The Right to Remain Silent: The Art of the Sabbatical

Dudley House, 60 View Street, Bendigo 

The Right to Remain Silent: Art of The Sabbatical is a collaborative exhibition by a mother-daughter duo, Lee Trewartha and Erynn Trewartha-Lewicki, navigating the profound depths of stillness over the course of a transformative year. United not only by their familial bond, but also by shared battles against physical illness and the exhaustion from burnout. Both artists found solace and renewal in a carefully cultivated period of solitude. 

The poem The Right to Remain Silent by Kai Siedenburg deeply resonated with them as they journeyed towards respite from what was described in the poem as the “ceaseless swirl of the modern world”. During this time, they embraced their artistic identities – once constrained by external pressures – reimagining their work through the lens of being present. 

Lee has traded her once energetic, large, black and white works that are now out of her reach physically, for calm pockets of meditative space, inspired by her garden, the natural landscape and the sky above. Erynn’s illustrations, still life images and self portraiture use a mixture of inanimate objects, botanicals and birds to represent – as described in the poem – the journey “to another way of being”. 

The exhibition will showcase their unique yet complimentary artistic expressions, reflecting their shared journey.

Exhibition Opening: Saturday 26 April 3pm (members of the public are welcome).
 
Sunday 27 April 10am-4pm
Monday 28 April 10am-4pm 
Tuesday 29 April 10am-4pm 
Wednesday 30 April 10am-4pm 
Thursday 1 May 10am-4pm 
Friday 2 May 10am-4pm 
Saturday 3 May 10am-4pm 
Sunday 4 May 10am-4pm 
Monday 5 May 10am-4pm 
Tuesday 6 May 10am-12pm 


Artist Statements

Lee Trewartha

Life is perplexing. An unanticipated fork in the road, that initially creates uncomfortable challenges, can result in the most unexpected joy. Periods of trial that seem insurmountable can push us in an altered direction and can mould us in a way that may have otherwise passed us by, robbing us of experiences that ultimately make life richer and deeper, and this is what we’ll explore visually in this exhibition. Inspired by Kai Siedenburg’s work “The Right To Remain Silent”, a poem that resonated with both myself and daughter Erynn …. “we found a space in the centre of the storm, where we could go to be restored so we could return to the fray with renewed strength”.  It seemed all I needed to restore and find my way back was a time of forced sabbatical and the colour green…

An art practice, or the absence of it, often closely mirrors the life of the artist. For years my art practice had focussed on exuberant, large black and white semi-abstracted pieces rooted in the Baroque and neo-baroque that required a high level of physicality. This all came to a halt due to the running of a busy food business to make ends meet that exacerbated an existing disability that had become unmanageable and required major surgery. Unexpected complications subsequently arose, resulting in me being close to bedridden for many months. During my convalescence, my daughter Erynn spent many hours with me in my backroom makeshift studio, as I was unable to venture into my usual garage studio space.  During this time Erynn encouraged me to pick up my brushes and reclaim that part of my life that I thought I’d lost.

Initially, I had little interest in attempting any other style of work. I felt I was not being true to my initial practice, effectively abandoning the years that I’d deeply immersed myself in and hence not expressing myself with the same intensity and voice. With little interest, I flicked open a book looking for a prompt of sorts and I came across a work by Dutch landscape master Salomon van Ruysdael, titled River Landscape with Boats. I reasoned it was as good a place as any to start. I produced a little pastel work, not praiseworthy by any means, in fact showing the inevitable “rustiness” one would expect from a period of hiatus from one’s trade, but it had an impact upon me; a welling up of feelings for my craft that I had involuntarily buried. I had let external influences and hardship subdue my artistic journey, I had allowed myself to be trapped in the “…ceaseless swirl of the modern world”, with no clear path back. However, from that point on, I obsessively painted using green and its many variations of the landscape, both natural and constructed being my muse.

