Power Play

power play
noun (definition)
the cultural tensions manifesting, either intentionally or
unintentionally, between two concurrent exhibitions in one art
institution.

Art exhibitions, almost by
definition, are carefully planned
and curated for display. From
initial concept through to
realisation, the process leading
up to exhibition openings
requires a vast field of
knowledge and focus – so involved
in fact, the role of a curator
has become a profession in its
own right. For a curator, the
measure of an exhibition’s
success may be attributed to any
number of measures, among them
favourable art critic reviews,
high visitor numbers or feedback
from audiences, either positive
or negative.
In Australia, major art
institutions such as the National
Gallery of Australia and the
National Gallery of Victoria, run
multiple exhibitions concurrently
on tight programmes – constantly
juggling diverse themes and
artists across linked spaces –
offering audiences an everchanging
melting pot of visual
culture. Thus, when each
curator’s exhibition is realised
and presented in its allocated
space, it shares the spotlight
with its neighbours.
Both voices of each exhibition
aim to be heard, engaging
audiences for favourable reviews,
for artists’ work to be admired,
to incite conversation. But what
happens when one exhibition’s
voice speaks louder than the
other? What happens when one
exhibition’s message is subverted
by the theme of the other? At
what point does an institution
take into account the impact of
two exhibitions and consider the
ethical balance of what is being
presented?
In contemporary Australia, it is
common for institutions to hold
exhibitions concurrently with
representation of Indigenous
cultural practices and colonial
or European art. In their own
right, each speaks to a rich
heritage of culture and creative
practices. What do audiences
perceive when they witness the
colonizer and the colonized in
the same institution? Does the
gaze of the colonizer and the
colonized upon each other create
cultural tension? What power play
does it incite in audiences’
minds? This project will consider
three such exhibitions pairings
shown in Australian art
institutions within the last ten
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years. Examining what is
presented to audiences, each
institution’s presentation of
both exhibitions will be
considered and key questions will
be asked. What is the cumulative
effect of an institution
presenting two narratives side by
side? Is there a power play at
work?
power trip
Making the day trip to the
regional Bendigo Art Gallery from
Melbourne is a full day
commitment - one that had been
planned well in advance. The sole
intention of the day trip was to
see two exhibitions: Body
Politics: Contemporary Works from
the Collection and Tudors to
Windsors: British Royal
Portraits, a collaboration with
the National Portrait Gallery in
London.
According to the gallery’s
website, Body Politics would
‘bring together a multitude of
voices’ exploring multiculturalism
and post-colonialism
to challenge ‘dominant
narratives’. Furthermore, the
Bendigo Art Gallery’s newly
appointed First Nations Curator,
Shonae Hobson – a Southern
Kaantju woman from Coen, Cape
York Peninsula - had curated the
exhibition, so it was a
significant milestone not only in
the display of works but in
Hobson’s appointment.
Tudors to Windsors, on the other
hand, would present a collection
of noteworthy portraits and
costumes from five Royal
dynasties by the ‘most important
artists to have worked in
Britain’. The gallery suggested a
minimum of two hours in the
exhibition to allow sufficient
time to experience all of the
royal portraits and soak it all
in. Interestingly, that is not
quite how the day panned out.
Approaching and entering the
Bendigo Gallery, Queen Elizabeth
II greeted me everywhere.
Visually dominant and larger than
life, her portrait draped the
external wall outside the gallery
facing the street, on the main
wall past the ticket counter, and
at the entry door leading into
the gallery rooms.
3

Bendigo Art Gallery, entrance, 2019
4

Waiting in line to enter the
exhibition rooms, I turned to the
rear of the room where the public
toilets were and was struck by
something that provoked a doubletake.
A digital advertising sign
on the toilet entry wall
displayed a fleeting message in
black text on white before
flipping to an ad about the
upcoming Balenciaga exhibition in
Spring.
Wait again to get the full text.
‘Bendigo Art Gallery acknowledges
that the City of Greater Bendigo
is on Dja Dja Wurrung and
Taungurung Country... we would
like to acknowledge and extend
our appreciation to the Dja Dja
Wurrung People, the Traditional
Owners of the land that we are
standing on today...’
Bendigo Art Gallery, entrance to Toilets
I caught a few words and stunned,
pulled myself out of the waiting
line as I wanted to be sure what
I had seen. As people went in and
out of the restrooms, I waited as
more ads churned on the digital
screen. Then at once, the black
on white text was back and I
couldn’t believe it.
‘Acknowledgement of Country’ it
said. ‘We acknowledge the peoples
of the...’ Oh wait, it’s gone
back to the Balenciaga ad again.
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Chris Levine, The Lightness of Being, 2014
I turned and looked at Chris
Levine’s portrait of Queen
Elizabeth II - The Lightness of
Being - looming large on the
gallery entry wall. In this
portrait, ironically, her eyes
are closed. Maybe she doesn’t
like what she is seeing either?
Is anyone else seeing what I am
seeing? Has the intent of Body
Politics been shut down at the

