STILL WATCHING
Still Watching embodies experiences of observation in the natural world. The feeling of watching, but also of being watched, a hard-to- describe sensation that often comes when we are within landscapes that dwarf us, or in the darkness of night.
For artist couple, Anna Louise Richardson and Abdul-Rahman Abdullah, these sensations, which sit beyond the logical and explainable, form part of their collective everyday. Together, along with their three children, they share space and time with animals (both native and introduced); living and working on a pastoral property in the Peel region. Their practices try to make sense of their place within a larger network of relationships, locations, and histories in regional Western Australia.
Embracing both the magical thinking of childhood and the pragmatism of raising a young family in a rural environment, Still Watching articulates the artists’ personal lore, revealing their relationships with the natural world and the meaning they make of moments in the worlds they create and occupy.
Through a selection of works that span almost a decade, Still Watching surveys Richardson and Abdullah’s practices, exploring rituals of
life and death, love and loss, memory and myth. Charting physical, psychological, emotional, and spiritual terrain, the exhibition reveals the artists’ realities, their dreams and their nightmares, while positing the questions who is watching, and who is being watched?
Curated by Glenn Iseger-Pilkington and the artists.
Fremantle Arts Centre, Perth, WA.
5 Nov 2022 - 23 Jan 2023.
MEET THE ARTISTS
For artist couple, Anna Louise Richardson and Abdul-Rahman Abdullah, these sensations, which sit beyond the logical and explainable, form part of their collective everyday. Together, along with their three children, they share space and time with animals (both native and introduced); living and working on a pastoral property in the Peel region. Their practices try to make sense of their place within a larger network of relationships, locations, and histories in regional Western Australia.
Embracing both the magical thinking of childhood and the pragmatism of raising a young family in a rural environment, Still Watching articulates the artists’ personal lore, revealing their relationships with the natural world and the meaning they make of moments in the worlds they create and occupy.
Through a selection of works that span almost a decade, Still Watching surveys Richardson and Abdullah’s practices, exploring rituals of
life and death, love and loss, memory and myth. Charting physical, psychological, emotional, and spiritual terrain, the exhibition reveals the artists’ realities, their dreams and their nightmares, while positing the questions who is watching, and who is being watched?
Curated by Glenn Iseger-Pilkington and the artists.
Fremantle Arts Centre, Perth, WA.
5 Nov 2022 - 23 Jan 2023.
MEET THE ARTISTS
Abdul-Rahman Abdullah, Same Time Tomorrow, 2020 painted wood, collar, chain, 60 x 110 x 150cm
Private collection of Tim and Chris Unger
Same time tomorrow was created in response to the limitations presented by 2020, a time when domesticity and the home became the focal point of lives in lockdown. Trevor was Abdullah’s pet goat at the time, and while Trevor’s life was unaffected, the ritual of his daily visits became an anchor point for a routine defined by limitations. Abdullah found solace in that daily rhythm. Sometimes everything a person needs has always been within easy reach.
‘This work questions ideas of limitations and perspective. We become aware of the limitations of our own world when we enter the world of another.’
Abdul-Rahman Abdullah
Private collection of Tim and Chris Unger
Same time tomorrow was created in response to the limitations presented by 2020, a time when domesticity and the home became the focal point of lives in lockdown. Trevor was Abdullah’s pet goat at the time, and while Trevor’s life was unaffected, the ritual of his daily visits became an anchor point for a routine defined by limitations. Abdullah found solace in that daily rhythm. Sometimes everything a person needs has always been within easy reach.
‘This work questions ideas of limitations and perspective. We become aware of the limitations of our own world when we enter the world of another.’
Abdul-Rahman Abdullah
Anna Louise Richardson, You are always here, sometimes too close (magpie), 2022, charcoal on cement fibreboard, 117 x 87cm
Anna Louise Richardson, Am I being told off (butcherbird), 2022, charcoal on cement fibreboard, 97 x 123cm
Richardson’s practice explores life and death, with animals employed as the protagonist of these stories. She has historically explored the roles animal play culturally, commercially and their ecological impacts. More recently depictions speak to personal tragedy with the passing of her mum in 2020.
