{"id":10667,"date":"2020-05-12T07:26:02","date_gmt":"2020-05-12T07:26:02","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blogs.cervantes.es\/londres\/?p=10667"},"modified":"2020-06-11T13:34:53","modified_gmt":"2020-06-11T13:34:53","slug":"luke-stegemann-in-spain-i-discovered-a-europe-i-had-never-been-told-about","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blogs.cervantes.es\/londres\/2020\/05\/12\/luke-stegemann-in-spain-i-discovered-a-europe-i-had-never-been-told-about\/","title":{"rendered":"Luke Stegemann: \u00abIn Spain I discovered a Europe I had never been told about\u00bb"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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Luke Stegemann was born in Brisbane and raised in Queensland, southern New South Wales and the ACT. After first visiting Spain in 1984, he later spent long periods living in Madrid, Barcelona and Valencia. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stegemann has worked in media, publishing and higher education, and as a Spanish-English translator, in both Australia and Spain. He was formerly the managing editor of ‘The Adelaide Review’, and the founding editor of ‘The Melbourne Review’. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stegemann has written widely on Spanish art, history, culture and politics, and now lives and works in rural south-east Queensland. He continues to spend time each year in Spain. He has recently published The Beautiful Obscure<\/em>, a remarkable work which analyses aspects of Spanish cultural influence from an Australian viewpoint. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

In this conversation, Stegemann talks about synergies and divergences between both countries with past, present and future perspectives, all seen within the framework of his own love of both countries.
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The Beautiful Obscure<\/a><\/em><\/strong><\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

-In The Beautiful Obscure<\/a><\/em>, the discovery and the experience of Spain from your Australian background comes together with your reflection on the historical similarities, encounters and distances between both countries. The question is obvious: what attracts an Australian to Spain, back in the 80s?<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

In some respects it was fortuitous. Travelling around what was then \u2018western\u2019 Europe in the year after completing my first university degree, I had not planned to spend more than a few days in the north of Spain. Yet once inside the country, I felt an immediate attraction \u2013 unlike anything I felt, for example, in Greece, or Italy, France or Germany \u2013 and a planned two-three days became one month as I travelled ever deeper into the country. And this was 1984 \u2013 a Spain that has in many respects completely disappeared now. What I felt strongest \u2013 and I discuss this in some detail in the book \u2013 was a sense of discovering a Europe I had never been told about. It was as if an entire section of the continent, whose history I thought I had studied, had been hidden.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So the attraction was to the unknown, but it was not as simple as the classic \u2018orientalising\u2019 experience of \u2018the exotic\u2019. It was clear straight away that this was part of my own cultural heritage, part of the story of the continent of my ancestors. I immediately thought, \u201cHow did I not know this?\u201d and then, \u201cHow can I live here?\u201d When I returned to Australia and explained my plan to return to live in Spain as soon as possible \u2013 something I had never considered until then \u2013 my family and friends had no idea what I was talking about. Spain had not yet joined the EU, and was debating its entry into NATO. Two years later, and having armed myself with a second degree \u2013 this time in education \u2013 I returned to work initially as an English teacher. So began, with life in Spain in 1987, what has become the most significant chapter and influence on my adult life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One thing that is important for me is to emphasise that being Australian \u2013 as opposed to British or North American \u2013 I believe I bring a different perspective on Spanish history and culture. I come from \u2018the south\u2019, from the Pacific and from a European colony: all of these influence my manner of understanding Spain and its place in the world. No part of Australia was ever colonised by Spain (though it might have been), nor has Australia ever had any conflicts with Spain. In that sense, we have no \u2018history\u2019, no \u2018baggage\u2019 as companion countries. People often remark on the similarity (to some extent \u2013 it shouldn\u2019t be exaggerated) of character between Australians and Spaniards, an open friendliness and, I must say, a reputation for having a defiant attitude to authority, which is mostly fa\u00e7ade and not a reality! Certainly there is a determination in both countries to enjoy life, and fill it with as much pleasure as possible, albeit Australians are more socially conservative.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

