Artist: Lyn-AL Young
Size: H 153 x W 198cms
Medium: Acrylic on canvas
Price: $7,000
Story: Growing in Knowledge, Deepening Connections Boonwurrung Country I walk ngurrak (Country), bare foot in the sand, breathing in the ngarga (air), listening for the songs within warreeny—the waves. I walk in the resonance of my Nan’s heartbeat. Born on her birthday, and given her name. Under her wings, I shall remain. My Nan, who embodied the stories of her Nan, and hers before that. She is my woven thread, binding me to Boonwurrung land.
Others see a shoreline— I see my songline. Through the shells, I feel protection— they whisper Wominjeka, you belong. Through the rocks, I feel conviction— solid, like old truths. Through the sand, I feel connection— each grain, a memory. Through the water, I see not only my reflection, but my Nan’s— her spirit embracing me.
I see traces of my ancestors—stories embedded in ochre and stone, their voices rising with the sea foam. In the nerran (rocks), I see resemblance— as if our women were carved into the cliffs, their presence held in small rock artefacts, made to remember their existence. And I am reminded in every shell, every breeze, every shimmer of water on my skin. Yulendj Laang May I grow in knowing, and deepen in belonging. May wisdom rise with the sun each morning, and settle in my heart each night. This is my prayer— painted in these pieces.
Artist: Lyn-AL Young
Size: H 153 x W 198cms
Medium: Acrylic on canvas
Price: $7,000
Story: Growing in Knowledge, Deepening Connections Boonwurrung Country I walk ngurrak (Country), bare foot in the sand, breathing in the ngarga (air), listening for the songs within warreeny—the waves. I walk in the resonance of my Nan’s heartbeat. Born on her birthday, and given her name. Under her wings, I shall remain. My Nan, who embodied the stories of her Nan, and hers before that. She is my woven thread, binding me to Boonwurrung land.
Others see a shoreline— I see my songline. Through the shells, I feel protection— they whisper Wominjeka, you belong. Through the rocks, I feel conviction— solid, like old truths. Through the sand, I feel connection— each grain, a memory. Through the water, I see not only my reflection, but my Nan’s— her spirit embracing me.
I see traces of my ancestors—stories embedded in ochre and stone, their voices rising with the sea foam. In the nerran (rocks), I see resemblance— as if our women were carved into the cliffs, their presence held in small rock artefacts, made to remember their existence. And I am reminded in every shell, every breeze, every shimmer of water on my skin. Yulendj Laang May I grow in knowing, and deepen in belonging. May wisdom rise with the sun each morning, and settle in my heart each night. This is my prayer— painted in these pieces.