Sarah Rodigari is currently working with the community of Ravensthorpe. This work forms part of one of Spaced’s current programs, Rural Utopias.

Sarah Rodigari is an artist whose practice addresses the social and political potential of art. Her work is site responsive, employing, durational live action, improvisation, and dialogical methodologies to produce text-based performance and installations.

Here, Sarah shares an update from Ravensthorpe.

After a two-year hiatus, I’ve return to the Shire of Ravensthorpe. Last time it was summer, January- February, pre-Covid 2021. I remember Simon, the local Grocer, telling me to stock up as soon as I return to Sydney. “This virus in China is serious” he said, one evening, effortlessly fishing off the pier.

It’s now winter and although I do seem to recall Ainsley, Creative Director of the Ravensthorpe Regional Arts Council, saying, “it’s cold here”, across a zoom meeting in the lead up to my arrival, my summer memory of pristine white beaches and clear blue oceans, waved her comment to the back of my mind. In my last-minute packing, I preferenced past over future and swimmers over sweater.  To recap: the Shire of Ravensthorpe is situated in the South-West of WA, between Esperance and Albany.  Common sense will tell you, that when looking at a map of so called, Australia, (which I didn’t) it is, as Ainsley has since also pointed out, further south than Sydney and therefore cold there, much colder than Sydney.

When I last visited, I took a melodic 6-hour Trans WA bus from Perth to Ravensthorpe. This time I took a panicked 6am ‘mine’ flight. I got up at 4am, to arrive at the airport by 5 for a compulsory RAT test prior to check in and departure. The rat test cost an extra $50 and is a prerequisite when flying to mines, not away from them. The nurse who administered my test was kind and very gentle. After 20 minutes my test came back negative, which came as no surprise since the swab barely tickled the rim of my nostrils. From here, dressed like Nicole Kidman in an 80’s Australis add, I manically shuffled my way through a herd of miners, in search of my airline – Skippers – with my huge and heavy bag.  The mine terminal is a large hanger out of which numerous charted flights operate to mine all over Western Australia. Nothing was sign posted. Despite my Burberry trench coat and brand new Akubra hat, I found it hard to feel confident and focused amidst a sea of testosterone in high vis workwear. Lost, I took off my hat and shook out my mullet, our common signifier. The sea of comradery parted, and, at the other end of the hall, I spotted my airline.

“The flight’s closed.” Said the surly flight attendant. They’d been calling (miss-pronouncing) my name over the loud-speaker for the last twenty minutes, she said. I composed myself, cool like ice, like Nicole, like the blue waters of Hopetoun on a hot summer’s day in 2021. 

“I’m so sorry”, “I’m new to all this”, crossing my fingers and hoping for the best. At 7am, through a low winters sky I touched down in chilly Ravensthorpe. By 8am over a mug of coffee Ainsley filled me in on everything that had and hadn’t changed.