-For centuries, Spain’s relationship with Australia seems to have been a story of frustration: despite maintaining a presence in the Pacific, neither the ships of the imperial adventure nor those of the scientific expeditions would find permanent accommodation on its coasts. Even in diplomatic and commercial terms, not a few opportunities were lost \u2026 \u00abYour schooling had somehow neglected Spain,\u00bb, said British Ted Hughes in a poem to his wife, the also poet, but American, Sylvia Plath. Has that also been the case in Australia? Are cliches the best allies of ignorance?<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

In Australia, Spain has always been neglected as a subject of political and historical study. Firstly, this was due for many years to Australia\u2019s imitation of British education with all its cultural and geopolitical prejudices; latterly because, having removed ourselves from the British imperial orbit, over the past four decades Australia has consciously positioned itself as a regional Asian power. For an \u2018Anglo\u2019 country, there is a very high level of \u2018Asia literacy\u2019 in Australia. Having said that, we stepped out from under the British umbrella to become a faithful, and somewhat subservient, ally of the Americans, whose culture has come to swamp so much of our own.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Spain is a popular tourist destination, though I despair of the number of Australians who believe that visiting Barcelona and San Sebastian constitutes \u2018visiting Spain\u2019. Time pressures weigh on tourists, of course, but so few take the opportunity to explore those regions that for me are a highlight of Spain: Madrid; the villages of Zamora, Soria and Segovia; the Maestrazgo; the hills of Jaen, the Tierra de Campos, and not forgetting the backroads of Toledo and Ciudad Real, through deepest Quixote territory\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Madrid is an interesting case in point. I\u2019ve always been fascinated by those foreigners who dislike Madrid, and express a strong preference for Barcelona, or even Valencia or San Sebastian. For me, Madrid is such a concentration of so many historical, cultural and political lines of influence, it is indispensable as a reference point. This is why I have looked to compare moments from the history of Madrid with Australia: two examples are those navigators, returned from the Pacific, spending years begging at the court of Phillip III for funds to return to discover what they sense is still there, and never quite making it\u2026 or Carlos III and the building of the Puerta de Alcal\u00e1: it arose in the very same years as the British were planning their penal colony at the bottom of the world, and of course the death of Carlos III in 1788, the same year the British founded Port Jackson, now Sydney.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For me these are not simply coincidences; they are parallel lines that flow through history, not necessarily touching at any point, but somehow bearing an influence on each other. This is why I felt the interweaving histories of Australia and Spain was a great, untold story.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But it is also interesting to consider the Ted Hughes poem you quote. For me it is a classic example of that mid-century north-Atlantic interpretation of Spain. A black and white Spain of Franco-era clich\u00e9s and orientalist essentialising, that has aged badly. This, if you\u2019ll permit me, is the view of Spain many Australians do not have, for we do not have those centuries of cultural comparison (and at times, of condescension). You\u2019ll have noticed that in a 435 page book about Spain, I have made no mention of football, or bullfighting, very little mention of \u2018blood and death\u2019, and only very few mentions of flamenco. This is not because I do not appreciate and enjoy the cultural uniqueness of how these things are performed in Spain (in particular, the cante jondo<\/em> tradition of flamenco) but I wanted to write a book that avoided all the usual staging posts for commentary on Spain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

