"Youngster" Memorial Plaque for Children in Immigration Detention

In May 2015, Sydney Morning Herald journalist Nick Galvin reported a mysterious plaque that had appeared on a Sydney wall. The plaque, on the corner of George and Barrack sts in Sydney's CBD, turns Caroline Rothwell's whimsical sculpture "Youngster" into a memorial for refugee children.
Drawing on language that Australians would have been very familiar with from the ANZAC centenary celebrations just a month before, the plaque begins, "Lest We forget Them."

It continues:

Children seeking asylum in Australia are kept in detention as part of a government policy which inflictc harm on refugees fleeing violence and persecution.
Their suffering is our shame.
Here at this site we remember them and together call out for change. 

The plaque is very small and barely noticeable, yet it is a strong call to all those who pass by the busy corner to call to mind children held in Australia's detention centre. It was installed in the wake of a damning report by the Australian Human Rights Commission, Forgotten Children, released at the end of 2014.  The report's title echoes the 2004 Forgotten Australians Report into the treatment of Australian children in state care.
The sculpture the plaque has attached itself to is a small bronze sculpture of a young person in a hoodie. It stands at about chest height for most adults: a very small person covered by too-big-for-it clothes. Artist Caroline Rothwell was quoted as saying she was honoured her sculpture was being used in this way.
"I agree with the sentiment. Also part of my idea with the work is that these little hooded figures we generally see as a threatening form are actually vulnerable."
The building on which the plaque was attached is owned by the City of Sydney and leased by luxury clothing brand Burberry. So far, the plaque has been allowed to remain.

Questions:

If you know of anyone who was involved in the creation of this plaque, I would love to hear from them. Email ali.phd.map@gmail.com

Parramatta Female Factory Precinct Memory Project (and planned memorial)

The Parramatta Female Factory Precinct Memory Project (PFFPMP) is an arts-based memory project based in an area of the Sydney suburb of Parramatta which has been used since early colonial days to house women and children in institutional settings. The project is driven by artist and memory activist Bonney Djuric, herself a former inmate at Parramatta and founder of the Parra Girls group.   

While there is as yet no formal memorial on site, Bonney and other artists have used art and community creative events to make the history of the site more visible. PFFPMP works out of a single room in the precinct grounds, but has managed to turn the two storey building into a gallery space, hosting exhibitions and allowing artists to interpret the now-empty spaces on the second floor.

"The Forgotten Ones" installation by Bonney Djuric

 

 As well as this, the site has been used for gathering of ex-inmates (known as Parragirls), a conference and various community days. There are plans underway to develop a children's garden, to transform a site that was once a place of pain into a place of joy.
PFFPMP is the only Australian site connected to the international Site of Conscience movement, which is aimed at using places where past human rights abuses have occurred to educate people for a better future. However, the future use of the site is still uncertain. The Female Factory Precinct is still being assessed for national heritage status.  As an outcome of the Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse, a consultation process has started to develop a government-funded memorial, although this project will not formally involved either Parra Girls or PFFPMP. Informal artistic responses to the history of the site are already in place.  

Australian Ex-Prisoner of War Memorial, Ballarat, Victoria

The Australian Ex-Prisoner of War Memorial is unusual in that it is located in the regional Victorian town of Ballarat, rather than in the national capital, Canberra. Part of the reason for that is the lack of recognition for many years of the role played by prisoners of war (POW) in Australia's war history. The memorial was built near the Ballarat Botanical Gardens and dedicated in 2004 after veterans became disillusioned when vague plans to build in Canberra came to nothing. In 2008, the memorial was recognised as officially ‘national’.

The POW memorial acknowledges both those who died and those who lived. The names of all known POWs are engraved on a wall of black granite, in alphabetical order grouped according to which conflict they were involved in. This is similar to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in the US, although there the names are of those who died and are listed chronologically. When I visited in July 2015, many of the names were decorated by red poppies.

