Landscape is bound by a long history of representational convention and packaged in all manner of complex cultural wrappings.
My landscapes describe a man-made land not the natural environment. They show the marks of human occupation of the land, fences, roads, rows of introduced conifers, pump sheds, and dams.
My new work reveals a change in subject from country roads to forest imagery. On a visual level forest celebrates all the things painters love - dark and light, rich colours and textures, sculptural forms and as much variation and detail as you can handle. Visual enigmas abound.
But I was only able to paint natural forest imagery when I realized the deep place it holds in our mythology. Forest has a visceral cultural significance in the folklore of both the original inhabitants of this land and recent arrivals. They are places people have lived, loved and feared; worked in, explored and known intimately.
I seek to embed this hidden history of the land in the work.
In 2006 “The Valley To The Sea”, a project at the Bega Valley Regional Gallery with Mandy Martin as mentor became a watershed for me and continues to drive my work.
The use of natural ochres gives a subdued but rich palette. Kalaru yields warm yellows, cold red can be obtained from Merimbula rocks, a blood red clay
can be found in Buckajo and even the decomposing granite near Bega gives a rich burnt orange.
To extract the pigment I create a slurry with the raw material and remove the larger debris. Then I pour off the finer material. I do this several times; each time discarding the coarse material in the bottom of the container until all that remains is a suspension of fine particles which is left to dry. Finally I grind it with a pestle and mortar. This pigment can then be bound in either acrylic or oil mediums.
I was born the middle child in a family of five in Rockhampton, Central Queensland in 1951 to parents of German and Danish ancestry. My father saw service in northern Australia during the war and moved the growing family to Bamaga
near the tip of Cape York in 1952. This was our introduction to the rich Torres Strait Island culture, music, dance and food. From there we moved to Yarrabah south of Cairns where aboriginal playmates showed me the prized takeaways of guava, lillipilli, quondong, burdekin plum, tamarind and sea almond.
Rick far left with siblings 1955
Bamaga, Cape York
We settled on the Atherton Tablelands in 1964. We grew corn and potatoes and also had a dairy farm for some years. Dad worked in sawmills to bring in extra cash. I spent countless hours wandering the remnant rainforest of the Atherton Tablelands and if I heard today the dusk call of the scrub hen or cat bird it would bring a lump to my throat. When Dad plowed the potato paddock I would crisscross it picking up the stone artifacts There were large oval flattish slate-like stones with multiple, parallel grooves; and axeheads, and smaller egg-shaped stones with indentations on either face. I read most of the work of Ion Idriess - the story of the “K” tree and Somerset; Barbara Thompson and Christie Palmerston and the vast and exciting history of the tropic north.
Brisbane was still a large country town in 1970 when I started fine art at the old technical college at the end of George Street with the Botanic Gardens on one side and Parliament House on the other. We were a terribly innocent bunch but it was a great time. 1974 found me in Edward River (now Pormpuraaw) on the Gulf of Carpentaria. In this part of the world white Australians are called Europeans. I collected word lists of one of the Wik languages and tried new bush tucker foods.
North Queensland has a vibrant and innovative art community, an active outreach program coming from the State Art Gallery in Brisbane and two large regional galleries in Townsville and Cairns. I met a sculptor Melissa Waters and we worked together and exhibited in Palm Court Gallery in Cairns. I used recycled wood and found objects. I was inspired by the teaching of Robert Mian and the work of Tom Risley who lived near my sister in Herberton.
Since 1993 I have lived in Bega in southern New South Wales. Here I found an older but relatively isolated art community and the smallest regional gallery in NSW. The domesticated rural landscape of the valley and the people who created it have a story to tell.
