‘This is the time we are in danger of being seduced by the idea that we have won,’ narrates Dalisa Pigram with quiet intensity during a powerful monologue in GUDIRR GUDIRR. The 2021 three-channel film is an adaptation of a performance conceived by Marrugeku co-director Pigram and Patrick Dodson. First performed in 2013, the subsequent video work is at once chilling, sombre, restless and rousing — and, in the darkened upper gallery of the Perth Institute of Contemporary Art (PICA), ranks among the most affective works PICA has shown in some time. In many respects, it is a return to form for PICA, whose recent programming has at times appeared erratic. Directed by Vernon Ah Kee and filmed in Rubibi (Broome), the film moves between eight or so main sections, incorporating found footage, Pigram’s evocative dance scenes and family portraits, set to a haunting score by Stephen Pigram.
At its core, GUDIRR GUDIRR is a sophisticated, non-teleological musing on the complexities and contradictions of Indigenous identity and politics. The titular Gudirr Gudirr (guwayi bird or bar-tailed godwit) is itself a metaphor, as it ‘calls when the tide is turning — to miss the call is to drown.’ The film opens with a shocking quotation from a 1928 report by Travelling Inspector Ernest Mitchell to Chief Protector A.O. Neville, the architect of the Stolen Generations and an ardent eugenicist. Mitchell’s chilling words introduce the first of many antinomies and complexities in GUDIRR GUDIRR, as he recommends to A.O. Neville that marriages between Broome’s Asian and Indigenous communities be permitted — not for any ethical or moral reason, but for its potential economic and industrial benefits. From here, GUDIRR GUDIRR moves introspectively through scenes charged with allegory: a monitor lizard with its head stuck in an empty can of VB; the hypnotic ‘this is the time…’ monologue accompanied by Pigram’s haunting contortions and motions; a carpark dance scene that transitions into a montage of found footage of organised fights among young Indigenous men; a particularly frantic scene of overlayed diatribes and insults that culminates in Pigram repeating ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’ until its meaning is all but lost; before a closing scene of portraits of elders and young people. This last act, along with the intergenerational team behind the production of the work, forms a particularly poignant conclusion. Perhaps this is too literal a reading of this nuanced work, but GUDIRR GUDIRR reminds us that there is no “way out” of history — only the opportunity to navigate the changing tides of the present through a deeper reckoning with our shared past.
GUDIRR GUDIRR is a powerful counterpoint to PICA’s concurrent exhibition Revealed: New and Emerging WA Aboriginal Artists. Since its first incarnation in 2008, Revealed has developed into a force of its own in the Western Australian artworld. It represents a huge geography and is something of a hybrid — a blend of art fair and survey exhibition. While there is much that is new about this year’s Revealed, its range, vibrancy and sales remain strong: on visiting during the opening weekend, only a handful of works were unsold.
Revealed had been formerly held at the Fremantle Arts Centre, where dense salon hangs, à la art fair, displayed on vibrant feature walls often rendered individual works difficult to discern. This year, the one-day art market was held separately across the square from PICA at the WA Museum Boola Bardip. Another recent change for Revealed is the leadership of the Aboriginal Art Centre Hub of Western Australia (AACHWA), an Aboriginal-led peak body now marking its tenth anniversary. Over the past decade, AACHWA has played an increasingly prominent role in the Western Australian artworld, acting as a union-like coalition for art centres and serving as an accessible public resource.
Throughout PICA's main gallery Revealed comprises works from WA art centres and by independent emerging artists working in diverse styles. A painting that stands out is Amanda Bell’s Miyak djinanginy (Moon seeing) (2025). It’s a lucid and lyrical painting: boldly gestural, rough yet spectral, with thin dry-brush marks of white that sweep across the canvas to form a lively image with a striking presence. Nuriah Jadai’s Walyunkurr-Mangala Mulnyi (2025) is another captivating work made through digital photographic manipulation, over which Jadai paints a hypnotic array of dots. The result is an unusually psychedelic optical effect. A hyper-vivid mineral or rock form is mirrored vertically, like a Rorschach test, bursting in yellow-gold and burnt umber. Indigo dots and gold leaf adorn the upper central section of the image. This hypnotic dedication to Mangala Country is as Jadai describes, ‘a mirage of beautiful things and thoughts rushing through my mind when I go out there and sit in silence. This is paradise to me.’
Another reflection on the power of Country is a collection of photographs by young people aged between five and 24 who have been learning photography through a mentoring program funded by AACHWA and Desart. The Juluwarlu Photography Collective’s works are intimate insights into life in Yindjibarndi Country, on the tablelands in the Pilbara: footies kicked around the outback; four-wheel drives navigating muddy tracks after seasonal rains; children playing in red dirt landscapes. At once joyous and melancholic, this collection of images offers a uniquely youthful window into daily life in remote Western Australia. Some works are less resolved than others, but seeking out the gems is part of the charm and excitement of survey exhibitions like Revealed, which highlight emerging talent. It is also a credit to curator Zali Morgan, who attempts to bring harmony to a wide variety of artworks.
While some have expressed surprise at PICA for hosting Revealed, citing its “art fair” inclinations, I see the pairing as ripe with potential. As fellow galleries increasingly present periodised historical exhibitions and focused solo shows of Western Australian Aboriginal artists, the role that Revealed must play may very well need to change. As this trend in exhibitions continues in WA, so too does the richness and complexity of its public’s understanding and appreciation of Aboriginal art. This is particularly potent when considered alongside the fact that Aboriginal art is one of WA’s most prominent cultural exports. Revealed and GUDIRR GUDIRR represent two artworld opposites: one, a festive survey exhibition and the other a focused presentation of a singular, piercing artwork. Each demonstrate the influence of intergenerational collaboration and the guidance of creative peers. This shared focus may well be how PICA advances Revealed into a deeper, more rigorous presentation of contemporary Aboriginal art in Western Australia.
