Me as white woman on Wadawurrung Country.

Gloss varnish finish
Here I am, on the land I live and love so much, that isn’t mine. This painting is about confusion, disjunction, shame and the relationship I have with this land. I am trying to hug it, but I can’t. Somehow, I don’t fit. Instead, I’m like an excavator used for mining, or two big, awkward arches against the glowing Southern blue gums. And yet, I’m still trying. Am I causing more harm than good? Probably. Decolonisation seems long and messy. But is that my foot turning into a kangaroo paw? No, I don’t think so. But maybe, one day.. if I keep trying... or am I just digging a deeper hole for Wadawurrung? I hope not.

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Welcome to the cave of imperfect forms. I’ll let the forms speak for themselves:

‘We like to think of ourselves as your poor man’s (or woman’s or person’s) Marie-Therese Walter or Dora Maar. In fact, if you blur your eyes to the point of not being able to see at all, you may even be able to catch the scent of a very syntheticy Eau de Wally Neuzil.

You may decide for yourself which, if any, of these muses lurk in our creator’s conscious, unconscious or collective unconscious... however, we do know for sure that the purpose of our existence is to reveal the dark, irreverent and unusual slivers that glint like broken glass in all of us imperfect forms here on Earth.’

Errrrr, why thank you, imperfect forms.

Kate