2. Playground Politics
Unpacking the politics of place in Australia’s playground with Rebecca Ross
Posted: Mon 8 Sep, 2025
Location: Rebecca’s studio
Rebecca and I meet in her studio (almost 12 months ago now), with the light scratch of Ginny’s paws echoing on the floorboards above. Together we revisit her memories of THE WALLS; the experimental (and very influential) artspace that she led for nine years in Miami, on the Gold Coast. We then turn to her art practice and recent work, speaking about the importance of folly, double meanings and keeping things “up in the air”.
Rebecca Ross is a visual artist based on Kombumerri Country, on Queensland’s Southern Gold Coast, whose practice navigates the junctures of site, situation and sensation. Her work, which she describes as ‘exercises in mapping’, combines found maps and video, text, photography, collage, mixed media and installation. Her most recent work is concerned with geopolitics and notions of transcendence. Rebecca’s expanded mapping practice includes recreational planespotting and surfing; she is part of the international ADB-S flight tracking network and a founder and member of the Artist Boardriders Club. In 2012 Rebecca was awarded the Rome Studio at the British School at Rome by the Australia Council for the Arts to research the Galleria delle carte geografiche (Gallery of Maps) located in Vatican City.
Read more on her website..
K: All right Rebecca, let's start with The Walls. You've probably told this story many times before, how The Walls started…
R: Oh yes, but I'm fond of it. So, I came back to the Gold Coast after being in Italy, at the British School at Rome.
I’d been in Brisbane for over a decade before Italy and I had decided that when I returned I’d move back to the Gold Coast and find a studio. I was fortunate enough to have a contact - Mariam Marcilla - who at the time was working on a project, which we now know as Miami Marketta. But the predecessor to that was Rabbit and Cocoon.
Rabbit and Cocoon was a studio precinct where Marketta is now. All the sheds were artist studios and there were a bunch of us there who connected. Tristan Schultz, that’s where I first met him. And Lisa from White Rabbit Theatre in the studio opposite me, was teaching theatre. And a bunch of other local artists, a couple I think are still there. I had the studio in the front of our block of four studios. I'm going to dig up a photo for you because I found it recently…
K: Oo yes please…
K: Oh, so when I was looking through the photos for The Walls closing, for Love letters to Miami, those photos of the walls and alleyways were actually Marketta?
R: Yeah, yeah! That’s Marketta.
K: Ohhh, cause I remember seeing that, it was in, like a little alleyway…
R: Yeah, so my studio there was not unlike here [Rebecca’s home studio]; you’ve got a front door, roller door, studio, and a sink at the end. I said to my fellow studio people, ‘I’m going to put a curtain up’. It was literally a white curtain, a bucket of paint, and $100, that was it, The Walls was born. And the first show was David David; David Creed and David Spooner. They were doing these incredible split portraits. They were friends of mine, working in Brisbane at the time, and I really loved their work.
R: Then we did shows with Anna Carey and Paul Wrigley, and a show with Dylan Quirk who were all Gold Coast-based at the time. And then, The Walls got smoked out by a kebab stand at the Marketta. I came in one night, I had art on the walls and the space was full of kebab smoke. And I realised it was not going to work.
Art at a food market, people wanting to touch things; it just wasn’t a viable proposition. Dylan and I had some conversations and he suggested trying to take this shed up the road, still in Miami. And we just did it really. Didn’t have any money to build walls or anything. It was such a short time frame, taking risks without thinking about it too much. But I’d written an Arts Queensland grant for The Walls…
K: For the first iteration, in the Marketta space?
R: Yes, I’d written a grant and then I got it! With the Arts Queensland grant we could afford to build some actual walls. It was literally ‘blood, sweat and beers’ that summer to build it, mates on Christmas holidays, coming and building walls and the mezzanine in the high summer heat. That’s how the Mountainview space got started.
K: Wow! So that was in 20…?
R: I think we had the first show in the new space at the beginning of 2014. It was a show that David Creed was also in. It was the Wandering Room Artist Run Initiative (ARI), and another ARI from New Zealand, JJ Morgan and Co. I had befriended Justin Jade Morgan after he’d invited me to New Zealand to do a residency. Then I think somehow Wandering Room got connected with him, and then we all reconnected and did this group ARI show that launched with a trans-Tasman table tennis game over Skype.
R: Yes, the funny thing was, that mechanic that was next door… it was their shed, they gave it up and we moved in. And then after we closed and moved out, they moved back in. Like we never existed! It’s so Gold Coast, it just evaporated, another erasure in the landscape.
K: I went to The Farm recently and saw the mechanics open in the old space! It’s like it never happened. But, of course it did. And that’s the whole point of this project is to write this stuff down, to record these stories.
