Program – Art in Sound: Music Inspired by Gil Jamieson

Art in Sound: Music inspired by Gil Jamieson
Friday, 6 June 2025, 6:30pm
Monto Museum of Art

This special event performance is inspired by the artwork of esteemed artist, Gil Jamieson.

Camerata along with 2025 Emerging Composer-in-Residence, have curated and composed music in response to selected works of Gil Jamieson at the Monto Museum of Art, the culmination of a residency with the gallery.

Hear how and why they chose their pieces, what inspired them and what drew them to the particular works.

Read the full program below.

We hope you enjoy the performance!

This tour is made possible with the support of the Queensland Government through Arts Queensland. This special event performance is also possible with thanks to a donor who wishes to remain anonymous.

Presented by North Burnett Regional Council

The bold, expressive qualities of “Winter Sunset” appealed to me and while it is slightly surreal and abstract, I found it relatable. 

I love how the red sinking sun is at the heart of the work, the contrast of the scarlet hue against the sombre blue and grey bush is reminiscent of fire which is provocative and ominous. Purcell’s melancholy song Now Winter Comes Slowly has a sinking, resigned feeling created by the chromatic descending lines. I wanted to blur this piece of traditional music just as Gill Jamison’s painting has traditional roots but with a modernist Australian edge. 

To reflect this idea, I deconstructed Purcell’s song by adding Australian bush soundscapes as well as having half the musicians playing the original music but on the bridge (sul pont) and tremolo to slightly distort the traditional music and evoke the shimmer of the changing light of sunset. The growing darkness is gradually filled with the lonely cacophony of the bush. 

Drawn to the colours, sweeping brushstrokes, and pulsing momentum within the canvas, I chose a piece that would echo the emotional tide this artwork stirs. To me, it speaks of two lovers moving toward a horizon – perhaps at the dawn of a journey, or approaching its end – suspended in that delicate space between hope and hesitation.

I chose this piece before reading the artist’s own words, and was quietly elated to find that my heart had traced the same path they had painted. A beautiful testament to the clarity and depth of their vision. 

I chose to respond to Horseman in the Landscape. Looking at Gil’s collection I was intrigued by his painting style being quite impressionistic, and the somewhat common thread of nature and natural disaster underpinning his work.

Impressionism is a style of art primarily characterised by its emphasis on capturing the fleeting visual “impression” of a scene, focusing on light, colour, and atmosphere rather than precise details. This can be seen in this work through the distinct brush strokes and the colour. On the outset it seems quite simple but Gil states in his description this work was made during the period of flood and rain which culminated in the 1974 flood. At the time there was plenty of grass however in this scene the grass had dried up. So, with this in mind I put myself in the shoes of the horseman looking at the forest. 

I imagined the bittersweet feeling of looking at this dried landscape after intense periods of floods, droughts, and bushfires. I wanted to capture this moment musically, the isolated thoughts of the horseman, the weight of dealing with the harshness of the land and the solitary moment, the emotions welling up and the words unspoken. Without thinking, the music from the third movement of Ravel’s string quartet started playing in my head and I think it encapsulates these ideas really well. Ravel’s compositions were considered by critics to be impressionistic even though he was not a fan of that label. 

Funnily enough for our standard mainstage concerts on this regional tour we are playing the Ravel String Quartet all together in chamber orchestra format. However, I’m delighted to perform the original intimate string quartet version for you with my lovely colleagues Dan, Clare, and Tom.  

My response to Rider in the Flood is inspired by the community and comradery Australians build in the face of a crisis. I am always warmed by the generosity of spirit people will muster to help each other navigate what can be an absolutely shattering experience putting your life back together after a flood disaster.

A song I feel really encapsulates this is Slim Dusty’s The Flood of ’95. The lyrics are all about coming together and blossoming as a nation through the devastation. In my response I will be playing Slim Dusty’s melody on the viola.

The painting itself, to me, has the essence of French Impressionism, and one of the most prolific composers of that time was Claude Debussy. I have used the rhythmic structure and some direct quotes from the third movement of his symphonic work “La Mer” which literally translates to “the sea”. Not only does this fit the aquatic theme of the painting, but the relentlessly rolling triplets in this movement reminds me of the sound of horses galloping, which are also depicted in the painting. This rhythmic theme accompanies the Slim Dusty melody, and I have also weaved in and expanded upon some direct quotes from La Mer to add more chaos and depth to the response.

This painting caught my attention because it seemed like there was a lot of life experience contained behind his face and eyes. As I understand it, he struggled pretty hard for a livelihood in his early years and I agree with those who say it comes through.  As a great chronicler of people in the bush I picked a bit of country cowboy in this painting.

Gil Jamieson and I also share a friend in common, Phil Brown, the editor of In Review and former Arts Editor at The Courier-Mail (when it still had an Arts section). Phil has said of Gil, that he was “pretty wild” and that he was “full of fun, satire and a desire to outrage the public”. 

So, the piece I’ve written, starts out with a beautiful bass line over which some sensual harmony plays out, which is my attempt to allude to the soul behind that rugged face. Then it morphs into a bit of silly “spaghetti western” music quoting Morricone, which I think was music used in the Clint Eastwood film, The Good, The Bad and The Ugly, amongst others.  The yellow colour is striking, so the piece becomes super weird at the end to address the yellow colour and in a subtle attempt to “outrage the public”.

I hope you enjoy or at least endure it greatly. 

Edge of a Blazing Sky is inspired by Gil Jamieson’s panorama “Jay Creek”.

I was deeply moved by the work’s fearsome scale and sense of contrast between land and sky – by its blazing sun, tall mountains, and rich red earth. This piece likewise incorporates bright and dark colour contrasts.

Transparent violin melodies dive and whistle above smudgy accompaniment, rapid passagework undergirds layers of slowly unfolding song lines, and hazy rhythmic figures are surprisingly recontextualised as joyful folk music. 

In doing so, the piece explores how great expanses can make us feel small, and the longing to come face-to-face with beauty beyond ourselves.