The German artist and teacher Johannes Matthiesen and the Australian eurythmist David Stewart are organising several extraordinary projects with pupils to enable new experiences. – ‘School on the Road’ in Australia.
During both of our previous visits to Australia in 2002 and 2003, accompanied by students from Europe and USA, we worked with aborigines on limited artistic projects, but not with the depth of involvement we had wished for. In suburbia, and even in Alice Springs, their original lifestyle has been lost to such an extent that a really intimate dialogue and mutual artistic work was only possible to a tantalizingly small extent.
So the wish to live and work with them more closely grew and grew. Of course, the time available to us each year was very limited. We wanted to learn more about their connection with nature, their social structures and, even more important, their “story of creation”.
Then our chance came. Michele Forbes and Peter Flinn, who had become close friends when we met them at the Alice Springs Steiner School in 2002, had just moved to the aboriginal community of Jarlmadangah in the Kimberleys where Michele, as principal of the independent Aboriginal community school, was trying to work with Rudolf Steiner’s indications for education in a way suited to Aboriginal children. We received an invitation to work on an artistic stone-carving project with the school children and elders of the community in August 2005.
After flying from Germany to Broome via Singapore and Perth, we were picked up at the airport by Peter and Michele in the school 4WD bus and driven 300km through increasingly isolated country to Jarlmadangah. On this trip we were limited to just eight people because of the need to work as intimately as possible with the aborigines:
Upon arriving in the little community of Jarlmadangah we set up our swags and “mossie domes” right next to Peter and Michele’s house. We arrived after dark, but as soon as the sun rose we were surrounded by curious children looking to see what sort of white people had come during the night. They laughed and played around us, joked, told us their names and insisted on inspecting and handling every new object they could find.
Not an adult was to be seen. A relative from a neighbouring community had just died. We could hear them wailing and mourning from afar – it went quite under the skin. They were so deeply and completely involved in their “sorry business” that we thought our project had very little chance of ever getting off the ground. After a while we began to feel our thirst for action becoming more and more thwarted and our patience became quite tried. This, however, was to be our first lesson, and a very necessary one it was. We had to learn to set aside our own ideas and wishes and become calm and receptive: to listen!
On the third day things suddenly changed dramatically. The elders came and took us to an earlier roadwork site, where sandstone rocks of various sizes were lying around. Because all stones are sacred to the aborigines and it is very important which part of the land they come from, it had been quite uncertain until then which ones we would be allowed to use. But now they helped us to load about thirty good sized rocks onto a truck and trailer using a small crane.
Then, in the afternoon, Michele brought three of the female elders over to see us. We asked them to tell us their story about the creation of the world. After a couple of days of listening to them carefully and with the help of the children we were working with in the school we began to sketch the story on paper. Annie, a very special female elder who was also responsible for looking after the ill and disabled in the community, took a lot of time to patiently help us. Johannes was very eager to discover more about the deeper wisdom lying behind the pictures, but our aboriginal friends kept on calmly referring us back to the simple images in the story.
It took a long time and many evening discussions with Michele and Peter to even begin to feel how these people from this oldest of cultures experience the world around them. As things became clearer, we began to perceive a story of evolution:
It begins with a tree, a hunter and a large family. When we asked why there was not any mention of animals at the beginning of the story, the response was: “human beings were there first”. Woonyoomboo, the creative hunter, went out to seek food for his people. So, at the beginning of life on earth we find hunger and thirst. While searching for his needs Woonyoomboo goes through an endless series of learning experiences. As told to us, there were eighteen stages to Woonyoomboo’s long journey of development.
One day while looking for food, he found not only a great waterhole with many different sorts of fish to feed his large family, but he had an uneasy sense of something far greater rising out of the depths – something which seemed to be a huge fish. As he sprang into the water to grab it, he found that it wasn’t a fish at all, but an immense snake. As the Rainbow Snake rose, he saw it had an endlessly long body, a beard and a huge white feather on its head. Woonyoomboo sprang onto its back and balanced there holding his spear as the Snake slid and meandered across the land, creating valleys, mountains and, most importantly, the river in that area of Western Australia, the Fitzroy River.
