GALLERY GUARDIANS

Precious rock art at remote sites in West Arnhem Land is being cared for by Indigenous rangers as part of an innovative new conservation program.

Precious rock art in West Arnhem Land is being cared for by Indigenous rangers in an innovative new program.

“BIM! BIM! BIM!” calls Sarah Billis at the top of her voice as the rising sun spreads a torrent of warm light among the eucalypts and turkey bushes at Manmoyi outstation in West Arnhem Land.

Home to the Bininj people, Manmoyi is a small, remote community on the Arnhem Land plateau. Gathered around the smoking embers of the previous night’s campfires, with cups of warm tea cradled in their hands, a few people are waiting for the chill to go off this fine, dry-season morning. They look towards Sarah, a senior Bininj woman, as she repeats her call through a megaphone: “Bim! Bim! Bim!”

Bim is short for kunwarddebim, the Kunwinjku word for rock art. And Sarah’s calls are intended to gather people to go search for these precious cultural works. Whether it’s a cold dry-season morning or a humid day late in the year, looking for bim appeals to most Bininj. It provides an opportunity to travel clan estates, connect with ancestors, and gather and eat bush foods such as sugarbag (the honey of native bees) and seasonal fruit, including mandudjmi (green plum) and mandjarduk (red bush apple). Importantly, the activity imparts knowledge to the young Bininj about culture and land.

The Bininj are traditional occupants of West Arnhem Land, which includes the rugged 22,000sq.km plateau known by speakers of Bininj Kunwok (dialects of the region) as Kuwarddewardde and by others as the stone country. Kuwarddewardde borders Kakadu and Nitmiluk national parks in the west and south-west and takes in the Warddeken Indigenous Protected Area (IPA) and parts of the Djelk IPA and Mimal Land Management area.

The plateau’s Kombolgie sandstone has been carved by a relentless cycle of wet and dry seasons for millennia.

Like a knife cutting in slow motion, water run-off has exposed sandstone to create a network of fissures, chasms and gorges. The plateau’s relative geological stability has afforded plant and animal species protection from fire and flood and allowed them to evolve mostly in isolation. Some are found nowhere else on Earth. The Bininj, too, have found sanctuary in the stone country, one of the world’s most remote and inaccessible regions.

Excavations at Madjedbebe, in the Mirrar clan estate, on the Jabiluka mining lease, north of Kakadu National Park – some 130km west of Manmoyi – have confirmed Aboriginal habitation of the region dates back to the Pleistocene epoch. Scientists dug down 4m to uncover skeletal remains and finely crafted stone artefacts such as axe heads, spear points and grinding stones.

Like a knife cutting in slow motion, water run-off has exposed sandstone to create a network of fissures, chasms and gorges.

At ground level on a long sandstone wall, a beautifully symmetrical painting of a Macassan prau (boat), from Indonesia, sits alongside older images of fish, yams and small dynamic figures of Aboriginal hunters. The paintings and archaeological discoveries indicate Madjedbebe has been at the crossroads of human activity in the Top End for at least 65,000 years.

Australia has one of the world’s greatest rock art traditions. There are more than 125,000 known sites, from the Torres Strait to Tasmania. Some contain grand, elevated galleries while others may hold a single faded image on an out-of-the-way rock face or cave wall. Artistic styles include paintings, rock engravings (petroglyphs) and beeswax motifs and designs. It is hard to date rock art but scientists believe some examples to be 30,000 years old.

Rock-art hotspots around the country include Arnhem Land and the Kimberley and Pilbara regions of northern Western Australia. The Arnhem Land plateau is particularly rich – it’s estimated there are three or four art sites for every 1000ha of rocky terrain, potentially adding up to more than 40,000 sites.

Most art is in or near areas where the Bininj have lived for thousands of years and while some sites are specific to men or women, most are communal. The art usually serves a purpose – to educate children about the natural and spiritual worlds, describe food sources, provide warnings, delineate clan boundaries, tell stories about important events or simply celebrate life.

Of particular interest in the stone country is art from the period when the Bininj came into contact with people from other cultures, notably the Macassans and Europeans. It is one of the best records of contact between cultures that exists in this country. At some galleries paintings of white, ghostly figures (Europeans) smoking pipes or carrying rifles sit atop creatures that resemble massive macropods (but are probably horses). These 150-year-old illustrations sit alongside, and in some cases are painted over, bold, naturalistic figures that date back thousands of years.

The region is a treasure trove of World Heritage-listed art that is largely neglected, except by the Bininj.

The region is a treasure trove of World Heritagelisted art that is largely neglected, except by the Bininj.

TWO TROOP CARRIERS filled with Manmoyi residents plunge engine-deep into the Mann River, spraying water either side. The vehicles soon crawl up the steep bank onto a sandy track that heads west. Five kilometres on, the troopies take to the bush to follow a buffalo road, a trail created by feral buffalo that winds through the bush. When the terrain becomes impassable by fourwheel-drive it’s time to walk.