front door before it even got a
chance to speak? Is there a power
play going on here?
Wanting to give voice to Shonae
Hobson’s Body Politics, I moved
into the first exhibition room
and spot the Body Politics entry
text. Reading the description, it
stated the “importance of the
political voice” - how the
displayed artists utilise the
body as a site to discuss issues
of colonisation, masculinity and
femininity.
Looking around the sterile white
cube, Emily Kame Kngwarreye,
Naomi Hobson, Michael Cook and
other renowned Indigenous artists
are represented – the plain white
labels in english talk of
Indigenous peoples, remote
communities and the Dreaming.
Naomi Hobson’s A Warrior without
a Weapon offers a portrait of
quiet resilience, an Indigenous
man’s quiet presence gazing off
in the distance, not looking at
me. Navigating around this space,
the Queen arises again at the
halfway point – to usher me on to
the Tudors and Windsors’
exhibition that has taken over
the rest of the exhibition rooms
in the gallery.
Looking around the room, Shonae
Hobson has curated a gentle and
diverse group of artists but I
can’t help but feel overshadowed
by British Royalty peering at me
from every angle. Somehow the
possibility of a conversation of
post-colonisation has been shut
down and replaced with visual
Imperial dominance.
Spending time in the exhibitions
at the Bendigo Art Gallery, it is
evident that considerable
thought, consideration and
planning has gone into each
exhibition. The finesse of the
respective curators in selecting
the works, texts and installation
all contribute magnificently to
the audience experience. Seeing
one without seeing the other –
each is powerful and insightful.
Naomi Hobson, A Warrior without a Weapon, 2018
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Take the blinkers off however,
and see both – see the
institution with all facets of
the exhibitions and the gallery
layout contributing to a much
larger, all-encompassing
conversation.
The dominance of the Queen
throughout, the placement of
Indigenous art in a ‘walk
through’ room to the Royal
Portraits and the
‘Acknowledgement Country’ placed
insensitively on a toilet wall,
it leaves me wondering. Was the
Institution awake when they
planned this?
Naomi Hobson, A Warrior without a Weapon, 2018
Andy Warhol, Queen Elizabeth II, 1985
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power politics
Critiquing an art institution is
not new. The decisions and ethics
of institutions – their sponsors,
funding and acquisition practices
and the exhibitions contained
within art institutions - have
long been scrutinised. Not only
can they incite conversation
about what they represent, they
may also become the motivation
itself for artists to create new
works. In fact, in some circles,
institutional critique is itself
considered an art form. Hans
Haacke, a German artist living in
New York since the 1950s, is
among those to have become
renowned for artworks framed
around this methodology.
Haacke’s method of enquiry into
institutions and their ethics
emerged in the 1960s – targeting
an institution or an artwork by
researching its sources and
background. At times, Haacke
presented his findings as
exhibition proposals to the very
institution he was critiquing,
cultivating a creative tension.
In what he describes as the
‘consciousness industry’, Haacke
proposes that all art works have
a social and political impact in
that they have the power to
influence. 1 In Haacke’s view, the
influence can be both positive
and negative - on the one hand
the institution may offer muchneeded
education to its public
but on the other, it may be a
propaganda machine producing a
carefully constructed narrative
to steer audience minds. 2
Hans Haacke, Manet-PROJEKT ’74, 1974
A notable example of Haacke’s
critical method is Manet-PROJEKT
’74 (1974). Delving into the
provenance of the Museum Ludwig
in Cologne’s 1974 acquisition of
Manet’s Bunch of Asparagus
(1880), Haacke discovered that
the donor of the work, Josef Abs,
had been a financial controller
in the Nazi regime. Haacke
identified the chain of
provenance - nine distinct
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transactions tracing back to the
Nazis.
How could the museum accept work
from a former high-ranking Nazi?
Through Haacke’s proposed display
of the provenance certificates
lined up on the gallery wall
surrounding the Manet oil
painting, Haacke called into
question the ethics of the
institution.
Unsurprisingly, the institution
rejected Haacke’s critical
artwork, refusing to display the
evidence of their affiliations.
What is the museum saying to its
German public when it acts in
this way? Is it ethical to
display artworks at whatever
cost? Does politics really
matter?
The power play between artist and
institution may be tenuous when
critique is presented. Gordon
Bennett, an Australian artist of
Indigenous Australian and Anglo-
Celtic heritage, submitted a
proposal to the Art Gallery of
New South Wales (AGNSW) for the
2008 Sydney Biennale, suffering
the same fate of rejection as
Haacke. 3 Offering a distinct form
of institutional critique,
Bennett interwove the
complexities of Australia’s
colonial history and decolonising
methodologies - proposing to turn
the AGNSW’s world literally
upside down.
Bennett proposed an intervention
for the Biennale - all of the
nineteenth century landscapes in
the Gallery would be mixed in
with Indigenous works and instead
of hanging them as would be
expected, turn them upside down.
Trees would be upended, the earth
where the sky once was. Bennett
sought to disrupt the traditional
colonial narrative and instead
blend all works together,
disorienting everything’s place
in post-colonial Australia.
Although the 2008 Biennale
curator, Carolyn Christov-
Bakargiev supported Bennett’s
proposal to reorder art history,
the institution overpowered her
decision. 4 Citing the potential
damage to the paintings if hung
upside down, the institution
rejected Bennett’s proposition.
They refused to present an
exhibition where traditional
methodologies were turned on
their ear. Why would the AGNSW
reject the endorsed curator’s
proposal? Was it really about the
potential damage to artworks or
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was it something else? Was it a
power play?
Eugene Von Guerard: Nature
Revealed & unDisclosed:2nd
National Indigenous Art Triennial
– National Gallery of Australia
(NGA), Canberra, 2012
Gordon Bennett, Untitled (Concept model
for Biennale AGNSW), 2008
Bennett’s proposal to enact an
institutional intervention – to
dislocate from the past and
intersperse Indigenous and
colonial art together – was never
realised. The artist created a
model of his proposal instead –
demonstrating his failed vision –
which ironically was acquired by
the AGNSW for its collection.
The artist’s rejection from the
institution leads to questions –
why did the institution refuse
the proposal but accept Bennett’s
model? Is it possible to have
Indigenous and colonial or
European art exhibitions
displayed together without the
institutional dominance of the
colonial? Will there always be a
power play no matter what
curators and artists intend?
Australia’s National Gallery in
Canberra hosted these national
touring exhibitions concurrently
during the winter of 2012.
unDisclosed had been delayed
twice since the first triennial
in 2007 due to gallery funding
cuts however, the 2010 event was
finally realised in 2012 with
guest Curator Carly Lane, a
Kalkadoon woman from the
Queensland region. 5 Lane brought
together 20 contemporary
Indigenous artists’ work under
the theme of ‘undisclosed’ –
referring to what can and cannot
be spoken, what can and cannot be
revealed in Indigenous cultures. 6
According to Lane, Indigenous
cultural practices may have
invisible meanings [...to
outsiders] and this triennial
would be an opportunity for
Indigenous artists to choose
their narrative – to reveal or
not – within their chosen art
works. 7 The participating artists
- Tony Albert, Vernon Ah Kee, Bob
Burruwal, Michael Cook, Lorraine
Connelly-Northey, Nici Cumpston,
10

