Reg Mombassa – Forgotten Design Hero

Reg Mombassa isn’t a name that many people my age would recognise, but you might recognise him by his distinct visual style and larrakinistic attitude. They may be vaguely aware of a band called Mental as Anything¸ that he used to play in. They would surely recognise Mambo, the cheeky surfwear brand, but I’m almost certain they wouldn’t know about Reg Mombassa. The only reason I know about him is because of a documentary I caught one night on SBS2. While Reg [birth name Christopher O’Doherty] is from New Zealand, his work always seemed to me to have a distinctly Australian bent. They often feature Australian animals, outback landscapes, and a character called ‘Australian Jesus’. Despite the recognition that he has, I still consider him to be a ‘forgotten superhero of design.’

Mombassa’s work has become so closely intertwined with the Mambo brand, which has its own set of connotations and attributes. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Mombassa and Mambo share much of the same lackadaisical attitude. In one way it feels as though Mombassa’s artistic identity has become one with Mambo’s, so it should be asked, if anything is lost by that? When people think of Mambo, they likely think of Mombassa’s work without knowing that it is his going back to the idea of the anonymous or collective designer.

The question that must be asked is where does Mombassa sit culturally? As much as I admire his work I don’t really see him as a ‘high artist.’ Of course, much of his work was for a surf-wear company, which plants him immediately in an accessible place. His work is maybe too sarcastic, or satirical to be canonised. Who are the “authoritative members of the art community”[1] to come and legitimise Mombassa’s work? George Dickie said that “a work of art is an artefact of a kind created to be presented to an artworld public,”[2] but Mombassa’s art was created not for the art world, but for the surfer. For the insolent rebels, and those who would put their middle finger up to art as an institution.

[1] Victor Margolin. “Design Studies: Tasks and Challenges.” The Design Journal 16, no. 4 (2013): 401.

[2] Ibid.

Figure 1: Reg Mombassa, Gumscapes with road and creatures, 2014

If we look at an example of his work, like this panel from Gumscapes with road and creatures, [see fig.1] Mombassa features Australian landmarks shifted and changed into something abstract. Strange yet familiar. The foundations of the Sydney Opera house are red brick and the large wedges of its roof are made of rusty corrugated iron. The harbour bridge is straddled by a gigantic spitting spider. In a way Mombassa has brought some of Australia’s most dominant architectural and structural icons closer in line with the image of the Australian suburbia. The only thing I can think of that would make it more so would be the presence of a hills hoist somewhere in the background. This work is a good example of Mombassa’s interest in heightening what he sees as quintessentially Australian. It feels as though he’s taking both an outsiders and an insider’s perspective in this work. In a way he is both of these things. Born in New Zealand, but having lived here long enough to call it home. Australia’s reputation as a hive of deadly spiders is a notion from those on the outside looking in. The Harbour Bridge and the opera house are icons known to those overseas, instantly situating the scene in Australia, but the red brick and the corrugated iron, the washed out greens and greys of the gum trees, and the browning of the grass feel like Aus; less of a major flourish, but a quality that you’d only recognise after being steeped in it for quite some time. Neha Kale described his work as “olive-green hills dotted with anthropomorphic trees, crayon-bright barbecues and boneyards” going on to say that Mombasa’s work “has come to symbolise the modern Australian psyche, its sunny promise and simmering cultural anxieties.”[3] I find this rather apt and largely accurate. Kale has put words to the rather particular feeling Mombasa’s work expresses.

[3] Neha Kale. “Reg Mombassa Uses Art to Challenge the Bullying of “more Powerful Males”.” Sydney Morning Herald, August 3, 2018. Accessed April 3, 2019. https://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/art-and-design/reg-mombassa-uses-art-to-challenge-the-bullying-of-more-powerful-males-20180730-h13auq.html.

In another work of his Australian Beer Tree we see a Koala, a Kangaroo, and a Jumbuck blackout drunk under an Australian shaped tree flowering with beer cans. Again he has taken strong pieces of Australian iconography and heightened and abstracted them. Taken Australians pride, and then thrown its boozing culture in its face. The work makes me ask ‘why?’ and the answer that’s closest to the truth is probably for a bit of a laugh. In an interview with Bernard Zuel for the Sydney Morning Herald Mombassa said “it would be a f—ing dull world without art and music,”[4] and I think that might just be it.

[4] Bernard Zuel. “Sentimental as Anything.” Sydney Morning Herald, June 29, 2002. Accessed April 2, 2019. https://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/music/sentimental-as-anything-20020629-gdfepn.html.


