THE GOOD
The Good is the culmination of Western Australian artist Anna Louise Richardson’s explorations into her layered relationships with the natural world, coloured by love, loss and the complexities of nurturing new life as a young mother, while living on her family’s multi-generational farm on Whadjuk Nyoongar Boodja (Country).
Working primarily in large scale drawing Richardson’s work depicts familiar and domestic objects that reverberate meaning and reflect moments of connection for her and her family – pillow stacks, daisy chains, beef carcasses, ingredients for cooking, the products of the farm and the objects necessary for survival in a rural context.
Just as Richardson considers ‘the good’, the concept of ‘good’ exists in all cultures. It is both a quality and recognition of a moral order, of what is right or true – its presence necessary to a functioning and harmonious society. The meaning of ‘good’ is amplified where it is absent from our world, and where the play of its opposite; that which is bad, injurious or false is present. Richardson finds not only the good where some would find the bad, her artwork strives towards beauty, light and wonder. In a world increasingly defined by division and hardship, Richardson’s work points to the necessary act of radical optimism needed to seek goodness in all things.
In recognising that The Good arises from the circumstance and particularity of Anna Louise Richardson’s family life upon a working farm, thoughts must turn to the acknowledgement of certain truths; that we live, make our private lives and share our loves on unceded Aboriginal land. For non-Aboriginal people this circumstance marks often unacknowledged privilege. Fences alone do not alienate land from people. Each corner of this country is known to Aboriginal people. It has been walked upon, its stories told and sung. It has and continues to be deeply loved and cared for.
The Good is both catalyst and opportunity for audiences across the country to explore what the ‘good’ means within the lives of individuals, families and communities.
-Rachel Arndt & Dr Lee-Anne Hall
Working primarily in large scale drawing Richardson’s work depicts familiar and domestic objects that reverberate meaning and reflect moments of connection for her and her family – pillow stacks, daisy chains, beef carcasses, ingredients for cooking, the products of the farm and the objects necessary for survival in a rural context.
Just as Richardson considers ‘the good’, the concept of ‘good’ exists in all cultures. It is both a quality and recognition of a moral order, of what is right or true – its presence necessary to a functioning and harmonious society. The meaning of ‘good’ is amplified where it is absent from our world, and where the play of its opposite; that which is bad, injurious or false is present. Richardson finds not only the good where some would find the bad, her artwork strives towards beauty, light and wonder. In a world increasingly defined by division and hardship, Richardson’s work points to the necessary act of radical optimism needed to seek goodness in all things.
In recognising that The Good arises from the circumstance and particularity of Anna Louise Richardson’s family life upon a working farm, thoughts must turn to the acknowledgement of certain truths; that we live, make our private lives and share our loves on unceded Aboriginal land. For non-Aboriginal people this circumstance marks often unacknowledged privilege. Fences alone do not alienate land from people. Each corner of this country is known to Aboriginal people. It has been walked upon, its stories told and sung. It has and continues to be deeply loved and cared for.
The Good is both catalyst and opportunity for audiences across the country to explore what the ‘good’ means within the lives of individuals, families and communities.
-Rachel Arndt & Dr Lee-Anne Hall
TOURING SCHEDULE
Touring nationally with Museums & Galleries of NSW:
The Condensery | Somerset Regional Art Gallery, QLD
22 July- 1 October 2023
Granville Centre Art Gallery, NSW
29 November 2023 – 18 February 2024
Wagga Wagga Art Gallery, NSW
18 March – 23 June 2024
Wangaratta Art Gallery, VIC
29 June- 11 August 2024
Warrnambool Art Gallery, VIC
16 August – 17 November 2024
Manning Regional Art Gallery, Taree, NSW
28 November – 18 January 2025
Mudgee Arts Precinct, NSW
31 January – 23 March 2025
Tamworth Regional Gallery, NSW
5 April – 8 June 2025
ArtGeo Cultural Complex, Busselton, WA
25 July- 14 September 2025
Albany Town Hall Gallery, WA
26 September – 2 November 2025
Bunbury Regional Art Gallery, WA
15 November 2025 – 15 February 2026
The Condensery | Somerset Regional Art Gallery, QLD
22 July- 1 October 2023
Granville Centre Art Gallery, NSW
29 November 2023 – 18 February 2024
Wagga Wagga Art Gallery, NSW
18 March – 23 June 2024
Wangaratta Art Gallery, VIC
29 June- 11 August 2024
Warrnambool Art Gallery, VIC
16 August – 17 November 2024
Manning Regional Art Gallery, Taree, NSW
28 November – 18 January 2025
Mudgee Arts Precinct, NSW
31 January – 23 March 2025
Tamworth Regional Gallery, NSW
5 April – 8 June 2025
ArtGeo Cultural Complex, Busselton, WA
25 July- 14 September 2025
Albany Town Hall Gallery, WA
26 September – 2 November 2025
Bunbury Regional Art Gallery, WA
15 November 2025 – 15 February 2026
ARTWORKS
This video resource was filmed at The Condensery in Toogoolawah QLD.
