Rows of seats faced the Opera House for the first viewing of Badu Gili, meaning ‘water light’ in the language of the Gadigal people, a celebration of First Nations art and storytelling on the Sydney Opera House’s sails.
People stood or sat on the chairs to watch the projection as it took its course, its patterns and sounds splintering the dark and turning hushed voices into mute whispers and upturned eyes. But Joseca Mokahesi Yanomami of the Yanomami people was on the floor, looking up from the ground. Moving images sprawled across the sails of the most iconic canvas in Australia, connecting nearby salt-soaked waters to the fecund forests of South America’s Amazon. Joseca swayed in a ball on the Forecourt, his eyes beaming as he watched his images come to life. I settled down next to him, and we grinned at each other as Pacific waves crashed against the sandstone rocks below.
This is the second time the Sydney Opera House, Biennale of Sydney, and the Fondation Cartier pour l’art contemporain have collaborated on this contemporary work of art. This year, Badu Gili: Healing Spirit introduces the Yanomami people, the Amazon's largest living Indigenous group, and features artists and siblings Marilyn Russell and Steven Russell with work honouring their mother, the Late Great Esme Timbery.
The living projections across the outstretched white sails connect land and people from close and afar, sharing family heritage and pride in a very public way. Tony Albert, Fondation Cartier pour l’art contemporain’s First Nations Curatorial Fellow, is an artist, curator and leading figure in Contemporary Australian art. He believes in First Nations-first cultural spaces and art’s role in reflecting history and modern society, and for his second year as Curatorial Fellow, wanted to create a “common thread of Indigeneity and knowing.” His guidance helped to Indigenise the space and elevate artists into pushing their work into the now.
“At one point, there's a still in the animation where the sails are covered in beautiful shells. They recall Timbery’s little Opera Houses, and people were basically in tears.”
At the opening, Fondation Cartier International Director Hervé Chandès emphasised how introducing Joseca Yanomami as the global voice for Badu Gili united Yanomami and Bijigal peoples, creating “a truth-telling through art” in the urban landscape. Joseca, the first Yanomami person to visit Australia, uses his work in Badu Gili to amplify the spirits, shamanic ceremonies, and rituals of his people. “We want our culture to be stronger, but it is threatened,” he said, joining the shared theme of creating a narrative of a previously unseen world — bound by Country and family, forged in a creative connection to culture and the art of storytelling.
Badu Gili is an opportunity that Albert hopes will continue to grow in the future, with more Indigenous artists taking part in shaping the artistic landscape. In his own words, there is a need to “decolonise space and work wholeheartedly on things in a progressive way.” Clearly, more cultural landmarks designed and built by First Nations people are needed. Projects like Badu Gili represent a step in the right direction, as they support Indigenous artists in sharing their work and collaborating on something so significant and internationally visible. “People are changing their perspectives, and major organisations like Fondation Cartier are listening and embracing these values,” he said, advocating for internationalising First Nations histories by taking art from the private realm of collections and galleries and bringing it to the public sphere.
Badu Gili creates a spectacle on a new scale, running for a year on Australia’s most remarkable building. “We live in a landscape that is barren of Indigenous indicators,” says Albert, “but here the canvas becomes a renewed cultural icon with a visibility and platform that educates.” The structure shifts from an industrial shell to a cultural backdrop where history and art play in the night sky. The projection becomes a place to honour families, places and cultures. Albert added that Indigenous imagery enters the vernacular with a renewed sense of space and place, shifting from “ownership” to “belonging,” reinforcing that, “Badu Gili is integral to First Nations art and culture. It is pivotal that projects like this continue.”
At the end of the interview, I asked one more question. Can you recondition / rehabilitate / remodel / refurbish / rebuild / repair history? He answered: History is written by its victors, and that does not favour Indigenous people. In Badu Gili, there is a search or a willingness to expose historical truth. If we are to grow, heal, repair, and move on from centuries of oppression, it has to be through us all understanding what went on. This country wasn't discovered under a peaceful premise. We still live in a country that bombs sacred sites for mining. There were massacres here, and we still teach our children a version of history that shies away from historical truth. If we are to repair or refurbish history, it will take a great amount of work and sadness to unveil and understand what has happened, but I have witnessed it change for the better over the last 20 years.
“The shift can be felt. But sometimes, people are not willing to learn or talk about it beyond a few classes in school. And we think that we have heard it all before,” I replied.
“Of course, it's not a black issue. It's a white issue.”
Now more than ever, Australians can engage with new cultural evocations reshaping our sense of identity. As a free daily experience, visitors can see the projection shining across the eastern Bennelong sails after the sun has set every evening for a year, six times a night. It is an indelible stamp of First Nations roots and a catalyst for change.