(Incidentally, the question of the leyenda negra<\/em>: while trying to avoid the above clich\u00e9s, it is undeniable, at least in my cultural and political readings, of a certain dismissive tone towards Spain that I think runs through a lot of Anglo thinking. But to say so is to invite controversy. One can believe that Spain has been poorly treated by those who came after her, and who wrote their own versions of history as the \u2018cultural victors\u2019 whose influence extends so much into our contemporary world; you can see this, and understand it, without falling into Franco-like conspiracy theories, that a worldwide masonic and communist plot was out to destroy Spain. But I\u2019ve seen, with the recent debates around Roca Barea, that to flag up the leyenda negra<\/em> as something real, can get you tagged as reactionary, as Francoist\u2026!)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One other obvious question in writing this book: how to express a love for Spanish culture, and invite others to immerse themselves in it, without them having the access afforded by the language? (Because no matter how much we can translate, \u2018love\u2019 and \u2018amor\u2019 are not the same thing; \u2018evening\u2019 and \u2018atardecer\u2019 are not the same\u2026 they all carry the weight of their own cultural heritage, and to say one thing, is not the same as to say the other! I have recently been doing some short translations of the poetry of Miguel Hern\u00e1ndez into English, and it is enormously difficult to convey the sense of his words\u2026 the meaning, maybe, but the sense, the feeling\u2026 almost impossible!!) This is why I have made little mention of two of the greatest aspects of Spanish culture \u2013 its literature and its popular music \u2013 as they are difficult to access properly for foreigners. For this reason, I go in depth into the world of art, as a more universal language. Apart from the obvious masters Goya and Vel\u00e1zquez, I wanted people to know some of my favourite painters: Zurbur\u00e1n, Sorolla and Zuloaga. They tell me so much about Spain, and then specifically about Catholicism, or Valencia, or Castile. I also wanted to float a few \u2018controversial\u2019 opinions: I have never really liked the art of Dal\u00ed, or much of Picasso, or Gaud\u00ed. I have always preferred Ribera to Vel\u00e1zquez. These are just personal tastes. Other Spanish favourites are Juan de Juanes, Pedro Orrente, Luis Morales, Alonso Cano, the nineteenth century romantics and history painters\u2026 And perhaps above them all, for me, is El Greco. Truly, the greatest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

(And how often would I visit the Prado and find a room full of people crowding around Hieronymus Bosch \u2013 which is normal \u2013 but completely ignoring that singular masterpiece, on the opposite wall, which is Patinir\u2019s vision of Charon crossing the Styx!)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For me this concentration on what is largely, though not exclusively, religious art, is deliberate. We live in a time where the Catholic Church has suffered enormous reputational damage; in Australia this is very pronounced. I make the point in the book that to defend Catholicism is a hard sell nowadays in a secular and in many ways angry society. However there is (for someone raised Anglican like myself) a clear distinction between the Catholic Church as an institution, and Catholicism itself as a belief system which has been the driving force, or inspiration, for much of the greatest art and poetry of the last 500 or more years. It is this element of Catholicism I wish to celebrate; it is an aesthetic judgment, not a moral one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Luke Stegemann<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

– It is true that the first city in the world to dedicate a street to AC \/ DC was Spanish \u2026 but the lack of knowledge between the two countries seems to have been a shared passion: in Spain we also have our cliches about Australia.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I first lived in Spain the ignorance of Australia was almost total \u2013 and the same was true in Australia as regards Spain. I confess in the book how, as a young boy, I thought Seville was an Italian city\u2026 In the late 80s, when I was living in Madrid, the clich\u00e9 of \u2018Crocodile Dundee\u2019 took over \u2013 something which all Australians abroad had to live with for far too long! Over the years, this situation has changed dramatically, but Australia remains something of an unknown. The internet brings the whole world into view, but there are still questions about the nature of Australia: just how big is it really? Are there so many dangerous animals and insects? Is it still a British colony? How Asian is it? I think a lot of people are surprised by just how multicultural Australia is; the huge diversity of our population.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Another significant factor in overcoming this ignorance has occurred over the past decade: on the one hand, more and more young Australians make Spain an essential part of their international travels; while after the 2008 financial crisis, thousands of young Spaniards \u2013 above all highly skilled professionals \u2013 found work opportunities in Australia. This was something of a \u2018brain drain\u2019 for Spain, but Australia has benefitted enormously. Spaniards can often be found among the leading scientists and researchers in Australia today. Additionally, there are community networks of young Spanish people that simply did not exist 25 years ago.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