So Woonyoomboo – the representative of mankind – became the co-creater of a new world. As he rode on the snake’s back, he gave all the beings on earth their names and their place in creation and told them what they had to do. His voice can be heard to this day in the call of the river heron... – At the beginning he was searching for his own needs; later he learnt to give. From once a needy man he had now become a creative benefactor.
It took us ten days to chisel this story into eighteen stones and two larger rocks. It is a story on which the Mangala and Nyikina people still base their way of life, their social forms and their hunting practice after many tens of thousands of years.
Johannes later shared a very special experience with us. One evening after we had been working hard all day, chiselling the stones with the aborigines, he walked alone, far out into the landscape: red sand, pallid tufts of grass and everywhere eucalyptus trees. Huge ghost trees standing here and there. He had been feeling the whole day that it simply wasn’t enough to arrange our stone sculptures in front of the school building. We wouldn’t reach deeply enough into the world living around us in this way. Deep in thought and walking barefoot through the red sand, he began to feel more and more strongly in touch with the eternal being of nature. He described his experience like this:
“I sat down, remaining motionless and listening, and began to feel this wonderful landscape speak. I felt a great longing among the nature beings to accompany man in his coming-of-age, to be able to develop with him and learn from him. To be given whatever he is capable of bestowing.
As the sun set, as it were thundering down over the horizon, I heard nature beings calling loudly out of nature’s own mouth: ‘You are aware of us. Share this awareness with us by expressing it in your art. We’ve been waiting patiently and for thousands of years.’ Deeply moved by these words, a shiver ran through my whole body and I quickly returned to the houses of the community. Later, lying under the stars in my swag, I resolved to chisel one more large stone sculpture as a gift for the nature beings. It was inspired by Goethe and Rudolf Steiner’s teachings as to the metamorphosis of the plant – a sculpture as an archetypal picture of evolution …
From the outside to the inside
From the inside to the outside
Changing eternally –”
This whole experience led to the unexpected climax of our stay: to the planting of the sculpture which the elders called the “cycle of life” as guardian stone at the entrance to a secret cave, the cave belonging to a powerful water spirit.
However, before this event could take place, we still had to work for many hours in the heat of the day until we had laid all eighteen stones belonging to the Story of Creation into a serpentine form in front of the school buildings. Two other large standing stones paid homage to the Rainbow Snake. Now the kids ran, jumped and played on their stones, often early in the morning. They had never written an exercise book with hammer and chisel before. And now they read their immemorial story of creation with their own hands and feet – they could “grasp” and “under-stand” it.
The elders were very happy. There were only about three of them left who could still recite the whole story in its entirety. Now that television can be received all over the continent, the pictures and sounds of our culture from the metropolis have driven many of the ancient pictures out of the souls of the youngsters. How happy we were when old Darby with his 85 years sang the story from beginning to end whilst sitting in his wheelchair, striking the rhythm with carved wooden sticks and singing a new song to the theme of each stone as though it would never end. It was on our second last evening that we were presented with a very special gift. The whole aboriginal community, young and old, whirled and danced around old Darby from different directions while he sang. They were all were painted with figures of birds and animals from the river and their land.
Their dance seemed to arise out of primal chaos and yet at the same time come from forces from mother earth and the cosmic order of the stars. Their symbolic spears topped with cockatoo feathers pointed continuously to the heavens. Never for a moment was this direction lost, but at the same time the stamping feet opened up the earth, whirling free energy into the air: a moment from the beginning of evolution, danced in the 21st century in the Outback.
The day after was to bring the biggest surprise of all. Johannes and David had finished the large standing stone for the nature spirits. The elders loved it and quickly decided to set this stone up in the free nature outside the community. So we all got up early, put the stone on a trailer and drove for an hour in a convoy of 4WDs until we reached the cave of the water spirit. According to the legends, this was where the story of creation began. It was also the place to go to pray for rain.
