Connecting to Martu Country
I grew up on Beyondie Cattle Station, deep in Martu Country, where the red dirt stretched out endlessly, like a giant ocean that never ended. Days were filled with the scorching heat, the dust clinging to our skin, and nights were spent beneath a sky so vast and dark, the stars seemed close enough to touch. My granny would sit with us on the verandah, telling stories passed down through generations, weaving the history of our ancestors right into our hearts. These stories, filled with wisdom and laughter, became part of me and, later, my paintings.
Location of Beyondie Cattle Station
The actual Rabbit-Proof Fence ran just a stone’s throw from our homestead, right by the 494-mile peg, about 795 kilometres from where the fence began far to the south. My grandfather once rode its length as a boundary rider, checking and repairing fences along his lonely journey. Later, he built the original Beyondie homestead with my Granny, though that first house burnt down when my Aunty Eve accidentally set it alight. So they built it again, the second Beyondie homestead, where I spent my early childhood, growing up surrounded by the warmth and stories of my Granny and two uncles.
On the front Verandah with my Cousins, Beyondie Cattle Station, 1969
From the very start, art was my way of connecting to this land. Each brushstroke, each dot, feels like a step taken barefoot through the sand of the Western Desert. Now, when I paint, I’m not just recalling these stories; I’m living them again. The canvas becomes a place of memory and emotion, where the spirit of my family and our Martu heritage come alive.
Storytelling with a Playful Twist
When I tell these stories on canvas, they often arrive with humour and warmth; animals dressed up, dingoes in sunglasses, and rabbits peeking mischievously from corners of my paintings. I’ve always believed laughter helps us carry our stories further, making them easy to hold and share. Those cheeky rabbits aren’t disrespectful; they’re reminders of how resilience and joy can sit side by side, even in tough times.
Rabbit Proof Fence (484 Mile Peg), 2025
Acrylic on canvas – 75 x 75 cm, 29.5 x 29.5 in.
Colours of the Desert, Textures of Memory
The colours I choose aren’t random; they’re drawn straight from the desert. In the first photo, the vivid red dirt stands out brilliantly against the deep blue sky, capturing the fierce intensity of Martu Country. The other image shows the striking desert Sturt Pea, with its deep blacks and fiery reds contrasting against the cool greens of surrounding foliage. These are the colours etched into my memory—the reds, blacks, and vibrant hues of wildflowers thriving in harsh conditions. When I create textures and layer dots onto the canvas, it feels like pressing my fingers into the warm sand, feeling the ripples of dunes shaped by time and wind. Each painting becomes a landscape of memory, a reflection of the vivid beauty that surrounded my childhood.
Extremes of Land, Extremes of Life
The land I come from is a place of extremes, blistering heat that drains your strength by midday, but then cool, peaceful spots beneath the trees in sandy creek beds, hidden sanctuaries from the sun. Life here mirrors the land; unforgiving yet gentle, harsh yet nurturing.
Aboriginal culture itself holds these same extremes. At funerals, I’ve heard the hauntingly beautiful wailing of women, their songs comforting something deep inside me, touching my soul in ways words never could. There’s incredible beauty in these shared moments of grief and healing, in the rituals that bind our culture tightly together.
Yet, I’ve also known darker truths. While my childhood at Beyondie was free from family violence, later in my teens I experienced traumatic violence that left lasting marks, affecting my thoughts and actions to this day. It’s my belief that these extremes, beauty and pain, warmth and trauma, are deeply intertwined within Aboriginal culture and within us all. My art reflects these powerful contrasts, revealing that within each of us lie both darkness and light, strength and vulnerability.
Living and Creating Off-Country
Although Beyondie shaped my beginnings, most of my life has since been spent traveling and living away from Martu Country. Currently, I live in Woodstock, a small rural town in New South Wales, the longest I’ve ever stayed in one place. Here, my family and I have built a home, raising our six children, with one still at home. My studio is located in a beautiful old shop, a building that’s stood for a hundred years, where I create art that keeps me connected to my roots.
Even though I’m physically away from country, I maintain strong family ties and return whenever I can, particularly for important family gatherings and funerals. These journeys home ground me and renew my connection to the Martu spirit, enriching my art with renewed depth and perspective.
Resonating with All Audiences
It’s through these extremes and contrasts that my paintings often reach people on a deeper emotional level. Art can be a powerful way to communicate feelings that words alone can’t express, and I’ve seen how the honesty in my stories can open doors for others. People from all walks of life tell me about their own moments of struggle and joy, sharing how my paintings evoke memories, stir buried emotions, or trigger unexpected laughter.
My artwork isn’t just about my experiences, it becomes about theirs, too. I love seeing the spark of recognition in someone’s eyes when they connect with a piece, feeling seen or understood through an image or colour. Whether Indigenous or non-Indigenous, viewers often find common ground in themes of family, hardship, humour, and resilience.
Ultimately, my hope is simple: that when people look at my paintings, they feel the warmth of the desert sun on their skin, hear the echo of laughter from my Granny on that old verandah, and sense the profound strength within our stories. It’s this emotional bridge, crafted carefully from canvas, colour, memory, and shared humanity, that truly brings us all closer together.
