THE WAY EYE SEE - AUTISM AND ART
By Coral Hull
[Above] Coral Hull, Douglas Aspely National Park, Tasmania, Australia. (Photo by Iain Fraser, 2000).
"... I don't like to say I have given my life to art. I prefer to say art has given me my life. ..." -- Frank Stella
INNER AND OUTER WORLDS - THE NATURE OF CONSCIOUSNESS
As an Autistic writer and artist, my creativity has been a way for me to become conscious in this world from behind a largely hidden neurological processing barrier, that has acted like a window or forcefield, separating (((me))) from 'the external world'. Not only was I trapped within my own physical space that distinguished and isolated me from others. I preferred there to be an absence of other human beings. When my mother was called into the preschool, where I had been placed on a psychiatric certificate in an attempt to socialise me, she was made to observe me, my back to her face, in a corner with various dolls that had been placed in straight lines.
As an Autistic child who experienced the world in vivid and mystical, but largely fragmentary, moments, I was also developing a multiplicity of consciousness. Often I felt as if I was struggling through layer upon layer of consciousness, in order to become conscious in the outside world. At other times, I was content to be on my own, where I was never lonely, due to there being a continuing sense of presence. There was this feeling of "breaking through" barriers to awareness. In my 20s, as part of this initial unconscious processing, where I was attempting to be in the world, I drew seeds and women pushing up through the soil and ocean towards the sun and the moon. These drawings are: Break-Through, Emerging Woman and Woman of the Forest Floor. As I came to be more 'in' and 'of' the world, the subject matter took on a richness suggesting a variety of flowers in full bloom. But it was a long time before I was able to be in the world and rather than becoming just one person, we became many, with each eventually looking back upon the other with a sense of recognition and automony.
Armies of Dolls Skies of Tears
Because it moved. Because it was unpredictable. Because so often it was dangerous. You won't share with other children. You make them watch you playing. You won't let them in. I can't bring them over. You hit them. You won't mix. You are not human. You were playing with the dolls in the corner, when the preschool rang. They told me to come and take a look at you. You were in the corner lining the dolls up. You were building a fortress of plastic faces. Lining the dolls up around you. No-one could get near that corner. No-one could touch those dolls. If they did you would hit them. You had your back to us. All the other children were singing. They were listening to the teacher. They were doing what they were told. They were eating their lunch. They were natural. You were building armies of selves. Because I didn't know them. Because I couldn't see them. Because I couldn't hear them. Because I couldn't touch them. But each time the sky rained, they were my tears. - Coral Hull, 2006.
[Above] Woman of the Forest Floor (Artwork by Coral Hull, 1989)
Once consciousness was achieved, I would often became completely overwhelmed by incoming stimuli, so that I was either lost in a dream, or quickly retreated from 'the outside', back into my own central psyche. So began the process of exploration and retreat, in many individualised and autonomous mind states, that gradually developed into selves. These selves may have begun as alternating mind states, who either moved forward into consciousness, or who were somehow sent forward by a consciousness greater than us all, or, who stayed behind, suspended in the void of minimal awareness or what has been refered to (by Freud) as a preconscious state. I refer to the platform of this interplay of consciousness as the central psyche, or a central psychic space.
In our case this was a collective of partially integrated and alternating selves. This occurred through a form of adaptation to the external 'earth world', rather than as a specific response to trauma, so that we became a multiple system of selves operating from an Autistic neurology. Trauma in combination with neurological processing created the amnesiac barriers between the selves characteristic of MPD (Multiple Personality Disorder) that resulted in a disordered system, that would eventually and naturally rectify itself later in life.
When I say 'rectify' I do not mean to exorcise the others like 'demons' from the central psyche, or blend us in together like a fruit smoothie, in order to become 'one self'. What I mean is to maintain, nurture, respect and support the many selves in a co-operative and co-conscious operating system. Multiplicity is not a mental disorder per se, it is simply another way of being in the world. Multiplicity, especially for some Autistics, can be seen as natural form of development and adaptation as a result of neurological processing. The idea of multiplicity being associated with 'dissociation' or mental illness is outdated, restricted to an industry of mental health workers who have not as yet explored the nature of consciousness beyond a psychology textbook.
