“No person steps in the same river twice”
When I set out my plans for 2020 last year, I laid out the most ambitious plans for my research and practice… but like everyone on this planet, nature had its own plans.
I’ve had to see my research from a different perspective during 2021 and rather than expand my practice to locations across the globe, I was forced to more closely examine the work I had already produced and question my relationship and my place in Australia.
Twice in the last twelve months, I have taken the opportunity to return to the World Heritage Area of Willandra Lakes Region, Mungo National Park in far south western NSW, where I could learn to observe more closely… and listen more intently… to the voices of the country.
I had to ask myself how my understanding of colour has changed and how is it connected and informed by stories and my experiences at Mungo.
The environments of where I reside with my family and the place where I can make art can be in extreme contrast to each other but they are also interconnected.
I seem to have a broader horizon of life when I am watching the sun rise or set at Mungo. This ancient landscape confronts you with time. You come to realise when you are walking out there, that we are only a small particle in a very long narrative. This place can be harsh but it invites you in and also accepts you as being a part of the story of its landscape. I feel very comfortable and safe at this place.
I deeply respect and I am very grateful for the care this place and its people have given to me.
Natalie O’Connor at Mungo Lunettes observations the dry paper samples from Gol Gol Colour Observation #7 in situ against the oldest red layer of the lunettes, The Gol Gol Layer. Thank you to the elders and communities of Mungo National Park for sharing their country and to Tanya Charles and other NSW National Parks staff for providing access and continued support to this unique location.for my art practice and research. Photo taken by Nicole Walton.
In contrast, whilst at home with my family I spend most days looking at the ocean. It is when I am placed in these two situations that I find it easiest to write about the interconnectedness of my life, art and place.
I’ve reflected on a diary entry from the last day of 2019 made sitting on ‘Sharkies’ Beach whilst watching my Husband , Michael and sons, Jack and Sam ride the relentless waves. It was an unusual summer in Sydney with a smoke haze that sat in the atmosphere and filtered the light. Somehow there was a sense of things shifting long before it became apparent to us all.
It’s hot dry smoky and the sand’s heat is coming through the towel to my feet. Cinematic Chillout is playing in my ears and the northeast swell is bringing in a high tide with an energy for the emerging decade. The sound of the waves hums along with the music. Each wave edges closer to me ~ tide and time. How many waves have there been in my lifetime? How many more? Why is it so hard to be with each wave? I’m like the surfers who are always looking to the horizon for the next wave, the next opportunity, the next opportunity, the possibilities to do something new or different.
Its hot.
So what possibilities will the next decade hold for me?
Just like the waves today? Each wave is a challenge but also an opportunity. Some waves roll in gently and others knock you off your feet.