Jillian Fitzpatrick | INTERTIDAL
Trocadero Projects, Footscray, Naarm
10.04.2025—11.05.2025

INTERTIDAL offers the story of the eel and the cormorant, using the intertidal zone as both a concept and a conduit for their journey. The eel moves from the river to the sea, with the intertidal zone as a space of transitioning. The cormorant watches from above, offering a window into this migration and the depths of the ocean. The ocean has long been a source of inspiration and reverence, much of it still unknown. INTERTIDAL invites you into this threshold, where survival and adaptation unfold in an intricate dance between the land and the sea.

The eel is the ultimate storyteller. Its migration remains enigmatic. Anguilla eels specifically have been a focus of wonder and reverence for thousands of years. The idea of spontaneous generation was furthered by eels due to their lack of reproductive organs. Fishermen believed eels came from water itself. However, once ready to spawn, Anguilla eels undergo what is known as the silvering process, or their final metamorphosis: their skin darkens for better camouflage, their eyes grow larger, their digestive system stops functioning and their reproductive organs begin to mature. The migratory patterns of these eels are crucial for this process to be successful and for adult eels to mature and prepare for breeding. Humans haven't been able to successfully mimic the conditions that eels require to complete this process or to have witnessed spawning in the wild. As they migrate from freshwater bodies to the Coral Sea, travelling thousands of kilometers in their final transformation, the intertidal zone becomes their conduit— their last link to land, and the threshold of their final transition.

The cormorant as the observer of the intertidal zone. The Australian pied cormorant is a non-migratory species often remaining in the same estuaries in which it has lived for generations sedentary, like a heavy seed. With wings adapted for air and water, the cormorant exists across these landscapes. Its feathers have less oil than other seabirds, allowing them to soak up water and, in turn, dive deeper due to reduced buoyancy. This is why, unlike other seabirds, they can often be seen drying their feathers in the sun. Living between land and sea, they have long been regarded as creatures of the in-between. In Norse mythology, cormorants were seen as watchers at the edge of the world and as spiritual messengers. In the reflection of the bird's eye is the rocky intertidal zone where species survive the extremes of land meeting sea by hiding below rocks and in crevices. Emblematic of their ever-shifting nature, more than half of these environments have disappeared globally. The cormorant is a constant in this ever-changing environment, a silent observer.

The first of a set of three underwater paintings inspired by the work of Austrian naturalist Eugen von Ransonnet-Villez (b. 1838) captures a luminous landscape. The light spills through the gaps between jetty pylons, casting down shadows like thick tree trunks stabilising the scene within this sandy water column. Agitated sand causes light to flow differently. A seagrass bed either diminishing or establishing, somewhere in its cyclical stage. The eel, leaving the intertidal zone behind, rebeginning a journey it's been on before, now in reverse. A memory held in muscles and in rhizomes.

The second underwater painting in this set is more closely tied to the work of Ransonnet-Villez. Ransonnet-Villez captured the first ever in situ documentation of the underwater landscape. He had a custom diving bell made so that he could sit on the ocean floor whilst doing his initial sketches. Similar to other early scientific demonstrations of nature, the subject is embellished, forming a strange and surreal reality. Making the scene look somewhat off, kind of gaudy. While Ransonnet-Villez's scene was grounded in early scientific observation, my painting leans into the theatrical. Anemones and feather stars dance, and the scene is set with each actor on stage, pufferfish and toadfish front and centre, and so the story plays out. The cormorant sits on the water’s surface, watching from above.

The third underwater landscape in this set goes a little deeper and into a giant kelp forest. Amidst the declining kelp, an urchin barren consumes the holdfasts, revealing a system that is out of balance. Hungry hands have taken the lobsters, leaving behind the urchins to multiply. Piercing through a school of baitfish, the cormorant dives into depths that many don't see, diving up to 40 m on a single breath. Where stories are still unfolding, each species is enacting its own version of survival, the urchins feeding, kelp holding on, cormorant hunting and baitfish scattering. The eel has disappeared.

And the Ouroboros not quite connected, but still the final painting of this show. Of unreal lengths the eel turns and writhes, what happens here we can only imagine. We're limited by what we know and what we can understand and what we have known for thousands of years we may continue to unknow. Yet despite us, the cyclical nature of life continues within the declination of these systems. A final full stop to this story.

Documented by Ruben Bull-Milne