Human beings are a paradoxical species. Our claims of inclusivity often lead to increased demonisation of those perceived as different. Our attempts to safeguard pure, untouched wilderness are contradicted by a simultaneous urge to explore these areas.
Within this context, Australian sculptor Patricia Piccinini has crafted her unique interpretation of wilderness, delivered as part of the Galway International Arts Festival held at the Galway Festival Gallery. The gallery teems with her creations; creatures that are both alien and strangely recognisable. Piccinini conveys such a delicate sense of vulnerability through her art, you may find yourself with unexpected reactions like an urge to nurture and protect Clutch, a featherless yet partially furry sculpture that symbolises a pelican caring for her young while gradually transforming into a boot.
Piccinini’s artwork has evolved over time. From traditional placements on pedestals and in movies to creating dioramas or, as she prefers to call them, display habitats, which recall the Victorian era’s fascination with nature and disturbingly, human zoos. In the Galway exhibition, the artificiality of the landscapes is intentional and it heightens the hyperrealism of the sculpted beings. It offers a glimpse into a future where only manufactured approximations of nature remain, reminiscent of Joni Mitchell’s Tree Museum in Big Yellow Taxi. It also prompts musings on the potential need for animal mutations for survival and consequent human adaptability.
The elements occupying the Galway diorama have taken shape over an extended period and Piccinini exhibits a deep understanding of natural marvels as she describes them. She also expresses a painful bewilderment at humanity’s capacity for causing environmental destruction. Her piece “Safely Together” is a blend of pangolin and shoe. The pangolin, being the world’s most trafficked animal, is currently listed as critically endangered; it is a remarkable creature, uniquely the only mammal possessing scales. However, these scales, coveted in Chinese medicine, attract ruthless human predation, revealing humanity’s unnerving resourcefulness in hunting and decimating them.
Piccinini’s creative vision perceives the pangolin encased in a shell resembling a sneaker, crafted to serve as a protective mechanism against human threats. Her work beckons contemplation on the issue of human interference in nature for the sake of its survival. Is transforming the pangolin synonymous with its demise as a species? Piccinini keeps her own beliefs on this matter ambiguous, underlining the significance of the questions being asked.
Visitors to the gallery encounter the distinctive soundscape of Scar, from the Australian band Cloud Control. This forms the auditory backdrop for Piccinini’s film, We Travel Together, screened in the adjacent space. Narrating an affectionate tale of a girl and a creature, the artist elucidates a key realisation: the creature requires a counterpart from its own species. The dependency of humans on creatures isn’t mirrored reciprocally.
Among the displayed works are noses and drooping bare skin, peculiar ears and tails. Though one might anticipate repulsion, a kind handclasp displays a tender grasp of cherishing.
Piccinini, a renowned artist who represented Australia in the Venice Biennale of 2003 and first showcased in Ireland at the Galway International Arts Festival in 2015, has an exhibition named Relativity, where her enormous Skywhale floated above the city, adding magic to the festival experience. Reflecting back, she pondered on the evolution of life from the sea, the subsequent transformation to terrestrial creatures, and then the return to the ocean. Piccinini imagined the potential outcomes if the evolution had involved flight rather than marine adaptation.
The soft yet intense conversational style of Piccinini, a dark-haired, delicately featured woman, exudes profound concern for the current global predicament. In a reflection of our earlier discussion, she remembered her revelation from her anatomical studies—that human similarity isn’t skin-deep contrary to popular belief. That conversation, she admits, feels like ancient history and she expresses feeling like an entirely different person. Human mortality and its universal implications frequently preoccupy her thoughts. She expresses a deep interest in the human physical form and our reception of differences.
“We often conceive the notion that our interior biology is standardised,” she elaborates. “We, however, vary tremendously.” She verifies that no two human livers, and by extension human beings, are the same, and that’s even before considering the variety of other species. The issue lies in understanding and accepting these differences. “It’s not necessarily improving,” she states, candidly. Over time, she has delved into the mysteries of genetics, mutation, the extraordinary abilities of stem cells, the concepts of bio-engineering and bio-hacking, and even speculated on the potential affection between two motor scooters.
Her artistry is reminiscent of the hyperreal carvings of her fellow Australian, Ron Mueck, but that is merely a launching point. At times, her humanoid structures, constructed from silicone and fibreglass, possess snouts, talons, and unusual sprouts of hair. In other scenarios, hybrid creatures seem to urge us to notice them while also desiring solitude. “I have invited the observer to engage with an entity, a creature that is unlike us. And that’s quite challenging, as we are innately wary of what’s different,” the artist expresses. “So that’s the journey the viewer has to embark on with my artwork: is empathy achievable? Can we envision ourselves as this creature?”
