Welcome to the third instalment of Emily’s European Summer, or maybe now we should be calling it ‘Emily’s Extended European Summer’.

In our previous articles, we explored the anticipation leading up to the Tate Modern exhibition and reflected on how earlier retrospectives shaped Emily’s legacy. Now, having seen the show in person, our directors and senior art consultants returned with a mix of admiration and unease.

While we had hoped that this final stage of Emily’s journey to London might bring clarity, it seems instead to have prompted even more questions - about what was included, what was omitted, and how these choices were made.

We want to be clear: these questions don’t come from cynicism. They come from care. As advocates and supporters of Aboriginal art, we believe that honest critique is essential if we are to grow as an industry and do justice to the legacies we represent.

None of what follows is intended to diminish the importance of the Tate exhibition. On the contrary, our hope is that by asking difficult questions, we contribute to a deeper appreciation of Emily’s life, work, and enduring influence.

The Exhibition Itself – Beauty and Boundaries

There’s no denying it: Emily’s artworks looked magnificent. Visitors young and old stood mesmerised before her canvases, and it was heartening to see her art captivate a new international audience.

Many critics highlighted the wall text by Jedda Purvis and Josie Kunoth - “If you close your eyes and imagine the paintings in your mind’s eye, you will see them transform. They are real - what Kngwarray[e] painted is alive and true.” Some visitors and arts journalists even returned to the beginning of the show to see her work anew, which perhaps speaks to how powerfully such context can shape interpretation.

The inclusion of archival footage and interviews was also a welcome touch, helping to reframe Emily not as a solitary genius, but as a respected senior woman grounded in community and culture. The curatorial intention - to “re-ground” her art in Country and to highlight the collective strength of her practice - is admirable.

Yet, while the presentation was visually stunning and conceptually well-crafted, we couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu. Much of the exhibition felt like a carbon copy of the 2023 NGA retrospective, but without any visible response to the criticism that show received.

If asked whether this is the most comprehensive Emily exhibition we’ve seen, we would have to say no. Do her paintings shine regardless? Absolutely. But the story is incomplete - and, at times, surprisingly narrow.

It appears that the decision to showcase works from only a limited provenance, resulted in a somewhat uniform display. The energy and variety that so often define Emily’s painting practice seemed muted, even restrained.

We also noticed some new names featured prominently throughout the exhibition, on wall texts, in soundbites, and in the accompanying film. These inclusions came as a surprise, prompting us to learn more about who these contributors are and what their connection to Emily might be. We explore this further in the next section, as it raises important questions about consultation and representation.

Then there’s the gift shop. While it’s not uncommon for major exhibitions to rely on merchandise sales to help offset the high costs of running an international show, we couldn’t help but pause at the sight of Emily’s sacred Dreaming designs reproduced on tea towels, tote bags, and coasters. The question arises: when the exhibition presents these works with such grandeur and reverence, does seeing them distilled into everyday objects undermine the sense of their cultural significance? Perhaps there might have been alternative ways to extend the exhibition’s impact - through thoughtful publications, educational programs, or cultural resources - that could’ve offered a deeper, more meaningful engagement with Emily’s legacy. It’s a subtle tension between accessibility and respect for the sacredness embedded in these works.

Lastly, we were struck by the fact that some individuals prominently featured in the exhibition's narrative have also benefited commercially from the show. While it’s common for various parties to gain from such high-profile events, it does raise the question: when commercial gain becomes so visible, who stands to benefit the most, and who might be left out of the conversation? This raises important considerations about the representation and involvement of key voices in Emily’s story, especially given the absence of direct descendants at key moments, including the exhibition opening.

What’s Missing – The Question of Omission

One of the most striking aspects of the Tate exhibition was not what was on the walls, but who was not in the room. As art critic John McDonald observed, there appeared to be no representation from Emily’s closest family at the opening - an omission that felt particularly jarring given how customary it has become for Aboriginal voices to be present at major international events of this kind. Whether this was due to budget, logistics, or oversight, it appeared at odds with the spirit of inclusion that the exhibition otherwise aimed to uphold.