In a break about half way along the wall, seven obelisks stand in a shallow pool of water, with one laid on its side representing the fallen. This is not representative of the percentages of those who lived versus those who died, as up to a quarter of POWs did not return. The obelisks also list the names of places overseas where Australian armed forces have been held captive. 

Images: 12, 21, 33, 25?, 37, 40

Opposite the obelisks stands a single stone with the names and dates of each of the wars. This stone is surrounded by flagpoles. In between is a slab on which wreaths can be placed on special days engraved with the words "We will remember them."

At the end of the walkway, which is designed to reference the railway sleepers that were a horrific part of many WW2 POW's experience, is a wall of water. On top of this is engraved the words, "Lest we forget". It is the water from this wall that runs along the shallow stream past the names and around the obelisks.

The memorial was designed by Peter Blizzard and a black granite slab at the entrance is engraved with an explanation of the symbolism of the  various elements. It states:

"This memorial is dedicated to all Australians who became prisoners of war while fighting the enemy." 

The physical memorial is also connected to educational material, including a touch-screen console at the memorial site, and a website containing more information.

Colebrook Reconciliation Park, Eden Hills, South Australia

The suburb of Eden Hills, located on the edge of the Adelaide Hills, is now a busy urban area, with few remaining areas of natural bushland. However, in 1944, when the Colebrook Home for Aboriginal Children moved there from Quorn, one of the reasons this site was chosen was its remoteness from the city. This was as close to ‘civilisation’ as a home for Aboriginal children was to be allowed.
The bush block on which Colebrook was built is now mostly empty of buildings, and instead is covered in original and recovering bush vegetation, a 'dancing circle', a shed and toilet. The site of the old 'home' has been reclaimed as the Colebrook Reconciliation Park. This is probably the biggest and most significant Stolen Generations memorials in Australia - so this will be quite a long post as I try and do it justice.

The Reconciliation Park is located on Shepherd's Hill Road, next to the Karinya Rotary Reserve. For commuters driving through the surburb, its most visible part would be the mural painted by Kunyi McInerny in the mid 2000s. The mural tells the story of children from both the riverlands and the inland APY (Anangu Pitjantjatjara Yankunytjatjara) lands, where Kunyi herself was from, being brought to Colebrook. It tells this story truthfully but also with a sense of hope. To the left it reads,

“We cannot forget the past, but we can come together and unite as one, in friendship and forgiveness, and honouring each others culture.”
Although she was not a resident of Colebrook herself, Kunyi had sisters in the home, and is a member of the Tji Tji Tjuta group, meaning "all the children". Along with this group of ex-residents, the other group involved with and responsible for the Reconciliation Park is the Blackwood Reconciliation Group, a grassroots community organisation that grew out of a study program in the early 1990s as part of the Australian Government’s decade-long focus on Reconciliation which was funded 1991-2001.

For visitors who leave the road and pull into the small carpark, the main memorial area is a peaceful park area where the natural bush has partly re-grown and a few more established trees provide shade. Pathways are punctuated by large boulders and two simple seats. Some of the larger boulders contain plaques with various dates, often around or just after 26 May, the date the Bringing Them Home report was tabled in Parliament, which has come to be known as "Sorry Day" and marks the beginning of Reconciliation Week.
The first plaque is dated 1997 and was unveiled by former resident Prof Lowitja O'Donahue just days after the tabling of the Bringing Them Home Report. A community barbeque planned as a reunion events for a few hundred ex-residents and community members drew a crowd of around 2,000 over the course of the day, and a hastily passed around bucket became the start of the funding for the two formal memorials onsite, both created local artist Silvio Apponyi.

