Above my house is a steep-sisided hill with a volcanic rock rising from the top. – the plug of a volcano, which I hope is extinct.
It’s a very special place, that was used by the local Maori tribe in days gone by as a burial ground. It was totally tapu, and though some of the tapu has since been removed, it is still a place of mystery that demands respect and carries memories that reach deep within the psyche.
Until recently, we had kiwis on the hill and often heard them calling at night. I can remember one night being outside late in the dark, when suddenly an unbelievably guttural, loud, wailing cry resounded from deep in the bush on the slopes above the house. Everything I know about the history of the place hit me in a flash. The hair rose on my neck, and an icy trickle ran down my spine. I shot inside the house as if something horrific was on my tail.
This painting says it all. It combines the outline of the hillside against an early night sky with the flare of the rising moon and my rendition of an ancestral figure casting his cloak across the sacred mountain.
Enjoy!
Patricia
Paste your code here!Popularity: 10% [?]
Tags: burial, figure, cry, guttural, neck <BR/>