Pillows, 2023, graphite on paper, 77×55cm, 82.5×63×4cm framed.
After the loss of my mother in 2020 and the isolation of COVID 19 I began my search for the good, looking for comfort in the world around me. This work began with that motivation. An endless pile of soft cushions to fall into, support me and cocoon within. |
Good egg, 2023, charcoal on cement fibreboard, 50x37x3cm.
When we have to buy eggs from the shop, such is the fear of salmonella or contamination, we open the cardboard cartons to check if any eggs are cracked or seeping. At home, with our own chickens, things are different. If we drop or crack an egg when we are collecting them, it’s still ok, we know the origin of the egg and its lifespan. We just crack it into a glass or box and put into the fridge for later. “Good egg” is also a phrase I love and use regularly to describe people. |
Capeweed, 2023, charcoal on cement fibreboard, 182x115x3cm.
In spring the farm turns yellow, especially round the houses and firebreaks where daisies or Capeweed flourish on the bare ground. A noxious weed that aggressively spreads, it is also beautiful, providing golden paddock backdrops in photos of the kids, and the daisy chains we love to make and wear. Synonymous with many areas of countryside, in springtime these seasonal weeds polarise farming communities. They sometimes devastate crop yields, but also have a place as most weeds do, in covering bare ground and providing dry fodder for grazing animals. The health risk Capeweed poses when the only feed available, must be controlled with grazing management in a healthy pasture ecosystem. 44 gallon drum, 2023, charcoal on cement fibreboard, 100x60x3cm.
The steel 44 gallon drum is a staple of rural life, waterproof, sturdy and endlessly useful for stock feed, horse tack, and other storage. A mini shipping container in some way - what the drum once transported, its origin, purpose or the danger it presents is no longer known or decipherable from the markings on the drum. On the farm they are completely rewritten into a new life. Sprout, 2023, graphite on paper, 152x101x5.5cm, 157x106.5x5.5cm framed.
The forgotten potato at the back of the cupboard works its quiet magic. Rather than rotting along with the lost onion it makes the most of its situation and sprouts ready for new life. Seed potato or not, I will chance my luck and plant it. Top banana, 2023 , charcoal on cement fibreboard, 70x127x3cm.
Bananas either get eaten straight away in our house or languish on the bench until they turn into golden possibility: pancakes, Jemput Jemput (fried banana balls) or banana bread. Never judge a book or banana by its cover. Windfall, 2023, charcoal on cement fibreboard, 65x38x3cm.
The sweetest passionfruit are the wrinkly deep purple ones that we find lying on the ground in the chook pen surrounded by chook poo. These ugly little nuggets are sliced open to reveal the perfect golden goodness inside. Tyres, 2023, charcoal on cement fibreboard, 99x85x3cm.
We have a collection of old tyres on the farm which have been salvaged from old farm cars which are no longer fixable, but are kept for possible parts they might provide in an endless loop of second-hand runabouts that all come with their own tyres. So, the tyre pile grows, with the occasional bald tyre put in service to protect our fruit trees from the chooks. Fly swat, 2023, charcoal on cement fibreboard, 48x170x3cm.
Flies are a mainstay of farming life. There are many kinds that proliferate at different times of year, depending on if there are cows in the yards or around the house, or if there is rain and heat or food around. Most despised is the blowfly. On the farm all the windows and doors have flyscreens, and the refrain “shut the door” is common in our house especially when city guests visit and courteously hold the door open. Cheap red and yellow plastic fly swats are an abiding memory of childhood - there was one in every room. At night my sister and I were often awoken by a massive thwack from my parent’s bedroom upstairs as they did away with a blowfly or mozzie with the trusty fly swat. A tradition I proudly continue with my kids today. This work explores the value of this inexpensive, environmentally unfriendly item used for killing things which have a place and value in the wider ecosystem. Without flies there would be so much poo and no food for the birds and lizards that eat them, but on the other hand flies spread disease, maggots, drive herds mad with biting and are a complete nuisance. |
Stock pot, 2023, charcoal on cement fibreboard, 90x114x3cm.
