The first time you glimpse Uluru is breathtaking.
Such an icon.
Such a presence.
But what I wasn't expecting to experience was the life around it during La Nina.
In my mind the monolith rose from the earth alone.
In truth, the rock is only a part of a complex symphony of elements that burst with life.
Intricate and alive in every crevice and every corner.
The places where the water falls
a tumbling explosion of gullies
Seeing the skin of the monolith glisten with rain
is to witness the water
sculpting the shapes with her hands
As the black water moved
forming pools and waterholes
Carving itself - and me
~ a deeper understanding
I realised in this moment that it’s not only the form of the rock itself but the relationship between this form and the water over so many years that etches this space in deep significance to those around it.
In reverence to this relationship I created a painting using a completely new process. Raw, foraged pigments are ground to a powder and layered with acrylics and chalks and charcoal in a fluid process of combining and stripping. I worked on the canvas much like the elements do to the fine shell of the rock over millions of years.
The piece that emerged, Raining at the rock is a visceral response to this unique landscape and the way the water marks, defines and nourishes this space.
