‘Get used to me because there are more of us coming’

I wanted to interview you, Aunty, because I see you as one of the critical people that broke the glass ceiling for Melanesian women and broader Pacific communities working in galleries and museums in Australia. When you broke the ceiling, you brought Pacific communities with you.

Please tell us a little bit about yourself.

My humble beginning was not in the arts. I get emotional when I think about my beginning …I was born in Buka in Bougainville, Papua New Guinea, during the late 1950s. Back then, like many women, I was told that I would need my father’s permission to be anything other than a teacher. I ended up working for Bougainville Copper during the late 1970s. Rio Tinto sponsored me to study applied science, and I then spent 13 years working as an environmental research analyst.

My husband and I came to Australia in the 1990s during the peak of the Bougainville Crisis. I couldn’t get a job in my field. I had a job interview for an assistant chemist role in Dandenong but didn’t get the job. When I asked why I wasn’t successful, I was told my name would have been a deterrent. During this time, a friend of mine was the President of the Pacific Association in Melbourne. She kindly referred me for a job at the Melbourne Museum, looking for a Pacific Islander to help move its collection. I went for an interview, and I got the job. Because I’d just been told that my name was a deterrent to employing me at the chemist, I went as “Mrs Cleaver” for the Melbourne Museum job. I had to change my name to get a foot in. I remember towards the end of the interview, one of the interviewers said: “There are people who have applied for this job, who are highly qualified and have 30 years plus experience. You tell us: why should we hire you?”  I asked, “Is the material I will work with contemporary or cultural?” They said: “Cultural.” I said: “Well, tell me: Whose hands made those cultural items? I went to the same university as those makers—the University of Culture!” I’m overqualified because I have 20,000 years of experience⎯that’s how far I can stretch my lineage and history. Our art form inspired the likes of Matisse, Gauguin and especially Picasso. Our influence is not often talked about; it’s not often known about.” 

I must have been convincing because the museum rang me and said, “‘Mrs. Cleaver’, start on Monday.”

In my own experience, working at the museum changed my attitude and my perception of what art is. That’s because, from a Western perspective, art is multidisciplinary but, for us, Indigenous Melanesians, and First Nations peoples worldwide, what is known as art is known as “Us.” How can you separate us from the things we make? How can you separate us from the art form of weaving? I weave, but I would never see myself as an artist-weaver. When I weave baskets, there’s a reason; for example, it will help me carry my food. I weave toys because I play with my grandchildren. So, art is an inclusive part of who we are. Little did the museum know that my humble beginning, and 50,000-year-old culture, goes beyond ‘science.’ Yet I still felt that I was the most unqualified and untrained person working with the collection from a Western perspective. But I managed to achieve something. Early on, I decided that physical presence is equally as crucial as those highly qualified in the Western sense. People who work with our art form (Pacific Art) know what we look like but don’t really know what we look like. You know what I mean? 

The Melbourne Museum prepared me for the journey ahead. When I visited the National Gallery of Victoria (NGV) in 2003, the Pacific Collection needed to be catalogued. So, I spent three years cataloguing it. The Director at the time promised me the NGV would create a gallery for the Pacific collection. Every time we crossed each other in the hallway, I would look at him and say, “I haven’t forgotten.” Finally, in 2007, we launched a redevelopment plan with the Victorian Government, and you know who we got to launch our Pacific Gallery plan—Geoffrey Rush! Unfortunately, those redevelopment plans got thrown out and didn’t go ahead.

It stands out that though you don’t have Western qualifications, you have such strong cultural knowledge. This conversation is an education for me, an intergenerational knowledge exchange. In my experience, museums and galleries in Australia maintain hierarchies of knowledge (between the West and the rest) and don’t value lived experiences such as yours.

At my farewell party at the NGV, I said to the management, “Look, the institution’s role is to create space for the next generation so that they can come in and see their potential so that they can see what they can do and work with their cultures that have been put into collections; to reconnect them with culture, to breathe life back into the museum and artwork, and to allow them to leave their mark.”  I keep bringing it all back to cultural heritage, to my cultural background, but that’s how I make sense of the world. I come from a culture that sees how the past informs the present and the future. Look at what your ancestors did, and follow that, but you must also leave your mark. The medium changes but the foundation, the ideology, and the Kastom stay the same. In the past specific baskets were woven for certain things. Today, baskets are still woven, but their purpose is different. Does that mean it’s wrong? No. It’s not for me, but it’s not wrong because that’s the lived experience of the current generation woven into this basket. It’s okay if the basket acknowledges where the knowledge came from and where it is going. That’s how I see it. 

Another observation for black people is that you must work extra hard to be in the space of a Western museum. You see me: I’m black, I’m there in that space—and get used to me because there are more of us coming.

From the institution’s perspective, our art form, culture, background, and well-being have been a subject for those studying us—we have been studying for years. My generation learnt English, and academics who were coming to research us didn’t speak our languages. How do we know if their interpretation of us is correct? We don’t, and it probably wasn’t, which is why we need to create a space for us to come back in and to breathe life back into these objects, not only for the museum but to come in and create new art that responds to the time we live in now.

