Gabi Briggs and Julie Gough
“ARKAN & IRBELA Conversation”

Held within Gabi Briggs' ARKAN & IRBELA, this conversation framed the work within a broader project, grounded in Gabi's familial connection to Anaiwan Country.

ARKAN & IRBELA takes the form of a film that articulates Anaiwan skinship practices. An extension of her grandmother Patsy Cohen’s research, the project aims to shed light on the complexities of land ownership, recovering of Anaiwan knowledge and sovereign Indigenous access.

Over the course of an hour, Gabi was in conversation with senior artist Julie Gough about the commonalities between their practices.

By way of introduction, exhibition curator Sebastian Henry-Jones noted that this conversation framed ARKAN & IRBELA within a much longer research project that extends a long way into the future, and a long way back into the past.

The following is an edited transcript of the conversation.

Julie Gough: I am very honoured to be here on Wurundjeri Country, and to be a part of this conversation with Gabi today. I met Gabi yesterday for the first time, so you're hearing my thoughts as they're emerging with the work and in this new relationship that we have.

To begin: Gabi, would you like to introduce what's happening here for us?

Gabi Briggs: Thank you, Julie.

This is ARKAN & IRBELA, a work I've been able to craft over the last year through the West Space Commission. I am doing my PhD at Monash through the Wominjeka Djeembana Research Lab, and my research is centred around my Nan Patsy Cohen’s book, Ingelba and the Five Black Matriarchs. Nan wrote this book in 1990 as a member of the Stolen Generation, who was returned home to a place called Ingleba Aboriginal Reserve. Because of her experience and of the rapid loss of cultural knowledge, Nan felt the need to create this book as a gift to the community. We lost her a few years ago, and one thing that she felt strongly about was me continuing on her research journey. I took on a PhD to continue that journey. I'm particularly interested in the mention of a 80-100km walk she undertook from Ingelba to the Armidale Showgrounds. Ingelba was an Aboriginal Reserve, and Armidale is the place where I grew up, and where my mum and my father grew up. Recreating this walk is an extension of Nan's research.

For ARKAN & IRBELA, I've taken over the gallery space by using elements from Nan's book, using her own illustrations to create this place for the film to be activated. The film is an extension of the book, but also a part of this really big story that I'm crafting, and preempts the walk I’ll be doing. I wanted people to understand the walk through this work – that is through Nan's research, and through the documentation of us and the resurgence of our practices.

A big thing that I am a part of is the resurgence of Anaiwan language and other cultural knowledge – one being the Anaiwan skin system. A skin system is a relational network that crosses right across Australia. Everyone and everything is embedded into this kinship network. It basically means that I have siblings right across Australia, and everyone else does too. It essentially means that no one is left behind.

JG: It's fantastic. Once I heard that yesterday, suddenly, it was like a gift, a kind of key or a code to what's happening, which opened more questions around the choices you've made. I have rarely found such a successful use of an entire space, but also, when you're not here physically, Gabi, there is a sense that you've embarked on the walk. Hearing you share what you just did is really eye opening. But without that, the 'crypticness' of the work is also full.

I didn't notice until you pointed out some of the further layers within this installation. What this is? (points to the paintings on the wall) because I was reading lots of different possibilities into this channel around us (gestures). Is that okay to tell us more about that?

GB: These elements are from the book. This red bloodline is me copying the mental map that my Nan drew. So I'm just copying the part of the McDonald River that's at Ingelba. Other people who have looked at it have likened it to blood. Inside of it I've placed little visual elements that are found within the book itself, as well as my own notes from the research. I’m looking at the river as this continuous stream of knowledge; where you can find my Nan, myself and all of us.

The little people over there (points), that’s another drawing my Nan did in the book, where she's talking about the generational growth of Anaiwan people.

JG: Today I noticed it more. The layered nature of particular marks – There's a kind of ‘rock art’ appearance to the markings in the liquid. But you have to look for that. You have to have the will to approach.

GB: It's layered in that way too, and the colours are very considered. To articulate what the skin system is – I know that a lot of you wouldn’t know – this is new knowledge to me as well, and I think… well not only new knowledge, I feel like it's something that's been in my family for so long.

JG: Let’s think about that. Because (in terms of a skin system) for my own family, consciously, what we had in Lutruwita Tasmania. I'm unaware of the skin system there. Then I'm like, "did we have that?" but I think without that rule for living there’s chaos. The world's kind of in a chaos situation. And I think that fundamentally, all humans had this form of system. Which brings me to what you said about it being inherent.

