Archie Moore’s latest exhibition, “kith and kin,” at the Australia Pavilion in Venice’s Giardini offers a poignant exploration of First Nations resilience against a backdrop of historical trauma.
Over the past month, Moore, an artist of Kamilaroi and Bigambul descent, has meticulously inscribed names across the Pavilion’s walls and ceiling, each name representing a year in the tumultuous history of Australia’s First Nations peoples. This act of remembrance and protest stands in stark contrast to the systemic efforts throughout history to erase Indigenous cultures.
Moore’s installation is a profound tribute to the endurance of Australia’s First Nations cultures, some of the oldest continuous cultures in the world. The names etched into the Pavilion reflect the personal and collective suffering experienced by these communities due to colonial injustices. Moore, who is of Kamilaroi and Bigambul descent through his mother and British and Scottish descent through his father, has created an environment where visitors confront the harrowing legacy of colonisation.
The title “kith and kin” is derived from a 14th-century definition of “kith,” which refers to one’s countrymen or people of the same country. Moore chose this title to align with the Indigenous understanding of land as integral to kinship. His choice to use chalk on blackboard paint evokes his own educational experiences, where Indigenous histories were glaringly absent. The installation’s black walls, covered with white names, are punctuated by three large black voids. These spaces symbolise disruptions in the genealogical line caused by massacres, viral outbreaks, or the destruction and omission of records. They also signify the profound loss of up to 700 Indigenous dialects, with fewer than 160 surviving today.
The Pavilion’s centrepiece is a shallow rectangular memorial pool surrounded by stacks of white paper, which appear to float above the water. These stacks are primarily composed of coroners’ inquest reports documenting over 550 deaths of First Nations individuals in custody, with some reports as recent as last December. The placement of these documents close to the water necessitates that visitors bow in respect to read them, creating a moment of humility and reflection. In stark contrast to the intimate chalk inscriptions, these documents are presented in cold, impersonal language, their redacted names a chilling reminder of the systemic neglect and violence faced by First Nations people.
In addition to the documentation of deaths, Moore’s installation includes evidence of state surveillance and control over First Nations communities. The Pavilion features correspondence involving Moore’s grandparents with the “Protector of Aboriginals,” a role that, despite its benign title, involved enforcing oppressive measures such as monitoring movements and controlling marriages. This archival inclusion adds a deeply personal layer to the broader narrative of systemic oppression.
Moore’s own genealogy is woven into the fabric of the Pavilion’s design. Starting with Moore’s name on the back wall, the installation extends to his father’s lineage on the left and his mother’s on the right. The stark contrast between the sides highlights the scarcity of written records for Aboriginal people. Christian names imposed by missionaries and colonists—often devoid of surnames and reduced to nicknames like “Old Florrie” and “Billy”—appear alongside racial slurs and classifications that underscored a hierarchical racial system. These labels served to legitimise the separation of First Nations families, a practice that persisted until the 1970s.
As the viewer’s gaze moves upward, the names and kinship terms of Kamilaroi and Bigambul heritage become more prominent. These names transition into tightly packed boxes, creating a visual metaphor for a cellular or constellatory system. The variation in the rhythm of the inscriptions produces a luminescence that evokes the imagery of nebulae, symbolising the enduring presence of Indigenous knowledge and culture despite historical attempts to extinguish it.
The use of voids throughout the Pavilion—whether the nameless gaps on the walls, the blank white documents, or the central black abyss—imbues the space with a profound sense of loss and absence. The minimalistic black-and-white palette and formal geometry of Moore’s design, achieved in collaboration with Buttrose, enhance the exhibition’s dramatic impact. The Pavilion’s stark aesthetics underscore the gravity of its message while inviting contemplation on the ongoing effects of historical injustices.
At this year’s Biennale, where Indigenous artists feature prominently in a global dialogue curated by Adriano Pedrosa, Moore’s “kith and kin” stands out as a powerful statement on the resilience and ongoing struggles of First Nations peoples. Through this evocative installation, Moore not only honours the historical and cultural significance of his ancestors but also challenges visitors to reckon with the painful legacy of colonialism and the enduring strength of Australia’s First Nations communities.