The "Fountain of Tears" was installed in 1998. Water bubbles out of the fountain onto an empty coolamon, a traditional bowl-like tool often used to carry babies. The water then runs down over faces carved into the granite surface of the memorial before collecting in a small pond at the bottom. The models for these faces were ex-residents of Colebrook, but as adults they also represent the faces of the people left behind in the communities from which children were taken.
In 1998, a bronze statue was installed. This sculpture is called the “Weeping Mother” and represents all the mothers of the children who were taken to Colebrook. Although the sculpture is of a woman staring down at her empty hands, she is rarely found without something in those hands, as
people bring flowers or beads as a mark of respect.
There are also a number of plaques on rocks around the pathways the crisscross the park. One of these plaques honours two women who were in charge of the Home in the early days, and also shows a composite image of some of the ex-residents as children. Writing in her autobiography, Kick the Tin, Doris Kartinyeri says they are “just like the pictures in my house" – photos of our brothers and sisters from the home.
An important part of the development of the Reconciliation Park has been reclaiming this space as a positive place for ex-residence and the community. Many residents of Colebrook suffered abuse and neglect, on top of the pain of being removed from their families and communities, and re-claiming the space has allowed them to return and to remember the bad but also the good times they shared growing up. A short way away from the memorial
space is a fire pit surrounded by rocks and wooden seats to form a story circle. The Blackwood Reconciliation Group still meets here in good weather, and students from Flinders University are regularly brought to hear the stories, passing on the history to another generation. In 2014, local high school students completed an art project to decorate the shed which can be used for shelter.
Colebrook is different from many other memorials sites, because it is not one single memorial, but a site layered with acts of remembrance from 1997 right up to the present. The reason for these memorials has changed over time. As the remaining original residents have aged and many have died, the focus has shifted from acknowledgement and mourning for residents to advocacy and education for future generations.

Forgotten Australians Memorial, Royal Botanical Gardens, Sydney

The Australian Federal Government provided $100,000 in funding for memorials to acknowledge the Forgotten Australians. Divided among the different states, this amounted to $16,666 each. The NSW State Government chose to place this plaque at the Twin Ponds site of the Royal Botanical Gardens in Sydney, turning the area into a quiet, reflective space where people can come to remember and acknowledge the experiences of people who spent their childhood in State care.
That is one interpretation. The other is that the memorial is hidden away, continuing a tradition of marginalising this aspect of Australia's history.
The memorial plaque reads:

For Forgotten Australians In this place, we remember the many thousands of NSW children who grew up in care in the decades leading up to the 1990s – in orphanages, in Children’s Homes and foster homes, in institutions. We remember the lonely, the frightened, the lost, the abused – those who never knew the joy of a loving family, who suffered too often at the hands of a system meant to provide for their safety and wellbeing. We rejoice in their courage and strength. This corner of the Gardens is dedicated to their memory.Erected by the Australian and NSW Governments19 September 2009

Enterprise Tribute Garden, Springvale,Victoria

The Enterprise Tribute Garden is located in the grounds of Lexington Gardens aged care facility in Spingvale, an outer suburb of Melbourne, Victoria. The 'tribute' remembers the site's prior use as the Enterprise Hostel, an Australian Government reception facility for migrants and refugees.

Marking a mid-point between the post-war programs that saw non-British migrants housed in ex-army barracks in remote locations, the Enterprise Hostel was seen as a new approach, where migrants were offered up to 12 months of supported hostel-style accommodation (depending on need) to assist their transition to life in Australia. The Hostel opened in 1970, initially housing mostly migrants. From the mid-1970s onwards, many of the residents were refugees, and for a short time it also operated as a detention facility for a group of Cambodian refugees. Closing for a short time 1985-1988, the Enterprise finally shut its doors in 1992.

The idea to create some kind of acknowledgement came from long-term Springvale residents who had been connected to the Hostel in various ways - through the Springvale Community Aid and Advice Bureau and the Neighbourhood House, as teachers and in local government. They wanted to pay tribute to the important role the Hostel had played in the development of their community, which they see as being enriched and transformed by the people who came through the Hostel. The project originally began as an exhibition titled "A Worthwhile Enterprise" developed for the Victorian Immigration Museum's community program. The exhibition developed into an oral history collection and online exhibition now accessible at www.enterprisehostel.org.