Fiona Foley, Mirdidingkingathi
Juwarnda Sally Gabori, Gunybi
Ganambarr, Julie Gough, Lindsay
Harris, Jonathan Jones, Danie
Mellor, Naata Nungurrayi, Maria
Josette Orsto, Daniel Walbidi,
Christian Thompson, Alick Tipoti,
Lena Yarinkura and Nyapanyapa
Yunupingu – exhibited works in
five rooms, grouped thematically
by Lane – ‘Family, Ritual and
Country’, ’Invisibility, Silence
and Memory’, ‘Belonging’,
‘Manifesting Presence’ and
‘Revelation’. 8
Works such as Nici Cumpston’s
Nookamka Lake’s 2008 series and
Christian Thompson’s video
installation Heat (2010) were
featured in the exhibition, along
with Michael Cook’s Broken Dreams
2010 that also took the honour of
gracing the exhibition
catalogue’s cover. 9 Ranging from
traditional bark paintings to
digital photography, Lane curated
an intriguing mix of mediums and
voices for audiences.
Concurrently, the ‘Eugene Von
Guérard: Nature Revealed’
exhibition was held on the ground
floor and level one, occupying
the most prominent NGA gallery
space. Curated as a national
touring exhibition by Dr Ruth
Pullin, an Art Historian
specialising in von Guérard’s
work, the exhibition presented
what the NGA described as
“arguably Australia’s most
important colonial landscape
Nici Cumpston, Campsite V, Nookamka Lake, 2008
11

