Viewing Maningrida

Last Wednesday night I attended the opening of "Maningrida", a photo exhibition by my dear friend and internationally-acclaimed photographer, Belinda Mason-Lovering.

"Maningrida" is named for the aboriginal community by that name in Arnhem Land in the Northern Territory. It tells the story in wonderful colour images of Charlie Djordila, the man, his family and his land. Charlie, a traditional Burarra man divides his time between his homelands, the township of Maningrida and the wider world of Australia. Charlie is senior lecturer at Maningrida Jobs, Employment & Training Centre.

Outside it was a wet, cold Sydney winter night. My mary janes were sodden and my feet blocks of ice. Inside the Chrissie Cotter gallery in inner-city Camperdown it was all light and colour. Belinda was there with her boys and so were some friends and others I knew. I'd not been there long before the opening was launched by Lester, a local elder of the Sydney Cadigal people and Sam Byrne, the mayor of Marrickville. Lester, an urban man introduced Charlie, a traditional man.

Armed with a glass of red to smooth the rough edges left after a long day's work I explored Belinda's images most of which I had never seen before. They were wonderful. The images she took of me in "Becoming Woman" were in black and white but these were in vivid colour. They had to be...the wide, deep, red earth, the high, wide, blue sky, the long, white sands of the coast, the deep, dark, blacks and browns of the people, the glistening silver of moonfish and the bright prints and patterns of clothing.

I was entranced. How I wanted to be spirited high up into that high bright country, wider than the world, as clear as clear air, hearing the endless crash of the sea on the long shore and the cry of birds; feel the red earth and the white sand under my feet...far from the clatter and clutter of my corporate city strife...I mean life.

Oh! I loved all the images! I can never go to one of Belinda's, exhibitions without being changed, challenged, unsettled, moved, transported, stretched.

Now which did I love the most? Oh! It had to be the one of Charlie's daughter holding up two little silver moonfish like brooches. But I also loved the one of Charlie and his little son (see my photo of the invite above), the one of Charlie sitting down in the middle of the bush with his laptop and his little naked, wide-eyed son beside him, the one of the smoke of the bush fire on the horizon piling high up into the sky and joining with huge banks of cloud to form a high pillar in the sky; and the one of Charlie's wife cooking great-looking dampers over an open fire. Mmm! I loved them all!

I felt an urge to do the groupie thing and talk to Charlie. He was in great demand so I hung on the rim of the acolytes. Eventually he noticed me and we spoke briefly. He explained each image and who was in it and its personal significance to him. We were both subjects...and friends of Belinda.

I had never spoken with a traditional aboriginal man before and, tho' I'm not sure about this, I think perhaps he had never spoken with a transsexual woman before. A first for both of us, maybe...I dunno.

It wasn't long before he was whisked away though and after talking to some friends I bundled myself up underbrolly and sloshed down Parramatta road to catch a bus home.

That night, lying, warm and snuggly in my princess bed, listening to the rain on the roof, I savoured the richness of friendship and meeting that has, so quite surprisingly, been bestowed upon me in these, my middle years, my second chance at life.

And...I dreamed of Maningrida!


Marrickville Council press release about exhibition

Maningrida Council website

Maningrida Art & Culture website

Barani - an aboriginal history of Sydney

Intimate Encounters - Belinda's website