Search results

This opinion piece by Brye Marshall, an Aboriginal archaeologist, and Julie Nichols, an academic in architecture and digital humanities, explores the agency and authority of intangible cultural heritage [ICH], particularly from a First Nations’ perspective.

They consider how ICH is defined, valued, and supported within contemporary cultural institutions like galleries, libraries, archives, and museums [GLAM], which are custodians of Australian cultural heritage. The piece discusses the challenges of recording Indigenous arts and knowledge outside of Indigenous communities, without recognition or benefits to Indigenous people. The discussion extends to the Western-centric definition of cultural heritage and its limitation in recognising Indigenous world views. The authors acknowledge ongoing debates around best practice in acknowledging Indigenous knowledge and narratives in historical records.

This chapter concludes that redefining ICH from Indigenous perspectives could empower communities, redefine heritage definitions, and contribute to global conversations about heritage, climate change, urban development, and connection to land.

Country and cultural heritage are inextricably linked for First Nations peoples. This chapter explores those relationships in the context of repatriating cultural heritage materials back to Country and conceptualising a place for its ‘awakening’ for the Ngadjuri community of Mid-North South Australia. These materials in the context of this book ‘interpreted’ as a form of data curation, requiring potentially unique information systems designs to achieve accessibility, recoverability, and durability in remote communities with limited internet and mobile phone coverage. On the other hand, it is critically important to note, that the processes, challenges and repatriation of culturally sensitive materials and remains, are dependant here on the limitations of language. The reference to the notion of ‘data’ as a descriptor, and an inadequate term on some level, does not, and is not intended to, diminish any of their cultural significance and gravity. These are challenges that are worth the intellectual and technological investment to realise a return to Country for generationally displaced peoples and their cultural property that also needs to make it home.

The increased use of, and reliance upon, technology and digitalisation, especially in the galleries, libraries, archives and museums [GLAM] sector, has motivated innovative approaches to the curation of cultural material. These changes are especially evident when collaborating with Indigenous partners. Indigenous Data Governance [IDG] and Indigenous Data Sovereignty [IDS], with an emphasis on self-determination of Indigenous peoples, have called for an emerging focus on ethical and culturally sensitive approaches to data collection and management across a range of disciplines and sectors.

This chapter reports on broader discussions, specifically with mid-North South Australia, Indigenous community members around the appropriate and ethical collection, representation and curation of cultural material on Country applying digital formats. It investigates ways to create a ‘future identity’ through built form as well as providing a ‘safe’ place for preservation of their oral histories.

It highlights the many questions raised around the ethically and culturally sensitive aspects of the collection, curation and archiving of Indigenous cultural material. It documents the preliminary outcomes of these conversations in the context of current research on IDS best practices in the field. The non-Aboriginal authors acknowledge our supporting position in the realisation of effective IDS and self-determination of our Aboriginal partners.

Embedded in built environment discourse, this chapter examines the traditional knowledge and resilience of the Ngadjuri Nation Peoples through an Elder’s narrative of reconciliation as well as resistance in their subsisting colonial settlement. Removed from ‘Country’ in the 1840s, Ngadjuri Aboriginal community endured colonial industries of open-cut copper mining and large-scale pastoralism as irreparable destruction to their cultural landscapes. European processes in the resources sectors reshaped natural topographies, deconstructing Ngadjuri Songlines and Ancestral Dreaming stories. Burra’s colonial stone buildings of settlement, painstakingly cut and composed from materials of the surrounding ecological terrain, prompted new narratives from Ngadjuri as a way of alleviating scars. Broadly speaking, this chapter aims to show how cultural heritage of two communities is provocatively and conceptually unpacked through the vernacular buildings’ cross-cultural foundations. That is, an under-reported narrative was unwittingly bestowed on the colonial-built forms with hidden meanings that deserve further investigation. This chapter offers a counternarrative to colonial histories revealing Ngadjuri’s methods for reconnecting to Country and culture after generations of disempowerment. It explores how within the materiality of colonial structures, the Ngadjuri entwined their remediated storylines – revealing a data curation that had avoided popular discourse in the galleries, libraries, archives, and museums [GLAM] sector representation. This example implies there are bodies of knowledge in built cultural heritage hidden elsewhere on our Aboriginal Nations and the challenges it presents GLAM in their Indigenisation processes.

In her opinion piece, Deanne Hanchant-Nichols, a Ngarrindjeri mi:mini (woman) with diverse Aboriginal family connections, reflects on the progress of the galleries, libraries, archives, and museums [GLAM] sector in collaborating with Indigenous communities. She observes a shift from tokenistic consultation towards meaningful engagement, where Indigenous voices are authentically integrated into exhibitions and programmes. The author highlights the example of Te Papa Museum in New Zealand, which successfully partnered with Māori Peoples to create an inclusive and engaging museum experience, contrasting this with the more colonial undertones in some Australian museums.

Hanchant-Nichols explores the concept of Tarrkarri, a proposed cultural centre at Lot 14 in Adelaide, South Australia, which aims to showcase Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander cultural treasures and contemporary works. She acknowledges the challenge of creating a space that genuinely reflects Indigenous culture while operating within a Western cultural paradigm. She emphasises the need for Tarrkarri to be a living cultural centre, accommodating the diverse needs of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities, offering educative and entertainment elements, and maintaining cultural safety.

The author underscores the importance of collaboration with local Kaurna custodians and other cultural groups, respecting their perspectives. She acknowledges the significance of the site on Kaurna Country and the potential for Tarrkarri to establish an internationally renowned cultural centre. Hanchant-Nichols believes that Tarrkarri, with its potential to showcase both heritage and contemporary Indigenous knowledge, could not only excel in the GLAM space but also become a leader in the science, technology, engineering, and mathematics [STEM] field, ultimately shaping a better future for all.