Katie West
artist, Yindjibarndi woman
Artist Katie West. Photo: Pippa Samaya
Interview by Peter Salhani | Photography by pippa samaya, Andrew Curtis, Juluwarlu Aboriginal Corporation
An artist walking in two worlds, Katie West belongs to the Yindjibarndi people of the Pilbara tablelands in Western Australia. Her breakthrough commission, Decolonist, came as recently as 2016, and already her work has been exhibited in most Australian capital cities and the Netherlands. She talks here about reconnecting to Country, finding her voice and helping young girls find their way into culture through art.
Where do you live and why?
I live in York, WA just outside of Perth with my partner [composer/musician Simon Charles]. We moved here a little bit by accident. We wanted to be in Country but still be close to Perth. We’ve found a small creative community here.
What is your heritage?
I’m Yindjibarndi through my mother. It took me a bit of time to comfortably identify as Yindjibarndi because mum was part of the Stolen Generations, and adopted out in the 1960s. We grew up just north of Perth. A long way from Country (the Pilbara tablelands) and my Nanna and the family there. In 2017 I was invited up to Roebourne for a residency, so I was able to spend time with Yindjibarndi and reconnect.
Collecting wildflowers, 2017. Photo: Juluwarlu Aboriginal Corporation
What was that experience like?
It was full on, and amazing. Just meeting so many people that you’re connected to — sisters, nanas and uncles – there’s a lot to unravel. There’s a lot of sadness too because I didn’t know things I feel I should. But overall it felt really good, because the connections have been made now, and it’s an ongoing relationship to keep rebuilding.
Did you share this experience with your mum?
No, she passed away in 2011. So it’s really been up to me to make that connection again. I have many brothers and sisters – all younger than me.
Botanical palette from Katie West’s 2017 Nyinart Yinda Artist Residency. Photo: Juluwarlu Aboriginal Corporation
How did you get into textile art?
I think of myself as an artist, not just a textile artist, though that is something that’s always been present. When I was starting out, I collected things old tablecloths and doilies and did silk screen prints on them. Then when I was working towards the Next Wave Festival in 2016, creating the work Decolonist, I was thinking a lot about connection to place.
“Materials in the gallery needed to be somehow infused with Country.”
It came to a point where materials in the gallery needed to be somehow infused with Country, so that’s where the natural dying came into it. It was actually something that had been in the back of my mind for a while. Many years ago my Nan gave me a book by [‘botanical alchemist’] India Flint, so it had been floating around in my thinking, until it became relevant in Decolonist.
Botanical palette from her 2017 Nyinart Yinda Artist Residency. Photo: Juluwarlu Aboriginal Corporation
What’s your process with the fabrics?
The natural dying practice became more defined for me after the residency in Roebourne. I came away wondering how I could do practical things to relearn my heritage or language, or to practice a way of being in the world that’s a bit more in tune with the seasons. So, the hot-water dying is something that’s done in cooler times when it’s safe to have a fire. The solar dying is done when it's hot and you don't want to have a fire. That's the theory. It still feels like it’s growing for me.
Hot water fabric dying at the Nyinart Yinda Artist Residency, 2017. Photo: Juluwarlu Aboriginal Corporation
Does this help you reconnect to Country?
Yes. The process now has that story for me, of reconnecting to Country. But it's also about how I maintain that when I’m away from Country, and living on other people’s Country too. It’s also about my need to be physically touching the earth, understanding my body as a part of Yindjibarndi Country. The work becomes apart of that thread.
How would you describe your Country?
Huge sky. Red dirt. And spinifex. The Pilbara can feel very harsh during the day, but as the sun goes down it becomes this soft pink and orange place. There are lots of rocks that dominate. After the rain you get these delicate wildflowers in blues, purples and yellows. It’s such a contrast of experiences.
Botanical palette from her 2017 Nyinart Yinda Artist Residency. Photo: Juluwarlu Aboriginal Corporation
“It’s also about my need to be physically touching the earth.”
Do you take risks?
Every exhibition feels like a risk. Every time I write an artist’s statement, sharing how I’m doing my work, it feels like a risk.
Where does that articulate voice come from?