I looked at The Walls’ website this morning, and noticed you’ve got so many fun names for the events you ran; the Summer Retreat, Sunday School, Wild Walls, Banana Sundays… actually, I don’t know what that one was…
R: Yeah we used to have a combination of art, performance, music; fun get togethers. I think my thing about the Gold Coast always was, this is an opportunity. We are branded as “Australia’s Playground”. We can have fun, but it’s got to be seriously fun, you know? There has to be a sense of rigour in the fun. There’s nothing wrong with that. We need to be part of that conversation. The issue I have with a lot of what happens on the Gold Coast is, trying to not be the Gold Coast.
K: Yes, not leaning in…
R: Yeah, just be the Gold Coast. Even with The Walls logo, the black and white, straight Helvetica. Here on the coast we have all this visual information; signs along the Gold Coast highway, our heritage of neon signs. And we were counter to that. We’re not trying to sell you anything, and by doing that, actually we are selling you something; contemporary art. It was a way of being subversive.
K: I noticed a similar point when I listened to that John Stafford interview, it’s so good,…
[Airplane flies over…]
K: Oh we’ll do the pause...
R: Oh sorry, “Tugun Pause”...
[Airplane flies over…]
K: …and when John is trying to understand your vision for the space, you describe exactly that. How at The Walls you always had a spare towel ready. So people could come down to the Gold Coast for the day, go to The Walls, see some art, pick up a towel, then go down to the beach for a swim. You were saying, ‘No, this is us. This is exactly what we’re about. This is the Gold Coast and this is how we do it.’
K: Yes, completely. That’s sort of what you were saying in the interview, that you were having national artists coming to this space and wanting to exhibit there. You’re saying ‘You can have both!’ These two ideas, contemporary art and beach culture, aren’t as different as the art world might think.
R: No that’s right. And I mean, you can do anything, you just have to do it well. You have to be consistent, and find people that share your vision, and the vision needs to be really clear.
But the other thing is, I couldn’t do what I did here, had I not done what I did in Brisbane. I studied art, I learnt to operate with a level of rigour, and I had friends and networks that became part of an important conversation that The Walls had to have here. And that supported other artists to be part of that conversation.
Artists like Clark Beaumont; they’d just done 13 rooms with Marina Abramovic. And then came to do a show at The Walls. During that show Art Monthly called, and asked for more photos, because they wanted to put the show we’d just done at The Walls on their front cover. And I was like, ‘Okay, we've made it!’ I don't know if I've told you that story, but the editor rang and said, ‘Hi, Rebecca. We're running a story about the show at The Walls, Clark Beaumont, could you send some more images?’ And I was like, ‘Why? What's wrong with the images we sent?’ I instantly thought, ‘Oh goodness, they’re not good enough’. But they said ‘Oh, because we want to put that one on the front cover! So we need more for the editorial inside.’ And I was like, ‘Ohhhhh!’
K: ‘Ohhh they actually really liked it!’ Haha.
R: And to think that we had no marketing budget! At times I’d also use my spare room which was an AirBnB, to accommodate artists, and give them a place to stay while they were exhibiting with us.
K: Can we chat a bit about the Artist Boardriders Club (ABC), an enduring legacy of The Walls. I love the ABC, are you guys still meeting?
R: The ABC, is a spin-off that's still going, we still get together and surf and make and talk about art. We’re a motley crew, and it’s like herding cats. You’ve got artists and surfers; it’s not easy coordinating everyone but at the same time it just flows when we surf and make art together. I think because there is a lot of respect and it is also a lot of fun. There is something wonderful about us all floating around, all in the art/surf line up….we like to call them ‘board’ meetings!
K: Haha I can only imagine!
R: Unless the surfs pumping! But there’s something really special about it because we all work in very different ways and have disparate experiences and practices, but we connect over surfing and art. We care about each other as people beyond art and surfing, because we have that collective experience, and that's priceless. We recently did a self directed residency at the Art House in Surry Hills, surfed the wave pool in Sydney and went to a bunch of galleries including AGNSW.
R: Art wise, having the opportunity to screen Soda Jerk’s Terror Nullius on Invasion Day with artists Dominique and Dan present, and with a packed house was incredible. That was a moment I will never forget, the collective energy in space. Over nine years we also had a jetski, champagne fountain, skating rink and surf shop in the space!
Also, impact, when artists tell you of the impact the experience of The Walls had on them and the sense of belonging it created. It’s something that no amount of time or money can buy. Just the right combination of elements that bring people together.
I always tried to connect people and introduce people at events. I can’t say that I always remembered everyone’s names, but I was really conscious of connecting people as an act of community building. To make sure everyone felt connected to someone in the room, so that they belonged there. So they weren’t just coming and going without knowing anyone. I was always conscious of being the familiar face, and that being part of the job.
