I think of a gnome and I think of a silver gelatin photograph by Ricky Maynard called Heart Break from his 2005 series, Portrait of a distant land. The distant land is the north-east of Tasmania, but looking across the water to the mainland. A man stands in waders, looking out to the sea. His whole body fits underneath the horizon line. He’s in the water, standing in it, but his image is reflected in it too. He’s not up to his neck, he’s up to his whole entire body. I think about the ceramic gnome (peeping toms, neighborhood watch, painted eyes that follow you around the room) being pulled out of Phillip’s car, how the gnome is transplanted from nowhere in particular to someplace else.  And then I think of Ricky Maynard’s image where the man is part of the sea, in under it, of it.

Gnomes are an empty way to mark colonial space, all ceramic rim and air inside. The fictional colonial figure of the hysterical woman in nonsensical fits of speech seems like a way to avoid real genocide of colonial past. Spirit communication sounds abstract when unhinged from actual frontier violence. I think of Hanging Rock and Amy Spiers’ ongoing project to get rid of Miranda in Miranda Must Go, to remove the ‘white vanishing myth’ of Picnic at Hanging Rock and instead look at the actual losses and trauma at Hanging Rock for Aboriginal people. Picnic at Hanging Rock was a fiction written in 1967, set in 1900. Are the gnomes in on some sort of pantomime parody? I am also reminded of traditions in Tasmanian colonial houses where British convicts brought their fears and superstitions with them: shoving old boots and clothing up chimneys, or in windows and doorways, passages where spirits could travel, to stop them. Superstition can be used to scramble and avoid, making truth shimmer or disappear.

Gnomes are on repeat; they are more than twins, they are copies of copies. Phillip has hidden them with some furniture he doesn’t want and prints of his work up a staircase in a storage cupboard. He’s organized them like the Mona Lisa, eyes all facing the front, watching, waiting.

Looking at these gnomes through Phillip’s eyes, fantasy seems to have everything to do with history.


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