-Australia and Spain, even at different times, faced a similar question: what to do with the native populations, already in Australia, already in Spanish America \u2026<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yes, absolutely. But with at least two differences: firstly, in Australia this problem is still with us, despite the huge progress that has been made. In fact, many people would argue (and I would tend to agree) that the long, slow process of reconciliation with the Indigenous population remains Australia\u2019s greatest challenge as a nation. Secondly, in Australia the Indigenous presence is not part of an \u2018overseas empire\u2019 but forms part of the daily fabric of our nation. In fact, the development of Australia, as we know it, was only made possible by the displacement of the Indigenous culture, with not just the major loss of life but also the profound cultural loss of languages and knowledge of the land and its uses.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

While historical \u2018what might have beens\u2019 are of little practical use, I have always believed a Spanish colonisation of Australia, without being either better or worse, would have had different outcomes for the Indigenous population. There would have been significantly greater intermarriage, and a significantly greater effort made to record and preserve some of the approximately 200 languages that existed here prior to colonisation, the great majority of which have been lost. And of course, Spain would have colonised Australia around two centuries before the British, so European Australia would now be a country of some 400+ years, like the US, rather than around 230 years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

-The link or bilateral knowledge is surely more intense after the Civil War, in which there were Australians of both sexes. But also the art, to which you dedicate so many pages in his book, seems to have brought us closer, beyond Ted Hughes’ studies on Goya, until now \u201cthe\u201d Australian Hispanicist\u2026<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Firstly a small correction \u2013 I think you mean Robert Hughes in this case! It is interesting \u2013 I think his book on Goya was one of his finest, while I thought his book on Barcelona was one of his weakest (partly because it was really a book about Catalan modernism, which is fine, but Barcelona is much more than that; I thought it was obvious that outside of his specialist areas of art and modernism, he didn\u2019t really give a sense of having \u2018lived\u2019 Barcelona. In fact, it felt very much as though research assistants had done most of the work. I couldn\u2019t smell Barcelona, or hear her breathing in this book\u2026)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Perhaps what I\u2019ve said in the above paragraphs about art is sufficient. I would invite Spaniards, however, to explore Australian art, which is as diverse as the country itself. While Australian art has often followed European and North American trends, it has nevertheless brought a magnificent stable of artists onto the world stage. And also, of increasing importance to many Australians, of all backgrounds, is the diverse, original and profound world of Indigenous art. It represents, as much as anything, the triumph of the survival of our Indigenous peoples, and allows the non-Indigenous person a glimpse into their representations of ceremony, law, and the origins and nature of the world.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A final comment:<\/em> I\u2019ve said this in the book, and say it also whenever I talk about the book. Having spent 35+ years immersing myself into the Spanish universe has been enriching in more ways than I can recount, but above all, there is something else that I find hard to define, but which I know is true. It has made me a better person. This is perhaps true of all of us who learn to live across two cultures and two languages: we find ourselves wiser, more tolerant and, I hope, more compassionate persons. For this, I always say, and sincerely believe, that I am in debt to the Spanish people.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Luke Stegemann was born in Brisbane and raised in Queensland, southern New South Wales and the ACT. After first visiting Spain in 1984, he later spent long periods living in Madrid, Barcelona and Valencia. Stegemann has worked in media, publishing and higher education, and as a Spanish-English translator, in both Australia and Spain. He was […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":269,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[4,67],"tags":[1344,1338,1341,180],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.cervantes.es\/londres\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10667"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.cervantes.es\/londres\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.cervantes.es\/londres\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.cervantes.es\/londres\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/269"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.cervantes.es\/londres\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=10667"}],"version-history":[{"count":8,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.cervantes.es\/londres\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10667\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10818,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.cervantes.es\/londres\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10667\/revisions\/10818"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.cervantes.es\/londres\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=10667"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.cervantes.es\/londres\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=10667"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.cervantes.es\/londres\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=10667"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}