I remember my first contact with Aboriginal art. It was in 1989, during my first visit to Australia. The halls of the National Gallery in Canberra, the most important in the country, resembled bunkers and did not arouse my admiration. Back then, it was a completely different way of displaying works of art than the one I knew from, among others, Krakow. Alix and Kerry dragged me to the Indigenous Australian art section.
– So how do you like it? – they asked.
I was a dilettante on this topic.
- It doesn't bother me at all, I replied.
I considered primitive paintings made by people who did not know perspective and had problems with proportions to be bohemian. As if all these works were painted by children. Even the dotted and lined background of paintings painted on tree bark did not catch my eye back then, although I had certainly never seen such space filling before. Failure.
I considered primitive paintings made by people who did not know perspective and had problems with proportions to be bohemian. As if all these works were painted by children. Even the dotted and lined background of paintings painted on tree bark did not catch my eye back then, although I had certainly never seen such space filling before. Failure.
At least that's how I felt at the time, although I realized that I lacked cultural context, placing this art in the landscape, and I had very little idea about Indigenous Australians. I came to my senses a few months later when I was traveling by bus through the middle of Australia. The first contacts with the desert, with the ubiquitous spinifex grass, and with Aborigines allowed me to revise my views. However, it was a slow process.