K: I’m just thinking whether that’s more of a personality trait of yours, or if that’s just part of the job? Should arts workers be aiming to build those connections in all our creative spaces? In a dream world, I think yes! But I can also clearly see that as being one of your individual strengths, and part of your heart and passion.
R: I am not sure, but I felt like that was an important part of what needed to happen.
K: I certainly think the need for belonging on the Gold Coast is crucial right now, that creative people need spaces to come together.
R: Our aim was to include people in the conversation about contemporary art in this place, and having a place in this place. And you know, top achievements as well… doing the Commonwealth Games, Festival 2018. Doing the international exchange, Miami / Miami, that was a really significant part of our programming.
K: And what about hard times at The Walls? Challenges that you learnt from?
R: Certainly; visibility. Literacy around contemporary art here, particularly visual art, and that hasn’t changed much.Trying to be sustainable and do it all, to keep making shows and supporting artists. It was a lot, managing the space, teaching at two universities, and running my spare room as an AirBNB to stay afloat at one point.
K: And on that, how did The Walls function practically? It would be good to hear about the organisational structure, and about your experience with artist run initiatives (ARI) more broadly. Because I’ve noticed on the Gold Coast recently, I hear lots of talk from people in the industry about ARI’s, but there’s actually very little ARI activity happening here that I’m aware of…
R: Yes… if there is, please tell me about it! I want to go! Is it on tonight?
K: Yes please! Haha. And I guess, would you even use the term ARI to describe The Walls? I know you don’t fully prescribe to the term…
R: Yeah, so I’m fairly certain artist run initiative is kind of a creation of the Australia Council, or what's now Creative Australia. So it's a bureaucratic thing, in a way, like… aren’t all acronyms? Outside of Australia, I am not sure anyone knows what an ARI is. It’s a very parochial thing I think.
But anyways, technically, we were an artist run initiative. I was an artist and so was everyone else helping to run it. It was my brain child, and the other board members - if they weren’t artists - were big art appreciators. We did incorporate the organisation, partly to remove individual risk and partly to be eligible for funding. Our board operated in a very hands on way; being present at openings and being a part of the conversations amongst everyone else there.
R: Chris had a really great show with us early on at the Mountainview space, and he had lived on the coast so was connected to the place. Later on in the lifecycle of the space, he was integral to working with artists to install shows, develop and deliver programming, and produce documentation.
K: Okay, one more Walls question; how do you feel now, reflecting on this time after the space has closed? It’s been what, two or three years?
R: Yeah, since 2021…
K: And what do you want people to remember about The Walls? Because it was a big part of your life…
R: It was huge! It comes up all the time in conversation, it is pretty amazing really how often people mention The Walls, I think we did good in that respect! Part of the reason we wrapped up the nine years when we did was because we wanted to finish on a high, it was a strategic decision, one about integrity and ending with the original vision for the space intact.
I miss the community and connectivity, and I really miss the art, and working with artists to make shows. I don't miss having to write grants and reports. And, I have weekends off now!
K: Yeah, catching up with people at events is what can sustain your practice a lot of the time. I feel like even when I'm not making art or feeling stuck, when you talk with other creative people; it’s invigorating. You feel great, even though you might not be feeling good in your practice…
R: One of the wonderful things about The Walls was we were able to offer long install periods for artists. Having that time and space to let ideas grow and unfold, to be truly experimental, and to be able to work at any time of the day as well. It's really important. Anyway, back to your question…
K: Oh, what do you want people to remember about the space?
R: Hopefully they do remember it at all! One thing; I didn't give a speech at the closing and I still haven't written my own love letter to The Walls, and I want to do that. It took me three years to archive the website…so I guess there’s still time.
R: I've recently finished the commission for HOTA which is called Formations and Earth-Sky Connections, so I'm super excited about that.
And since The Walls, I've had some really great opportunities come my way. I didn't really know if I would still make work in that practice sense, like I was before The Walls. The Walls was certainly an extension of my practice. It was my work. You know, my work is about mapping and geography and place, and it was all of those things. And likewise, being part of the Artist Boardriders club, it's also a part of my practice; responding to the landscape, drawing lines in the water.
But since then, I've been invited to have a show at Outer Space, and then that same work traveled up to Sunshine Coast University Art Gallery this year, as part of ISEA 2024; International Symposium of Electronic Art, curated by Megan Williams, the director there, and Leah Barclay.
