Speech delivered on December 5, National Gallery of Australia

Thank you, Aunty Jude, for your beautiful, thoughtful, generous Welcome to Country. You do it in such a profound way, and you make us think. You make us feel warm and welcome. The last time I saw you do that was when you opened Ouroboros, when you came to welcome us to Country here, and you stood alongside the great Lindy Lee and talked about the relationship between art and culture and First Nations. It's wonderful to see you back here tonight.

I want to pay my respects to the Ngunnawal people as the traditional owners of this land, and recognize any other people or families with connections to the lands of Canberra and the ACT. I pay my deep respects to the Elders past and present of this land. And of course, on such a significant night where we celebrate the Fifth National Indigenous Art Triennial, I warmly extend that respect to the very, very many First Nations peoples who are here tonight—many extraordinary and precious artists and your supporters who have travelled vast distances to be part of this celebration of your work. You are truly welcome here. I'm sure you'd agree with me—on Ngunnawal land, a truly inspiring night to be on this land.

Of course, I want to particularly acknowledge Tony Albert, Girramay/Yidinji/Kuku-Yalanji peoples—you look a little bit like a rock star sitting there in the front row. It makes sense. It's absolutely perfect—for your creative virtuosity as Artistic Director. Sally Brand, I'd also like to acknowledge for the Triennial’s remarkable coordination together with Tony. The two of you have produced something quite remarkable.

We must take a moment, though, before I do some formal acknowledgements, to—in front of the Ambassador of France—formally congratulate Tony on, just this week, receiving the insignia of the Chevalier des Arts et des Lettres from the Republic of France.

You said this in your acceptance speech: that your practice rests on the belief that art is not a souvenir to be taken, but a living vessel carrying knowledge, humour, grief, resistance and imagination. And of course, that's what we celebrate tonight, Tony. We see that in your curation. We know that you have very generously and respectfully drawn on the legacy of previous curators, all of whom were women. And I think there's something in that about what you have extended to the Council and the team at the National Gallery of Australia. I want to acknowledge your dedication for sharing and celebrating Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander art and doing it in a way that elevates the work you will see in the Gallery tonight.

Now, some formal acknowledgements: I’d like to acknowledge the members of the diplomatic corps who always come to these very important events and take these messages back to their countries around the world—particularly, as I said, we have the Ambassador of France here who officiated with the Chevalier. Mr Ryan Stokes AO, Chair of the National Gallery of Australia Council—your words tonight, framed by this stunning landscape that we sit around and enjoy tonight, took us around the world, not just with respect to First Nations work. It's playing its role in the world. You took the NGA around the world for us, and you brought us back to here. You grounded us in the National Gallery, one of the most important institutions that we must cherish and treasure if we're to take seriously that this is the capital of Australia. Thank you for your leadership of the Council.

To Dr Nick Mitzevich, Director of the National Gallery—I don't know what to say about you, Nick, that hasn't been said by so many others. The words just come from your joy, your persistence, your belief, your passion, your leadership, your quiet determination that “no” will never be the answer. You're indefatigable. You care deeply about everyone. You have a clear sense of where this National Gallery has been. You've drawn on the history of previous directors, and you've made this your own now, and you're taking it to make us think deeply about what it means to be a modern Australia in the modern capital.

I also want to acknowledge the many Council members who are here, who do a lot of work; all extraordinary artists, administrators, supporters, donors, who do an amazing amount of work for this institution. The curators and the staff of the National Gallery. Principal patron Tim Fairfax has been mentioned, and the generosity is staggering. Wesfarmers Arts, Qantas, and the numerous patrons, partners and supporters of this Gallery and First Nations art and, of course, the Triennial. As you said, Nick, this is the single largest private philanthropic effort to be achieved by this place. And many of you are here tonight. Many of you have been significantly generous alongside the principal patron. I think a big round of applause for every one of you.

There are many, many distinguished guests—so many that it would be impossible to call you all out. But everyone here is here because you are important to this place and to the Triennial and to the artists.

Tony, I want to thank you for your words tonight. The exhibition alone—the exhibition book alone—is a work of art. I hope there are many, many editions of this, because it's going to sell out. And I would take very seriously the return tomorrow to have the extraordinary opportunity for the signing of the book if you haven't seen it. It's a remarkable piece of work. It positions the exhibition at a point in time and a unifying moment in the stylistic, geographic and cultural diversity of the practice, the influence and the ambition of the artists who make the Triennial. It's hard to think of a more significant, beautiful book that captures an exhibition—pure Tony Albert. I'm not sure about wearing the sneakers for a while, but I'm certainly very attracted to them.