After her mum’s passing, Richardson was visited by birds, which she felt were like visitations from her mum. She kept notes and drew these birds of prey, at a large scale, their eyes turned to look to us, creating the preternatural sensation of being watched. They are also as a reminder of the connection she felt to her mother through these visitations.
Richardson’s practice explores life and death, with animals employed as the protagonist of these stories. She has historically explored the roles animal play culturally, commercially and their ecological impacts. More recently depictions speak to personal tragedy with the passing of her mum in 2020.
After her mum’s passing, Richardson was visited by birds, which she felt were like visitations from her mum. She kept notes and drew these birds of prey, at a large scale, their eyes turned to look to us, creating the preternatural sensation of being watched. They are also as a reminder of the connection she felt to her mother through these visitations.
Anna Louise Richardson, On the hunt, 2017, charcoal, acrylic, pastel and glow in the dark acrylic on cement fibreboard, 215 x 345cm
On the hunt, like many of Richardson’s works, reflects the places our minds go when we have a response to fear. The creatures and situations that fill our imaginations when we are scared can feed into grand stories and tall tales that become our version of history.
Certain areas of wilderness become home to these creatures, their stories and are shared across generations. They become ingrained as part of our identities, informing our sense of who we are and our lore.
Myths and tales appear in lore globally, and while some of them may have originally emerged from sightings of real animals, their power grows with our fears and through sharing tales about them. On the hunt explores the myth and mystery of large feline creatures stalking rural areas, stories shared widely around the world.
On the hunt, like many of Richardson’s works, reflects the places our minds go when we have a response to fear. The creatures and situations that fill our imaginations when we are scared can feed into grand stories and tall tales that become our version of history.
Certain areas of wilderness become home to these creatures, their stories and are shared across generations. They become ingrained as part of our identities, informing our sense of who we are and our lore.
Myths and tales appear in lore globally, and while some of them may have originally emerged from sightings of real animals, their power grows with our fears and through sharing tales about them. On the hunt explores the myth and mystery of large feline creatures stalking rural areas, stories shared widely around the world.
Anna Louise Richardson, I asked for a sign (wedge-tailed eagle), 2022, charcoal on cement fibreboard, 202 x 126cm
Abdul-Rahman Abdullah, Pair, 2022, painted wood and wool (fleece by Golden Wattle Hookers), 115 x 150 x 60cm each & 115 x 150 x 60cm
Loan from the private collection of Martin Ryan. Artwork originally commissioned by West Space (Melbourne, Victoria) for Watching, 2022, with additional support from Regional Arts WA, through the Regional Artist Fellowship
Some animals slip through the agricultural system as neither pets or livestock, left to adapt and grow old. Pair is based on two resident sheep, who live on the family farm, and whose lives are focused on both seeking out and fleeing human interaction as they become unkempt masses of wool.
This work reimagines the sheep’s interactions with the artist’s children, the curiosity that gravitates each towards the other, marked by panic once an invisible threshold is crossed. There is a vividly mutual recognition of the monstrous ‘other’ between the sheep and the children, a curiosity and judgement that mirrors human behaviour in broader society.
Loan from the private collection of Martin Ryan. Artwork originally commissioned by West Space (Melbourne, Victoria) for Watching, 2022, with additional support from Regional Arts WA, through the Regional Artist Fellowship
Some animals slip through the agricultural system as neither pets or livestock, left to adapt and grow old. Pair is based on two resident sheep, who live on the family farm, and whose lives are focused on both seeking out and fleeing human interaction as they become unkempt masses of wool.
This work reimagines the sheep’s interactions with the artist’s children, the curiosity that gravitates each towards the other, marked by panic once an invisible threshold is crossed. There is a vividly mutual recognition of the monstrous ‘other’ between the sheep and the children, a curiosity and judgement that mirrors human behaviour in broader society.
Anna Louise Richardson, What am I gathering (crow), 2022, charcoal on cement fibreboard, 132 x 90cm
Anna Louise Richardson, Post, 2015, conte on cement fibreboard on hollow core door, 204 x 348cm
Post recalls memories of driving through paddocks at night, where the only obstacle in that expanse is a fence post looming in the darkness.
