The life-changing power of Indigenous art – and how to buy it ethically

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Franchesca Cubillo is a Larrakia, Bardi, Wardaman and Yanuwa woman from the Top End of the Northern Territory. With more than 30 years’ experience in the museum and art gallery sector, including at the National Gallery of Australia, she is currently the chair of the Darwin Aboriginal Art Fair Foundation, and executive director, First Nations Arts and Culture at the Australia Council for the Arts.

Here and now I have seen a growing interest in Indigenous art throughout my professional career, a change from looking at Aboriginal art as ethnographic and anthropological to seeing it as fine art. And that really is life-changing. Across a very short period, the market has just increased exponentially in terms of its appreciation, in terms of the economic investment. But also what you have is this increase in the amount of remarkable art being produced.

 

Nowadays Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander artists are part of our national identity, where millions of people actually come to Australia and have exposure to Indigenous culture via art. It is now at this remarkable place where I think Deloitte estimates that between $150 to $200 million is generated through Indigenous art. The Productivity Commission is doing its own research, and they say between $300 to $500 million is being generated.

Franchesca Cubillo
Franchesca Cubillo is a Larrakia, Bardi, Wardaman and Yanuwa woman with more than 30 years in the museum and art gallery sector.

Centres of excellence

The fairs, like the Darwin Aboriginal Art Fair, are another layer in which the Art Centres, the artists, the First Nations staff can start to engage with the sector and represent themselves. Obviously there are commercial galleries that are non-Indigenous, there are collectors, there are auction houses, but Art Centres are really these amazing organisations that are small micro business, and they have been in place for at least 30 years. But we equally don’t have very many Art Centre managers. Lots of artists, which is great. We have this remarkable wealth of imagery coming from these Art Centres, but we don’t have as many First Nations people involved in that secondary industry; small business operators or curators or conservators.

 

What we found at the Darwin Aboriginal Art Fair is that there would be a good majority of people who have never purchased Aboriginal art before and/or had any exposure to Indigenous peoples and their culture. There is that element of people just not having the opportunity. I think a lot of art is on display in our state galleries and our museums, but they are not understanding or knowing where to go next, or how to engage. An art fair brings it to their attention, and because ours is very much Art Centre-based, it means they’re buying directly from artists and the money is going directly to them. I think non-Indigenous people are just not aware of how to engage or where to engage.

Joshua Morris and Shadeene Evans wear the Boonkaj collection by Waringarri Aboriginal Arts, Country to Couture
Joshua Morris and Shadeene Evans wear the Boonkaj collection by Waringarri Aboriginal Arts, Country to Couture, DAAF 2021. (Image: James Giles)

A truly Australian art

At its core is this remarkable art that really defines who we are as Australians. But it’s even more than that because it’s so connected to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander culture and language and Country. If you were to look at [Arthur] Streeton or Jeffrey Smart – Australian art – and say ‘that is so much about us as a nation’, I think there is a small element of that, but in a global conversation [that kind of Australian art] doesn’t stand out. Whereas Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander art does stand out because it doesn’t operate within a Western art aesthetic. The value systems are totally different.

 

If you’re an Aboriginal person from the Yirritja moiety in north-east Arnhem Land, you can only depict certain Dreaming narratives, and you can only use a particular clan design and cross hatching to depict that ancestral story. There are guidelines, there are cultural considerations and protocols that determine what an artist will paint and how they will paint. It’s so unique stylistically. It comes from a different cultural trajectory, and the aesthetic itself is so different in a global context.

 

I’ve been thinking an awful lot in terms of [seminal Utopia artist] Emily Kame Kngwarreye. Her practice was very much, ‘this is my Country, these are my ancestors, this is me fulfilling my obligation and I will always paint this same story because that’s my value system’. Having travelled a little bit overseas with Indigenous art, I’ve noticed that there has been this growing appreciation.

A painting by Emily Kame Kngwarreye captured by photojournalist Penny Tweedie
A painting by Emily Kame Kngwarreye captured by photojournalist Penny Tweedie.

When the Dreamings exhibition went to New York [in 1988], it was seen as something very new and very dynamic. And you had some major American collectors who just got really switched on and said, ‘This is the next best thing. We can’t believe something as remarkable as this and as new and fresh exists.’ There’s still a bizarre, delayed appreciation value system, which is really interesting because Steve Martin is buying, Beyoncé is buying.

