Art in review by Tamsin Kemp
On a pristine Canberra Autumn day, I have come to the National Film and Sound Archive to witness the combined work of Leila Jeffreys—a photographer celebrated for her striking portraits of birds—and filmmaker Melvin J. Montalban. I am familiar with Jeffreys’ work but have never seen it up close and personal, and I know Montalban’s work via his music videos, his oeuvre including Boy & Bear, Jessica Mauboy, The Reubens and Something For Kate, to name but a few.
The work was first commissioned for VIVID in 2022 as an outdoor installation. Here, it is behind closed doors. I don’t know what to expect.
During this experience, I was fortunate to converse with Chris Mercer, Head of Programs and Place at the National Film and Sound Archive (NFSA), before meeting the art. As we walk through the installation’s familiar architecture, Mercer describes his vision for the future of the NFSA’s Canberra home in Acton’s cultural precinct.
Regarding Canberra’s institutions and our city’s potential to expand as a centre for creativity, imagination and design, Mercer says:
“At the heart of every great city is a rich tapestry of fine grain culture: the local gems, where people gather. It’s the hidden wine bar or gallery, your favourite restaurant, the best spot for a coffee or to spend a free afternoon.
“Great places intersect with built environments, creative programming, and community,” he continues. “That’s what it means to be a cultural and creative hub.”
Mercer describes the NFSA in Canberra as a public space where people should feel welcome to engage in their own way, at their own pace.
“We want people to understand the history of this place and to see their stories here,” he says.
I have always loved the building and am delighted to see it being lovingly restored. But there are other reasons I am here.
I am here to see Jeffreys and Montalban’s six-and-a-bit minutes of glorious footage in praise of birds. Our birds. Mercer succinctly describes it as:
“A captivating collaboration from these two highly acclaimed Australian artists that will mesmerise you with its moments of absolute beauty.”
Thus told, I am prepared to be mesmerised.
And is it captivating? Unequivocally. The scale is the perfect juxtaposition, stating how important and royal these birds are. Because they are huge. Not simply bigger than life size, bigger than us, much bigger. The exquisite detail of the film, the immediate strength of the bodies, and the billowing curves of feathers, like clouds of spreading ink, extend a compelling invitation.
Sit, be still, watch us. We are beautiful.
Leila Jeffreys said of this installation site: “There is something truly magical about experiencing the work indoors, at this scale, with a purpose-built reflective pool of water…
“Temple features cockatoos—birds we feel are ingrained in the Australian psyche. They move us to tears in the best possible way. We hope we have created an installation that stirs the human spirit, encourages quiet contemplation, and reminds us of our connection to a universe that all living beings are a part of.”
The birds—Galah, Sulphur-Crested Cockatoo, and the indisputable star of the piece, the Red-Tailed Black Cockatoo—demand your attention. They beckon you to stay, to immerse yourself in their beauty.
Filmed in a studio with fine mists of water enveloping them, their movements are captured in slow motion, making them appear extraordinary – every balletic movement, every beat of wings, resonates in the displacing of the water droplets.
The droplets themselves, on the stark black backdrop, are like stars – it’s like gazing at the very essence of the universe. With the intense colours of the high-definition film, the Black Cockatoo seems to embody fire itself, its luminous feathers dusted with embers. Ancient and powerful, it’s impossible to tear your eyes away.
A smile creeps onto my face; I’m almost moved to tears.
The piece has a score; the sparse, lyrical strings of composer Jackson Milas lend the birds a stirring soundtrack. The music is one reason it is easy to be seduced by the birds. They are not using their voices.
Some of us, especially here in Canberra, might have conflicting feelings about cockatoos – they can be, and often are, rambunctious, loud ratbags.
But we love them. They epitomise something of the larrikin Australians like to see in themselves; playful and intelligent.
And here, in this space, with their uncouth vernacular replaced with music, they are sublime.
Melvin J. Montalban says of his co-creation: “We create our work as places of gathering, often to meditate on the natural world and our place in it.”
The still pool of water below the screens adds to the meditative qualities of the space. The birds are reflected in it and, magically, appear as if drinking from it at times. It feels like a place for contemplation, for remembering.
I don’t want to go back outside.
But Mercer collects me, and we sit in the courtyard, listening to the water and the bees, and agree on how satisfying it is to experience a work that defies the sense of shallowness or disconnect often associated with immersion in digital spaces. We live in a world saturated with digital technology and images on repeat, where we look at content fleetingly, frequently swiping for the next thing before the present thing has even sunk in.
But here we are, sitting with a digital piece that holds and exudes a quiet, seductive power.
“It encourages people to have that moment of connection and continue to have that moment,” Mercer says. “[It’s] digital media reconnecting us to the natural world.”
Yet, there’s a sobering aspect to this work. With Red-Tailed Black Cockatoos, other species of Black Cockatoos, and multiple other species of native birds and animals in decline, vulnerable or endangered, it’s difficult to walk away with just the joy.
Let’s not ignore the sadness; let it spur us into action.
Look into the tenacious, primeval eyes of Jeffreys and Montalban’s marvellous subjects and tell me you aren’t moved. It’s our duty to protect and preserve their world.
They have been here forever; we are but guests.
Temple is on now at the National Film and Sound Archive Gallery, from 10am – 4pm daily until 30 June. Entry is free. For more information please visit the NFSA website.