forthcoming exhibition at the Swan Hill Regional Art Gallery

The second exhibition of the Mallee Routes project is coming up. It will be at the Swan Hill Regional Art Gallery from 23rd of  March to the 6th of May 2018. The exhibition   represents new work, namely work  that has been made  by Eric Algra, Gilbert Roe and myself since our  initial exhibition at the Atkins Photo Lab’s gallery in late 2017.

The Swan Hill exhibition will include a historical dimension in that there will be a section of  photos of the Mallee that were taken  prior to our project. This will  be a section of photos that I have come across in my research  and  posted in the history gallery on the website.   This  historical dimension is designed to indicate that there is  a photographic culture with respect to photographing the white settler’s  history of the  Mallee. Read More

history of water in the Mallee

As is well known, the history of the Mallee is one of an extensive clearing of  the Mallee scrub woodland and then substantial engineering efforts  to pipe water across the semi-arid Wimmera region. Whilst searching for photos  for the history gallery,  and  for the historical section of  the forthcoming exhibition at the Swan Hill Regional Art Gallery in March 2018,   I came across some historical images relating to land  clearing and water infrastructure to establish the expansion of  rain-fed agriculture into arid  lands.

These ‘development’ pictures  of the settlement of the wheatlands  show a pioneering settler world that has disappeared into the archives of the state and national libraries. The heavy roller (scrub -bashers) and the subsequent stump-jump plough were 19th century technologies associated with heavy, slow hand labour and peasant agriculture.

This was domesticating the land—  clearing, settling, organising and establishing and agricultural industry on marginal lands by the pioneering settlers.  They had high hopes  and big dreams for this agricultural  frontier after 1918.  What enabled the agricultural expansion was a big investment in railway networks,  public works and  roads  in the early 20th century.

Once  the marginal land had been  settled and the wheat industry established  technology in the form of  the internal combustion engine  (tractors, cars and trucks) and increased mechanisation made life and work easier by the 1940s.   It was drought that was  the big problem in these arid lands— it occurred in  1914-16, the early 1930s, in 1945-6,  in 1957-9, and 1965-66–and resulted in the failure of soldier settlement schemes, farm bankruptcies, foreclosures and widespread  soil erosion.   Drought, high winds, and constant tillage to increase crop rotation eroded the land and lead to the  widespread dust storms.    Read More

Irrigation and the Mallee

When  I was at the Morgan photo camp   with Gilbert Roe  in early November I  noticed that  the stretch of land around Morgan and Waikerie   was increasingly being transformed  by the ongoing clearing of the original mallee scrub and its  replacement by irrigation in the form of irrigated agriculture.  This is a  landscape is one of red sands, the Murray River and  gum trees and the horticultural crops now being grown appear to be primarily critus fruit (mandarins and oranges)  and vines. It is an extensive transformation of the land.

This transformation is an  indication of the ongoing  history of the continual  clearing of the Mallee scrub in this  region. From what I can gather it started  when soldier-settlers returned from World War I and grew grenache and palomino grapes for the big wineries to make generic sherries and ports.  In the 1960s and ’70s,  the emerging Australian thirst for table wine required huge quantities of sweet white gordo and sultana grapes to fill flagons and casks of fruity moselle. Through the 1990s and early 2000s it was sunshine-in-a-glass chardonnay and shiraz exported to the supermarkets in the  UK in bulk.


Even though this part  of the South Australian  mallee is above  Goyder’s Line, the extensive irrigation based on the  extraction of  water from the River Murray overcomes the lack of rain. The water for irrigation is based on a water entitlement (calculated based on crop area and crop requirement) with the total usage capped by State legislation. Any expansion  comes from either  buying up properties or water trading.  The region has a high vulnerability and high dependence on water  whilst  the community has limited options and a low ability to cope with a reduction in water allocation.

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finally, another photocamp: Morgan

I leave  Encounter Bay tomorrow for a 5 day photocamp at Morgan in South Australia with Gilbert, even though  it is a little late in the year  to be photographing in the SA Mallee.  I haven’t been able to get away on a phototrip to the Mallee as I’d  previously planned,   due to  the need to  kickstart  the Adelaide Photography 1970-2000 book.

I am hoping that the weather  in early November is reasonably cool (it does not get too hot),  the mosquitos are few and far between and there is some cloud cover .

Though I haven’t been able to go on road trips in the Mallee  during the late winter and early spring  months,.  I have been looking at other bodies  of work that bear some kind of  resemblance to Mallee Routes.  One is  the Desert Cantos by  Richard Misrach, a  significant and  remarkable body of work of the deserts of the American West, begun in 1979.  It  is evaluated in this essay by Gerry Badger.
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topographic photography + trauma

Can trauma be connected to a topographic approach to  photographing the Mallee?

