Eastern Australia with Annie

Reaching the end of my tour through Australia I have come from Darwin to Cairns, through Adelaide, Melbourne and Sydney. Taking in the coast of Queensland I passed Annie in Brisbane, through the beautiful Whitsundays and up to Townsville were I spent longer than necessary due to hurricane Ita.

“Monday, August 8th – Weighed anchor at daybreak, and were pushed merrily forward by strong SE breezes. We sailed swiftly up the coast as far as Townsville – a pretty looking town of foreign appearance, with its wharves and business houses close down on the beach, whilst the villas and private residences stand on the little nooks and corners of a hill at the back. The officers of HMS ‘Myrmidon’, which was lying in harbour, soon came on board to see us. They had broken their rudder head outside the Barrier Reef, where they too were hard at work surveying, and had come into Townsville for repairs. The anchorage proved rolly, there being no protection whatsoever, and I had rather an uncomfortable night.” (Annie Brassey, 1887)

I didn’t make it as far north as I’d hoped. Cairns was as far as I got. Thursday Island and the Torres Straits had been my goal. It was always a long shot. Difficult and expensive flights and time constraints made this ultimately impossible. My reason for such plans a result of Thursday Island being the last place Annie set foot. While Darwin was the last place the Sunbeam docked, Thursday Island was the last place she visited.

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Whitehaven Beach, Whitsundays, Queensland (Louise Kenward, 2015)

Replicating some of Annie’s photographs from East Australia to create postcards, the displays of work in progress has broadened. Our journeys becoming more entwined. I veer in and out of time frames, perspective shifts. The object from the archives only serves to create a greater sense of unreality and fantasty. Enter ‘Spike’ the platypus.  Named Spike for his poisonous sharp protrusions on his rear feet for fending off attackers. Witnessing these in the wild near to Cairns I recall being hypnotised by this other world of make believe creatures. Swimming, diving and feeding, dozens of platypus having their supper.    

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Spike the platypus, Bexhill Museum (Louise Kenward, 2015)

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Spike the platypus, Bexhill Museum (Louise Kenward, 2015)

“After landing and taking a walk through Townsville, the shore going people pronounced it to be quite as clean looking and prosperous as Bowen, but with more business going on. The town which has a population of 12,000 is built on a tongue of land between the sea and Ross Creek. It consists of one main street containing banks, public offices, counting houses, and well supplied stores and shops. The bustle in the streets and the flourishing and prosperous appearance everywhere were quite cheering. Townsville owes it’s prosperity to its railway, which is already opened to a distance of two hundred miles into the interior, and which has made it the port for a wide area of pastoral country and for several promising gold fields.” (Annie Brassey, 1887)

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Post Office, Townsville (Louise Kenward, 2014)

The railway station has since moved and extended but remains vulnerable as heavy rains washed away track, leaving me stranded. Roads eventually cleared of flood water and the bus was my means of escape, north to Cairns.

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Old train station, Townsville (Louise Kenward, 2014)

 

Southern Australia: In Conversation with Annie

Annie and I both spent about three months travelling around Australia. I did not see anything of Western Australia unfortunately but we both visited many other places ‘together’. From Darwin I travelled through the red centre, time in Alice was very special, something Annie missed, and from there I took the Ghan to Adelaide. Annie, on the ‘Sunbeam’ had travelled round the coast from Western Australia along the South of the country, also visiting Adelaide. We both spent time in Melbourne before heading north to Sydney. Thus for the context of this week of ‘In Conversation with Annie’ and the collection at Bexhill Museum, I am connecting with the Southern part of Australia rather than individual cities. I would run out of time and the classification of objects does not allow for such detail in their origin. 

My treat in revisiting Southern Australia in the context of the archives is a feather headdress. Made of parrot feathers and vegetable fibre it is the most exquisite and delicate piece I have worked with. Tangled on itself and without possibility of unravelling, for fear of damage, it remains enigmatic and the stories concealed within. Considered by the Uniques Project (uncovering Ethnography in Kent and Sussex) it had been scrutinised by experts without giving an inch. It remained elusive and a ‘mystery object’ returned to its tissue and box for safe keeping. Recent contacts made at Sydney University, however, may be encouraging in learning more.