Eugene von Guérard, Mount Abrupt, The Grampians, Victoria, 1856
painter”. 10 Featuring more than
150 works by the European artist,
Dr Pullin presented a collection
of meticulously detailed
landscapes of Australia and New
Zealand from the 1800s which the
NGA described as containing
‘environmental significance’ due
to von Guérard’s scientifically
accurate specimens depicted in
his landscapes, an attitude
inspired by the influence of
German scientist, Alexander von
Humboldt. 11
The implication of von Guérard’s
scientifically accurate
landscapes, combined with the
exhibition title stating that
nature is revealed, suggests that
von Guérard was painting
historical truths, depicting
precisely what was occurring in
Australia’s landscape during
colonisation. The idyllic scenes
of vast Australian terrain with
rarely any Indigenous people
depicted, offers a traditional
colonial narrative of an
unoccupied land – ‘Terra Nullius’
- of a land conquered by
12

adventurous, intelligent
Imperialists.
Pullin’s choice of exhibition
title leaves little room for
doubt – that the vision von
Guérard offers is reality, that
all has been revealed. According
to Paul Fox, Pullin’s choice of
exhibition title reduces nature
to one single, political vision
of Australia, reinforcing the
Imperialist goal of global
dominance. 12 If the exhibition
title raises this question in
isolation, what happens when it
is experienced next to Lane’s
unDisclosed in the NGA?
One exhibition says it reveals
all, the other states that all
may not be revealed. Von Guérard
gives power to the coloniser,
unDisclosed gives power to the
Indigenous artist. How does the
visitor engage with both
exhibitions? The language alone
suggests that the coloniser
narrative is truthful and
scientifically accurate, the
other invites the visitor to
experience what may or may not be
implied. Throughout both of the
exhibitions, all text is in
english – the wall labels,
catalogues, educational
materials, the audio tours.
Christian Thompson, Heat, 2010, still from Three channel video installation
13

The written word emanates power
to the dominance of the colonial
– english erases Indigenous
language, scientific
specimenization conquers nature.
If language suggests power to the
colonizer, what does the visual
say?
colonized. Combined with similar
content throughout both
exhibitions, it echoes the
residual dominant power of the
colonial. Not only does the
colonial control the historical
past, it controls the NGA space
in the present.
Lay both exhibition catalogues
side by side and the colonial
narrative thrives. One offers an
idyllic landscape of an unspoilt
waterfall in lush nature, the
other, from Michael Cook’s Broken
Dreams (2010), offers an
Indigenous woman colonized, both
in dress and horizons. The
catalogue cover label
‘unDisclosed’ suggests words and
dreams are left unspoken, while
the settler ship looms in the
background. There are no idyllic
waterfalls or landscapes in sight
– only a whitewashed scene of the
Would the visitor experience
differ if the prime gallery space
was allocated to unDisclosed? The
colonial voice has long been
established in Australia as the
dominant voice. Rather than
continuing to overpower the
colonized, would it have been
better to let them speak in their
own language, give them equal
footing, equal prominence in the
institutional framework? Was it
intentional of the NGA to set
these exhibitions like this or
was there something else at play?
Ruth Pullin & NGV, Eugene von Guérard:
Nature Revealed (Exhibition catalogue),
2011
14
unDisclosed:2nd National Indigenous
Triennial (Exhibition catalogue), 2012

Exhibition poster, Colony: Australia 1770-1861 / Frontier Wars, NGV, 2018
Colony: Australia 1770-1861 &
Colony: Frontier Wars, National
Gallery of Victoria – Ian Potter
Centre (NGV), Melbourne, 2018
Melbourne’s NGV designed a twopart
exhibition in 2018 exploring
Australia’s colonial history both
from the colonial viewpoint and
from the Indigenous. Designed to
be seen together, each exhibition
was curated to be held in
Melbourne on the 250th
anniversary of Captain James Cook
setting sail to explore the
Pacific. 13 According to Tony
Ellwood, NGV’s Director, Colony:
Australia 1770-1861 would present
15
the most comprehensive collection
of Australian colonial art to
date – offering a vast survey of
art and craft produced during the
early years of Australia’s
colonisation up to 1861. 14
Curated by Catherine Leahy, Susan
van Wyk, Judith Ryan, Alisa
Bunbury, Myles Russell-Cook and
Rebecca Edwards – the colonial
exhibition consumed the ground
floor of the Ian Potter Centre
with more than 600 works on
display. Upon ticketed entry, the
visitor is reminded of
Australia’s historical context
with a row of Indigenous wooden

