grant and focusing on my work. Another great experience was working with David Stavanger.

Andrew’s second book, “For all the Veronicas (The Dog Who Staid)” has been recently published by Bareknuckles Books.  His poems were celebrated with the participation of many artists on a special launch night at the Ainslie and Gorman Arts Centres. Naturally, I wanted to know his feelings; how does one really feel, seeing his work coming to life?

“I feel proud. I have confidence in my book. Seeing that a lot of other people have confidence in it too, that feels really good.”

I wasn’t surprised to find out that he has a degree in classical literature but as a bookworm myself, I was curious what is Andrew’s favourite book. It is a question I ask all my sitters, as this gives me a better chance to get to know them through a common passion for reading. I loved the answer, because in a way, it continues a dystopian path, started from his teenage years, reading Judge Dredd.

- It changes from time to time. I really love “Crash” by J.G. Ballard because he is my favourite author.  I like a whole range of his writing; his autobiography is amazing.
My favourite book is Ray Bradbury’s “Fahrenheit 451”.

This was a 2-part sitting that involved a bit of preparation from my side, as I wasn’t very familiar with Andrew, or with his work. But I feel honoured for having met him and grateful for his participation in the project.
Before parting our ways and finishing the sitting, I asked Andrew to let me read his favourite poem, “The Sun Falls on Zero”. It is a great, visual piece and while his portraits are black and white, I took with me lots of colours, just from a first read.

Many thanks to Superfine Café for allowing us to have our photo shoot in their premises.

 

The Seeker

"I dream to dream the next dream within that dream"

 

He sings. He writes. He takes some of the most amazing photographs I have seen. He is a scientist and yet an absolute poet. He’s hiding all these talents behind a 9 to 5 job, behind witty words play and sometimes even behind some clever dad jokes. He doesn’t open up easily but if you take time to really get to know him, he can be ever so surprising.

I have always believed that we are all born talented. It is therefore up to us to work on our skills and then watch it bloom. However, some people are lucky to have more than one call. Under the hat today, there is a very complex character; a man of many talents.

I have no memory of what I wanted to be as a young child. I recall the warmth of home and the love of family, so I guess looking back I wanted to keep that feeling of love.
I recall a story called Tikki Tikki Tembo that I liked. My mum used to read me Winnie the Pooh and would refer to me as Christopher Robin - I remember that. I liked to play more than read.

Coming out of high school, I wanted to be an ornithologist or naturalist. I was getting hooked on climbing and exploring the bush. I wanted to be self-sufficient and live off the land by foraging. As a result, I started to study about plants and wild foods and anything to do with thriving outdoors, like understanding weather. I also liked playing in garage bands and wanted to be like Joe Strummer or Jim Moginie or Jaz Coleman. I was pretty darn angry with the world at that time. I hated to see people chopping down trees and wasting so much. I hated all that excess around me. It was in high school that I busked with my guitar and had the courage (for the first time ever in my life) to sing a song I wrote. It was called “Don’t Wreck the Trees” it went like this:

Don’t wreck the trees they give me oxygen to breathe
Any forest standing proud and tall will move a man
And make him small
Don’t wreck the trees
Don’t wreck the trees.

My dream back then was to shake people out of what was looking like a dull, vacuous and programmed way of living. I wanted to find the words to say “there’s more to life than what you are currently doing”. Then I realised that no one is going to change, even if I shout at people. The only one I can change is me. Gradually, I lost the angry mood. I choose the “show, don’t tell” approach. I took people out bush, climbing, skiing, photographing. I thought that if I can take people out of what they were doing, getting them to spend time in the nature, they will finally start seeing things differently. Everything out there is so much simpler. Some may call this life style “primitive”; I think it’s more advanced and it has more purpose. Taking people away from the self-made structures (i.e. houses, compounds, cities) is part of my dream. Sometimes everything leads out to the nature but lots of people wonder what they are meant to do. This is profound in its own way; in my experience, I find that I don’t need to explain it; people will find what meaning they need. Many a times, passionate people told me “hey, you took me on my first climb” or first photography lesson, or first bush walk. It is something I can relate fondly; a couple of teachers took me out in high school; it’s my way of paying it forward.