As we noted in our previous article, several of Emily’s most significant works also remain conspicuously absent - Earth’s Creation (1994), the Final Series (1996), and Emily’s Wall (1994–95). These are not only milestones in her career, but key works that offer deep insight into her evolving style, spirituality, and relationship with Country.

Given the scale and prestige of Tate Modern, one might have expected these monumental pieces to be included. Their continued exclusion raises important questions about the curatorial process. If this exhibition aims to be the definitive presentation of Emily’s artistic journey, why have these works been deliberately left out?

Recently, The Art Newspaper quoted Tate co-curator Kelli Cole, who explained that the show focused on works from “the height of Emily’s career,” intentionally omitting paintings created during her later years. While this provides some insight, it also prompts further reflection. Does curatorial selectivity under the international spotlight risk shaping an incomplete legacy, one that focuses more on inference than on the full arc of Emily’s creative life?

It’s difficult not to draw comparisons with Western art history. Would we, for instance, dismiss Monet’s late waterlilies because he painted them while nearly blind? Or overlook Van Gogh’s final works because they were produced amid mental illness? Those late paintings are celebrated as profound expressions of maturity and emotion.

In our view, Emily’s Final Series deserves the same recognition. These paintings demonstrate that as an artist’s physical tools weaken, the creative impulse often strengthens - producing some of the most innovative work of their career. To exclude them is to present an incomplete portrait of Emily’s artistic evolution.

While there were undoubtedly complex social, economic, and cultural contexts in which Emily worked, it appears that curators may sometimes conflate an artist’s physical vulnerability with a loss of artistic merit, a narrative rarely applied to Western artists.

There is nothing inherently lesser about Emily’s later works, and to imply otherwise risks misunderstanding the many motivations behind creation. Artists paint for personal, spiritual, and practical reasons - and for many Aboriginal artists, art sales are an essential means of supporting family and community.

Cole also referred to two “recognised lines of provenance” - Holt’s Delmore Gallery and Rodney Gooch - as markers of artistic and ethical quality. While both played important roles in Emily’s story, it appears that other provenances once widely accepted and respected have been excluded from this narrative.

[A full list can be found in our FAQs Blog Series, but examples include the Aboriginal Gallery of Dreamings (AGOD) whose long-standing contributions have been notably and, in our opinion, unfairly overlooked.]

Of particular concern is the exclusion of works associated with DACOU (Dreaming Art Centre of Utopia). Founded by Fred Torres and led on the ground by Barbara Weir, both of whom are of Anmatyerre descent, like Emily, along with Alyawarre heritage, their Country is in close proximity to Emily’s.

DACOU was an Aboriginal-owned initiative deeply intertwined with Emily’s practice, care, and legacy. Barbara Weir was one of Emily’s primary carers and travel companions, providing materials, guidance, and support, and her relationship with Emily is even featured in the exhibition’s own supporting film I Am Kam[e].

To suggest, even implicitly, that DACOU’s involvement in Emily’s life and career was less legitimate is not just an oversight - it’s a distortion of history. This isn’t a minor detail; it’s a critical part of Emily’s story that cannot be ignored. The very suggestion that DACOU’s contribution to Emily’s art and life is less relevant than other provenances is not only misleading - it undermines the integrity of the exhibition itself.

This narrowing of provenance raises further questions about influence and market impact. It is interesting to note that some major auction houses now only accept works aligned with the same two ‘recognised’ provenance lines. From the sidelines, it appears that this practice may be making an already niche market even narrower, potentially driving up demand for certain works while devaluing others.

In our opinion, this selective framing is not a mere side issue, it directly harms those who have a rightful stake in Emily’s legacy. The exclusion of DACOU and other provenances impacts Emily’s family, who rely on art sales for much-needed financial support. To see their ancestor’s legacy reduced to a market-driven narrative not only demeans her artistic journey but also undermines Emily’s cultural authority, and the economic stability of the family.

The omission is a tangible loss, as perfectly valid works are, in our opinion, cynically devalued, and the family's rightful connection to Emily’s legacy is diminished. This is not just a matter of market forces, but of cultural integrity and respect for the broader context of Emily’s life and work.

We can’t help but wonder: How would Emily feel seeing some of her work valued over others? What would Emily have said if she was told that works were excluded because her artistic powers were diminished? Would the Curators have had the gumption to even suggest that to Emily?

