Tiny tiny dewdrops on 🕸/*\ 🕷 bridge ...

Not a romance. Not your paradise. #maroochyrises #maroochy #notaromance Kabi Kabi Country ...

Unraveling of things misplaced/hidden. (detail) #plantinks #bacterialinks #mineralinks #mushroominks #bodilyinks #earthpigments #bushfirecharcoal #sensorimotordrawing #somaticdrawing #beingwith #discomfortandgrowth #symbiocene ...

Our environmental/bio sound synthesiser, probably has snakes sleeping in it over winter. So now: ✨ snake snoring!!, your heart, the ground, the air, pond and mountain ⛰💚🌿🐍 #floatingland2019 rossannels #karlapringle ...

My body is a disorderly writer, but little words of love spoken with bodily marks, counselled by the ground beneath me. Kabi Kabi Country. 💚 Dual handed 🤲🏼 body sensory drawing. A little cup, a bodily gesture of care, hoping for it to spore. Bush fire charcoal, bacterial garden inks, dirt and puff ball mushroom ink, 🍄 (very sporey). ❤️ #mushroomink #plantink #bacterialink #ecoprint #drawing #coldpress #sensorimotordrawing #symbiocene #care #morecarelesscapitalism ...

I really enjoyed this, you can still grab a digital copy!💚 #Repost morethnmelanin with make_repost
You can still read the zine!! Don't forget to send your email address through!
Picture credit: cassiveaggresive .
#soldout #zinemaking #womenofcolor #nonbinary #peopleofcolor #bipoc #queer #zines #literature #digital

#Repost coz I can’t move, I wake up choking, my legs don’t work, my body shuts down, because the same violence that broke me open years ago, is still alive here now. The disembodied colonial culture is killing us all- for the sake of some hierarchical capitalist godly ideology somewhere? STOP NOW. Listen to the people of this Country, listen to Country. Be here now. Be with this place under your feet. The power of this Country and the ceremonies that still live in this land are so powerful that even under 15m of concrete you’ll hear, if you listen. Have a relationship with Country. Ask it where it hurts. You are a part of this place and you can’t ignore that. This place, you belong to. Love it, protect it, you aren’t powerless. Have a relationship with the place under your feet. As hard as that might be- try, whatever that brings up, it will also give you the tools to heal. I was once told, ‘where grows what kills, also grows what cures’, and I’ve found it to be true. Try. ・・・
My grandmother spent her childhood at Brooloo, nearby is a giant bluff of ancient rock, strangely from the same geological family of scattered mountains that I live at now.
These mountains once faced Antarctica as part of Gondwana land. They have twisted and turned for over 200 million years.
I came to know this bluff when I was beginning to piece together some ancestral patterns. I was trying to understand my c-ptsd and the numbness in my body.
I’ve come to believe some of the numbness stems from an inherited, general culture of colonial abuse, disembodiment, disconnection and disassociation with place.
First Australian People’s original and unwavering connection with Country was ignored so land could be claimed as terra nullius and stolen without righteous or godly remorse. (Guilt)
The insistence that we are somehow separate from place is nonsensical and inaccurate. We are a composite of human DNA and interchanging micro bacteria, which inhabits not only bodies, but also our environment.
Country is people and people are Country. We need to understand and feel this for coming generations.
I’d so much rather live in a #symbiocene than die in an #anthropocene
#kabikabicountry ❤️

Struggling to create a speculative place of being:
I visit a speculative forest
No one owns it or me.
We speak infrasonic
and the transformative fungal fruits of
our motioning
river into an underworld.

When I forget myself,
And pain, pain, pain, pins me down.
I hear it whisper, ‘you are
master of your own tools’
Lain on it's ground, we breathe
In union
Until I remember. [_____________________]

I hope one day our breath
Will be so rich
It’ll descend,
waking misty ghost rivers,
Flooding everything
with belonging.
And we’ll remember why
we were told to forget,
our bodies,
I visit a speculative forest
No one owns it or me
#speculativefiction #speculativeplaces #speculativeforest #symbiocene

Record of a time, my mother tongue, on his masters voice. Green eye shadow, vintage glitter, pine plantation, sensorimotor drawing. #recordsofatime #greeneyeshadow #sensorimotordrawing #hismastersvoice #mothertongue ...

Bonyee ( #bunya ) sacred tree, Kabi Kabi Country. Home to many, feeding many, holding the ground, the ground holding us all. 💚💚💚 ...