The title of this site is "Not a Celebration"; the memorial is certainly a celebration in many ways. However, the Tribute Garden marks the point of arrival for people who were leaving behind homes and families, often in difficult or even traumatic circumstances. For those people, it marks not only a new beginning, but a place to reflect on the events or reasons leading to their migration. For members of the Enterprise Migrant Hostel History Project team, it also serves as a reminder of the stark difference between the ethics of care and welcome shown to migrants and refugees arriving at that time, compared to current policies.

Clockwise from top: Heather, Betty and Merle
worked with migrants during the Enterprise years,
and want the story to be told. 

The Tribute Garden was developed after by landscape architecture firm Sinatra Murphy, and involved extensive community consultation. A circular path through a bed of roses, representing the often winding path of migration. The rose itself is a specially developed hybrid called the Enterprise Rose, significant because the well-tended rose beds at the front of the Enterprise Hostel were often part of migrants' first impressions of Australia, and became a symbol of the care they received.

The path leads to a central area where a wooden bench lists the number of migrants received. Two digi-glass panels shaped like rose petals are printed with a map of the world. Bubbles/droplets run in streams between two opens hands and the various countries from which migrants were received.

The Tribute Garden is part of the larger, ongoing project to tell the story of the Enterprise Hostel and how "how strong, cohesive, vibrant communities can be built when migrants and refugees are warmly welcomed through unique, innovative settlement programs based on welcome, support and respect." 

Another smaller rose garden and plaque are located outside the Springvale Community Aid and Advice Bureau, and eventually the plan is to have a path of remembrance running through Springvale from Lexington Gardens to a newly developed community space at the local library.

Peace Park Mosaic, Noble Park

The Peace Park Mosaic began life in 1994 as Landcare Environmental Action Program (LEAP) community art project. Lead by Artist and museum curator Kitty Owens, then a recent university graduate, led an oral history project working with young refugees and migrants from the local area, Christine Mae Chua, DC June Isiderio, Carlo Rivas, Hawaa Fikak, Wajesta Ezadyar, Chan Chiem, Siemchou Vongsikeo, Liam Chi Dang.
The mosaic mural that grew from the project is a war memorial with a difference, expressing the experience of conflict from the perspective of civilians.
A printed tile plaque reads:

This mural is dedicated to the friends and relatives of this area who died in war and to those people we have been separated from in the process of migration.
It is also a celebration of peace.

So, although it is dedicated to people who died, it also acknowledges another form of loss, that caused by separation. Behind this story, is also the story of the traumatic experience of living through war.
Originally attached to the wall of the Noble Park RSL (Return Services League), the mural needed to be removed because of building renovations in 2003. Ann Clark and Libby McKinnon had also been involved as leaders in the original project, and Libby was engaged to undertake restoration work.
The memorial is now four separate panels, with parts of the original mosaic on each panel. Although it does not have the same sense of story-telling as the original artwork, it still manages to convey the sense of loss and the pain of separation caused by war.

On thing that is really nice about this memorial is that it is located within the same space as the local war memorial. In fact, it takes up the space between the traditional war memorial and the Noble Park RSL building. In this sense, it is an ongoing reminder that war has consequences for ordinary people, not only for soldiers. This seems like an important thing to emphasize in Australia. The 2003 restoration project was undertaken because the RSL recognised the significance of this memorial. 

The Enterprise Migrant Hostel in nearby Springvale had only closed a few years before this project began, connecting this project to a more recent memorial project, the Enterprise Tribute Garden. One of the aims of that memorial is to draw attention to the difference between the welcoming, supportive refugee policies of the 1970s and 80s and today's punitive offshore processing regime. 

