Artist Statement

 

As I explored Curl Curl Lagoon—from Harbord Road through Stirgess and Adam Street reserves, down to the estuary, and along the shoreline from North Curl Curl Beach to the South Curl Curl Rock Pools—I was searching for signs of life, traces of ecological vibrancy. I had hoped to find flowers, seeds, seaweeds, and molluscs to study. I was interested in the narratives that weaved between species—between soil, sand and sea.

 

As I traced the lagoon to the shoreline, there were no soft flannel flowers, no molluscs clinging stubbornly to the sandstone, and no seaweed resting on the shore. Instead, I was met with a profound sense of absence. Several signposts erected along the entry of the lagoon read ‘Do not swim, water contaminated by sewage’. Algal blooms sprouted amongst the reeds, swamp hens waded through trash to reach their nests and fish swam between shopping trolleys and wheelie bins.

 

While I’d returned to the studio empty handed, at a loss to where I should begin, I read the history of Curl Curl Lagoon and its surrounds. I’d learned the waters of the lagoon were once clear blue, home to large fish, crayweed washed in and out on high tide, the low lands featured banksia trees, flannel flowers and most likely rare native orchids. I’d also learned of the consistent drainage issues with flooding, the site being used as an unofficial dumping ground since 1905 and then officially from the 50s until 1980. Curl Curl’s rich ecology had been permanently altered by the impacts of contamination and abuse, typical symptoms of colonial industrialisation.

 

What I’d also learned was the community local to the lagoon consistently, as early as records began, cherished the site, its ecological diversity was recognised and championed by many. The gradual degradation and loss was felt heavily.  Absence I, II and III address this loss through the use of negative space and material. Made from the plaster remnants of algae moulds cast in aluminium the ‘fossils’ present a record of what once was, a material memory of soft fragile bodies immortalised. 

 

 

It’s easy to dwell in the sadness of what was lost, to sit with a bleeding heart for too long. However, there are ways to move through it, to recognise the importance of its impact on our lives—sometimes profound, other times subtle. In reciprocity, we have a responsibility to give voice to that which seems mute, to present a story that prioritises mutuality and regeneration. Curl Curl Lagoon and Friends have done exactly that — through many acts of kindness since the formation of the group in 1980 until present, countless locals have generously donated their time to prioritise the regeneration of the Curl Curl ecosystem.

 

Farewell Warning references stories told by Alan Newton and Lorna Plate Curl Curl locals picking abundant flannel flowers (Actinotus helianthi) by the lagoon in  20s and 30s.  Flannel flowers have long since disappeared from the landscape, however the community diligently works to reverse the environmental degradation which has erased them. The plaster gathered on the floor  of the gallery references the Curl Curl Lagoon as a dumping ground for industrial building waste. From plaster waste blooms a flannel flower entombed in bright green bee and petroleum wax. Sprouting up and out towards the ceiling the flannel flower emerges as a symbol of resilience, its absence is no longer coopted by sadness, its’ story becomes potent enough to mobiles a village emerging as actant for change.

 

The impacts of regeneration on the soil always has positive ramifications on the sea. Drifting, Drifting, Drifting is the wax encased form of a crayweed (Phyllospora comosa) stipe. Like the flannel flower, crayweed has been erased from the Curl Curl seascape due to pollution.  However, this ghost may be too resurrected. 

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- Chrystal Rimmer 2024