Collaboration & Community Transforming the Conditions of Everyday Life

Nicole Barakat

I have been working as a lead artist and facilitator with communities for almost fifteen years. It was only after I graduated from art school that I gained my education in community arts and cultural development. Through my direct experiences of working with communities as well as informal mentorships with experienced arts and community workers, I developed a passion for a way of working that now sustains my art practice.

Those women who mentored me worked, and still work, with communities from a political and social justice perspective, primarily supporting women of colour, refugee and asylum seeker communities, migrant women, LGBTQIA+ (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual. Transgender, Questioning / Queer, Intersex and Asexual / Allies) communities, and other peoples on the fringes of the supposed centres of society.

My experiences in these circles taught me not to make a division between my work as an artist and my politics. Making art with people is a political act and inevitably creates change in ways that aren’t always measurable.

I consciously approach my practice in community engagement and education in a non-hierarchical way. I have a body of knowledge and experiences and so do the people I am working with. I value this process as an exchange of our knowledge, skills, experiences − a genuine collaboration.

Therefore one of the most important aspects of my projects is building trust with participants and establishing a mutual respect for each other. Forming genuine connections, and sometimes friendships, with participants is just as vital as the final work we produce. My connection with communities does not exist in a vacuum. The ability to build trust depends heavily on the existing relationships that participants already have with the organisation, curator or producer. So far, I have mainly worked on collaborative community projects that have been initiated by existing arts organisations or arts institutions. The projects that I feel have worked well have been those that were initiated by individuals or organisations that have an already existing relationship with community participants.

I will focus on two projects that I feel have achieved key goals for myself, the participants and the broader community and audience. These goals are:

▲ to build trust and establish sustainable connections ▲ to create meaningful experiences and value the process over the product ▲ to transform the conditions of our everyday lives

The works I make in collaboration with communities are for the communities we are in. If an outside audience also gains something from that, then that is great but that is not the original intention of the project.

My solo art practice and my collaborations with communities are driven by my intuition. From the techniques and approaches to the interpersonal relationships, there are many complexities that come into play. The way I work can be very subtle and gentle at times, but I still know it makes an impact when participants relax into it, and engage and respond and create and have fun.

One of the first projects that heralded a significant shift in the way I was engaging with communities was in 2010/2011. The Campbelltown Arts Centre’s curator Rosie Dennis invited me to participate in a four-week experimental “live” arts lab called Site Lab where about ten artists took up residence in various public places in a small suburb in South West Sydney called Minto.

The premise of my proposal was the very simple starting point of making string from domestic cloth donated by residents of Minto. Through the process of making, in collaboration with local communities, we would decide together what the final outcome would be. This was the first time a curator trusted in my process as an artist and allowed me to approach a project so openly. I had faith that the poetics of strings could be strong enough to stand on its own, and, moreover, would form the perfect record of our gatherings, conversations and time spent making.

From 10am to 4pm, Monday to Friday I could be found in the vacant local post office inside the slowly disintegrating Minto Shopping Mall. Within the empty shop front, I created a makeshift lounge area where residents could gather, make string, chat, and have a cup of tea (Fig. 1).

After four weeks, I had worked with young people from the local high school and many residents. Some participated for a short time only, while others dedicated themselves to joining me every day. The meditative, slow process of string making inevitably created a new sense of time and routine for participants. It was an invitation to stop, to gather, to sit, and to be in the moment of making string. Moments which triggered memories of a mother back in Papua New Guinea making string daily from plant fibres; which initiated first conversations between old neighbours who had never spoken because of the stigma of befriending anyone who lived on “the other side of Pembroke Road”. My main collaborator, Laurie Porter, was a prolific maker of extremely fine crochet using sewing thread. For Common Threads, Laurie created hundreds of metres of beautiful, tightly spun, string. When one of the participants, Vicki Andrews, affirmed, “there wouldn’t be a home in Minto without crochet”, I immediately knew what we needed to do with our hand spun string.

As crochet was not one of my existing skills, I took a crash course from my sister and quickly appreciated the free-form sculptural potential of this technique. We made a series of large crochet doilies that were essentially drawings with our string. Our hand spun cloth string now embodied the moments shared throughout the making process － and was also heavily imbued with all the stories the textiles had absorbed prior to coming to us (Fig. 2).

