ARTRANSIT
AN EXPERIMENT
IN VISUAL ARTS/POETRY COLLABORATION
SYDNEY/NEWCASTLE
PUBLIC ART INFRASTRUCTURE
“…a singular surprise
and delight…” Robert Holden
Since 1992 ARTRANSIT has been
presenting a unique series of contemporary visual arts/poetry collaborations in
poster form inside Sydney & Newcastle buses.
The decision was made in 1999 to
terminate the series while it still had vitality & the capacity to
surprise. Seven years was long enough to mark it as a project of substance
enjoying critical attention &
exhibitions both in Australia & elsewhere
Over this time artworks have included
one of the last pieces of work from the late Tony McGillick, stills from AFI
award winning animations, sculpture, photography, outsider art & a stunning landscape.
These are the poems chosen.
Poets: Michael Leunig, Pamela Brown ,
Grant Caldwell, Viv Kitson, Eric Beach, Les Wicks,
Colleen Burke,
Heather Cam, Andrew Denton, Jutta Sieverding, Richard Tipping, Alan Jefferies,
Mark Miller, Christopher Kelen, Karen Attard, Lauren Williams, Joanne Burns,
Jennifer Compton, Frances Rouse, Kate Humphrey, Leith Morton, Myron Lysenko, Jennifer Compton, Kevin Brophy, Susanne
Lutherborrow
& Joanne Burns.
Artists:
Wendy Chandler, Philip Hammial, Tony McGillick, Kerry Gulliver, Kurt Brereton,
Michael Leunig, Sarah King, Jo-anne Duggan,
Peter Fitzpatrick, Viviana Sepulveda Flores, Sylvia Convey, Lisa Chandler, Mark
S. Leabeater, Michael Schiavello, Lee Ann Rollins, Dennis Nicholson, Jane
Wilson, John de Lombardo & Ron Hartree.
Published by Meuse Press, edited by Les Wicks.
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SERIES ONE
The
TINY BOAT
God bless this tiny little Boat
& me who travels in it
It stays afloat for years & years
& sinks within a minute
& so the soul in which we sail
Unknown by years of thinking,
Is deeply felt & understood
The minute that it’s sinking.
Poem & Graphic by Michael Leunig
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SYNCHRONICITY
Just then, someone said exactly what I was thinking-
"the landscape here is only marginally more
interesting
than walking around with a paper bag over your
head" -
which was what I had been thinking.
Poem by Pamela Brown. Graphic by Wendy Chandler.
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BEACH
Around our naked feet foams that day’s tide.
A solid wind tosses breaking
waves
to soft spume and our breath and words
crumble like sandhill’s
white;
stark
against torn grey clouds.
Memory is the context, fixed
now, final:
a
winter’s day, walking on the beach,
the water’s patterns, changing clouds.
Poem by Viv Kitson, artwork Tony McGillick
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Mountains
Under my skin
mountains
take shape -
curve
of rock
crevice
texture
of blood.
Under my skin
shadows of
mountains
breathe
slowly
Poem by Colleen Burke. Graphic by Kerry Gulliver.
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aim FOR THE
STARS!
He took the file photo of his boss.
15 years younger, a new canvas(s)
stretched smile, delinquent spots lounging
around the chin line & grey eyes mapped
with ambition....not yet stress.
Made photocopies, blow-ups.
Wore them like masks, that chocolate of power.
While the phone rang on uselessly, folded
the pages some origami then
watched the lot drift elegantly into a recycling bin.
Wrote a few letters.
Lunch,
and the slaves are
dancing.
Poem by Les Wicks. Sculpture by Philip Hammial.
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ON HER LOUD YELLOW WALKMAN
On the packed bus
a cry from the front -
Can someone give me a seat please?
I've only got one leg. . .
And with much movement and
shuffling
he gets his seat
a young man
barely twenty
and everyone becomes gravely silent
but for the girl
singing along with Madonna
on her loud yellow walkman.
Poem by Grant Caldwell. Artwork by Kurt Brereton.
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SERIES TWO
TWO/TOO
Tonight alone,
I turn down the sheets
and find a hair
- not mine.
It makes the bed too broad,
my night too long;
and in the morning
an orange has two halves,
the tea-bag is too strong
for one cup.
Poem by Heather Cam. Graphic by
Sarah King.
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THE
PIGEONS IN THE PARK
When I am at home
And it is almost dark
I like to take my legs out
And stroll down to the park.
And there I feed the pigeons
How I love to feed those birds!
I feed the scraps of bread
And I feed them friendly words
I feed them bits of gnocchi
And sometimes Freddo Frogs
And then, when they are nice
& full,
I feed them to the dogs.
Poem by Andrew Denton.
Photograph by Jo-anne Duggan.
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SPRING
DAY
you know the ones I mean
the wind has subsided and
children are rolling in clover -
literally
they're not looking for those
four leaves
that spell luck
but I walk with my head
bowed.
"Spring Day" by Jutta
Sieverding. "Hear the Earth" by Richard Tipping.
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listen to the wind
listen to the wind
worried mind
and write the diary of the
fishes
splashing through the leaves.
Poem by Alan Jefferies.
Photograph by Peter Fitzpatrick.
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SERIES THREE
Flame-tree
I look out on red tongues
of the flame-tree
while you pad about
and prepare breakfast
I watch birds
loop and carol
the tree bursts
with the sun's flares
you dress quietly,
last night's grievance
smouldering within.
Poem by Mark Miller. Photograph
by Viviana Sepulveda Flores.
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TOLERANCE
An angel fallen into muck.
Your work's to see another way.
Dreaming and the waking world
are yet to settle up. Your skin
out there is what you wish, your
pale voice hoarse from shouting.
The place is all unfathomed
sound.
In tin the lost words of the
rain.
Pick from the ashes beams above.
Truth's voice out of air, its
shell.
Poem
by Christopher Kelen. Artwork by Lisa Chandler
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Like An Omen
As spring starts to simmer
wanderer butterflies
hot-foot it to the mountains,
blazoning burnt orange
and black wings: charred
branches
on the ghosts of old flames.
Poem by Karen Attard. Artwork by
Mark S. Leabeater.
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Sunset
With all the poems in the world
pressed to its chest
the sun balanced on the horizon
sagged like an old balloon
took the day deep into the bay
From his shiny car
the man watched the yellow light
between green and red
missed the yellow light
between sea and night.
Poem by Lauren Williams.
Photograph by Michael Schiavello.
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SERIES FOUR
questions
have always