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Dryland heralds a profound shift in Pamela Kouwenhoven's already substantial body of work which explores materiality. It is a shift that has been steadily gaining momentum over the past five years. Reconstructing the detritus of farms - malthoid (a bitumous substance used to line the external base of water tanks) and the tanks themselves - Kouwenhoven creates works that exude a powerful sense of the dry country. Encapsulating the complex relationships that settler cultures have had with this country since the first landing, they whisper of the struggle successive generations have had with a land that resists cultivation and civilisation beyond the city fringes; the fraught battle for survival in a place that is simultaneously unforgivingly harsh and deceptively fragile. Yet it is these very elements that make Kouwenhoven's pieces so uniquely, unequivocally Australian. The passing of generations is revealed in the scrapings of malthoid; the traces of time etched into its surface record drought, flood, feast and famine, blistering summers and chilly winters. These are bituminous parchments of the perpetual cycle of birth and death, decay and renewal. They speak of the poetics of place and belonging. The tank works have developed out of Kouwenhoven's exploration of malthoid. They, too, retain the memory of land and our unquenchable thirst for water. With little surface water available in the dry country, tanks are a life support system for the settlers and their livestock. The presence of these cut-down tanks create a compelling tension, juxtaposing the hard, rigid metal with the soft, pliable malthoid, which in turn mimics the environment in which they had stood for decades. Through the works in this exhibition, Kouwenhoven eloquently expresses her spiritual connection to the land of her childhood - the far west coast of Eyre Peninsula - and to the dry lands beyond. In contemplating these works, we allow ourselves to reflect on our own connections to land and to ponder the schismatic nature of Australia: fragile-resilient; barren-abundant; harsh-beautiful. By reconciling the divides, we have a chance of becoming whole. Karen Zadra, Adelaide 2008 |
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Kouwenhoven was brought up on a farm in the dry west coast region of South Australia. Like many rural communities where water is precious, the corrugated iron rainwater tank was a ubiquitous feature of the landscape. In order to protect the tanks from rust, a waterproof membrane malthoid was often placed between the bottom of the tank and the base [often the earth]. Hidden from sight, and pressed over decades by weight and weather into exquisite and complex patterns, the malthoid developed a patina that told its own hidden story. Sadly, this story - this 'writing' - was usually dumped, along with the tank, when it had passed its use-by date. With her eye for the unusual, prowling the rubbish tips of ancient farms, Kouwenhoven saw potential in these ugly and discarded relics. Rearranged with the artist's sensitivity and presented in standard picture frames, they became both landscapes and metaphors for a parched land. From a catalogue essay by Ian Hamilton, for "Intersect" - Gallery 25, Mildura, September 2003 |
| ARTIST
STATEMENT A chance encounter some years ago with old malthoid from the bottom of discarded water tanks, sparked a profound excitement in me. Visually the malthoid had taken on the appearance of the land, displaying exquisite and complex patterning and holding the memory of the earth against which it lay, hidden and pressed over decades by great weight of water. This was a catalyst in that it evoked the memory of, and a nostalgic longing for, my 'fathers land'. This being marginal land which had been cleared by my grandfather in the 1920's for farming; worked by him, and then by my father in turn. Theirs was a long and intimate connection to those thousands of acres of dry land. Their experiences ultimately became the 'dreaming' story absorbed by me and imbedded in my memory as a child. Through the malthoid series of work I am re-examining my memory of deeply felt connection to land and what it means to me. |
