A Dedication to Lisa Bellear – Part Two
by Xen Nhà
Lisa Bellear (Minjungbul/Noonuccal/Kanak), Lisa in front of mural at La Trobe University, Sorry Day. Digitised colour photograph. Lisa Bellear Collection. Gift of John Stewart, 2012. Koorie Heritage Trust.
“I do not intend to speak about, just nearby”
– Trinh T. Minh-ha (Reassemblage 1982)
Lisa Bellear, a Minjungbul, Goernpil, Noonuccal and Kanak woman was an activist, photographer, poet, 3CR radio broadcaster, feminist, academic and performer. I am a Vietnamese (Miền Nam, Miền Trung) settler born and grown up around unceded Wurundjeri, Woi Wurrung and Boon Wurrung Country and I also spent my formative childhood years in Yuin Country. I come from a big Vietnamese family and my parents and their generation came here as refugees from the mid 80’s - early 90’s. It is my family who has inspired me to find joy, beauty and justice amidst life’s struggles. My creative practice spans across documentary, sound, community radio, poetry and zines. While I never had the honour to meet Lisa Bellear, her work and how she moved through her community has inspired and influenced my creative practice. In 2016, I interviewed Virginia Fraser, one of the curators of the ‘Close to You: The Lisa Bellear Picture Show’ exhibition, on Queering the Air and titled the episode, ‘A Dedication to Lisa Bellear’. For this, it is an honour to return to Lisa’s work and reflect on how it has shaped me and my practice.
In 2013 I joined 3CR Community Radio where I was a broadcaster on Queering the Air and Women on the Line up until 2019. Over my several years of broadcasting at 3CR, I had learnt about working alongside and with people from the Aboriginal community in Melbourne. It was here at 3CR where I was first introduced to Lisa’s work. Lisa had been a broadcaster at 3CR, where she hosted ‘Not Another Koorie Show’ and was a presenter for 3CR’s annual Beyond the Bars series. Across the radio station, Lisa’s name and work was always spoken about with great respect from both Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal staff and broadcasters. In 2016, I saw the ‘Close to You: The Lisa Bellear Picture Show’ exhibition at the Koorie Heritage Trust. The exhibition paid tribute to the life of Lisa Bellear and was curated by Lisa’s close friends, artists Destiny Deacon and Virginia Fraser and cousin, Kim Kruger.
In Lisa’s essay (featured in the Close to You exhibition catalogue), ‘Keep Fighting, Keep Speaking Out’ Lisa said that she ‘enjoys a good yarn and listening to what different people believe in, though I may not agree with all I hear. I am then able to share these meetings and stories with other people’. My time at 3CR was very much about this – meeting people from all experiences so that I could learn more about grassroots community-building and my own voice. Growing up there were many instances where raising my opinion among Vietnamese elders would be considered hỗn (rude) and the conversation would be shut down. 3CR helped me develop confidence in my voice and taught me how to cultivate strength and vulnerability in both speaking and listening. There was a level of intimacy and generosity about being in the studios at 3CR and I was always humbled and inspired by the process of interviewing people for community radio. Interviewing people on air wasn’t about giving ‘a voice to the voiceless’, a patronizing narrative that continues to cycle across media, publishing and even the arts. For me, interviewing on community radio was about creating a space of trust, care and respect for someone’s agency, authority and story. There has been a few times where I’ve had the honor of interviewing one of my queer cousins, Key, who is also my dear friend, on radio over the years. Working with my own family stories doesn’t mean that I have open access, rather I’ve found that in most cases the process requires a much more attentive ear. My practice of documentary involves listening, building friendships, not being afraid to ask questions, making mistakes and plenty of self-reflection. Through my work, I strive to practice closely with Trinh T. Minh-ha’s attempt to ‘speak nearby, rather than about’.
