Q&A with the artists
Learn more about the exhibiting artists, their works, and their memories of Bernhard Sachs
Can you briefly introduce your work and why you chose it for the exhibition?
Su Baker:
I chose my work, Light and Dark, as a material and tonal tribute, referencing our contrasting temperaments and world views, but
also the mutual resonances.
Drasko Boljevic:
Pere Junier is part of a body of work titled ‘The Book of Fabulas & Scented Echoes’,
born in 2020, during COVID lock down. Bernhard wrote about these works for my exhibition at 45 Downstairs, which was belatedly held
in 2022:
‘The series presented in this show draw from a persistent and lively thematic threaded throughout [Drasko’s] practice, a rich Balkan folkloric imaging tradition, its contemporary analogue in popular culture and its humorous, affectionate and ironic perspective on so-called high art.
Bernhard didn’t get to see the show. I am glad I can share this piece in this exhibition celebrating his life, work, and influence.
Barb Bolt:
This portrait was formed from a distance, as Bernhard engaged in heated discourse over coffee at Blondies, Southbank. This is where
Bernhard “hung out”, and where people gathered in conversation. As always, he wore his long green army coat and sandals, his massive bald
head setting him apart from the crowd. This portrait reminded me of a portrait of St Gerome but, as Bernhard was a self-proclaimed
apostate, I had to forgo the sainthood and just called the painting The Apostate.
Godwin Bradbeer:
Bernhard and I shared a profoundly intense relationship with several conspicuous elements: drawing, figuration, grandeur of scale, a
preference for the monochromatic, and the severity of black and white. Bernhard was enigmatic and I would dare to say he had the
melancholia of an existentialist. He was mysterious and difficult to comprehend, but I suspect that he also found himself difficult and
elusive, because he contemplated both the darkness and the void. In this he was courageous. My drawing is not a portrait of Bernhard, but
it touches on the fleeting nihilism of one unsatisfied by distraction, decor and entertainment.
Jon Cattapan:
This piece has three drawings by me, not specifically about Bernhard’s sad demise, but with reference to mortality. Bernhard had a huge
fascination with skulls, as did I. Fuckin’ Smile by our student and friend Ben McKeown has been ‘mixed’ in as a collaboration-
this work by Ben hung in the office Bernhard and I shared for years at VCA. I always saw it as a portrait of Bernhard and his sardonic
ways.
Ben McKeown:
Jon Cattapan chose my work Fuckin’ smile to be included in 4 Moods (for BS). Both Bernhard and Jon loved the painting.
Bernhard thought it looked like him. And it does. Was Bernhard the inspiration behind Fuckin’ Smile? Perhaps.
Peter Daverington:
One day I came to Bernhard’s apartment and took a bunch of photos aiming to capture the man in a Rembrandt light. I did three paintings of
him. The best one I overworked and screwed it up, and it still bothers me. One is unfinished and then there is this portrait. The veins on
his head were intriguing. I showed him. He said he liked it. I painted it in New York. He had a few suggestions of course. He’ll always be
my mentor.
Chantal Faust:
O Bernhard first appeared in my exhibition Pear Shaped at West Space in 2006. The work engaged with Camus’ Absurdist
hero, Sisyphus, embodied here by a miniature plastic cowboy figurine. I scanned the cowboy on a flatbed and enlarged him to nearly
life-sized. The figure was then printed on a massive adhesive vinyl, covering the gallery’s rear wall. Surrounding him was a dusty brown
digital void, formed from smears left on the scanner’s glass and the machine’s interpretation of light filtering through a space meant for
capturing flat objects. The cowboy gazed upward at what seemed to be a moon: a fleshy, veiny, mildly angry presence. In reality, it was a
flatbed scan of the top of Bernhard’s head, displayed on a high-mounted lightbox. Nearby, a singing pot plant repeatedly chanted: "Pear-shaped,
pear-shaped. It’s all gone pear-shaped."
As for what came first, Bernhard or the moon, it was undoubtedly Bernhard. Willingly, generously, he inverted himself over the glass stage
of the flatbed so we could create this image. You can see the imprint of his touch—a moon within the moon.
