Open Access
Published: March 2025
Licence: CC BY-NC-4.0
Issue: Vol.20, No.1
Word count: number
About the authors
Exhibition review
Truth-telling and truth-listening: A response to the work of Tennant Creek Brio
Held at Australian Centre for Contemporary Art, 21 September–17 November 2024
Reviewed by Jo Campbell, with Tessa Priest
Acknowledgement of Country
We respectfully acknowledge the Warumungu people, traditional owners of the Country upon which the Brio art collective studio is located, and the Wurundjeri people, upon whose unceded lands this exhibition took place. We pay our deep respects to the elders past, present and emerging. We honour First Nations Peoples, who have cared for, nurtured, and preserved the sacred wisdom and knowledge of the land for innumerable generations. We strive to awaken to the expression of this wisdom through ceremony, art and story, in contexts where such knowledge is permitted to be shared.
Late last year I travelled from Ōtautahi Christchurch to Naarm Melbourne for the ANZACATA Conference and took the opportunity to visit a dear friend, Tessa. Each of us has recently graduated with Master’s degrees; in my case in creative arts therapy, and for Tessa, in narrative therapy and Hakomi therapy. We celebrated our respective journeys with good strong Melbourne coffees, and then went to see an exhibition at ACCA, the Australian Centre for Contemporary Art, Tennant Creek Brio: Juparnta Ngattu Minjinypa Iconocrisis.
The exhibition was a major survey of work created over a ten-year period by Tennant Creek Brio, an Aboriginal men’s art collective. As its title implies, the exhibition embodied “the Brio methodology of collaborative creolisation and bricolage” (Delany, et al., 2024). It was also, by the Brio’s own description, a truth-telling exhibition. Our intention in writing this review is to embody the role of truth-listener: to listen deeply, understand the history, and reflect on our emergent practices.
Tessa: As I walked through the gallery, tears sprang to my eyes. Each set of paintings, sculptures or installations added something to the big feelings etching through my body. The exhibition got me questioning belonging and sensation. My whole being registered this work through a sort of shivering; a conflation of sadness and gladness.
Jo: I experienced the exhibition as a welcome thump to the chest, taking my breath away and asking me to bear witness. A vibrancy and energy exuded from the imagery and materials, and I felt in the presence of something big, important and alive. When I read that Tennant Creek Brio began as an Aboriginal men’s arts therapy program, I wanted to know more.[1]
Cite this reviewCampbell, J. & Priest, T. (2025). Exhibition review – Truth-telling and truth-listening: A response to the work of Tennant Creek Brio. JoCAT, 20(1). https://www.jocat-online.org/r-25-campbell
Figure 1. Joseph Williams Jungarayi, Wise Man, from The Watchers series, 2024, acrylic and charcoal Masonite, 1090 × 1090mm [2]
In 2016, Anyinginyi Health Aboriginal Corporation employed artist Rupert Betheras to run a men’s arts therapy program [1] in Tennant Creek, a town of around 3,000 people on Warumungu Country in outback Australia. As part of colonisation and the expanding settler frontier, the town was established as an outpost along the Overland Telegraph Line in the 1870s, leading to the loss of Indigenous country through the development of streets, buildings and huge open-range cattle ranches. In the 1930s, colonial expansion and exploitation of Country was further exacerbated by the discovery and mining of gold, copper and silver.
Intergenerational trauma runs deep in this community, with at least one of The Brio artists being the grandchild of people killed in the 1928 Coniston Massacre.[3] The Coniston cattle ranch was the site of the last recorded state-sanctioned massacre of Indigenous people in Australia, although frontier murders and attempted massacres of Indigenous people occurred as late as 1981 (The Guardian, 2022), and colonial violence continues in other ways.
