National Gallery of Australia, Canberra.

April 11 – August 23, 2026

Review by Anthony Frater. (Arts Wednesday)

It’s often said by critics and advocates of Indigenous art that you don’t get it until you get it, but once you get it you’re hooked, you’re a convert for life; and so, just when you thought first nations painting couldn’t get any better, more extraordinary, more encompassing – like jewelled talismans bought in from the desert – along comes Ngura Pulka, Epic Country, an exhibition on now at the National Gallery in Canberra. 

Commissioned by the Gallery in what’s been described as an “artist led exhibition”, it features 31 large scale works from First Nations senior artists from the Aṉangu Pitjantjatjara Yankunytjatjara (APY) Lands, Coober Pedy and Tarntanya/Adelaide, in South Australia – or to get a bearing that makes sense: the Central Desert in the remote northwest corner of South Australia in an area that covers about 103,000 square kilometres. These monumental works – arial views, like maps – celebrate Tjukurpa: law and culture, and an enduring deep connection to country.

The exhibition comes to us with significant baggage and controversy. Like so many of the great works throughout the history of art it’s a story that will forever now be part of this body of work’s history, a story that will forever sit outside the body of work – in this case stories of “money, art, fraud and culture”, as opposed to the timeless stories that sit within it – myth, truth, and mysticism.

Originally set to open in 2023, it was delayed due to questions raised around the authenticity of the works by a journalist in The Australian newspaper. The claim, supported by dubious video evidence, was made that some of the works produced were completed or designed – in terms of composition, colour and output – by white people: “white hands on black art” screamed the headline. Even the newspaper’s own art critic jumped on the bandwagon in support of his colleague in what could only be described as an insipid betrayal: inventing colourful yet meaningless criticisms – given the motivation behind it –  that could so equally be aimed at non indigenous art. I say motivation behind it because it’s more likely the debacle was used as part of a wider campaign by the Murdoch press juggernaut to undermine the ‘YES’ vote in “The Voice’’ to parliament referendum – cynical perhaps but truth is often hidden there.

If that wasn’t enough, some indigenous commentators even weighted in and argue that metaphysical descriptions of Indigenous art are just “romantic falsehoods” given them by white commentators who seek to give the works a mystery that might not even be there. At best this can perhaps be seen as black commentators justifiably reclaiming or reshaping the narrative to take back what they feel belongs to them; at worst, a case of ‘biting the hand that feeds you’. It’s like applying the same restrictive analysis to old Master works from the Italian Renaissance: the depiction of biblical stories or ancient Greek mythical stories share a lot in common with the Ngura Pulka collection of works in terms of the fundamental nature of reality, existence, the cosmos, being, and spiritual attachment.

Nonetheless after a number of lengthy investigations into the claims – including a State Government one which was ultimately handed over to some major regulatory bodies to examine – the NGA’s own extensive enquiry found the claims were baseless, there was not any kind of cultural fraud committed by the artists, or the local art centres that largely represent them. In fact the controversy continues in the Supreme Court of South Australia with the APY Art Centre Collective accusing the Newspaper and it’s journalist, Greg Bearup, of Defamation. Proceedings continue as at the time of writing. 

It’s worth nothing at this point that non Indigenous workers have been involved from the beginning in bringing indigenous works of art to not only a local market, but the world. Employed by Indigenous Art Centre committee elders, they have been and still are in many cases managers, marketers, sellers, buyers, and no doubt advisers in terms of teaching art practice principles. In 1971 it was a hopeful young art teacher, Geoffrey Barden, who encouraged the local elders at Papunya to move their designs and Dreaming stories from their bodies, weapons or earth, to canvas. The rules or tribal laws would nonetheless have been set down by the artists themselves, tribal law that dictated what was authentic and what was not, tribal law that dictated who could use and produce what designs and stories and who could not. Along with a growing pictorial brilliance it is these laws that dictate what is authentic and therefore what has monetary, ethical and moral value. 

The reasons might differ but like non indigenous art, First Nations art is held up to the same level of scrutiny, analysis and critique as non indigenous art. What criticisms and tests levelled at Indigenous art are similarly levelled at non indigenous art, whether it’s accusations of fraud, embezzlement or oversupply. A works value is set by the fact that a work is what it purports to be. If a buyer purchases a work they have to know it is genuine and it’s ongoing scrutiny in all art that ensures that this will remain the case.

And so we take a moment to imagine how these accusations made these artists feel. They were understandably outraged and bewildered, to think that there were those who thought they would so easily capitulate and allow a non indigenous person to have meaningful artistic influence on what is seen by some as sacred works of art that hold deep, let’s say spiritual meaning to the artists and their communities, it was a test of authenticity and their integrity. The irony being is that the controversy has likely increased the value of the collection.

With little else left ofwhat was, 60,000 years of culture evaporated in the space of 250 years, for these indigenous artists the land is their enduring reminder of permanence and continued unbroken existence. To them land is the embodiment or manifestation of their soul and the souls of those who have passed. The land was there then and it’s here now, permanent, unchanging, waxing and waning into eternity – it is essential to who they are and their place within it. And it is this land that is inspiration for their story telling, their Tjukurpa, their art depicting this deep connection to law, culture and place.

At this point it is best to let these extraordinarily stunning works of art speak for themselves, and to also hear what artist and APY elder Willy Kaika Burton has to say:

“Over the years I have tried to think of the different ways to communicate and express the relationship Aŋangu have with country. We think about and discuss what the right words might be to help an outsider understand this relationship, and what Country truly means to us. I think it must be almost impossible for outsiders to understand. How can you answer a question that asks where your soul lives? My sprit, my soul, is my country. It is my family. It is me.”