Listen to the earth

Robyn Jean

There is a deep connection to the earth if we only listen. Most of us live in the city, with noise congestion, people moving and talking, like a blanket covering the earth, blocking the connection between us. This photo essay is about stripping back that noise, about taking ourselves to a place where the earth is beneath our feet, where our hands can feel, and our hearts will know. 

  • A woman sits in the middle ground of the photograph, looking at the ground to the right of the frame. Her dark-brown hair is tied low in a neat bun. There are words tattooed on her neck in slanted writing. She is wearing a dark navy-blue hoodie.

    The young woman sits on the red earth with her shovel and digs for honey ants. An ancient practice still used today. She smiles and shovels the earth for a while. 

  • An Elder in a black and red polo, which says “Aboriginal” in yellow writing through the middle of an outline of Australia, leads a group of teenagers and a blonde-haired woman through the red-dirt bush. The trees behind them are out of focus.

    An Elder shows the way, the young listening to her voice. Everything is quiet, even the birds. 

  • The Elder bends down near a grey tree in the middle of the photograph and digs with a short shovel into the red dirt. Her other hand holds onto a thin pole The teenagers watch from around her.

    The young people gather around quietly as the Elder studies the earth, looking for signs of the honey ants. She is listening with her whole being. She knows this Land, the earth, the seasons. She learnt this from her mother, who learnt this from the generations before. “Listen” they said, and she listened. 

  • The Elder and the woman in the hoodie are both staring down at the ground. The Elder smiles, both of her hands holding onto the pole.

    Now, mother teaches daughter. They sit on the red earth together and hunt for the honey ants. Their feet dig into the dirt, their hands work in a rhythm, they are listening to the earth. 

  • The Elders hand reaches towards the red dirt from the left side of the frame towards where the head of a honey ant can just be seen.

    Elder’s hand, tenderly reaching to hold an ant's egg. This she knows is a sign the ants are close by, nestled in the tunnels they have created. 

  • In the middle of the frame, the Elder is placing something into her open palm as she crouches on the red dirt.

    Quietly showing the young people the signs that honey ants are close by. There is respect in how she works on the soil. There are thousands of years of stories here, of women hunting ants for the camp to feed and nourish the people. She shares this practice with us and urges us to listen to respect and practise caring for Country. 

  • The hand of the woman in the hoodie reaches towards the red dirt from the left side of the frame. There is a gold band on her fourth finger.

    The young woman’s hand – gentle, purposeful, connecting, listening, and learning. 

  • A honey ant is positioned in the middle of the picture, crawling on the red dirt. The body of the honey ant is translucent, except for two black stripes, and filled with golden liquid.

    From the cool earth, a honey ant is placed for the young to see, its large belly of golden honey glistening in the sun.  

  • The honey ant is positioned in the right-hand corner of the photograph, crawling on the red dirt, which sticks to its swollen body. At the bottom of the photograph, there are more out-of-focus honey ants.

    These ants have a purpose in their tiny tunnels. They are there to provide food for the worker ants. They hang upside down so that the workers can feed from the honey. For over 40,000 years, these honey ants have provided food for the First Nations people too, the caretakers of the land. 

  • On the right side of the photograph, the woman in the hoodie crouches in a hole in the dirt as she uses the short shovel to dig out of frame. To the right of her, the Elder sits on the dirt, her leg and foot in the hole. The image is slightly out of

    The shovel moves, digging down to reveal the golden honey ants. The women listen with their feet and hands. 

  • The woman in the hoodie holds onto the pole on the left-hand side of the frame as the Elder points at the dirt on the right-hand side of the frame. The image is slightly out of focus.

    A successful hunt for honey ants requires listening to the land, following the practice given to them by their mothers, and being patient and gentle. We can learn so much from this way of listening. 

Robyn is a Noongar/Yamatji photographer and multidisciplinary artist whose work explores the intersection of body, memory, and Country. Drawing from personal and collective histories, Robyn uses photographic documentary and digital layering to evoke the fragile yet resilient surfaces of lived experience—where skin becomes a symbol of both shielding and storying.