Shortly before we reached the entrance to the cave we were confronted by a huge light beige coloured King Brown snake, at least three metres long. Following this interruption, John Watson, an elder, began the ceremony. He addressed the spirits of the cave in a loud voice, asking for permission to approach. Then each of us was required to take a small stone from the ground, place it in one armpit and carry it there. Upon reaching the inside of the large cave with its water spring emanating from one wall and light coming down through a hole in the roof, each of us in turn threw his little stone into the water as a humble offering. – Returning from the cave, we all helped to plant the large guardian stone into its new place at the entrance.
A number of speeches were held, the aborigines thanking us very warmly for the connection which had grown up between us in this very short time. They were emphatic that this was because the connection came from the heart. We, on the other hand, recognized the immense suffering and loss of culture their peoples had been through in the past. David spoke of the huge debt that we Europeans and “European” Australians carry and the hope for the future that this can be turned to the good if we can accept this. – Some of us then waited a short while for the sun to rise higher. It then began to light up the face of the stone.
On the same day the elders fetched us all over to their gathering with an invitation to join their skin groups, and with much ceremony we were introduced to our new fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, aunts and uncles. That evening we had a big feast and this was also the moment to part from most of our new friends. But we knew we would see six of the youngsters and their teachers again at our youth conference in Bowral two weeks later. There that we received another warm greeting from the elders. Following our ceremony at the cave it had very unexpectedly rained for three days in the middle of the dry season…
Between Jarlmadangah and Bowral, we still had two very important visits to make – in Alice Springs and at Orana School in Canberra.
In 2003 we had spent three weeks working with 30 students in Alice Springs. The topic of the main project, aimed at achieving a cultural dialogue with the aborigines, had been a European one: the metamorphosis of the plant. This theme has been central in classical European culture and in the works of Rudolf Steiner, Goethe, Paul Klee and Joseph Beuys, to name just a few artists.
Standing at the Alice Springs Resort there was now a group of six large sculptured stones, each about the size of a man, a “seed” stone, a “leaf” stone, a “flower” stone etc., waiting to be given their final home. – By the way, their so-called “mother stone”, depicting all stages of growth in sequence, is now standing at the clinic in Mt. Barker, Adelaide. The guardian stone at Jarlmadangah is similar, but seems to speak to the hearts of the aborigines more because it employs sharp lines and forms similar to those in their dot-paintings.
After considering many different final locations for the stones in Alice Springs, we decided to place them under the open sky on land which the Alice Springs Steiner School had just acquired next to its present site. They were a gift to the school. With a lot of help from Mal Crowley and Christopher Brocklebank we were able to set the sculptures up in a circle which was laid out to correspond with the rising and falling path of the sun throughout the year: the “flower” stone to the north, where the sun reaches its culmination in summer and the “root” stone to the south, where it will receive the rays of the sun in winter. – The stone circle can help the students to appreciate physical phenomena and bring them into unison with the movements of the sun through the seasons, with the growth of the plant and even with biographical processes.
It was quite a shock for us to see the state of many of the aborigines in Alice Springs again. We had seen no problems with alcohol, drugs, petrol-sniffing or unemployment in Jarlmadangah. But in Alice Springs and then again in Mutitjulu Community at Uluru, it was a very different picture that we saw. The question arises more urgently than ever, how the treasures of the aboriginal culture can be allowed to contribute to a fruitful path into the future. In this respect we gained much insight meeting Bob Randall, well-known aboriginal elder from Mutitjulu and author of the book “Songman”, the song “My brown skin Baby” and a film about aboriginal issues being released in August 2006. We hope to work with him in the future.
We flew from Alice Springs to Sydney and then drove straight on down to Canberra. Four very productive days at Orana School followed, in which we helped with suggestions for future planning and created some new elements in the large school grounds. We had first visited Orana for two days in 2003, shortly after devastating and traumatic bush fires burnt down part of the school. The first day was devoted to lectures and eurythmy and the question was what to do with the second day. Upon experiencing the trauma which still existed in the school community, Johannes had the sudden inspiration to build something positive out of the left-overs from the fires. So, with the help of about 20 students, we built a “fire sculpture” out of burnt and blackened branches and logs. It stood on both sides of the path leading to the entrance of the school.
