Ŋanapurruŋgu Walumalaynha
our seasons, Our Time
Group exhibition
22 october–8 november

For the Yolŋu artists of Buku-Larrŋgay Mulka, to whom the principal tenet of art-making is ‘if you paint the land, then you must use the land', artworks are intrinsically and materially connected to country and what it provides. This also means that the cyclical passage of time and the changes in environment that come with it are deeply ingrained in what they make. Materials are not simply sourced from the land - they are harvested according to its rhythms. And so, it follows that each year as the seasons change in Yirrkala, the art centre seems to experience distinct seasons of its own.

When the rainy time comes to a close in Miḏawarr and the soft stringybark is easy to harvest, the art centre fills with new bark paintings, ripe for the busy tourist season to come. Then, when the heat of Rarrandharr’ makes the ground dry and firm and the termite-hollowed trees are within easy reach, the art centre becomes home to a freshly harvested forest of ḻarrakitj. And when the big storms and tides of Guṉmul wash up prize shells on homeland beaches, it follows that the art centre is soon adorned with painted shells and jewellery. You can almost tell what time of year it is by looking at the art around you.

For the artists of Ŋanapurruŋgu Walumalaynha, this seasonality goes deeper than just the material manifestation of their artwork. It is at the heart of the stories they tell – of ancestors who have lived through the same seasons on the same country for millennia.

Muluymuluy Wirrpanda’s ḻarrakitj are decorated with Buḻwutja, a water yam belonging to her Dhudi-Djapu clan, who sing the journey of the spirit woman Marrnyili moving across the Garraŋari floodplain in search of the treasured food. In his carvings, Mathuray Maymuru honours another ancestral woman, Nyapiliŋu, depicting her with her signature stringybark basket, which she carried on her head as she travelled through Maŋgalili country, plunging her digging stick into the earth, each time creating a spring of freshwater. Munhala Dhamarrandji’s barks hold the design for Batjimurruŋu, a saltwater shellfish which climbs the aerial roots of the mangroves amidst the rising tide in the story of the Djanka’wu sisters sung by her Djambarrpuyŋu clan. Datjuluma Guyula’s bark paintings refer to ancient rites of cleansing and renewal, her totemic Gunyan crabs a metaphor for Maŋgalili clan mortuary rituals of returning the body to the land. Djalpat Waṉambi carves the sugarbag man Wuyal, ancestor of the Marrakulu clan, who sought out the first homeland for his people, whose descendants still sing Dhaŋarra’, the stringybark flower as it blossoms each year, in remembrance of all the spirits who have gone before them and will bloom again.

It is also is around this time of year that the Yirrkala Print Space becomes a frenzy of activity in preparation for the upcoming Garma Festival and Gapaṉ Gallery, the culmination of a year’s worth of printmaking. The studio quietly thrives through every season, working year-round to cultivate emerging artists into distinguished printmakers, and yielding award-winning works on paper in the process.

Ŋanapurruŋgu Walumalaynha, Our Time brings together these different rhythms of time: the seasons of Yolŋu country, the enduring stories of ancestors, and the continuing practice of Yolŋu artists across generations.