I invited donations of domestic cloth from local residents for a reason. At the time, Minto was a community that was facing much change, with new private housing developments being built over demolished social housing. The breaking up of the existing community and relocation of so many residents had caused a lot of pain for them, as well as increasing conflicts with new residents moving into the new private housing.

Fig. 1 Artist Nicole Barakat engages with community members during “Minto: Live” at Sydney Festival 20-22 January 2011, Minto NSW. Curated by Rosie Dennis for Campbelltown Arts Centre. Photo credit: Christina McLean

Fig. 2 Common Threads (detail) / 2011 Hand spun and crocheted domestic cloth donated by Minto residents Photo credit: Nicole Barakat

Lindee Russell and Natalie Power decide on the layout of the textile pieces on the platform of the Narrandera Railway Station, October 2015. Photo: Nicole Barakat

As Rosie Dennis noted, “Minto had something like 80 percent social housing. It gets such a bad rap: all the lead stories are about shootings or drugs or things getting set on fire. But there’s more to this suburb. I wanted to show a different side of it.” 1

Working with a very intimate material and familiar process and bringing the usually private, domestic, act of making into a public space, could we create a space where residents could connect with their old and new neighbours, and also reflect on the transformation of their community?

My art practice is rooted in the language of materials. They offer an invitation to our senses, an opportunity to engage physically and emotionally, conjuring responses that reach beyond the intellectual.

I like to work with materials that are loaded with meaning, and which have the potential for that meaning to be dismantled. This language of materials enables me to find new ways of speaking and understanding. The language of materials has the capacity to embody ideas and emotions, and presents us with opportunities to communicate that can only be spoken through the absence of words. A different language is a different reality.

Domestic, reused pieces of cloth are materials with stories. Materials that arrive with a history, that have borne witness, have absorbed time and heard many stories. These materials are significant because they are already connected to us. By simply being present with us in everything we do, they retain a part of our physical selves, our hair, skin we’ve shed, body fluids, leaving stains, marks – visible, invisible. The familiarity of cloth, and our extremely intimate relationship with cloth creates a warm and comfortable starting ground for community art projects.

"Working with a very intimate material and familiar process and bringing the usually private, domestic, act of making into a public space, could we create a space where residents could connect with their old and new neighbours, and also reflect on the transformation of their community? ".

I consider my art practice as my “home”. When I make my own work, or facilitate a collaborative project, I am inviting audiences and participants into my “home”. In my own cultural and familial traditions, I must give my visitors a comfortable place to sit, a warm drink, and of course, an abundance of food (metaphorically and literally). Acts of generosity within community arts projects are the key to deeper engagement and building genuine connections amongst people.

In 2015, curator Bec Dean of Performance Space, Sydney, invited me to work on my first collaborative community artwork together with artist-led organisation The Cad Factory. The Cad Factory is in the rural community of Narrandera, on the land of the Wiradjuri people, about 540 km south west of Sydney.

As this was my first time working in a rural community, I was conscious of my privileges as an artist operating in a major city centre. I also had very little knowledge or connection with the women I was about to work with, but knew we had one thing in common − textiles.

I knew of other artists who had worked with Vic and Sarah McEwan from The Cad Factory and knew that after moving there from Sydney five years earlier, they had created a series of projects with the community and had quickly earned the respect and trust of the residents of this small town.

The Cad Factory creates immersive and experimental work guided by authentic exchange, ethical principles, people and place.2 By the end of this project, I understood more about the vital role that the arts and The Cad Factory play in Narrandera. On two different occasions, women who were involved with the project informed me that they had previously planned to relocate from Narrandera when their children became teenagers, but that The Cad Factory changed that for them − as there was now something genuinely worth staying for.

The brief was very open, with two main starting points: a large community of women who work with textiles and the desire to make a collaborative work for a three-day arts festival, On Common Ground (Fig. 3). The festival was to be held in the Narrandera Commons, a bush reserve and koala regeneration park alongside the Murrumbidgee River. The festival addressed the impacts on Narrandera of colonisation, the development of agriculture, species extinction and reduction, continuing environmental changes, and resource management initiatives associated with the river.

For our first gathering, participants were invited to bring a textile piece they had made to share with the group. This gathering would be an opportunity for me to find out what interested them, what skills existed in the community, what they were interested to know more about, and for them to get to know me and my artwork.

