As in these earlier series, in some 7 new paintings, Albert appropriates Preston’s work and signature style to engage with Preston and her ideas and through her with a contemporary public about art, identity, and their interrelation. Retaining Preston’s stark and geometric shapes but filling them in with scraps of fabric from his collection, Albert uses the very same imagery of exploitative tropes that Preston’s work spawned to disturb and complicate their reading and reception today. Colourful vintage fabrics full of text, figures, designs that literally and figuratively read “Aboriginal art” is meticulously composed to evoque or mimic Preston, while offering a dialectical juxtaposition of high art and mass-reproduced culture that is a hallmark of post-War contemporary art.
Less interested in decrying her appropriation and inappropriate use of sacred images without acknowledgment or respect, which goes without saying and has been rehearsed by many other artists who have also taken Preston to task, Albert’s intentions are to reconcile her aims of promoting Aboriginal art within Modernism and the unintended outcome of reducing it to kitsch caricatures and commodity objects. The double appropriation, Preston’s modernist iconography and pop culture’s Aboriginalia, stages the tension between the two in Albert’s work, while reclaiming and returning both to their origin, an Aboriginal maker and rightful inheritor and custodian of the legacies of Aboriginal art, in Modernism and in Aboriginalia. Albert’s approach, that is an earnest conversation with Preston and her legacy, both engages with the premise of her argument and work of positioning Aboriginal art within Modernism and extends it into the present and within contemporary art, where for better or for worse it exists alongside Aboriginalia.
For Albert, much like for Preston for whom still lifes were ‘really laboratory tables on which aesthetic problems can be isolated,’ the quiet radicalism of still lives, the prosaic nature of the subject matter, allows for experimentation with form and meaning and way to explore broader question about genre, gender, self (determination), and cultural appropriation. Nesting Aboriginalia’s troubling presence within Preston’s flowers and domain of domestic respectability, can also be understood as a queer gesture of sorts and part of Albert’s ongoing investigation of visibility and invisibility. But Albert doesn’t hide or conceal Aboriginalia so much as contextualises, interprets and recasts it from an Aboriginal perspective, underscoring its role in the erasure and subjugation of Aboriginal people.
Removing these harmful images and objects, remnants of a violent and oppressive history, as he does, from circulation and their intended use in white homes, cutting up, remixing and resetting them in Preston’s outlines of Native flora, Albert enters them into renewed conversations about Australian Aboriginal identity and contemporary art.
Albert’s with Preston and his reclamation of Aboriginalia enacts the principles Indigenous self-determination, which includes how to deal with and reconcile pernicious legacy and presence of Aboriginalia in contemporary Australia. Turning nineteenth century European landscape and still life genre on its head, Albert’s still lives are similarly bound with ideas of conquest, ownership, and possession but this time of taking back and making one’s own and make proper Aboriginal art, design, and life (including its misappropriation) by and for Aboriginal people. Owning and using Aboriginalia, as Albert and other Aboriginal artists have, restores these objects and images to whence they came from and to those most impacted by their reproduction as racist tropes. That Albert, and other First Nations artists, now critically appropriate, quote, and parody Aboriginalia in their art, where these images and objects now circulate for sale in the contemporary art market as Aboriginal art on its own terms, is a means of reconciliation by way of restitution and reparations. Albert doesn’t stop there: his repurposing and reclamation of Aboriginalia finds its way back into tea towels, coasters, or wearables, making Aboriginal art and design accessible and available outside of the traditional art world, much like Preston had envisioned and perhaps closer to the national visual identity she’d imagined.
ERIOLA PIRA IS A NEW YORK-BASED WRITER AND CURATOR. SHE CURRENTLY WORKS AS A Curator AT The Vera List Center for Art and Politics.