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Listen and learn

I am still talking to Aboriginal young people who say, why isn’t our culture taught at school? If history is not being taught, if the art’s not being taught, the only exposure people are getting is the extreme, the bad news story. Closing the gap, the intervention, deaths in custody. They’re getting all this negative news so there’s a real fear. If you had grown up in south-east Australia living in the western suburbs, your notion of Aboriginal art is very different from an Aboriginal person growing up in Darwin totally surrounded by culture. I think the normal, average person on the street is fed a certain perspective on Indigenous people and their art and culture.

 

Therefore, there is a lot of confusion and uncertainty about how to engage. And of course, [it] all comes to a head when it’s Australia Day or it’s Invasion Day or it’s NAIDOC Week. So I think there’s still quite a bit of push and pull happening in Australia, but at the same time you’ve got this international push back. And a museum in Brussels has just opened with a major Indigenous art exhibition [Before Time Began at the Art & History Museum].

 

So Indigenous art is being seen across social media in Australia being celebrated in Europe. It must be quite difficult for a non-Indigenous person looking at it and trying to figure out what’s going on. It is a part of who we are but there’s such complexity to it.

A modern vision

Cultural exchange always happens, so this notion that something is authentic and somehow becomes detracted once it starts to take on a hybrid form is a false understanding of what culture really is.

 

I think in terms of art and language, what I’ve always tried to encourage First Nations artists and different regions [to do] is for everyone to be very mindful that their designs and patterns are really unique from where they come from, so that you should look to your own ancestry in terms of the patterns and the designs if you want to maintain your connection to that region through your art practice.

 

But equally as an artist if you want to paint in your own style, then you also should be able to have that flexibility to find your voice, find your style. And it could be like Trevor Nickolls [described as the father of urban Aboriginal art], you go to art school in Adelaide, and paint the way you want to paint. Really, as an Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander person, you should be able to represent your own story, whatever it is.

Ancient rock art at Mt Borradaile
Ancient rock art at Mt Borradaile.

A gift given generously

I think we are very lucky that art is a really accessible mechanism to engage. And to a certain extent, I think this is why political art by Indigenous artists isn’t taken up in the same way that more abstract forms like Western Desert or bark paintings are. There are more people buying those classical designs than there are buying contemporary works that are really political and blatantly advocating for social justice or land rights. But the strange thing is that those Western Desert paintings are actually title deeds to Country, so they are quite political but not in a form that is challenging. It’s quite subtle but culturally explicit.

Art has been the vehicle that has really allowed Australia to take on Indigenous art and culture as part of its identity. It is the art that has really been the vehicle that has allowed an appreciation for First Nations people and their culture.

I think for the wonderful things that art has done, there’s still a huge degree of fear, anxiety, hesitation and real resistance to letting go of control and power when it comes to First Nations people having a voice within Australia. I think the push and pull is still always going to be there.

 

[Culture and art] is a gift that Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people bring to Australian society and to the identity in a global context.

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How to buy Indigenous art ethically and responsibly

Researching and buying Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander art is a joy, whether you are a serious collector or a complete novice. The colours, patterns and cultural significance contained in everything from bark panels to large-format canvases to weavings and carvings are reflective of ancient traditions passed down through millennia, as well as the particular stories and experiences of the artists who render them.

 

Buying Indigenous art in an ethical and responsible way not only pays respect to the significance of this ancient form – said to be ‘Australia’s greatest cultural gift to the world’ – and the talent and truths of the artists themselves, but it also assists with positive and lasting economic and social outcomes.

 

For this reason the Indigenous Art Code was developed to preserve and promote ethical trading in Indigenous art. The code outlines established standards for dealings between dealers and Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander artists to ensure fair and ethical trade in art, transparency in the promotion and sale of artworks, and that disputes are dealt with fairly.

 

Whether you are buying from a gallery, at auction or from a dealer, the Code advises you ask lots of questions, including: who the artist is; where the artist is from; how the seller acquired the artwork or product; how the artist was paid for their work; how are royalties or licensing fees paid to the artist in the case of reproductions; and, importantly, is the gallery a member of the Indigenous Art Code? If the answer to this last question is yes, then you know that it has agreed to follow the Indigenous Australian Art Commercial Code of Conduct.

Cassandra Trevilyan-Hayes of Mimi Aboriginal Art & Craft at the 2019 Darwin Aboriginal Art Fair
Cassandra Trevilyan-Hayes of Mimi Aboriginal Art & Craft at the 2019 Darwin Aboriginal Art Fair. (Image Dylan Buckee)

Of course, buying direct from artists, by visiting Indigenous owned and operated Art Centres or attending ethical events like Darwin Aboriginal Art Fair (DAAF), is possibly the best way to learn about and acquire Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander art, allowing you to form a relationship with the artists themselves and better understand not only the art form but the stories and experience imbued in the pieces being generously offered for sale.

