Portals to Place: Three Papunya Tula Artists in The World of Interiors

Sign in the Dotted Line by Holly EJ Black

Sacred knowledge is coded within the paintings of the Papunya Tula Artists, and for the uninitiated viewer, comprehension remains deliberately out of reach. Since the early 1970s, this revered creative co-operative has been both owned and run by Aboriginal people from Australia’s Western Desert, incorporating those predominantly of the Luritja and Pintupi language groups.

 

The collective was established at a time when forcible settlements were introduced by the government to ‘assimilate’ communities, thus attempting to eradicate ancient traditions and ceremonies in the process. Making new forms of art that remained deeply embedded within this heritage was, and remains, a vital act of resistance.

 

The Papunya Tula Artists tread a careful line, both celebrating and promoting Indigenous art practice on an international scale, while employing meticulous abstraction and obfuscation so that hallowed knowledge remains concealed. Indeed, it was by translating ceremonial body and sand marks through acrylic paint that the language of dot painting so closely associated with contemporary Aboriginal art developed.

 
Right now, thousands of miles away in London, it is possible to encounter the work of three artists with deep generational ties to the group. Edel Assanti gallery has mounted a show that brings together Lorna Ward Napanangka, Yukultji Napangati (who formed part of the first generation of women to join the collective, in the 1990s) and John West Tjupurrula, a younger artist whose parents are both important members of the group.

 

A hand-painted welcome sign marks entry into Kiwirrkurra, one of the most remote Aboriginal communities in the Western Desert and a key place for Papunya Tula Artists. Its bold, symbolic imagery reflects the visual language of Country – where sacred sites and journeys are mapped through colour and pattern. Courtesy of Papunya Tula Artists and Edel Assanti. Photograph: Grace Dwyer

 

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From above, the desert resolves into an intricate composition of colour fields and organic forms – recalling the abstracted iconography of Papunya Tula works. What appears as emptiness reveals itself as a densely inscribed cultural terrain, shaped by movement, water, waru (traditional fire burning) and ancestral narrative. Courtesy of Papunya Tula Artists and Edel Assanti. Photograph: Matthew Cotter

 
These include Marrapinti, a space that heralds rituals involving ancestral beings, which only women can partake in – including giving birth. It has been a continual subject for Napanangka and Napangati. ‘Even though these two artists speak of the same site, the way that they situate it is quite different,’ says Zubrickaitė. ‘With Napanangka there is a sense of a static site, whereas with Napangati, the land is moving.’
 

In the case of the former, vibrant, stippling brushstrokes articulate Country (a term that describes the sacred interconnectedness of land, the wholeness of nature and human existence) in vivid shades of pink, blue, red and umber. Such a palette might seem fantastical, until you see evidence of the astonishing landscape itself.

Napanangka pioneered dot-painting techniques earlier in her practice, but approached this new style more recently in response to the onset of Parkinson’s disease. It also represents her deepening knowledge as an elder and custodian of sacred knowledge. Napangati was one such artist influenced by Napanangka’s style, and has gone on to develop her own distinct form of fastidious, rhythmic dot painting. The undulations and shimmering patterns seem to skate across the surface, never quite allowing the eye to rest. It is an incredible phenomenon that alludes to the intense heat of the desert, where visual perception is altered when taking in the horizon.

 

John West Tjupurrula moves through his ancestral desert Country. His presence in the landscape echoes the spatial logic of Papunya Tula painting, where journeys and sacred sites are rendered as both lived reality and visual memory. He is also a ranger working in land management, continuing to care for and maintain his connection to Country through ongoing stewardship and responsibility on the ground. Courtesy of Papunya Tula Artists and Edel Assanti. Photograph: Francis MacIndoe

 

As a second-generation artist, Tjupurrula (whose work is partitioned by way of the gallery’s walkway) has absorbed the work of both elder artists, and developed a practice that carries on this lineage, while incorporating more contemporary viewpoints. Following a trip in a helicopter, he experienced an aerial view of the land he protects as a ranger, for the first time.

 

Enamoured by this new perspective, he now consults drone footage to inform his fluid ‘double dotting’ technique, which maps arid land, water and vegetation, but also encodes closely guarded stories that tell of the movements of the ‘Tjukurrpa’, an ancient philosophy that connects people to the environment and their ancestors, beyond linear perceptions of time. ‘Seeing my Country from above changed my style,’ says Tjupurrula, ‘and now I paint my Country that way.’

30 April 2026
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