Acrylic on canvas, stretched and ready to hang.
Signed on the front.
Crossing the Nullabour Plain on the Indian Pacific train I witnessed the big encompassing sky hanging over a flat distant horizon. Likewise with driving thru the Red Centre the landscape burns its monotonous beauty into ones perception of the interior as the days of driving pass by. Kilometre after kilometre traveling on the tarmac road and and dusty side-tracks, where slowly ones consciousness becomes imbued with the silence and the vastness of the interior. The land starts to resonate a beauty that settles into quiet awe. There is no need to talk. And in the silence of the winds and the heat of the beating sun ones inner rythme attunes in accord with the pulse of the ancient land underfoot.