In between all that, the invitation for the HOTA commission came along. I already had the inkling of making the video work that's in the show and had started researching that. It was also this wonderful invitation to circle back around to my works in the HOTA Collection and respond back to them, which is something that I’d wanted to do, but I hadn’t had the time or space. And now that I've done it, it feels really great. And I think for me too, I’ve actually never had a solo exhibition on the Gold Coast.
K: Really?!
R: Yeah, I know everyone says that, …
K: It’s kind of ironic…
R: Yeah, because going back to the model of The Walls, in my mind, the director of the space doesn't show in the space. This may be an extension of my art practice, but my practice isn't situated here.
K: And does it feel like you're getting the chance to re-establish yourself? I'm certainly perceiving it that way, it seems like the perfect timing.
R: Yes, and I feel like there's some alchemy there and I have felt that I'm coming back to my practice with all the spatial knowledge of building all the shows at The Walls, and the technical knowledge too.
K: Can you share about the ideas that you're playing with in this work at HOTA? I'm seeing some things on your studio walls right now…
R: Yes, these two [points to illustrations pinned to the wall], that’s the plan for the diptych in the show. There's the mirrored map, Stunning Panorama of the Coral Sea, which connects two separate maps together.
The map works track the Coral Sea from Papua New Guinea in the north, to Point Lookout in the South. They run in order of the coastline, north to south. That formed over many months in the studio of me working things out. I just had this intuition I suppose, to find all the maps I have with water in them. All the text in all the works is sampled from online, taken either from advertisements used to sell land or sell holidays, in that location shown on the maps.
Stunning Panorama of the Coral Sea stretches, mirrored, across Amity and Point Lookout. Point Lookout was actually a radar station during World War Two. So Stunning Panorama of the Coral Sea, it takes on a double meaning. This might be what you see on your holiday, or hear as the sales pitch for this destination. But when you know that it was a radar station; that stunning panorama could actually hold battleships, or submarines.
When I was making, I was thinking a lot about place and memory. The body of work looks at Australia’s coastlines as places of leisure, cultural memory, economy, tourism. But they’re extremely vulnerable; climatically and militarily. I also live on the edge of the Coral Sea, and it’s my psychologist, it’s my playground. It’s so many things to me; a place where I make friends, a place where I ponder. My research sits all around this kind of axis and then parts also pay homage to Ruby Spowart’s work.
K: Does it feel like these ideas are all starting to come together? From your past mapping work to these new ones today?
R: My compass has shifted, personal things have started to seep into my work more. Most of my works start with folly, a playfulness, and then comes a more robust crystalised idea. With Greater Sunrise, the work I made for Outer Space, everyday I was walking to greet the sunrise, and then through reading geopolitical analysis I discovered this story of the Greater Sunrise development in the Timor Sea. I wondered, can a sunrise ever be greater than the one before? I was exploring the geopolitical entanglements of the site in parallel to the practices that sit around my art practice, like walking to see the sunrise, deeply spiritual and philosophical practices yet also everyday. It was a meeting of interests for me, between geopolitics and spirituality, and how they’re both about transcendence. Because, you know, so much of what’s happening geopolitically is around sovereignty and transcending borders and boundaries. And with spirituality, it’s the same thing, right?
K: Yeah, I can see it in the language that's used in both of these spaces.
R: I guess for me, the transcendent part of that is flying. Aerial perspectives have always been a throughline in my work. I grew up flying, both my parents were pilots and where I live now is on the Coral Sea coastline where the RAAF jets fly sorties regularly and my studio is situated at the end of the airport runway. That’s sort of this serendipitous thing. Aircraft have always been a passion of mine, and that has now been synthesised in this new work for HOTA.
R: It would be really easy to talk about what we don’t have here but I guess that is also an opportunity. I think it is tricky when other places are offering more alluring opportunities for contemporary artists to exhibit and to go to shows because there are shows to go to. There is certainly some great investment from council and but there are not the spaces, studios or platforms to support the kind of experimental practice and placemaking that is necessary to galvanise a creative community.
I hope that we could just make art on the Gold Coast and it just be seen as art. Not art from the Gold Coast, or about the Gold Coast.
K: Yes, yes! It’s so tiring, isn’t it? Like, are we still asking that question? I’m young in my arts career and I’m already over it. That was one cool thing about Nextdoor’s 4217 space [in Surfers Paradise], I felt like we were able to build strong relationships between our Nextdoor art community - that’s mainly Brisbane based - and Gold Coast artists. We're actually so close, let's all get over this highway already! I commuted for four years, studying visual art in Brisbane but chose to live on the Gold Coast. Look even now, I have to phrase it like that, “choosing”...
R: Yes, I’m not being held captive…
K: It’s like I'm making this big decision to be a “Gold Coast artist”. I actually just like living here…
R: Me too!
It always was and always will be, Aboriginal land.