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Parrot feather headdress, Bexhill Museum (Louise Kenward, 2015)

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detail, parrot feather headdress, Australia (Bexhill Museum, Louise Kenward)

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Parrot feather headdress, Bexhill Museum (Louise Kenward, 2015)

The enjoyment of following the lines on the paper and the frustration at the delicacy of the feathers in my clumsy pencil drawings kept me utterly absorbed. Photographs are again left wanting, flutters in my breath are fleeting and fragile.  Barely there, the stillness in the image is deceptive. It took all my will power (and a watchful Curator) not to try and unravel, but to absorb and imagine. To accept its secrets.

The story within remains, but the connection with the Museum and its site is evidenced with the label written on the back of an Air Raid Warden Report Form. The Museum opened in 1914, the start of the First World War. The context of object, place and person is captured in this small piece of paper.

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Label from headdress, Bexhill Museum (Louise Kenward, 2015)

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The story of a museum through its labels (the reverse side of feather headdress label) Bexhill Museum, Louise Kenward (2015)

Talk at Bexhill Museum

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All welcome to Bexhill Museum’s talk next Thursday, 21st May. From 3-4pm I will be sharing photographs and stories of my journey to places called Bexhill, stopping in at a couple along the way.

Admission will also include a chance to look at the work in progress of In Conversation with Annie, a Heritage Lottery Funded Residency developing a dialogue with heritage and connecting mine and Annie’s journeys. Several other lovely exhibitions currently running at Bexhill Museum are also open to visitors: Something Old Something New; Bexhill & Abroad; & The Kings German Legion in Bexhill.

Open from 10-5 Tuesday to Friday and 11-5 Saturday, Sunday and Mondays. For more details about how to get there click here.

Returning to Australia & the Northern Territories with Annie

While I travelled in one direction, more or less, the journeys of Annie’s that I tracked were multiple. This meant that mid way through my journey, and just as I arrived in Australia, Annie died. It was not unexpected, I knew the date, time and place, but it was still met with sadness and some pause for reflection. It didn’t mean the end of Annie as travel companion, but from here on in I was travelling backwards through time, as far as Annie was concerned at least.

The last place the Sunbeam docked before Annie’s demise, was Darwin. This was the point of arrival for me in Australia, making my reaching this new world full of mixed feelings. Losing Annie here was a blow, she had, by that stage almost completed an entire loop around the country, and I had grown quite used to my virtual companion. I’d become quite attached, the process of travelling, of writing, had led me to find a strengthening connection.

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Early morning, Darwin waterfront (Louise Kenward, 2014)

Arriving at dawn to a whole new world, in every sense, I experienced the ‘reverse culture shock’ often cited by travellers returning home after long journeys, adding to my sense of disorientation. I hadn’t expected to experience it mid way through, but after travelling through so many poorer parts of the world, adapting and establishing routines of one kind or another, to arrive in (an apparently) squeaky clean, shiny and empty Darwin took me by surprise. I had arrived after four months of crowded streets, bustling markets, squat toilets, mopeds piled with everything and anything (including the kitchen sink, entire families and livestock), it was noisy, colourful, chaotic. I loved it. Darwin was silent. Its wide pothole free tarmac streets empty. When a car did appear on the street it spotted me and stopped, allowed me to cross the road. I was dumbfounded. The best travel advice I have ever read is about crossing roads in Vietnam “just walk, keep walking, keep a steady pace and everything will drive around you” and that’s how it happens. I was well practised by now at crossing apparently impenetrable roads. For something to stop for me to cross, especially when there was nothing else on the roads, captured a whole sense of being somewhere else, somewhere new, somewhere surreal and unexpected. It was unsettling. I walked to the waterfront. The sea is a constant. It soothes. The only people I saw at 6am were joggers. No taxi drivers, tuk tuks, men chasing me down the road wanting to mend my shoes. No market stalls, no one tried to sell me anything or get my attention. Just a couple of joggers. One of whom said ‘g’day mate’ and truly sent my head in a spin. Living up to stereotypes I had walked into the set of neighbours perhaps, a TV version of Australia.  Finding public toilets was the next shock. They were open, they were clean, there was running water, it was hot, there was soap and somewhere to dry my hands. There was even toilet paper in the cubicles. I missed Asia terribly. I didn’t know what to do in all this brilliant white sparkling new place. It seemed unblemished and sanitised. I felt very much on my own. Added to that the stark reality (of sorts) that this was the last place Annie visited it made for a surreal experience where I questioned the ground under my feet.

