Before such a rockface, situated on a volcanic plateau, Makawe Tapu/Sacred Hair sees dancers Flannery, Chantelle Lee Lockart, and Jye Uren braid their long hair together, literally, in the weaving of knowledge and deepening of strength. Having previously, with their hair still fastened in a high plaited ponytail, each used the plait like a tail or rope with which to pull themselves upward, their loose hair plaited together creates a powerful image, in the story of Maui attempting to tame the sun.
“Horizon” opened with an expanded version of Sani Townson’s earlier 2023 work, “Kulka,” which suspended a large, angled mirror above the stage, and so, too, typified that the horizon line can be between the sea and the sky, the earth and the sky, and the celestial horizon, the sacred realm, beyond reach, but ever offering guidance with the Universe as Mother. As such, Kassidy Waters, Kiarn Doyle, Mateo, Bradley Smith, James Boyd, and Kallum Goolagong are viewed in two realms that appear alike, but at this angle, different. The embodiment of Danalayg (Life), which flows seamlessly into Bloodline, on the stage before me, in the reflected world above, they reveal the belief that we come from the stars, before slicing their way through the water in Koedalaw Awgadh/Crocodile God, in reference to Townson’s totem. The dark and glistening scales upon their linked bodies, in the mirror, clearly evoking reptilian hallmarks from this new vantage point.
Crossing the Birrarung (Yarra River), on my walk home, the wind whipped the surface water up high, perhaps in a bid to smudge the horizon line, and I thought about the earlier read words of June Oscar AO: “This knowledge is from long ago, listen to our voices.”[7]
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