Colonisation had devastating effects, including the loss of sacred lands and the severing of connections to families, ancestors, culture, and language. Aboriginal people were forcibly relocated to missions and reserves across Australia. Families were torn apart when children were forcibly removed from their homelands, sent to institutions and expected to ‘assimilate’, resulting in the Stolen Generation. Removal of Aboriginal children and disproportionately high incarceration rates have persisted into the present. The destructive legacy and ongoing practices of colonisation continue to impact Indigenous communities, contributing to social issues such as poverty, mental health challenges, alcoholism, substance abuse, and gambling. These struggles, which resonate across many Aboriginal communities, are deeply intertwined with the lived experiences of the Tennant Creek Brio artists. The art therapy program has sought to address these social impacts and promote healing.
The program was successful in many different ways. It initially offered a safe space where the Tennant Creek Brio artists could share their personal stories with each other, highlighting the historical, social, and political challenges they have faced throughout their lives. It also shed light on the lasting impacts of colonisation. Creating and sharing such powerful narratives through artwork requires great courage and determination, yet it became something to look forward to, together. As artist/participant Joseph Williams Jungarayi said,
A lot of men had troubles, going to jail for whatever reason, had trouble with drinking too much, stuff like that. I think this art therapy helped our men build up confidence, to not be ashamed anymore, and keep out of trouble coz we had something to do and something to look forward to every time we went to our art therapy. (ABC Indigenous, 2024) [4]
Figure 2. Rupert Betheras, Levi McLean, Clifford Thompson Japaljarri, Red Anima, 2024, enamel on oil barrel with steel and Styrofoam base, 880 × 1190 × 700mm.
Williams sums up the programme, in Art Guide Australia (2021) as “a therapy meeting through art”. The article goes on to say, “…it’s not only a place for making; it’s about being together, where men can voice their issues, heal and support each other”.
Using art to share stories created new connections and meaning for the men. It enhanced cultural esteem and strengthened cultural ties, giving the artists a voice and a sense of empowerment. This in turn led to a reduction in their reliance on alcohol and other substances. Meanwhile, the creative talent of the group did not go unnoticed, and the program morphed gradually from art therapy into the art activism of what is now Tennant Creek Brio. Brio is an Italian word meaning vigour, determination and dynamism, perfectly capturing the spirit and intention of this collective of artists who range across five different language groups.
The Brio Collective grew and has continued to bring about cultural reinvigoration as well as stunning and challenging exhibitions ever since. Exhibitions have included Gangsters of Art and We are Living History at the NIRIN 22nd Biennale of Sydney (2020), Shock and Ore at Charles Darwin University Gallery and Coconut Studios, Darwin (2022), as well as the Juparnta Ngattu Minjinypa Iconocrisis exhibition at ACCA in Melbourne (September to November 2024) reviewed here and providing a survey of previous and new work.
The exhibition statement explained that the Warumungu term Juparnta Ngattu means ceremonial strength and powerful image-making. Minjinypa is a Walpiri word meaning ‘cheeky one’ or ‘trouble(maker)’ and was carefully placed by The Brio’s brotherhood of tricksters, to poke holes in the official ‘justification’ given for the Coniston massacre. Finally, ‘Iconocrisis’ is an English neologism which speaks to The Brio’s challenge to the unsustainable status quo. As Jimmy Frank Jupurrula explained,
It’s one way us men in Tennant Creek are telling the history and the bad things that have happened – whether it’s mining, whether it’s massacres, whether it’s alcoholism. This is a different way of healing… It’s a voice through art … it’s the truth-telling that’s important. (Art Guide, 2020)
A virtual walk-through of the exhibition
As we entered the exhibition, we were met by a large creature made from reclaimed industrial detritus – equal parts petrochemical effigy, sacred guardian and modern-day warrior. This bricolage of materials, cultures and imagery continued throughout the four spaces of the exhibition creating an experience that, despite the clashing of old and new, industrial and organic, sacred and profane, was strangely harmonic.
Figure 3. Joseph Williams Jungarayi, Rupert Betheras, Lévi McLean, Clifford Thompson Japaljarri, UAP: Unidentified (Ab)original Phenomenon, 2024, steel, oil barrels, mining ball bearings, found petrochemical signage, car bonnets, deer antlers, found objects and junk assemblage, video and sound, 4500 × 3200 × 1100mm (approx.)