GB: Anaiwan Country is based in ‘The New England’. It's called ‘The New England’ because they (English settlers) likened it to home, and within the first ten years there were half a million cattle stock. We were outnumbered by cows. Also within the first ten years, there were more Anaiwan people speaking English than there were speaking Anaiwan.

So I feel like there’s very strong connections there to the Tassie experience, in that a lot of our knowledge – the resurgence of knowledge – has come from the archive. It’s been the same for us. I'm also coming to understand that when a pattern is established – so well established – it will repeat itself. We've only recently come into some archival documents, through which we were able to connect our own family to the skin system. So that was an incredible breakthrough for us, but we are still reliant on the archive.

However, when we're looking at who I'm connected to through the skin system, I was able to see my family and the relationships I hold within it. So for me, my mother and her sisters are all my mothers and that is exactly how I was raised. And my mother's sister's children have always been my siblings. And that is exactly what comes through in the skin system as well. It just made sense. So that's why in this film I wanted to reflect these family relationships and the way that skin's reflected in it is through the coding of the colors of the dressing gowns. If you've been to Anaiwan Country you know it's cold. It's freezing, we're high up in the mountains and you'll see everyone walking around in a dressing gown.

JG: Have a look at that (points at the video work). It's epic. That’s a good choice, though, the dressing gowns.

GB: I was so nervous it wasn't going to work out, but I think it looks incredible. The main thing is that we've had to do so much resurgence from the archive. But also when a pattern is established… and the skin system is seen as something that's been gifted to us from Creator. It's ancient. And if it's such an ancient thing then couldn’t this pattern just continue itself…

JG: It has to work. You see that critical number of people who survive and continue.

GB: Kinship has been our biggest weapon against colonisation, in a lot of ways, because even though there's been such violent attacks on it and such loss from it too – we're still here. I'm still in this kinship system and I've grown up in it. And there's going to be the generations after me that are going to as well because we were raised in it.

JG: As you describe it, are you sharing this with your family? Not that the language or the terms are needed to be known because like you say, it's continuing to exist anyway. But through your art and these actions (filming ARKAN & IRBELA) together, is that useful in the practical sense to reinstate? I feel like I’m just answering myself.

GB: Yeah I think so. This was a really grand gesture on my behalf to community. Part of the programming with West Space as well is that we're going to do a skin mapping workshop with Anaiwan community. And I think being able to show them that within this framework could be really successful. Having emulated the skin system in such a beautiful way through this very considered film – it's beautiful. I think that also does something for mob as well, to see our own practices in such light.

JG: It’s difficult to find anything like this. I like it when it's like, well (gesturing to the installation) is this art? It's great that there are spaces for art, but we can inhabit it with something that may or may not be that, with something that feels beyond. And they are relatively safe places where we can explore, share, and communicate – it’s pretty useful. Not be controlled. Compared to other gallery spaces, like state galleries for example – the nature of this place is really important for First Nations people.

How this (an artist-led gallery) enables that work to happen. Because each is different – like a university – each of them has something that they want, or want to have control over us, that's the problem. I’ve been exhibiting in a uni gallery right now and I’m happy enough but there's still always that possibility that the work can be hijacked or utilised for some other means. Yes, it’s an ARI’s rock type-situation.

We have some overlaps in ways of thinking of how to be on Country, and walking through Country. And I was excited because of hearing of your walk, and not realising that all of this (gestures to the installation) ii preparation. Which is fantastic because I think I sometimes embark unprepared, or I have maybe a different way which is a little silly. It's almost like, well, I may die because I don't know what I'm doing. I'm sort going off to see what will happen. This is a very heartening way to approach the walk. Would you like to speak to that? Because I was interested in how you decided where it begins and ends.

GB: That's a really good point about being prepared, in that I was gonna be doing the walk solo, but then my family went, "Hmm, girl. What are you doing?" and I thought, I'm a bit scared to do this by myself. And rightfully so. Particularly as I'm trying to get private access. I realised, actually, I can't do this by myself.

But then this realisation happened at the same time that we were having these conversations around skin. I realised, I wouldn't have been left alone. I wouldn't have been doing this by myself. I would have done this with my family. Our skin connects us to Country through its responsibilities and through our totems. It moved the scope from attempting to walk through Country and trying to get access through private property … it's not just about that, it's about us coming back together, and us actually really coming back together through our skin.

Being able to do a walk like this with that knowledge and with us all together is so much more valuable than trying to survive the walk alone and hopefully not get killed, you know?