Trinh T. Minh-ha says that, ‘When you decide to speak nearby, rather than speak about, the first thing you need to do is...leave the space of representation open so that, although you’re very close to your subject, you’re also committed to not speaking on their behalf, in their place or on top of them.’ Speaking nearby, rather than about requires that an interval remains open between you and who you are speaking with. It asks that you step back from an assumed position of authority over another person’s story. In doing so, you free yourself from pursuing a fixed meaning about the other and there you begin to dismantle the hierarchies of knowledge. Easier in theory, more demanding its praxis. In Minh-ha’s film Reassemblage (1982) she looks at ways of ‘speaking nearby, rather than about’ the women of rural Senegal, where women are the focus but not the object of Trinh T. Minh-ha’s first film. Minh-ha critiques documentary filmmaking and the ethnographic field of recording, collecting and preserving cultures. The ethnographer or documentary filmmaker has the habit of imposing a meaning on every single sign. The ‘authentic’ contact is documented by capturing the lived reality of the other and then is assigned a meaning rendered as truth. ‘See, this is how it was’, claims the ethnographer or documentary filmmaker. This kind of mentality still drives a lot of documentary practices today. What is your film about? What are you writing about? How does one answer so as not to fall into the habit of imposing meaning on every single sign?
Since colonisation, Aboriginal people have been documented, photographed, filmed, researched, painted and etched by non-Aboriginal people. Lisa Bellear wrote about the problems of institutions and non-Aboriginal people documenting Aboriginal people. The colonial archive has been a site of grief, racism and insensitivity to those whom it has archived. The authentic contact with the lived reality or the first contact between white ethnographers and Aboriginal people, became a site where meaning could only be ‘truthful’ or ‘authentic’ through being observed, recorded and preserved. Historically this process would occur over a lengthy period where ethnographers would live with those whom they were studying, as if a testimony of time could give them enough meaning to understand a culture and its people. Dig through the archives at institutions, and even look at the archives that occasionally see the light in contemporary museums today, you will find many photographs of nameless Aboriginal people referred to as ‘Aboriginal woman wearing possum skin’ and ‘Aboriginal man wearing European clothes’.
In this process, there has been no consent from Aboriginal people to have their photos taken let alone be published in academic and historical papers, journals and newspapers. I use the word consent here to say that I believe anyone filming, photographing or recording someone has the responsibility to the people they are documenting. Lisa Bellear wrote about this responsibility and the need to follow cultural protocols through her photographic practice.
Lisa’s photo collection spans over 30,000 images, which Lisa’s family donated to the Koorie Heritage Trust after her passing in 2006. In the process of writing this piece I asked the Koorie Heritage Trust and Lisa’s family for permission to view the collection. Following cultural protocol was central to undertaking this research and building a respectful relationship with the Koorie Heritage Trust, Lisa Bellear and her family and the people in the photographs I have featured in this piece. For those new to the phrase ‘cultural protocol’, the Koorie Heritage Trust has a few resources on protocols for working with and sharing First Nations knowledge in the arts.
My understanding of cultural protocol is that it is a set culturally appropriate and respectful ways of engaging with Aboriginal communities, their knowledge and culture. There is no one size fits all set of cultural protocols, but there are some common ones that have been outlined by the resources on the Koorie Heritage’s website. For non-Aboriginal people, an Acknowledgement of Country is nowadays a protocol that is widely practiced. For this research, I’ve asked the Koorie Heritage Trust and Lisa Bellear’s family for permission to view and reproduce Lisa’s photographs. Additionally, there has been a process of asking permission from the people in the photograph and seeking advice from the Koorie Heritage Trust on what photos would be appropriate for this piece. In my guide through Lisa’s collection, there were many moments of ‘I remember his big smile’ and ‘we should be careful about sharing that photo outside the collection because that person has passed away’. Following cultural protocol is a duty of care and respect for Aboriginal sovereignty.
My mum has been the person in my family where I’ve had the most direct experience of learning about Vietnamese and Buddhist cultural customs. When we moved into our new house the first thing we did was offer fruits, flowers and light incense in the kitchen. She had also then asked us to put a bowl of salt in the corners of the house. I recently asked her why we did this and she replied, ‘we need to thank the ancestors and spirits that were here on this land’. A simple answer struck me so deeply. Despite our different experiences in upbringing and education, my mum translated to me something that was grounded in respect and care for the ancestors and the land where we live.
