• Our Mission
    • Our Space
    • Our History
    • Our Team
    • Our Artists
    • Strategic Documents
  • Shop
  • What's On
  • Programs
    • Donate
    • Membership
    • Subscribe
    • Our Supporters
    • News
    • TAiR Journal
  • ARCHIVE
Menu

Watch This Space

  • About
    • Our Mission
    • Our Space
    • Our History
    • Our Team
    • Our Artists
    • Strategic Documents
  • Shop
  • What's On
  • Programs
  • SUPPORT
    • Donate
    • Membership
    • Subscribe
    • Our Supporters
  • News
    • News
    • TAiR Journal
  • ARCHIVE

ARCHIVE

  • March 2023
  • February 2023
  • December 2022
  • October 2022
  • September 2022
  • August 2022
  • July 2022
  • June 2022
  • July 2021
  • March 2021
  • October 2020
  • June 2020
  • May 2020
  • April 2020
  • March 2020
  • February 2020
  • December 2019
  • November 2019
  • September 2019
  • July 2019
  • June 2019
  • May 2019
  • April 2019
  • March 2019
  • February 2019
  • November 2018
  • September 2018
  • August 2018
  • July 2018
  • June 2018
  • May 2018
  • March 2018
  • February 2018
  • October 2017
  • August 2017
  • July 2017
  • May 2017
  • March 2017
  • February 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • November 2014
  • September 2014
  • July 2014
  • June 2014
  • May 2014

TAiR October 2022: MJ Flamiano

October 17, 2022

I’ve been thinking about the stories that I carry with me onto someone else’s Country; and I have always been on someone else’s Country. Here in Mparntwe, where I currently sit to write this on Arrernte Country, I have brought the story or imagined idea of ‘gaba’, a Bisaya concept of ‘immanent justice’. Some think of it like a curse, but I think it’s more closely related to one’s actions or conduct in this life and the idea that ‘moral transgressions’ will inevitably bring about gaba.

While I think what underpins the use of gaba is probably the desire for social and behavioural control to uphold the status quo in a pre/post/whatever-colonial Philippines, and the kind of thing your most superstitious tita or tito threatens you with at a family gathering - but heyyy - I still feel drawn to it. Here and now in this town surrounded by buildings, landscapes, and people that feel out of place, myself included, and the racial and social disparities that exist within this continent called Australia.

When I arrived, WTS put a few text resources in my studio for visiting artists, including this book called ‘A town called Mparntwe’ written by David Brooks in collaboration with the Arrernte people to share some stories that we visitors should know about here. In this book, you can see the illustrator’s impressions of the town’s surrounding landscapes with references to the creation stories of caterpillars and wild dogs, the ancestral beings of the Arrernte. They formed the landscapes that I now see and hold an enduring place on Country, while somehow sharing space with things like Hungry Jack’s and the old Beaurepairs shop.

Through the lens of gaba, the story that I’ve been most drawn to from this book has been about Barrett Drive. It goes that when the NT government first planned to build this road that they were in close consultation with the Arrernte people. During these consultations, the Arrernte people raised concerns about the proposed design because it would destroy part of a sacred caterpillar site, the Ntyarlkarle Tyaneme. The project stalled as negotiations were made and the government promised not to take any action until an agreement could be reached by all parties. However, the book explains that during the quiet Christmas period one of the Custodians discovered that the tail of the Ntyarlkarle Tyaneme was missing, revealing that the government had broken their promise and ploughed ahead with the build to the detriment of both the site and the trust of the Arrernte people.

Barrett Drive has become known as Broken Promises Drive, a straight and wide asphalt road that now leads to affluent places like Crowne Plaza, Lasseters Casino, Alice Springs Golf Course, etc. I’ve driven and walked along here and visited the Lasseters pool and the Hanuman restaurant. I’ve watched the traffic pass through, the cars, 4WDs, buses, bikes, and people wandering up and down this very same part of Country. I wonder if those decision-makers now feel a sense of reprieve seeing what’s been built since they broke their promises for the capitalist conception of ‘progress’. I wonder more at what point gaba, in all its inevitability, will come for those that broke their promises and continue to break promises on stolen land.

← TAiR October 2022: MJ Flamiano Journal 2TAiR September 2022: Liss Fenwick, Journal #2 →
Back to Top
 

Contact
wts@wts.org.au
(08) 8952 1949

8 Gap Rd
Alice Springs, NT 0870

full details ⟶
 

Gallery hours
Wed-Fri    12-5pm
Sat 10am-2pm
during exhibition periods

We recognise the unceded land of Mparntwe/Alice Springs within which we live and make. We pay respect to its traditional custodians, the Arrernte people, promising to listen and learn. 
Kele mwerre.


Arts NT colour logo.png
 
aca_logo_horizontal_large_rgb-54322d254c835.png
 

WTS is operationally supported by the Northern Territory Government through Arts NT.

 

Our 2019-2020 program, Supporting Artists & National Conversations, is funded by the Australia Council for the Arts.


Sign up to our free e-newsletter to stay up to date ⟶


© 2019 Watch This Space Inc