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Mungili Claypan

“When I was young, [I would] walk around, play around, slide around on the mud. [At Mungili, there’s a] Big one [claypan] and little ones on the side. And the white gums, [where] we would get witchetty grubs”

– Marlene Anderson

In this work Marlene depicts a claypan located in Mungili, the small outstation community situated just off the Eagle Highway in Western Australia. Mungili lies 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 claypan, surrounded by smaller circular forms symbolising 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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Tuwa (sandhills) in Puntawarri

“I do tuwa (sandhill) in my own style because that’s our Country. That’s a sandhill, that’s the Dreaming- the Jukurrpa. That’s our culture.

They stay there and we go through the sandhills at Puntawarri in the car. We go first tuwa, then the second tuwa, looking for the waterholes. Go up, up, up- ‘nother tuwa, ‘nother tuwa.

Long time [ago] in Puntawarri, when I was a little girl [with] my Nana and Pop [Dadda Samson (dec.) and Yanjimi Peter Rowlands (dec.)] we went climbing up the sandhill. And when I went up my Nana and Pop were at the bottom under a tree and I came down running then rolling, rolling right down to the ground! But I was ok- he right!”

– Judith Anya Samson

Puntawarri is an important cultural area located on the middle stretches of the Canning Stock Route and east of the Jigalong Mission (now Jigalong Aboriginal community), where Anya grew up with her grandmother and renowned Martumili Artist, Dadda Samson (dec.). Puntawarri is also the site of an abandoned community, a waterhole, creek and lake. Puntawarri’s close proximity to Jigalong Mission made it a popular site for Martu to visit during the ‘mission days’. While growing up at Jigalong Mission in the 1960’s, Dadda would return to Puntawarri every weekend to hunt and camp. 

For many Martu, like Anya’s family, Jigalong Mission was the site where their pujiman (traditional, desert dwelling) 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 Martu were reunited with family members that had already moved in from the desert.

The traditional lands of the Martu people encompass the Great Sandy Desert and Rudall River regions of Western Australia, an enormous tract dominated by distinctive red tali, or tuwa (sandhills). These sandhills present an unforgiving landscape; sparse vegetation covers a seemingly never ending expanse of dunes, and yet these lands and the location of resources within them was known intimately by its pujiman inhabitants.

 

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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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Status: Stock


A4 ‘Kakan (Black Palm) Dilly Bags with Pippies 4’ by Margaret Rocky

Our ancestors used Kakan (Black Palm) dilly bags to carry food when out hunting and gathering or soak bitter yams in creeks before cooking them. They were also used to hold personal items.

When I was a young girl my grandmother would teach me how to make Black Palm dillybags. We used to set up camp with other Kuku Yalanji women at a creek near Helenvale. It is very hard work. The men would help us cutting down the palm trees and separate the crownshaft from the trunk and the leaves. Then the women used to peel away the outer leaves until they felt strong threads they could pull out. They cleaned these threads from pulp with a mussel shell. When we moved away from Helenvale I forgot how to make them. Luckily years later I asked a relative of mine, Wilma Walker, who is great weaver, if she could refresh my memories. From then on I kept making dillybags as long as my health allowed it. I really enjoyed making them.

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Status: Stock


A3 ‘Kakan (Black Palm) Dilly Bags with Pippies 4’ by Margaret Rocky

Our ancestors used Kakan (Black Palm) dilly bags to carry food when out hunting and gathering or soak bitter yams in creeks before cooking them. They were also used to hold personal items.

When I was a young girl my grandmother would teach me how to make Black Palm dillybags. We used to set up camp with other Kuku Yalanji women at a creek near Helenvale. It is very hard work. The men would help us cutting down the palm trees and separate the crownshaft from the trunk and the leaves. Then the women used to peel away the outer leaves until they felt strong threads they could pull out. They cleaned these threads from pulp with a mussel shell. When we moved away from Helenvale I forgot how to make them. Luckily years later I asked a relative of mine, Wilma Walker, who is great weaver, if she could refresh my memories. From then on I kept making dillybags as long as my health allowed it. I really enjoyed making them.

 

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Status: Stock


A5 ‘Makarr (Fish Trap) 1’ by Vanessa Cannon

Fish traps are called Makarr in our language. They were made by men only. Our fathers and uncles used to make them with the lawyer vine. They stripped the stems and then soaked them in the river to keep them soft and bendy. They also had a special way of weaving the fish traps. They used them in the river to catch eels, jungle perch, fresh water catfish and turtle. To attract fish our old people used to sprinkle rain forest berries as bait over the trap.

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Status: Stock


A4 ‘Makarr (Fish Trap) 1’ by Vanessa Cannon

Fish traps are called Makarr in our language. They were made by men only. Our fathers and uncles used to make them with the lawyer vine. They stripped the stems and then soaked them in the river to keep them soft and bendy. They also had a special way of weaving the fish traps. They used them in the river to catch eels, jungle perch, fresh water catfish and turtle. To attract fish our old people used to sprinkle rain forest berries as bait over the trap.

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Status: Stock


A3 ‘Makarr (Fish Trap) 1’ by Vanessa Cannon

Fish traps are called Makarr in our language. They were made by men only. Our fathers and uncles used to make them with the lawyer vine. They stripped the stems and then soaked them in the river to keep them soft and bendy. They also had a special way of weaving the fish traps. They used them in the river to catch eels, jungle perch, fresh water catfish and turtle. To attract fish our old people used to sprinkle rain forest berries as bait over the trap.