All her paintings come from her Dreamings, created to share her stories and support her family. Can’t both aspects of her legacy - her cultural significance and her dedication to her family - co-exist without one devaluing the other?

Seeking Answers – Turning to Family Voices

These questions left our team with more curiosity than conclusions. To understand the full picture, our directors travelled to Central Australia to meet with Emily’s family and listen.

It quickly became clear that Emily’s kinship network is intricate: eight lines of descendants through Emily’s siblings and many more through her first cousins, each with many branches and connections through marriage and culture.

Some are close family, others more distant family, while others are connected through extended kinship ties that remain culturally significant. Mapping this network helped us understand not only who “family” is, but also how varied their experiences and perspectives are.

In our discussions, we found warmth, humour, and deep respect - but also a sense of confusion and exclusion. It seems that Emily’s closest family members were not consulted for the Tate show, and when we spoke with them, they described feeling left out of important decisions.

While the consultation list for the exhibition was long, it may not have captured the full complexity of Emily’s lineage. The Tate show credits tell us that the consultation list has missed much of Emily’s closest family and prioritised people who were not only not related, but more importantly, did not come from her country, Alhalkerre.

This, in our opinion, raises important questions about how “consultation” is defined - and who ultimately gets to speak for an artist’s legacy.

The Spelling Controversy – When Consultation Meets Moral Rights

One of the most pressing concerns raised by Emily’s family relates to the spelling of her name. The Tate and NGA exhibitions adopted the spelling “Kam[e] Kngwarray[e],” following linguistic advice and what the exhibition literature advises us was “community consultation”.

But who, exactly, was consulted? We’ve had the opportunity to meet with and consult multiple times with six of the eight lines of descent from Emily’s siblings, as well as descendants of Emily’s cousins. Across the board, they are deeply upset and frustrated about the change and assert that they were either not consulted at all or, if they were, it was not in a way that allowed them to fully understand the significance of the discussion.

If the response from curators is that the change was approved by the community, then more questions arise. Since when has a community been given the right to alter a person’s name against the family’s wishes? And more importantly, which community are we referring to here? Is it the people of Alhalkerre, Emily’s Country, the people of Aknangkerre, an adjoining Country, or another group entirely?

That fact remains that Emily’s clearly stated wishes have not been upheld. Throughout her life, Emily confirmed that she wanted her name spelled “Emily Kame Kngwarreye” - the name under which she painted, exhibited, and achieved international recognition.

In our understanding, this is more than a linguistic adjustment. It touches directly on an artist’s moral rights, authorship, and legacy. As Margo Ngawa Neale, who curated Emily’s 1998 and 2008 retrospectives, has stated, Emily was adamant that her name remains unchanged, aware that linguists might attempt to alter it posthumously.

For Emily, the spelling “Kngwarreye” was not simply a transliteration, but part of her artistic identity - the name the world came to know and celebrate. Moreover, Kame is the name of a Dreaming and relatives have pointed out ‘You cannot change Kame, that is the name of a Dreaming’.

We acknowledge that the written form of Anmatyerre is complex and that scholarly intentions are often well-meaning. However, when all of an artist’s close family with whom we have been able to consult with to this point disagree with such a change, how can it truly be said to reflect proper consultation?

It appears that this situation sits uncomfortably between good intention and miscommunication, and perhaps between curatorial precision and an artist’s moral rights.

If there is any doubt about how Emily wanted her name spelled, one need only look to the gravestone that bears her chosen name: 

Broader Implications – Provenance, Consultation, and Legacy

What’s happening here is part of a much wider conversation. Across the global museum sector, institutions are grappling with how to balance scholarship, market forces, and the lived authority of community voices. Aboriginal art - with its deep interweaving of culture, kinship, and Country - adds layers of complexity, but also great opportunity.

In our opinion, major institutions such as the Tate and the NGA now face an important moment of reflection. Both have made curatorial choices that, intentionally or not, have altered the public understanding of Emily’s legacy; through the omission of key works, and the adoption of a name spelling not recognised by much of her family. In our view, this is an unacceptable outcome.