The question of inner and outer worlds may be based on a limited idea of "outer world or matter equals reality" and "inner world or mind equals imaginary". The way I see the central psyche that I share, is as a platform for a multitude of selves or consciousness, who arrive and depart like trains to and from other and often unknown destinations. I use the terminology of inner and outer worlds to describe being within the physical body or outside the physical body, however, I believe that the boundaries between matter and consciousness are blurry. There are many subscribers to the idea that the nature of consciousness is multidimensional and the phyisical universe is aware. We may be all passengers on platforms when it comes to understanding consciousness.
INTIAL EXPLORATION OF OUR PHYSICAL ENVIRONMENT
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Exploration of an external reality (the earth world) wasn't for all of us. Some of us remained "... in the dog box if summer/ where we could choose or choose not to view the world ..." (In The Dogbox of Summer, Penguin Books, 1995). While other non-autistic children achieved connections to and awareness of a three dimensional reality and formed social relationships, ((I)) saw "the human society", "the natural world" and "linear time" as an intefering monster that reached into the dog box in an attempt to draw us into its existence - that which involved unwanted transformation, ie; to "drag us away into time". Nature was tolerated only in love and companionship where nothing changed into what would be out of our perfect world. Together Rusky and (((I))) in the box were safe, unchanged.
This initial exploration of an external environment by a series of alternating mindstates (or developing selves) occurred in a meaningless and boundaryless existence, that seemed to invade "us" as much as "we" invaded it. (((I))) was the environment and the environment was (((me))). It reflected everything back at me, that I had been unable to understand within myself, in the same way that I may have absorbed and reflected it back to itself, since all are the one consciousness. Most people are meant to search within, but having no within, my answers came from without to within, and from within to without, in an ongoing exchange of information, processing and interpretation. I became my environment as it became me, through intimate knowing and shared states of consciousness. |
[Above] Coral Hull in Rusky's Dogbox. (Photo by Inez Hull, 1967)
Therefore it was important to me that my environment, which included all living beings, existed in peace, harmony and happiness. I became what is referred to as an empath, who registered via psychic impressions and subtle energies. Social signals were misinterpreted. Meaning was non-existent. I resonated with emotions and other consciousness via my senses. I communicated via thought processes which would be considered telepathic and/or psychokinetic. This was more natural and less restrictive communication than language and the skills required for verbalisation and socialisation, that threatened to disturb and destroy (((my))) connection to the universal consciousness, by the creation of societal and self-imposed limitations. It appeared as if the society of human beings, that I had little in common with from the outset, was attempting to dictate my reality to me.
To make matters worse, each time I fought by insisting upon my existence and sense of reality, I was attacked, threatened, harrassed, punished, misunderstood, ostracised and abused both physically and psychologically, as others attempted to control me and dictate my reality. These 'outsiders' (aka sociopathic and narcissistic human beings) were attempting to impinge upon (((my))) spiritual existence and for a while and deep within the unconscious of the central psyche that I share, it became a matter of "us" and "them". Their reality was as alien to us, as ours was to theirs, but in this situation the majority ruled and Autism placed "us" at a physical disadvantage. Under stress from a barbaric external reality, that included nature anytime any being suffered, the psyche began to erect protective walls and barriers between the selves, in an attempt to compartmentalise and restrict access to the core self or sense of being. The first major psychic split occured at 8 months of age.
[Above] Coral Hull, Brewarrina, New South Wales, Australia. (Photo by Brendon Hull, 1993).
FIRST POEM - CONNECTION, RECONNECTION AND INTERPRETATION
In order to reconnect with those lost selves as well as the external environment, ((I)) struggled simultaneously for both inner and outer awareness, as often happened with the selves, with each seeming to cancel out the other. The challenge was to remain multi-dimensional and co-conscious while camouflaged from predators.
My first poem was written at 13 years of age. It was a simple rhyme about a rainforest and the thrill was not only about attempting to define my world, but that anything could have definition at all. If the rainforest existed, then so did I, since I was the rainforest. Not only was I the rainforest, but as a poet/writer, I had both initiated and participated in the process of the creation of a new forest, the forest of the page and of the central psyche and of the worlds. In reality they were all the same forest. Rather than being amazed by my own cleverness (ego) as a narcissist would be, I was an Autistic thrilled by the substantiation of (being) in the world.
If the rainforest existed and I created the poem, it might exist for the second time and then perhaps I existed for the second time as well. Therefore I would not be lost to life again, clammouring for consciousness over another consciousness. Here was (((I))) finally existing in the external earth world of 'outsiders' and giving myself definition simultaneously via creation. All things continued to be defined in this way as, carefully, methodically and repetitively, I began to process the world around me and to document my journey through the world and my feelings on paper. Throughout my teens this was only achieved through simple rhyming poetry.
