‘It is quite parochial in Australia’: how Brook Andrew’s charted a course to the top of the art world

This ‘sensitive young boy’ from the rough and tumble world of 1970s western Sydney grew up to become an internationally-acclaimed contemporary artist. How did he get there?

Brook Andrew. Picture: Zan Wimberley

How did huge success very early in your career with works such as White Word 1 (1993) and Sexy and Dangerous (1996) – described on the Museum of Contemporary Art’s website as “a now iconic image of Aboriginal virility and resistance” – affect you? When you’re an artist and you’re young, no one shows you the ropes, right? I struggled a little bit with that, to tell the truth. I was learning as I was going, stumbling through. I’ve never focused on “success”, I’ve focused on what was important for my expression. At the time, I was frustrated a little bit with the art world, and the kind of pigeon-holing … “Oh, are you gay?“ “Are you Indigenous?”

As it happens, those aspects do constitute parts of your identity. Did you grow up hearing Indigenous language? Like most Indigenous families, words would pop up every now and then. One of my aunties used to use the word dyilawa, which means getting to the toilet. Language was one of the first big devices I used in my work to look at perceptions, to look at how Indigenous people are viewed. It can be such a powerful tool for directing, or redirecting, ideas.

In 2020, you were the Artistic Director of the Biennale of Sydney. How was that experience? It was probably one of the best experiences I’ve ever had in my life creatively because I’m a collaborator, and I loved working with communities. I love the kind of energy that surrounds people who engage with ideas that are not necessarily part of the mainstream art world. And I say that deliberately, because we know that the mainstream art world often has a very western-focused view of what creativity is.

Sexy and Dangerous (1996).

So is it by accident or by design that you’re not more of a household name in Australian culture? I don’t know, I just get on with it. I guess I’ve never been interested in fame. My barometer is my niece – she’s 17 now, and she did an assignment on me, but that’s because it’s in the curriculum! Here and in Brazil actually. But I don’t go around talking about that. I suppose I post a bit on Instagram. Even when I talk to Mum and Dad, they’ll ask, “What are you doing?” And I’ll tell them and it’s like, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Then again, you’re more well-known overseas … I’ve always shown consistently in the European scene and I think people are quite surprised about that. It is quite parochial in Australia. I think people find it difficult to look beyond our shores, whether it be in art or science or sports.

You work in video, sculpture, photography and all kinds of immersive art. Do you have a comfort zone? Art has been always about finding the right space and place for my ideas. I would have dreams very vividly about making works in, you know, ceramics that included a television. It’s about the idea, and how to communicate it. Sometimes a drawing might communicate it better.

Before pursuing art you pursued a fledgling career in marine biology. Why did you chuck it in? It took me a few goes to get to art, and I think it’s because quite frankly, as a sensitive young boy, all I wanted was to get out of western Sydney. It was actually my parents always saying, “Why aren’t you doing art? You’re doing the wrong thing!”

Brook Andrew will be exhibiting at Sydney Contemporary, to be held at Carriageworks, from September 5 to 8