‘A position of unofficial war’: Artist Richard Bell’s view of post-Voice Australia

Each week, Benjamin Law asks public figures to discuss the subjects we’re told to keep private by getting them to roll a die. The numbers they land on are the topics they’re given. This week, he talks to Richard Bell. The 69-year-old is a member of the Kamilaroi, Kooma, Jiman and Gurang Gurang nations. He is represented in major collections worldwide and is the subject of the documentary You Can Go Now.

Richard Bell: “I hope that I’ve lived a good life where I’ve been kind and generous; not been a prick.”Credit: Paul Harris

SEX

Richard, we’re going to talk about sex. Oh, for f---’s sake! [Laughs]

What were you told about sex growing up? That it was prohibited. There was a lot of that kind of prudishness when I was growing up.

What would you tell a young Richard Bell about sex and relationships if you could time-travel? To be kinder to people than you’d normally be when you’re young.

Did you feel attractive growing up? Not until I got out of Mitchell [in Queensland’s Maranoa region], one of the towns I grew up in. When I went to Dalby [four hours east of Mitchell], it was a bigger town, so it wasn’t quite as racist. Of course, you’re just seeing all white people and they’re the measure of beauty. It was a challenge for us black kids to deal with that. Things changed when I moved to Sydney – to Redfern – and was surrounded by other black people.

What’s sexy – and unsexy – about the work you do? What’s sexy is probably the [exhibition] openings. They’re really exciting and make it worthwhile. What’s not sexy is the amount of effort and time that goes into producing the work, although it’s very rewarding. Like every other job, it becomes a grind. But we have a hell of a lot of fun making it, too.

POLITICS

In 1968, your family was living on an Aboriginal reserve in Mitchell. One morning at 7am, local authorities came to bulldoze your home. How does something like that affect how you see the world? It coloured it in pretty profound ways. It’s probably shaped my life as much as, or more than, any other issue. These people thought it was all right to come and just bulldoze somebody’s f---ing home. I was 14 at the time, so it was very traumatic. I was aware that we were Aboriginal people, that we owned the place.

Is it true that you still describe yourself primarily as an activist – and then as an artist? Yeah, I do. That’s the attitude I bring to the practice. I’m interested in the activist realm, in the subject matter [and] in the strategies.

“All art is political, whether you intend it to be or not.” True or false? I tend to agree with that. One way or another, it’s political, whether at the end or at the start. At the beginning and the end and everywhere in between.

How did you vote in last week’s referendum to alter the constitution? I didn’t vote. I believed there was a very strong case for “No”, but the problem was that the racists all lined up behind “No”. I found it very difficult to be in that position.

You didn’t want to align yourself with racists, but you didn’t want to vote “Yes”. What were your reservations? We’ve had these kind of interventions before, like Reconciliation and Recognise. Let’s cut straight to the chase and talk about a treaty. Under international law, there are only three ways that a nation can acquire sovereignty. One is conquest, two is cession and three is terra nullius. In this country, the High Court has ruled out terra nullius, so we’re left with conquest and cession. Under both, treaty is the result. That’s what we should talk about, not a Voice to Parliament.

What do you think will be the situation with regards to a treaty happening now? There is a legal responsibility for the Australian government to begin treaty negotiations. Until the Australian government calls a halt to hostilities and begins treaty negotiations, we’re gonna remain in a position of unofficial war.

DEATH

We’ve landed on death. Well, I’m approaching it. We’re all approaching it.

And how do you feel about that? I’m nowhere near as afraid of death as I was when I was younger.

That’s interesting. I would have assumed that the older you get, the more real it becomes, and the fear would be bigger. Is that not the case for you? I’ve come to terms with my demise, at least in my mind. I’m sure as it approaches, I’ll be as scared as ever. But it doesn’t bother me in my day-to-day.

What losses have hit you the hardest? Losing my mother, Sarah, when I was 17. That hit me hard. She was an incredible woman. She was really talented. She could paint, sew; she was a pastry chef; she could make and decorate wedding cakes. It affected my culinary tastes later in life because I’d have to taste all the icing and marzipan that she made for the cakes. I didn’t eat sweets for about 30 years after she died.

What do you think happens after we die? I have no idea. White people say heaven or hell is waiting for me when I die. My people tell me something different.

What would you like to happen after you die? Oh, god. I hope people celebrate my life. I hope that I’ve lived a good life where I’ve been kind and generous to people; not been a prick.

If you were to die today, would you have any regrets about things that you hadn’t done? Maybe a bit of tidying up, but no. Gee, I think I’ve done pretty good, I gotta be honest. I think I’ve achieved quite a lot.

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