One of my first memorable drawings was done at preschool when I was 3 1/2 yrs old. It was a huge apple tree (the central psyche) growing gloriously up from the earth (universal consciousness) with dozens of red apples suspended in the greenery (multiple streams of developing consciousness). Over the years from my teens into early adulthood, my writing was to become just as multitudinous and repetitive. It occurred as intense splashes of raindrops into a series of ponds, rather than the winding linear narrative of a river, that would end up as the sea. This can be evidenced in the building of layered imagery in poems such as 'Dog, Tap and Watertank' (The Straight Road Inland, Artesian Productions, 2006) and 'The Rabbits Have Gone To Populate Tarcoon' (The Secret Horses of Peterborough, Artesian Productions, 2005). I wrote poems in the same way that a child with bright yellow gum boots would splash into ponds, unaware, ecstatic and oblivious to the calls to come home for dinner.
I was, in effect, entirely lost within the new reality of each poem, which, when channelled from my unconscious or the universe, lent itself to an honesty and non self-consciousness. I struggled with spelling, grammar, typing - one fingered typist, connecting sentences together, style, content and form. But what I lacked in technical ability, I made up for through depth of emotional observation, creative obsession and stubborn determination, because I strived for awareness, understanding, truth and continued connection with my physical surroundings.
[Above] Marble Statue of Man and Eagle, Versai, Paris, France. (Photo by Coral Hull, 2002)
If the poem didn't exist and what was within the poem didn't exist, then neither did I. Yet there appeared to be no single self aware ego state that feared solely for its own existence, largely due to the rapid and ongoing unconscious switching between the selves. We would either be there or we wouldn't and then we would be there again. Upon the completion of any work, that was usually channelled from selves who were not conscious, I found my own collective consciousness staring back at me from the page like a new found friend. I spent a lot of time looking into mirrors and into windows for the same reason, and that is not through an narcissistic grandiosity/insecurity, but through the attempt to exist in the first place! The mirroring process that included mimicry and the collection of data, was about self definition or, in the case of this psyche, selves definition.
Often I can only write in a series of disconnected moments. Making analogies and comparisons between things, assists me in connecting to those moments. This will occur as 'branching' rather than linear movement. (((I))) will then jump not only from one branch to the next, but from one tree to the next tree, either not knowing how (((I)))) got there, only that the eternal moment is now ours, for when I look back, I will see consciousness aside and apart from my own, upon the branches that I had thought were mine. Thus we expand in our being-ness while living in a series of eternal moments or islands of awareness and ability within a central psychic space.
Sometimes these moments are connected by branches of analogy and comparison and other times all association between them is lost and (((I))) remain stranded on islands of awareness and sensation with only one pair of psychic binoculars. Since we experience consciousness as series of connected and disconnected eternal moments, time appears to extend. To those who have worked with me, it seems as if I achieve a lot in a short period of time, however to this psyche, your one day is our three days and so to us more time has passed and so more will be achieved during that period. Living in a series of eternal moments has created the sensation of living a very long lifetime. But for those selves who are only intermittently awake (conscious) or visiting from within the central psyche, they can feel as if they have hardly lived in the physical body at all.
[Above] Squirrel, Fredericton, New Brunswick, Canada. (Photo by Coral Hull, 1998)
BEING DIFFERENTLY ABLED - OR WHEN THE DISABLED HAVE SOMETHING TO OFFER
I was an Autistic child who longed to explore and connect to the world, but when I found myself suddenly in it and it was hostile and barbaric, I pulled the plug and returned to G-O-D. I was a child who cried out for a mother who was dissociated and self-absorbed, but when that mother finally did respond, I looked past her face at the light shining behind her shoulder and forgot that she existed, since I was barely able to focus on one sensation at a time. I was a child who desired interaction with other children, so long as they kept their distance, didn't make any sudden moves and did exactly what I wanted them to. In this way our realities collided as we attempted to exert control over our surroundings, with each self insisting upon their own version of reality.