The work was created in response to uncertainties of losing generational knowledge and reflects on the transformative nature of darkness, the artist’s fear of the dark, and the way that our knowledge of place in daylight is rendered as redundant in hours of darkness.
Post recalls memories of driving through paddocks at night, where the only obstacle in that expanse is a fence post looming in the darkness.
The work was created in response to uncertainties of losing generational knowledge and reflects on the transformative nature of darkness, the artist’s fear of the dark, and the way that our knowledge of place in daylight is rendered as redundant in hours of darkness.
Anna Louise Richardson, Are you waiting for me (owl), 2022, charcoal on cement fibreboard, 131 x 75cm
Anna Louise Richardson, Little big rock, 2018, charcoal on cement fibreboard and board, 120 x 200cm
Little big rock is the reimagining of a meteor that was responsible for the creation of Dalgaranga crater. This is a tourist attraction in the Gascoyne and Australia’s smallest meteorite impact crater situated on Dalgaranga station, once occupied by Richardson’s family. The crater, which was recognised in 1921, is believed to have been created by a 20-tonne meteorite, although only 1kg of samples were ever found. It is believed that the samples were placed in a can and used as a doorstop for many years.
In this work, Richardson employs the rock and its implied crater as a metaphor for the dissolution of generational history in rural Australia, when families leave the farm, and with them their many stories.
Little big rock is the reimagining of a meteor that was responsible for the creation of Dalgaranga crater. This is a tourist attraction in the Gascoyne and Australia’s smallest meteorite impact crater situated on Dalgaranga station, once occupied by Richardson’s family. The crater, which was recognised in 1921, is believed to have been created by a 20-tonne meteorite, although only 1kg of samples were ever found. It is believed that the samples were placed in a can and used as a doorstop for many years.
In this work, Richardson employs the rock and its implied crater as a metaphor for the dissolution of generational history in rural Australia, when families leave the farm, and with them their many stories.
Abdul-Rahman Abdullah, The boy who couldn't sleep, 2017, painted wood, buffalo horn, 56 x 127 x 74cm
The boy who couldn’t sleep, embodies the universal experience of childhood nightmares, fears and phobias, presented as a self-portrait of sorts.
In this sculptural form, Abdullah recalls the impact of stories told by his older sister, stories of Djinn and other dark forces encountered in dreams, or within his imagination as he tried to fall asleep. One such story was of creatures so tall that their twisted horns would scrape along the ceiling down the hallway.
In this work, Abdullah recalls the coping strategy of embracing the thing you fear, to conquer fear itself, becoming the horned creature and in doing so stealing their capacity to haunt us.
The boy who couldn’t sleep, embodies the universal experience of childhood nightmares, fears and phobias, presented as a self-portrait of sorts.
In this sculptural form, Abdullah recalls the impact of stories told by his older sister, stories of Djinn and other dark forces encountered in dreams, or within his imagination as he tried to fall asleep. One such story was of creatures so tall that their twisted horns would scrape along the ceiling down the hallway.
In this work, Abdullah recalls the coping strategy of embracing the thing you fear, to conquer fear itself, becoming the horned creature and in doing so stealing their capacity to haunt us.
(front) Abdul-Rahman Abdullah, Maghrib, 2012, chandeleir, wood, rubber, steel, fixtures
(back) Abdul-Rahman Abdullah, Calendar, 2014, digital video projection, duration 1 minute (loop)
Calendar looks at the relevance of lunar cycles as a common basis of the Islamic, Buddhist and Hindu religious calendars. Stigmatised by Christian traditions, the moon has become synonymous with the other, associating lunar activity with base instinct, femininity, and the occult. For Muslim communities, the cycles of the moon inform the annual calendar. This defines the time of observance of Ramadan, the sacred month which occurs in the ninth month of the calendar and involves fasting, reflection and prayer. The full moon marks the mid- way point of Ramadan.
The moon is a repeated motif in Abdullah’s work, in different phases and creative modalities. Calendar was first displayed on the walls of Perth Mosque in 2014. Since then, it has featured in several of his recent exhibitions, as a symbol of Islam and the unstoppable passage of time.