JG: You're impressive. Really. Because it's meaningful. I grew up with too many Evel Knievel episodes or something. I'm almost wanting to encounter the colonist land pulp. I've got a different approach that's probably a little reckless. I'm here just to learn from you on this visit to Naarm. Thank you.

Because I would like to adjust my thinking through learning. I think that's the joy of when artists can come together. There’s a chance to reflect. So yeah, I'm feeling that you're very wise.

GB: Well I wasn’t wise at the beginning!

JG: I don’t always say what I'm about to do and then I have to get rescued. I've got a long-suffering husband with a very strong Flemish accent so he can't always rescue me easily. I was kayaking – because I'm interested in kayaking through Country as a means to avoid the conversation with landholders, right? But that can mean that I'm trapped and need rescuing. Or that my drone needs rescuing … and my husband had to talk to the landholder, and then had to drive through this place that I didn't think I was going to…It's a long story really. I wonder what I'm doing now in a way sometimes. What is the aim of some of these journeys? I’m wondering whether less journeys but more considered is better. You're making me feel like slowing down, which is helpful.

With this river (points at the painted design on the wall), would you speak to that aspect of the water, and how that could assist what you're doing?

GB: I would like to kayak a fair bit of the distance between Ingelba and Woolbrook, which is along the route, and I'm connected to both places. So I'm really interested in doing that.

It's also about reclamation. It's named MacDonald River after an asshole. So it's also about re-contextualising my relationship with that waterway. Also, one thing that I'm really fascinated by, is with the eels – the short-fin eels that make their way through the MacDonald River, from somewhere like South Korea. They come through the MacDonald River and then they all land in gorge Country where they die.

You know how eels have this weird memory where they start off in one place and they end up in another, and it's this pattern that is so ancient. It's the same thing with skin systems – the eel’s been doing this for a really long time. And I think there's something interesting in the eel's relationship with those waterways and, like looking at this research (on skin systems) in the same way.

My Nan did this research and now I'm doing it as well. So what did she embody, and what am I embodying, that continues in us, to continue to be obsessed with Place and telling its story. The river and the waterways are an incredible way to do that.

Also not wanting to talk to property owners. I was considering going down the waterways because it is considered crown land. So therefore we do have right of access. But that's also dependent on whether or not the farmer respects that. But I'm interested in it, especially because of the loss of water through farming practices.

A couple of years ago when I was up in Armidale, we had 10 months during which we had no water. And during this time, we were in a complete drought but there were really bad farming practices with irrigators that were taking water, stealing water. I'm interested in returning back to my relationship with the waterways through this walk.

JG: Yesterday you talked about showgrounds. I've been on a different trajectory about showgrounds and what they are as a meeting place. But you also had all these extra thoughts, because that's a destination on your walk.

GB: There was mention of people walking from Ingelba to Armidale, it was very specific about walking from Ingelba Aboriginal Reserve to Armidale Showground. I just think that's fascinating, that was the destination, given that a lot of Showgrounds have been ancient meeting places. I've also been told that if you dig under that Showground just a little bit, you'll find all these massive mussel shells, like alluding to a midden being there. And so I just think there was ceremony there, important ceremony. But also show-grounds have an interesting relationship with Blackfellas as well, because it was one of very few places we were allowed to be at or participate in.

And also another thing with, the walking from ‘A’ to ‘B’: In my research I've learnt that a lot of the time it wasn't necessarily walking from A to B and back for mob, it was just a part of this big journey.

I was talking to this guy from local land services who spoke about this yarn he had with a farmer who told him mob used to walk through his property to come to the  Armidale Showground, but they would never return back that way. They would go some other type of route. I just found that so fascinating and I was like, "well that makes sense because we have a different relationship to Place and to people".

JG: There’s always this tension when we share knowledge like that. I always worry if I’m sharing too much or what I should share. I wonder, "wait a minute, are we oversharing?" You all look like nice people (gestures to the audience), but I never know how much to share.

GB: Yeah. I have these inter-titles in the video and at first I thought I don't want to be too descriptive. I didn't want to be too strict on how people could enter this work. but then I was like ‘no’. I think the inter-titles represent something that's really important to this project and that is the revitalisation of Anaiwan culture, and that's a really critical part of my practice.

I'm creating this world and it's rich. It's got so much in it and I don't want people to necessarily comprehend it all in one go. You need to spend time with it and see what happens in the next work.

JG: Yeah, the idea that this is just a part of something so much bigger. I find it useful as an artist as well to not just go "this is it and it's not connected to the next piece".