I was so differently-abled that even tying my shoelaces or attempting to follow simple instructions, or baking a cake, or the methodology involved in showering and dressing oneself, would cause confusion, followed by shut-down and perhaps brief periods of catatonia. As an adolescent I was to hide behind my aloofness and many pairs of dark sunglasses and through a lack of awareness and participation. My art and writing have been an attempt by me to participate, to connect with the physical three dimensional reality. I explored the horror of this 'physicality of the world' in my earlier work, but slowly the horror turned into an astounding awareness of beauty within the outside world, as I began to bloom into beingness from non-beingness in my late twenties.
When I write about a she-oak 'The She-Oaks In The Grey Mist Were Roaring Like Trains', (The Secret Horses of Peterborough, Artesian Productions, 2005) I want to know all about that she-oak. I want to have that continuing sense of the she-oak, the special connection and empathy. But in order for me to really know the she-oak, I must research it. I must know its physical qualities. I must know everything about it and I must record these facts, simply because too soon I will forget them all again, as my mind goes wandering from association to association, such as comparing the needles to green rain and green rain to the green equatorial sky and the green equatorial sky falling into the whispering oceans of she-oaks. Thus physicality became my anchor.
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While possessing a vivid imagination and linear concept of time would have ultimately benefited me as a creative artist and writer, there is little to no imagination at work here. Rather there is a series of rapid connections and comparisons being made. I am travelling through the psyche's layers of consciousness in an almost desperate way. I am processing as much about those she-oaks as I can, because I don't want to lose the partially established connection between myself and them.
I don't want to become preconscious again. While I naturally relate to the more mystical, I sometimes just want to come down from that high and understand what are referred to as "facts" regarding the subject matter. This allows me to place it in a different context. Knowing that something is physical, or that others have discovered the physicality of the she-oaks, has had the result of anchoring them into my own states of shifting consciousness. In doing this, I am attempting to remember things and to stay co-conscious and present to the moment, rather than simply drifting away again. |
[Above] Break-Through (Artwork by Coral Hull, 1998)
Much of who (((I))) am was hidden. What we have is a neurological processing difference, but in my case it was impaired. This impairment placed restrictions not only on my ability to read and understand signals in a social context, but in personal ones as well, since it did not allow me to maintain full and ongoing functionality for extended periods of time. I lost the ability to judge space and distance, since as I would reach for a glass or turn on a light switch, I would reach past it hurting my hand on the wall behind it. Several times throughout my life I have lost the ability to be able to read and write. There are times when I have forgotten how to speak, or where I am, how to walk and how to move my arm to pick up a cup of tea. Any decision making process might result in a catatonic episode. This is all accompanied by a vulnerable and high maintenance physical system.
Then the opposite occurs, where so often I have suddenly been able to do things, as if the skill had come from nowhere. This might be anything from landscape gardening, to theraputic massage. Alternatively, I have spent years attempting to do things that I could not, such as driving a manual vehicle and sculpting. I attempted to write poetry at Wollongong University in New South Wales for 3 years and I was unable to do so. Yet several years later, while at conceptual art school in South Australia and severely ill again, I suddenly wrote a poem warranting some merit and they seemed to pour forth, often as a repetition of exactly the same themes that I had been attempting to express years before, since I had obviously not finished with the subject matter.
[Above] Jen, Chelsea, New York, New York, USA. (Photo by Coral Hull, 1998)
It was as if the poems were still trapped inside somewhere with me, but that we could not access each other. The poems and I were both tapping our foreheads against one another in the dark, in the same way that I used to hit myself in the head as a child in order to make my brain work, while the external world that we could not interpret passed us by, like a slow moving dream behind a shield of glass. While I looked to physical external environments in order to provide a continuing representation of myself, much of my photography is about distance from those very same environments. "I asked my nan/ 'am i an indoor girl or an outdoor girl?'/ 'you're a little bit of both', she said/ (The Umbrella Tree, from Williams Mongrels, Artesian Productions, 2005).
Before I knew that I was Autistic, the caption that accompanied my first book of photography Remote said: "I have lived in a mysterious and remote world, all texture and sensation." I attempted to construct thoughts into feelings, feelings into words and words into a new reality through poetry. Not having made contact with the external world as much as I would have liked, most writing is channelled from multiple selves who are involved in endlessly emerging from and retreating into layer upon layer of consciousness within the central psyche.
It took over 50 books, 200 drawings and thousands of photos, before I was able to explore my interior and exterior realities with awareness and simultaneously. I had been mostly concerned with the external world which I used as a psychic mirror, because, at twenty-six years of age, many of us were finally arriving in it, from various states of preconsciousness and non-existence, that included the emergence of the first half of the original self, hidden since infancy. What you have in the case of (((my))) Autism was a series of alternating conscious states (many of which developed into autonomous selves) struggling to be conscious in the world.
