Prepare to be captivated by an exhibition that is as much a visual feast as it is a powerful statement of resilience and rebirth. The 5th National Indigenous Art Triennial: After the Rain is not just an art show; it’s a testament to the enduring spirit of Indigenous Australia, emerging stronger and more vibrant after a period of upheaval. But here’s where it gets thought-provoking: how does art heal, challenge, and redefine a nation’s narrative? Let’s dive in.
Imagine a landscape transformed by rain—deserts bursting into color, rivers swelling with life. This is the essence of After the Rain, a title that echoes the words of Tony Albert, its artistic director: “After the rain, there are always new beginnings.” Albert, known for his sharp critiques of cultural blindness through collage, has crafted an exhibition that feels like a giant mosaic. Each artwork, each room, is a piece of a larger puzzle, harmoniously telling stories of struggle, survival, and sovereignty.
But here’s where it gets controversial: in the wake of a failed referendum, the exhibition takes on a deeper meaning. As artist Aretha Brown poignantly notes, “It feels as if everything has been burnt down, but now the seeds are going to come back stronger and greener.” Her striking black-and-white mural, THE BIRTH OF A NATION: THE TRUE HISTORY OF AUSTRALIA, greets visitors with a bold timeline of colonization. Yet, in a move that sparks debate, Brown plans to paint over her own work before the exhibition closes, symbolizing the erasure of Indigenous histories—a painful reality still felt today. Is this act of destruction a form of protest, or a necessary reminder of what’s been lost? You decide.
Unlike its predecessors, this Triennial is intimate, confined to ten rooms, each dedicated to a single artist or collective. The tone is set at the entrance, where Vincent Namatjira’s portraits introduce the artists—not by name, but by image. It’s a subtle yet powerful shift in focus, prioritizing identity over labels. And this is the part most people miss: the exhibition isn’t just about art; it’s about connection, kinship, and the legacy of those who came before.
Speaking of legacy, Albert Namatjira’s presence looms large. Once dismissed by Australia’s cultural elite—one curator even displayed his work next to a toilet in the 1960s—Namatjira is now celebrated as a pioneer. His art, a bridge between Indigenous and Western styles, was more than just paintings; it was a declaration of pride and perseverance. The room dedicated to his family and community is a sensory explosion, anchored by a stunning stained-glass replica of his home at Lhara Pinta. Lit from within, it glows like a beacon, illuminating generations of creativity.
But here’s the counterpoint: while Namatjira’s story is inspiring, it also raises uncomfortable questions. Why did it take so long for his genius to be recognized? And what does his journey say about the ongoing struggle for Indigenous representation? These are conversations the exhibition invites—and demands.
From the celestial beauty of Naminapu Maymuru-White’s Milŋiyawuy (Milky Way), where visitors can lie beneath a starry canopy, to Jimmy John Thaiday’s haunting video Just Beneath the Surface, which confronts the ecological crisis in the Torres Strait, After the Rain is a multilayered experience. It honors stories, strengthens communities, and asserts sovereignty—all while challenging us to see deeper.
As Albert writes, “After the Rain does not seek to define, but to honor. It grows from Country. It speaks from artists. It moves with community.” This exhibition is a call to listen, to reflect, and to engage. What will you take away from it?
The 5th National Indigenous Art Triennial: After the Rain is on view at the National Gallery of Australia, Canberra, until April 26. Don’t miss it—and don’t shy away from the conversations it sparks. What’s your take on the erasure of Indigenous histories? Does art have the power to heal wounds that run deep? Let’s hear your thoughts in the comments.
