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For Loretta, For Cindy, by Taqralik Partridge, was written in response to media coverage of the trials of perpetrators of the murders of two indigenous women in Canada.

Untitled, by Taqralik Partridge, is a short piece written in response to a performance by Denilson Baniwa in Toronto, September 2019. The Inuktitut adaptations of Untitled are by Ida Saunders and the Dharug Dalang adaptation of Untitled is by Corina Wayali Norman in consultation with Julie Bukari Webb.

Dear Bureaucreacy, by Corina Wayali Norman in consultation with Julie Bukari Webb, is a response to and continuation of Untitled by Taqralik Partidge. It is presented in English and Dharug Dalang.


For Loretta, For Cindy

don’t read it, if you can help it

don’t read it, because it’s not just another bad article about a bad thing

it’s a true story and it’s a stupid story and you will wish

that you could take it back

make it unhappen

you will wish you could switch the sequence of events and remove the part

where she gets killed

you will wish for a miracle

and not even a miracle but just a small edit in the paragraph that will take away the words

that describe how she died

because it was just a stupid, stupid, stupid way to end her life

and how could anyone go on

after that- in words

or in steps or breaths that are not screams

how can we go on

when our sisters are murdered and their deaths are just murmurs on the news

if we are lucky

if we are lucky there will be an outcry on social media and an article in the paper about the outcry

and if we are lucky they will only go into the details of her life like they have to

and if we are lucky no one will revel in her shortcomings or tsk tsk about her lifestyle

and if we are lucky there will be some time between this death and the next where we can sigh and rail and deal with just the day to day shit that makes native women worth less on insurance claims and, on city streets, and in bedrooms, and hotel rooms, and court rooms, and back alleys, and history books, and grocery stores, and subways, and payrolls, and police stations, and doctor’s offices, and he said she said, and waiting at the teller, and waiting for answers, and waiting for good news, and waiting for any news, and waiting for loved ones, and waiting for justice

justice

and did I tell you about the time the police asked me if I was a hooker because I was crying in the street?

and in that vein

do you remember if they told you in school that the words prostitute and murder cannot exist in the same sentence?

or at least that the sentence will be commuted, or reduced, or overturned

and if we are lucky they won’t get out and reoffend

repeat repeat repeat

reoffend

and if we are lucky, one day, we won’t have to count ourselves lucky

to be counted as human beings


untitled

we saw the multitudes
and believed
there were endless hosts
of creatures for our consumption
the birds took flight like
a shoulder of the land
rising into the air
schools of fish turned in the current
and the whole sun in all its glory
shone in the glint of their scales
we had endless land
bottomless wells
clear sweet air to fill
a million million breaths
and never
never would it run out
and how
how today
is it that we can see the edge of this
and how
how today can we not


atsijaummaituq

takusimavugut amisuutsatillugit
uppirijaqartuviniutsutalu
isuqanngitugiallaujuritsugit
uumajugasarjualimaat aturatsariniartavut
timmiat tingilaujuvut suurlu nunarjuap tuinga
qangattatuq tirtukut
iqalugasarjuagasait sangunniqut inirranirmut
siqiniullu iluunnani qaummasainilimaarmigut
qaumatilaujuvait qillaagiarninginnit kavisilimaangitta
isuqanngitunik nunaqalaujuvugut
nataaqanngitunik sulliviqarsuta
salumajuapimmik mamartuaniapimmik tirtusaqarsuta tataigutitsavunnik
kisitsaungittunik kisigatsaungimmarittunik anirsaariarnivunnik
taimalu nungunniarani
nungulaursimaniaranilu
qanurlu
qanuq ullumi
taimaitsariva takugunnasuta killinganik tamatsuma
qanuq ullumi takugunnangitsugu