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This, of course, is all designed to be hidden, since we have at least seven developed selves who deal with humans and human society. Once away from human society and in the company of animals, infants and the natural world, we go back to our original ways of being. It has too often been humans who pose the threat, rather than our way of being within this reality. ... It's not that I have been unhappy, I have learnt to laugh as I fall over, bump my head, drop and spill things, walk into a room and not know where I am, forget what I was doing or about to say, laugh at a joke 20 seconds after everyone else, adopt my own sense of fashion, or completely trust what you tell me, (because I naturally expect people to have a sense of honesty and integrity and, aside from that, it is simply easier to believe people than to doubt them.) |
[Above] The Good Samaritan Donkey Sanctuary, Newcastle, New South Wales, Australia. (Photo by Fiona Rees, 1996)
A CHALLENGING CAREER CHOICE FOR AN AUTISTIC - CREATIVE ARTS
I was no savant or genius. I was just another unsupported disabled person struggling for food, clothing and shelter, but with my creativity as a way into the world and my work assisting others, as limited as that is, it's a way in which to transform a beautiful and suffering world, that I have so empathised with since childhood.
I spent a great deal of time in old and inadequate clothes fearing the change of the seasons, and penniless without the means or knowledge to supply my body with adequate nutrition or medicine, while appealing to people's lost sense of compassion when it came to their treatment of animals and children. Because I had not lost faith in myself, I had not lost faith in other human beings to understand their own power and the moral responsibility that comes with it. Whenever people lacked compassion I mainly responded with bewilderment.
In my case physical appearances are deceiving, and my Autism has more than often been mis-interpreted as "creative eccentricity" through to "an evil alien - the aliens amongst us - posing as a human being". While I am not institutionalised and as obviously disabled as Rainman or looking very weird and dangerous like Edward Scissorhands, I do relate to both of them and my way of thinking and behaving can still be very Forrest Gump.
In a career that is dominated by ego-centric narcissists, that relies on the superficiality of appearances, the interpretation of complex social signals and networking (who you know, who you screw, how to lie, who to suck up to), far more than it does on hard work, acquired skills and genuine ability, then Autistics (alongside others who are at a physical disadvantage) are more than often left out of the action. Where are the disabled artists and writers anyway? If anything and despite some limited success, I am still an Autistic person who is fiercely independent and who finds it hard to admit, even to herself, the challenge of a multitude of health issues, day to day cognitive functioning, let alone the traversal of a foreign and hostile society. What I needed as a child was kindness and understanding, followed in adulthood by the support of a good literary agent or a publisher who wasn't going to misunderstand me, belittle me, or thieve my work and who made allowances for my differences and disabilities. I needed someone with my best interests at heart to act a go-between, between society and my own way of being. I needed an interpreter, or several, because most of the time, I'll be stuffed if I can work out what people are going on about, especially when it's just not nice. Why do it to yourselves?
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In reality I am a differently-abled person with a different set of physical and psychological needs to a non-Autistic person, but human society with its lack of compassion and conformist approach, transforms me into 'disabled'. As an Autistic, I could not change my physical brain neurology, but I have certainly worked on my awareness and in doing so, I am transforming my consciousness. Very importantly, I have proven that it is still possible to assist others, despite any physical limitations and the poverty that results from that.
Understanding that I am Autistic, rather than the many names and labels that I have been subjected to over the years, means that I am no longer prepared to be a dumping ground for projected hatreds and hostilities that exist in this society at present. Here is a picture of me sleeping in a car, because I didn't know any better and my body and brain were still not functioning properly in my mid-twenties. Oddly, I was then considered 'a threat' within the poetry scene because I wrote too many books and had no enemies, amongst other things. This was said to me numerous times. My question is; how could anyone possibly be 'threatened' by a disabled person living in poverty, who is obviously struggling to even maintain their ability to 'exist' in the first place, let alone to read and write? |
[Above] Fitzroy Crossing, Western Australia, Australia. (Photo by unknown photographer, 1992)
There is nothing new about Autistics being naive and thereby becoming convenient victims or scapegoats, who often aren't even aware enough to know that they are being used, exploited and abused by human predators. Some Autistics, who through ongoing mistreatment or through the rage and frustration of their own physical disabilites, may have developed secondary psychological disorders and may also be prone to mistreating others and each other. So it is not always a matter of us and them, but rather of love and fear within us all. There is also nothing new about predators attacking the disabled, or about the disabled being disadvantaged by the very nature of their genetics that predisposes them to such attacks. As an Autistic person struggling within my own consciousness, living in a non-autistic society that dictates the rules, I've had more than my share of morally abhorrent experiences. But to put things in perspective, I have had my share of positive experiences too.