These issues are not confined to one artist or one exhibition. They speak to how we, as an art community, honour the people and cultures we represent. Emily remains a trailblazer in every sense: she catapulted Aboriginal art and culture onto the world stage during her lifetime, and now her work stands at the frontier of how we uphold artistic legacies in a complex, globalised art world.

As the debate continues, we believe this situation must be resolved before confusion seeps into the marketplace. Collectors and audiences alike risk being turned off by uncertainty, politics, and inconsistency. No doubt, the process may be uncomfortable. But for us, the artist’s wishes, her legacy, and her descendants must remain the central focus.

In our view, the question is not about blame, but about balance. Recognition abroad must go hand in hand with respect at home. True celebration of Emily means not only showcasing her art to the world but ensuring that her story - and her family’s voices - are told with integrity and in full.

Continuing the Conversation

Emily Kame Kngwarreye’s art continues to move and inspire people across continents. The Tate exhibition is a testament to that, and we celebrate the visibility it brings. But admiration and accountability can, and should, coexist. Asking questions is not an act of opposition; it’s an act of care.

This series has been a journey - one that has led us to listen more deeply, ask more questions, and seek clarity where confusion persists. While we had intended to conclude by announcing an exhibition celebrating Emily and other remarkable women artists from Utopia, the story has evolved. For now, the most important next step is conversation.

We have been asking a lot of questions throughout this series – the next step is to seek the answers. In the coming months, we will reach out to the relevant parties to seek dialogue and, hopefully, greater understanding around the decisions that have shaped Emily’s legacy.

Because in the end, honouring Emily means more than exhibiting her work - it means standing up for her story, her legacy, and for her family.

Emily Kame Kngwarreye’s Exhibition Legacy: What Came Before the Tate Show?

As the Tate Modern prepares to present its major survey of Emily Kame Kngwarreye’s work, it’s essential to look back at the exhibitions that have shaped how her legacy has been understood - and how that legacy continues to evolve. In particular, we take a close look at the 2023 National Gallery of Australia (NGA) retrospective, which forms the foundation of the upcoming Tate show.

One of the most important exhibitions in Emily’s legacy to date was the 2008 exhibition Utopia: The Genius of Emily Kame Kngwarreye, developed by the National Museum of Australia and presented at major galleries in Japan before returning to Canberra.

Showcasing 120 works drawn from over 60 public, private, and corporate collections, it was the most comprehensive exhibition of Emily’s work ever assembled to that point. It charted the full arc of her brief but explosive career, from her first canvas in 1988 to her final works in 1996, revealing a deep visual and conceptual continuity from beginning to end.

This exhibition was not just about the paintings themselves. It was grounded in community, supported by an Indigenous reference group, and shaped by extensive consultation. A key figure in that process was Barbara Weir, Emily’s niece and a respected artist.

Fluent in language and protocol, Barbara played a critical role in connecting the curatorial team to the right people, places, and stories - even during a politically fraught time in the Northern Territory. She introduced curator Margo Ngawa Neale and the Ronin Films team to senior custodians and close relatives, helped secure invaluable cultural content, and smoothed the path for respectful engagement.

Barbara passed away in January 2023, just before the NGA exhibition opened. While she was no longer with us to participate in this latest project, the consultative process had already been underway for some time. Her absence is deeply felt - not only because of her pivotal role in past exhibitions, but because she was an extraordinary woman, artist, and cultural bridge.

Her son, Fred Torres, a trailblazing Indigenous art dealer, also contributed significantly to the 2008 project. Both Barbara and Fred travelled to Japan for the opening alongside artist Gloria Petyarre, representing Utopia with strength and pride. Gloria performed songs and dances connected to Emily’s Country, giving many Japanese visitors their first experience of Aboriginal culture. Their presence was more than symbolic -it was an embodiment of the community connection that underpins Emily’s work.

It is striking, then, to note the absence of these same figures from the NGA’s 2023 retrospective and the forthcoming Tate exhibition. Despite Fred’s pioneering role and the fact that his collection formed part of the 2008 show, he is not acknowledged in the 2023 catalogue. Nor is Margo Neale, who curated both the 1998 and 2008 retrospectives. What does it say when those who helped shape and protect Emily’s legacy are no longer part of the conversation?

