On our way out of Derby, we stopped at Mowanjum Art and Culture Centre, a 100% Aboriginal owned non-profit organisation that exhibits and sells local art, mainly traditional ochre paintings. The gallery was almost meditative in its opening hour. Hundreds of depictions of Wandjini covered all the walls, fixing hollow eyes upon me, and I felt I was being scrutinised. Wandjini doesn't have a mouth. Everything can be said in silence.
The Prison Tree is defaced with etchings of tourist names; I wondered if it was hypocritical to feel so infuriated by this, when I had been so mesmerised by the engravings at the Burrup Peninsula, which are really a sort of prehistoric graffiti. A group of obnoxious English backpackers had disregarded the sign at the perimeter that marked the mighty old Boab as a sacred site, and were posing inside its bulbous hollow in a most cliche manner. The sign warned that it was inhabited by spirits and snakes and i secretly hoped that one or the other might bite the larrikins.
A long time ago, the 'blackbirds' plucked the Looma people from their inland country, and took them to the coast, making them divers for pearls. Even out here, where Aboriginal groups are proud and their stories are strong, the people are displaced. Everywhere: the displaced.
No comments:
Post a Comment