I was saddened to learn last night that Michael Leunig has died at the age of 79. It’s as though a little part of Australia has died with him.

Leunig’s family announced his death with these befitting words, 

“The pen has run dry, its ink no longer flowing – yet Mr Curly and his ducks will remain etched in our hearts, cherished and eternal.” 

25 years ago, Susan and I were enjoying dinner at a friend’s home when I saw it hanging on the wall above the dining table.  It was a drawing of a man sitting at a grand piano. The man had a particularly large rounded nose, which I had seen before.  There was little colour on the canvas. Like Matisse, the artist conveyed all he needed with two or was it perhaps three tones. 

The etching was simple and clean, almost like a cartoon.  It conveyed something of the simple pleasures accompanying the piano. As someone who had until that time spent virtually his entire entirety life learning to play this magisterial instrument, I was immediately drawn to his work by Michael Leunig; it made sense to me.

Leunig’s cartoons, drawings and paintings communicate life and provoke us to question and consider the Divine design behind the canvas.

Life is beautiful. Whether it’s the inquisitive duck or his vibrant trees or musicians,  Leunig painted a beautiful life. Life is precious and is a wondrous gift.  Acknowledging God who gives life, is both an obligation and a joy. 

Imagine their existing a masterful painting on the wall at home and never stopping to gaze upon it, to understand and enjoy it. How often do we walk about and consume and enjoy the world without stopping to give thanks to the one who designed and enables us to live and participate?

Leunig was renowned for his use of subtle humour to elucidate critical thinking and moral evaluation. It reminds me a little of Jesus who added humorous, almost silly liners while teaching things of great import, 

“You blind guides! You strain out a gnat but swallow a camel”

“It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.”

One of Leunig’s better-known drawings is this betrayal of Jesus’s crucifixion. In a mood faithful to the original crowd who mocked Jesus on the cross, Leunig paints a soldier calling out,

“Look at that? Brilliant! You kill the leader and you nip the whole movement in the bud”.

The joke is on us. The cross makes us fools. The cross turns our power into ineptitude. Indeed, the joke is on us, filled with intellectual hubris and moral certainty, as we turn down the only redemption available.

Leunig’s work pushes us to say ‘no’ to ambivalence. It is a gentle and humorous rebuke toward an Australian culture that even today wishes to paint over the most pivotal moment in history.

I know next to nothing about Leunig’s personal life. Whether in concert or in contradiction, his work conveyed a bright message that is being overshadowed by a compounding grey.

Today Michael Leunig no longer needs his paintbrush, for he gets to see his Creator, the One who crafted with his word every colour and shape and mountain range, every ocean and even the stars. And the pinnacle of his creativity, making us, his image bearers.

Again life is beautiful. And life is too easily cut short even at 79 years of age. Life ebbs away, and the blotch of tragedy, sadness, and yes also, evil marks every home. How much do we need a story where such things are overcome.