The Bronze Fish at Tench Reserve: An Art and Connection

Saurav Kiran Shrestha

Anita took us on a 34-kilometer drive west from Blacktown to Tench Reserve in Penrith, where I eagerly awaited the installation of the "bronze fish" into a stone boulder. The bronze fish was my creation and a part of the Tench Reserve Public Art Program. Filled with excitement and curiosity, I stepped out of the car and made my way straight to the park. From the walkway, it was easy to spot the purposefully arranged stone boulders on the low ground, each adorned with specific designs. The scene was picturesque, with the evening golden light filtering through the foliage of the trees, and the serene blue Nepean River drifting silently in the background.

My 10-year-old daughter, Mumal and her friend, was thrilled to see the school of fish and eels fixed into the stones. Together, we rushed to find the fish with our initials on it, the one we could claim as our own. Eventually, Mumal was the one who discovered the fish with the initials "SKS" imprinted on its tail. She knew that the other side of the fish would bear the initials of her and mom Anita, which unfortunately remained unseen.

Seeing the final outcome of this project, a work I had never attempted before, was truly rewarding. I couldn't help but wonder if it was a mere coincidence or an unconscious desire to connect with the community and the land that I now call home, which drew me to this program. My involvement began with the Tench Reserve Public Art Workshops, which I attended on the afternoon of Saturday, August 6, 2022. Held at the Penrith Regional Gallery across the Nepean River from Tench Reserve, the workshops were led by Juan Pablo and Clary Akon. Over the course of the four-hour session, they presented the project, introduced us to the materials, tools, and techniques, demonstrated fish modeling using wax, and guided us as we started shaping our own fish with the wax.

It was fascinating to learn that the fish served not only as decorative elements in the park but also as a means of showcasing the Aboriginal history, culture, and the story of fish traps at the Nepean River and its surroundings. The Aboriginal Ngemba people refer to these fish traps as Ngunnhu. These intricate arrangements of river stones created ponds and channels that efficiently caught fish as they traveled downstream. Through the story of the fish trap, we gained a deeper understanding of Aboriginal food practices, food production, work, trade, and consumption in the Sydney region.

I also discovered that the fish I was modeling was called a flathead gudgeon, a species found in freshwater rivers. These fish generally grow to about 8 cm (3.2 in) in length and possess a large, flattened head with a wide mouth extending past the eyes, as well as two short dorsal fins. Their upper parts can be various shades of grey, brown, black, or yellowish, while their underparts tend to be yellowish. In spring, the female lays 500 to 1000 elongated eggs on a hard surface, which are then carefully guarded by the male.

After the workshop session, we were allowed to take our wax fish models home to complete the task. At home, I worked on my wax model while Mumal and Anita observed me, usually in the afternoons. It was a fun experience, and I thoroughly enjoyed working on it in the comfort of my own home.

The second session was scheduled for August 13, 2022. During the second session, the artist trainers taught us various techniques for adding details to our fish, such as scales, fins, and other distinguishing features.

The highlight of the session was stamping our initials onto the fish as a signature. This exciting moment marked the permanence of our presence, as our initials would forever be etched onto the fish and symbolically connected to the banks of the Nepean River. I felt it was important to establish and feel our existence in this new place we now call home, so I imprinted my initials, SKS, on one side of the fish, while Anita's initials, AS (Anita Shrestha), and Mumal's initials, MS (Mumal Shrestha), on the other side.

Afterwards, the wax fish models were handed over to the organizers. I extend my gratitude to Elissa Macpherson (the Business Operations Officer, Open Space Team, Infrastructure Policy, Department of Planning and Environment) for her support and constant communication throughout the process. She informed us that the modelling fishes would soon be collected from other participants and artists involved in the project, and that the wax models would be sent to Crawford Casting. There, a silicone mold would be made for the larger fish, while the small wax fish would be prepared for casting on trees.

In September 2022, Elissa sent an email notifying us that the boulders had been anchored and would be set in place in the coming days. CaveUrban would be responsible for positioning the fish onto the boulders. If available, we were given the opportunity to attend the site and assist Juan Pablo in finding the perfect location and position for our fish.

Though I'm uncertain if any participants were able to assist Juan with fish positioning, in October 2022, Elissa informed us that the project's progress had been delayed due to rain and a flood warning for the Nepean River, which resulted in the delay of the project activities. Additionally, due to major construction in the area, workshop participants were not allowed onto the worksite. An immersive walkway was being excavated next to the site, and heavy machinery was constantly moving about. It was advised that the walkway would enhance the art experience.

After a long interval, a visit to the foundry was scheduled for a small group on February 21, 2023. Despite the scorching Sydney heat, I made my way to Crawford's Casting in Strathfield wearing closed leather shoes, a long-sleeved cotton shirt, and non-synthetic pants. We were instructed not to touch anything and to assume that everything was hot. To respect the privacy of other artists' work, we were prohibited from taking photographs of their artwork.

Witnessing the inner workings of the foundry was truly awe-inspiring. I observed as they melted bronze and poured the scorching hot liquid metal into the casting tree, witnessing the emergence of the bronze fish from within. It was a breathtaking moment, incredibly satisfying to behold. I couldn't wait to return home and share those precious moments with Mumal and Anita. I took a few photos and videos of the process, capturing the magic.

Finally, in the third week of May, I received an email from Elissa, bringing news that I had been eagerly awaiting. Her email read as follows: "The Public Art at Tench Reserve, 'Story Trap,' is now completed. CaveUrban, with the help of all of you, has created a visually stunning piece of art that reflects the area's connection to the First Nations People of the Darug Nation and the Nepean River. The community fish now swim in schools, keeping Clary's large fish and eels company. The dappled light illuminates different areas of the art during the day, bringing the fish to life. I encourage you to visit Tench Reserve and search for your fish."

I wholeheartedly agreed with Elissa's sentiments. The school of fish truly resonated with me, and I had already made plans to revisit the site with more friends. I highly recommend visiting Tench Reserve, not just for the fish trap, but for the entire reserve park. It is an experience that is truly worthwhile.