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Dawn - Tracks in the Sand
Just do it. Don’t think about it. It was a 4.30am awakening to get to the opening of the “4th and final Olympics Arts Festival of the Sydney 2000 Olympic Games”.
Not since the Reith workplace relations policy exploded in high drama on the waterside had I ventured out at this time of day to the Botany Bay area. I recall that things were a lot hotter then. I love the unnatural beauty of this industrial heartland lit up throughout the night to maintain the around the clock productivity necessary. Like a hive of European wasps, the place hums incessantly.
In the dawn of the Sydney 2000 Olympics Arts Festival at La Perouse however, we witnessed a far greater natural beauty along with creativity, strength and extraordinary endurance.
At 5.45am there were about 15 vehicles parked. The majority at that stage seemed to be media. We got our bearings and observed the production crew setting up in the dark on Congwong Bay beach below.
As I got out of the car I commented that it wasn’t as cold as I expected. My words were instantaneously carried away by a gust of chill wind followed by a surprisingly quick but unfortunately brief numbing effect before the pre-dawn chill rose up through my feet and gradually took over. The traditional “Summer Olympics” were being held in an Australian winter.
In the pre-dawn darkness many in the media stumbled down through the dark to the beach. As we made our way, the production crew was placing small canned beacons to provide some light. On the beach a jagged row of sticks with billycan lanterns lit the way. Giant, red ochre and charcoal black tracks punctuated the path through the sand. From the heights above the beach and more clearly of course from a bird’s eye the full picture may have told a story. For us down at ground level it was a matter of mapping it and/or visualising what it might look like from above.
We stumbled, sand “clodden” to the main outer red and black bora in the centre of which was a smaller inner circle. We, along with the rest of the media in hearing distance were asked not to enter the bora.
The extraordinary opening to Tubowgule (the meeting of the waters- Part 1), the Dawn Ceremony, at La Perouse was a tour de force by some of Australia’s most talented and creative people. The performance space was designed by one of Australia’s most outstanding, original and challenging artists, Fiona Foley. It was produced by Rhoda Roberts, with artistic direction and choreography by Stephen Page. The performers included opera singer, Deborah Cheetham and, as Deborah described them, her “Doo Wup Girls”, Nowra based performance group Doonooch and student performers from Matraville High School.
The media crews stumbled around in the dark trying to find the best vantage point. Hopefully before too much damage to the fragile environment occurred, the pre-dawn preliminary briefing took place. The National Parks and Wildlife Service had requested that the sandy rises where fragile tussocks of vegetation were trying to establish themselves be a no go area. Someone should have been given responsibility for guiding people away from this area. While the media took note, a few in the audience did not appear to be aware of the restriction. Other limitations included a ban from using flash, and no wandering around after the performance began. The final brief was a sketchy outline of what we were about to witness. We were shown where the elders would be seated and reminded to be respectful.
Meanwhile, the grey, wintry and therefore visually unspectacular dawning of the new day occurred. It just gradually got lighter without any brilliant show of colour and light. For once, nature did not upstage the human effort at creativity. The dramatically understated opening of the Olympic Arts Festival was about to begin.
Our first real human interaction was with a group of supporters of the Matraville High performers. They like us sought shelter from the icy sea breeze amongst the rocks. These people had voluntarily been up early helping the performers prepare for the morning’s event.
The Matraville High supporters were asked to move out of the sight lines of one Australian media group’s cameras. Despite the thoughts about their right to stand where they like on their own land, they graciously joined us up on the sandstone rock face. Almost immediately, others moved to take their place on the sand below.
Just before the performance, we were joined on the sandstone rise by 3 police officers. At first the male policemen seemed quite uncomfortable (but may have just been suffering from the cold like the rest of us). They stood riveted to the one spot throughout the performance. The policewoman however, moved around and seemed to genuinely interact with the locals and the rest of the audience.
At the end of the performance the policemen standing nearby were just as enthusiastic in their appreciation of the performance that had just taken place as any one else in the crowd.
So, to the performance. By 6.15am the day had dawned and all the performers were in place, the audience of about 350 strong then made their way to the beach.
I have read about, listened to and witnessed many who have suffered for art. At 6.30am I witnessed something by a small band of performers and the local indigenous community that was deeply profound. The perfomers had no choice. They were engulfed by the elements. It was cold. The blend of waves crashing on the shore mingled with the voices of Deborah Cheetham and the chorus singing in the day was extraordinary. How many other performers in the Australian performing arts community would perform in these environmentally tough conditions?
The haunting prelude was followed by the singing of Cecil McLeod of Doonooch. Cecil’s voice both blended with and rose strongly above the sound of the elements. Cecil’s performance provided the strength and momentum for this performance. Despite the temperature, Doonooch performed in red loincloths. At this time of year, I suspect that in the past the local indigenous tribes might have donned possum or other animal skins to gain a little more warmth.
Despite the “didgeridoo” being introduced to this area of Australia relatively recently it has become a poignant and integral part of the wider living musical language of indigenous Australia. It was used to high effect in this performance. There were 3 didgeridoos and 2 performers playing clap sticks.
The mission style grey blankets worn by some of the dancers as they waited for their cues worked to good visual effect. The contrast of the grey with the red worn by the 10 girls was stark and drew the attention of the audience when required. When not dancing the girls lay beneath the blankets making a sandstone like outer circle to the central bora. The 6 lads in black trousers and the musicians also mercifully got to wear a grey blanket when they weren’t performing.
