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I felt compelled to document through art the profound impact that whole period had on me, my family and also the Brisbane and communities around the country. A feeling of love and support from people far and wide empowered us to share Aunty Sherry’s story. We are still waiting for our Coronial Inquest due this year to be confirmed but watch this black space.
I was asked to paint this little art piece that represents all black lives lost since the Recommendations of the Royal Commission into black deaths in custody was implemented in 1991.
This art piece “Bundjalung Wulburmor” Byron country is a celebration of my connection to the richness and diversity of the lush mountainous landscapes, the winding rivers & healing seas. It’s a dreaming place that has brought together winds of musical exchanges and ceremonies for me over many years at the Byron Bay Blues & Roots Festival and surrounding areas.
There’s a sacred place in the heart of my beautiful Gugu Yalanji country that I wanted to attempt to landscape its natural beauty.
This beautiful art landscape is a journey of survival, mental warfare where spiritual torment was a day to day battle in the valley of darkness, and malevolent entities would come and antagonise in my time of vulnerability. Over time my mental strength started to sharpen and the darkness slowly disappeared to reveal ethereal colours, illuminating my beautiful (wawu) old spirits orbing all around my room pushing me to the light. My scar in the middle of this landscape is my testimony of survival between those 2 worlds, my true initiation.
When you leave the old country to return to the concrete world, you feel a sense of belonging and strong identity after swimming in the banawurun (rivers) where the stars kiss the sand (dawara). I always take that ceremony and healing powers where ever I travel with my music and arts, the many spears the universe swings my way in terms of my trials and tribulations, I always return to that sacred moment in time up with all my family in particular my son wawu waluwulkurun.
This was a commissioned piece for a dear friend whose late father was one of Jungaji’s favourite teachers at Inala High School in the early 1990s.
Is a story of love, respect and honour between man and woman, husband and wife.
The process of creating this painting placed me in the footprints of gummi (granddad) and I’d learnt through conversations with my father the hard times they’d endured of dad walking beaches looking for left-over food or taking his little gun up in the mountains to catch a bush turkey for the family at an early age was the norm. From stories passed down granddad sat with his brother Donald Brady in Brisbane which was a powerful ceremony for those present to see 2 old brothers crying on each other’s shoulders. It’s the story of 2 peaceful brothers Jawi Yabba, 2 brother mountain story that’s been passed down the line to my grandchildren Wawanji and Wandiji, as that cultural spear continues it’s journey passed down from the Dreamtime, which I saw fit to paint their old ones in their old world interfacing historical streets of Proserpine.
He went walk about in the dreamtime, long journey around the ancient world and made his way back to this special mountain north of Mareeba on the southern end of Yalanji country. He sits amongst the skies in the shape of a powerful rock (junga) as the watchman, keeping a close eye on who’s coming and going through his country, you must when travelling up through the cape pull over and acknowledge his greatness and power (mami), he will grant you safe passage that great one.
We were lucky to polarise a moment in time on one of my visits to country. Just shy of Mount Carbine you hit left opposite the old caravan park and old grandfather, Mala, (other) lives close to the old unmarked graves. His presence there for all us Yalanji living down Naka gala (south) is a Godsend as he is like a beacon for us in terms of having that physical presence live as the old people did in the bygone days.
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