Now, two years later, we felt the need to balance out this monument, which was supposed to address the situation that existed immediately after the fires, by thinning out the burnt branches and planting fresh green-growing grasses between those which remained. We were amazed at what Tim Edmondson, the school gardener and gardening teacher, had achieved in the meantime, reforesting the burnt-out areas and creating imaginative stone terraces and watercourses. As usual, he was full of new ideas. The Japanese language lives very strongly at the Orana school and so the entrances to the upper and lower schools, right in the neighbourhood of our “fire sculpture”, were to be given a new design with a Japanese flair. What could we contribute? Our first idea was to complement the sculpture to the element of fire with one to the element of air – a large mobile made of branches strung up on a wire between two trees so that they are free to move and play in the wind. And under this mobile we placed two large rocks, into which we cut and chiselled Japanese characters. These characters say “Welcome” to all who wish to enter the school.
Two Japanese teachers, both women, helped us. As we watched intently, they painted the characters on paper with indian ink. Very impressive! It seemed as if they caught the spirit of the characters from out of the cosmos, let it breathe into their waiting arms and then guided the brush to leave behind a delicate trace of tusche on the innocent white paper. Using this paper, we then carved the figures into the stone…
The very special culmination of our journey was this gathering of nearly 150 students and their teachers for three days from 25th to 28th August, 2005. The encounter was a very lively one with people coming from all over the country, including six 15 year-old Aboriginal students from Jarlmadangah, W.A., and groups of various sizes from Mt. Barker (Adelaide), Melbourne, Canberra and Queensland. Of course, most came from NSW schools. They came to share their visions of their own future and the future of our Earth.
We had already been to Bowral to give lectures and eurythmy in 2002 and for a project in the school grounds in 2003. A small group of students from Europe accompanied us and, with the devoted help of Ben Cherry and Tillian and other members of the staff and parents, we worked to enliven and reshape the green park landscape and its beautiful groups of trees in front of the school. We were able to acquire about 20 outstanding rocks from nearby Mt. Gibraltar which we either sculpted or set up as standing stones. Four particularly large stones were used to erect a DOLMEN. Young children love the snugness and security inside a dolmen. But apart from this, we were well aware that setting up stones in this way has a strong effect on the energy patterns in the area, and we tried to work very consciously with these.
The standing stones, mostly set upright and loosely arranged in groups, speak to us like archaic human figures from a long-gone past. It is the space between the stones – Johannes calls this their “social-aesthetic” relationship – which speaks loudest of all. The varying size and quality of the gap between stones of different shapes and sizes can express many different things: maybe they are close together, bestowing a quality of warmth upon them, or stretched out, dilated, separate and cold; a stone can resonate together with the others, or be dissonant, and coerce and compel them; be obtrusive or leave them free. It can be genial and harmonious, or produce agitation and tension. Children experience these varying constellations which go to make up society very deeply when they play among the stones each day. This should sensitize them to the energies existing between people; some more positive, others more negative. It’s in the space between us that the spirit of community lives: “Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.”
Even in 2003, after we had erected these “social-stones”, Johannes had an inspiration that the “space in between” would be a very fitting theme for an Australian youth conference. So, while reviewing that project with Ben Cherry he suggested a sequel – but this time with students.
Listening to the experience of others, becoming aware, encouraging and supporting one another and not being afraid of making critical observations or challenging one another to have more courage. Johannes, in his long years of experience in these situations, had often found that a special setting and atmosphere can be beneficial in awakening the enormous potential and slumbering impulses which live in all young people in varying forms.
After much deliberation and many emails and telephone conversations between the two countries, Bowral sent an interesting programme suggestion to us. Each day would include talks from both the young and those more experienced, with rotating work groups and discussions in plenum. Each day would be given a theme which would then develop into the theme of the next day:
- „The Sacred Earth“, an introduction on the first evening. A traditional Aboriginal welcome to the land and a cultural presentation: the class play from years 9 and 10.
