10 Questions: Gail Mabo, visual artist, 48

GAIL Mabo on her work as a visual artist and on the influence of her indigenous activist parents, Eddie and Bonita Mabo.

Gail Mabo

YOUR father Eddie led a decade-long court battle to establish indigenous claims to land, overturning the concept of terra nullius. Were you aware of it?

I remember him coming home saying he was going to stand up and fight for land rights. We were young and didn't understand what it was about. Later he would sit on the back veranda of our house with me and cry. How do you console your dad when he cries? He said people were trying to discredit him.

You talk about him and your mother Bonita in an episode of the coming interview series In the Frame. What did their fiery but devoted relationship teach you?

That love is something you work at and you have to take the good, the bad and the ugly, no matter what. You have to keep talking; once you shut up shop, everything stops.

You're one of 10 children they raised. Can you describe your relationship with Eddie?

It was really good. He was open and honest. We knew where we stood; he let me do my own thing. I admire that about Dad; he gave us room to grow. That's how I deal with my own children.

You attended the first school for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders in Townsville, opened by your father in the 1970s. What motivated him?

He wanted to ground us in the sense of knowing who we were before we entered mainstream schooling so that we didn't fall through the cracks. Having that sense of culture and belonging gave us the strength to walk over the cracks and keep going.

How did your relationship with him shape you as an artist?

When I was young he said to go and be a teacher and I said, "I've done enough schooling." I got accepted at the Aboriginal and Torres Straight Dance Theatre. I put the letter down on the table for Mum and Dad. They stopped talking and they cried. He said he'd better give me his blessing. I did a little happy dance.

After Eddie died in 1992, just months before the High Court's Mabo Decision, did you feel you had to follow in his footsteps?

He gave me the responsibility to do things my own way. The upholding of cultural values, the sense of place and pride, all of the things he instilled in us you can pass on. Our family came from a strong background, from generations who fought for what we believe in. I have to walk proudly. I watched, I learned and I listened.

How much influence does Bonita have on you?

A lot. I spend a lot of time with her. She's rediscovering her own family. It does my head in - there's a whole other mob I have to learn about. I encourage her to follow her dreams because she did that with us. We have to be there for her.

Have you been able to separate your identity as an artist from being part of the Mabo family?

I think it will always be entwined because I was born into a clan and with that comes my dad's legacy, which is bigger than anyone. But you've got to go your own way. I paint for myself.

You're also part of the Song Nation project, which tours indigenous communities. What is your role?

We do hip hop music with the kids and we get the kids and the young adults to write the songs and they go on YouTube. I make sure the cultural protocols are followed when we're on the land.

Can you recall the best piece of advice your father gave you?

If you do something wrong you're the one who has to bear what it is. Do your best and if you want to sleep at night, be true to yourself.

In the Frame starts December 1 on NITV