You realise the 'brick wall' is an illusion.
“What d’you think, Auntie Pat?” Ali sings out to her aunt who is sitting on the ground at the other end of the wide verandah. She proudly holds up the painting she’s been working on. Its colours gleam in the bright light.
“It’s real good, Ali,” Pat shouts back. “You let somethin’ go I reckon. You bin here a week now, painted every day, just like your grandma used to.”
Ali sets the canvas down on the ground again and studies it carefully. It makes her heart sing to look at it. The wet paint has responded to her mark-making in ways she had not expected. There is a melody playing in her head as she tracks over the beautiful blending of pinks, yellows and sky blues. She loves the boldness of its black background. Picking the painting up carefully, she walks over to Pat. She sits down cross-legged beside the old woman. Pat goes on quietly with her own painting, dipping the brush in the little pots and applying the colours gently to the surface of her canvas.
Ali waits. She closes her eyes. Up close she hears the minute sounds of Pat’s brush on the canvas. There is a cicada scratching a discordant tune in the peppercorn tree beside her. Occasionally she picks up the sound of a crow in the bush over near the shed. Away from the shelter of the verandah the sun burns relentlessly. Ali can feel the luxurious warmth of it on her arms even in the shade. This is her country. It’s in her bones. And in her head.
Pat lays down her brush.
“So, you happy to be here?” she asks nonchalantly.
“It’s not like last time,” Ali replies firmly. ”When Mum brought me here all those years ago I wasn’t ready. I wanted to be a white girl then. At school I always felt not quite one or the other. Not black, not white. Neither.”
Ali fiddles with the buttons on her shirt. It was painful for her to remember how confused she had been.
“You pretty angry those days,” Pat suggests. “Banging your head against the wall don’t help. Your mum show you proper country, your place. But you had eyes shut. Not seeing. Now you see. It’s there. In your painting. Your Dreaming.”
Ali had stopped banging her head against that illusory wall of prejudice and misunderstanding a couple of years ago.
“It’s good to be here. With you, Auntie Pat. Learning about the country, my family.”
Ali spreads her painting out on the ground beside Pat’s. She acknowledges the peace she feels in her heart.
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6 comments:
What a magical story Kerry. I don't know how you got so much into such a short story. At first it's just 2 artists chatting away, so present to what's going on. I'm wondering where the brick wall can be. It seems like heaven. (I can relate to the cicadas, the crow in the bush, the hot sun so easily)
And suddenly the force of what Ali has been through hits so unexpectedly. The story takes a twist and we get Ali's pain and confusion.
And finally that it was all illusion.
For improvement I would look at clearing up a bit more on what Ali's back story is. I'm still a bit confused after re-reading it 4 or 5 times. There was no restriction on word count in this one so you could have taken liberties.
From Gordon:
I really like: “It’s real good, Ali,” Pat shouts back. “You let somethin’ go I reckon. You bin here a week now, painted every day, just like your grandma used to.”
The brick wall of prejudice is so well portrayed and the freedom that comes from removing it.
For me the backstory was a bit cryptic and could have been a little stronger on the experience and history of prejudice.
From Gordon:
I really like: “It’s real good, Ali,” Pat shouts back. “You let somethin’ go I reckon. You bin here a week now, painted every day, just like your grandma used to.”
The brick wall of prejudice is so well portrayed and the freedom that comes from removing it.
For me the backstory was a bit cryptic and could have been a little stronger on the experience and history of prejudice.
Eve says:
Simple story of a young woman who's built her own brick wall and then dismantled it herself.
My favourite bits are your scene setting, Kerry. Where you have the two artists painting in the beauty of the bush.
The characters were not very defined. I'd like to know more about Ali's story to make me appreciate how difficult it might have been to know over the brick wall.
Kerry this is a fantastic story, told with all your heart. Its the story of Ali and her background and her art. when she was confused about her place in life. Now she is at one with herself and her country.
I love it a lot. The emotion and descritption of Alis painting is beautiful and has wonderful imagery. I love "It makes her heart sing and the melody in her head". I love how she gets into Pat's world, sits on the ground beside her. The para where Ali has her eyes shut and is hearing in so much detail, the sounds of the bush is so present, so clear.
Not much to improve on. Just get it published somewhere. Maybe part of your thesis?
I love this story, Kerry. One of my favourites of yours. You play very artfully with 3 favourite themes - the land, painting and the aboriginal experience.
The first para sets the story beautifully. I've got the house/verandah clearly in my mind; the women and their age difference; the colourful painting. The second para gives us the theme, the culture and the backstory. So much in so few words!!!
And THEN those 2 powerful paras where we get into Ali's world. So evocative. Wow.
Maybe a little work on the conversation about the breakthrough - but it's so close to perfect. Hmmm. A little thing: "Ali replies firmly" is a different mood from "Ali fiddles with her buttons". Maybe "firmly" isn't quite right. She's still figuring it out at this stage. Firmly doesn't come until the last para.
Anyway, it's a keeper. Use it in your course.
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