A table worth looking at
Margaret Preston and the things we learn to appreciate.
Sometimes the flowers decide the table. You bring home a bunch with a certain shade of pink, reach for a different cloth, and find yourself getting out the plates you had intended to save for Sunday.
It’s a satisfying business, putting things together. Choosing the vase that gives the stems room. Bringing an old piece of china into an arrangement that suddenly makes it look quite different. Knowing when the table is ready.
Some of this we work out for ourselves. Some we pick up through years of watching other people.
A mother who always cut something from the garden before guests arrived. A friend whose table you looked forward to sitting at. Someone who taught you, without ever making a lesson of it, that the way you welcome people is worth a little thought.
These are the kinds of inheritance that interest us at The Keep. An object might pass into our hands, but so can an appreciation, a habit or a way of doing things. We bring our own taste to what we’ve learnt, and eventually someone else is watching us.
Margaret Preston’s still lifes belong in this conversation.
Born in Port Adelaide in 1875, Preston worked across painting, printmaking, ceramics and textiles. Her travels and studies helped shape the bold colour and composition for which she became known. She gave flowers and domestic objects sustained attention, pursuing still life at a time when landscape dominated Australian art.
What draws us to these works is the recognition they invite. There is pleasure in seeing an artist give so much consideration to the kinds of things we choose, arrange and live with.
Her Australian flowers make that recognition particularly close to home. A bunch brought indoors connects the table to the place beyond the window. For those who grew up with garden cuttings in the house, it might also bring back the person who used to gather them.
Looking at Preston can prompt a fresh appreciation of that familiar gesture. There is always another combination to try, another branch that might look rather good in the tall vase.
Tea has its place in her work too. She painted The tea urn in Adelaide around 1909, followed by Still life with teapot, 1915, and The teapot cosy, 1916. She also made ceramics, including a cup and saucer decorated with gumtree flowers and leaves, now held by the Art Gallery of South Australia.
A teapot can carry quite a history of its own. You may know who chose it, whose table it stood on, how many people it served. Sometimes what survives most clearly is the habit around it: tea made when you arrived, a second cup poured while the conversation continued.
There is room to make these things our own. Inherited cups can sit happily beside plates we chose last year. A familiar pot can find its place on a very different table. Using what we have been given allows its story to continue in our company.
That is part of what we appreciate in returning to Preston’s domestic still lifes. They give us a reason to notice the things around us, and to remember where some of our pleasure in them began.
The next time someone admires the table, you might find yourself telling them about the person who gave you the jug. Or the one who taught you what to put in it.
For a closer look: Margaret Preston is showing at The Ian Potter Centre: NGV Australia, Federation Square, until 31 January 2027. The exhibition considers her work and its complex legacy, including responses from First Nations artists. Exhibition details and tickets.