Senior traditional custodians Berribob Watson, Sarah Billis, Ricky Nabarlambarl and Edna Midjarda are accompanied by Dion Koimala, Marshall Bangarr, Milly Naborlhborlh, Annemarie Ahwon and DDjenkin Guymala. All are employed by Warddeken Land Management Limited (WLML) as rangers. Dr Claudia Cialone, who oversees the WLML Rock Art Project, is also with them.

Rock-art research used to be primarily the domain of anthropologists and archaeologists employed by tertiary institutions with government funding. The products of their research – including interviews, documentation of conversations with traditional owners, photographic images, and artefacts taken from sites – often remained with institutions where they were archived, studied further by academics, or used by governments to justify protection or exploitation of an area. Rarely did the data come back to a community in any form other than a research paper or government document.

Rock-art research grants are largely directed through the Australian Research Council, one of the Federal Government’s main agencies for allocating funds to academics and researchers at Australian universities. Grants to study any aspect of rock art are rarely given to Aboriginal organisations. But the Bininj have now turned that model on its head. In 2010 Aboriginal elders from West Arnhem Land’s Warddeken and Djelk IPAs established the Karrkad-Kanjdji Trust (KKT) to source alternative funding for land management and cultural projects. The trust approaches Australian and international philanthropic organisations and individuals. It recently established a $5 million Arnhem Land rock-art project, the main contributor being the Ian Potter Foundation.

“Philanthropy allows us to connect with funders willing to support the vision of communities and organisations like ours.”

Shaun Ansell, CEO of WLML, says the rock-art program is innovative and well beyond the scope of government. “It means we’re not chasing the government dollar that relies on somebody in Canberra speaking to some expert who has formed an opinion based on a study,” he explains. “In the past we have had to fall in line with government and bureaucratic policy. Philanthropy allows us to connect with funders willing to support the vision of communities and organisations like ours.”

Yet raising private funds takes significant time and energy. That’s one reason the KKT is an exceptional example of how to engage in that space, Shaun says. “WLML on its own does not have capacity to create and manage those relationships in the first place, whereas having a purposefully constructed body like KKT to go out there and engage on our behalf actually enables that to happen.”

AWORLD AWAY FROM corporate boardrooms and government decision makers, the Bininj from Manmoyi begin a long walk into the stone country between rocks and boulders, following watercourses and passing through pandanus groves, avoiding spiky spinifex clumps as they go, much as their ancestors did thousands of years ago.

Berribob Watson and Ricky Nabarlambarl take turns carrying a shotgun in case the group disturbs a buffalo, the plateau’s most dangerous creature. All wear GPS wrist trackers for processing at ranger headquarters to ensure sites can be found again and to log the work.

During the following week, the Bininj travel to several sites in the estates of the Djordi, Bordoh and Wurrbbarn clans. Traditional owners know some sites well. Others haven’t been visited in living memory. Younger rangers record with cameras and tablets. Claudia interviews older people about their recollections and records stories of individual paintings.

When she began to work with the Bininj as a PhD student, a supervisor told her she wouldn’t truly understand them or their culture unless she learnt Kunwinjku. “So I set that as my first priority,” Claudia says. “People appreciated that I was making so much effort to express anything in [their] language. All interviews and stories are recorded in Kunwinjku, which is more comprehensive and useful among the Bininj than English. It can be translated later.”

The project goes hand in glove with the Warddeken vision of managing land holistically. The Bininj consider the stories behind the art as essential to locating, conserving and protecting as much of it as possible. The project also has other practical outcomes: to get people on country, improve employment – especially among women – and bring generations together.

Traditional land management is vital to preserving rockart. Regular burning decreases build-ups of fuel such as spinifex and leaf litter from intruding into sites, making fires less destructive. Bushfires can become so intense that sandstone splits off rock faces or explodes. Buffalo and pigs can also destroy ancient sites by rubbing against rock. At two sites – Dumebey and Bukbuk – rangers erected stockyard panels to exclude large feral animals sheltering from the weather.

There are both natural and unnatural processes of rock art deterioration. It is impossible to stop a number of natural processes. Wind picks up grains of sand and gently sandblasts objects, rock is exfoliated over time, temperatures change, humidity goes up and down, wasps build nests on the art, termites leave trails, painted rocks fall down, banyans and figs send roots down and across the face of rock art, and leaves brush against it.

Rangers take close notice of trees next to rock art; if they look like they are going to touch it, they are removed and their roots poisoned so they don’t grow back. Spinifex is scratched out in some areas and regular visits are scheduled to control encroaching vegetation.

The art of the Arnhem Land plateau is rich in antiquity, quality and quantity.

Dr Dar yl Wesley, an archaeologist from Flinders University, in South Australia, who has spent years working alongside Aboriginal custodians, says rock art started to deteriorate quickly when Aboriginal people were taken out of the landscape and encouraged to live in large settlements.