We are also privileged to be here tonight to celebrate the distinctive voice of the artists who journeyed with you to realize your shared vision. And for those of us who have just experienced—or yesterday experienced—the power of the Triennial exhibition, many of you have not yet … Wow. Just get ready. Tony used words that I was trying to pull down as I walked through the various rooms: reverence, vision, kinship, responsibility, speaking power to truth, pulsating love and strength, ripples reaching across the country. There is almost no word that captures what's happening in the rooms of the Triennial.

And going back to when you received your award, you said that you invited artists to do this: to consider what grows beyond disruption and how renewal can emerge from what once seemed broken. Rain received seeds, held possibility unfolding as statements and gestures, whispers and offerings—muted, magnificent, imposing, imperceptible, gentle, fierce, beautiful and powerful. Every one of the works in every room is imbued with the possibility of that change. Tony, it is magnificent—the potential to be found in Tony's words of growing from Country, of listening and learning from artists, of moving with community and of centring the authority of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander artists—is the message for us all. This is an exhibition to reflect deeply upon and to never, ever forget.

As we think about the title After the Rain, I would like to just specifically celebrate Grace Robinya, 81 years old. Oh, she's here—here is Grace, senior woman with the senior women of her community who, together, have all travelled from Alice Springs. When you see the work After the Rain that comes in the last room, I think you'll understand maybe why Tony drew on After the Rain. Because it is Grace and her community that give us the farewell blessing as you leave the exhibition, whispering you through from one side to the other, reminding us all to feel what we are feeling and to be happy after the rain. I want to thank Grace, her community and all of the artists for the exceptional works that take us on that journey that make the Triennial the most glorious moment, I think, for this Gallery.

Now, I had the great privilege on all of your behalf as Governor-General to travel to Uluru in October to mark the 40th anniversary of the handback of Uluru–Kata Tjuta to the ANP. I'm thinking about water and rain a lot, Nick, because thunderstorms cracked and rolled throughout the night before the official ceremony and at dawn, those of us that were lucky to be there witnessed streams of water cascading down Uluru. It was extraordinary—down into the waterholes below, standing on the red earth with the green of the wattle, the mulga and the champi, the spinifex, luminous in an atmosphere that had just been cleansed by rain. We were all fortunate to feel the power of a cycle of new beginnings, celebrating beginnings that had begun 40 years ago with the handback—born of the past and stretching into the future that has shaped the life and landscape of that place for millennia.

I have to confess, I was standing under a big umbrella alongside Sally Scales, one of the Council members here, and great artist, and Walter, her son. It was Walter who gave me these earrings and asked me to wear them tonight. The thunderstorm brought lightning again in the evening, after all the official ceremony, with the heaviest of rains cascading down again, cleansing the dust of the day, before another glorious dawn opened, and we headed to a quiet ceremony at Mutitjulu. Sally had then invited us to spend time with the elders of the NPY Women's Council, where they shared the Pitjantjatjara language cards that they use to express their emotional states when they come together to discuss tough things. They shared words with me that I now use when I try to explain how I'm feeling. The word I will use tonight—the Pitjantjatjara word—is pukalpa. Pukalpa is quite simply “happy,” but of course, in Pitjantjatjara language, it's profoundly, deeply, soulfully happy, because Pitjantjatjara uses one word to say so much, just as all First Nations people tell us so much in every moment.

To all of the artists—I’d love to name you all, but you know, we know who you are. We've heard about many of you tonight. I don't know how we thank you for your stories and projects, which you ask us to engage in with your ideas and your ideas of rebirth and cycles of cleansing. It is simply a joyous act. It's compelling—room after room of magic, as you said, Nick—created where artists were given freedom and respect to bring forth their ideas, their genius, their challenges, their humour and the sheer scale of your cultural strength, created by artists on Country that radiate out from Amata, Hermannsburg, north to Erub in Zenadth Kes and singing from the Torres Strait, south to Melbourne and so many places in between. After the Rain embodies the same powerful cycle of Country, culture and community—born, cleansed, renewed and always growing.

In front of you all, I am so deeply honoured and delighted and privileged to declare the Fifth National Indigenous Art Triennial After the Rain well and truly open.