In the first space, there was a warning for white fellas to clean up after the mess they have left on country. In the words of Jimmy Frank Jupurrula,
In our culture, if you go somewhere and you make a mess you have to clean up after yourself. So, we collected and recycled mess from country – from mining etc. Telling people – don’t go leaving your rubbish on our country – being a bit cheeky, yeah. (ABC Indigenous, 2024)
Figure 4. Collection of found objects and artworks by Fabian Brown Japaljarri, Joseph Williams Jungarayi, Clifford Thompson Japaljarri and Jimmy Frank Jupurrula, 2022–24.
Figure 5. The main hall with several works including The (Solar) Reactor series on solar panels by Lindsay Nelson Jakamarra and Rupert Betheras, and The Watchers series by Joseph Williams Jungarayi, 2024.
In the second room, sacred markings and political commentary were layered over mining maps from abandoned gold fields. This layering of imagery acknowledged that while extractive industries issued maps, grids and lines to divide up the land, songlines and dreamings already existed and continue to exist beyond linear Western concepts of time and place. These ancestral mappings need to be honoured, if we are to protect country and culture.
Figure 6. Tennant Creek Brio (Rupert Betheras and Joseph Williams Jungarrayi), Gateway (wound) series, 2024, installation of various works in pencil, graphite, ink, acrylic and oil on found mining maps, 5350 × 6200mm (installation).
Surrounding installation: Tennant Creek Brio, Various works, 2017–2024, pencil, oil, acrylic, ink, graphite, collage and acetate on found mining maps, 5350 × 11900mm (installation).
Figure 7. Lindsay Nelson Jakamarra, [Ceremony], 2024, acrylic paint on acetate mining maps, 1030 × 780 / 780 × 1030mm (each).
As we moved through the spaces, traditional markings began to merge with more contemporary techniques of expressive painting, assemblage and installation. Poetry appeared alongside the imagery, adding context and conviction.
Figure 8. Detail of The Brio's signature-style drawings, paintings and cultural markings and text inscribed on geological mining maps.
In the third room, the walls were painted green, “a nod to the palette of institutional control strewn across the central desert” (Slade, 2024). Lindsay Nelson Jakamara’s ceremonial markings painted on Masonite board calmly re-asserted and reclaimed Aboriginal cultural authority. In the middle was the sculpture Lifting Country by Jimmy Frank Jupurrula. It incorporates a glass and steel “celestial orb connecting earth and sky” (Tennant Creek Brio and ACCA, 2024), from which emanates a soundscape entitled Cosmic Mother by Brio collaborator, Mudburra and Garrawa woman Eleanor Jawurlngali Dixon. In making the mudbricks that are the foundation for this sculptural piece, Jimmy Frank Jupurrula acknowledges the need for better housing for First Nations communities and references his work with Wilya Janta, an initiative to build Aboriginal housing using local knowledge and materials. Several of The Brio artists live in tin shacks with no electricity or running water.
Figure 9. Jimmy Frank Jupurrula, Manu Jakkul Paranjjan (Lifting Country), 2024, mud bricks, steel and glass orb.
Surrounding paintings: Lindsay Nelson Jakamarra, Ceremonial Motif, 2022, oil and acrylic on Masonite board, 1090 × 1090mm.
Entering the fourth room, we were given a glimpse of the shed that The Brio used as their studio and examples of the collaborative way the men created their art. Individualism was replaced by collectivism; artists responded to each other’s imagery and poetry, working together to finish many of the pieces.
Beyond this stood a collection of altered poker machines. The artists explained,
That spear going through this one-eyed man represents white people not respecting our culture and country and protocols – seeing this country just for their own wealth – to mine and run cattle there… The pokie machine represents gambling, alcoholism, pubs, today life. (Desert TV, 2024)
Figure 10. Tennant Creek Brio (Fabian Brown Japaljarri, Jimmy Frank Japurrula, Joseph Williams Jungurayi, Marcus Camphoo Kemarre, Rupert Betheras, Lévi McLean), One eyed man, 2020, repurposed poker machine and jalkarra, single-channel digital video, 2000 × 3100 × 1900mm.