The 3 male dancers and McLeod who were the main visual focal points for much of the performance were not rugged up at all.
The climax of the performance was the launch and torching of the raft at sea. This was no mean feat. The 3 Doonooch male dancers carried the raft out to sea, holding it aloft so that it was not swamped by the larger waves before it was lit. The smell of burning gum leaves penetrated the closing parts of the ceremony. Once the raft was ablaze the dancers bodysurfed back to the beach.
As the ceremony concluded, a huge Malaysian container ship stole silently out of Port Botany and the first flight of the day took off overhead from Kingsford-Smith Airport.
In 1970 on the 200th anniversary of Captain Cook’s arrival, local aborigines held a mourning ceremony at the site of the old Aborigines Protection Board reserve at La Perouse. As part of that ceremony, “Aboriginal leaders wearing red headbands to symbolise the bloodshed, carried placards showing the names of all the tribes wiped out in the white invasion” 1. Despite being emotionally moved by the morning celebration I imagine that the performance might have been very different if those Eora tribes such as the Gwiyagal, Cadigal and Wangal and their culture were not amongst the first victims of the European invaders.
At the end of the performance a special presentation was made to the local indigenous elders. I wondered whether there were some among them who were involved in the 1970 Aboriginal mourning ceremony held above this same site.
After the ceremony tiny Congwong Bay beach was covered in footprints as evidence of the peaceful early morning invasion.
Noon
According to the Sydney 2000 Olympics Arts Festival media release the site of the botanical gardens was “once a place of male initiation for the Kayimai (now known as Manly) people”. This stage of Tubowgule was to pay respect to ancestral traditions in a ceremonial performance of dance, body painting, storytelling and sculpture.
As I did not attend this ceremony I will leave the imagery to the accompanying photos by Mazz Images.
Dusk
Arriving at the Opera House forecourt at 5.30pm for the final stage of Tubowgule I was confronted with the huge crowd already seated on the steps of Australia’s most internationallly recognised man made icon.
This venue, unlike Congwong Bay beach is a tried and true venue. The lumpy hard steps leading up to the shells of the Opera House provide audience seating.
The backdrop is a natural sandstone cliff face leading up to a high rise in the botanical gardens and through to government house. The rough stone backdrop is a lighting designer’s dream particularly for the earthy sort of performance that we were about to witness. Centred at the top of the cliff face is a pair of magnificent eucalypts standing straight and tall with ghost white bark and topped with a fan of branches and thick healthy foliage. Leading down from the top of the cliff is a hewn sandstone colonial staircase lined with high wrought iron bars.
Sydneysiders flock to this and other venues such as The Domain to witness the free entertainment at every opportunity such as those provided by arts festivals. Not even the chill August evening it seems, is enough to deter these hardy citizens from joining the free for all and then sitting for several hours before enjoying a performance.
By the time that the final ceremony of Tubowgule began the forecourt was choked with people. In the twilight and subsequent darkness, mobile phones were used as homing devices by late comers in search of their friends or family amongst the sea of faces.
Directly at centre was a raised black stage, described by a child in the audience as a big boomerang. The top of the stage was covered in red ochre coloured wood chips.
Deborah Cheetham opened the performance with another haunting piece in the local language that complemented her performance at break of day.
This was followed by the appearance of the imposing Djakapurra Munyarryun from Yirrkala (Northern Terrritory), whose traditional songs were accompanied by the didgeridoo and the contemporary music of David Page. Djakapurra performed at various times throughout the ceremony while the offstage voice of Deborah Cheetham spoke to the audience. The dancers were split into several groups. The first to appear were the young men who shielded themselves from view behind canoe shaped objects when they did not want to be seen. A group of young girls performed a beautiful dance that I thought was a depiction of a group of blue bottles floating towards the beach. I was told by another audience member that they were catching moths. Another group performed an interesting dance using giant whalebones while a final group built shelters. Overall the performance was a complex web of stories recounted in song, voice and dance.
At the finale Cheetham reappeared joining the 70 strong cast.
For me, although it was at times visually, dramatically and musically impressive there was an overwhelming dirge like quality to this finale that left me feeling depressed. These reflective opening ceremonies were a poignant reminder of what is lost forever. The juxtaposition of these performances with an episode in Australia's short history that will epitomise and extend us to the limits of our bold hedonistic reputation was no doubt a challenge and a noble attempt to show another quieter face of Australia.
“Let the Games begin.”
Tubowgule Credits
Parts I, II, III
Producer – Rhoda Roberts
Designer – Fiona Foley.
Artistic direction and choreography – Stephen Page
Event Management – Urban Art Projects
Part III – the Sunset performance
Musical Director – David Page
Lighting Design – Joseph Mecurio
Sets – Urban Art Projects
Lighting – Chameleon
Audio – Coda
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CCCecil McLeod of Doonooch
Doonooch dancers with Matraville High School students
 
The raft is taken to the sea...
... symbolically set alight ...
... and launched upon the waves.
At the conclusion of the ceremony the first flight of the day passes overhead.
The Doonooch dancers at the Royal Botanic Gardens
The mid-day ceremony under a magnificent Moreton Bay Fig
The setting on the forecourt of the Sydney Opera House for the evening ceremony
Dancers emerge from Fiona Foley's intriguing set.
Bangarra's Djakapurra Munyarryun
The Butterfly Net dance
The Finale |
