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Mirtikanya (Mujupunkanu, Watchpoint Hill)

“This one here is Watchpoint Hill near to Jigalong, with all the sandhills and the walyji (river gums). We got warla (lakes) there too. Jigalong is where I grew up.”

 – Helen Dale Simpson

Mirtikanya is a hill and claypan close to Balfour Downs Station and north of Jigalong Aboriginal community, where Dale continues to live today. During the pujiman (traditional, desert dwelling) era, Mintikanya was primarily used as a camping site in the wantajarra (wet season), when the claypan filled with kapi (water).

Mirtikanya’s location close to Jigalong Mission made it a popular camping site for mission residents on the weekend. For many Martu Jigalong Mission was where their pujiman lifestyle came to an end from the late 1940s as they transitioned to a life as stockmen and women working in cattle stations in the Pilbara region and beyond. In the wake of the extreme and prolonged drought of the 1960s, the last of the remaining pujimanpa (desert dwellers) were forced to move to missions like Jigalong, where a supply of food and water was assured. There, many were reunited with family members that had already moved in from the desert.

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Nyilangkurr

Nyilangkurr is a group of three large tali (sandhills) located between Kartarru (Canning Stock Route Well 24) and Tiwa (Canning Stock Route 26), and just east of Wantili, an important creation site. Ngamaru grew up in the area around these sites and beyond; she knew this region intimately and travelled extensively here with her family in her youth.

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Untitled

This is Jatarr’s Country- her ‘ngurra’ (home Country, camp). People identify with their ngurra in terms of specific rights and responsibilities, and the possession of intimate knowledge of the physical and cultural properties of one’s Country. Painting ngurra, and in so doing sharing the Jukurrpa (Dreaming) stories and physical characteristics of that place, has today become an important means of cultural maintenance. 

Jatarr’s ngurra encompasses the Country that she and her family walked in the pujiman (traditional, desert-dwelling) era. At this time Jatarr travelled nomadically with her own and other family groups. The Country they traversed encompassed an enormous tract of land, all around the Karlamily (Rudall River) region and through to Tiwa (Canning Stock Route Well 26) .

Jatarr was born at Jartarrangara. She grew up, walked and hunted primarily around Pangkartal, Yalpalpa, Walirrlirri, Yanytikuji, Wartararra, Tintinmarran, Pulikati, Pimurlu, Raarki (Canning Stock Route Well 27), and Tiwa. Her family continued to live nomadically before eventually deciding to move to Jigalong Mission along with many other relatives following an extreme and prolonged drought in the 1960s. 

Portrayed in this work are features of Jatarr’s ngurra, such as the hills, gorges and valleys, warta (trees, vegetation), and the individually named water sources she and her family camped at. Rock holes, waterholes, soaks and springs were all extremely important sites for Martu people during the pujiman period, and are generally depicted with circular forms. 

The encyclopaedic knowledge of the location, quality and seasonal availability of the hundreds of water bodies found in one’s Country sustained Martu as they travelled across their Country, hunting and gathering, visiting family, and fulfilling ceremonial obligations. They would traverse very large distances annually, visiting specific areas in the dry and wet season depending on the availability of water and the corresponding cycles of plant and animal life on which hunting and gathering bush tucker was reliant. As they travelled and hunted they would also burn areas of Country, generating a greater diversity of plant and animal life.

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Untitled

How did you get to this style of painting?

“Do you mean, what have I done with my life? (chuckles to herself) To me these paintings are a sense of energy. So if I see someone and they’re happy, I paint a happy vibe. Cos their spirit is happy. And sometimes it’s hard because on the outside they’re real happy but on the inside they’re real sad. Sometimes you do stuff (like a painting) and it adds up later on. But I still don’t know what it means and don’t know where my style comes from because it’s both the path I walk on and the cracks in the dirt. It’s like looking at a landscape but I haven’t been there yet. Maybe I’ll get there one day. I believe things happen for a reason.”

– Sylvia Wilson

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Untitled

The Western Desert term jila is used interchangeably to describe springs considered to be ‘living’ waters and snakes, both of which play a central role in Martu culture and Jukurrpa (Dreaming).

During the pujiman (traditional, desert dwelling) period, knowledge of water sources was critical for survival, and today Martu Country is still defined in terms of the location of water sources. Of the many permanent springs in Martu Country, very few are ‘living waters’; waters inhabited by jila (powerful ancestral beings). Before they became snakes, these beings were men who made rain, formed the land and introduced cultural practices like ceremonies and ritual songs. Some of the men travelled the desert together, visiting one another, but they all ended their journeys at their chosen spring alone, transformed into a snake. These important springs are named after their jila inhabitant, guarding their waters. 