Lisa Bellear (Minjungbul/Noonuccal/Kanak), We All Need Laughter, 1997. Digitised collage. Lisa Bellear Collection. Gift of John Stewart, 2012. Koorie Heritage Trust.
Lisa intimately knew many of the people she photographed and had a set of protocols that was guided by respect, courtesy and responsibility. She was well known for printing duplicates of her work and handing out a copy to the people (or their friends and family) she photographed. Another protocol was, ‘Be willing to learn about Indigenous Australian cultural protocols and practice what is expected’. A comprehensive list of these protocols can be found in the ‘Close to You: The Lisa Bellear Picture Show’ exhibition catalogue.
While speaking with the Koorie Heritage Trust, Virgina Fraser and reading the many contributions from Lisa’s friends, family and community in the ‘Close to You’ exhibition catalogue, I had learnt that Lisa’s photographs are not just a document of the past — dormant in the archives. They are living memories that generate conversations and they have so much value because of the contributions of others. The launch of Warrior Woman Lane, named after Lisa Bellear, in 2018 and activated again this year for NAIDOC, is one example of how Lisa continues to be a strong spirit in people’s hearts. Virginia Fraser says, ‘[Lisa’s] enormous photo archive is the product of thousands of small acts of co-operation by everyone who stood still long enough for her to take their picture’. Lisa photographed friends, family, actors, academics and activists, both Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal. While researching for this piece, I learned that Lisa had photographed Vietnamese comedian Hung Le in her ‘I Keep You Close to Me’ series. 20 years ago Hung Le had co-authored a comedy play ‘Black and Tran’ with the late Mrs Lawfford-Woolf about the stereotypes of Aboriginal and Vietnamese cultures, cultural misunderstandings and what bridges people from these communities. Lisa would also photograph police, often inserting herself in the picture and posing next to them with a sense of humor. In the ‘Close to You’ catalogue, Lisa’s cousin, Kim Kruger, says that Lisa’s photos are a glimpse into ‘the world she loved and how she imagined the world to be...where you can be Blak and free, self-determination in action’.
My favourite photos of Lisa are these collages she made, which are very much in the spirit of dedications to a friend, family member or colleague. What I love about these collages is that I can see how much Lisa loved and cared for her friends, family and community.
Lisa’s photography, my family and friends and my time at 3CR has shaped my documentary practice. Working in the documentary space I have had the honor to meet and converse with many people from all walks of life. The responsibility I carry as an artist and documentary maker is, much like Lisa’s cultural protocols, guided by respect and courtesy with plenty of care and joy. When I first interviewed one of my queer cousins on radio there was a level of vulnerability that opened up between us and now whenever we catch up we always dive into conversations about our crushes, family and everything in-between. I have reverence for the ways that my cousins and I support and uplift each other, and I see these qualities in many of the people I’m surrounded by. The value of what I’ve documented through radio, photography and film over the years wouldn’t be what it is without the people and conversations that keep it alive. Lisa’s legacy continues to draw out conversations among the older and younger generations, Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal. I hope to do the same with the legacy I have inherited; a legacy that I am weaving with my own voice and the people around me.
Xen Nhà, queer cousinhood with Key, 2018, black and white 35mm
Xen Nhà would like to thank Lisa Bellear’s family and the Koorie Heritage Trust for allowing them to view and learn more about Lisa’s photography for this essay. They would also like to thank their own family for their loving support.
Xen Nhà is a documentary maker and artist based on unceded Kulin Lands, Melbourne Australia. They explore intimacy, vulnerability and power dynamics across bodies through narrative and conversations. Xen has produced radio documentaries and has run creative sound workshops locally and internationally. Recently, they were a Collaborative Studio Fellow at UnionDocs in New York City, where they were the Editor and Sound Designer for the short film flutters through skin. They are also the curator of Red Pocket Press: a DIY project for queer Asians honoring the Lunar New Year.