Kate Just:
My work is a small machine sewn ‘quilt’ made of one of Bernhard’s black, button-up shirts, the type he wore almost every day (when not
wearing a black t shirt)! My work about Bernhard, which features his shirt, came about because I love how Bernhard always wore all black,
often with a leather jacket, or a leather hat, black sunglasses and black leather shoes (Birkenstock rounded clog shape). His clothes were a
second skin. Once in the studio he was dying his old t shirts with bleach and pigment, as part of an artwork. I took photos of him in the
studio and shared them with him. When I look after the work I made from his shirt, I feel Bernhard is still in the room.
Sean Loughrey:
“Voicing the archive… See You at Jimmy’s” is a work started during my time as a PhD candidate under Bernhard’s supervision. The
work depicts the image of a woman yelling into a megaphone, reminiscent of Russian constructivist Alexander Rodchenko’s renowned montage,
yet the actual image was appropriated from the popular television series “Glee” which I have never seen. Bernhard saw the image as studio
source material and was somewhat drawn to it, but it was too late to push the idea further. So, this exhibition seemed like the perfect
opportunity to revisit and develop the idea.
Victor Meertens:
In 2019 Bernhard said he liked the double transparency overlay I did which informed the street scene of ladders & workers. The A4
amalgam was stained from studio use, with an ugliness more suited to his aesthetic. I couldn’t locate the overlay, so I chose this
work as a tribute to Bernhard’s history of printmaking, love of (Joseph) Beuys, and German Expressionism... The black is bitumen &
always resonates with me….as Bernhard.
Bill Sampson:
I have selected my most recent work for this exhibition and it is still new to me. I worry what Bernhard would make of it. But I am still
making ‘propositions’, looking for a new way of seeing, a new language of the line - thank you Bernhard.
Ben Sibley:
Precious Archive is a charcoal work. Charcoal, particularly compressed charcoal, is my
primary medium of choice, as I believe it was the case for Bernhard. He was my supervisor during a Master’s Degree at the Victorian College
of the Arts (VCA) 2017-18. Over that two year period we had many in depth discussions about the power of this medium. It is the drawing
material that most lends itself to immediacy, gesture and graphic intensity. It is also a medium suitable to the delivery of nuance and
subtlety; philosophical or political propositions can be revealed, blurred, or obfuscated through multiple layers of suggestion. Charcoal
is an extremely base and primal material; elemental, pure, malleable. Charcoal is dark and quiet; it can embody a sense of time and history
- images can be buried in blackness or erased away leaving only fugitive traces.
How did you meet Bernhard and what was your relationship with him?
Su Baker:
I met Bernhard properly in 2000, when I took up the job of Head of the VCA art school. But we had both been in Perspecta at the
Art Gallery of New South Wales in 1989 and met briefly then. Our work had similar baroque sensibilities, albeit with a different emphasis,
mine being saturated with colour, and his with a rich and an existential darkness.
Drasko Boljevic:
I met Bernhard at the Victorian Collage of the Arts when I was completing my Masters of Contemporary Art in 2011-2012, he was my
supervisor. We clicked and developed a great relationship in art school, which continued for years to come. Laughter over coffee was our
glue.
Barb Bolt:
I was a colleague and, and, latterly, a dear friend and fellow reader of Heidegger. We shared an office together, and many ideas.
Godwin Bradbeer:
For much of the 1980's I had a studio in Smith Street, Collingwood and I saw Bernhard’s work at several venues nearby, including
Reconnaissance Gallery in Fitzroy. Later in the 80's, I taught drawing and painting at the VCA, and I met Bernhard, who was also working
there. I believe Lewis Miller introduced us. There was some commonality in the room.
Jon Cattapan:
I met Bernhard in 1986, when a girlfriend at the time had her palm read by his wife, Helene. We had both known each other’s work very well
but had never actually met. I remember we did this hilarious, immediate summation of each other. The territorial dance of creative
predilections! In some ways we did that elliptical love/hate dance around each other for the rest of our long friendship.
Peter Daverington:
I first met Bernard when I returned to the VCA as a mature aged student in 2004. He was my supervisor. Intense man. Formidable mind. We
became friends, eventually. One of my great joys in life was drinking wine and talking art with him over long evenings in St Kilda. Dogs'
Bar featured a lot. As a painter, I think he enjoyed talking with me on technical matters like glazing. He was always a wry step ahead in
conversation, and immensely enjoyable company. He has left a profound mark on me, one which I’m still ingesting.
Raafat Ishak:
I wasn’t taught by Bernhard, but many close friends were, and it is telling that those who have found success and recognition in the
artworld are the ones that speak very highly of his teaching and his support. I did teach with Bernhard though. He was the first person to
give me a job teaching and I can say that my teaching methods are based on his. He taught me to teach.
