Dwell explores the role of the iconic Queenslander in the collective consciousness. While the world changes rapidly around us, these often-modest wooden homes are as enduring as ever. On street corners in every rural town, or nestled amongst the bush, the Queenslander remains ever present, ever unchanged and ever iconic.
I married a farmer 25 years ago & rural life became my reality. Rural life is a juxtaposition of challenge & blessing. The demands of contemporary society have seen an influx of resource industry in our rural areas & has added a new, challenging dimension to our lives, as we struggle to find a sustainable balance between farming & energy production. However, at the end of the day, the production of food must be our priority. Nothing matters more & this is why I chose to paint Wheat – our nation’s most beloved crop. What a beautiful sight – a field of ripe wheat, gently blowing in the breeze.
Once a year you buy the whole family new swimmers, dig your beach toys out from the back of the shed, ask the neighbour to feed the chooks, and do the long drive to your favourite beach holiday spot. The starkly different environment provides a brief reprieve from your rural reality, but just as your farmer‘s socks have started to fade it’s time to take your new shell collection home and add them to the jar on the shelf where they will remind you of that distant paradise… until next year.
My rural reality highlights the major industries that have made our region prosper, this is captured in my artwork of locally sourced and repurposed relics. Crushed coal from a mine site west of Chinchilla has been used to partially fill the timber grain of an old workers cottage fence board to signify how the energy and mining is embedded in our way of life. A locally made plough Tyne forms the handle rest for the hand forged rail clip cleaver, this denotes the symbiotic relationship of the rural and rail operations that are in our region.
As a storm rolled in, Mum would gather the clothes off the line. Gum leaves swept up in gusts of wind would hurl around us as we ran in circles. Throwing ourselves to the ground pretending ‘Mum’s tree’ had fallen on us. ‘It’s us vs the world.’ I grew up under a gum tree in Miles, a ‘townie’. I grew up making homes for lady beetles with my sister in the yard while our parents argued inside. I grew up throwing house paint at furniture while my sister flipped and kicked on the trampoline. The reality of my rural upbringing is that I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. I was a big sister.
Distance: a reality at the core of all aspects of rural life. All supplies, both personal and property, medical care, social contacts, communication, business, including financial services, education, recreation and leisure are limited or permitted by the distance to facilities or personnel. Opportunities can be lost, relationships can stagnate or dissolve in the kilometres and the time taken to bridge them. No matter the skill of time management, sometimes there is just not enough time.
Rich, productive and vast black soil plains. The Western Downs is a landscape of repetition and pattern; crops changing with the seasons, paddocks ploughed in parallel, fallow, or sprouting from seed. Golden barley fields in spring are harvested beneath big skies. Here I have used black soil from the earth, rubbed with ink, with hand-printed woodcuts of harvested barley and ploughed fields.
While carving a salvaged Budgeroo root burl that already had some shape and movement, revealed the form of two nestled birds. Retaining natural edge sapwood provides a contrast in colour and texture to the polished wood. Our lives at our rural property ‘The Stiks‘ in the Kumbarilla forest is about adaptation, improvisation and harmony with the environment. This piece is a reflection of that reality.
Weather and water shape my rural reality. As a primary producer both impact my livelihood and underpin my sense of wellbeing. I have tried to convey the feeling of awe and wonder felt after the parched creek bed beside my home, was replenished by life giving autumn rain. Providing a sanctuary where the splendour of nature offers the ‘drifter’ a much-needed escape from daily routines.
To create this image, I have used double exposure, a photographic technique that combines two different images into a single image.
The reality of living in a rural area where livelihoods are affected by rainfall, is that you are always thinking, talking and maybe even dreaming about the weather. Ever hopeful for rain (except for those few times a year when you don’t want it), everyone has their favourite source for the weather forecast – their favourite app or perhaps favourite news service. When you travel you will be asked about the weather at home and if ‘it looks like rain’, and you will most likely check in with those at home to see how accurate the forecast was. Always checking, always hoping: one eye on the sky.
My grandchildren love the freedom of walking the paddocks while doing farm maintenance. They want to be farmers one day.
My definition of Rural Reality is living in a wonderfully old and character filled Queensland farmhouse, surrounded by stunningly beautiful Australian Native Flora, through every season, flood or drought or in between. Each flower and leaf are so superbly different and so unique in their colour, texture, size and brightness. Being able to capture the absolute vibrancy and individuality of these blooms gives me great joy. Each new bloom is a promise of things to come.
