Alex Seton: Refoulement

Between policy pitfalls and delicately carved marble, Alex Seton reflects on the human cost of Australia's asylum seeker policies.
Annie Murney
Published on September 29, 2014

Overview

In light of a new deal struck with Cambodia, the asylum seeker debate has flared up again. The lucky country has come under fire for deflecting responsibility and outsourcing solutions to countries with fragile economies and questionable human rights records.

Between media blackouts and reports of self-harm on Nauru, the plight of dispossessed and disenfranchised people has become one of the most pressing humanitarian issues of our time. Reaching for a quick fix, political rhetoric and three-word slogans seem to eclipse the fact that we are dealing with human beings. Alex Seton's Refoulement at Sullivan and Strumpf Gallery manages to peel back the layers, excavating the individual from the statistic and reflecting on positions of privilege.

The title takes its cue from the international legal principle of non-refoulement, which protects asylum seekers and refugees from being sent to any place where they have a well-founded fear of persecution. At the Adelaide Biennial earlier this year, Seton exhibited Someone died trying to have a life like mine, referencing the discovery of 28 life jackets washed up on the shore of Cocos Island in May, 2013.

In a similar turn, many of the sculptures featured in Refoulement are facts: a paddle, a life-jacket, a flimsy blow-up boat. Though ghostly in their appearance, they are chiselled from hard rock. By carving these cheap, expendable materials out of solid marble, Seton gestures towards an issue that won’t be willed away.

Dominating the lower level of the gallery is a large sculpture of inflatable palm trees. An image of kitschy Australiana, they are silhouetted by balmy orange lighting. Like a mirage or an unattainable final destination, the solemnity of the marble makes them appear like tropical tombstones. Seton also breaks the logic of the illusion by positioning them on sharp pieces of broken rock, which are actually the wreckage of the life jackets.

Technically speaking, Seton’s masterful handing of the form and rigorous attention to detail is compelling. From the slight wobble and subtle wrinkles of the inflatable palm trees to the taut fabric of the blow up boat, he manages to create momentary optical illusions. The confusion between hard and soft could be a metaphor for the way the issue plays out in ethical binaries.

There are multiple ways in which the marble can be interpreted, but above all, it is contemplative. While the phrase “cold indifference” comes to mind, this exhibition isn't overly moralising; there is a quiet beauty evoked by these sculptures. Seton queries the space between what is seen and unseen, injecting a dose of necessary humanity into an issue that is far from simple.

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