The transformative rise of Indigenous and First Nations artists

18 Apr The transformative rise of Indigenous and First Nations artists

The wave of Indigenous and First Nations artists exhibiting in national pavilions for the first time is undoubtedly the Venice Biennale’s most significant development in recent years. In 2019, the Isuma collective became the first Inuit artists to occupy the Canadian Pavilion, with Zacharias Kunuk’s film, One Day in the Life of Noah Piugattuk (2019), recounting the forced relocation of Inuit people in Canada. Then the Nordic Pavilion transformed into ‘The Sámi Pavilion’ in 2022, with artists Pauliina Feodoroff, Máret Ánne Sara, and Anders Sunna illuminating an Indigenous community stretching from Norway to Russia, as Yuki Kihara became the first Pacific, Asian, and fa’afafine artist to represent Aotearoa New Zealand. Historic firsts continue at the 60th Venice Biennale, with Jeffrey Gibson becoming the first Indigenous artist to stage a solo exhibition in the US Pavilion; Glicéria Tupinambá marking the same milestone by renaming Brazil’s pavilion to Hãhãwpuá, the land’s ancient Pataxó name; and Inuuteq Storch raising a ‘Kalaallit Nunaat’ sign, for Greenland, at the Danish pavilion, as the first Greenlandic and Inuk artist to represent Denmark.

Glicéria Tupinambá. Photo of the Manto tupinambá [Tupinambá Mantle] that was woven to be part of the Okará Assojaba installation at the Brazilian (Hãhãwpuá ) Pavilion, 2024. Photo/Credits: Method av/Fundação Bienal de Sao Paulo.

Stranieri Ovunque – Foreigners Everywhere’, the Venice Biennale’s central show, likewise reflects a growing Indigenous presence among its 331 artists. The necessity for sustained engagement connects to the 2024 Venice Biennale, where ‘Indigenous artists have an emblematic presence,’ writes artistic director Adriano Pedrosa – emblematic being the operative word. ‘It’s important to be part of the conversation rather than the subject of it,’ says Mataaho’s Sarah Hudson, reflecting on the Biennale’s roots in colonial-era World’s Fairs, which notoriously displayed Indigenous people as exhibits. ‘We are continually critically analyzing where we are being platformed, and with international opportunities like this, we get to connect with other Indigenous creatives,’ continues Erena Baker. ‘Within our own homelands, we are treated as foreigners. It’s occupied land. So wherever we go, we have to represent ourselves regardless.’

Taloi Havini, Habitat, 2018. Image courtesy of the artist and Silverlens.

Havini is the curator of ‘Re-Stor(y)ing Oceania’ at Ocean Space in Venice, which opened this March. Site-specific commissions by Latai Taumoepeau and Elisapeta Hinemoa Heta have been conceived as a call and response within the church of San Lorenzo. Taumoepeau’s Deep Communion sung in minor (ArchipelaGO, THIS IS NOT A DRILL) is a 16-channel sound installation with recordings of the sea heard in the space, as eight standing paddle machines emit the voices of a Tongan youth choir performing the ancient ceremonial chant me’etu’upaki when paddled. The Body of Wainuiātea, named after the mother of oceans and waterways, follows. Heta used earthen bricks, fabrics, gourds, coconut oil, and timber to create an ātea, a ceremonial clearing that is opened and closed daily with a karanga: a Māori women’s spiritual call to welcome the living and ancestral.

Latai Taumoepeau, Deep Communion sung in minor (ArchipelaGO, THIS IS NOT A DRILL), 2024. Exhibition view of ‘Re-Stor(y)ing Oceania’, Ocean Space, Venice. Co-commissioned by TBA21–Academy and Artspace, and produced in partnership with OGR Torino. Photography by Giacomo Cosua.

The need to learn and connect in solidarity is becoming more urgent amid the climate emergency, which relates to landback as a movement to transform our relationships with earth as a living entity rather than property, and with each other. ‘In the context of climate change, the world stage and the local stage are not too different,’ says Taumoepeau, describing the proximity to sea-level rise, coming from a low-lying island and living in coastal Australia, as something she shares with Venetians. In that light, relationality is one way to connect with the Indigenous worldview, says Heta. ’Not to lump us together, and speaking from a Māori perspective, our strength is that we exist in relation to the water, mountains, and land, and we understand our genealogical relationship to them. Because of that, we can talk about our human and non-human relationships in a way that is very fluid, real, and tangible.’ As Taumoepeau states: ‘The invitation is for others to do that same labor.’

Elisapeta Hinemoa Heta, The Body of Wainuiātea, Exhibition view of “Re-Stor(y)ing Oceania”, Ocean Space, Venice. Co-commissioned by TBA21–Academy and Artspace, and produced in partnership with OGR Torino. Photography by Giacomo Cosua.

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