Leon Namai: The First Nations Artist Who Paints Stories in the Sand

The Reef Trail
For most artists, a canvas is fixed—paper, fabric, a screen. But for Leon Namai, the canvas is as fluid as the tide. A proud Indigenous artist from the Warrangu, Kaanju, and Kaurareg tribes, Leon carves intricate, large-scale designs directly into the sand, blending ancient storytelling with the impermanence of nature. His art isn’t just something to be seen—it’s movement, meditation, and cultural expression, created in rhythm with the tides.

Discovering the Art

Leon’s journey as an artist began in childhood, nurtured by his mother’s quiet yet powerful creativity. He first picked up a pencil as a young boy, later expanding his skills across painting, lino printing, ceramics, digital media, and even music. In 2003, he formalised his training with a Certificate IV in Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Visual Arts, but his learning never stopped. For Leon, creativity is a lifelong exploration, always guided by a desire to tell stories through art.

The inspiration for his sand art came unexpectedly while traveling along Australia’s East Coast. He had seen Indigenous artists using sand as a storytelling medium on Instagram, but it wasn’t until he encountered large-scale beach artworks in person that something clicked.

"I thought, ‘I’ve got drones, I can create art—I’m going to give this a go,’" he recalls.

The Rhythm of Creation

What sets Leon’s sand art apart isn’t just its striking scale, but the way he works with the land to create it. He doesn’t simply draw in the sand—he carves with his feet, using the natural textures of the shore as part of the composition. It’s a full-body experience, a ritual that connects him to Country.

"I see it in my mind, then I carve it out in the sand with my feet. It cleanses me, releases toxins—it’s exercise, but it’s also a way to speak my mind on nature’s canvas," he explains.

His designs, shaped by the ebb and flow of the tides, often feature Indigenous symbols representing connection, resilience, and unity. Each piece is temporary, existing only for a few hours before the sea reclaims it—an artistic reminder of the cyclical nature of life and storytelling in First Nations cultures.