There was this image of a sovereign head that appeared over the leaves in the pink blood of the bodies of crushed cochineal. I moved it around the room, like an intrusive flashback, trying to find a way not to see it. But I cried, I’d lain my body with these leaves, and there was this divined head in blood ink. Plain to me as day. I drew flowers from burnt trees over it’s dead bodies. I hated us even more then. Then I realised it was just a head without a body. Disembodied, and I could see all the dead women in my family. I washed it. The bodiless head disappeared and I took pigment from this ground here and with both hands together, in union, I wrote, WE. I hope that this is good magic. But like all apparitions it’s unphotographable. #symbioscene #listening ...

Australian mistletoe, grape skins, charcoal from bushfire Country, ghost of mulberry bark paper. Things that hold, in-betweenness, joiners, liminal actions, thresholds, change. I hope 🖤 ...

#Repost more- still relevant. The River returns me, Be/coming Home. 2019, made on Kabi Kabi Country.
My ancestors arrived at the Sunshine Coast in the late 1880’s, most Kabi Kabi/Gubbi Gubbi people were brutally removed from the area during this time. My family never spoke of this war, but a legacy of unquestioned cruelty permeated my childhood. I saw and experienced violence in every form. My body, and this land, and it’s people were invaded, powered over, pillaged and controlled. I hope acknowledging this violence serves to dismantle places it still lays hidden.
These works are made using a form of sensorimotor drawing and mark making. I use this to connect with Country in a thoroughly immersive manner, to listen deeply with all my bodily senses. These images are records of the reverence that exists between bodies of land and flesh - petitions against the destruction of their unity, love poems to Country and belonging, teaching my body to become home. I wish to acknowledge the power of Kabi Kabi Country and it’s people.

#Repost still relevant. ‘Between Us’, 2019, showing mailboxartspace from 4-28th of April. *Be/coming home - Kabi Kabi/Gubbi Gubbi Country is the land of my childhood. It’s rainforest Country bordered by mountains, rivers and ocean. In the 1880’s most of the Kabi Kabi/Gubbi Gubbi people were violently removed from the land where I now live. My ancestors also arrived here at this time. I was never made aware of my family’s involvement in this war. I never heard stories about it. It was not spoken of. There was a lot that was not spoken of. And I cannot speak for ghosts, but I can see patterns – patterns of intergenerational culture.

I grew up with violence in every form, and suppression, repression, and denial. The conquerors conquer their own. The land was powered over, owned, diminished, pillaged and controlled. My body was powered over, owned, diminished, pillaged and controlled. Frightened men fight until they die. I left, so I wouldn’t die fighting back.

Now I’ve returned. I am trying to reconcile the violence and disconnect of the past. I am trying to come to terms with the violence against the KabiKabi/GubbiGubbi, the land, and my own body. I try to understand and disable the violence and to be a witness to what has occurred, to my self and to others. So I listen. I listen to the Traditional Owners and their deep wisdom of and connection to Country, I listen to Country and its deep wisdom of and connection to people, and I listen to my body, its deep desire to be at peace within this place - to end the violence.

These drawings are made with a method of sensorimotor mark making. I use this method to connect with Country in a deeply immersive manner - to listen fully with my body. To let a conversation between my body’s sensory receptors and Country take place.

These are records of the deep reverence that can exist between bodies of land and flesh - petitions against the destruction of their unity. Love poems to Country, teaching me to come home, teaching me to become home. *I would like to acknowledge that this work was made on Kabi Kabi/Gubbi Gubbi Country, and to pay my deep love and respect to Elders, past, present and emerging 🖤❤️💛

Being with. Trying to figure out how. Difficult things. Being here, history, relationships with this place, history of this place, asking this place to show me how. Kindness. ...

Happy #worldenvironmentday Don’t forget, as Bandaid sang in 1985, ‘We are the world’. We’re all connected, be kind. 💚💚💚 Maybe this year you could commit to learn some new local knowledge from the First Nations people of your place. Most areas have a website, with information and wisdom that can only be gained with occupation and observation of an area for more than 40,000 years. #worldenvironmentweek #kabikabicountry #wearetheworld #localknowledge #bekindtoyourselfandeveryoneelse ...

Being with; mistletoe, fungi, blood, witches brooms (eucalyptus gall), various bacterial and plant inks, dirt, copper, woad, moss, lichen, bodily fluids, rust, pomegranate, ferns, rocks, automatic drawing, ochre, my body moving with this place in Kabi Kabi Country, the elements of land showing me how to be here, be with, in balance. Long slow wet press between mulberry bark paper. (Detail) ...

More information here: https://facebook.com/events/s/black-lives-matter-sunshine-co/312159859793297/?ti=icl ...

🖤 Always #blacklivesmattereverywhere #aboriginallivesmatter #noblackdeathsincustody #nobombingsacredsitesffs 🖤 ...

Tangled bodies floating within and without creek bends and lily ponds. Medicine. ...