Thinking about the theme Rural Realities brought memories of our trip to WA when we visited the Myalls Bore. The bore was built in the early 1900’s and would provide much needed water for up to 1000 head. It is said to be one of the longest troughs in the southern hemisphere, being 120 metres long. Living on the land our one concern is water – either to make grass grow or fill up tanks. To me Rural Realities is the struggle on the land relying on rainfall. I decided to make the Myalls Bore the centre piece, being the all-important water supply and have one side dry and other side lush.
This piece is composed of flora picked from garden with the help of my children. I’m grateful to live in a place with such biodiversity, from the birds sitting in the trees outside my window, to the bugs my son picks under the logs, and the lizards crawling through the shrubs.
We’re all cloud watchers out here. On the land, these fluffy little wonders dictate most of our daily activities. If they haven’t been around in a while it’s feeding cattle, if there have been too many it’s staying in because the creek’s up and we won’t be getting anywhere anytime soon. It’s when to plough, when to plant, when to harvest, rake the hay, turn the hay, bale, move cattle, sell cattle, buy. It’s what are the ants doing over your way? How much did you get? Is the creek up? The reality is they unite us these skies, without them we’d have a whole lot less to talk about.
As a fabric artist, I have created this piece to highlight the things I love most about my community. The diversity in nature is part of my rural reality, from, cropping and grazing domesticated animals, to natural woodlands, wetlands, native birds and animals. I have created a bookcase that is filled with books made from fabrics that reflect my rural experience and reality. The ornaments on the shelves extend to include some of my favourite things and offer a point of difference, encouraging the viewer to explore the bookcase and my rural reality further.
My artwork is made from recycled materials which is an important ethos of rural life. Our forebears believed in repurposing and recycling, and this continues to this day in the country. Once upon a time, we only saw trees and bushland dotted along the rural horizon. However, nowadays enormous wind turbines tower above the trees, overshadowing the natural bushland, glinting menacingly in the early morning sunlight while the trees bleed. Is this progress?
This hand carved Uluru from native Gidgee timber captures the essence of rural Australian life and an appreciation of the great monolith at the heart of this country. Just as we are moulded by the harsh environment, isolation and time, Uluru stands as a testimony of Australian rural life with a rugged yet complex beauty. Gidgee is one of the hardest timbers in the world having a hardness similar to that of sandstone and the piece is displayed atop a base similar to the Japanese Suiseki rock appreciation art form.
Through Lost lines, the artist captured the rural reality of being beyond the bars of reception at her family farm. Each pen stroke serves to portray how the figure is seemingly at one with nature yet is tethered to her phone, struggling to maintain societal connections whilst living amongst the tranquility of rural life.
This photo is of my father’s deceased horse Sunburn. I looked after Sunburn for the majority of his life, and we endured a love-hate relationship, with Sunburn causing me to break my arm when I was 14. As we grew, our relationship matured, and we grew fond of one another. At 35 Sunburn become sick and frail, and to be humane, I needed to put him down. The reality of looking my life-long companion in the eye before his death is indescribable. This photo shows a friend at rest.
Family and friends at the rural agricultural show relaxing and making lifelong memories.
The swirling hues mirror the vibrant colours of the land during rain and the starkness of drought. It speaks of the everchanging landscapes and the crucial importance of water for its survival.
Every summer we are threatened by bushfires. This is a reality that cannot be ignored. We must be prepared and vigilant every year.
Bark is the outer layer of a tree and without it the tree will die. Unlike other eucalyptus trees, the ironbark does not shed its outer layer of bark, creating deep crevices and interesting ‘landscapes‘ on the tree trunk and branches. Bark is both within and encircling a tree, and thus symbolically provides balance and strength. The rural reality is that without the ‘bark‘ of rural people, this land will be stripped of its protective layer, it’s balance and strength.
Mesmerised by the vibrant neon hues, I drove down Wild’s Road, Dalby and question how can something so beautiful be so tragic and heartbreaking at the same time? Mother Nature has painted the perfect rural summer sunset after the storm yet nobody’s happy.
While the glistening reflections of saffron and magenta capture my eye across the flooded field, it illuminates the reality of struggle and despair hidden amongst the beauty. Prayers for rain have been answered yet ignored. The deluge has now relinquished any hope the farmer once had for a successful crop. Mother Nature has a twisted sense of humour.
“The rain will come eventually – just wait,” Mum says. To which Dad replies, “You’re only saying that because it always has.”