Coming and Going Child Migrants Memorial, Sydney

"Coming and Going" by Sydney sculptor Sasha Reid,  is a playful aluminium cut-out, like a paper chain that sits on a section of grass near the entrance to the National Maritime Museum. It is close to a circular driveway used by buses, and is visible from Murray Street. The area is reportedly used as a meeting place for school groups, but it is certainly not a prominent location.

This memorial was installed by the NSW State Government (with funding from the Australian Government) to acknowledge the experience of children who were sent to Australia from the UK and Malta during the 20th Century. Often the children were given inaccurate information about their birth families (including being told parents were dead when they were not) and many suffered various forms of institutional abuse.

The memorial plaque reads: 

This memorial is dedicated to child migrants from the United Kingdom and Malta who had to leave their families and country of birth during the years 1912 - 1967. After arriving by ship, these children faced an unknown future in New South Wales. Many endured personal hardships, some experienced great suffering. They and their families have made and continue to make a valuable contribution to their communities and to Australia. 

"Coming and Going" is similar to Judith Forrest's "Unfolding Lives" sculpture in Perth, which acknowledges Forgotten Australians, in that it references a childhood toy that might have been available to children with little else. But apart from the words on the small plaque, there is nothing to disrupt the sense of fun. So for many people who see it in passing, it is just another piece of playful public art. This seems strange for a sculptor who has experience in creating memorial art; Sasha Reid was also responsible for the memorial to victims of the Bali bombings at Coogee, NSW. 

The memorial is located near the 'Welcome Wall' which leads down to the harbour. The Welcome Wall was created as a way to acknowledge people who have migrated to Australia. Like the wall, and despite the title of the sculpture, which suggests movement, this memorial seems to be more focussed on marking the arrival of the child migrants than on telling the story of before or after.

Questions:

I wonder what brief the artist was given? Were they asked to acknowledge the pain and suffering caused by child migration, or simply to create something relating to 'childhood'? 

Child Migrants Memorial, Fremantle, Western Australia

The Western Australian memorial to former child migrants is located near the entry of the Maritime Museum, between two areas of 'Welcome Walls' on which the names of many of those who have migrated to Australia through the port of Fremantle are listed.

The memorial takes the form of a figurative sculpture by Joan Walsh Smith and Charles Smith, depicting two young children, a boy and a girl, standing with their suitcases near the edge of the warf. A statement by former WA Community Development Minister Sheila McHale says the expression on the children's faces is of "awe and wonder"; however, conversations with former child migrants suggest to me that their feelings were much more mixed, and included (well founded) fear and apprehension.

The location is significant, because this is close to the place where many of the migrants would actually have arrived in Australia. The proximity to the Welcome Walls is also important, as it raises the profile of child migrants within all the other groups of migrants arriving in Australia. Some former child migrants have their names listed on the walls, but the walls do not tell their story in any way that distinguishes it from other more willing arrivals.

Although more recent memorials seem to be moving away from using figurative sculpture, the former child migrants themselves seem to appreciate it, at least in this particular example. One former migrant told me she felt able to identify with the sculpture, and that the girl's expression captures her feelings on arrival.

Like other memorials to child migrants, the funding for this memorial was a response to the "Lost Innocents" report of the Australian Senate Inquiry in 2001. The report recommended Government funding for memorials; however, the emphasis was on acknowledging the contribution migrants have made to Australia, rather than acknowledging any suffering caused by the migrations schemes that saw over 3,200 unaccompanied children sent to Australia during the 20th century.

A child migrants committee was involved in the memorial selection process, and submitted a number of suggestions for appropriate plaques that included poetry by former migrants themselves. However, a more prosaic form of words was eventually agreed. Two plaques lie side by side, one of which contains the dedication of the memorial, the other details of the artists.
The text on the acknowledgement plaque reads:

This memorial is jointly funded by the Commonwealth and Western Australian Governments and is dedicated to the British and Maltese boys and girls who left their homelands to brave an unknown future in Western Australia. Hardships were endured, benefits were derived. These child migrants provided valuable contributions to Australian society in diverse ways as parents, workers and citizens. Australia is better for their coming.