I dunno who I am now; it’s not a question I ask myself. I reflect on things but not really on “who” I am. I don’t feel the need to “be” someone - generally because that feels fixed and a category. I change daily, because I grow daily, so to say who I am now is really going to change tomorrow. Let’s say I’m a learner of life. Being alive is pretty cool. I gotta say; it’s pretty awesome to wake up. I mean wake up each day from slumber, and also wake up each day to more of what’s going on. I like to see things afresh and see things anew and in that, I find meaning and look for the purpose of things. I like that. Everything has its purpose - and finding it is what really interests me.
I don’t set goals, nothing is absolute. I like variety, I like being unpredictable.

My innermost dream is to dream the next dream within that. As Poe once said - “Is all that we see or seem but a dream within a dream?”
I guess my dream is to grow. Trees don’t spend time thinking about things; they just grow.
Some dreams are meant to be shared, some are meant to be quiet. Everyone has a secret dream – some people choose to confess it, some keep it close to their heart. It’s a hat of many dreams, not just one.
I don’t think of future as in timelines. The future is unwritten and it doesn’t have a form for me. Despite the plans of others, I hope to be still doing what I love.

I wouldn’t like those 15 minutes of fame; I’d hand them back. I’d rather make a difference than have fame. Most fame comes from things that have little purpose. Fame is in the hands of those that determine it. I’d rather not let someone determine my fate or cast me as a hero in their play. My approach is like a bird flying across the sky - it leaves no trace that it was there, but its wingbeats change the weather. I don’t have a soap box; I am just disappointed in the way we collectively work. I’d rather walk away. There really is no fame left. The internet just homogenised anything noteworthy and anything that truly is worthy of recognition happens away from the spotlight.

I have a lot of heroes from when I was young. It’s weird because several people have said to me over the years that I have been a role model for them. It’s a great question because it makes me ask myself what role do I aspire to perform in the play of life and who would be someone that plays a role I could use as a reference. I’ve come to learn that life is more ad lib and improvisation; but as long as I remember what my true character is, I can at least play a bit part or just fold up seats after the performance. Like the fame bit, I’d rather not be on stage. We are all acting under social expectations and pressures. We are whole, but we get fragmented – much like a puzzle where all the pieces have been separated. It’s a cruel trick we play on others and on ourselves; trying to piece the puzzle back together. A puzzle is an artificial construction; if you look around in the nature, there are no pieces, no separation. That is why I spend so much time in the bush. There are no constraints; no puzzles.

In terms of role models, there’s not really anyone in the limelight that’s of any appeal to me. The good ones are busy behind the scenes getting on with stuff. People who get on with things, despite their setbacks, shortcomings or challenges are my role models.

My favourite book is Tao De Ching. The Art of Getting Lost by Rebecca Solnit is a book I enjoyed reading, PataPhysical Essays by Daumal is a bit of a challenge for me at the moment. I have about 7 books on the go at the same time. I’m really finding the internet is becoming like the “in brief” section of the newspaper. I like independent documentary. 

I always ask my sitters where is the place where they feel at peace, a place where masks can fall, free of any social expectation. I was - yet I wasn’t - surprised by the answer.

Asleep. We are bombarded daily with so many messages, on every level. Sleep is sacred; it’s the time when I can let go; it’s just me and my quiet mind. I can sleep pretty much anywhere. The best sleeps I have are when I’m actually on the bare ground. It’s how we’re meant to sleep, naturally. I can dream there and take a break. I feel most “me” there. My special place is the whole Earth.
We think we are at some kind of pinnacle, that we are so clever, so super advanced. (Pointing to the power lines above the grasslands) – That power line over there is actually quite rudimentary, compared to nature. (Pointing to the grasslands) - The energy going through this ecosystem is way more advanced. Look inside a leaf – the trees can capture more energy from the sun than we can make. The Earth receives in just one hour more energy from the Sun than the world’s population uses in a whole year.

Given our common love of trees, I asked Chris to tell me something I didn’t know about them.

Trees can draw water in a mysterious way higher and faster than any known engineering feat. Scientists still can’t solve how a tree 100m tall can draw water up that high. Trees control the weather around them. People think the rainforest grew there because of the rain but it’s the trees that create the rain. Sadly they take as long as we do to mature, but we grow them in rows and chop them up, all the while forgetting without them we couldn’t breathe. We’d never grow humans in rows and then chop them down, would we?