 

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Inside Geelong’s glow-up from factory town to creative capital

    Chloe Cann Chloe Cann
    Abandoned mills and forgotten paper plants are finding second lives – and helping redefine a city long underestimated. 

    Just 15 years ago, Federal Mills was a very different place. Once among the most significant industrial sites in Victoria, the historic woollen mill was one of a dozen that operated in Geelong at the industry’s peak in the mid-20th century, helping the city earn its title as ‘wool centre of the world’. But by the 1960s global competition and the rise of synthetic fabrics led to the slow decline of the industry, and Federal Mills finally shuttered its doors in 2001. Within a few years, the abandoned North Geelong grounds had become makeshift pastoral land, with cows and goats grazing among the overgrown grass between the empty red-brick warehouses. It was a forgotten pocket of the city, all but two klicks from the bustle of the CBD.  

    Geelong cellar door wine bar
    Geelong has shed its industrial identity to become an innovative urban hub with reimagined heritage spaces. (Image: Ash Hughes)

    Federal Mills: from forgotten factory to creative precinct 

    Today, the century-old complex stands reborn. The distinctive sawtooth-roof buildings have been sensitively restored. An old silo is splashed with a bright floral mural, landscapers have transformed the grounds, and the precinct is once again alive with activity. More than 1000 people work across 50-plus businesses here. It’s so busy, in fact, that on a sunny Thursday morning in the thick of winter, it’s hard to find a car park. The high ceilings, open-plan design, and large multi-paned windows – revolutionary features for factories of their time – have again become a drawcard.  

    Paddock Bakery andPatisserie
    Paddock Bakery and Patisserie is housed within the historic wool factory. (Image: Gallant Lee)

    At Paddock, one of the precinct’s newer tenants, weaving looms and dye vats have been replaced by a wood-fired brick oven and heavy-duty mixers. Open since April 2024, the bakery looks right at home here; the building’s industrial shell is softened by ivy climbing its steel frames, and sunlight streams through the tall windows. Outside, among the white cedar trees, families at picnic benches linger over dippy eggs and bagels, while white-collar workers pass in and out, single-origin coffee and crème brûlée doughnuts in hand. 

    Geelong: Australia’s only UNESCO City of Design 

    Paddock Bakery
    Paddock Bakery can be found at Federal Mills. (Image: Gallant Lee)

    “A lot of people are now seeing the merit of investing in Geelong,” says Paul Traynor, the head of Hamilton Hospitality Group, which redeveloped Federal Mills. A city once shunned as Sleepy Hollow, and spurned for its industrial, working-class roots and ‘rust belt’ image, Geelong has long since reclaimed its ‘Pivot City’ title, having reinvented itself as an affordable, lifestyle-driven satellite city, and a post-COVID migration hotspot.  

    And the numbers stand testament to the change. In March 2025, and for the first time in its history, Greater Geelong became Australia’s most popular regional town for internal migration, overtaking Queensland’s Sunshine Coast. Current forecasts suggest Geelong will continue to outpace many other Australian cities and towns, with jobs growing at double the rate of the population.

    Tourism is booming, too. The 2023-24 financial year was Geelong and The Bellarine region’s busiest on record, with 6.4 million visitors making it one of the fastest-growing destinations in the country. It’s not hard to see why: beyond the city’s prime positioning at the doorstep of the Great Ocean Road, Geelong’s tenacity and cultural ambition stands out.  

    As Australia’s only UNESCO City of Design, Geelong is swiftly shaking off its industrial past to become a model for urban renewal, innovation, sustainability and creative communities. The signs are everywhere, from the revitalisation of the city’s waterfront, and the landmark design of the Geelong Library and Heritage Centre and Geelong Arts Centre, to the growing network of local designers, architects and artists, and the burgeoning roster of festivals and events. That’s not even mentioning the adaptive reuse of storied old industrial buildings – from Federal Mills, to Little Creatures’ brewery ‘village’ housed within a 1920s textile mill – or the city’s flourishing food and wine scene.  

    The rise of a food and wine destination  

    boiler house
    Restaurant 1915 is housed within a restored former boiler house. (Image: Harry Pope/Two Palms)

    Traynor credits now-closed local restaurant Igni, which opened in 2016, as the turning point for Geelong’s hospo industry. “[Aaron Turner, Igni’s chef-patron] was probably the first guy, with all due respect, to raise the bar food-wise for Geelong,” he says. “People now treat it really seriously, and there’s clearly a market for it.” While Igni is gone, Turner now helms a string of other notable Geelong venues, including The Hot Chicken Project and Tacos y Liquor, all within the buzzy, street art-speckled laneways of the CBD’s Little Malop Street Precinct. Many others have also popped up in Igni’s wake, including Federal Mills’ own restaurant, 1915Housed within the cavernous boiler house, 1915’s interior is dramatic: soaring, vaulted ceilings with timber beams, exposed brick, a huge arched window. The share plates echo the space’s bold character, playing with contrast and texture, with dishes such as a compressed watermelon tataki, the sweet, juicy squares tempered by salty strands of fried leeks, and charred, smoky snow peas dusted with saganaki on a nutty bed of romesco. 

