to be discussed
when you first went to the Finke River you slowed down and started to look around a lot, and you made watercolors on A5 sheets. We were the ones working on A3 and A4, but you worked really small and then you put them all together and they made a big work that covered the side of the bus.
Peter: That’s true. Though the first thing I did when I got to the desert was fall asleep. I remember we arrived at the Finke River and I couldn't see anything. My wife Moriah and I had boarded a plane in New York City and we disembarked in Alice Springs a day later. We went from an intense environment with flashing lights and sirens blasting 24 hours a day to the desert, where there are no lights or anything man made for that matter. My eyes and my senses just couldn’t see a thing; it felt like everything was one tone, all the shapes and forms blended into one. I had a little sketch book so I just went for a walk, I was jet lagged and it must have been about one in the afternoon and I fell asleep on the river bank. When I woke up late in the afternoon I opened my eyes and I could see this white gum tree silhouetted against this mountain range, it was the first thing I could see, so I drew it, and then I began walking around with this little sketch book drawing whatever it was that caught my eye. I felt like I was seeing for the first time, everything was exciting and that’s how I got into the Finke. I began again! In the Finke I was sitting there working flat and I was no longer looking at a vertical surface, I was sitting with a horizontal surface.
I wasn't able to read into the space, rather I was looking at the surface as I worked, seeing how one area affected another and how the marks and shapes worked, and the feeling that the surface gives you. The feeling I got whilst I was working was that Genesis could have looked like this: a massive, pure and pristine world as described in the Old Testament. That feeling of Genesis was the inspiration for the large work that ended up on the side of the bus.
Shane: W.E.H. Stanner calls for white people to start thinking black! Is that what you’re thinking, in fact, in Eric’s essay he mentions the Western soul. Is that what you’re thinking about?
Peter: That’s a good way to describe it.
21. White gum tree in the Finke River, Charcoal on paper (5 x 8 inch) 2006
22-29. Right: eight drawings done while walking around the Finke, Charcoal on paper (each 7 x 10 inch) 2006
30. Preliminary drawings for Genesis, Charcoal on paper (14 x 11 inch) 2006
31. Preliminary drawings for Genesis, Charcoal on paper (14 x 11 inch) 2006
32. Preliminary drawings for Genesis, Charcoal on paper (14 x 11 inch) 2006
33. Preliminary drawings for Genesis, Charcoal on paper (14 x 11 inch) 2006
Shane: A term that he brings up all the time is “every when,” which is like the eternal present, timelessness. We have present time and past time, they don’t talk about the Dreamtime as something that happened in the past, it’s something that’s happening in the ever present. So when you're doing a drawing, when you're saying “when I'm there,” are you remembering? Are you actually drawing in the present moment? When is the time, and how do you get into that time?
Peter: Great question. It goes back to that conversation we were having when you and I were walking around the desert and we had these great ideas, but the ideas wouldn’t work when we’d get back to the campsite and start drawing or painting. At some point it hit me that the idea literally has to happen while I’m moving.
You know, it's great when you're moving and you're walking and then you get an idea, but if I'm trying to make a drawing I’ve literally got to be moving from one area to another, and I just worked with that a bit, just moving. For me it feels like something’s being evoked and it feels right, that it has gravity. It’s the movement that gives it gravity. Most simply put, it feels grounded and real, and that's what makes it right.
Conversely, I know when it’s not right. For example one set of marks or way of doing something may work in one moment or situation but in another moment they won’t. So I stopped worrying about what that particular narrative was to begin with. The work would go a particular direction and it might end up being something completely different. In that way I need to be one hundred per cent present in the moment, as if I’m making the world as the mark goes down, as in, the world is being created by the mark. My job is to observe and see what is being created, instead of predetermining those forms. I just observe as they arrive.