Indigenous voices soar underneath the high ceilings of the three-storey gallery. Multiple co-curated projects utilise processes of collective creation and knowledge sharing that are integral to many First Nations cultures. In GOMA’s atrium, visitors meander their way around Brett Graham’s colossal sculptures. The solemn works follow the footsteps of the British troops from the Mangatāwhiri to the Waingongoro River in Aotearoa New Zealand. Graham’s meticulously researched Tai Moana Tai Tangata speaks to the expropriation of Māori land and resources by white settlers.

The heavy and obstinate physicality of Graham’s carved sculptures were offset by the many voices that resonated throughout the opening weekend schedule of workshops, talks and performances. The weekend begun with a striking performance by Solomon Island’s KAWAKI in an installation collaboratively devised with Dreamcast Theatre. The gallery bloomed with the vibrancy of the women’s acapella harmonies, as the floor vibrated with the rhythmic stomping of their feet. The performance, Kuza Ni Tege, celebrates the female role as guardians of marine systems and the tege, the journey of the critically endangered hawksbill sea turtle. The attentive audience sat cross-legged in front of the tropical diorama as they connected with an ocean expanse through the flow of their music. KAWAKI’s sequence of song and dance forefronted the need to care for and coexist with our natural environment, instilling feelings of hope and resilience that permeated throughout the APT amidst more sombre reflections on global Indigenous struggles and colonial atrocities.

A perpetual ignorance, unyielding and vast…¹
—Luvsanchültimjigmed, c. nineteenth century

One of the most solemn of these reflections is TAMBA, co-curated by Sheelasha Rajbhandari and Hit Man Gurung. Comprised of work by seven Adivasi-Janajati (Indigenous Nepalese) artists—Lavkant Chaudhary, Alyen Leeachum Foning, Mekh Limbu, Keepa Maskey, Jagdish Moktan, Subas Tamang and Indu Tharu—TAMBA surrounds audiences with painful reminders of Nepal’s systemic oppression of Indigenous and Dalit communities, and testifies against violence perpetrated during the People’s War (1996-2006) which took over 17,000 lives. Conceptually the curators evoke the figure of the Tamba—experts in rituals and oral telling of the Tamang people—to witness the persistent dismissal of Indigenous voices in Nepal that has resulted in intergenerational fractures. Through solidarity and empowerment, TAMBA signals a commitment to emerge out of the limbo state of battling with this lasting residue. Mekh Limbu’s enormous handloom scarf SAAM LINGMAA (2024) signals this shift as it weaves the space together, invoking the healing of Adivasi spirits through its poetic allusion to the continuity of tradition and wisdom.

In the gallery adjoining TAMBA is Tripura Bangladeshi artist Joydeb Roaja’s intricate ink drawings of trees emerging out of Jumma (Indigenous peoples) as they safeguard their land from the swarms of drones and settlers that gather around the figures. The drawings were brought to life during the artist’s opening performance of the traditional Mro plung, a wind instrument that symbolises unity and resistance. It is perhaps no coincidence that TAMBA and Roaja’s neighbouring galleries mirror Nepal and Bangladesh’s geographic proximity. This acute curatorial moment forms a collective voice that is cultivated between the Indigenous communities from South Asia, who are shaped by shared landscapes, histories, and cultural continuities. The Jumma in Roaja’s drawings declare their role as protectors of sovereign land, as the artists in TAMBA also assert their sovereignty. And as Roaja’s music mournfully wafted through the gallery, a sense of peace and a unified custodianship settled around the Jumma depicted by Roaja who continue to endure and protect.  

An inexhaustible soul, enduring and enduring…¹
—Luvsanchültimjigmed, c. nineteenth century

Enduring hope and optimism is also encapsulated in Haus Yuriyal’s garden in the atrium of the Queensland Art Gallery. Planted by Yuriyal Eric Bridgeman’s mother Veronica Gikope, the garden of sugarcane, banana, and taro is a sanctuary for growth and renewal, for connection and community. Adjacent to the garden, Haus Yuriyal adorned Queensland Art Gallery’s otherwise antiseptic foyer with an abundance of bold, coloured, geometric Yuri shield patterns, The Hausman (men’s house), which is a meeting place for discussion and ceremonies, was also joyously reimagined in the museum. Haus Yuriyal’s garden speaks literally of regeneration and revival, a thematic that we see reprise in a plethora of gardens throughout the exhibition, in both literal and fantastical manifestations.

The most fantastical of these works, Zhang Xu Zhan constructs a space that is beyond a garden—the mythological estate reinvents an Asian fable using newspaper puppets and stop-motion animation. Zhang’s cinema is an installation in itself—the walls covered in folded newspaper—reeking of a musty, almond-like scent that, for many of us, evoke a heartwarming memory: sitting on plastic stools and having family dinners around a newspaper-lined dining table—a frugal habit in many Asian cultures. Playfulness is also embraced in the tongue-in-cheek works of Mai Nguyễn Long and Masaya Chiba.

What if exploring the world with a childlike wonder was the key to unlocking renewed perspectives? Yim Maline’s amorphous soft sculptures, which are inspired by toys and play, are stitched together using recycled materials. Her practice studies ecological processes like flowering and decomposition, cultivating a deeper consciousness around global environment. Similarly, Rithika Merchant introduces us to an imagining of environmental futurism though her ethereal gardens which draw on scientific and mythological ideas as she speculates the rebirth of a post-human utopia. Through creative explorations of tactile and visual sensibilities, these works challenge us to continually think critically about our responsibility to care for our planet.

APT11 inspects the most important contemporary issues of our time through a multitude of cultural perspectives and forms of knowledge. The attention and space given to artworks that inspire forms of cultural and environmental activism is particularly healing. In the catalogue APT11 references Luvsanchültimjigmed’s nineteenth century poem Hymn to the Universe, which was also rendered in morse code in Nomin Bold and Ochirbold Ayurzana’s Life Cup (2023). Like the poem, APT11 looks to envelope us in a hymn to the world and the boundless cosmos around us. The result is a collective chorus that calls for reconciliation between cultures, to share joint struggles, and be attentive to the planet’s rhythms.