
It reminds me of a passage I've just read in a very iffy (if very well written) book which purports to be about the Aborigenes, Bruce Chatwin's The Songlines:
Le désert est monothéiste. Renan’s aphorism implies that blank horizons and a dazzling sky

To survive at all, the desert dweller — Tuareg or Aboriginal — must develop a prodigious sense of orientation. He must forever be naming, sifting, comparing a thousand different ‘signs’ — the tracks of the dung beetle or the ripple of a dune — to tell him where he is; where the others are; where rain has fallen; where the next meal is coming from; whether if plant X is in flower, plant Y will be in berry, and so forth. (222-23)
Chatwin was perhaps more of a nomad than the Aboriginal people he met around Alice Springs in the mid 1980s, but here he's on to something. I've enthused about Rover Thomas' paintings before (and love them still) but I'm starting to wonder whether they don't appeal so to the likes of me because they're full of solid expanses, empty of detail or bright color - the urbanite's view of the land, not that of the person who's made it her/his own in bare feet and knows every crag and the uses of every tuft growing on or under it.
Glad I stayed around long enough to start to see the world which paintings like Loongkoonan's describe!