shields lining the entrance hall
– the wall labels resonating the
colonial rhetoric of ‘Terra
Nullius’ with each shield
attributed to ‘Unknown’ after
‘Unknown’. This acknowledgement
of Indigenous presence offers a
quiet protest to the notion of a
vacant land but underpins the
Imperialist model of deidentification.
artist, Richard Browne that were
produced in the 1800s emanate the
primitivism of non-Europeans.
Interspersed amongst the
scientific displays, are
portraits of the European
settlers. Fine oil paintings loom
large on the gallery walls,
presenting a dominating vision of
foreign oversight. Augustus
Earle’s Captain John Piper
(1826), hanging beside a portrait
of his family, Mary Ann Piper and
her children (1826) offer an
irrefutable presence of colonizer
expectations to uphold European
standards and traditions in early
Australian settlement.
Artists unknown, Wooden Shields, Colony:
Australia 1770-1861, NGV, 2018
Colony: Australia 1770-1861
follows an anthropological line
through its gallery rooms –
displaying paintings from the
likes of Joseph Lycett and John
Glover, through to curiosity
cabinets and taxidermy. Almost
museum-like rather than fine art,
the objects displayed resonate
the colonial narrative of
specimenization of flora, fauna
and everything found on
Australia’s land. Watercolours of
Indigenous peoples by convict
Richard Browne, Burgun, 1821
16

Augustus Earle, Captain John Piper,1826
Augustus Earle, Mary Ann and her
children, 1826
The visual distinction of
European finery versus the
primitive treatment of the
Indigenous repeats throughout the
exhibition rooms reinforcing the
colonial narrative, eventually
leading visitors to exit back
into the entrance hall of the
NGV. On exit, a sign points to
the nearby escalator inviting
visitors to see its free twin
exhibition on level 3 - Colony:
Frontier Wars.
17
Travelling up two floors to view
the Indigenous exhibition,
Colony: Frontier Wars, the
distance is palpable. The
separation of exhibitions perhaps
reflects the colonial methodology
of the European settlers –
setting Indigenous people a good
distance away from the prime real
estate. The eeriness of the
spatial separation is reinforced
upon entry into the Indigenous
exhibition with Julie Gough’s
Chase (2001). Specially
commissioned for the NGV,

Gordon Bennett, Terra Nullius, 1989
Trawlwoolway woman Gough suspends
a grid of tea trees from the
gallery roof, offering an
interesting parallel to the
entrance of the earlier
exhibition with the line of
wooden shields. Certainly, it is
the curatorial group’s intention
to place Gough’s work at the
entrance but is it also their
intention for visitors to compare
it to the other exhibition?
earlier anthropological approach.
Indigenous artists such as Brook
Andrew, Julie Dowling and Gordon
Bennett contribute to an array of
contemporary art in various
mediums - paintings sit
comfortably alongside video
installations and sculptures.
Gordon Bennett’s Terra Nullius
(1989) illustrates the
contradiction of Europeans’
settling in a supposedly
unoccupied land with Indigenous
figures appearing faintly in his
painting however, their presence
is overwhelmed by the imprint of
the Union Jack.
Julie Gough, Chase, 2001
Navigating through Frontier’s
exhibition rooms, it is evident
that this is more of an art
exhibition as compared to the
Wiradjuri/ Celtic artist, Brook
Andrew’s sculpture Vox: Beyond
Tasmania (2013) offers an
intriguing interpretation of a
curiosity cabinet with a display
of skulls and bones inside a
glass box but significantly,
Andrew has attached a large
wooden gramophone to the cabinet
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– offering a visual metaphor for
the artefacts’ voice.
opportunity to delink from that
power?
Brook Andrew, Vox: Beyond Tasmania, 2013
Importantly, the wall label notes
Andrew’s reference to a 1909 book
by Richard Berry – documentation
of Berry’s collection of
Indigenous skulls in Tasmania –
with Andrew lamenting the
destructive colonial habit of
collecting Indigenous bones as
trophies. 15 One can’t help but
recall the curiosity cabinets
seen on the ground floor and
consider what those bones might
say. Notably, along from Andrew’s
work, Indigenous breastplates are
displayed with wall labels
attributing them to an artist
‘Once known’. How can the same
institution describe artists like
this but then label them as
‘unknown’ in the twin exhibition?
Is the relegation of ‘unknown’
intended to signify the colonial
mindset or is it a missed
The language and voice of the
colonial dominates throughout
these exhibitions. Although the
institution should be
acknowledged for creating this
pairing, it is difficult to
suggest the NGV is giving equal
voice to both. English words are
spoken throughout the twin
exhibitions – no Indigenous
language is spoken, beyond naming
the country that Indigenous
artists come from in Frontier
Wars. Most certainly, the spatial
prioritisation given to the
colonial view speaks louder than
words. With the ground floor
consumed by the coloniser view
and the Indigenous separated by
distance on the third floor, this
floor plan reinforces the
Imperialist notion of separation
and segregation.
Installation photograph, Colony:
Frontier Wars, NGV, 2018
19