The people who raised me, my adoptive grandmother and a very dear family friend, Kay, are very smart women who were always reading and encouraging good conversation. And they challenged my thinking as well. So growing up, I felt that I wasn’t treated like a kid.
“Taking control of our stories. Forming a nourishing and joyful narrative.”
Your game-changing moment?
Definitely Decolonist. That was the first big festival I’d been part of (Next Wave), my first solo exhibition. And also the first time I really shared the way I think about the world in public. Part of that experience was writing small opinion pieces for Indigenous X and The Guardian. So I was putting myself out there, which was pretty scary. Particularly for where I feel I come from, speaking in that way was not really allowed.
Katie West textiles infused with Country for her 2019 exhibition, Clearing, at TarraWarra Museum of Art, Healesville, Victoria. Photo: Andrew Curtis
Did that empower you?
Yes, it did. I was surprised to be so supported in what I was saying. From friends especially, for sharing so much of my personal story.
What drives you?
Family is a huge thing. That’s not just about my immediate family, it’s extended kin, past and future generations. Taking control of our stories. Forming a nourishing and joyful narrative. It sounds big, and it is. But then it’s simple too.
From Katie West’s 2019 exhibition Clearing, at TarraWarra Museum of Art, Healesville, Victoria. Photo: Andrew Curtis
How do you achieve your goals?
I can be a bit of a stress-head, so I have to really maintain balance. Making time for nice walks, and reading, so that in those times when I’m not working, I really check out of work and focus on the normal everyday stuff. Once you do that, the work is easy and fun again.
Hardest lesson learnt?
In general with work, if something isn’t working, then it’s probably not right for you in some way. I’ve had a few instances where I was really pushing, or thinking I should be going for a particular thing, when actually it’s not the direction I was meant to be going. I feel like it’s been slow to come, but I’m actually getting better at pinpointing it. It’s a bodily thing, like a feeling of tension in my back or neck, or my body isn’t matching the task with the energy that’s needed.
From Katie West’s 2019 exhibition Clearing, at TarraWarra Museum of Art, Healesville, Victoria. Photo: Andrew Curtis
How do you push through difficulties?
I try and remind myself of the bigger picture, and to take perspective, by asking: ‘what is this project or task in relation to other things that are going on?’. Or ‘how is that important compared to family and everyday life or other projects I’m doing.’ Looking at the whole field.
Your biggest challenge?
I can get too caught up with the big picture! Over the past few weeks with the Black Lives Matter movement becoming a global thing, that’s been playing on my mind a bit. With upcoming projects, it’s been causing me to think how will my work fit within that bigger picture. It’s a global outlook but also bringing that back to the little communities I am working in, the little bit of youth work I do and the exhibitions I’m working on.
“I try and remind myself of the bigger picture.”
Is youth work important to you?
Yes it is. It’s taken a while to get to, from studying at Masters level a few years ago. In that space, it’s easy to focus on the individual, professional endeavour. But part of moving back to WA has been to reconnect with communities that are important to me. And I also remember how important being creative was to me as a younger person.
I also remember how important being creative was to me as a younger person.
Katie West. Photo: Pippa Samaya
Did you always want to be an artist?
Yes, always. In primary school we made a time capsule and had to write down what we wanted to become. I wrote ‘artist’. I think I knew. But being an artist isn’t straightforward in our society. That’s another thing that needs work.
“The other thing is more art in schools, using art as a way of learning.”
What other changes would you like to see?
My mind goes to education, and there are two streams to how I’m thinking about that. One is independent, Indigenous-run schools so that mobs can be teaching their own language and culture every day. The other thing is more art in schools, using art as a way of learning and researching from the get-go. I know from experience how studying art helped me understand my own potential in a tertiary setting. I think it’s great to start out in TAFE or university and from there go on to other things. That’s what annoys me about the government approach at the moment – there are so many people in Australia who would find going to university daunting, but things like art can be a step into that space.
Katie West. Photo: Pippa Samaya
your Next big project?
I can’t say exactly what these next projects are for, but I have the opportunity to spend some time in the Pilbara in Roebourne with Yindjibarndi later this year. So I’m really looking forward to spending time there, and learning more on a personal level. And seeing where that experience takes my work.