We gathered over two days and over forty local women from the community participated. In a town of 3,871 people, I was thrilled. In fact, it has been rare for community art projects I have been involved in to reach this many people for initial meetings in a city as large as Sydney. The women had a rich diversity of knowledge and experience in textiles and the arts. Their desire to gain new skills and common interests in working with materials from the land, led us to work with eco-dyeing.

Over three further visits, we set up eco-dyeing camps on the banks of the Murrumbidgee River, as well as

Fig. 4 Proud and elated after the first day of eco-dyeing in the Narrandera Common, May 2015 Photo credit: Vic McEwan

the platform of the seldom-used train station. Using water from the river, native and introduced plants from the commons, as well as plants from the women’s homes, we dyed about twenty old wool blankets and scraps of silk sourced from second hand stores in the region. We managed to stay in the moment, agreeing that we would not consider the outcome until closer to the festival date (Figs. 4-5).

Over the week leading up to the festival, we constructed a total of twenty-six large textile works with the cloths we dyed. This process was largely directed by the women themselves, my job was mainly to work out the logistics of the installation as a whole. Fortuitously, it turned out that a total of twenty-six people worked on the project; after the festival, the works were divided amongst all who participated, including our installation team. Everyone managed to keep a piece of this collaborative work.

Each piece of cloth became a record of this place and its community. The dyed and resistprocess marks on the cloth bore silent witness to our gatherings – offering a memory of the conversations, laughter, and ideas exchanged. The work itself was created by many hands and hearts, and across a number of generations (from 4 years old to 86 years old). The work, titled I think I still hear the sky vibrating... acted as a reminder of the importance of collaboration, of coming and of being together, as artists, as makers, and as a community (Fig. 6). I returned to Narrandera a year later to work on a second project with The Cad Factory called Shadow Places for the Sydney Design Festival. I have continued to deepen my relationship with many of the women. On a recent visit to a friend in nearby Wagga Wagga, I made the extra 100 km drive to Narrandera. As I was approaching the town, I felt a sense of returning home. The familiarity of the wide-open landscape, witnessing storm clouds forming in the distance, the bright yellow of the canola, I realised what this town and these people meant to me. I was coming back out of choice, to visit my friends, to see their exhibition, to share a meal. This is what a genuine, trusting, sustainable connection feels like. This is what a meaningful experience that definitively transforms the conditions of our everyday lives feels like.

Notes:

1 Irvine, Samantha. “Suburbanites take to their front lawns for a new kind of theater festival − Minto Live”, in Makeshift issue 5, http://mkshft. org/minto-live/ (accessed 27 November 2017).

2 The Cad Factory Artistic Vision, http:// www.cadfactory.com.au/about (accessed 27 November 2017).

Fig. 6 I think I still hear the sky vibrating… (detail) / 2015 Reused wool blankets and silk cloth, eco-dyes sourced from plants and trees in the Narrandera common and the Riverina Curated by Bec Dean and created with support from The Cad Factory and Performance Space. Photo credit: James T Farley

Nicole Barakat

Artist, Australia

Nicole Barakat is an artist who lives and works in Sydney, Australia. She works to unpick the borders of art and life, re-examining intersections between drawing and textiles, collaboration, live work and communityengagement. Her work embodies the love and patience that often characterises traditional textile practices. Barakat approaches making as a form of meditation, with intentions to transform the conditions of everyday life, conjuring new ways of thinking, feeling and envisioning reality.

Barakat’s practice includes extensive collaborative community-engagement. Within this practice, she sees respect and equality as the leading principles that drive the exchange of experience, knowledge and skills.

Her most recent project, Shadow Places (a collaborative project with community in Narrandera, New South Wales), was exhibited as part of Sydney Design Festival at the Powerhouse Museum in partnership with the Cad Factory and the Museum of Applied Arts and Sciences. Nicole has a passion for the potential of imagination and art to create social change.