John Glover, View of Mills Plain, Van Diemen’s Land, 1833
Compounding this tension, is the
NGV’s play to force visitors to
pay for the coloniser exhibition
yet flaunt the Indigenous
exhibition for free. Is the
Indigenous exhibition not worthy
of a ticketed price? Why pay for
one and not the other? Why not
adopt language where a purchased
ticket gains entry to both
exhibitions? The words stating
that Frontier Wars can be visited
for free when set alongside it’s
twin implies a value judgement.
Is the coloniser view simply
worth more than the Indigenous?
Although the NGV attempts to give
voice to both sides, the
institution still privileges the
colonial. In 2018, it is arguably
a better position than say, 20
years ago, when an institution
may not have even contemplated
running such exhibitions in
parallel. Considering the
institution’s actions in 2018, is
the NGV simply reinforcing the
deeply embedded colonial
framework? Did the institution
miss an opportunity to delink
from the colonial power or was
something else at play?
20

John Mawurndjul: I am the old and
the new & Picasso: The Vollard
Suite, Art Gallery of South
Australia (AGSA), Adelaide, 2018
In late 2018, AGSA opened two
exhibitions to their visiting
Adelaide audiences – staging John
Mawurndjul, an Indigenous artist
from the Northern Territory
alongside one of the world’s
arguably most renowned artists,
Pablo Picasso. Both exhibitions
were curatorial collaborations
with other major Australian art
institutions - designed to tour
nationally and coinciding at AGSA
for the Adelaide summer.
John Mawurndjul, a Kuninjku Elder
and artist from Central Arnhem
Land, is renowned for his fusion
of traditional and contemporary
art and according to AGSA’s
exhibition website, is one of
Australia’s leading contemporary
artists. Wording such as
‘celebrated internationally’,
‘innovative’ and ‘groundbreaking’
flow freely – talking
to the ‘dazzling radiance’ of his
artistic talent. Calling out
Mawurndjul’s ‘rarrk’
specialisation – a meticulous
cross-hatching method that the
artist utilises in his works -
AGSA praises the virtues of the
contemporary Kuninjku painter.
Installation view, John Mawurndjul: I am the old and the new, AGSA, 2018
21

The exhibition comprises more
than 160 paintings and sculptures
by Mawurndjul – notably, the
first major survey of the
artist’s work held in Australia
even though the artist has been
producing work for more than four
decades. Alongside curators
Clothilde Bullen, Natasha
Bullock, Nici Cumpston and Dr
Lisa Slade, the artist himself is
acknowledged as co-collaborator
in the development of the
exhibition – an unexpected but
welcome addition to the
curatorial group. Entering the
exhibition set in the lower
ground level of the AGSA
building, John Mawurndjul’s
influence is immediately felt.
Although the focus is the art,
the wall texts and labels capture
immediate attention. This
exhibition is bilingual – words
are written in Kuninjku,
Mawurndjul’s language, and
english. The artist speaks
through wall labels and audio
tours – telling stories of his
culture and his country, with
english translations for the
Balanda ... [Balanda is the
Kuninjku word for a European or
non-Kuninjku person]. Fine bark
paintings line the gallery walls
– works depicting Ngalyod,
John Mawurndjul, Ngalyod – The Rainbow
Serpent, 1985
the Kuninjku rainbow serpent
using Mawurndjul’s rarrk method -
his cross-hatching technique
using natural ochres resonate
throughout the gallery. Lorrkkon
- Kuninjku for wooden log coffins
- are interspersed amongst the
rooms, elevating Mawurndjul’s
cross hatching from
22

flattened stringy-bark to three
dimensional experiences. The
works are installed and treated
like fine art – there is no
primitive or anthropological
treatment here. The white cube
has been painted a dark grey,
perhaps to mimic an earthiness -
to let the walls drift into the
background and let the works
shine.
John Mawurndjul, Mardayin at Dilebang,
2004
According to the exhibition
catalogue, also bi-lingual, the
curatorial team visited John
Mawurndjul in his country many
times during the exhibition
development phase, seeking an
understanding of his culture, his
country and his desires for the
direction of this exhibition. 16
Importantly, this collaboration
enabled Mawurndjul to direct the
curatorial team on works to be
included and how they would be
displayed. Rather than follow a
traditional approach, Mawurndjul
stated his exhibition should
follow his cultural order – works
to be grouped by moiety (ritual
group) - and by location or
country as is the Kuninjku way.
Although it may be argued that it
is difficult for a Balanda to
navigate and interpret, there is
an abundance of text and
23

