Wilkinkarra refers to the large salt lake in the north side of Pintupi country, also known as Lake Mackay. In addition to its ties to the Pintupi, Wilkinkarra also has Tjukurrpa connections to Kukatja people from Wirrimanu (Balgo) and to some Warlpiri people to the east. Two important ancestral narratives are identified with this area. One, involving a Lirru (King Brown Snake ancestor) comes through Wilkinkarra from Karrinyarra (Central Mount Wedge) in Warlpiri Country, and passes through the area on the way to Nyinmi in the west, leaving salty waters along his path. This poisonous snake is said to have left the depression that forms the lake bed by coiling and uncoiling as it rested and then, burned by fire and thrashing around, created the shape and size of the lake before traveling west. As it traveled, Lirru left salt lakes and claypans as he shed burnt skin before arriving, in weakness, at Nyinmi, where a Bandicoot ancestor bit his head and he died.

Another narrative identifies Wilkinkarra with two old men and a group called the Kanaputa women. The details of this Tjukurrpa vary regionally, as it is told by people from the Wirrimanu or people from the south. The Kanaputa women from the west approached a group of old men who were leading a group of younger initiates, whom they had in hiding. The women asked for meat, which the old men gave them. But then—depending on the version of the story—either seeing the bright red headbands of the young men or noticing a spear head still in the meat, the women realized there were young men present and desired them. The Kanaputa women had intercourse with the young men, angering the jealous elders, who then set fire to the spinifex. The fire engulfed everyone, killing them. But the women, it is said, revived and traveled underground and escaped to head north. Wilkinkarra—the salt lake—formed as a result of the fire and the ashes left behind.

The subject of Nyilyari’s paintings are very close to those of his father, Pinta Pinta Tjapanangka, depicting the Tingarri ancestral narratives related to sites near Wilkinkarra (Lake Mackay) and Kaakurutintjinya (Lake Macdonald). The Tingarri were a group of ancestral beings who travelled over vast stretches of the country during the Tjukurrpa, performing rituals and creating sacred sites. Like his father, Nyilyari Tjapangati tends towards dichromatic compositions, using either red or black to delineate his forms, before filling in the background with white. Unlike his father – and indeed, most of the painters at Papunya Tula – Nyilyari does not use dotting to infill the backgrounds. Rather, he covers the entire background, before scratching an echo of his figures into the surface of the paint using a stick or paintbrush. While this technique appears in the work of some older artists – notably Johnny Yungut Tjupurrula and Tjunkiya Napaltjarri – it is rarely as systematically applied as in Nyilyari’s paintings. The fading repetition of the principal motifs gives Nyilyari’s work a mirage-like pulse evocative of the shimmering desert heat. The effect is a throbbing visual “hum,” like the after-image of a blinding flash, as though Nyilyari’s designs were burnt upon your retina. This is a powerful metaphor for the residue of the ancestral travels: the spiritual energy of the Tjukurrpa that pulses through the landscape.