Naturally, I wanted to know about how the creative process works for Chris, what motivates him, what wows him and whether solitude is an important part of the creation. Or peace. Does finding peace equal finding a creative path? These are questions the Chris himself has previously asked other artists in his series of creative tweets. They are questions I personally found very helpful in analysing my own creative flow.

I don’t actually feel motivated. Strangely, I feel at peace and fulfilled when I am doing what I love, which is responding to creative urges and expressions. To me, motivation looks like getting the courage to run up the hill to get to the top. For me getting up the hill is actually the fun bit, so I don’t find I need a reason or some “push” to motivate me. I keep me going. I don’t need to understand where that drive comes from inside. I just get on with it. Maybe I’m different to most, but I’d do it anyway, so trying to keep going is not really a challenge I have had to face. I can appreciate for some people that may be really challenging.  I treat my thoughts as creative urges; our thoughts become our actions, using a language to converse. Lots of people seem to think creativity is this magical, inventive dimension. Truth is, everyone creates, in many ways – some are not even conscious. Making a mess, destroying the planet is just as creative, only on a different level.

How do I find inspiration for my creative process? I just breathe… Our entropy is so highly disturbed that technically we should not be able to exist. But we do anyway. For instance, everyone is wowed that lizards can grow a new tail. We are left wondering how come we cannot grow limbs. The truth is - we do. We are growing from the very first moment of our existence; we grow our limbs a few times from what we started with. We do grow, only in a different way – this, to me, is a creative act.

In art, what wows me is not the output, it’s the input. I’m touched by people’s process rather than the final work. The object of the art to me is just the way we’ve fashioned our creativity and creative urge into something that has form. People do the same thing with cooking, or economics, or bricklaying. We’re curious, creative beings. We create a lot of useless mess and pain, but we shape things around us into various forms, and art is but one of them. Sometimes I go “wow, why did they blow up that city?” as evil as that may be, there is an art to every step of that process of bombing a city. Even destructive acts take the same creative process as art. So it’s the process that touches me - and not always in a happy way. If I fail to recognise the full potential of the creative process, then I am not taking a conscious path or being responsible for what I create.  

I seek solitude in crowds. I spend as much time as I can in the bush to be in nature, but you are never alone out there. In a crowd I find that people are rarely aware of where they are, they act in unison, so by immersing myself in that and then tuning out, I find great solitude. Quiet is only inside my head. I do a very clumsy and ill-conceived version of meditation. I lack all the refinements of thousands of years of sitting up straight and motionless. I would be the very worst student in a Zen school for meditation simply because I have no idea how to chase their butterflies or elusive techniques, so I just find my own quiet and just stop thinking. I find that quiet is not linked to my creativity. My creativity is very haphazard and impulsive. On other days it is very structured. Then, as soon as I think I have some kind of process, I just mess it up to see what else happens. Even I find myself impossible to work with! I just learn to accept what comes when it comes. I haven’t found peace in my creativity. Most likely because I am still at war with it and trying to subvert or control it, or because I am finding it is just a point in time along the way to somewhere else.

I don’t know what peace means; thoughts can be disruptive as well as peaceful. I get floods of thoughts when I meditate. Creation and destruction are often in the same circle – for instance if I make a flower arrangement, it is a creative act because I made something aesthetically pleasing. It is also a destructive act, because I picked the flowers from their environment.

Chris has been judging art – particularly photography and short film - for many years; I asked him about his chain of thoughts when being a judge.

First, I try to turn off all prejudices, judgmental opinions and I try to look at the work as best as I can; I try to imagine it through the eye of the person creating it. I learn more this way. I picture more by articulating what you see when looking at it the first time and after. A lot of judges go by the first reactions and don’t articulate on their response. I keep being asked to go back and judge again; I don’t particularly like the judging process but it’s a great privilege, to comment on other people’s work. In photography, when judging amateur contests, I try to stand in their shoes, find their way point and see if I can understand their walk path. At the higher end, when we talk professional photography, I look at it a bit differently, taking in consideration technical aspects, creativity, as well as the impression or the message I get from their work. I tend to be harsher on people who call themselves professionals; they can communicate and show a very high standard. For other images and short film, I don’t discount the passion – it is probably worth more than the technical value. I draw upon my own journey; how I felt the first time I took an image. That, to me is what judging is all about; an attempt to feel what they felt; there is no other way to understand their art.

