Three Generations of Utopia: Minnie Pwerle, Barbara Weir and Teresa Pwerle

Antiques & Art, 2002
Since the achievements in painting made by the famous late Utopian artist Emily Kame Kngwarreye during the 1990s, Central Desert art has continued to feature prominently on the Australian art scene. Whether it is in exhibitions, in galleries, in collections or auctions, art from Utopia has become an important and permanent part of contemporary Aboriginal art. Unlike its counterpart, Western Desert art, Utopian art has, since its inception, featured women artists predominantly. Although there are several historical reasons for this (women art co-ordinators, the Women’s Centre at Utopia being the focus for the production of the art etc.), it is the women of Utopia themselves who have made this art movement into what it is today. Artists such as Kngwarreye were noted not just for their incredible painting ability, but also for their powerful personalities; personalities which were as present in the boldness of their brushstrokes and the vibrancy of their colours as they were when one was in conversation with them.

For those who aren’t yet aware of this great Australian artist, take note: Emily Kame Kngwarreye was an art phenomenon; a tribal Aboriginal woman in her eighties who painted works which were consistently compared to (with great reason) many of the greats of modern art: Rothko, de Kooning, Pollock and even Monet were some comparisons. She shook modern Australian art to its very foundations, and, as has often been noted, she put Utopia on the map. Since her death, other Utopian artists have continued to surprise us with their work: artists such as Gloria Petyarre, Ada Bird Petyarre, Kathleen Petyarre, Gloria Ngale, Anna Petyarre, Abie Loy, Angelina Pwerle, Lily Sandover Kngwarreye and Nancy Petyarre have become increasingly well-respected and collectible artists. Their works are regularly seen in exhibition. They are given favourable reviews, are featured in the media and included in lists of Australia’s most collectable artists.

Two of the most prolific and interesting artists to have come out of Utopia are Barbara Weir and her mother, Minnie Pwerle. The daughter of Minnie (an Anmatyerre/Alyawarre woman) and a white man, Barbara Weir was taken from Utopia Station as a child by the Native Welfare Patrol. She spent many years living in various parts of Australia, and did not rediscover her family and country until many years later, in the late 1960s. She spent time living at Papunya, where she worked with many of the men who nowadays are considered to be the founders of the desert art painting movement. On her return to Utopia, she spent years re-familiarising herself with Minnie and her Aunt Emily, caring for her while she painted.

Weir began painting in the early 1990s, and her paintings are derived from her mother’s and maternal grandfather’s country. Weir’s grandfather was an important figure in her early life. She says that he taught her a dreaming song, which she remembered the whole time that she was separated from her family and her land. The visual narrative of this song is depicted in many of her paintings, particularly in her series My Mother’s Country. In these works the songlines of the ancestors, their camps, waterholes, secret and sacred places are all depicted, as well as the spirits of the land, the water that runs through Utopia and the bush foods, animals, plants, grasses, flowers and berries which grew so abundantly before the white man came.

Whilst Weir has been painting for some time, her mother Minnie Pwerle only came to painting more recently. When she first put brush to canvas in 1999, her family and their colleagues were amazed. Utopia, it seemed, had done it again. This independent Aboriginal community has once more produced an artist, totally ‘untaught’ (in Western terms) who could paint incredible work. Here was an older woman who could not only paint, but who was, for lack of a better term, a genius.

Although Pwerle is Kngwarreye’s tribal sister, and there is some similarity in their depiction of Awelye (women’s ceremonial body paint designs), her work is different. She has lived as a tribal woman for her entire life, and grew up collecting bush tucker, and, although she is in her eighties, can still hunt a mean lizard. She must have experienced some changing and challenging times – the introduction of western culture into her own, the invasion of rabbits and other pests onto her land, the loss of her child. Yet in spite of all this, she remains a strong, yet shy, woman whose strength of personality belies her diminutive size.

Her personality is evident in her paintings. As the beauty of Weir’s art is often the result of careful, meticulous layering of fine dots and symbols (such as in the My Mother’s Country series) or in the shimmering, impressionist quality of her Grass Seed Dreaming series, Pwerle’s work is most notable for its bold vivacious expressionism. Confident brushstrokes, beautiful, bright colours and creative patterning with gestural line are all distinctive aspects of this octogenerian painter.

And now a third generation has risen amongst this family of artists. Weir’s eldest daughter, Teresa Pwerle, who has lived in Utopia, Alice Springs, Broome and Adelaide, is also a painter. In her new series of works, we see the beginnings of a new chapter in Aboriginal art. Like the new generation of women from Lockhart River in Queensland, Pwerle is able to bring designs from traditional Aboriginal law and ceremony and place them into a contemporary context. Her paintings, like her mother’s work, are finely executed and range from the subtle to the strong. She has been given permission to paint the songlines of her grandparent’s country from the elder women of Utopia. Two tracks appear along either side of the canvas, with intricate dots in the centre, dense with secret symbols hidden underneath. The tracks represent the women singing and dancing through the native grass at ceremony time, a practice that has been done since time immemorial. As a contemporary Anmatyerre/Alyawarre woman, Teresa brings her traditional culture into the modern world in a similar way to Barbara, by experimenting with the broad palette that acrylic paint can offer. She is as fearless of colour (and as skilled in its use) as her forebears are.

The element which binds these three women is not just their family connection, but also their land. All three share the same land, which means that they have responsibility for it and also dreaming designs associated with it. Minnie, Barbara and Teresa share similarities in their art, yet the three are also totally independent artists with distinctive styles.

Minnie’s paintings are those of a tribal elder and their designs, with no dot-work, come directly from the body paint designs associated with the women’s ceremony and bush melon dreaming. Barbara’s diverse styles are a combination of symbols and fine dotting, or they are mediative, like her Grass Seeds, or experimental, like her works in ochre and oils such as The Creation of My Mother’s Dreamtime. Teresa has another style again, completely her own.

As Minnie is a great-great-grandmother, soon there will be more generations of Utopian artists coming up. Who knows, we may have four or five generations of artists before too long, which would be great news for art, and even greater news for art lovers.