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History of Australian craft

Australian craft

"But perhaps the greatest acknowledgement is due to the people I did not meet; the photographers, diarists, artists, commentators, craftsmen of yesteryear who, in letters, literature and art/craft works, left an enduring, human account of how people wrested life from a harsh land and came to love it." Murray Walker 1978

Considering their cultural foundations lay with pickpockets, poachers and prostitutes, it comes as no surprise that Australians are good with their hands.

In holding cells, Convicts had time to reflect upon the world and it was through their hands that they concentrated the content of their hearts into tangible vesicles of emotion. A King James cross fashioned from stolen metal. A child's doll woven from human hair. Coins defaced of their material value after being scratched with the poignant message: "from rocks and sand and dangers free, protect my love and me."

In the pioneering age, craft ceased to be an expression of the heart and instead became a pragmatic solution to necessity. Living an isolated existence in a harsh and unforgiving land, bushman learnt that there was no one to listen to complaints and no welfare when things got difficult. In times of hardship, the bushmen had no choice but to adapt, improvise and make do. With an optimistic outlook, they developed a can-do culture based on finding lateral solutions to novel problems.

Crafts were fashioned from whatever material was available. A beer mug made from a hollow tree trunk. Coolers made by dripping water over canvas. Hats with corks to swat away the flies. Wheels from sliced tree logs. Ant hills puddled into water and spread across the floor to make a cement like surface. Strips of possum fur wound around the base of table legs to prevent ants invading food.

Such craft served a purely functional purpose and aside from appreciation for ingenuity, they provoked few feelings. But to sympathetic and informed eyes, they now vividly state the material and spiritual aspirations of vanished generations.

The most famous craft of the pioneering era came from the Kelly Gang who fashioned plough shares into body armour. In their thoughts, the Kelly gang imagined iron protecting their bodies as they led the downcast into a revolution. But through history, the armour has become so much more. It has become a muse for creativity; a mask that concealed the face of Kelly, hiding his humanity, leaving nothing but an emotionless warrior. Yet at his trial, the unmasked Kelly revealed the voice of a poetic. A man loyal to his family, his friends and his convictions. Even when all hope was lost, a man of passion, courage and defiance. Such contradictions have inspired artists to paint, to write and to sing his story with his armour representing the essence of his life. 

Towards the end of the 19th Century, some craftsmen evolved into artisans and set about introducing aesthetics into their home. Scrimshaws from bone, bullock horns and emus eggs. Picture frames decorated with gumnuts. Pillow cases sewn from an assortment of animal hides and hessian. Cigar boxes decorated with shards of pottery. A sign on the door of a modest bush hut saying "home."

In the 20th century, farmers and roaming swagman who lacked access to shops, continued to fashion their own solutions to their necessity. Letterboxes made from old milk tins. Automated fishing reels from window blind rollers mounted on a stick. Barbeques from old steel drums. Sticks and vines lashed into beds, gantries, animal traps and shelters.

Recreation was also important and sharing a song with a new friend was a favoured pastime. Needing to travel light, Aboriginal droving hands, swagman and bullockers fashioned musical instruments out of whatever was available. A 'lagerphone' invented by nailing bottle tops onto branches. The 'bones' made from two sawn ribs of a bullock. A didgeridoo made from hollow tree log. A violin from an empty cigar box, wallaby sinews for strings and horse hair for the bow.

With parents too poor to buy them toys, children learnt at an early age that making do was a superior alternative to doing without. Aussie rules footballs made from possum skin filled with charcoal. Cricket bats from a flat piece of timber screwed onto a tree branch. Stumps from old kerosene cans. Go-carts from discarded wheels and packing crates. Powered cars making use of an elastic band and cardboard propellers. Dolls from scrap cloth and straw worked around old boots. The humble boomerang from a curved stick. A shanghai from forked branch and inner tube.

Australians at war also showed them themselves more than capable of finding lateral solutions to novel problems. At Gallipoli, the Diggers fastened mirrors onto their guns to act as a telescope that could safely see over the top of the trenches. For the evacuation, to fool the Turks that Diggers were still fighting, guns were left with a makeshift timer set by dripping water into a can suspended from the trigger. 

In the Vietnam war, the Diggers devised an ingenious mine clearing device towed by a tank. Away from the conflict, others made bongs out of cans, buckets and bottles. Not only did the bongs do a great job in getting them stoned, the simple design helped keep their activities secret from their commanding officers. 

Towards the end of the 20th century, craft making began to flower in the cities. The most notable style was the recycling of fence pailings into tables, picture frames and book covers. Other common crafts included clocks fitted to polished tree burls, timber carved into candle holders and cigar boxes making use of gum nuts embedded in native timbers. In a world flooded with plastic and chipboard, such craft provided character, history, and naturalness. 

With time, the city craftsmen evolved their work so they were not merely producing innovative household goods, they were producing works of art. Some created wood mosaics of the landscape. Others shaped natural timber into sculptures that acted as a catalyst for thought or a reservoir of emotions.

A feature of many of the wooden sculptures are their feminine elements. Perhaps this reflects men sublimating their appreciation for females or women seeking a homo-erotic exploration. More likely though, it stems from the randomness of the Australian timber that compels the craftsmen to reveal mother nature's female form. Unlike the straight grained timber of the northern hemisphere, the grain of Australian timber ebbs and flows like a river. Branches are born only to die, and are then concealed by new layers of bark ala an oyster growing a pearl. In its lifetime, almost every wild tree will be burnt by fire but rather than die, the tree will recover, flowing new growth into and over its scare.

With such a myriad of lines flowing in so many directions, it is not uncommon to discover the timber grain flowing into the curves of breasts or little men in canoes. Not only does the grain reveal feminine lines, but also feelings of delicacy, strength, softness and hardness. 

Arguably, Australia's craft culture is the strongest in the industrialised world. In most countries, people have been removed from the land and no longer have the inclination to do anything other than focus on a career. Even if they wanted to be craft-minded, their homes lack the space for pottery kilns, wielders, band-saws, wood-working lathes or drill presses. To Australia's good fortune, space for such equipment can still be found in backyard sheds or garages. More importantly, many Australians still have that mental frame of mind to recycle, to adapt, to innovate and most importantly, to use their hands.