^{Some photos of the 2023 NGA Exhibition}

Curatorial choices shape public perception. One of the most glaring aspects of the 2023 NGA retrospective was the omission of three major milestones in Emily’s career: Earth’s Creation (1994), her remarkable Final Series of 24 small paintings completed in just three days, and the absence of Emily's Wall (1994–95), a monumental project conceived and commissioned by prominent art dealer and collector Hank Ebes.

Emily's Wall was painted over the course of a year and depicts a seasonal cycle in Kngwarreye’s Country. Each work was completed in a single week, resulting in an expansive, immersive body of fifty panels that flank a monumental centrepiece, with additional long, narrow works representing the wet and dry seasons. Before work commenced, the consent of Traditional Owner Greeny Purvis Petyarre was sought and granted - a significant act of cultural authority and respect. The project was carefully documented, including Emily’s process of mapping out the sequence of the wall. The scale and ambition of this work is extraordinary, and Tate Modern - one of the few galleries with walls large enough to accommodate it - would have been an ideal venue to showcase such a masterpiece.

The NGA’s own multi-panel work, The Alhalker Suite (1993), is justifiably admired and forms a key part of their display. Yet one cannot help but wonder what it might have meant to include both of these major wall installations in the Tate show. What an extraordinary opportunity it could have been for audiences to experience the breadth of Emily’s vision through these two monumental projects, each underpinned by meaningful consultation and storytelling.

Earth’s Creation is arguably Emily’s most famous and monumental painting - acclaimed for its power, scale, and expressive energy. Its absence from the exhibition is perplexing, particularly given that there appears to be no issues surrounding authenticity or access. The work is currently held by respected collectors Nicola and Andrew Forrest and has been widely exhibited. If provenance is the concern - as some have suggested - it raises uncomfortable questions about curatorial gatekeeping and whether artworks are being assessed by their market path rather than their merit.

Equally troubling is the omission of Emily’s Final Series. These 24 paintings, completed shortly before her passing, offer an emotionally resonant conclusion to her career. One of these works was prominent enough to grace the cover of the 2008 Japanese catalogue, yet the entire series is absent from both the 2023 NGA show and the upcoming Tate exhibition. The result is a narrative that ends abruptly, severing a vital chapter of Emily’s creative journey.

^{A selection of 'The Final Series' hung at The Lume Exhibition, 2023 & the 2008 Exhibition Catalogue Cover} 

If the goal is to present a true retrospective, these exclusions are difficult to reconcile. The public loses out - not only on seeing some of Emily’s most profound works, but also on understanding the full arc of her practice. When curators allow biases around provenance or artist representation to dictate inclusion, it is ultimately the artist’s legacy that suffers.

These are especially pressing questions when one considers the change in the spelling of Emily’s name. The 2023 NGA and Tate exhibitions have adopted the spelling "Emily Kam Kngwarray," a decision that has caused division. While curators say the change reflects linguistic standards and community consultation, others have questioned whether the artist’s own wishes have been respected.

Margo Ngawa Neale, who curated Emily’s 1998 and 2008 retrospectives and worked closely with her, has stated that Emily was adamant her name remain unchanged. She was aware that linguists might try to alter it posthumously, but insisted it stay the same - because that was the name the world knew her by. Neale considered it supremely disrespectful to override that wish.

Her gravestone, after all, reads “Emily Kame Kngwarreye” - a lasting and personal testament to how she wanted to be remembered. For her family, this isn’t just a question of orthography; it’s about legacy, love, and respect. Are we witnessing a situation where academic accuracy is being prioritised over the personal - over the wishes of the artist herself and her family, who knew and loved her? 

Charmaine Pwerle, Barbara Weir’s daughter, is another glaring omission. A highly accomplished artist and initiated woman in her own right, Charmaine grew up on Country, worked with the Urapuntja Land Council, and witnessed Emily painting firsthand. She has also worked for a leading Melbourne gallery, served as a Director and Member of the Aboriginal Cultural Council for the Aboriginal Art Association of Australia, and has long been an active advocate for artists' rights and industry standards.