I have been mulling over this whilst  I put the  Mallee Routes  project aside for a month or so,  so that  I could  work on the Adelaide Photography 1970-2000 book, which is  to be produced by   Adam Dutkiewicz and myself for Moon Arrow Press in 2018.  The Adelaide Photography project  has been kickstarted, as it were, and the break has been beneficial.

The reason I  started to think in terms the topographical approach to my photography  on the Mallee  Routes project is that the topographical approach is roughly seen in the art institution as being  observing the word in a sort of detached way,  so as  to show you something that was always there but that you didn’t see before. This approach is also held  to  characterise what the art market has called the  Düsseldorf School of Photography, even though this photographers are diverse and conceptually orientated.  Read More

In Birchip: reflections on landscape photography

I briefly explored in and around  Birchip  during  the Hopetoun photo camp in July, looking for material  for a large format photoshoot.  Birchip is  in the WimmeraMallee region of Victoria.  It is situated in mostly wheat country,  and it lies between Donald in the south, Sea Lake in the north, Hopetoun and Warracknabeal in the west  and  Boort and Wedderburn in the east.

This is a pretty amateurish photo–it was exposed at midday using my  Sony NEX-7 digital camera.  This is not a good time to photograph using  digital  technology,  especially when photographing into the sun. Hence the flare.   However,  the composition  is okay,  the picture  suits  the 5×7 format,  and the softer light of the  late afternoon or  flat  light would work.  So the scoping has done its job. I have something to work on and work with.

But how to do this  photographically?

The scoping picture  is a deadpan image of an unexpressive and repetitive subject  that appears impersonal, blank and boring. It repeats the same idea–silos in the landscape— in different ways whilst  avoiding the artistic subjectivity and narrativity represented by photojournalism.  There is no event in this picture,   there is little human interest, and no first hand witness to pain and suffering associated with tragedies.  It is not a subjective documentary of the auteur photographers such as Diane Arbus, Lee Friedlander and Gary Winogrand in the US or Carol Jerrems in Australia. Nor is it an architectural photograph that celebrates the building and  the style of the master architect.

Instead we have a cool, distanced view of ordinary, everyday subject matter that many  would tend to characterise as ‘neutral’ or ‘objective’. For many it is the  blank gaze of a deadpan photography –what you see is what you get. This is it. Most would see it as unexciting, emotionless,  dull, flat and boring.  Mind numbing. Read More

Hopetoun revisited: water

In late July Gilbert Roe and myself  had a 5 day camp at Lake Lascelles in Hopetoun,  which is in the northern western part of the Wimmera Mallee in Victoria  . It was a winter camp and it was very cold at night with  sub  zero temperatures in  the early morning. On the last morning of the camp there was  heavy fog in Hopetoun, which meant a midday  departure, since  the tent’s fly  need to dry before it was packed away.


It was a fruitful trip despite a lack of photos being taken.   The  details of  the second  exhibition of the Mallee Routes  project at Swan Hill Regional Galley in March 2018 was sorted with Ian Tulley, the Director of the Gallery, in that  the large gallery space will host two exhibitions: one by Paul Oswin’s bird drawings  and the other  showing the  photos from  the Mallee Routes project.  Secondly,  we made contact with the ACRE project,  even though I have yet to figure out how a documentary style photography can be a part of this ongoing regional project.  Read More

Don Watson: The Bush

I had planned  to go on a roadtrip to the Mallee this week on my own, but an infected tooth has seen that trip cancelled. Instead I am reading Don Watson’s   book The Bush: Travels in the Heart of Australia (2016). From what I can gather the book is based Watson  buying  a 4WD in 2009 and setting off across the eastern part of the country on a road trip. Along the way he  interviewed scientists, bushies and graziers. The book is intertextual in that Watson constantly refers to other books about  the bush, and though there are photos, there is no mention of what photographing the landscape might mean. It is a literary text.

It is  a  sprawling,   rich book,  in that  it is  part memoir, part travelogue, part deconstruction of myths (e.g., mateship, national character )  part natural  history and part history of  both the white silence about  the Frontier Wars and  the  clearing and unsustainable land use by the pioneer settlers, pastoralists and farmers. Watson  writes from within the lived experience of growing up in this extensively  transformed landscape, and he is  examining his own relationship with the land and his past as well as  that of the pioneer settlers and pastoralists.

His  argument in the book is that linguistic domination is the foundation of modern Australia, the frenzied clearing  of the bush and the killing of the  Aboriginal people  has been the fundamental building block on which our national character has been formed. Our society is built upon violence, dispossession, appropriation and a militant misunderstanding of those with whom we should have listened to and respected.