In the final space, large-scale artworks continued the use of industrial materials, incorporating oil drum lids, car bonnets, solar panels and danger signs as context-imbued canvases. Again, The Brio artists push boundaries and styles by using post-modern techniques to express ancient and sacred connections, tell traditional stories and invite in the spirit world.
Figure 11. Fabian Brown Japaljarri and Rupert Betheras, Take me to your leader, 2022–24, oil and acrylic on canvas, 3040 × 4890mm.
Figure 12. Tennant Creek Brio (Clifford Thompson Japaljarri), Scorpio, 2024, enamel paint on tin lids, shovel, steel, car bonnets, steel junk assemblage, 7000 × 8000mm (overall dimensions approx.)
Figure 13. Tennant Creek Brio, Installation of 30 paintings, 2018–24, enamel, oil and acrylic paint on Masonite board, 1090 × 1090mm (each).
Figure 14. Tennant Creek Brio (Lindsay Nelson Jakamarra and Clifford Thompson Japaljarri), High pressure buried gas pipeline, 2023–24, oil and enamel on 18 found road signs painted (installation), 470 × 450mm (each).
The piece Kunari, made from the severed arm of a discarded Incredible Hulk statue, had the impact of a portent for both of us. Its stoic grasp held a beautifully crafted mulga spear. In Tessa’s words,
It seemed to question how masculinity, dis-membered like this, could still maintain power? This strong arm, even without its body, still held aloft a spear capturing the essence of powerful male energy: fighting for what is right, keeping traditions going and adapting to what is needed now.
Figure 15. Jimmy Frank Jupurrula and Jonathan Leahey, Kunari (Lightening Dreaming), 2024, reinforced concrete, mulga wood, steel, with steel base, 2400 × 560 × 2500mm
Background paintings by Fabian Brown Japaljarri and Rupert Betheras, 2022–24.
We leave Jimmy Frank Jupurrula to sum up the essence of this incredible show:
We’ve been massacred
We’ve been put in missions
They took away our land and language
But the resilience is still there and this work represents that. (Slade, 2024)
What does this exhibition inspire in our emergent practices?
Tessa: What resonates vividly are the layers of story, the survival narratives and the scars. Is the witness as participant also able to be marked, crafted and made vivid by these surfaces and layers of story? When we feel into the beaten car bonnets, and dismembered arms, are we also cut up and re-formed? Can we collectively include somewhere in our bodies the painful truths of our colonising and colonised histories and take a stance in solidarity for another way forward?
Jo: I do hope so. That is what I see as the role of what I’m calling a truth-listener: to recognise my ancestral and continual part in this scarring, and to respond to what this provokes in me. There’s discomfort but there’s also a huge determination to make my practice more culturally and historically sensitive.
Tessa: I’m so inspired by the collectivism of The Brio. Most of all I want to support others to do this individual, collective and community practice, here and in Aotearoa.
Jo: I’m with you. It is our work that we need to do, gnarly work, and it feels more possible in collaboration. Let’s together find ways to embody and create both art and change, beginning with our responses as truth-listeners.
Acknowledgement
JoCAT invited Karen Fernando, a proud Gamilaraay and Gumbaynggir woman who is Associate Lecturer in Art Therapy at Western Sydney University, to provide important cultural advice, reviewer feedback and suggestions on the draft of this review. Karen also offered her reflections, as an Indigenous art therapist, upon reading the review:
This exhibition review was both remarkable and powerful to read and really resonated with me deeply. It truly highlights the transformative power of art in conveying truth, fostering healing, and driving towards social change. The Tennant Creek Brio artists demonstrate that art is more than just something beautiful to be admired: it sparks important conversations, challenges our own assumptions, and inspires us to action. The review emphasises the importance of deeply listening to those whose voices are often unheard, allowing them to be amplified through art-making and storytelling. The Tennant Creek Brio artists encourage us to explore different perspectives, offering an opportunity to gain clarity and wisdom, supporting efforts toward reconciliation and social justice. Reading this response to their work feels like a deep call to action that urges us to become more conscious, empathetic, and compassionate, while actively engaging in the creation of a more ‘just world’ for us all (Karen Fernando, personal communication, 7 March 2025).