In the waiting, we yearn for life to return, wondering if it ever will. We watch the slow decay of green livingness with an anxious grief. Yet, there is something strangely captivating in a withering leaf. It is here, in the crisping edges and goldening hue of death that we see the exquisite yearning for life that all things hold.
A groaning sort of glory, awaiting new life.
I feel very privileged that at this moment in time my Rural Reality is fairly untouched and as nature intended. I can still find parts of the property that have not been changed or modified by human activities. This is changing quickly as I watch the solar panels and gas wells approaching from the east and the huge wind towers marching towards us from the west. How long will this tranquility last?
Family and rural succession is a long-term conversation and sometimes a controversy in rural Australia. This portrait of my daughter and I is both an opportunity for reflection and a conversation starter about my personal rural reality. Bailey and I share an address and so much more. Together we work, plan, bicker, cry, laugh, gossip, empathise, paint, create. It is a story of privilege, gratitude and love.
In our rural community the effects of drought are felt by everyone. As our primary producers struggle to hold on there is a ‘community longing’ for relief. The reality is, though, that good times follow bad, and usually, drought ends with floodings rains. I am happy to live through this reality and was inspired by aerial photos of the channel country in Queensland after flooding rains. I was inspired to use my knowledge of clay and glazes to represent the transformation of the parched, red earth desert to a carpet of green, pink and yellow after flooding rains.
Living in rural Queensland, a hat is the most used accessory and is a rural reality by itself. A farmer’s hat has its own story to tell. Many are marked with oil or grease, dust, holes etc, showcasing the rawness and beauty of rural living. Each detail of this hat is a tribute to, and representation of, the vast variety of rural realities a farmer faces daily: weather, nature, livestock, fire, produce, crop. The positioning of the details supports equality of women and men who work on the land and are the main providers in our food chain.
The vagabond wanders from one place to the next gathering. Just like me since moving to Tara, I gather what some consider rubbish to turn into new outdoor garden features. The distance travelled to meet friends is a big part of rural life. My rusty vagabond is a timeless wanderer.
The originality of vegetation is expressed into many colours, contours and creation. Vegetation is also expressed by showing flexibility of nature’s look. Rural and reality go hand in hand.
When it rains after an extended period of dry, the gum trees blow bubbles of joy. 2023’s winter and spring were dry ones. Cattle prices were dreadful. Feed was becoming expensive. Then it rained and rained. The Gum Trees on our property blew bubbles and I was delighted to share their happiness. I felt like blowing bubbles too!
This photo was taken during a recent exhibition opening at Dogwood Crossing, Miles.
The Rural Reality of art gallery functions are opportunities for social connections and conversations with friends and artists over a wine…alcoholic or non alcoholic, your choice and no judgement.
The Wine List
Chardonnay
Sauvignon Blanc
Merlot
Non Alcoholic Options
Chardonnay
Sauvignon Blanc
This piece is carved in honour of the legendary bushman from the Darling Downs, R. M. Williams AU CMG who became world famous for creating the high-quality riding or workman’s boots known in rural areas simply as RM‘s. On our property ‘The Stiks‘ at Kumbarilla, the main trunk of a Budgeroo tree was burnt out during bushfires more than 60 years ago. All that remained was a partially burnt tree root protruding from the forest floor. The shape of the remaining root inspired me to create this stylised version of an RM boot.
This corrugated road is our family’s connection to friends, specialists, shops and much more. It connects us to the life outside of property isolation.
Self-portrait butterfly eye perpetuates the beauty that can be found on the edge of life. Living on a farm I encounter the passing and carcasses of many animals including cattle, horses, dogs, cats, kangaroos, turtles, birds, and insects, which act as a constant reminder of my own mortality. My reality is paralleled by a feeling of brevity that in turn brings beauty to my lived experience. My self-portrait plays on this beauty as it depicts an injured orchard swallowtail butterfly fluttering over the surface of my eye, and although it is near death, it seems curiously beautiful.
The horse has been associated with numerous roles throughout the ages. A Rural Reality is that horses are being replaced by motorbikes and helicopters for mustering stock. The benefits of the horse for mustering include connection with nature, physical exercise, emotional bond, low environmental impact, lowering stress levels, stock versatility and horses support you on your journey, reminding you that you have strength and the ability to succeed. The wind in the mane of the galloping horse is a call to take the reins of your life, to move with courage and determination to heal and feel free.
Acronym for rural: Rustic, undisturbed, real all-inclusive life. It has a face and a character of its own with a heartbeat so strong it reverberates across the country. The rural reality is the slow peaceful pulse that keeps the urban brain alive.
