Diane Moon
I first saw John Mawurndjul’s work in 1985 in the ‘back room’ of the Maningrida Arts and Crafts centre. Newly arrived and clearing a work/storage space for a weaving research project, I came across damaged paintings and sculptures considered unsaleable. A bark with a serious linear crack caught my eye – through a tracery of fine lines a barely there yawkyawk spirit rose up through water lilies. I felt it held all the potential for greatness. Before long I was asked to support Charles Godjuwa in his role as art advisor and my professional relationship with Mawurndjul began. Many long trips to the family outstation at Mumeka followed, and my memories of working with Mawurndjul relate mostly to his integrity, intensity, independence, talent, sense of justice and sense of humour.
Mawurndjul would always place himself, as an artist, firmly within his cultural and family circle. He often reiterated that his older brother, Jimmy Njiminjuma, was responsible for leading the way and teaching him the subjects and techniques needed for his art; for teaching him that the wraith-like mimih spirits of the escarpment country first laid down the laws for Kuninjku artists and made everything possible.
A memorable visit to the MCA site office at Circular Quay in 1988 was a turning point for Mawurndjul. He developed a clear sense of his place in the art world and affirmed his commitment to an artistic life. With the future of the new museum in mind, he made ambitious bark paintings for the Collection on returning to Maningrida.
Later, during the opening of Aratjara: Art of the First Australians in Düsseldorf in 1993, the instantaneous translation of Mawurndjul’s Kuninjku words into English as he spoke at the international conference was an important moment for him. (His talk had been translated from the Kuninjku into English in Maningrida, and then translated into German for the event.) One evening he stayed behind to rest rather than attend an event; but then, surprisingly and wonderfully, he walked through the dark Düsseldorf streets and appeared dressed like a ‘proper’ artist in a dark poloneck sweater to join the party. The next day we went by train to Cologne. While visiting a Picasso retrospective I commented that one day there would be a similar exhibition for him; he replied simply, ‘I know’. At the Cologne Cathedral Mawurndjul marvelled at the human commitment to build and rebuild this great edifice – a sacred site. Similarly, in Amsterdam at the Rijksmuseum he was fascinated with the universal reverence for the numinous that he recognised in the beautiful icon paintings.
The practical aspects of life in the bush are bonding and often funny (in retrospect), and usually involve trucks. Being bogged for hours and waiting for rescue is always memorable, as was the time when John (and I) stood in the mechanics’ workshop in bewilderment at how his broken-down truck might ever be reassembled. His main concern at that moment, though, was for the numberplate that lay unattached, making it illegal. A favourite memory is driving out to Mumeka to pick up work. Not having enough packing materials to safely transport multiple hollow logs, the Kuninjku artists’ solution was to pack dead magpie geese around the works to separate them, and hand the geese out to family on arrival in the town camp. And it worked! A conservator’s nightmare.