Despite this deep connection to both community and the art world, Charmaine is not included in the curatorial framework of the current exhibitions. Instead, Emily’s legacy is largely presented through the lens of the newly established Utopia Art Centre, which only opened in 2020.

While the centre describes itself as providing a safe and ethical space for artists - particularly in contrast to past dealer-led models - Utopia has historically been a region defined by its independent artists and self-determination. Emily herself chose to work independently, as do many others.

To present her legacy solely through the voices of a small and recent subset of that community, while excluding influential independent artists like Charmaine, seems an unfortunate narrowing of perspective. It would have been powerful to include her voice in the dialogue - both as someone shaped by Emily’s legacy, and as someone shaping the future of Utopia art. Her omission feels less about merit, and more about method - how she chooses to work - and that, in itself, raises important questions about inclusivity and representation.

Even the claim that this is the "first time European audiences will experience a comprehensive showcase" of Emily’s work is worth questioning. In 1999, renowned collector Hank Ebes curated a major exhibition of Emily’s work at Amsterdam’s Oude Kerk. The show drew massive crowds and was a significant moment for Aboriginal art in Europe. Yet neither that exhibition nor Ebes' works are referenced in the current narrative.

The 2023 NGA retrospective catalogue includes a timeline described as a "selected overview of the events impacting and shaping Emily's life." While it doesn’t aim to list every exhibition, the omission of a major early solo European show is nonetheless surprising. Especially when compared to the inclusion of more recent developments, like the establishment of the Utopia Art Centre in 2020.

And while the 2022 exhibition Emily: Desert Painter of Australia at Gagosian Paris is included in the timeline, it raises another important question: is this Tate Modern exhibition truly the "first" of its kind in Europe - or simply the first since the global market’s interest in Emily’s work has surged? Once again, we are left wondering whether curatorial choices are subtly privileging certain forms of provenance or institutional relationships over others.

None of these observations are meant to diminish the importance of the Tate show. Our greatest hope is to see Aboriginal art appreciated, celebrated, and understood globally. We believe that exhibitions like this have the power to shape how the world sees Indigenous art and culture.

But with that power comes responsibility - to ensure that representation is inclusive, consultation is genuine, and the most significant works and voices are honoured.

We don’t raise these questions to divide or criticise for the sake of it. We raise them because we believe constructive critique is essential if we want to grow as an industry and do justice to the legacies we are privileged to present.

Members of the Kate Owen Gallery team will be visiting the Tate show, and will share their personal reflections on the exhibition in the next article in this series. If you happen to be visiting the Tate Modern and see the show for yourself, we’d love to hear your thoughts too. Feel free to reach out at hello@kateowengallery.com. 

When Indigenous artist Harold Thomas raised his Aboriginal Flag design in 1971 at a land rights rally in Victoria Square, Adelaide, on then-National Aborigines Day, it immediately resonated with Australia’s First Nations people. And every time over the past 50 years it has flown, it has grown in significance and meaning.

Learn More About the Aboriginal Flag

 

Artwork by Sarrita King

When copyright issues restricting its use became known to current Minister for Indigenous Australians, Ken Wyatt AM, it began a lengthy consultation process to support Mr Thomas to maintain the integrity of the flag and allow freer use.

On the 25th of January 2022, it was announced that the Aboriginal Flag copyright had been transferred to the Commonwealth. The Australian government paid $20.05 million to Mr Thomas and licence holders to extinguish most of the licences and secure copyright.

A commercial company will keep its exclusive licence to be able to manufacture Aboriginal flags for global commercial use, but the government said the company would not stop people from making their own flags for personal use.

Gadigal Artist and former Aboriginal Art Association of Australia board member Kate Constantine gave evidence at the Senate Enquiry leading to this outcome. She said “it was extremely important for me to be part of this discussion. Our flag holds so much value for the Aboriginal people, one of strength, power and love, it’s a national shame that the copyright for the flag itself wasn’t considered in 1995 when it was ratified as an official flag of the nation by the Commonwealth.

"This has caused much pain, heartache and divisiveness within our community. I am hopeful that this outcome allows our people to again be proud of our flag, and I would also like to think that this payout represents to Aboriginal artists a benchmark for the fair payment and treatment of their artworks copyright.”