What’s been your experience with diversity, tokenism, and genuine engagement with indigenous cultures in museums in Australia?

Not having had the formal qualification has been a hurdle for me. I tend only to be brought in if it’s something to do with “culture.” Overall, having to be the “voice” of culture in museums has been difficult. I tend to be pushed towards the “cultural knowledge holder” role more than the curator—which I don’t mind. But I like to think that I am more than just the holder of cultural knowledge. 

I work in a Western setting, but I have a particular view. I can see how art is viewed from the outside, which drives me. However, working from the inside, I can shine a mirror back onto myself from the outside. So, I’m in a unique space where I can see both sides, and that can be a challenge to those who have made a career out of that (border crossing) space. 

I was reflecting on what you said–I’ve genuinely engaged with indigenous/Pacific cultures when other Pacific Islanders have run programs. This speaks to the importance of self-determination over ‘diversity’.

Australia has a long colonial history in the Pacific. Papua New Guinea is a former territory of Australia, and the Pacific has been subjected to Australian colonialism through economic trade, policies, blackbirding and, more recently, the seasonal worker program. These histories have shaped collections in which there are significant amounts of our ancestral items. Both the NGV and Melbourne Museum had plans to redevelop their Pacific collections, and these institutions made big promises to our communities—and yet, both redevelopments haven’t proceeded because of the lack of support for Pacific collections. 

There are many reasons why progress happens with institutional collections or not, but one mechanism for change can be advisory groups. What do you think about the model of advisory groups? I’m personally conflicted. The conversations we can have in advisory groups can be so generative. Then at the same time, I think there’s an element of it that is outsourcing responsibility.

Advisory groups are a shortcut! [Laughter]. They are slowly changing. But in the past, I’ve always seen them as keeping the information source at arm’s length. The museum’s attitude is: “We’ll get what we need from them and work with their knowledge into the institution rather than hire them.” Ideally, I would like to see more Pacific Islanders, First Nations peoples and people with diverse cultural backgrounds work directly with the collection rather than have an advisory group. 

Actually, this is a good point to move on to your work as the curator of the Logan Living Museum (a social history museum in the city of Logan that centres on its local community to activate memory, stories, and voices). Tell us about your experience working there and working in a regional area. 

I work for the Living Museum, a new museum, I’m the only staff member, but we are finally hiring someone to come and work with me. When I started, the museum was just a concept; the physical space still needed to exist. So, we had to work from the local council’s policies and create exhibitions. Logan has one of the most diverse cultures and multicultural communities in and around Brisbane/Meanjin. It’s also one of the most disadvantaged communities in Queensland. 

Disadvantaged within proximity to a major city.

Exactly. I’ve learned through the Logan communities that they are very proud people. What you see and hear in the media differs from what you hear on the land. The problem is that they need a space to have a voice. 

The difference between the Logan Living Museum and a standard museum is that it’s more like a contemporary museum where people can come and tell their stories. We don’t have a collection; we don’t collect stuff. It’s a platform where people can come along and tell their stories and feel they belong and are worthy. 

After working for institutions such as the NGV, Melbourne Museum, Gallery of Modern Art (Brisbane/Meanjin) or the Australian Museum (Sydney/Gadigal land), my main challenge is funding. Metropolitan museums have a lot more money than any regional museums or galleries.  

Regional galleries, museums and councils have a lot of hoops and loops to jump through; they’ve got many policies that safeguard themselves. It’s a lot more challenging working in a regional gallery than the metro institutions.

My initial challenge with the Logan Living Museum was that the local community needed to learn what it was, so my role was going out there. The First Nations and the Pacific Islanders, aware of what museums are, were reluctant to participate in the project. My role was to re-educate them: This museum is where you come in and tell your stories.

So, there was initial resistance to the museum from the community?

Yes, and now that the museum is open, people are coming in. The other day we hosted a Waitangi Day event, and the more people who came in, the more surprised they were. The community is now gaining more confidence that they finally have a place they can call their own. 

We are also trialing our first-ever pilot artist-in-residency program. To develop the artist-in-residency program, I brokered a relationship with the younger generation, and the younger generation will bring the older generation in. It works beautifully. [laughter] 

In a way, what you are doing in developing this museum is audience-building and community development work.

There’s still much work to do regarding community engagement. But I have no staff to help me with this because there’s no funding. There’s only one staff member, me, and I’m expected to create the museum policies, bring community in, put on shows, source material for events, and clean the cups—and that’s been a challenge for me. 

In the first two years as a curator, my role mainly concerned community engagement because the museum did not exist. We didn’t have a foundation, so I’m building a foundation. At the start, I didn’t mind focusing on all that, but now that I have the basis, I’m working on exhibitions. Let me curate. I sometimes feel that tokenism applies to my situation. That’s something that I’m dealing with. I hope the next person who comes after me doesn’t have to feel like this. If it’s my responsibility to break walls and make my physical presence known so others can see what a black person looks like, speaks like, and yells like, then let it be.