GB: I'm still trying to figure it out too. This is all relatively new and it's important for us to be able to articulate ourselves in a rich light, with the confidence of not having to be easily digestible or easily explained. Because everything within the work is something that I understand.

JG: Could I ask you to talk about the last supper scene in the video?

GB: In that scene, we're getting grasses ready for weaving. That wasn't the initial idea. The initial idea was that we'd be sitting around having porridge. Porridge is something that's just very heartwarming to me. It's very nostalgic. But it's a poor man's food and it's something that I feel like I’ve finessed. I could make you the yummiest porridge with very simple ingredients. Sugar, salt, you know. It is something that I've had a lot of pride in, and I thought that it could be something that could show our position, where we're coming from. But then I was like, "no, there's a real beautiful resurgence happening in our community". And I'm a weaver, I love weaving. It just made sense at the time to shift it.

JG: Is there anything else you could talk about?

GB: The next thing that comes from this is the walk. I'm working with Liquid Architecture on a commission to create a sound work, that's going to be centered around the walk again. So a lot of this stuff is about preempting the walk. Originally, I was going to have done the walk by now, but then all these conversations started happening. And then that's what formed ARKAN & IRBELA. I realised that I need to do it with family, slow it down. And I'm glad I did. I really believe in slow work and I try and do slow work as much as I can in the face of Capitalism. It's really not that easy when you have deadlines, but I really believe in slow work, that's why I weave. And this work is the product of ten years plus worth of resurgence work.

JG: I can feel it. I can feel the duration. All of those entities before. Embedded in you. They’re in you. And when you're slowing anything down, you're preparing for it in the right way. It's really great to think about that.

Would anyone like to ask a question?

Audience member: It's been incredible having yarns with you and seeing how the journey has unfolded.

Something interesting that we've yarned about in terms of your Nan's book is you going a step further in terms of reclaiming knowledge because you're kind of looking at who your Nan collaborated with to create the book. Also, the consultation and the process, like it's been such an incredible. You've been so rigorous and so thoughtful and amazing in the whole process. It's been phenomenal. And it will continue.

GB: Nan did have issues with the publication in the end. The person she co-wrote it with – a white woman – really, well, had good intentions. Nan wasn't someone who read, and so she relied on Margaret, the co-author, to kind of articulate what she was saying and what the community was saying.

However, Nan felt like she wasn't articulated in the best light. So Nan ended up actually not really liking the book and so that's why she was wanting me to continue on the research as well.

That's informed how this project has happened. It's been very important that I've led it with my family, but also having to really look critically at the history of white feminists working with Aboriginal women, and how it's been a really rough history. It hasn't been great. Being able to see how there's been a history of white feminists still viewing Aboriginal women through an anthropological lens. Because of that, I wanted to ensure that the way in which I represent us was so far removed from an anthropological lens.

That was really critical to me as well. Thank you.

Audience member: As an artist, you're expected to really dish out like a lot of special material. We're expected to sort of, like, dig quite deep. I'm just curious about how you keep yourself safe during that process and like what kind of context that exists within.

GB: You need good company. You need support. You can't do this in isolation because, this work looks really warm and loving, but its foundations come from understanding that my people, there was an attempt at genocide on my people.

It's the space in which I operate in, and therefore it's pretty cool to have people around you who understand you and also understand that you need to be supported because it is heavy. I think it's also a balance as well because I think a lot of the truth telling stuff, that's for mob, but it's also for people, like settler people as well, more so than mob.

I don't want to prioritise people who aren't mob as my primary audience. But I am very particular in what I want to do and what, the intention is behind the work. And I think I want to empower Mob with our stories and therefore that's the space that I'm operating in. But when I'm dealing with harder content, you need to have people around you. You need support.

Audience member: Could you tell us more about the paints? What kind of paint have you used?

GB: I'm not a painter. I've done murals, but I really scared to do this. I guess I trusted the process. I really like the gestural elements of it. It was really important for me to copy my Nan's movements. When I weave in the coiling stitch, I see that as me embodying the same thing as my ancestors, in the same moment. When you weave you relax. It has the same relaxing effect on your eyes.

I was seeing and doing this and that stuff (elements of the painting) in the same way. I was really emotional after I stopped doing this because I just realised I'd spent a week with my grandmother and that meant a lot for me. The painting is really important because it's my strokes on top of hers.

JG: Maybe this is a good place to call it? It's been an amazing day with you.

GB: Likewise