Revisiting then, in the context of Bexhill Museum and the collection held, I am reminded of many of the things that I am continuing to grapple with and understand better. The Aboriginal culture was not evidenced in the Irish bars or the smart cafes of Darwins’ wide streets. Travelling to one of the National Parks, Lichfield, was my first taste of the incredible country and rich history of Australia. Arriving in the wet season, Kakadu and its examples of Aboriginal art were temporarily cut off. Roads flooded. Impressive termite mounds the area is famous for gave me some impression of this being a different land like no other. I chose not to visit crocodile ‘side shows’ designed for tourists, entertained by the proximity of wild and hungry animals. How tantalising it is to be in the presence of creatures with the power to kill you. And as you enter Australia you are told ‘everything can kill you’.

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Oceania cabinet, Bexhill Museum (Louise Kenward 2015)

Alas, I digress, I will return. For now I will illustrate my day ‘In Conversation with Annie’ and some of the objects from Northern Australia held at Bexhill Museum. Spears with heads made of beer bottle glass, axe heads of granite and shell pendants decorated in geometric designs. Many artefacts refer to the early settlers arriving in Australia. Planning to run some workshops in the near future I decide to experiment with my own drawing practise and return to using charcoal, trying out some of the things I think might be interesting for others to try. Of some of the wonderful things on display it is a little disappointing the North Australian objects are not especially appealing to draw. An axe head of granite and spears…a challenge. Rolling out paper on the floor in front of the cases, kneeling with charcoal and putty rubber, it is nonetheless an interesting exercise. I consider how vast Australia is, how much variation there is likely to be in objects and designs and I enjoy a return to working with charcoal, the challenge of yet another new texture to attempt.

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Working at Bexhill Museum, charcoal & pastels on lining paper (Louise Kenward, 2015)

The process is enjoyable. Working in another part of the museum, feeling more connected to the gallery spaces (literally and metaphorically as I sit on the floor), it feels as though there is at last some loosening up. Movement is key. Different positions of sitting, drawing, different materials. Working with things behind glass pose their own difficulties but with recent experience I imagine handling the spear heads, engaging sense of touch even on a virtual level. The sharpness of the tips, smoothness of the spearhead and consider the making of them, the person who had formed this one I select as my favourite in Northern Australia over a hundred years ago.

Borneo & birds nests – In Conversation with Annie

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Image courtesy of Bexhill Museum.

Arriving in Borneo and focus shifts from Annie’s “A Voyage in the Sunbeam” (1878) to her posthumously published “Last Voyage” (1889). Borneo, and the caves therein, triggered the deterioration of her health after catching a fever. Annie had suffered with her health for a long time, particularly with malaria, although she also commented on her arm troubling her at times, thought to be due to a riding accident (Julian Porter, curator, conversations at Bexhill Museum). The caves in Borneo and the story of their role in Annie’s deteriorating health are the reason I included Sabah (Malaysian Borneo) in my itinerary. Transfixed by the existence of the caves and discovery that the birds’ nests she went in search of, now held at Bexhill Museum, committed me to this journey and planted the seeds for this residency (and ‘In Conversation with Annie‘). 

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Birds’ nest, courtesy of Bexhill Museum.

Annie’s interest with Gormatong and Madai caves was principally the habitation of the swiftlets within and their nest building. Prized for the soup, a particular delicacy in China, birds’ nests would be collected from within the caves and boiled down to make a glutenous liquid for serving. My interest was particularly piqued through Annie’s accounts detailed in “The Last Voyage” and the accompanying illustrations. It is described as quite an adventure to find said caves and the sense of far away lands are especially evident here.

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Entrance to Madai Caves, image courtesy of Bexhill Museum.

