Imagine discovering a piece of history hidden away for decades, a silent testament to a painful chapter in Australia’s past. That’s exactly what happened when a long-lost Indigenous artwork, created over 70 years ago by a child from the Stolen Generation, was found in the trunk of a regional Western Australian museum. This isn’t just a story about art—it’s a story about resilience, loss, and the enduring power of creativity in the face of adversity. But here’s where it gets even more compelling: this artwork, drawn by 12-year-old Claude Kelly in 1947 at the Carrolup Native Mission School near Katanning, had been sitting unnoticed for nearly 25 years, its origins and significance almost lost to time.
The museum where it was discovered is a staggering 200 kilometers away from Carrolup, raising questions about how it ended up there. Steve Brown-Smith, curator of the Corrigin Historical Society, revealed that the piece was donated decades ago, but the original curator’s passing left its history shrouded in mystery. ‘It’s been undisturbed in an old trunk for most of that time,’ he explained. This isn’t an isolated case—hundreds of Carrolup artworks have been scattered across the globe, from London to New York, their journeys as complex as the stories they tell.
Take, for instance, the tale of Florence Rutter, a British woman who visited Australia in 1949 and was gifted hundreds of Carrolup pieces to exhibit and sell in London. Or Herbert Mayer, an American whose private collection of 127 artworks was donated to Colgate University in New York, only to be rediscovered by chance in 2004. These pieces, created by children who were forcibly removed from their families, are more than just art—they’re windows into a time and experience that many of us can barely comprehend. And this is the part most people miss: these artworks were often made with whatever materials were available, reflecting the harsh conditions of the mission schools where quality supplies were scarce.
Now, Claude Kelly’s piece is safely preserved at the John Curtin Gallery in Perth, where it’s being treated with the care it deserves. Patricia Ryder, the gallery’s senior Carrolup adviser, emphasizes its significance: ‘For the families of these artists, this could be the only tangible evidence of their loved ones’ existence.’ But here’s the controversial part: while efforts are underway to reunite these artworks with their cultural heritage, the reality is that many may never return. Exhibitions, like the one held in the UK in 2022, aim to track down missing pieces, but the challenge is immense.
Restoring these fragile works is no small feat. Lisa Liebetrau, Carrolup collections officer, notes that many pieces suffer from insect damage, dust, and deterioration due to poor-quality materials. ‘These artworks were created in a post-World War II era, under conditions where the government provided minimal resources,’ she explains. The restoration process involves meticulous work by paper conservators, ensuring these pieces can be appreciated for generations to come.
The search continues, with only 17 artists identified out of the 127 pieces in the Herbert Mayer collection. ‘We’re pushing for more research and education to fill in the gaps,’ says Ryder. But here’s a thought-provoking question: Should these artworks be returned to Australia, or do they now belong to the global community as a shared heritage? Let’s discuss—what do you think? Is it possible, or even right, to reclaim every piece, or should the focus be on preserving their stories wherever they are? The conversation is far from over, and your voice matters.