    Woolstore
    The Woolstore is a new restaurant and bar housed within a century-old warehouse. (Image: Amy Carlon)

     The Woolstore, one of The Hamilton Group’s most recent hospo projects, opened in February. It occupies a century-old riverside warehouse and exudes a more sultry, fine dining ambience. Much like Federal Mills, the blueprint was to preserve the original brickwork, tallowwood flooring and nods to the building’s former life. That same careful consideration extends to the well-versed, affable waitstaff as well as the kitchen. Head chef Eli Grubb is turning out an eclectic mix of ambitious and indulgent mod Oz dishes that deliver: strikingly tender skewers of chicken tsukune, infused with hints of smoke from the parrilla grill, and glazed with a moreish, sweet gochujang ‘jam’; nduja arancini fragrant with hints of aniseed and the earthy lick of sunny saffron aioli; and golden squares of potato pavé, adorned with tiny turrets of crème fraîche, crisp-fried saltbush leaves, and Avruga caviar, to name but a few stand-out dishes.  

    Woolstore menu
    Woolstore’s menu is designed for sharing.

    Breathing new life into historic spaces  

    On the city’s fringe, hidden down a winding side road with little fanfare, lies a long-dormant site that’s being gently revived. Built from locally quarried bluestone and brick, and dating back to the 1870s, the complex of original tin-roofed mill buildings is lush with greenery and backs onto the Barwon River and Buckley Falls; the audible rush of water provides a soothing soundtrack. Fyansford Paper Mill is one of few complexes of its time to survive intact. It feels steeped in history and spellbindingly rustic.  

    “We were looking for an old industrial place that had some charm and romance to it,” explains Sam Vogel, the owner, director and winemaker at Provenance Wines which moved here in 2018. When he first viewed the building with his former co-owner, it was in such a state of disrepair that the tradie tenant occupying the space had built a shed within it to escape the leaking roof and freezing winter temperatures. “To say it was run down would be an understatement,” he notes. “There was ivy growing through the place; the windows were all smashed. It was a classic Grand Designs project.” 

    Provenance Wines
    Provenance Wines moved to Fyansford Paper Mill in 2018. (Image: Cameron Murray Photography)

    The team has since invested more than a million dollars into their new home. Where paper processing machinery once sat, wine barrels are now stacked. Vaulted cathedral ceilings are strung with festoon lights, and hidden in plain sight lies a shadowy mural by local street artist de rigueur Rone – one of only three permanent works by the artist.

    While the award-winning, cool-climate pinot noir, riesling and chardonnay naturally remain a key draw at Provenance, the winery’s restaurant is a destination in itself. Impressed already by whipsmart service, I devour one of the most cleverly curated and faultlessly executed degustations I’ve had in some time. It’s all prepared in a kitchen that is proudly zero-waste, and committed to providing seasonal, ethical and locally sourced meat and produce under head chef Nate McIver. Think free-range venison served rare with a syrupy red wine jus and a half-moon of neon-orange kosho, shokupan with a deeply savoury duck fat jus (a modern Japanese take on bread and drippings), and a golden potato cake adorned with a colourful confetti of dehydrated nasturtiums and tomato powder, and planted atop a sea urchin emulsion.  

    handcrafted pieces
    Bell’s handcrafted functional pieces on display.

    The complex is home to a coterie of independent businesses, including a gallery, a jeweller, and its latest tenant, ceramicist Elizabeth Bell, drawn here by the building’s “soul”. “There’s so much potential for these buildings to have new life breathed into them,” says Bell, whose studio is housed within the old pump room. “Even people in Geelong don’t know we’re here,” she says. “It’s definitely a destination, but I like that. It has a really calming atmosphere.”  

    A Melbourne transplant, Bell now feels at home in Geelong, which offers something Melbourne didn’t. “If this business was in Melbourne I don’t think it would’ve been as successful,” she notes. “It’s very collaborative in Geelong, and I don’t think you get that as much in Melbourne; you’re a bit more in it for yourself. Here it’s about community over competition.”  

    Elizabeth Bell
    Ceramicist Elizabeth Bell has a store in Fyansford Paper Mill.