“The penny dropped when I was working in [West] Arnhem Land,” he says. “If we can get people back doing activities that closely resemble living on country, which is what Aboriginal ranger programs do, then we are 90 per cent of the way to conserving rock art. Looking after the country and landscape is looking after the art. The last 10 per cent is getting to know where the sites are, establishing site recording programs and designing annual programs to decide which sites should be visited more often or not.”

The establishment of a digital database of sites and paintings should be a priority for all Indigenous organisations, says Peter Cooke, a former CEO of WLML and a rock-art advisor to Mimal Land Management. “Digital conservation captures things as they are today,” he says. “A lot of interest from academics is about interpretation but my interest is not so much interpretation, except where we can access Indigenous professors. I am determined we save images looking as good as they can, then in the future we can do analysis out of the field using software that has possibly not been developed yet.”

MANY ART SITES ARE in spectacular locations – on elevated ledges looking over sweeping plains, beside picturesque waterways, on the walls of cavernous shelters, and near groves of native fruit trees. Images may have survived thousands of years and are likely to endure for many more but traditional knowledge is under threat.

Claudia always appreciates the art but says it means far more with the story behind it. “It is the story in context, the culture, the environment, not just the painting on the wall,” she says. “The story made by the Bininj and even reinterpreted by the Bininj excites me.” Arnhem Land plateau art is rich in antiquity, quality and quantity. Many paintings 15–20,000 years old are artistically brilliant. Some are clearly celebration stories – the first kangaroo or emu killed. A hand stencil indicates a certain person visited a site; stencils of small hands are like baby photos. In some places they seem to indicate a person growing up.

“It’s a real joy to see things somebody from 20,000 years ago painted that resonate today as fabulous or interesting art,” Peter Cooke says. “To come across an outstanding piece of work and to be standing in the same place, almost in the footsteps of the person who painted it is an extraordinary feeling of connecting across time.”

The Bininj know the core of their culture is threatened if they can’t conserve their art and stories, and they appreciate help from any quarter. “I like working away from larger communities and being on country,” says Aboriginal ranger Milly Naborlhborlh. “This rock-art project connects me with family and ancestors and I feel like I am doing important work.” Senior custodian Berribob Watson is more pragmatic about the project. “We need to work quickly,” he says. “There are many old people who know the stories who have finished up or cannot get onto country.”

At Kuwuleng, near Manmoyi, a rock art gallery sits high on a stony escarpment looking over a woodland and creek. Generations of artists have painted over each other’s work here , creating a tapestry of designs in different colours. Kunbidjih – hand stencils – stand out.

These figures of a barramundi and the female form are remarkably well preserved considering they’ve been made with the white pigment huntite. This rare mineral, which is mined, traded and highly valued by the Bininj Aboriginal people, is known by archaeologists as a “fugitive” pigment: it’s vulnerable to wind and water erosion and can be damaged when brushed by vegetation or animals.

Daluk (woman) ranger Annemarie Ahwon holds a colour scale by a reclining figure at Marebu, near Manmoyi. Rangers photograph all rock art with and without technical details to ensure they are documented and recorded accurately.

Much of the Arnhem Land stone country is protected as either national park or Indigenous protected area.

The Arnhem Land plateau is one of Earth’s least disturbed environments. Remote and rugged sandstone formations have provided canvasses for the Bininj that have endured for millennia.

Ricky Nabarlambarl and his partner Edna Midjarda survey a cave complex at Nawekke, near Manmoyi. Painted figures nearby tell the Bininj that namarnde – bad spirits – inhabit this area and not to wander into the bush alone – a warning to children to stay close to their parents.

Traditional owner Johnny Read examines an image of a European vessel drawn between 1870 and 1920. Shielded by a rocky overhang, this gallery, 100km from the coast, is dominated by saltwater themes including images of a whale, birds and boats.

A dramatic painting of a kangaroo (kunj), more than 3m high, dominates a gallery at Kundjorlomdjorlom, near Kabulwarnamyo. The area is situated near a fast-flowing creek and is popular with native bees that produce sugarbag (honey). Generations of Bininj have conducted important ceremonies here and filled numerous sandstone galleries with spectacular images.

Warddeken rangers travel across the IPA in 4WDs, often making their own tracks through the bush. When they can drive no further they walk, following animal trails and creeks.

The Bininj have been gathering white and orange clay from soil at a creek near Marebu art site, which is close to Manmoyi, for thousands of years.

Heat from bushfires can cause rock to expand and lift off the face of a gallery, while water can erode and wash away paintings.

An ancient masterpiece at Kuwuleng art site, near Manmoyi, spreads before Edna Midjarda. The surviving red pigment indicates the images were made with an iron-based material, absorbed into the rock over thousands of years. They are of running men carrying spears, perhaps chasing kangaroos or emus – a snapshot of ancient life.

Claudia Cialone offers tips to daluk ranger Tineesha Narorrga on photographing hard-to-access art. Using small tripods and digital cameras, rangers avoid heavy gear in the rugged terrain. A colour scale on a stick (bottom right) is part of the recording process.