educational materials to engage
with Mawurndjul’s works.
Upstairs from Mawurndjul,
Picasso: The Vollard Suite is
displayed concurrently in AGSA.
Like Mawurndjul’s work, the
Picasso exhibition is spread
across three gallery rooms,
although this time tinted by
dusty pink walls. The Vollard
Suite presents a collection of
Picasso’s sketches that were
commissioned by his art dealer,
Ambroise Vollard, in the 1930s.
Although Vollard tragically died
before Picasso could hand over
the commission to him, the
collection remained in tact and
subsequently became known as The
Vollard Suite – a
perpetual dedication to the art
dealer who had supported
Picasso’s early career.
In this 2018 exhibition cocurated
by Sally Foster from the
National Gallery of Australia and
Maria Zagala from AGSA, The
Vollard Suite is presented in a
curatorial grouping that was
originally conceived in the 1950s
by art historian Hans Bollinger.
When Bollinger prepared the
sketches for an exhibition in the
1950s, instead of ordering them
chronologically, he grouped the
sketches by theme - The Plates,
Battle of Love, Rembrandt, The
Sculptor’s Studio, The Minotaur,
The Blind Minotaur and Portraits
of Ambroise Vollard. Picasso’s
Installation view, Picasso: The Vollard Suite, AGSA, 2018
24

sketches are hung through AGSA’s
rooms, grouped by theme with
accompanying wall texts to
explain both Picasso’s technique
and discuss the content.
acknowledged as both brilliant
but contentious in a considered,
sensitive frame.
Arriving at the ‘Battle of Love’
grouping, it is hard to ignore
Picasso’s sketches as depictions
of rape – something that curator
Maria Zagala acknowledges in the
wall labels. Referencing the
graphical content, Picasso’s
sketches are presented with
content warnings. According to
the exhibition catalogue, Picasso
modified themes of love with
bestiality: sometimes
superimposing himself as a
Minotaur- a mythical monsterinto
a sketch, acting as a player
in scenes of erotica or acts of
rape and carnage. 17
Pablo Picasso, The Vollard Suite (38),
1933
Although confronting, the
language and care taken with the
presentation of Picasso’s
sketches is well considered.
Audience engagement has been a
key consideration here as curator
Maria Zagala confirms: presenting
information around Picasso’s
works - neither condemning nor
praising its content - allows
visitors to engage with what is
presented. 18 It is an interesting
treatment of a master’s work
Pablo Picasso, The Vollard Suite –
Minotaur caressing a sleeping woman
(93), 1933
25

Reflecting on these two masters’
presentations, AGSA presents an
intriguing dynamic. Picasso,
acknowledged for his brilliant
techniques and discussed in
context to his cultural
influences, is presented as fine
art. The artist is celebrated but
AGSA brings it into a
contemporary setting –
acknowledging that some of the
artist’s sketches may be seen in
a different light in 2018.
There is a balance of power here
– each exhibition speaks loudly,
from their own place. There is no
dominance over the other, no
underlying institutional agenda,
no power at play – what is felt
is authentic acknowledgement of
two brilliant artists laying bare
their artistic souls.
Powerful indeed.
John Mawurndjul’s works are
presented in acknowledgement of
his brilliance and most
significantly, his Indigeneity is
not erased by the white cube.
Mawurndjul’s Kuninjku language
speaks volumes – wherever there
is english, John Mawurndjul
speaks his native tongue
alongside. His works, by his own
choice, are presented in his
cultural belief system – by
moiety, by country. Yes, it may
not be logical to [Balanda]
visitors but this is the artist
laid bare. Mawurndjul’s art
speaks his truth, his spirit. And
perhaps Picasso’s sketches lay
bare his soul too – sketches with
no holes barred, the artist
speaking their truth.
Jacques Henri Lartigue Cannes, Picasso. 1955,
National Gallery of Australia, Canberra.
Rhett Hammerton, John Mawurndjul, Maningrida,
2018.
26

Bendigo Art Gallery, Bendigo 2014
This project has considered the
tension that arises when two
exhibitions contend with each
other in linked spaces - either
intentionally or unintentionally.
Importantly, I acknowledge that
each exhibition has offered a
clear vision with curatorial care
taken to present the artworks in
the best possible light. I intend
no disrespect to the curators and
artists - my critique has
focussed on the institution and
the powers at play.
Although I have focussed on first
impressions when visiting the
exhibitions, I acknowledge that
there may be more that has not
been considered such as other
exhibitions occurring at the same
time and other visitors’
opinions. Hans Haacke focussed on
‘behind the scenes’ whereas I
focussed on what was presented in
the gallery spaces.
Considering all of these
exhibitions, some pairings were
more successful than others.
Where some institutions stumbled,
others shone. The Bendigo Art
Gallery stumbled with the
‘Acknowledgement of Country’
however, appointing Shonae Hobson
as First Nations curator and
funding Body Politics must be
applauded as a significant step
forward. In Canberra, the NGA
struggled to fund ‘unDisclosed’
for 3 years but never gave up on
the 2nd Indigenous Triennial,
finally holding it alongside
Eugene von Guérard’s Nature
Revealed. In Melbourne, the NGV
could easily have shown Colony:
Australia 1770-1861 as a
celebration of Captain John
Cook’s voyage without considering
the Indigenous response. That
said, the twin exhibitions could
have been better staged to offset
the power of the dominant
colonial narrative.
27

