YOUNG WOMEN

VISUAL ARTS

HEAL COUNTRY

Rhiannon Chapman

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A new registration from your website

This painting, HEAL COUNTRY, is based on the 2021 NAIDOC theme.

Including our sacred sites, our cultural heritage, our waters, our animals, our bush medicines, our traditional practices, our health but most importantly heal us as First Nations people, through all the pain and suffering we have endured through generation to generation. Our children and our people deserve a better future.

My painting is all those things names above,
– In the centre is our people gathering.
– The 6 circles symbolising out sacred sites of the land and the protection of them.
– Animal tracks – kangaroo and goanna,
– Our Salt waters and fresh water flowing
– Our peoples hands in the corner to remind us of the strength and compassion that’s in our blood. As well as the guidance of our ancestors.
– The pink and purple circles through the painting to resemble the berries and Bush medicines.
– And the gum leaves intertwining and connecting us as one

WRITING

Paper

Cassie Beavan

Medium: Creative writing

Statement: The state of my room tends to reflect my mental health at any given point in time; but I refuse to let it define me.

Within my chamber walls distorted pieces of parchment lie on dull burgundy carpet, covered in dust. They stare accusingly at me. The ink that bathes them screams and scowls satirically, almost as if to tell me I am worth nothing. I look away.

Letters form ceaselessly across the crinkled surfaces. I refuse to look, but I can still read them in my mind’s eye. CARELESS; SCUM; WORTHLESS; CRAZY; YOU BELONG IN THE LOONEY BIN!

I close my eyes as the tears roll down my face. What a cliche! I cry messily, noisily. Snot drips from my nose. No delicate princess here. Raw emotions spin and spiral around me like giant moths, keening bats. I see them in brilliant, vibrant colour. Black, red, purple, indigo blue.

——–

I open my eyes again. The colours fade and retreat into the walls. My room is just a room. Yes, it’s a mess. It’s cluttered, a trip hazard for all who dare venture in. Papers lie strewn across the floor. But on the wall opposite my bed the muted green wall hanging still sweetly whispers, “Love…dance…sing… live”.

I wipe my eyes and blow my nose. I will never allow the monster within to define who I will become.