The stock pot is an object of magic. You put in what could be classed as waste: carrot tops, veggie peelings, meatless bones, carcasses of roast chooks, all manner of things, all squirrelled away in bags in the freezer until a critical mass is met and the witches brew is concocted. Simmering away for hours the pot yields jars and jars of stock. When depleted of all their goodness, the bones go into the compost to feed the garden. The stock pot makes circular magic for us and magic for the garden, which feeds back into the next stock pot. In some ways making stock is a metaphor for farm life: sometimes a pile of discarded objects are the secret ingredients for the task at hand. Container, 2023, charcoal on cement fibreboard, 228x240x3cm.
Most of the farms in our area have old shipping containers variously functioning as a kind of rural garage for storing furniture, household goods, spare floorboards, books, old beds, camping gear, farm supplies and things that might be useful or important that don’t belong in the workshop. My family is the seventh generation on the same property and every household has their own container. To me they represent a holding space for generational knowledge, everything put in there must have been important, even if I no longer have the key to understanding why or what an item is for. They are also space for infinite possibility, if we need something my first port of call is to look in the container. I am always optimistic I will find exactly what I need in the container, especially if I have seen something once or have a memory of it, it must still be here. Carcass, 2019, charcoal on cement fibreboard, 233x90x3cm.
We raise beef cattle on the farm, and for years we didn’t eat our own meat. A fabled family story recalls the night my older sister was born when my parents were packing meat from a cow they butchered. I don’t know why but it was many years passed until the next animal we raised was to be eaten. Now as adults living on the farm again, my sister and I highly value the cows as beautiful creatures, business, and a delicious feast for our families. I have a rule that you can’t eat an animal you’ve named. This work is about Sundae, the poddy calf we raised for Dad, that received a record price at the cattle sale. We exchanged Sundae for a smaller unnamed animal to eat from the herd. Right gumboot, 2023, charcoal on cement fibreboard, 95x85x3cm.
When you become an adult on the farm you have one size of gumboot for life. When it leaks, a mouse eats the toe, or some other calamity befalls one of the pair (it is always only one) it must be replaced. The problem is that you have to buy gumboots in pairs, so the ‘still good’ solo boot goes into the cupboard just in case next time the other boot wears out first. All the women in my family have the same size boots, so sometimes we get lucky, and a generational pairing occurs. Two shovels, 2023, charcoal on cement fibreboard, 212×30x3cm & 138x28×3cm.
Shovels and spades hold the promise of work, dirt and garden joy. During the warm months of each year, we prop two good shovels by the back door and sometimes a pair of gumboots. All within easy reach for when unwelcome guests of the slithery kind come to visit. |
Photo: Bo Wong
EDUCATION & ENGAGEMENT
A making activity aimed at early learners to accompany Anna Louise Richardson | The Good.
AUDIO DESCRIPTION
This audio description for The Good, read by the artist Anna Louise Richardson, provides descriptive and creative insight into the themes of the show and the works on display. This recording was produced by Jim Filmer, Filmertography.
RESOURCEs
CLICK HERE FOR THE CATALOGUE OF WORKS
CLICK HERE TO FIND OUT MORE ABOUT THE TOUR
CLICK HERE FOR EDUCATION RESOURCE
CLICK HERE FOR MEDIATION HANDBOOK
CLICK HERE TO FIND OUT MORE ABOUT THE TOUR
CLICK HERE FOR EDUCATION RESOURCE
CLICK HERE FOR MEDIATION HANDBOOK
Curated by Rachel Arndt & Dr Lee-Anne Hall. A Wagga Wagga Art Gallery, The Condensery and Museums & Galleries of NSW touring exhibition. This project was made possible by the Australian Government’s Regional Arts Fund, which supports the arts in regional and remote Australia, Government of Western Australia through the Department, Culture and the Arts (WA) and Australian Government through the Australia Council, its arts funding and advisory body.