Langton, a Yiman and Bidjara
woman, asks if reconciliation can
come from an artwork and I wonder
if a collection of diverse
artworks can do that too. 19 Can
reconciliation arise via an
institutional space?
From top left to right: Julie
Gough, Susan van Wyk, Brook Andrew,
Shonae Robson, Catherine Leahy,
Christian Thompson, Dr Ruth Pullin,
Carly Lane with artists, Myles
Russell-Cook.
Finally, AGSA’s presentation of
two masters – John Mawurndjul and
Pablo Picasso – stands out as the
most exciting possibility of
successful co-habitation in an
institution. By acknowledging the
art and the artist, and letting
their work speak, it gives power
to each voice. For each artist,
their Indigeneity is key –
presenting what has been created
naturally for each artistic soul
in their own place, their
country. Professor Marcia
Perhaps Indigeneity is key to
institutions countering the power
plays that might occur in linked
gallery spaces. Step out from the
colonial narrative of distinction
and separation. Instead embrace
each artist’s history by
relinking to it with a new
narrative - acknowledging all
past and present and give equal
voice to all. Instead of leaning
into the colonial power of old,
lean out and give space to others
to share the stage in their own
way. with the institution
facilitating togetherness.
Not a power play, but a power
grid. All parts contributing to a
diverse, balanced environment
that is strong and durable on all
sides. As John Mawurndjul and
Pablo Picasso’s exhibitions at
AGSA demonstrate – a balance of
power within an institutional
framework is entirely possible.
28

29

References
1. Haacke, Hans. Free Exchange (Oxford:
Polity Press, 1995), p.2.
2. Ibid.
3. Do Campo, Fernando. "The National
'INSTITUTION'." Art Monthly Australia,
no.301 (2017),62.
4. Mcdowell, Tara. "The Post-Occupational
Condition." Australian and New Zealand
Journal of Art 16, no. 1 (2016),28.
5. National Gallery of
Australia,”unDisclosed: 2nd National
Indigenous Art Triennial”, accessed 25
September, 2019,
https://nga.gov.au/exhibition/undisclo
sed/default.cfm?MNUID=6
6. Ibid.
7. Lane, Carly, Cubillo, Franchesca and
National Gallery of Australia.
undisclosed: 2nd National Indigenous
Art Triennial, (Canberra: National
Gallery of Australia, 2012),9.
8. Ibid.
9. Ibid,10.
10. National Gallery of Australia,
“Nature Revealed”, accessed 22
September, 2019,
https://nga.gov.au/vonguerard/
11. Ibid.
12. Fox, Paul. "Eugene Von Guérard:
Nature Revealed." Australian
Historical Studies 43, no. 2 (2012):
303-11.
13. National Gallery of Victoria,
Colony: Australia 1770-1861/ Frontier
Wars exhibition catalogue, x.
14. Ibid.
15. National Gallery of Victoria,
Colony: Australia 1770-1861/ Frontier
Wars - wall labels, retrieved from
https://www.ngv.vic.gov.au/wp-
content/uploads/2018/01/Colony-
Australia-1770-1861-Large-Print-
Labels.pdf
16. Altman, Jon, Bullen, Clothilde,
Bullock, Natasha, Cumpston, Nici,
Garde, Murray, Kohen, Apolline, Moon,
Diane, Munro, Keith, O’Callaghan,
Genevieve, Perkins, Hetti, Slade,
Lisa, Taylor, Luke & West, Margie.
John Mawurndjal: I am the old and the
new. (Sydney: Museum of Contemporary
Art Publishers, 2018), 19.
17. National Gallery of Australia,
Picasso: The Vollard Suite (exhibition
catalogue), Canberra: National Gallery
of Australia, 2017), 26.
18. ArtsHub, ‘Showing Contentious Art
in MeToo Times’, accessed 2 September,
2019,
https://visual.artshub.com.au/newsarticle/features/visual-arts/ginafairley/showing-contentious-art-inmetoo-times-257152
19. Marcia Langton, ‘Can
Reconciliation come from an artwork?’
in Ian Mclean (ed.) How Aborigines
invented the idea of contemporary Art
(Brisbane: Institute of Modern Art and
Power Publications, 2011), 306.
30