Drumming and Dancing up place

Land-guage?

Our more-than-human landscape's drumming the wild

Memory linked with ceremonial metaphor.

We, country's human counterparts, attempt transliteration.
Do hosts read country for their guests?
Or does the land read every footprint and teach its own lessons?
What or who embodies its voice?

Travelling words lose their roots, reading replaces monstrous awe,
Maps poor substitutes for memory's metaphors.
Written waymarks replace the loss of the oral
(their placedness retains but remnant power).
Perhaps a sense of country remains?
Embedding us in this site's place and its long history and dreaming...
Our human/nature relationships exposed and celebrated.
Our oral culture remains in music's improvisation;
The land's tempo dimly reflected in our contrived percussions.
Can our arts transcribe this nature?

{For those interested in the words we used, here is the list:

[Standing sticks]

Goshawks, bandicoots, and humans stealing eggs (Winter chook pen)

Wearfucaria (Grass over path to view)

Fragile future of the sacred (Regenerating rainforest)

Bower birds welcoming (Pool)

Lookfar (Artist-in-residence, a straw bale with view)

Finding beauty in slow craft (Artist-in-residence studio)

Weeds mean way too much work... (Organic garden)

[Hanging sticks]

Gracilenta chorus celebrating rain (Top dam)

Bunyip wallow (Bottom dam)

Telling stone (Glade below stage)

Dancing Richmond Birdwing butterflies (Summer chook pen)

The smell of wood invokes the uncut forest (in the midst of artisanship)

There’s no such thing as too many books (Art library store)

[Lying sticks]

Trailing clouds of glory, remembering moons (Stage)

The Underhills lived off the fruits of their labour (Orchard)

What lies beneath? Close to the edge! (Roof of underground house)

[Signs]

Toilet, please knock first (West end house)

Toilet (at end) (East end house)

Thinking and Creating for the love of place (Site for shed extension) [With image]

[Pointing signs]

The open road (Top east road)

To future friends (Top west road)

Stage path}

I produced words that satisfied both their insurance requirements (listing dangers, perils, and pitfalls) and my own sense of inhabiting this land:

The Cooroora Institute is based on a beautiful steep property on the hinterland of the Sunshine Coast. Its long views mean steep paths, its rainforest regeneration and organic gardens mean open waters, its serious craft/art production means working studios with big machines as well as artists and trainees in residence, its expansive horizons mean expanding buildings and plans, and its connection to the environment embraces all aspects of nature – from wallabies and bower birds to scrub turkeys and snakes, leeches or ticks. The Cooroora Institute’s commitment to connecting with the site specific means activities take place outdoors whenever possible, so come in sensible shoes and prepared for all weather. Lastly, beware the bunyip!

(Strangely enough, the insurance company seemed unconcerned about the bunyip.)

The bus and cars arrived around 11am on a perfect Monday. We provided a manicured area and paths leading to wilder places, along with hundreds of homemade biscuits and lemon cordial, tea, coffee served by Anika. Short talks around the outdoor stage was followed by small groups and individuals finding places to play. In amongst the duties of hospitality, I managed to catch a glimpse of Vanessa playing with the frogs in our dam, and of someone playing a tree in a small glade along with dancing. For a moment, I sat upstairs and heard improvisations coming from all parts of our property – our land was being played to, the Australian Percussion Group proving that humans can collaborate with nature.

But that moment was wrapped with our busyness – we served 7 soups, breads, condiments, fruit platters for lunch and then a fire was lit in front of the stage and various groups gave concerts while Jan Baker-Finch and Zsuzsi Soboslay danced their interpretations of the soundscapes of this land. While some of the group left to meet airport deadlines, many stayed for mulled wine as the sun set around the fire. It was a beautiful, exhausting and exhilarating day.

The next day we walked our place looking for and finding the changes wrought by such a drumming and dancing up of land. Perhaps, for us all – hosts, participants, and land – this is best described as a sense of honour, a collaborative respect. The sense of place is found within our bodies and their senses; our bodies extensions of the land itself. Maybe on that day and in this place, such connection was only possible through the allied graces and the comradeship of the Australian Percussion Group. The spirit of the land is with us, and we are, all, honoured.