Black bird's nests caves, Borneo "looking awkward" (Lady Brassey photograph collection, with kind permission from Hastings Library)

Black bird’s nests caves, Madai caves, Borneo “looking awkward” (Lady Brassey photograph collection, with kind permission from Hastings Library)

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Gormatong Caves (Louise Kenward, 2014)

Swamps and rainforest eventually precluded Annie from reaching Gormatong. Men were sent to find the caves and she accepted defeat only after three day treks proved the challenge of reaching them. She had to be satisfied with Madai. In contrast I had gone in hope of finding Madai caves and had to settle for finding Gormatong. They were a good deal more accessible than they were in 1887, although much of Northern Borneo is still a little challenging to navigate without your own transport (and all the correct permits). They did look similar to Annie’s photographs of Darvel Valley and Madai caves and I trust smelled the same (I was fortunate to be harbouring a cold by then). The floor covered in guano, the walls in cockroaches. There were men living inside guarding the valuable bounty and rickety wooden ladders lashed together as Annie describes. The main difference was not at the caves themselves but when I came to leave Borneo. Arriving at the airport for my flight to Australia, I spotted a shop window filled with clear perspex boxes, each filled with small white birds’ nests.

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Singapore with Annie

Revisiting Singapore with Annie ‘In Conversation’ and I am finally able to spend time with the pangolin, normally squirrelled away in the Victorian study. He/she has captured something quite distinctive of mine and Annie’s journeys, and has provided fascination and wonder since first sight. Annie was given a pangolin as a present by the ex-Sultan of Johore at which she was rather perplexed:

…”a live little beast, not an alligator, and not an armadillo or a lizard; in fact I do not know what it is; it clings round my arm just like a bracelet…” (A Voyage in the Sunbeam, A. Brassey 1878)

One hundred and thirty seven years on and it is still a creature that captures the imagination. They are not easy to find now and there are not many left. All eight species of pangolin are threatened with extinction and are listed under Appendix II of CITES (the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of wild fauna and flora). This means any trade is regulated and monitored. There is a zero export quota for all four Asian species of pangolin. Despite this, pangolins are the most illegally traded mammal in the world (Save Pangolin Association, 2015). Reported as the creature that may become extinct before it is even recognised by many it has been subject of a high profile in the media recently. It is a creature that conjures images of fairytales and fantasy.

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Pangolin, Bexhill Museum (Louise Kenward, 2015)

The pangolin is sometimes described as a scaly anteater, a mammal with a tongue longer than its body, they live in trees and burrow in the ground. Solitary, nocturnal animals, they foster a description of being ‘secretive’. With a hard protective shell of scales they roll into a ball to defend themselves and are notoriously difficult to keep in captivity. This makes Annie’s pangolin all the more surprising. When rescued from illegal trade they are difficult to look after and rehabilitate. This focusses conservation efforts on prevention; training rangers and developing education programmes. For more information and links to ways you can help see www.savepangolins.org

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Pangolin (detail), Bexhill Museum (Louise Kenward, 2015)

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Annie with pangolin, Bexhill Museum (Louise Kenward, 2015)

I don’t remember seeing any wildlife during my visit, although spent little time in Singapore, my postcard to Annie was hurriedly sent from the airport as I waited for my flight to Jakarta. Just a day or so to explore the stunning architecture of this incredible modern city. The performing arts building on the Esplanade is inspired by the durian fruit, a bridge in the centre of the city is inspired by the structure of DNA. The skyline and the streets are clean. Chewing gum is banned. Slick shopping centres are vast and expensive. The seafood is very good. 

Comparing my experiences to Annie’s, things have changed quite considerably:

“the town… [was] not imposing, its streets, or rather roads of wooden huts and stone houses, being mixed together indiscriminately…As soon as the Governor and his suite had set off for Johore we went down into the hot dusty town to get our letters, parcels, and papers, and to look at the shops. There are not many Malay specialities to be bought here; most of the curiosities come from India, China, and Japan, with the exception of birds of Paradise from New Guinea, and beautiful bright birds of all colours and sizes from the various islands in the Malay Archipelago.”

I don’t recall any dust in Singapore but did find the post office Annie visited. Now converted to a hotel.

Work at the museum is progressing. I am writing and drawing, photographing and talking. Displays are being altered and updated, shifted and edited.