Yalpirakinu is Adrian’s mother’s country. Adrian’s mother is the late Eunice Napangardi, a well known painter herself. His artworks consistently refer to the desert mountains, ridges and trees which are part of Yalpirakinu. Using a restricted colour palette, Adrian’s brushwork is loaded with energy, drama and memories. He is a deliberate and thoughtful painter; reworking, pushing and pulling the image to completion.
Yalpirakinu is Adrian’s mother’s country. Adrian’s mother is the late Eunice Napangardi, a well known painter herself. His artworks consistently refer to the desert mountains, ridges and trees which are part of Yalpirakinu. Using a restricted colour palette, Adrian’s brushwork is loaded with energy, drama and memories. He is a deliberate and thoughtful painter; reworking, pushing and pulling the image to completion.
Yalpirakinu is Adrian’s mother’s country. Adrian’s mother is the late Eunice Napangardi, a well known painter herself. His artworks consistently refer to the desert mountains, ridges and trees which are part of Yalpirakinu. Using a restricted colour palette, Adrian’s brushwork is loaded with energy, drama and memories. He is a deliberate and thoughtful painter; reworking, pushing and pulling the image to completion.
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.
“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.
“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.
“It’s pretty much the line of thought of my family. So that’s my daughter and then my granny- ‘Nan Nan’ they call her- and then my mum, SW. And that’s my nanna LM. It’s pretty much the line of where I’m from. That connection and family tree.”
– Sylvia Wilson
This work is one of a series by Sylvia Wilson entitled ‘Mum, The Boss, My Daughter and the Wanti (Woman, Girl).’ As Sylvia explains, the work is both a depiction of, and attribute to, the women in her family heritage.
The Martu term for family, walytja, encapsulates a broader idea of relatedness that permeates every aspect of life. The Martu four-section kinship system determines a person as belonging to either the Purungu, Milangka, Panaka or Karrimarra skin group, and was created by the Jukurrpa (Dreaming) ancestors.
This system not only defines relationships, it also establishes a framework for expectations and obligations, and extends the importance of family far beyond mere blood or marriage ties. Family is not limited to blood connections; it encompasses all relationships within the entire community, forming a network of relationships that was crucial to survival during the pujiman (traditional, desert dwelling) era, and that remains fundamental to Martu life today. The kinship system allows everyone to know what expectations one person can have in relation to another, and means that familial terms and relationships are present between any two individuals, whether or not they are related by blood.
“It’s pretty much the line of thought of my family. So that’s my daughter and then my granny- ‘Nan Nan’ they call her- and then my mum, SW. And that’s my nanna LM. It’s pretty much the line of where I’m from. That connection and family tree.”
– Sylvia Wilson
This work is one of a series by Sylvia Wilson entitled ‘Mum, The Boss, My Daughter and the Wanti (Woman, Girl).’ As Sylvia explains, the work is both a depiction of, and attribute to, the women in her family heritage.
The Martu term for family, walytja, encapsulates a broader idea of relatedness that permeates every aspect of life. The Martu four-section kinship system determines a person as belonging to either the Purungu, Milangka, Panaka or Karrimarra skin group, and was created by the Jukurrpa (Dreaming) ancestors.
This system not only defines relationships, it also establishes a framework for expectations and obligations, and extends the importance of family far beyond mere blood or marriage ties. Family is not limited to blood connections; it encompasses all relationships within the entire community, forming a network of relationships that was crucial to survival during the pujiman (traditional, desert dwelling) era, and that remains fundamental to Martu life today. The kinship system allows everyone to know what expectations one person can have in relation to another, and means that familial terms and relationships are present between any two individuals, whether or not they are related by blood.
“It’s pretty much the line of thought of my family. So that’s my daughter and then my granny- ‘Nan Nan’ they call her- and then my mum, SW. And that’s my nanna LM. It’s pretty much the line of where I’m from. That connection and family tree.”
– Sylvia Wilson
This work is one of a series by Sylvia Wilson entitled ‘Mum, The Boss, My Daughter and the Wanti (Woman, Girl).’ As Sylvia explains, the work is both a depiction of, and attribute to, the women in her family heritage.
The Martu term for family, walytja, encapsulates a broader idea of relatedness that permeates every aspect of life. The Martu four-section kinship system determines a person as belonging to either the Purungu, Milangka, Panaka or Karrimarra skin group, and was created by the Jukurrpa (Dreaming) ancestors.
This system not only defines relationships, it also establishes a framework for expectations and obligations, and extends the importance of family far beyond mere blood or marriage ties. Family is not limited to blood connections; it encompasses all relationships within the entire community, forming a network of relationships that was crucial to survival during the pujiman (traditional, desert dwelling) era, and that remains fundamental to Martu life today. The kinship system allows everyone to know what expectations one person can have in relation to another, and means that familial terms and relationships are present between any two individuals, whether or not they are related by blood.