There are many people around who are doing "the right thing" for me to be motivated and inspired by, not to mention the continuing presence and persistence of angelic children, animals and nature and those who strive to see them in joy and at peace. Being physically handicapped does not preclude me from assisting those who I see as less fortunate than myself. If anything it has helped to give me more of an understanding of where they may be coming from and more determination to assist on a small scale whenever possible. Consciousness is a great gig and for (((me))) it has been one that is hard fought for and won, on a moment to moment basis.
I do not want to exist in partial isolation from this physical three dimensional reality. I discovered very early on in life that the only way into the world was through a holistic connection, which was slowly achieveable through a combination of empathetic consciousness and creativity that involved observation, documentation and an awareness of my inner and outer surroundings for better or for worse and with faith adorning the emptiness. While functionality in a physical environment can present a daily challenge, I do want to be a part of this living thread of continuing consciousness and existence, and creativity has helped me to achieve this connection.
[Above] The Good Samaritan Donkey Sanctuary 2, Newcastle, New South Wales, Australia. (Photo by Fiona Rees, 1996)
MOVING BEYOND THE LIMITATION OF AUTISM INTO LIMITLESS COMPASSION
As fully conscious beings, we influence each other across the eons, through inter dimensional space and alternate realities and this includes participation within human society. I am not a psychopath or a narcissist working in the isolation of my own ego. For as a developing multiple, this central psyche has many (((egos))) who alternately fuse in and out of each other in a fluidity of adaptation and functionality. Creativity is not achieved in isolation, since as co-creators, we each bring with us an inherited knowledge that pre-dates the history of the earth. Let us forget our egos and say whatever it is we have to say, through our shared creativity and consciousness over and over again, since everything that has already been said may have been forgotten.
I will not be an Autistic trapped within my own preconscious mindstates, while life out there passes my half-awakened self like a slow moving dream. Instead, this central psychic space that I am a part of will be a place where I can reside, as my neurologial processing allows me to continue to walk between the worlds. Perhaps for some of us, it is a matter of you showing us a safer world that accepts us for who we are, before we will choose to fully belong to it. Or, perhaps we can show you, by coming out and just being without fear, despite the alien atmosphere of your world for us and visa versa. Regardless of your current monopoly on reality, this is also (((my))) existence and (((my))) reality and thus this remains my world and my society as much as it is yours. If I wish to participate as a co-creator, then I must at least remain partially connected with this physical reality and human society. My writing and art is simply one way of doing this. The other way of doing it is by allowing all beings their neurological diversity and thereby remaining interconnected to all the consciousness that is and was and will be and the connecting force that binds us each to the other is, of course, creativity and L-0-V-E.
"... Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place ..." -- Zora Neale Hurston
About the Writer Coral Hull
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Coral is the author of over 50 books of poetry, prose poetry, fiction, artwork and digital photography. Born with Autism in 1965, she was raised under disadvantaged circumstances in the working class suburb of Liverpool in Sydney's outer west. Coral became concerned with issues of social justice and spirituality from an early age. She became an ethical vegan and an animal rights advocate who has since spent much of her life working voluntarily on behalf of animals and the environment, both as an individual and for various non-profit organisations. She is also the Executive Editor and Publisher of Thylazine: an electronic journal featuring articles, interviews and reviews of the recent work of Australian writers and artists. Coral Hull's complete works are now available from Artesian Productions (Darwin, Australia). Coral holds a Doctor of Creative Arts Degree (Creative Writing Major) from the University of Wollongong. An extensive biography, list of publications, festivals, interviews, articles and reviews are online. Coral is The Director of The Thylazine Foundation: Arts, Ethics and Literature. Coral Hull's work is in the public domain for non-commercial use under the Creative Commons License. |
[Above] Coral Hull, Elliot Hotel, Elliot, Northern Territory, Australia. (Photo by Coral Hull, 2001)
I Next I
Back I
Exit I
Thylazine No.11 (June, 2006) |
