Shaping Rememory at the Biennale
Jack, you’re the First Nations Curatorial Fellow for the 2026 Biennale, working with Artistic Director Hoor Al Qasimi. What’s your role, and how’s Rememory hitting you?
“Mate, it’s an honour,” Jack says, his voice calm but warm, weathered by years of storytelling. “I’m advising Hoor on the First Nations program, championing artists like Ethan Tjampitjinpa, Chloe Wirrpanda, and Tjungkara Ken, plus global mob like Cannupa Hanska Luger and Ángel Poyón. My job’s curatorial support—shaping their works at White Bay Power Station and beyond—but it’s also cultural care, ensuring artists feel safe and their stories are told right.”
He leans back, reflective. “Rememory’s a ripper theme, from Toni Morrison’s idea of reclaiming suppressed histories. For First Nations artists, it’s truth-telling—our stories, our way. We’re showing 15 new commissions, from Aṉangu spears to Yolŋu carvings. It’s a platform for voice, especially post-2024 Voice referendum. Artists are saying, ‘We’re still here, loud and proud.’” Jack’s work bridges global Indigenous stories, creating a dialogue across continents. “It’s about connection, not competition,” he adds.
Why Indigenous Narratives Matter
The Biennale’s amplifying First Nations voices big time. Why’s that crucial now?
“First Nations narratives are the heart of this country,” Jack says, firm. “For 65,000 years, our stories—on Country, in ceremony, through art—have carried knowledge and resilience. Colonisation tried to silence that, but art’s our way of reclaiming space, from bark paintings to Ethan Tjampitjinpa’s digital murals. The Biennale’s a global stage to show that diversity, from Torres Strait to APY Lands, and connect with Indigenous mob worldwide.”
He gestures, animated. “After the referendum, there’s a hunger for truth-telling. Artists like Warraba Weatherall or Carmen Glynn-Braun weave ancestral memory with today’s fights—land, climate, identity. When you see Chloe Wirrpanda’s Art Party 2.0 at White Bay, with Aṉangu heroes dancing, that’s joy and strength shouting back at history.” Jack’s curated shows prove Blak art belongs centre stage. “It’s about being seen as artists, not just ‘Indigenous artists,’” he says.
The Curatorial Journey: From Queensland to Sydney
You’ve curated for decades—how do you approach First Nations art?
“It’s always about the artists and their Country,” Jack says, sipping his tea. “I start by yarning—listening to their stories, their mob, their vision. I’ve curated shows letting Kaiadilt colours sing. For the Biennale, it’s the same—whether it’s Ethan Tjampitjinpa’s films or Tjungkara Ken’s sculptures, I’m here to amplify, not control.”
He chuckles. “It’s not all glam—there’s heaps of logistics, like getting spears from APY Lands to Sydney! But the heart’s cultural care. I work with elders, communities, to ensure respect. Hoor’s collaborative vibe makes it easier—she’s open to Blak perspectives. I’m building on past fellowships, keeping that legacy tight.” Jack’s global gigs shape his lens. “Our art’s loved overseas—Sydney’s a chance to show it at home,” he says.
Jack’s Sydney Cultural Haunts
You know Sydney’s art scene inside out. Where should tourists go to feel its pulse?
“Sydney’s a cultural beast, mate!” Jack grins. “Start at Carriageworks in Redfern—raw, massive, with Blak performances or exhibits like Yangamini’s dance. Then, the Art Gallery of NSW’s Yiribana Gallery—Barkandji works, Yolŋu paintings, pure power. It’s free, near Circular Quay.”
He leans forward. “For something gritty, Newtown’s laneways—King Street’s murals by Dennis Golding are like open-air galleries. 4A Centre in Haymarket’s got bold Asian-Australian shows, and Chinatown’s nearby for a feed—try Golden Century for salt-and-pepper squid! Don’t sleep on Badu Gili at the Opera House—First Nations projections at sunset, featuring mob like Esme Timbery. It’s magic.” Jack’s picks scream diversity, from Gadigal land to Western Sydney. “Grab a beer at The Glenmore in The Rocks—harbour views’ll spark your soul,” he adds.
What’s Next for First Nations Art?
With the Biennale in full swing, what’s your vision moving forward?
“We’re just getting started,” Jack says, eyes bright despite his years. “The Biennale’s a launchpad—artists like Tjungkara Ken or Edgar Calel are showing what Indigenous art can do. I want more platforms where Blak voices are central, not tokenised. I’m mentoring young curators to keep the fire burning, and working on projects like art fairs to connect collectors ethically.”
He gets serious. “It’s about sovereignty—cultural, artistic, economic. We need more First Nations curators, galleries, spaces. Globally, I see connections—like our mob linking with Māori or Native American artists. The Biennale’s a step, but the journey’s long.” Jack’s optimism shines. “Art’s our truth-telling tool—always has been, always will be.”
Tips for Your Biennale Art Chase
Jack’s energy’s contagious, so follow his lead! Hit White Bay Power Station for his First Nations commissions—bus from Wynyard, check the Biennale app for free entry. Carriageworks is next for Blak performances; Redfern Station’s close. Wander Yiribana at AGNSW in the arvo, near Circular Quay. Newtown’s murals are a morning must—train to Newtown Station. Catch Badu Gili at sunset, then feast in Chinatown. Don’t try to do it all in one go—I did that once and was buggered! Book ticketed events online, and let Jack’s work, from Wierdi Country to Gadigal land, inspire you to soak up the Blak brilliance.
