August 2025

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Ngurra (home Country, camp)

“Ngurra (home Country, camp) is a very special Country- where we grew up. We go mostly out on Country and camp out. We go swimming and looking for honey on the trees. We would hunt turkey, emu, kangaroo, look for bardi (witchetty grub), honey ants, yellow berries. It’s an outstation. We call it home. We grew up there. Good memories of that place.” 

– Roxanne Newberry 

The Western Desert term ‘ngurra’ is hugely versatile in application. Broadly denoting birthplace and belonging, ngurra can refer to a body of water, a camp site, a large area of Country, or even a modern house. 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. This knowledge is traditionally passed intergenerationally through family connections. Country for Martu is full of memory; not just the memory of their own movement through it, but also of their family. As summarised by Ngalangka Nola Taylor, “painting the ngurra, they do it to remember their connections.” 

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. Physical maintenance of one’s ngurra, like cultural maintenance, ensures a site’s wellbeing, and is a responsibility of the people belonging to that area.

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Ngurra (home Country, camp)

“Ngurra (home Country, camp) is a very special Country- where we grew up. We go mostly out on Country and camp out. We go swimming and looking for honey on the trees. We would hunt turkey, emu, kangaroo, look for bardi (witchetty grub), honey ants, yellow berries. It’s an outstation. We call it home. We grew up there. Good memories of that place.” 

– Roxanne Newberry 

The Western Desert term ‘ngurra’ is hugely versatile in application. Broadly denoting birthplace and belonging, ngurra can refer to a body of water, a camp site, a large area of Country, or even a modern house. 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. This knowledge is traditionally passed intergenerationally through family connections. Country for Martu is full of memory; not just the memory of their own movement through it, but also of their family. As summarised by Ngalangka Nola Taylor, “painting the ngurra, they do it to remember their connections.” 

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. Physical maintenance of one’s ngurra, like cultural maintenance, ensures a site’s wellbeing, and is a responsibility of the people belonging to that area.

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Mungili Waterholes and Rockholes

“No one goes there and sees that landscape. Only two, Mr and Mrs [refers to footsteps in painting]. They was walking to see if the water was in there. Walking on the creek sand, they see the colours and walk down to the water hole and dig where the waters been left. Dig the creek sand where there is still water. Little huts where they sit; move when it dries out. Leave remembrance behind. When the water fills up again; come back.

When the creek sand is still moist you can see the colours. You can see many colours – lovely colours come out. I do that in my mind [when painting], go and think about the rock colours there.

Different plants, water runs, and different plants are growing, different seeds. When it rains, all year round, when its overflowing. It’s all connected. The orange sand connects to one waterhole full of water, then flowing through the creek sand. This side down [pointing to one rock hole]; and it’s a bit up [pointing to another rock hole].

I was swimming there. Yeah, we go visit them a long time [ago]. We drink it, rainwater from the rain. Big waterhole. It’s a fresh water, when the rain comes, fills it up. One for swimming and another rock hole for drinking. 3 rock holes; another is special.”

– Marlene Anderson

In this work Marlene depicts a waterhole and rock hole located in Mungili, the small outstation community located just off the Eagle Highway in Western Australia, approximately 430 kilometres northeast of Wiluna and 250 kilometres north of Warburton. Marlene grew up in Mungili, and as such it forms a significant part of her ‘ngurra’ (home Country, camp). Typically Marlene depicts this site with a central large circular form that represents the main waterhole, surrounded by smaller circular forms representing satellite water bodies.

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 and type of water. Each of the hundreds of claypans, rockholes, waterholes, soaks and springs found in the Martu desert homelands is known through real life experience and the recounting of Jukurrpa (Dreaming) narratives by name, location, quality and seasonal availability. This encyclopedic knowledge extends even to the nature and movement of arterial waterways, and 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.

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Two Worlds

“This painting is about my experience being a Martu woman, in the body of a Martu, but I was brought up different. Growing up in a whitefella way. If I wasn’t adopted, what would I be? There’s so many words- adoption, fostered, taken… but I wasn’t taken. My mum just wanted the best life for me. I got educated. Walking in two worlds, being black and white. When you actually walk it, it’s a different feeling. It’s daunting. You don’t get a handbook of how to be Martu when you come back to Country. Identity is a big issue. I’ve always just been me- but then I learned more about how Martu culture is so strong. 

I try to stay grounded, and at the same time keep educating myself. I’m learning every day.”

 – Sylvia Wilson

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Honey Ants

“I was born in Meekatharra, moved to Wiluna when I was a young girl. Out in Mungili on my family’s country, we would hunt for honey ants and witchety grubs. When searching for honey ants we would find the nest and dig down near it, not to far in the ground. After rain, there was lots of them.”

– Rebecca Anderson

 

Wuukurta (honey ants) are found in a variety of arid or semiarid environments, with nests of up to two metres deep and more than two metres across. Wuukurta are a highly sought after bush tucker, known otherwise as ‘bush lollies’ due to their sweet, honey like taste. They are eaten whilst still alive by holding the head and legs between two fingers and biting off the thorax. Martu dig for wuukurta nests through the seasons, but they are known to be especially abundant following the rains.

During the pujiman (traditional, desert dwelling) period, Martu would traverse very large distances annually in small family groups, moving seasonally from water source to water source, and hunting and gathering bush tucker as they went. Whilst desert life has moved away from mobile hunter-gatherer subsistence throughout the course of the twentieth century, bush tucker continues to be a significant component of the modern Martu diet. Hunting and gathering bush tucker remains equally valuable as an important cultural practice that is passed on intergenerationally. Though hunting and gathering implements have been modernised, methods of harvesting, tracking and the use of fire burning to drive animals from their retreats are still commonly practiced today.