Kate Just:
Bernhard was Head of the Master of Contemporary Art (MCA) when I joined the teaching team at VCA in 2011. He was a generous,
non-hierarchical leader, and he mentored me into my own forms of leadership at the university. When Bernhard was appointed to lead the PhD
program, I became the head of the MCA. He was always very supportive of me and appreciated and valued everyone - the staff and students who
worked with him. We had studios together at Veg Out and Vale Street studios in St Kilda, so also saw each other almost every day we weren’t
at work. Bernhard was on the other side of the wall from me in both spaces, so we would talk in the morning and sometimes over coffee and
lunch. At VCA we talked about work. But in the studios, we talked about art and life.
Sean Loughrey:
Bernhard was a friend, colleague and mentor. We met at the VCA during the mid 1980s, and then I worked there as a technician in the Drawing
Department in the 90s. We used to go to the Dogs Bar or Jimmy Watsons and dissect art, politics, philosophy, and cinema, not always in that
order. We were later both part of Ocular Lab Inc., an artist run space instigated by Raaf (ishak), Alex (Rizkalla) and Julie (Davies). When
contemplating a PhD at the VCA, I asked Bernhard to be my principal supervisor, his razor-sharp intellect and critical rigour were worth
their weight in gold. I frustrated him with my writing, but we made the most of the artmaking. Anyway, I passed, and he was happy. We kept
in contact. I became less inclined to make trips into Melbourne, so we spoke on the phone a lot, pretty much up until the end. But I did
make it in (to see him before he passed).
Ben McKeown:
Bernhard and I met at the VCA. At one point we where neighbours, living next door to each other in St Kilda where we spent many hours,
either at the Dogs Bar or The Banff, discussing art, life, and rational thinking over a vino. Bernhard and I both hailed from South
Australia, and that fact often popped up in conversation (along with his distaste for his home state).
Victor Meertens:
Bernhard & I met at VCA in 1984, both of us doing first year postgrad studies. We used to see
each other out and about in Balaclava during the late 80s, as it was our shared hood. Inevitably, film/sound passions, and the mix
tapes/cds of Critical Mass, Eastern European classical music (Penderecki/Dumitrescu/Radulescu), and of course, Tarkovsky soundtracks
featuring DIY folie dubbed from TV (cue water drops in culvert with leaky ceiling). And a healthy respect for each other’s commitment to
art.
Bill Sampson:
I felt I had been metaphorically ‘pithed’ in Bernhard’s 1st year tutorials. But I learnt a great deal from them, and from other, very
well-attended, lunchtime lectures he ran in his own time - not part of any curriculum other than his own. Bernhard became my firm friend
with many a late night out in Acland Street. Later, we were colleagues at the VCA, when I started tutoring in Critical and Theoretical
Studies - thank you Bernhard.
Ben Sibley:
Bernhard was my Master’s supervisor at VCA. He interviewed me - took a punt on me - and helped me believe that I had something to
give. We stayed in contact after I completed my studies. We would meet up in St Kilda at a favourite cafe or bar and hold spirited
conversations over glasses of wine and antipasto. He was a great mentor and friend.
Brie Trenerry + Kieran Boland (KBT)
Brie:
I met Bernhard in 2006 whilst working at VCA and we quickly became friends - largely due to a shared interest in Pier Paulo Pasolini’s
oeuvre, Danish police procedurals, art, philosophy, and politics discussed over many a long lunch of ‘pig’ and Sangiovese. I miss my dear
friend and generous mentor - gentle, kind, challenging & rigorous.
Kieran:
I first encountered Bernhard in 1995 as a post graduate student, but only came to know him l after I had left VCA. I recall him dropping in
to see a student he was supervising in the studio next to mine, but he was absent. On his return, another student said “Nietzsche was
looking for you.”
Do you have a memory of Bernhard that says something about who he was, or how he informed your practice?
Su Baker:
Bernhard had a great uncompromising commitment to making work, the histories and critical language of art, and a deep faith in its value.
He was great to talk to about painting and it was always like arriving at an oasis for me, quenching a thirst for immersion in painting's
arcane qualities that he and I shared. We also had many big nights out on the town around Melbourne bars! I was also trying to finish
my PhD thesis and those nights with Bernhard, Edward Colless, Chantal Faust, and others were my unofficial supervision sessions! I was
lucky to survive!!
