The Range of Lights

I painted this piece a while ago, though its story has never left me.
It was sparked by a story an uncle once told me— about a range out on Kalkadoon Country, where the min min lights dance across the horizon like spirits at night.
He said that on some nights, when the air is still and the country breathes softly, you can see dozens of them — drifting, glowing, weaving through the dark hills. No one chases them; you just stand quiet and watch, because they’re not meant to be caught.
When I painted, I didn’t try to capture what they looked like, but what they felt like — that shiver of mystery, that knowing the land is alive and watching back.
Each brushstroke is a whisper of that story — of Country speaking in its own light.
The range, the night, the unseen — all of it reminding me that some things are meant only to be witnessed, not explained.