Two iconic Australian feminists, Ms Germaine Greer and Truganini, pose as rebellious matriarchs indulging in two male-only sports. Greer's early Georgian gown is a fine example of feminine opulence and refinement abundantly decorated with ribbons, bows and feathers. Contradictorily she assumes a belligerent stance leaning defiantly against a phallic cricket bat with two cricket balls lying idle at her feet. Does this represent the pictorial castration of a patriarchal sport or just a provocative challenge for gender equality? The flagrant action of discarding her brassiere is definately much more than a feminist folly.

Steve Urwin, the 'Crocodile Man', epitomised the 'boots and all' stereotype of the Australian male. His 'Crikey!' catch-cry caused a cultural cringe across Australia, appealing instead to a US market already primed by a charismatic 'Crocodile Dundee'. As Ms Greer calmly handles a sting-ray she controversially advises in hindsight 'Don't get too close to things that bite', which seemed insensitively barbed to some.

In the shadows of Ms Greer a poncy pubescent 'sportsman' becomes a perfect parody of her publication 'The Beautiful Boy'. Is he titillating or tormenting this aging author, or is he just a playful boyish mimic?

Behind Ms Greer a towering steeple vanishes into the divine heavens as totemic testament to her strict catholic childhood, or possibly her hedonistic days at Sydney University. Since leaving these colonial shores this eloquent expatriate has become a self-appointed oracle of Australian culture, regularly supplying sermons from the sanctity of a distant Motherland. A recent example is her essay 'White Fella Jump Up: the Shortest Way to Nationhood', in which she suggests we embrace our 'Aboriginality' to help ease our shame and guilt about our appalling treatment of indigenous people.

Truganini, 'the Last of Her Race', wears a rosary made from traditional green shells supporting a weighty crucifix. Does this symbolise her role in enticing the remnants of her race to join the crusade led by a christian zealot who herded his 'black sheep' onto Flinders Island? Here, sheltered from harm's way, this 'Shepherd of the Lord' tried to save these 'savages' by cleansing their black souls with daily rote recitals from the Lord's Book.

Truganini is portrayed as a 'Black Militaristic Mannequin', sporting a double-barrelled 'fire stick' casually slung over her shoulder. Is she mocking the farcical attempt at systematic genocide of the Aboriginals led by the Tasmanian military in 1830? She was branded a femme fatale by some, but was she really a saviour of her race? This native 'Nightingale' prophetically holds aloft three peasant-sized dodos like a beacon, warning her race of their impending doom. She also appears to be stomping her hobnail boot disapprovingly on the word 'Sorry', which has recently been scratched into the sand. Perhaps this hollow apology has ignited the memory of past platitudes and broken promises. Her discarded skull lies at her feet as a grim reminder of the fifty years her 'evolutionary' skeletal remains were on public display. The scientific fraternity stole their prize trophy in the dead of night, defying Truganini's dying wish of a peaceful resting place.

By Truganini's side a friendly red fox appears to be her companion on this hunting escapade. He seems to be gloating at the extinct Tasmanian Tigers. Perhaps his recent introduction into the Tasmanian landscape by environmental terrorists is the reason. Directly beneath the fox a native hopping mouse wears the freshly-cloned pelt of tiger stripes like Joseph's Technicolour Coat. Does this predict the future reintroduction of this once exterminated carnivorous marsupial?

The possibility of correcting past mistakes may not be simply black or white.