Sue Berglund - Landwriting at the old farm and the Stillpoint

Mary Place Exhibition 2009

My love of paintings began with Fred Williams You Yangs 1963. I used to go the Art Gallery of NSW and stare at it even though at the time I wasn’t a painter myself. The luscious paint was enchanting and mysterious – there was an alchemy in it beyond what the painter had consciously done. And of course, Williams’ ability to simplify and translate the essence of the Australian landscape was irresistable. At art school, I became entranced with the formal divisions of the canvas used by Morandi and the old masters such as Velasquez and Goya, looking for some magic to make a composition work, and discovered that Williams also shared this fascination and used a piano wire to ensure his marks were in exactly the right spot.

Since art school I have been searching for a quiet space in which to work, and this year I was lucky enough to find a studio at an historic farm in Western Sydney. The farm has wide blue skies, acres and acres of rolling pasture punctuated by old trees, land architecture such as long fences and ageing gates, askew but still solid, gentle cows and a painted weatherboard cottage that has been there for more than a hundred years. This farm seems to have stood still over time. It has a sense of permanence and continuous endeavour, even though the surrounding suburbs are now encroaching.

First efforts were realistic tempera paintings of the studio to celebrate a new found freedom to work, but these pictures were eaten by the mice! This seemed like fate and under the influence of the sky and peaceful space the paintings began to reflect the natural world surrounding the cottage, becoming simple abstractions in thick oil paint. At the beginning of each painting there was an idea which came from images imprinted on the mind daily, such as gates opening and closing to keep the cows in, the view on the other side of the gate, weather and seasonal skies, the impossibly fluoro colour of persimmon fruit on an almost bare tree, rosellas that fly in front of the car on the drive in to work, or cows moving from paddock to paddock. The paintings have become many layered, each level of thickness representing a new day, time and patience, just as time and patience have been invested in the land and the animals. With each layer the paintings take on their own life and have some of the interest of the old fences and other structures all around. Over time, many layers of paint have been laid down until the work has reached a point where it says what it needs to say. Though the order is not always clear at first it somehow resolves itself within the painting. I call this work Landwriting. All the works are bright, calm and cheerful, just like the gentle place in which I work every day.


The owners support the arts and encourage me, so the whole atmosphere of the farm is positive and free. Despite being almost in the city, I am lucky enough to be experiencing a glimpse of the wonderful outdoor farm life, the big skies, the sunsets, colours, birds and animals, space and peace, my still point.