The chapter  I am reading is on the Mallee and it is entitled ‘A collision of cultures’, which refers to  Paul Carter’s  Ground Truthing: Explorations in a Creative Regiona spatial history of the Mallee. Watson is driving through the Victorian mallee in 2011 during a mouse plague.  He notes that the  mallee refers to both the southern edge of the arid zone in a band of mallee scrub extending from Kalgoorlie in Western Australia  to south-central NSW, and  in South Australia and Victoria to a specific place bordering on the lower Murray.

This  is a land  of wheat, scorching heat, mice and locust plagues and dust storms that is notable for its solemn silence and emptiness.  The chapter on the  Mallee is about  demonstrating the linguistic domination by  the white setters who were indifferent to the language and culture of the Indigenous people.  Read More

The Mallee and the pastoral

Photographing the rural landscapes of  the Mallee  country  needs to be distinguished from the idyllic  pastoral tradition in Australian visual culture  that in the Heidelberg tradition   emphasised the tamed farmland with its  abundance of natural resources.  The  artists represent this  in the almost mandatory blue and gold palette.

This  form of pastoralism  refers to representations of a rural landscape during the European colonial settlement of the land, with its sheep grazing and cropping,   its  link to national identity,   the heroic,  white bush worker,   the taming of the landscape and progress.  This  white setter pastoralism,  systematically removed Indigenous people from the Australian landscape  recreated a white colonial landscape which was devoid of life prior to European (characterised as human) settlement. The painters in creating a harsh but yielding Australian landscape and populating it with Aussie Bushmen,  laid the foundations for contemporary Australia.

 This pastoralism  was  undercut in the 1960s by Drysdale’s stoic outback figures, Nolan’s anti-heroic bushrangers and convicts and doomed explorers, Tucker’s eroded and metaphysical antipodean heads,  and Boyd’s haunted symbolic imagery. However, this  tradition was devoid  of  the Indigenous connection to land and  to the pre-existing Indigenous landscape,  whilst  the violent and traumatic process of colonisation and nation  building was removed.
 The pastoral  today  is a romantic one that refers to urban dwellers leaving the industrial city, retreating to the rural landscape in the wine regions and then returning to the city. It a kind of weekend retreat  in a cottage with walking in the full force of the elements and good pub food and wine in  which the person is refreshed  and renewed and so more able to cope with the tensions of  living in the industrial city.This version of  the pastoral, which  refers  back  to Virgil’s ‘Georgics’, and is the heart of European Classical education especially in Britain and German is a celebratory one.  It has a tendency to  idealise the countryside and adopt a  nostalgic look back at the past.

This is a mythical past when life, though tough, was rooted in the security of the seasons and community, the land was fertile, and the small towns were prosperous.  This mythical past is then set against the difficulties and uncertainties of the present and the confusions of the future with the decline of the family farm and the emergence of climate change.

It is hard to see the mallee in South Australia in terms of this kind of pastoral. We  are a long way from Henry David Thoreau and his simple life close to nature at Walden Pond,  which he  counterposed to the tensions of urban civilization, even if the ethos of country mindedness–the Australian version  of agrarianism—assumes that the rural way of life is a morally better life. The Mallee is no Arcadia and the pastoral romantic (the classic British genre) with  its   journey from the city  to Arcadia and back to the city renewed’  does work for the  Australian mallee  landscape and its peoples.  Read More

re-photographing the Mallee

In a previous post I mentioned how  I had reconnected to  an old  photo trip  that I made in the 1980s in the VW Kombi to  Mantung and Galga in the South Australian Mallee. However,  I didn’t  mention that I had some re-photography possibilities  in mind.  On the earlier  trip  I  made several black and white photos with a large format camera ( these are in my film gallery on the Mallee Routes website), and I was wondering whether  it was possible/feasible to re-photograph the sites and buildings  that I’d photographed in  the 1980s?  If it were feasible,  would it be worthwhile doing? If it were worthwhile,  what would re-photography mean in the context of the Mallee Routes project?

These questions were in the back of my mind when I was at  the Loxton photo camp in late April  and I was exploring this area of the South Australian Mallee.   I returned to the particular places I had  photographed at Mantung and Galga in the 1980s to see what remained, what had disappeared, and what could be re-photographed. In particular I  was looking for this old,  petroleum storage shed  in Galga:

Rephotography is the process of photographing a picture again after a period of time has passed. In the past 40 years, there has been a large increase in use of rephotography within artistic and cultural projects around the world. They are usually  designed to  better understand change to the landscape over time.  These days the internet is awash with software-aided ‘computational rephotography’, augmented by Photoshop, such that ‘then’ and ‘now’ have been mashed-up, transposed and composited like never before. My approach, in contrast,  has its roots in the pre-digital  re-photography of  the 1970s/1980s.   Read More