- „The Looming Shadow“, first day. Following singing, dancing and eurythmy, we observe the feelings of fear and helplessness which many experience in today’s world.
- „Empowerment“, second day. We turn to new hope. A look at the tremendous possibilities to be experienced, whether in a group or alone.
- „Claiming the Future”, third day. The way to get there.
So, at long last and after two years of planning, we arrived in Bowral in August 2005 on our way from Canberra. We were greeted by an unbelievably friendly group of staff and parents who had battled the whole time against inconceivable odds to get the conference going. The degree of positive response from students and teachers all over Australia took them quite by surprise, and after almost 150 students had enrolled they had to declare the conference full and refuse all further applications. The original idea had been to invite more students from non-Steiner schools as well, but this was no longer possible. Much of the Bowral school was in the process of being rebuilt and amenities were limited.
It was spring, still cold, and there was only one shower on the premises! And yet, everything worked out wonderfully. Maybe the necessity to improvise was a help rather than a hindrance. Such abundant and tasty meals issued out of a miniscule kitchen and landed on the buffet tables in the garden that some said they had never ever eaten so well before. Our thanks to the school parents! Due to the cold in the evenings, fires were lit in a number of 44-gallon drums spread round the courtyard. Groups drinking hot tea and engaged in long discussions sat around the fires until late at night. We slept in sleeping bags in the same rooms used for the presentations during the daytime. This might have appeared cramped and cold at another time, but right now it was the very thing which brought us closer together and created warmth between us.
On the first evening, years 9 and 10 from the host school enacted a play which Ben Cherry had written for the occasion, “The Sun, the Sword and the Computer” – an excellent and poignant performance. In this play, Ben tears away the superficial and allows us to see today’s culture from a more profound viewpoint. Deeply moved, we took many questions for the next day with us into the sleep world.
Among the students were six from Jarlmadangah and their teachers who had come all the way from the Kimberleys for the conference. They had saved for a long time to pay for the flights and from the moment they arrived at the school they were surrounded by other students. They were always warm and natural, even if a little shy at the beginning. They felt freer with those of us they already knew. On the morning of the second day they told their “story of creation” to the whole group. As a result of the aura around them, profoundly human and absolutely peaceful, they advanced more and more to become the warm focus of the conference.
A profound concern for the future development of mankind and the earth on which we live was very evident among all those who were gathered there. But, with a wide variety of participants and especially lecturers coming from very different areas in life, some more out of Anthroposophy, some less, we also had uncertain situations to face. In the end, the most positive influence came from the students themselves. On the Saturday evening, during a large performance of eurythmy and dance around a huge “fire of purification”, a great feeling of community arose. Then came the culmination during the main gathering on the Sunday, when the young people began quite unexpectedly with a long and wholly spontaneous contribution in song in free melody, first one, then another, then growing and growing, until all were singing and it was like opening a window into a sacred world.
The real transformation which the conference as a whole went through had its origin in the souls of the young people themselves. This was the most significant experience. The students were certainly motivated by the manifold artistic courses, lectures and workshops and, for many, it was a life-changing event. Here are a few of the responses:
- This was the most magnificent experience of my entire life!
- This experience has given me a clearer understanding of ‘life’ and has changed my life and lead me another way!!!
- This feeling of being able to have this compassion for everyone with a sense of empathy has changed me forever.
- I found everything about this conference inspiring, informative and extremely helpful to answer some of the questions I am asking about life!.....it was perfect.
During a mutual review of the conference on the last day by those who had been teaching, it quickly became clear to us what a great success it had been, especially thanks to those who had prepared it with such commitment. It had not taken long for the students to jump in and take on an increasing amount of responsibility. Those youngsters who have enough courage to throw their own contribution onto the weighing scales at this turning-point in world history deserve our full and heart-felt thanks and respect.
Johannes Matthiessen, David Stewart
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Contact person: David Stewart