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Two Worlds

“This painting is about my experience being a Martu woman, in the body of a Martu, but I was brought up different. Growing up in a whitefella way. If I wasn’t adopted, what would I be? There’s so many words- adoption, fostered, taken… but I wasn’t taken. My mum just wanted the best life for me. I got educated. Walking in two worlds, being black and white. When you actually walk it, it’s a different feeling. It’s daunting. You don’t get a handbook of how to be Martu when you come back to Country. Identity is a big issue. I’ve always just been me- but then I learned more about how Martu culture is so strong. 

I try to stay grounded, and at the same time keep educating myself. I’m learning every day.”

 – Sylvia Wilson

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Untitled

“When Martu paint, it’s like a map. Martu draw story on the ground and on the canvas, and all the circle and line there are the hunting areas and different waters and tracks where people used to walk, and [some you] can’t cross, like boundaries. So nowadays you see a colourful painting and wonder what it is, but that’s how Martu tell story long ago. It’s not just a lovely painting, it’s a story and a songline and a history and everything that goes with it.” 

– Ngalangka Nola Taylor and Joshua Booth

This work portrays an area of Country that can be interpreted in multiple ways. Firstly, the image may be read as an aerial representation of a particular location known to the artist- either land that they or their family travelled, from the pujiman (traditional, desert dwelling) era to now. During the pujiman period, Martu would traverse very large distances annually in small family groups, moving seasonally from water source to water source, and hunting and gathering bush tucker as they went. At this time, 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), different varieties of warta (trees, vegetation), ngarrini (camps), and jina (tracks) are typically recorded with the use of a use of a system of iconographic forms universally shared across the desert. 

An additional layer of meaning in the work relates to more intangible concepts; life cycles based around kalyu (rain, water) and waru (fire) are also often evident. 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 evident 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. Very often, however, information relating to Jukurrpa is censored by omission, or alternatively painted over with dotted patterns.

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Untitled

“When Martu paint, it’s like a map. Martu draw story on the ground and on the canvas, and all the circle and line there are the hunting areas and different waters and tracks where people used to walk, and [some you] can’t cross, like boundaries. So nowadays you see a colourful painting and wonder what it is, but that’s how Martu tell story long ago. It’s not just a lovely painting, it’s a story and a songline and a history and everything that goes with it.” 

– Ngalangka Nola Taylor and Joshua Booth

This work portrays an area of Country that can be interpreted in multiple ways. Firstly, the image may be read as an aerial representation of a particular location known to the artist- either land that they or their family travelled, from the pujiman (traditional, desert dwelling) era to now. During the pujiman period, Martu would traverse very large distances annually in small family groups, moving seasonally from water source to water source, and hunting and gathering bush tucker as they went. At this time, 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), different varieties of warta (trees, vegetation), ngarrini (camps), and jina (tracks) are typically recorded with the use of a use of a system of iconographic forms universally shared across the desert. 

An additional layer of meaning in the work relates to more intangible concepts; life cycles based around kalyu (rain, water) and waru (fire) are also often evident. 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 evident 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. Very often, however, information relating to Jukurrpa is censored by omission, or alternatively painted over with dotted patterns.

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Two Worlds

“This painting is about my experience being a Martu woman, in the body of a Martu, but I was brought up different. Growing up in a whitefella way. If I wasn’t adopted, what would I be? There’s so many words- adoption, fostered, taken… but I wasn’t taken. My mum just wanted the best life for me. I got educated. Walking in two worlds, being black and white. When you actually walk it, it’s a different feeling. It’s daunting. You don’t get a handbook of how to be Martu when you come back to Country. Identity is a big issue. I’ve always just been me- but then I learned more about how Martu culture is so strong. 

I try to stay grounded, and at the same time keep educating myself. I’m learning every day.”

 – Sylvia Wilson

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Water Flow

“When I paint with these colours and in this style, it reminds me of when I was back in Bidgydanga, watching the water and currents flow.”

– Ciarn Dean-Bullen

 

“When Martu paint, it’s like a map. Martu draw story on the ground and on the canvas, and all the circle and line there are the hunting areas and different waters and tracks where people used to walk, and [some you] can’t cross, like boundaries. So nowadays you see a colourful painting and wonder what it is, but that’s how Martu tell story long ago. It’s not just a lovely painting, it’s a story and a songline and a history and everything that goes with it.” 

– Ngalangka Nola Taylor and Joshua Booth

This work portrays an area of Country that can be interpreted in multiple ways. Firstly, the image may be read as an aerial representation of a particular location known to the artist- either land that they or their family travelled, from the pujiman (traditional, desert dwelling) era to now. During the pujiman period, Martu would traverse very large distances annually in small family groups, moving seasonally from water source to water source, and hunting and gathering bush tucker as they went. At this time, 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), different varieties of warta (trees, vegetation), ngarrini (camps), and jina (tracks) are typically recorded with the use of a use of a system of iconographic forms universally shared across the desert. 

An additional layer of meaning in the work relates to more intangible concepts; life cycles based around kalyu (rain, water) and waru (fire) are also often evident. 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 evident 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. Very often, however, information relating to Jukurrpa is censored by omission, or alternatively painted over with dotted patterns.