the australian way

Chatback with Tim Bowden

Thank you, Arthur Boyd...

When the remarkably generous Australian artist Arthur Boyd gave to the people his beautiful New South Wales property Bundanon, on the banks of the Shoalhaven river, he hoped it would inspire artists to work there.

The launch of a CD Shoalhaven Rise, this summer, composed at Bundanon, was a dramatic illustration to me of how the Bundanon trust can work—in this case stimulating the creative juices of a bevy of some of Australia's most innovative contemporary musicians.

I did not really know what to expect as I joined an audience of some 300 in front of Bundanon's 1860s–vintage farmhouse, picnicking on a carpet of green lawn. An array of drums, marimbas, bamboo flutes, guitars, didgeridoos, and instruments of quaint shape and design, were assembled under the narrow, wooden veranda facing the front lawn.

As the mellow and haunting notes of Riley Lee's Japanese bamboo shakuhachi flute floated out among the trees and flowering shrubs, a small white–haired man peeped around the corner of the farmhouse to watch and listen. I was not aware that Arthur Boyd was 'at home'—so it was an added bonus to know that Australia's greatest living painter was there to see some of the creative results of his generosity. He looked like a benevolent leprechaun, clearly taking enormous pleasure in the happenings on his front lawn.

The only uncertain elements during that sultry evening were thick, dark clouds moving slowly and heavily overhead. Faint rumbles of thunder could clearly be heard over the steep hills rising up from the river—strangely familiar because they have been painted so often in their many moods by Boyd himself. One cloud, lower than the others, trailing black raggedy tails beneath it, seemed certain to dump catastrophically upon us. The sound–mixer thought so, looking anxiously skywards while his hands played nervously over the controls of the unprotected desk. Unknown to us, a great storm belt had swept in from central New South Wales, dumping rain and hail on the Great Dividing Range, before temporarily washing out a World Series one–day cricket match at the Sydney Cricket Ground, and unroofing some suburban houses with freak bursts of hurricane–like winds.

We were spared. The particularly evil looking cloud moved to the north, the sound–mixer relaxed, and our concert went on, although I thought one of the pieces tempted fate—Summer Rain!

All the music was inspired by the location. At times we were literally surrounded with sound, as composer and performer Michael Atherton materialised behind us with a didgeridoo and strolled through the audience. Atherton told us during the concert that when they were workshopping—at the Bundanon Trust's artists–in–residence cottage—Arthur Boyd had called in to see them. Riley Lee, Daniel Askill and Michael Atherton had every inch of floor space of the elegant, historic home covered with computers, electronic equipment, speakers, cables and instruments, and were worried what Boyd might think about this invasion. They need not have worried. Boyd took in the scene and positively beamed. "Isn't this wonderful! This is how the room should look." And immediately he became involved.

Which was why, to my surprise, the benevolent leprechaun came around the side of the house, and took his place with the musicians. Atherton explained that he had interviewed Boyd on tape about his work at Bundanon, and edited the results to combine the artist's words with a piece called Voices and Rituals. Boyd had agreed to contribute these words 'live' to the concert. There was more. Boyd had mastered the intricacies of a waterphone—an instrument played with a bow, with its singing tone altered as the player moves the water in a metal bowl at its base. It was a bravura performance as Boyd moved from microphone to waterphone. He accepted the applause briefly, and then ducked away.

As we wondered around the Bundanon garden after the concert, I was chatting with David Chalker, the Registrar of the Bundanon Trust, when a volunteer came running up. "Someone has unlocked the studio!" Chalker laughed. "Probably Arthur," he said. Inside Boyd was amiably answering reporters' questions, while a documentary television crew filmed him against the background of his stunning canvases of mountains and rivers.

Michael Atherton (currently the Professor of Music at the University of Western Sydney Nepean) explained that following Boyd's enthusiasm for the Shoalhaven Rise project, he had—feeling extremely presumptuous—asked Boyd if he would consider painting a cover for the CD. "Oh, do you think I could?" Boyd asked. That is the kind of man he is.

I shall not quickly forget that musical evening at Bundanon.

• Tim Bowden is a Sydney–based journalist, broadcaster and author.