Drasko Boljevic:
At the beginning of the pandemic, when wearing a mask became mandated, I caught up with him. I was wearing a black mask made by a friend,
while he was wearing a standard blue one. He asked me to order some black masks for him claiming, in true Bernhard. style, ‘I need to
retain some dignity’.
Barb Bolt:
Most know Bernhard as a drawer and painter. He also had the most amazing library, read philosophy widely and deeply, and was the most
generous of interlocutors. Such a memorable man.
Godwin Bradbeer:
I observed that Bernhard's panoramic drawings often had a divergent compositional complexity, whereas my similarly large works had a
convergent centralised compositional symmetry. On the basis of these dissimilar qualities, we discussed a collaboration, in which we each
make a vast work, his, with a void central space, and I make a work with a central icon within a void space. The intention being to swap
the works and fill the void within each other's work. We referred back to the idea over the years, but neither fulfilled, or initiated, the
project.
Jon Cattapan:
In 1993 I had a solo show at the old Australian Centre for Contemporary Art (ACCA), in the (Botanic) gardens. The post-exhibition dinner
was held at the Botanical Hotel, a well-known art haunt. After everyone had left, Bernhard and I continued drinking late into the night.
After far too many scotches (Bernhard never drank beer), he abruptly rose, fixed me with those intense blue eyes of his and in a perfect
impersonation of Rutger Hauer (in Bladerunner, 1982), said darkly… ‘Time to die’, before sauntering off alone into the night.
Raafat Ishak:
Bernhard was an important and underappreciated Australian artist who delved into relevant European histories and philosophies with rigour
and discipline. Unfashionable, dark, materially difficult and challenging and in that way exposes the vacuity of Australian art tastes. As a
person, Bernhard was incredibly funny, naughty, dark yet serious, caring, and empathetic.
Kate Just:
I liked hearing his voice, his cough, his laugh, from the other side of the studio wall. I liked the way he made slow time for everything:
for coffee, for conversation, for reading, for art. He was never in a ‘rush’ and imbued the spaces he was in with that same presence and
grounded-ness. I miss him.
Sean Loughrey:
I was taken aback once when he called me “dude”, he blamed his inexcusable use of language on current student infiltration. Another
recollection relates to when Trump got in to power for the first time. Bernhard, in a flippant moment of positivity, declared that as
artists we always needed some form of political aggression in the world, otherwise we would have nothing to make art about. Finally,
“There are only two types of people in the Melbourne artworld, those who know Damiano Bertoli, and those that don’t.” Bernhard repeated
this “observation” in a speech delivered at Damiano’s memorial (in 2021).
Ben McKeown:
He was a friend and mentor, who always asked after my partner Rondon, and always was up for one last snifter after work.
Bill Sampson:
In a group tutorial, we would be looking at work by one of us on the wall, and Bernhard would say ‘Well what’s going on here then?’ Hence
the title of my work. Very long silences followed, but sooner or later he’d come to me, the belligerent (though sometimes cowering)
mature-age student, and ask me. And it is through this, not wanting to have nothing to say, and our far-reaching philosophical discussions,
that I learnt to observe carefully, critique and practice in a meaningful way - or at least meaningful to me.
Ben Sibley:
Bernhard and I maintained an often intense, philosophical dialogue during my time at VCA. At one point in the first year, he
totally dismantled me - purposely shook up my perspective - not in a cruel way – but it was certainly destabilising. He proposed questions
and concepts I couldn't answer. It was a raw confrontation - it tested me, made me address the fundamental elements of my practice.
But Bernhard was also gracious enough to guide me out of this zone and help me discover new ways of thinking about art. He never
directly told me what to do - his advice was always rather cryptic. He alerted me to multiple signs and references, mostly in a heady
language I couldn't understand at the time. Years later, I am still decoding his words. We talked a lot about density.
Brie Trenerry + Kieran Boland (KBT)
Kieran:
I recall a lovely winter night with Bernhard and Brie at the Wolf’s Lair in Carlton, where he ate pig for dinner. Brie brought Bernhard
into RMIT a few times where I was working with 3D scanning, which at the time was a new thing. I scanned a lot of people, but Bernhard’s
response to the process of flashing white light was like no one else, he would enter a zen-like, meditative state which he eloquently spoke
and wrote about. In gathering together the residual point cloud of this experience from an old hard drive to create our print, it almost
felt like the meditative experience Brie and I witnessed had become a form of teleportation.