Piccinini had always harboured the ambition to become an artist, yet her father of Italian descent strongly disapproved. According to his beliefs, artists were people of the calibre of Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo. Consequently, Piccinini switched paths and delved into the study of economics instead. This taught her the scope of the multiple perspectives that the world can be understood from, providing her with valuable insights into the underlying assumptions that shape economic models. She argues that these models carry serious biases – assumptions are made about human behaviour and tendencies, and everyone’s perceived as being the same. This, to her, felt more like a doctrine rather than a reflection of reality. The realisation that such principles govern the entire financial sphere, which she deemed illogical and incongruent with her personal beliefs of compassion, led to a revelation.
She criticized the economic perspectives which are fundamentally biased to certain social and geographical worldview, ignoring the accomplishments of successful tribal societies, while also conveniently overlooking the noticeable shortcomings and ever-more apparent defects in capitalism. Piccinini asserts her agreement with this critique of economic models failing to encompass various aspects of reality. She describes her diorama as a haven for excluded beings and displaced ideas that don’t conform to”The model”. Furthermore, she believes that the distinct essence of sanctuary, sensitivity and affection is what defines the power and profoundness of her work.
In the piece entitled ‘While She Sleeps’, observers are intrigued by a male being who looks after his counterpart. Peculiarities such as unusual ears, flabby bare skin, and tails are present in the piece alongside snouts. Although these may not be conventionally attractive features, a tender act of holding hands elicits warmth and empathy from the audience. This fine balancing act risks the possibility of overemotionalising the work, though avoids tipping the scale. A piece named ‘Couple’ depicts two lovers intertwined, tucked away in a quaint caravan located near the main installation. Intruding on this intimate moment induces a feeling of overstepping boundaries, as if invading a private scene not meant for our visual consumption. It poses a crucial question to the observer about the innate human tendency: would one want to safeguard this not-so-human duo, or would they wish to eliminate them for societal purity? It’s profoundly unsettling to think that there are those who would favour the latter.
Diving into Piccinini’s creations, one is curious whether she, as an individual, felt a sense of belonging during her youth. Admitting to her migratory background, she recalls her grandmother’s journey from Sligo to England, her mother’s relocation from England to Africa and her own birth in Sierra Leone. She was partially raised in Italy before relocating to Australia when she was seven years old. This constant shifting of homes and somewhat unsettled life has undeniably influenced her art. Her departure from Sierra Leone was due to the civil war ravaging the country. She describes a time coloured by violence and fear, admitting that her childhood wasn’t peaceful despite not being a boat refugee.
She emphasises her desire for belonging and integration, speaking about how swiftly she discarded her Italian accent when she arrived in Australia, an experience many migrant children resonate with. Piccinini admits these experiences have framed her approach to her work. She aims to create art that speaks from within a culture, not as an exterior omnipotent observer. Because her sense of inclusion is not something she takes lightly, her work sheds light on various important issues from an internal perspective. She refutes the idea of equating the cost of production to marginal revenue, stating that it lacks the consideration of human values.
For her, the comprehension of nature at this point in time is the primary focus. She notes, “We are amidst a climate crisis, and any contemporary artist who neglects to incorporate this into their dialogue may as well be detached from their community. The urgency cannot be ignored.” When setting up the diorama in Galway, her crew, managed by her creative and personal companion, Peter Hennessey, rummaged through Galway’s local stores for antiquated set pieces, pallets, platforms, rugs, and other discarded items from previous festivals.
Giving a look at what lies beneath is akin to observing the chronological layers of past artworks. Each one, in its distinct manner, strives to delve into the significant topics of its era. The Oligarch’s Nightmare by David Mach, John Gerrard’s Flare, an elegy for the warming planet; and Ana Maria Pacheco’s Remember, suggestive of brutality, submission, and control are all past contributions. Patricia Piccinini’s We Travel Together represents another chapter in this compelling sequence of artists appealing for our acknowledgment. Whether we decide to pay heed this time around, however, is our choice.
Patricia Piccinini is set to engage in a dialogue with the artistic director of the Galway International Arts Festival, Paul Fahy, at the Festival Gallery on the 18th of July at noon. In addition, a Touch Tour is scheduled for the 18th of July at 11 am. The exhibit will be open from the 15th to the 28th of July at the Festival Gallery on William Street. Entry is complimentary.