Endnotes
[1] The men’s art therapy program was not led by a registered arts therapist. It was, however, an arts-led form of community development using a loose form of open studio art. It was described by the participants as ‘a men’s therapeutic meeting through art’. I will continue to use the term ‘arts therapy program’ as this is how it is described in the exhibition. [back to place]
[2] All photos were taken by Jo Campbell. [back to place]
[3] Memories of Coniston (2019), a collaborative work by Tennant Creek Brio artists, Fabian Brown, Joseph Williams and Simon Wilson, is held in the Australian War Memorial. [back to place]
[4] Unable to speak directly to the artists, we have quoted them from various existing interviews. [back to place]
References
ABC Indigenous. (2024, 21 October) Tennant Creek Brio [Video]. https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=921778159445735
Art Guide Australia. (2021, 10 March). Tenant Creek Brio. https://artguide.com.au/tennant-creek-brio/
Delany, M., Clark, J., Goldfinch, E. & McSpedden, S. (2024). Juparnta Ngattu Minjinypa Iconocrisis exhibition statement. Australian Centre for Contemporary Art. https://acca.melbourne/exhibition/tennant-creek-brio/
Desert TV. (2020). Tennant Creek Brio [Video]. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0QrRvyXh-h8
The Guardian. (2022, 16 March). Attempted aboriginal massacres took place as recently as 1981, historian says. https://www.theguardian.com/australia -news/2022/mar/16/attempted-aboriginal-massacres-took-place-as-recently-as-1981-historian-says
Tennant Creek Brio. (2019). Memories of Coniston. [Mixed media on board, 120.5 × 166.5 cm]. Australian War Memorial. https://www.awm.gov.au/collection/C2739200
Tennant Creek Brio and Australian Centre for Contemporary Art. (2024). Wall text. https://content.acca.melbourne/uploads/2024/10/Wall-Text_Tennant-Creek-Brio_ACCA-2024.pdf
Slade, L. (2024). Tennant Creek Brio: Juparnta Ngattu Minjinypa Iconocrisis. Hyphen, Artlink Online Journal, 44(3) https://www.artlink.com.au/articles/6082/tennant-creek-brio-juparnta-ngattu-minjinypa-iconocrisis/
Click to view this exhibition on the Australian Centre for Contemporary Art website archive.
Authors
Jo Campbell
MSc, BA, AThR
Jo Campbell is a Registered Creative Arts Therapist from Ōtautahi/Christchurch and is currently working for Mauri Tui Tuia, Creative Therapies New Zealand. She identifies as Tangata Tiriti, having moved to Aotearoa from Scotland 25 years ago. Jo sees the arts as a playful yet profound way of connecting to ourselves, to each other, and to the world. She brings a history of working in arts therapy within schools and with adults in crisis respite, as well integrating the arts into DBT Programmes and Environmental Education. Jo is also trained in Hakomi Somatic Psychotherapy and has exhibited as a visual artist.
Tessa Priest
MA Narrative Therapy, MCW, BA Hons, PGCE, ACA
Tessa Priest is a practicing narrative therapist, counsellor and community worker trained as a teacher and through the Dulwich Centre. Mostly she works with school age people and young adults in creating devised and written drama, multi-layered stories, performances and the visual arts. Her work has been especially with young people experiencing isolation or despair in rural areas. Tessa seeks to be curious and bring a spirit of creativity to conversations to make us stronger. She is a student of somatic psychotherapy and has ongoing training in consent work and trauma informed practice. Tessa’s own creative practice such as Venus in Time, written and performed in Aotearoa in 2014, investigates migration stories in her family narratives from Aotearoa, Scotland, England and Ireland.