妮歌．巴拉卡特

我擔任社區活動中的首席藝術家和主持人已接近十五年。從藝術學校畢業之後，我取得了社 區藝術文化發展的學歷。透過直接與不同群體合作的經驗，以及從事社區、藝術工作之前輩 的指導，我培養出一種工作熱誠，現成為自己的藝術創作方向。

那些曾指導過我的女性，一直都以社會公義爲出發點去參與社區工作，包括支援不同種族的 女性、難民和尋求庇護者之社區、移民女性、性小衆（女同性戀者、男同性戀者、雙性戀者、 跨性別者、性身份疑惑／酷兒、雙性人和盟友／無性。），以及邊緣階層。

參與這些群體的經歷令我明白到，不需要將藝術作品及政治立場兩者劃清界線。與他人共同 創作本身就是一個政治行爲，所帶來的改變往往不可估量。

我有意不分階級地進行社區參與、教育兩方面的項目，如我一樣，合作對象也有他們自己的 知識和經驗。我珍視這份工作為知識、技術與經驗的交流，是名副其實的合作。

因此我眾多項目主要的目標之一，是與參加者建立信任和互相尊重。真誠的關係甚至友誼對 我們的創作尤爲關鍵。

我與這些社群的聯繫並非憑空出現的。參加者與主辦機構、策展人或製作人已有的關係，對 建立信任十分重要。到目前爲止，我開展的社區合作計劃，皆是由藝術機構發起，若計劃前 預先和參與社群建立關係，往往會帶來更好的成效。

接下來，我會集中説明實現了自己、參加者、廣大觀衆和社區之主要目標的兩個項目。這些 目標為：

-建立信任和可持續的關係 -創造有意義的經驗，重視過程而非結果 -改變我們日常生活的狀態

我與不同群體所創作的作品，皆是以身處的社區為對象。如果一個外來觀衆也從作品中有所 得著，無疑也是好事，但這並非計劃目的。

我向來跟從直覺去做個人的藝術創作、與其他群體的合作。從技巧、方式，到人際關係，不 同的因素都會影響創作。我的創作方式可以非常含蓄溫和，但仍能在參加者放鬆自己去參與、 回應、創作與享受的過程中影響他們。

「透過運用一種非常私人的物料、熟悉的過程去創作，甚至將私人居家的行爲 搬到公共空間進行，我們又可否藉此將人們與他們的新舊鄰居連結起來，並一 同反思所在社區的轉變？」

2 0 1 0 至 2 0 1 1 年 度 的 一 個 項 目 ， 對 我 參 與 社 群的 方 式 影 響 深 遠 。 坎 貝 爾 藝 術 中 心 的 策 展 人 Rosie Dennis 邀請我參加爲期四周的「Site Lab」（場地實驗室），實驗現場藝術，其時在 悉尼西南部郊區 Minto 大概有十個藝術家在區 内不同的公共空間駐場。

我的計劃前提很簡單，就是邀請 Minto 的居民 捐出布料，並一起將之製成一條繩子。在製作過 程中，大家共同決定成品如何。那是第一次有策 展人如此信任我作為藝術家去創作，並容許如此 開放地進行一個項目。我深信這條意味深長的繩 子會很牢固，並成爲我們聚會、對話和合作時間 的最佳紀錄。

每逢星期一至五，從早上十點到下午四點，我 都會在 Minto 一座十室九空的購物商場内廢 置的郵局駐場。空蕩的店面變成一個臨時會客 廳，社區居民可以在此聚集、造繩、交談和喝 茶（Fig. 1）。

四個星期後，我已經與許多當地高中生和居民合 作過。有些人只參與了一段短時間，有的則每天 都會出現。製作繩子這個安靜而緩慢的過程，為 人們建立起一種新的規律和節奏。這個計劃邀請 人們停下忙碌的步伐，圍坐一團，專注於製作繩 子的當下，恍似巴布亞新幾内亞的母親每天用植 物纖維造繩之日常活動，又如不相往來的多年鄰 居終於有機會認識彼此。

我的主要合作夥伴 Laurie Porter 是一名多產的 鈎織專家。她會用縫紉線製作出極精細的鈎織 品，並爲「Common Thread」（共同線）項目 織成幾百米漂亮緊實的繩子。當其中一名參加者 Vicki Andrews 斷言 Minto 每個家庭都會有鈎織 品，我馬上意識到手織繩子的用武之地。 由於沒有學過鈎織，我姐姐給我上了一節速成 課。我很快就領略到這種技術蘊含著形式自由的 塑形潛力。我們用自製的繩子製作一系列大型的 鈎織杯墊。這些手織布繩代表著製作時共度的時 光，更承載著布料在捐出前的故事（Fig.2）。

