The Pintupi Nine: Last Nomads of the Western Desert

What we were taught by religion, science, government, parents, and what we have learned to believe through our experiences from the time that we were born, are the truths that we desperately cling to. We depend on the infallibility of these truths when we attempt to understand ourselves as individuals and the time and space that we find ourselves in.

What would our life be like if they were taken away? How would we react if we were faced with something that stood outside our world view?

Twenty years ago, on 18 October 1984, the existence of nine Pintupi family members was shaken when they walked out of their isolated, nomadic life and into the Kiwirkura community, 700 kilometres west of Alice Springs. The world view of Papalya, Nanu, Piyiti, Warlimpirga, Takaria, Yalti, Yakultji, Thomas (Tamayinya) and Walala had shifted beyond recognition when they experienced non-Indigenous Australia and their truths—spanning thousands of years of tradition and countless generations—suddenly had to stretch and bend to include such things as clothes, matches, water pumps, money and guns.

This occurrence, remarkable in our age of the shrinking world, has been well documented in the media since that day. The initial sensationalism of the Herald’s “We find the lost tribe” headline (24 October 1984) and the Centralian Advocate’s “Clan joins the 20th century” banner (26 October 1984) has slowly dissipated to be replaced by greater accuracy to include the views of the event by the “bush mob” themselves, as well as a genuine interest by non-Indigenous Australia in the traditional Pintupi way of life.

The result was an appearance in the television documentary Australia: Beyond the Fatal Shore (2000), written and hosted by Robert Hughes, and Paul Toohey’s article “The Last Nomads” published in The Bulletin (4 May 2004). Subsequently, we have come to accept that they were never “lost,” that “petrified” would be a more accurate word than “wary” to describe their initial reaction, and that in the process spears were launched and guns were fired.

We have a greater understanding of the momentous change in the world of the Pintupi Nine—once filled with flying kadaicha men, death songs, and drought—and the unimaginably enormous task it has been to adapt to a world so unlike their own, with sickness and the common cold, itching clothes, white sugar, refined flour and its consequences. Through death (Papalya and Nanu) and through rejection of the new world (Piyiti walked back into the desert after several months), six of the original nine remain—a feat in itself and an inspiration for the strength and tenacity of the human spirit.

Not the least of these miracles is something that the general media has only alluded to in the past and yet has formed an integral part of the two distinct lives of five of the last nomads. It is evidence not only that they have managed to adapt to western society, but also, astoundingly, of their ability—against the odds pitted against them—to make a unique and positive contribution towards it.

This wonder is the unique and exquisite artworks created by Yalti Napaltjarri (35), Yakultji Napaltjarri (34), Warlimpirnga Tjapaltjarri (45), Thomas Tjapaltjarri (35) and Walala Tjapaltjarri (32). Warlimpirnga, the eldest, was the first of his group to paint. He was followed by Thomas, Warlimpirnga’s cousin, and Walala, Thomas’ half-brother. More recently, the sisters Yalti and Yakultji have been creating their own fabulous paintings based on the women’s stories of their traditional lands, for which they are all—understandably—homesick.

The Aboriginal Gallery of Dreamings has been tracking their artistic development from the time they substituted modern acrylics, brushes, and canvas for traditional ochre and implements. A report on the progress of this journey and their overwhelmingly enthusiastic reception in the art world can be found in Emily Childs’ article Last of the Nomads published in Antiques & Art in Victoria (April–August 2003).

Aside from recently acquired works, the Ebes collection includes many fine early “Nangara” paintings by Warlimpirnga, Walala and Thomas, which were first exhibited in Bruges, Belgium, in 1996 and have since toured and been lauded in Europe and Japan. The earliest paintings by the male Pintupi from the late 1980s portray distinctly their heritage in both style and content. Parallels can be drawn between these works and those executed by the Pintupi artists from the commencement of the desert painting movement, which resulted from the introduction of modern materials in the community of Papunya in the early 1970s.

These early creations are characterized by economy of form, sparseness of detail, and a marked preference for white, brown, yellow and red—traditional hues derived from ochre employed in both body decoration and ground painting compositions executed for sacred ceremonies. Similarly, they share in common the typical concentric circles design, often connected by a single or series of straight and undulating lines and shadowed on both sides by parallel rows of dot work in repeated, alternating colours.

In this early phase of their art careers, not much separates the styles of the three family members. This is evident upon the study of three paintings shown here from the Ebes collection: Warlimpirnga’s Tingari Cycle (1991), which depicts the rock holes of his country; Thomas’ Bushfire Dreaming (1984), illustrating the devastation of the blaze responsible for fatalities among his ancestors; and Walala’s Tingari Cycle (1987), mapping the geography of his country, Wilkinkarra.

These early paintings display the richness of their traditional culture—their sole piece of luggage from their previous existence. Priceless and immeasurable by any standards in our Western society, this coded information regarding the formation and subsequent history of our continent is transported directly from the ancient world into our own and can be reaped through the artistic brilliance of these Pintupi artists, rather than through books or dusty archives. This information is not supposition or theory; it is from the hands of the ancient ones themselves.

It must be remembered, however, that the paintings by the last of the nomads proceed beyond mere ethnographic curiosity. Warlimpirnga, Thomas, Walala, Yalti and Yakultji are artists in every sense of our definition of the word. Like every artist, they are occupied with developing greater skill and the fine-tuning of their craft, inherent with such concerns as balance, composition, contrast and colour. Consequently, the products of the last few years have shown the matured results.

Finally, as with all great artists, they have developed their own distinct style and niche in the art world. Consider Warlimpirnga’s concentric squares, Thomas’ more lyrical line work and tree-style dotting, and it would be impossible to misattribute Walala’s unique compositions of squares, framed by white dotting placed directly on black or coloured primer.

The last of the nomads burst onto the non-Indigenous radar with much fanfare. Their remarkable story is still a source of interest today, twenty years on. In Australian and international art circles, it is their artwork that is now creating a sensation and prompting universal accolades. Art lovers everywhere are now standing up and taking note of these artists who only speak English haltingly but are fluent in the language of art.

Their roots may be embedded in the primitive world of magic and sacred ceremonies, but their position in that privileged space among the greatest contemporary artists is now indisputable. In the meantime, Hank Ebes is continuing to expand his collection of paintings by the Pintupi Five, as well as the international exhibitions program, with a showing of the latest works in Tijnje, the Netherlands, in the European autumn.

If the journey of art embarked upon by Warlimpirnga, Walala, Thomas, Yalti and Yakultji of the last 20 years is anything to go by, the future looks even more promising.