An Orbit of Ten Thousand Suns

The irony was not lost on me when I travelled to Gadigal/Sydney in June to attend the 24^th Biennale of Sydney’s Ten Thousand Suns — and it rained for almost the entirety of the trip. It set the pace for the tension I felt in between the experience of visiting the exhibition and my reflection long after the visit.

Artistic Directors Cosmin Costinaș and Inti Guerrero selected works that offered “solar and radiant forms of resistance that affirm collective possibilities around a future that is not only possible, but necessary to be lived in joy…”. Ten Thousand Suns centred Indigenous voices, presenting Indigenous joy side-by-side with grief, and remembrance of forgotten traditions and legends. Its intention is to acknowledge the ongoing effects of colonial and capitalist structures, without conceding to despair.

As you entered each Biennale site, Doreen Chapman’s brightly coloured paintings of ATMs adorned the walls, greeting visitors. A Manyjilyjarra woman born in Jigalong, WA, Doreen Chapman is a deaf and non-verbal artist and the daughter of senior Martumili artist May Wokka Chapman. Since she was little, she has used painting as a means of communication, informing a crucial part of her identity. Chapman often depicts her life across the Pilbara in dreamy pastel landscapes, abstract patterns or vivid native flora and fauna, but for the Biennale, with a bit of wit, she has solely painted ATMs. Chapman’s painted version of the ever present machines gave viewers a chance to interrogate our own biases of consumption: what is the real cost of one’s culture?

Whilst modern ideas of the ‘lucky country’ reference the multiculturalism of this nation’s migrant population, we must not forget that Indigenous Australia itself has always been a multicultural society, with ethnic diversities across the continent. The need for this country to confront its issues of nationhood and cultural difference has never been greater, challenging us to develop new ways of thinking about social and cultural relations, hybridised identities and the role of arts in an ever evolving society. How can marginalised communities be sincerely represented in grand scale exhibitions like the Biennale?

At UNSW Galleries, Indigenous resistance was a prominent theme throughout. One room was transformed into a vivid canvas, its walls drenched in red and adorned with striking, stylised depictions of death and defiance, dedicated to ongoing resistance of Papuans against the militarised Indonesian rule in Western New Guinea. The Udeido Collective captured the socio-cultural essence of West Papua through their immersive installation, The Koreri Transformation (2024). This work commemorates the Koreri legend, a mythical vision of a utopian village believed to grant eternal life. The Koreri concept has been linked to the peaceful movement for Papuan independence since the late 1930s to early 1940s. Amidst neo-colonial expansion and environmental degradation, this movement aimed to protect cultural traditions and pursue self-determination for a unified Papua.

As I worked my way around the gallery, I noticed a number of unnamed makers and artists from South America exhibited alongside well known Biennale artists. In the dark, lit by a single spotlight, ornately patterned bark paper drew my attention. Commonly known as papel amate, the people of Mesoamerican Indigenous groups including Aztec, Toltec and Miztec, have used this bark paper for various purposes across centuries.

High in the mountains in the northern part of the state of Puebla, lies the Otomí village of San Pablito, which has been the centre of bark paper making. These paper bark patterns are traditionally cut by Otomí shamans into spirit beings, predominantly used in rituals to ensure plentiful harvests, purification of self and even evil spirits banishment. During the height of Spanish colonisation, the practice of bark paper making was completely banned and it slowly disappeared across much of Mexico. However, the Otomí, an indigenous group in central Mexico, continued the preservation of the tradition.

Community arts are often excluded and cast aside within institutions. By including them in Ten Thousand Suns, the Artistic Directors strived to champion these traditions, elevating them to new heights.

Hanging from the ceilings of White Bay Power Station, three large scale works from Barrileteros Almas del Viento — a kite making and flying community group — showcased the town of Sumpango’s Festival de Barriletes Gigantes (Giant Kite Festival). Part of All Saints’ Day celebrations, the festival features kites depicting scenes from ancient folklore to critical contemporary issues, such as the ongoing fight of Indigenous groups against occupation of ancestral lands and ruthless policy of genetically modified agriculture by foreign corporations. This is amplified in the work Resurreccion del Maiz (Resurrection of the corn) (2017), where the kite is adorned with golden corn ears, a traditional staple diet for Indigenous people of the Americas, now also used as symbols of Indigenous advocacy against the US-owned agricultural company Monsanto Corporation.

Costinaș and Guerrero’s curation was a subtle, but serious attempt at introducing art from often-overlooked regions and presenting alternative histories for reflection. They have included a wide range of artistic mediums and practices, from traditional Indigenous techniques to contemporary and experimental forms. A significant portion of the Biennale’s dynamic presentations stemmed from its ability to highlight the diverse and expansive nature of artistic practices rooted in various languages, cultures, rituals, cosmologies, and histories. This diversity allows for a richer representation of Indigenous artistic expressions and their relevance to current global conversations. For what it’s worth, Ten Thousand Suns presented viewers with an imagined community. And for me, alludes to the question — what can we do to create it?

I witnessed the 96 artists responding to the Biennale’s theme in ten thousand different ways, demonstrating that even amidst the immense violence of imperialism and ongoing persistent environmental devastation caused by capitalistic forces, unbridled joy and creative acts have persisted, and they will continue to do so.

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