我特意邀請當地居民捐出他們的家庭布料。因爲 當時 Minto 是一個正面臨巨變的社區：從前的 公共房屋被夷爲平地，新的私人物業取而代之。 現有的社區被拆散，許多居民因爲被遷離原居地 而大受打擊，也令他們與新搬入的私人樓宇住戶 之間發生衝突。

正如 Rosie Dennis 所説：「Minto 有達八成的 公共房屋，令到這個地方惡名昭著：所有頭條新 聞都是關於槍擊、毒品與縱火等。但種種並非 這個社區的全部，我希望能展現出它的不同面 貌。」 1

透過運用一種非常私人的物料、熟悉的過程去創 作，甚至將私人居家的行爲搬到公共空間進行， 我們又可否藉此將人們與他們的新舊鄰居連結起 來，並一同反思所在社區的轉變？

我的藝術創作植根於物料的語言，以促發感官去 體驗，透過身心去感知及參與，從而產生超越理 性的回應。

我喜歡運用那些既有深意，同時又可以解構的物 料去創作，並從這些物料語言尋找新的説話和理 解方式。它們可以承載意念和情感，並給我們一 個不用言語的溝通機會。不同的語言反映出不同 的現實。

家用和循環再用的布料是有故事的物料。那些見 證過歷史的布料浸淫了時間和故事，並因爲與我

Fig. 1 2011年1月20至22日悉尼藝術節舉辦 「Minto: Live」，藝術家妮歌．巴拉卡特與社區成 員的互動項目。坎貝爾藝術中心的Rosie Dennis策 劃。攝影：Christina McLean

Fig. 2 《Common Threads》（局部）/ 2011 Minto 居民捐出的手工鈎織家用布料 攝影：妮歌．巴拉卡特

們的關係而變得重要。它們在日常生活中與我們常在： 脫落的髮膚、流下的汗水在這些衣物上，留下可見或 隱形的痕跡，保留了我們身體的一部份。熟悉的布料， 以及我們與它們極親密的關係，皆為社區計劃提供了 一個溫暖舒適的開始。

我視自己的藝術創作為家園。不論是創作自己的作品 還是主持合作計劃，就像邀請觀衆和參加者到家中一 樣。據我的文化和家族傳統，必須為訪客提供舒適的 座位，奉上溫暖的飲品，當然少不了豐富的食物（無 論作比喻或現實中皆然）。在社區藝術計劃中，慷慨 的舉動是提升參與度、建立真誠人際關係的關鍵。

2015年我接獲悉尼機構 Performance Space的策 展人 Bec Dean邀請，與藝術家爲首的機構 The Cad Factory首次合作，開展了社區藝術計劃。The Cad Factory 位於悉尼西南部540公里之外一個叫納蘭德 拉的農村社區，那裡是維拉朱利人的土地。 那是我第一次在農村社區工作，因爲自己是來自大城 市的藝術家而滿有優越感，但對於即將合作的女性， 卻所知甚微。不過肯定的是，我們的共通點就是紡織。

我認識與The Cad Factory 創辦人夫婦 Vic 及 Sarah McEwan 曾經共事的藝術家，而得知他們自五年前從 悉尼搬到此地，就開展了一系列社區項目，很快取得 鎮上居民的尊重和信任。

真切的交流、道德責任、人和地的配合，促成 The Cad Factory 創作令觀衆置身其中的實驗作品。2 到計 劃的尾聲時，我明白到藝術和該機構在納蘭德拉所扮 演的重要角色。在兩個不同場合，參與計劃的女性告 訴我，她們之前一直計劃要在孩子青少年時期就搬離 納蘭德拉，然而 The Cad Factory 的出現卻改變了她 們的想法，因爲這地方終於有東西值得她們留下來。

我的計劃目標非常開放，就兩個出發點：一個龐大 的女性紡織社群，以及爲期三天的「On Common

Fig. 3 2015年10月16至18日「On Common Ground」藝術節，藝術家妮歌．巴拉卡特與一群環 保漂染工作坊的參加者。 攝影：James T Farley

