A ghostly shadow under a noose, sadness across the dark face. Light shining through the window, casting another shadow on the ground beneath the noose; this shadow looks like a cross. The image is dark. It would be unsettling without the word written in red along the bottom of the painting: "Suicide."
Dark shadows frantically running, fear in their eyes, frowning. The shadows are of differing sizes and shapes, but all nearly human--some clearly infants. An amoeba is in the middle of these figures, its arms reaching out, grabbing the shadows, dragging them into its embrace. Aboriginal Protection Board, the painting says within the center of the amoeba. Genocide, the painting says above the entirety of the scene.
A horse with a reaper figure jumps out of the desert ground. Bones lay amongst the hot clay. Human skulls. The horse is almost as ghastly as the face of the rider. The horse appears to be in pain. It hurts to carry this rider. The sky above the scene is a melted, dark, British flag without apparent borders. Tyranny, the painting is called.
These are just 3 examples of the Aboriginal paintings on exhibit in the Australian Museum. There are several more there, and nearly all of them are just as disturbing as these. They are recent paintings, depicting scenes about the invading British who in bringing order and civilization to Australia broke apart a lifestyle going back many thousands of years. Some are in direct reference to the Stolen Generations--a time in which the Australian government thought they could "cure" the Aborigines by removing children from their families and educating them in Western thought. This was against the wills of these families. It was not an invitation. It was forced. This took place in the 1900s, not ending until the 1970s.
This disturbs me, especially when thinking about the incredible country I'm in. My week passed quickly. I enjoyed it thoroughly. It rained lightly a few days, but not enough to be annoying. The humidity was extremely high and uncomfortable at times, but it could have been worse. Classes went well. The short plays took most of my time and I'm getting more and more excited to be working on them. I'm getting to do so much that I'd never be able to do at home. The land here is beautiful. I live on the edge of a nature reserve. Fantastic, beautiful birds visit the house every day. I am making good friends, forming wonderful relationships. This place seems unreal. It seems magical. And yet the history of it is so dark. It would be easier to swallow if the wrongs committed against the Aborigines were long ago, but they were not. There is still a large amount of prejudice against these wonderful people today. Bring them up with the average Australian, and he or she will have some preconceived conception of who these people are. They are still viewed by many as somehow being lesser, somehow being people in need of a "cure."
It is disturbing. This place seems like paradise in some ways. But it is not.
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There was one painting today that was not so disturbing. A beautiful landscape of a valley full of lush, green trees spread through most of the painting. A blue sky hung over it and a light fog crossed it. In the lower right corner of the painting, three men were gathered around a small fire. They appeared to be happy. This painting seemed to depict this land before it was altered by the settlers. Before modernization. It was the only hopeful painting in the exhibit, as far as I could tell. It's not the world as it is now, but the beautiful earth is still here. The wonder of the world is still here. The freedom to gather with friends around a fire is still here. And maybe, just maybe, there's still some hope.
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