ᐊᑦᓯᔭᐅᒻᒣᑐᖅ

ᑕᑯᓯᒪᕗᒍᑦ ᐊᒥᓲᑦᓴᑎᓪᓗᒋᑦ
ᐅᑉᐱᕆᔭᖃᕐᑐᕕᓂᐅᑦᓱᑕᓗ
ᐃᓱᖃᖕᖏᑐᒋᐊᓪᓚᐅᔪᕆᑦᓱᒋᑦ
ᐆᒪᔪᒐᓴᕐᔪᐊᓕᒫᑦ ᐊᑐᕋᑦᓴᕆᓂᐊᕐᑕᕗᑦ
ᑎᒻᒥᐊᑦ ᑎᖏᓚᐅᔪᕗᑦ ᓲᕐᓗ ᓄᓇᕐᔪᐊᑉ ᑐᐃᖓ
ᖃᖓᑦᑕᑐᖅ ᑎᕐᑐᑯᑦ
ᐃᖃᓗᒐᓴᕐᔪᐊᒐᓭᑦ ᓴᖑᓐᓂᖁᑦ ᐃᓂᕐᕋᓂᕐᒧᑦ
ᓯᕿᓂᐅᓪᓗ ᐃᓘᓐᓇᓂ ᖃᐅᒻᒪᓭᓂᓕᒫᕐᒥᒍᑦ
ᖃᐅᒪᑎᓚᐅᔪᕓᑦ ᕿᓪᓛᒋᐊᕐᓂᖏᓐᓂᑦ ᑲᕕᓯᓕᒫᖏᑦᑕ
ᐃᓱᖃᖕᖏᑐᓂᒃ ᓄᓇᖃᓚᐅᔪᕗᒍᑦ
ᓇᑖᖃᖕᖏᑐᓂᒃ ᓱᓪᓕᕕᖃᕐᓱᑕ
ᓴᓗᒪᔪᐊᐱᒻᒥᒃ ᒪᒪᕐᑐᐊᓂᐊᐱᒻᒥᒃ ᑎᕐᑐᓴᖃᕐᓱᑕ ᑕᑌᒍᑎᑦᓴᕗᓐᓂᒃ
ᑭᓯᑦᓴᐅᖏᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᑭᓯᒐᑦᓴᐅᖏᒻᒪᕆᑦᑐᓂᒃ ᐊᓂᕐᓵᕆᐊᕐᓂᕗᓐᓂᒃ
ᑌᒪᓗ ᓄᖑᓐᓂᐊᕋᓂ
ᓄᖑᓚᐅᕐᓯᒪᓂᐊᕋᓂᓗ
ᖃᓄᕐᓗ
ᖃᓄᖅ ᐅᓪᓗᒥ
ᑌᒣᑦᓴᕆᕙ ᑕᑯᒍᓐᓇᓱᑕ ᑭᓪᓕᖓᓂᒃ ᑕᒪᑦᓱᒪ
ᖃᓄᕐᓗ
ᖃᓄᖅ ᐅᓪᓗᒥ ᑕᑯᒍᓐᓇᖏᑦᓱᒍ



marridjulu naadyinyi
yuwindyi
gurragurra mudung gumadawa
wiringra guwulra bada ngalari-ngayi
binyang wumaradja daraguwayang
dhatrung nurawa
burbugali bayadjawa
mguramarri walidya garagulawa
guwing gadalung dyarra murrama
killiwa killidyawi barrangal
gurragurra nurayin ngaliya
buruk badu nurura
yarragul budyari bayadjagu buruk
yirran marridjulu marridjulu ngayana
biyalbuni
biyalbuni barabani
yilany
yilany darrabarra
nanu diyi naanyi garagula diyi
yilany
yilany darrabarra biyal ngyila

Dear Bureaucracy

Corina Wayali Norman

Dear Bureaucracy,

As we grieve with Mother Earth, our country burning
As we rise up for climate change
We ask, why, why, why do you not listen?

You could have prevented this had you trusted our people, our old ways

Not respecting our continual Traditions, Culture, Knowledge
This ring of fire runs wild
Destruction of country, life, in all forms, forever changed, forever gone!


