Sandhills 2007

Kathleen Petyarre painted this piece, Sandhills, with what looks like acrylic on canvas, and what I love is how it seems to almost breathe with the rhythm of the earth itself. Imagine Petyarre, brush in hand, coaxing these ochre tones into existence. There’s this quiet energy in the repetitive gesture, a kind of devotion as the colors blend and blur, evoking the vastness of her homeland. The textured surface, built up layer by layer, feels like the very skin of the desert. Those horizontal lines! They vibrate with the heat haze, echoing the landscape. Are they rivers, paths, or ancient songlines? They suggest a journey, a passage through time and space. It makes me think of Agnes Martin’s quiet grids, but with an earthy, grounded sensibility. Petyarre’s painting reminds us of the stories embedded in the land, the whispers of ancestors carried on the wind. It’s a testament to the power of simplicity, and how a few marks can contain a whole world.