So how did they come to the amount of $20.05 million? In an opinion piece Mr Wyatt explains that they had to discharge the three existing licence arrangements. This included estimating the potential revenue over the life of the contracts and reaching agreements with the licensees on appropriate compensation for them giving up their exclusive rights. The intrinsic value of the Flag also had to be considered. No small feat I’m sure!

Mr Thomas has said he hoped Australians would use the flag with respect and pride. “I am grateful that my art is appreciated by so many, and that it has come to represent something so powerful to so many.

“The Flag represents the timeless history of our land and our people’s time on it. It is an introspection and appreciation of who we are. It draws from the history of our ancestors, our land, and our identity and will honour these well into the future.”

With this news, it certainly is a symbol that can now be celebrated and shared by all Australians– growing in strength and meaning for generations to come.

 

What an incredible start to the year it has been for the KOG Crew. Here's a summary of 2019 so far;

exhibitions and artist in residence programs

So far we've held two exhibitions in our 'defining tradition' series, with more planned later in the year and extending in to the 2020 exhibition schedule. This weekend will be the official launch of our exhibition seven sisters where artists Andrea Adamson, Athena Nangala Granites and Gabriella Possum Nungurrayi depict the epic Aboriginal Dreamtime story of an Ancestral Being in the guise of a man - who relentlessly pursues seven sisters (Ancestral Women) over land and sky. It is a tale of lust, love, passion and danger. We are hanging the exhibition this week and it is a cracking selection of works - this exhibition is a must-see! Follow the links below to find out more about our past and current exhibitions.

• defining tradition | the first wave & its disciples
• defining tradition | the colourists
• seven sisters 

We know our artist in residence program is hugely popular and we are planning to have another one this year, but please be advised that many of the artists we represent have great family and cultural responsibilities meaning plans can change at a moments notice. To stay up to date with the latest news on our artist in residence programs, sign up to our mailing list.

What other exhibitions do we have in store for 2019? Well, we like to keep it a surprise! But if you're a fan of Barbara Weir, Karen Napaltjarri Barnes, Helen McCarthy or just love black and white artworks - watch this space! We'll have some exciting news for you shortly.

artist awards & recognition

A big CONGRATULATIONS to Lockhart River artist Fiona Omeenyo who is a finalist in this years Montalto Sculpture Prize! Fiona's work has been widely exhibited in Australian galleries since winning her first art award in 2001. She has had 15 solo exhibitions and over 40 group exhibitions, as well as being represented in many private and public collections including the National Gallery of Victoria and QUT Art Museum. View Fiona's latest body of work here

We also send our CONGRATULATIONS to Helen McCarthy Tyalmuty - selected as a finalist in the 2019 Calleen Art Award! The acquisitive painting prize is held at the Cowra Regional Art Gallery each year. The winner is announced on Saturday 4 May.

Helen McCarthy Tyalmuty 'Marrawuk (Start of the Wet)' - HMCG0112A  119 x 200cm

Already winner of the Peoples Choice Award at the 2007 Telstra National Aboriginal & Torres Strait Islander Art Award, in 2017 Helen appeared as a finalist in prestigious art prizes such as the Paddington Art Prize, the Georges River Art Prize, and was awarded the Inaugural Margaret Olley Art Award at the Mosman Art Prize. Over the last eighteen months Helen has spent time in Alice Springs, Darwin, Daly River and Sydney, with 2019 promising to be another exciting year of creative output.

gallery awards & recognition

The KOG Crew are still buzzing after being named Champion Specialised Retail Small Business for 2019 at The Australian Small Business Champion Gala Dinner and Awards Ceremony held on Saturday 6 April with over 1,100 guests in attendance. Daniel, Surrey and Liz were in attendance and received an award statuette, certificate and gained national recognition as an industry leader. Here at Kate Owen Gallery, we couldn’t do what we do without the incredible artists who choose to bless us with their art and our wonderful clients, so a big heartfelt THANK YOU!

We've also just received the news that our loyal clients have voted for us in the 2019 Inner West Local Business Awards and we have been named as a FINALIST! Our sincere thanks for your loyalty and support over the years. 2019 is certainly turning out to be an exciting year for Kate Owen Gallery!