Expanding on another one of his creative tweets, I wanted to know how his images would translate into music. What kind of beat, melody and mood would they have?

They would probably be like a piece of music called 4’33’’ by John Cage. (a totally silent piece). It’s like producing a nice, big rectangular piece of marble and call it a statue. Am I willing to shape it or leave it alone? In the end, it’s about really listening and one makes out of it what they make. Anything you look at or listen to is meant to stimulate people’s senses, make them experience something, think about it. It’s a sensory thing in the end and all I am asking is “listen. Really listen”.

He doesn’t talk about it, but his images are on many public exhibits and some travelled around the world, in personal collections. His most recent participation in a public exhibition is at Canberra Museum and Art Gallery’s “Bush Capital: The Natural History of the ACT”.
Another question I really wanted to ask was “what do you love to create images of the most”?

The images I create the most of are very mundane. The ones I love to create the most are the mundane ones that show me something in the mundane. Mundane or ordinary are just another category we humans have made to sit alongside “wow” or “stunning” or “moving”. I’m still looking for the first edition of the book that defines how images go into these categories? Who wrote it? Does it exist? We all seem to know it off by heart as we judge and interpret imagery, but we fail to stop and ask what any of it means and how we got here.  So to answer the question honestly, I love to create any image the most. I keep doing it. Looking for something. Probably meaning. My approach is to let the images free and permit them to find their own path. That way others can find their response and that becomes a shared responsibility for them. Like leaves from an autumn tree, there are many I have done and let’s be realistic, the world is piling on imagery at a rate faster than any time in history, so they are destined to end up in the great heap, but at least I can quietly reflect that I have a few in that litter!

Chris is a very complex artist and I wanted to know what makes him vibrate the most; making images, his music or his writing.

They usually go together. Vibration – that’s a good word - they all have it – images, music and words. Vibration is where energy interacts with matters. I am choosing my own very clumsy and crude way, giving form through human invention to something already existing. If there were no photography, music or words, I’d probably be using my eyes and ears better. A camera is a fine device, but so crude, compared to what the eye can do. Likewise, music is made of composed thoughts. You hear lots of sounds out in the nature – the sound of the birds, winds. String instruments are a crude way of imitating it. Years ago, I went to a Japanese drumming performance. The frequencies are so different and the range of pitches went from deep to high. I was told after that it was an alternative medicine; all those different frequencies were meant to align the energy chakras aligned. 

Speaking of music, Chris has been quietly working on his musical skills along the years. I was amazed at the fact that he plays 5 instruments.

I don’t really play the instruments. Harvey (Welsh - composer, songwriter, bandmate and friend) shared with me that you only need to know 5 notes, to play an instrument. And so the fun began…

The youngest I would have been was probably when singing in church (I was brought up in a very musical church and I loved the singing bit) - it actually taught me a lot about music because I started to listen and try to separate out and hear all the bits. I sang in the school choir too and then around late high school I started playing and performing in front of others.
It wasn’t until many years later after a really long hiatus that I played in front of a big crowd; the biggest was in front of about 30,000 people on live TV - but others were maybe 3-5000 people. The hardest gigs of all are in front of only a few people - they eye contact and intimacy really makes you to concentrate more. And relax. At the same time.

 

My biggest regret?
I guess I’ve learned to let go of a lot of things and practice my best attempt at the idea of non-attachment. However most of the things I attach to are like Velcro and once they a pried from my grip or I attempt to let them go, they tend to stick.
I regret not telling more people how much they have inspired, supported and mentored me. My greatest mentors are the people who foolishly think I know more than them about something. I learn so much more from people who see me as some kind of expert than I learn from so called experts.
There is a humility that precedes all learning, so I guess people often see me as a goof ball, or playing the fool or somehow diminishing what they see as achievements. I see the approach to the learning and the act of doing as far greater than the outcome and supposed rewards. There is little I have ever learned from achievement itself, but there is much I have learned from endeavour and practice.
Humility and gratitude are the keys to learning great things from others – it’s how knowledge is conferred and it is sadly lacking in today’s culture where professing is seen as a measure of success and intelligence. So I regret that I have not thanked enough people I should have for the opportunity they shared to learn with and from them.

Modesty is the word that characterizes Chris the most. Asked how he would like to be viewed or remembered as an artist, his answer was this:
Credit: photographer unknown.