Figure 2: Reg Mombassa, Australian Beer Tree, 2001

Bibliography:

Bernard Zuel. “Sentimental as Anything.” Sydney Morning Herald, June 29, 2002. Accessed April 2, 2019. https://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/music/sentimental-as-anything-20020629-gdfepn.html.

Neha Kale. “Reg Mombassa Uses Art to Challenge the Bullying of “more Powerful Males”.” Sydney Morning Herald, August 3, 2018. Accessed April 3, 2019. https://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/art-and-design/reg-mombassa-uses-art-to-challenge-the-bullying-of-more-powerful-males-20180730-h13auq.html.

Victor Margolin. “Design Studies: Tasks and Challenges.” The Design Journal 16, no. 4 (2013): 401.

Dimitri Margiolis-Contextualise my design practice

As an industrial designer, much of my practice is based around problem solving. How different pieces come together to create a solution to something. During the process of creating, you are acting as a prism where every ideas filter through you to become something different on the other side. Some things that come through are just natural and unconscious while others are more deliberate choices that shape a designs direction. As a designer it is important to know the choices you’re making, and maybe more important is to know what your blind spots are; what are the things that you might be overlooking?

So, it is interesting when a group like Earthworks comes along and establishes themselves as an institution built very consciously on a structure of equality and opportunity. As a group established on a University campus it isn’t unusual that they are using curious modes of operation; they have the opportunity to be creative and expressive, and the means to do so effectively. Getting started in a somewhat remote part of their university campus allowed for the expression of art and an informal type of work. As noted by Olga Tsara, because they were on the fringes they established an “informal arts education that was less concerned with the techniques of old masters and instead incorporated multi-disciplinary, art history, and technical experimentation”[1] which in turn led to more creative freedom in their work.

[1] Jess Berry. “Earthworks and Beyond.” In The Design Collective: An Approach to Practice, 183. Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2012.

That said, I don’t feel this sort of drive in my design practice. It seems to me that at universities presently there isn’t much room for creative expression. Why, because the university is rigid and structured. This bothers me because I want to be able to solve a problem, and do it with a sort of virtuous bent, but all I can seem to muster is a very direct solution to whatever assignment is presented to me in class. Whenever I bring this up people seem to take it to mean that I resent the institution, or have a sort of dissatisfaction, but it’s not quite like that. I feel like my ideas aren’t coming through me as a person, but instead moving around me to become something I think an assessor would want to see.

I understand why university classes are structured as they are; because it is rather straightforward to measure learning and skills when they’re held up against set tasks and criteria rather than letting students have complete creative freedom and trying to mark that instead. In relation to my practice, my peers and I hardly seem to have time to be completing our set work, let alone starting creative collectives based on radical social change. It seems that these students were extremely driven, extremely motivated [although maybe not towards their education]. This could be a result of the tin sheds existing in a time of ‘student riots, unrest, and dissatisfaction’.[2] Their whole operation became based around engaging with the community, when now I see myself and my peers doing anything to stick to the rules and stay out of trouble.

[2] Ibid. 185

Naturally in a group context there emerges some people whose voice is heard above the rest. It isn’t my place to speculate on whether or not this is due to someone’s psychology or personal lived experience, but let us accept that this is the case. So when we are talking about the Earthworks collective and people are saying that Chips Mackinolty became more of a controlling presence in the group,[3] that he started taking them in directions that they might not have ventured, it feels like a sort of blame falls on him, without the acknowledgement that a group will organise itself based on personalities. Within my own design practice I find that in group efforts there are those who have a stronger influence on the path that the group takes. Ideally they are receptive to different voices in a team, but realistically, as I’ve said above I don’t think that this is often the case. On a recent project I found myself stepping in line with my collaborators vision. It’s not because I didn’t have my own voice on the team, but rather that what they were striving for was worthwhile and I was happy to contribute. Michael Callaghan asserted that “if a collective is a group of people who operate on a democratic basis and vote decisions that are implemented and carried out, they are a collective’[4], and I tend to agree. It takes all sorts to make a collective, not just de facto leaders.

[3] Ibid 184

[4] Ibid. 184

So what do I mean by all that? In short, I admire the Earthworks Poster Collective. They had courage, they had drive, and what I haven’t mentioned, they made really good, high-impact posters. Despite whatever complaints might be made about them not being as ‘democratic’ as they may have appeared on the outside, they still put out great work, and what’s more, we’re still talking about them.


Bibliography:

Jess Berry. “Earthworks and Beyond.” In The Design Collective: An Approach to Practice, 183-185. Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2012.