Over the year of my recuperation, Erynn and I immersed ourselves in a sabbatical period, making a conscious decision to be present, rather than looking back or forward, choosing a “path to another way of being”. On the odd occasion Erynn would show up with a hired wheelchair and push me around Bendigo Art Gallery, and Lake Weeroona where I could take photos and make sketches. Our relationship had formed a new bond, beyond that of mother and daughter and coworkers, to that of two friends with shared experiences united by their love of creating. With increasing mobility, an insatiable need for deep green and knowledge acquired from my early years as a garden landscape designer, we set about restoring my garden and creating, what I refer to as my leafy garden chapel.  It became a sanctuary constructed from various plant forms and established trees, where I spend many mornings in quietness as the sun shines through the acidic green leaves, like a stained-glass window.  Seeking further visual inspiration I found myself online watching people walking silently through landscapes, countryside and curated gardens.  I saw these environments through their eyes, using their legs not mine, collecting thousands of screenshots as I walked kilometres silently with strangers which became like a virtual pilgrimage back to myself.  

Stylistically things have shifted, but with that being said, I drag with me all of the work and influences of my past life; old habits die hard. I will always be a neo-baroque painter at heart where the love of theatricality, excess/OTT still remain. The very nature of baroque is malleability, with the ability to morph styles into its own unique language that I wish to display within this exhibit as my styles merge. The exhibition will be a selection of works in oils and mixed media on canvas and paper in various formats and sizes including large circular wooden panels depicting both traditional and contemporary portrayals of foliage/botanicals, landscape, and garden environments, framed in a contemporary style while others utilising the many vintage baroque and rococo style ornate frames I have collected over the years.  Included will also be a selection of Installations using collaged artificial turf, as a metaphor for my new bond formed with the landscape and a soundscape of our healing silence. From a curatorial perspective my work will be hung in a Salon style, aiming for a tight, immersive Baroque experience, a sea of green.

Through this proposed exhibition we invite the viewer, to walk along with us, albeit for a brief moment in the quiet of the gallery, possibly being able to use our story to speak to them, in a world that demands more and more or so eloquently phrased by Kai Seidenberg  “As a beacon of Peace and Presence to another way of Being” to appreciate their surroundings, to give themselves permission and The right to remain silent.


Erynn Trewartha-Lewicki


“You have the right to remain silent [...] As a beacon Of Peace and presence, Lighting of the path To another way of Being.” 

Siedenburg’s poem summarised the importance of the sabbatical to me. Led astray by only grandiose ideas of what success looks like, I had confused my worth with ambition. Constantly anxious and overwhelmed from the relentless chase for accolades that when adversity struck I fell hard. I had to pause for a while and alter my perspective. I spent many days with my Mother in the backroom producing art, talking and learning how to be patient with myself; to not wish my life away, to not continue the futile chase for external validation and to understand what it means to be present.

I too spent a long time away from my art practice, but in my hiatus I developed artistic skills in ways that I had not before - particularly in colour theory, tone and value. But what captured me was the still life artworks of both Georgio Morandi and Thornton Walker. I was taken by their contemporary portrayal of inanimate objects and spaces, that in all their simplicity they act as powerful metaphors for the both artist’s internal worlds. Inspired by this concept I found solace in drawing, photographing and painting inanimate objects and spaces, and began producing still lifes that forced me to slow down and reflect.

Forged by the stillness of our sabbatical, I have curated scenes that tell the story of my transformation into “another way of being,” using mediums such as paint, graphite, digital painting and photography. Recurring subjects will include ornate ceramics, broken pottery, musical instruments, certain botanicals and quiet spaces with chiaroscuro lighting to convey a certain mood.

One of the major lessons that I learned during my sabbatical was that my hardship was not necessarily felt in vain, but ultimately led to my change of perspective. I began looking further at philosophies that mirrored this concept and particularly took to the Japanese practice of Kintsugi, where broken pottery is mended with gold lacquer, showing beauty in its restored breakages. This concept resided within me as a symbol of acknowledging the bittersweetness of life, embracing the scars and honouring my healing journey as a part of the tapestry of becoming my authentic self. I learned to understand that sometimes to grow, one must embrace the bittersweetness that life throws at us. For me, coming to an abrupt pause (although painful) made me slow down and eventually appreciate the moments I often took for granted.

You will also see many references to the Violin throughout my part of the exhibition. I started playing in my twenties and it has been a friend to me since the moment I picked it up. The timing of the instrument was nothing short of perfect, as it came to me in a time of great uncertainty and has led to many impactful moments that have helped me escape the “ceaseless” noise of the world. Additionally, it serves as a metaphor for the necessity of slowing down and being present; the violin demands considerable patience, mindfulness, and introspection.