Illa Kuri Sacred Dreaming Track, East Perth

Winding along the edge of the Derbal Yerrigan (Swan River), near the entry of the Claisebrook Inlet in East Perth, Illa Kuri by Toogarr Morrison is generally understood as a public artwork rather than as a memorial. Nonetheless, Morrison has made use of many elements used in other memorials looked at on this site to tell the story of the loss of land and culture since colonisation. 

A plaque on the one of the stones at the beginning of the bath reads: 

This sacred path representing the Illa Kuri journey is where initiates walked through the Claisebrook valley on the way to their homes. The path leads from one freshwater lake to another. These are represented by the twelve granite rocks that stand as silent sentries.

The names of the tribes and totems are there to guide you through the sacred Illa Kuri dreaming and the sacred totem emblems which gave the indigenous people their identity.

The sacred dreaming path is never ending.

Despite the hopeful note at the end of the plaque, I understand Illa Kuri as a memorial to a lost landscape. This area of Australia is one of the world's biodiversity hotspots, but most of these lakes and wetlands have been filled in or polluted since the arrival of Europeans. 

The Nyungar people are the traditional owners of the South West corner of Australia, although Morrison favours talking about the Bibulmun nation rather than the Nyungar people, since Nyungar is the name for ‘man’ in the language of his people. He is a well respected local artist and Elder. 

One of the reasons the East Perth area has a strong connection with Aboriginal people is because it was a camping ground on the edge of the city at a time, at the beginning of the last century, when they were banned from Perth after curfew. That connection has been maintained throughout the 20th century. 

The area around the East Perth foreshore has been renamed Ngango Batta’s Mooditcher, translated as ‘Sunshine’s Living Strength’ and, according to the City of Perth, is now seen as a place of reconciliation and renewal.

Edge of the Trees, Museum of Sydney

The Edge of the Trees is an art installation by Fiona Foley and Janet Laurence commissioned as part of the development of the Museum of Sydney, which opened in May 1995. Althought most often referred to as an art installation, it is also a memorial that calls to mind not only the local Eora peoples or the colonisers and convicts of Sydney's history, but the painful history of their relationship to each other.
The title of the artwork is taken from a passage of text by Rhys Jones (1985) describing the moment of first contact between Aboriginal people and colonisers:

...the discoverers struggling through the surf were met on the beaches by other people looking at them form the edges of the trees. Thus the same landscape perceived by the newcomers as alien, hostile or having no coherent form, was to the indigenous people their home, a familiar place, the inspiration of dreams.

The Museum of Sydney is a heritage site located where the State's original Government House once stood. Just on the other side of the entry path, visitors to the Museum of Sydney and view the excavated foundations of this early colonial building through a glass display case. It is designed to be passed through by visitors on their way into the museum, but is set off to the side, so this is optional.

For those people who do choose to enter, the installation offers a strangely overwhelming experience, considering that it is near a very busy road in the centre of Sydney. Visitors find themselves surrounded by posts, a little bit like tree trunks but made of a variety of different materials that reference the history of Sydney, including aged timber, sandstone, and industrial steel girders. Some of the posts are inscribed with words: Eora place names; the names of convicts; fragments of colonials text. Others contain materials that reference the kinds of keeping and categorising that might be found within a museum, but also refer to Eora culture: ash, sand, shells.
Alongside these visual and tactile elements are sound recordings in both Eora and English. The artwork does not tell the story of colonisation, and may be 'unreadable' for visitors who don't already know this history. But, much like any memorial, for someone who understands something of the story it creates a sense of complexity and sadness.
Edge of the Trees was created in the 1990s, during Australia's official decade of Reconciliation. But Janet Laurence, an Aboriginal artist, has said that both the process of creation and the artwork itself were more about negotiated co-existence than reconciliation.

Questions:

Where is the line between an artwork and a memorial, if the artwork is about memory?