Wartunuma is an ancestral site associated with a species of flying ants of the same name that flew out from a cave there during the Tjukurrpa. Wartunuma burrow holes in which they lay their eggs, which hatch after heavy rains, signaling an oncoming period of growth and renewal. Goannas come out from their burrows and get fat on the young flying ants. An important symbol of fertility, their flashing wings and fantastic numbers are indicative of the ancestral presence of this place. The flying ants create flat beds or pavements known as Liinytji, which are used by men as a platform for ceremony. These black discs can be seen here in Wintjiya Napaltjarri’s painting of the site. After mating, wartunuma lose their wings and disperse to create new colonies. Their brief but spectacular life cycle is a metaphor for death and renewal.

For Wintjiya, the final act of each painting was all consuming as she surrounded her iconography in a swath of white paint. This illuminated each symbol in the same way that white ochre was used traditionally to encase body paint on naked breasts and arms. Using the wooden handle of a paintbrush, she embarked upon a rhythmic and lyrical process, dipping it deep into a pot of paint and then merging and dabbing dots together until all of the unpainted surface of the linen was covered in white. In my hours of watching this stage, the repetitive sound of this action became an allegory for the pulse of time and the knowledge that is passed through it.