A heartbreaking and senseless loss for your greed and power
Colonialism still controlling our present, our future, our right to care, ‘as’ country
YES, we weep and advocate from the edge

As our Mother burns under your hands in despair

Tell me, whose edge matters?

dunganyi bamul wiyanga, ganayli nuragal nayli- ngaliya
burabugagul bidiluray budyari ngaliya
Baya, minyin, minyin, minyin guribuni ngyini?
ngyini miwana yiyaridya diyi wari wari ngyini yuwing yura, gunyalungalung nayli-ngaliya
biyal gulbanga mudung Yalabi Dayalung, Gunyalungalung, Wingara nayli- ngaliya
dilbanyi guwing wumara wiri diyi
daydyaywa nuragu, mudung, daraguwayang, walamabuni daraguwayangbuni, walamabuni baluwibuni!
butbut gudbali bininggaray wari buyi djirra bulbuwulbuni ngyini-ngayi
wadyiman darimi mawa guwugu, ngabay, wagal budyari nuragal ngalari-ngayi
YUWIN, dunga bayamanyi garagulayin ngaliya
Bamul Biyanga ganara damaragadi dyarrba badja nayli-ngaliya
guwanyi dana, wawu garagulawa burudi?

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May reading group

Join the May reading group hosted by Brook Andrew. This month the reading group will use as a leaping off point Brook’s letter to NIRIN artists in the leadup to the Biennale, as bushfires raged across Australia. Register your interest here

Reading Nirin—Gladys Milroy

A series of short readings by artists who have contributed to the 22nd Biennale of Sydney publication, NIRIN NGAAY. In this session Gladys Milroy reads her story ‘The Black Feather’.

Lucky for Some

Watch Brian Fuata perform at the Biennale of Sydney opening week.

An artist’s book by Stuart Geddes and Trent Walter.
Edited by Jessyca Hutchens, Brook Andrew, Stuart Geddes and Trent Walter.
Commissioned for the 22nd Biennale of Sydney.

The Biennale of Sydney team and authors of this publication acknowledge the Gadigal people of the Eora Nation; the Boorooberongal people of the Dharug Nation; the Bidiagal, Dharawal and Gamaygal people, on whose ancestral lands and waters NIRIN gathers.

NIRIN is a safe place for people to honour mutual respect and the diversity of expression and thoughts that empower us all.

NIRIN NGAAY is a compilation, a collection, a volume, an Artist Book, a Reader, an artwork, a sprawling, excessive heterogenous space of connections. Published as part of the 22nd Biennale of Sydney (2020), titled NIRIN, A Wiradjuri word meaning ‘edge’, this book is a space where ideas, themes, research, and experiments arising out of NIRIN find places on pages. Traversing many disciplines and forms, encompassing new and previously published works, complete works as well as excerpts and fragments and responses, each piece may ask for new modes of reading and seeing. Instead of disorienting, we see many lines darting and weaving across these works, beautiful moments of syncing and overlap, affective and abstract resonances, moments of density, as well as pauses to breathe deeply. Read and see and touch at random or with resolve – we hope that you will appreciate the way these works unfold and twist together, creating movements of meaning between them. ‘NGAAY’ is a Wiradjuri word meaning ‘see.’ To really see ‘edges’, might also be to sense and feel and trace them, they come into view with clarity, hover in the periphery, or drift away like memories.

Buy the book

Copies of NIRIN NGAAY can be purchased at the
Biennale of Sydney Shop

Book credits

First published in 2020 by the Biennale of Sydney Ltd.

Published with generous support from Aesop and the Copyright Agency’s Cultural Fund.

This publication is copyright and all rights are reserved. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced or
communicated to the public by any process without prior written permission of the copyright holder.

© Biennale of Sydney Ltd
All texts and artworks © the author or artist.

Published for the exhibition the 22nd Biennale of Sydney: NIRIN, 14 March – 8
June 2020.

ISBN: 978-0-9578023-9-1

Biennale of Sydney
Chief Executive Officer: Barbara Moore
Artistic Director: Brook Andrew
Editors: Jessyca Hutchens, Brook Andrew, Stuart Geddes and Trent Walter
Publications team: Sebastian Henry-Jones, Liz Malcolm and Jodie Polutele

Designed, typeset and printed by Stuart Geddes and Trent Walter on a Heidelberg GTO 52. Some sections printed by Printgraphics and Newsprinters.

The views expressed in this publication are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect those of the Biennale of Sydney.

Biennale of Sydney Ltd
Level 4
10 Hickson Road
The Rocks NSW 2000
Australia

Film credits

Directed & Edited by
Amy Browne

Camera by
Amy Browne
Jason Heller
Kim Nguyen
Isabella Plaza

Sound by
Ben Coe

Nirin Ngaay