(back) Abdul-Rahman Abdullah, Calendar, 2014, digital video projection, duration 1 minute (loop)
Calendar looks at the relevance of lunar cycles as a common basis of the Islamic, Buddhist and Hindu religious calendars. Stigmatised by Christian traditions, the moon has become synonymous with the other, associating lunar activity with base instinct, femininity, and the occult. For Muslim communities, the cycles of the moon inform the annual calendar. This defines the time of observance of Ramadan, the sacred month which occurs in the ninth month of the calendar and involves fasting, reflection and prayer. The full moon marks the mid- way point of Ramadan.
The moon is a repeated motif in Abdullah’s work, in different phases and creative modalities. Calendar was first displayed on the walls of Perth Mosque in 2014. Since then, it has featured in several of his recent exhibitions, as a symbol of Islam and the unstoppable passage of time.
Abdul-Rahman Abdullah, Watching, waiting, 2013, tinted resin, mirror 65 x 55 x 12cm
Abdul-Rahman Abdullah, My eyes adjust, 2020, stained wood, 86 x 56 x 4cm
My eyes adjust was made during the early pandemic period of 2020, conceived, and created during lockdowns in Perth. The work corresponds in size to a series of paintings by Abdul Abdullah, Abdullah’s brother, which were being made at the same time in Sydney. At this time the brothers were separated by geography and hard borders.
Appearing as a painting wrapped under black film, this sculptural work is an embodiment of the sense of redaction and stasis defining that period of our lives. It was a response to how we all collectively adjusted to a pervading sense of uncertainty, and pivoted ourselves towards home life, new daily routines and rhythms.
My eyes adjust was made during the early pandemic period of 2020, conceived, and created during lockdowns in Perth. The work corresponds in size to a series of paintings by Abdul Abdullah, Abdullah’s brother, which were being made at the same time in Sydney. At this time the brothers were separated by geography and hard borders.
Appearing as a painting wrapped under black film, this sculptural work is an embodiment of the sense of redaction and stasis defining that period of our lives. It was a response to how we all collectively adjusted to a pervading sense of uncertainty, and pivoted ourselves towards home life, new daily routines and rhythms.
Abdul-Rahman Abdullah, Black Dog, 2017, bronze, synthetic carpet
‘In Black Dog, I was looking at how the idea of the dog, something that is considered a much-loved participant in Australian family life, can become something dark and menacing depending on your cultural lens. Dogs are often considered haram or ritually unclean to Muslims, unless kept for a purpose, such as guard dogs. I grew up in Victoria Park, which at the time was filled with cheap car yards, mechanics and hock shops, so most of the dogs that I encountered reinforced my distrust.’
‘The other side to this was the proximity of the supernatural within the natural world. Djinn are said to take the form of dogs and snakes, and black dogs in particular were to be avoided as they’re considered representatives of Satan. For a culture that doesn’t encourage imagery, describing evil with an animal that you encounter in daily life can orchestrate a terrifying experience for a kid.’
‘This work is about examining my own mythologies, subverting cultural prohibitions, and dragging my monsters into the daylight. It’s a dog and a snake, it’s also a chasm of fear.’
Abdul Rahman-Abdullah
‘In Black Dog, I was looking at how the idea of the dog, something that is considered a much-loved participant in Australian family life, can become something dark and menacing depending on your cultural lens. Dogs are often considered haram or ritually unclean to Muslims, unless kept for a purpose, such as guard dogs. I grew up in Victoria Park, which at the time was filled with cheap car yards, mechanics and hock shops, so most of the dogs that I encountered reinforced my distrust.’
‘The other side to this was the proximity of the supernatural within the natural world. Djinn are said to take the form of dogs and snakes, and black dogs in particular were to be avoided as they’re considered representatives of Satan. For a culture that doesn’t encourage imagery, describing evil with an animal that you encounter in daily life can orchestrate a terrifying experience for a kid.’
‘This work is about examining my own mythologies, subverting cultural prohibitions, and dragging my monsters into the daylight. It’s a dog and a snake, it’s also a chasm of fear.’
Abdul Rahman-Abdullah
Photography: Miles Noel