I had planned to post on this beautifully produced book, The voice of water, earlier in the year, but the events of the year threw me completely off track, and here I am at the end scrambling to finish off the posts I planned oh so many months ago.
Created by Tasmanians, visual artist Sue Lovegrove and poet Adrienne Eberhard (who has appeared here before), The voice of water was described by Hobart’s Fuller’s bookshop in their book launch announcement, as “a collection of 30 miniature paintings and poems which celebrate and pay homage to the beauty and ephemeral life of wetlands”. This is a good description of the content, but it doesn’t describe its exquisite production. You can tell that this book was a labour of love by two people who have both a passion for the Tasmanian landscape and an eye for beauty and design.
In their brief introduction, Lovegrove and Eberhard describe their aim as being “to reveal the fragility and fleeting nature of life in a lagoon”, to capture “the constantly shifting light”, “the soundtrack of place from frog call and scratching index legs to the tapping of grasses”, and “the calligraphy of reeds and sedges”. Not surprisingly, they also note the threat to wetlands posed by climate change. They name the wetlands that inspired them, and describe their process:
We spent days simply sitting together or apart, amongst the banksias and tea-trees at the edges, or lying in the sedges and reeds, letting these places seep into our imagination. We waded through ponds and swamps, working side-by-side, drawing and writing, and we had many conversations.
Interestingly, there was an exhibition of Sue Lovegrove’s miniatures at my favourite local gallery, Beaver Galleries, so you can see some (if not all) of the images on their website. The images are beautiful, some having an almost Monet-esque impression of light and water, others being a little more representational, particularly of reeds and sedge. (The original images are watercolour and gouache on paper.) One gorgeous miniature pair features a pond of deep blue with overhead clouds reflected in it. Eberhard’s miniature poem is (without her spacing though I tried):
where clouds mop
and soak tumbrils
of luminous blue
The words “enamelled” and “luminous” capture the colours perfectly. Other poems convey different watery effects, such as “like textured silk like ruched folds of material”.
Another miniature pair features rows of reeds or grasses in a pond. The accompanying poem is presented on the facing landscape page in portrait mode so that it looks like spikes of grass too. So much attention has been paid to the design, and how design can help convey meaning as much as the works themselves – representing, for example, “the calligraphy of reeds and sedges”. Another poem is arranged in offset columns to encourage us, or so it seems to me, to read the lines in different orders – down one column and then the other, or leaping across the columns – producing slightly different meanings or effects depending on the order.
I’ll share just one more poem, which exemplifies the attention they also paid to the “soundtrack” of the landscape:
jostle of noise a cacophonous counterpoint to the artist’s mark-making scribble and scratch
castanet-clack the scratching of insect legs
ratcheting and tightening an orchestration that ricochets
and rasps phonetics of frog call an infiltration a metronome’s sustaining heartbeat.
The book chronicles the water cycle in the lagoons, the water coming and receding at different times – “lagoon shrinks to water lines washing through reeds” – but this is not a polemical book about climate change. Rather, it is a hymn to what we have now. At least, that’s how I read it.
However you read it though, The voice of water is a gorgeous book to get lost in and carried away by, and I’m sorry I didn’t write it up earlier in the year.
PS I have tagged this “Nature writing”, which reminded me that I have just received advice that submissions are now open for the 6th biennial Natural Conservancy Nature Writing Prize (about which I have written here before). It’s an essay prize, and is worth $7,500 for the winner. This year’s judges are literary critic, Geordie Williamson, and Miles Franklin Award winning novelist, Tara June Winch. Being selected by them would be quite a feather in the cap, I reckon. For more information check the website.
Sue Lovegrove and Adrienne Eberhard
The voice of water
Published in 2019 with assistance from an Australia Council for the Arts grant
10 thoughts on “Sue Lovegrove and Adrienne Eberhard, The voice of water (#BookReview)”
The alliteration is wonderful in that quote that you chose for the way it reflects the sounds of a place. It also has great consonance with that T sounds in the last several words! Thanks for sharing this, Sue. I do love some good creative nature writing.
Thanks Melanie … so glad you enjoyed this post. It’s a hard book to do justice to given half of it is paintings, and you really have to see them to appreciate the whole.
Oh wow! What a gorgeous book this must be given the images on the website you linked to! Love the poems too.
I’m so glad you looked at the link and the pics, Stefanie. They are gorgeous. I particularly love the grasses and sedge ones because, I think, I love line in art. This is the sort of book you would like but of course it’s never likely to be seen in your neck of the woods.
This is truly a wonderful book. The art is breathtaking. I love the nature writing/art that has seemed so prevalent during the time of this pandemic. 🐧🎄
I should have known you knew it Pam. It is lovely isn’t it?
You’ve certainly found a book with a great sense of place. The paintings remind me, a bit anyway, of the work of Indigenous Yinjaa-Barni (Roebourne WA) artist Marlene Harold
I’ll check out the work Bill, thanks.
I’m pleased you enjoyed the book, Sue. Adrienne and Sue are both wonderful at their respective art forms.
Thanks Ian – for the book and the comment! They certainly are.