Some of the jila snakes are known by Martu as quiet and benevolent, others as dangerous and ‘cheeky’. Regardless of the nature of the inhabitant snake, jila sites must be entered respectfully; particular rituals are practiced, such as lighting fires, sweeping the ground with branches, approaching in single file, and calling out to the site’s jila to announce one’s arrival and introduce people who are new to the jila. Those who do not follow these guidelines are in danger of becoming sick, or even being killed.

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Untitled

How did you get to this style of painting?

“Do you mean, what have I done with my life? (chuckles to herself) To me these paintings are a sense of energy. So if I see someone and they’re happy, I paint a happy vibe. Cos their spirit is happy. And sometimes it’s hard because on the outside they’re real happy but on the inside they’re real sad. Sometimes you do stuff (like a painting) and it adds up later on. But I still don’t know what it means and don’t know where my style comes from because it’s both the path I walk on and the cracks in the dirt. It’s like looking at a landscape but I haven’t been there yet. Maybe I’ll get there one day. I believe things happen for a reason.”

– Sylvia Wilson

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Sunset and Stars

This work portrays an area known to the artist, painted here from memory. During the pujiman (traditional, desert dwelling) era one’s survival depended on their intimate knowledge of the location of resources; thus physical elements of Country, such as sources of kapi (water), tali (sandhills), and different varieties of warta (trees, vegetation) were carefully observed and remembered. Today, this relationship with Country remains equally strong, despite the movement of Martu out of the desert and into remote Aboriginal communities, towns and cities.

Also visible may be traces of life cycles based around kalyu (rain, water) and waru (fire). A thousands of year old practice, fire burning continues to be carried out as both an aid for hunting and a means of land management today. As the Martu travelled and hunted they would burn tracts of land, ensuring plant and animal biodiversity and reducing the risk of unmanageable, spontaneous bush fires. The patchwork nature of regrowth is visible in many landscape works, with each of the five distinctive phases of fire burning visually described with respect to the cycle of burning and regrowth.  

Finally, metaphysical information relating to a location may also be recorded; Jukurrpa (Dreaming) narratives chronicle the creation of physical landmarks, and can be referenced through depictions of ceremonial sites, songlines, and markers left in the land. 

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Untitled

This is Lorna’s Country- her ‘ngurra’ (home Country, camp). People identify with their ngurra in terms of specific rights and responsibilities, and the possession of intimate knowledge of the physical and cultural properties of one’s Country. Painting ngurra, and in so doing sharing the Jukurrpa (Dreaming) stories and physical characteristics of that place, has today become an important means of cultural maintenance. 

Though Lorna was born in the Port Hedland hospital and she attended school from a young age, she still lived a somewhat traditional pujiman (traditional, desert dwelling) lifestyle, travelling in the Country between Marble Bar and Roebourne with ‘nomad people’. Today Lorna lives in Warralong Aboriginal community, 50km north of Marble Bar.

Portrayed in this work are features of Lorna’s ngurra, such as the dominant permanent red tali (sandhills), warta (trees, vegetation), and the individually named water sources she and her family camped at.

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Untitled

How did you get to this style of painting?

“Do you mean, what have I done with my life? (chuckles to herself) To me these paintings are a sense of energy. So if I see someone and they’re happy, I paint a happy vibe. Cos their spirit is happy. And sometimes it’s hard because on the outside they’re real happy but on the inside they’re real sad. Sometimes you do stuff (like a painting) and it adds up later on. But I still don’t know what it means and don’t know where my style comes from because it’s both the path I walk on and the cracks in the dirt. It’s like looking at a landscape but I haven’t been there yet. Maybe I’ll get there one day. I believe things happen for a reason.”

– Sylvia Wilson

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Untitled

How did you get to this style of painting?

“Do you mean, what have I done with my life? (chuckles to herself) To me these paintings are a sense of energy. So if I see someone and they’re happy, I paint a happy vibe. Cos their spirit is happy. And sometimes it’s hard because on the outside they’re real happy but on the inside they’re real sad. Sometimes you do stuff (like a painting) and it adds up later on. But I still don’t know what it means and don’t know where my style comes from because it’s both the path I walk on and the cracks in the dirt. It’s like looking at a landscape but I haven’t been there yet. Maybe I’ll get there one day. I believe things happen for a reason.”

– Sylvia Wilson