Mowaljarli, Western Australia - my Final Portrait
Many years ago I met a man who looked very deeply into my soul – as I did, into his. His name was David Mowaljarli and this is his portrait.
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It is very different from all the others I have drawn, but with good reason. You see, Ngaranyin people are not necessarily “identified” by their facial features. They are identified by – and indeed identify with -- their land, and in Mowaljarli’s case, this was not evident in the contours of his face or the reflection on the surface of his eyes, rather, the deep initiation scars emblazoned across his chest… the wash-board dunes and swales of the desert… the ripple of sacred waters. When he made those cuts through his skin and flesh, his blood fell onto the earth and the two -- quite literally in Mowaljarli’s mind -- became one.
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Mowaljarli came from a dry place, standing up from the rock, in the heart of Wandjina country. North East of Derby in Western Australia. Like so many elders before him, he had no fewer than 8 or 9 names, each reflecting as an aspect of who he was and where and how he fitted in. If he introduced himself to a fellow countryman, he would begin with Nyaranyin, his language name, then Wodoi, his “skin” or clan. His country name was Jurat – the hibiscus tree -- and Mowal, his ancestoral name. Jarli literally meant “son of” and his spirit name was Bangal - the bat – which had come to his mother in a dream…
Mowaljarli’s sense of identity was profound. He was the past, the present and the future -- just as the land itself was -- encoded with everything that has ever been, and everything that will, eventually, be. And I hope this first drawing I have made to honour him, captures his essence and extraordinary sense of self…
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It has been an emotional journey – getting to the point where I felt I could make this drawing… 16 years after Mowaljarli and I first hatched the plan to paint it. It was a vision that came to us both one day, as we walked out across his land… emerging from a conversation that took place between us without the benefit of words. It was more like little electrical charges he sent through the earth and up into my being, via my bare feet and bare soul.
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We walked out with nothing at all in our minds we felt we needed to discuss, and came back with an affirmation and a promise: I was going to paint Mowaljari’s chest for the coveted Archibald Prize – Australia’s best know portrait competition -- and simultaneously enter the SAME painting in the Wynne– the national landscape painting competition. We even dug some ochres together to use… along with a few Mowaljarli’s son – who had died the month before in custody – had given him, just before his death.
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We were going to change the way white people thought about Aboriginal people and in the process, kick a rather institutionalised definition of portraiture into the ether forever. But Mowaljarli died the week before he was coming to “sit” for me in my studio…
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Life lesson number 100. From my dear friend, David Mowaljarli:
“When you make a journey, you always look behind, to see where you’ve been. You always remember. In the journey of life, you should be mindful to do the same. Look back often. Remember where you’ve been. Remember who you are. For your personal journey, yesterday, today, and tomorrow, is also your Songline.”
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