Ground」（ 共 同 點 ） 藝 術 節 期 間 共 創 作 品 （Fig. 3）。藝術節在納蘭德拉 Murrumbidgee 河畔的灌木及樹熊孕育區舉行，旨在反映殖民 化、農業發展、物種消失或瀕臨滅絕、持續環 境轉變、河流資源管理行動等主題。

第一次聚會的時候，我邀請參加者帶一件自製的 紡織品與大家分享，從而瞭解她們的技能、感興 趣的事物，她們也能由此認識我和我的作品。

短短兩天，在這個只有 3871 人的小鎮中就已經 有超過四十名女性參與。我很高興，因爲在悉尼 而言，最初幾次聚會鮮有這麽多人。這些女性對 紡織、藝術的經驗知識十分多樣化，她們希望學 會新技能，並對天然物料有相同的興趣。因此， 我們決定一起做環保染色。

在接下來的三次活動中，我們在Murrumbidgee 河邊、幾近荒廢的火車站月台，架起了環保染色 的營地，利用河水、公園内的原生及移種植物、 參加者家中的植物，將當地二手商店買來的近 二十張舊羊毛氈和絲綢碎料染色。我們專注並享 受製作的過程，並同意藝術節開幕前暫時不去顧 慮成果如何。

到藝術節開幕前的一星期内，我們將染好的布料 製成二十六幅大型紡織品。整個過程由參與的女 性主 導 ， 我 的工 作 只 是 安 排 佈展 的物 流 。 共 有 二十六人參與了這次項目，所以在藝術節之後， 包括佈展團隊在内，我們瓜分了所有作品，每人 都得到一塊布以作留念。 作品中的每一塊布都是這個地方和社群的紀錄。 布料上的染色痕跡見證著我們的聚會，承載著對 話、歡笑、交流的記憶。製作者來自不同年齡 （4至86歲）（Fig. 4）。作品的標題《I think I still hear the sky vibrating...》（我想我仍聽 見天空在震動……）有如在提醒合作、參加、聚 集，以及作為藝術家、製作者、社群的重要性 （Fig. 5）。

一年後我 重返納蘭德拉， 與 The Cad Factory 開 始 第 二 個 合 作 計 劃 ， 在 悉 尼 設 計 節 展 出 《Shadow Place》（影子處），與許 多當 地婦 女的關係因而變得更深厚。最近我開車到沃加沃 加附近探望朋友時，特地開多一百公里的路去納 蘭德拉，逐漸駛近那裡的時候，有一種回家的感 覺。看著熟悉的廣闊風景，遠處正在形成的風 暴，以及一片鮮黃的油菜花田，我意識到這個小 鎮和居民對我的意義。我選擇回到這裡，是爲了 探望朋友、參觀展覽和吃飯敘舊。這正是一種真 誠而持久的關係。那些意義深刻的經驗，無疑改 變了我們日常生活的狀態。

註釋

1 Irvine, Samantha. “Suburbanites take to t f heir front lawns for a estival - Minto Live”, new kind of theater in Makeshift

issue 5, http://mkshft.org/minto-live/ (accessed 27 November 2017). 2 The Cad Factory Artistic Vision, http:// www.cadfactory.com.au/about (accessed 27 November 2017).

Fig. 5 《I think I still hear the sky vibrating…》（局部）/ 2015 舊羊毛氈和絲質布料，從 Narrandera common、Riverina 的樹木和植物萃取的環保染料 Bec Dean 策劃、The Cad Factory and Perfomance Space 支持。 攝影：James T Farley

妮歌．巴拉卡特 澳洲藝術家

藝術家妮歌．巴拉卡特現生活及工作於澳洲悉尼。她致力 拆除藝術與生活之間的藩籬，重新審視繪畫與紡織、日常 生活與社區參與之間的關係。她的作品體現出愛與忍耐， 透過製造一種冥想，有意識地改變日常生活的狀態，提供 新的方法去思考、感受和展望現實環境。

妮歌的實踐包括廣泛的社區協作，她認為在這種形式的實 踐中，尊重、平等是促進交流經驗、知識和技能的主要原 則。

妮歌最近的計劃「Shadow Places」（澳洲納蘭德拉的社 區合作計劃），作為 Sydney Design Festival 的節目之 一，在The Cad Factory、the Museum of Applied Arts and Sciences 中展出。她堅信想像力及藝術有潛力去改 變社會。