Harrowing Hills unveils a landscape of deceptive peace. A vast sky stretches above weathered structures, their worn facades whispering tales of relentless sun and relentless toil. Though a quiet stillness hangs in the air, the wind carries echoes of hardship – a testament to the unseen battles fought by those who call this land home. Here, beneath the beauty, lies a fierce resilience, a tribute to the unsung heroes who coax life from this unforgiving soil. Their hands, gnarled and strong, speak volumes of the unwavering spirit that continues to carve a living from this harsh embrace.
My definition of Rural Reality is living in a wonderfully old and character filled Queensland farmhouse, surrounded by stunningly beautiful Australian Native Flora, through every season, flood or drought or in between. Each flower and leaf are so superbly different and so unique in their colour, texture, size and brightness. Being able to capture the absolute vibrancy and individuality of these blooms gives me great joy. Each new bloom is a promise of things to come.
As her mum, I snap a candid shot, but she has to hide her face. Her mindset has her over-analyse and undermine her self-confidence. Social media has taught her to hide away her flaws or she won’t conform to the materialistic ideas that are influenced upon her.
This is the harsh reality faced by many rural teenage girls who constantly compare themselves to the ‘city’ girls. Afraid to be themselves and advocate for who they are, they will simply hideaway. The distance and the location of rural communities is enough. Let’s not silence them either. Teach, support and encourage self-worth.
The power of mother nature is the expression of nature that determines when flooding occurs, drought and fire of the land. Each twine of paper of the figurine is how community members connect and support one another during these natural events to build resilience. The dilly bag represents healing of country‘s first nations. The base is part of a tree retrieved from the flooded waterhole of Jandowae 2024 floods. The paper flames are for fire and the blue necklace represents the water of the floods.
From early morning onwards these local seniors sit on a chair daily that they call ‘the seat of knowledge‘ outside the newsagency. I watched them debate, argue, laugh and comfort one another. I had always wanted to stop and listen to their stories, and I often regret not doing so. Inside I felt quietly protective of them and unfortunately today they are no more.
At the Bunya Mountains, we stand in awe of majestic vistas and giant trees in a million shades of green. The reality is that none of this would be possible without the hidden mycological universe right beneath our feet; an invisible labyrinth that creates a network between trees and other plants; providing nutrients and messages. At times we glimpse this parallel universe. After continuous rain, these mycological networks send ‘flowers’ bursting from the earth and rotting trees. We commonly call these flowers ‘mushrooms’.
Our property has given my family and now grandchildren, ‘free play‘ with its natural gifts. They are never bored as the list of things to explore here is endless. Each time, more beautiful memories are made.
Even in drought conditions, cattle must be moved. It’s a teamwork effort from land to sky.
Contending with the forces of nature is a daily rural reality. Sun, rain, fire; all descend upon us in unpredictable ways. Too much sunshine and too little rain leaves a parched earth. Too much rain creates black soil quagmires making it impossible to harvest. The risk of a fire creates an ever-present, undercurrent of fear. At harvest time, an additional powerful and destructive force descends from above; a force with feathers, claws and a super-strong beak.
Hailey is representative of the beauty of rural realities. The piece is unexpected, bold and bright.
This multi-plate print work is a self-portrait and memento mori. It explores the entanglement of my rural environment, my identity, everyday reality, and unknown paralleling dimensions. As I create and view my work I feel the brevity of life, and I contemplate how paralleling dimensions might operate. I have used a cockatoo feather I found in my garden to pay tribute to my beautiful rural surroundings, as it is a constant source of inspiration, and energy for my art practice. I have created this work in my rural Chinchilla studio by merging old and new printmaking methods.
All volunteers take time out of their lives to provide a free service in our community. They are the backbones of our towns. This firefighter courageously puts his life at risk to protect the town and its surrounding properties. He never asks for anything …then he does it all again the next day.
Tiarna Lowe chose to create an artwork because she is learning about her culture and how her culture tells stories through art, using symbols as different aspects of the stories. Lowe’s father is Indigenous, and she loves to learn about his history, story and background. This story is Lowe’s learning about the communities and creation of representative symbolism.
My definition of Rural Reality is living in a wonderfully old and character filled Queensland farmhouse, surrounded by stunningly beautiful Australian Native Flora, through every season, flood or drought or in between. Each flower and leaf are so superbly different and so unique in their colour, texture, size and brightness. Being able to capture the absolute vibrancy and individuality of these blooms gives me great joy. Each new bloom is a promise of things to come.