Sara Bowen

I’ve been interested in how and why people move countries ever since I emigrated to Australia in 2006, and I have a particular interest in the experiences of refugees who risk sea crossings in their bid to come here.  I’m seasick on boats, I’m scared of sharks, I can’t see well in the water, and I can barely swim – I can’t imagine the desperation that prompts people to risk a sea crossing to Australia in leaky, smelly, dirty fishing boats.  I try to imagine what it must be like to be on a crowded boat at night, in a storm, filled with fear.

Almost thirty slates, cut in the 19th century and used on the roof of my former house in Bristol, were brought to Australia and screen printed with an image of ocean waves in a gloss varnish. The constellations that would guide a navigator sailing from Afghanistan to Australia were gilded across the waves, and the opening stanzas of Rumi’s Song of the Reed were engraved across the slates.

Listen to the story of the reed

As it laments the pain of separation:

Since they have cut me from my reed bed

My wails bring tears to both woman and man

Those ripped away from their beloved

know my song

Having been cut from the source,

they long to return