Flora. The Australian Ballet & Bangarra Dance Theatre

8 April 2026 (matinee). Joan Sutherland Theatre, Sydney Opera House.

Almost 20 years ago, in October 1997, Bangarra Dance Theatre and the Australian Ballet collaborated on a production, Rites, choreographed by Stephen Page, then artistic director of Bangarra. It was a landmark event and the work has since been restaged and has toured and been the subject of a major exhibition in Melbourne. Flora, choreographed by current director of Bangarra, Frances Rings, follows that collaborative tradition.

Flora, in typical Bangarra style, consists of several sections (in this case 12) making up a storyline. The storyline focuses in this case on the evolution of Australian flora beginning with ‘Mother Seed’ and moving eventually to ‘Bush Flowers’. Early moments show bodies representing seeds or young plants entering the earth (stage) from above. As the work continues various moments in the progress of growth are presented.

Artists of Bangarra Dance Theatre and the Australian Ballet in an early scene from *Flora*, 2026. Photo: © Kate Longley

For me the highlight of the work was the section that opened Act II. Called ‘10 Days’, it represented the actions of Sir Joseph Banks who, while in Australia in the early years of British colonisation, removed hundreds of species of Indigenous plants from their natural environment and took them back to England. The program notes state, ‘The collection of species and objects to display in museums reduces First Nations People and cultures to artifact status.’

The removal of native species by Sir Joseph Banks. *Flora*, Bangarra Dance Theatre and the Australian Ballet, 2026. Photo: © Daniel Boud.

Both the set (Elizabeth Gadsby) and costumes (Grace Lillian Lee) for this section were exceptional and, in addition, it was at this stage that political elements surfaced strongly. I am not sure, however, that the reference to the removal of the notion of ‘Aboriginal people’ from the official (political) understanding of the Australian community (as unbelievable as that policy was) needed to be so stark and loudly presented. But then Rings usually makes no bones about her determination to make a political statement through her works.

The final section ‘Bush Flowers’ was another highlight, largely (once more) as a result of Grace Lillian Lee’s totally spectacular costumes. But I did wonder, given their emphasis on extensive detail, if they were difficult to move around in, but the dancers performed effortlessly.

Bush flowers from the final section of *Flora*. Bangarra Dance Theatre and the Australian Ballet, 2026. Photo: © Daniel Boud.

Although there was much to admire in Flora, especially from a visual point of view and from the accompanying score composed by William Barton, the choreography did not move me. While the movement was always fluid and made excellent use of the space of the stage (on, around and above it), the movement itself often seemed without any reference to the actions it was accompanying. If the online descriptive analysis had not been written (and read) would we have had much of an idea, especially in the early sections, about what was taking place?

Very recently I read a book called Diaghilev. Creator of the Ballets Russes, which I had not seen before. Edited by Ann Kodicek, it contained articles by several authors, including one by Irina Vershinina on the music Diaghilev chose for the works he commissioned. In that article I read a comment from designer Léon Bakst in which he said, ‘Our dances, our settings, our costumes—they are all so exciting because they reflect that most elusive and secret thing—the rhythm of life.’ I really wish I had read the comment (and the book) before I saw Flora. The concept of ‘the rhythm of life’ would perhaps have allowed me to see Rings’ choreography in a different light rather than with the frustration that kept rising in my mind.

Michelle Potter, 12 April 2026

Featured image: A scene from Flora. The Australian Ballet and Bangarra Dance Theatre, 2026. Photo: © Kate Longley

I watched this performance as a member of the general public. I paid $207 for my ticket.

Illume. Bangarra Dance Theatre—a second look

25 July 2025. Canberra Theatre Centre

it is an interesting experience watching Illumine for a second time in a different venue and from a different location in the theatre. In Sydney in June my view of the production was from the mid section of the stalls of the Joan Sutherland Theatre. My review of that show is at this link. In Canberra I was in the second row of the stalls. I was practically onstage!

Probably the most intriguing aspect of being so close to the action was not the action itself but the power of the visual aspects of the production. In particular Elizabeth Gadsby’s costumes were quite stunning, especially the white-ish outfits worn towards the end of the production. It was not easy to see Gadsby’s intricacies of patterning from a distance but from my seat in Canberra the costumes were just beautiful to look at. I was also taken in Canberra by the extent of body make-up worn by the dancers, which changed constantly in colour and pattern, and also in the parts of the body on which the make-up was worn. The lighting and various stage effects were also engrossing from close up.

It was also good to see close up the facial expressions of the dancers, which again were not so obvious from the middle to back of the stalls. It gave me a clue to the meaning behind the section with the red boxes that I really didn’t understand all that clearly previously. Given the anxiety on the faces of the dancers I assume now that the section, in which those red boxes were moved back and forth and assembled in different combinations, represented the often-destructive nature of colonisation for First Nations peoples.

In terms of choreography, however, it was easier and more fulfilling to watch from a little further back. Dance is a collaborative art form and the collaborative elements in Illume were very powerful. But in the end, at least in my opinion, the choreography should not be overtaken by aspects of collaboration, which seemed to be happening in this production. And it really shouldn’t matter where one is seated. The choreography matters and is the most significant aspect of a dance production.

Following the Canberra season, as I continued to think about the various aspects of the production, I searched for the meaning of the word ‘Illume’ even though its meaning seemed obvious on one level. But I was not surprised to learn that the word is not in common usage today. The OED says it is used just 0.03 times ‘per million words in modern written English.’ Why title the work with such an obsolete word? Its antonym, or one of them, is put forward as ‘confuse’!

Illume is not an easy production to watch, or understand, or both. It covers several diverse aspects of the life history of the First Nations people of the Dampier Peninsula in Western Australia, but it is just not clear cut as a dance production. The concepts being put before the audience are discussed in the printed program and in Canberra those concepts were also presented in the foyer in a visually powerful and clearly understandable display (the presence of which I didn’t notice in Sydney). But despite displays and written program notes, a dance production should not have to rely strongly on written explanations to give the viewer a clear idea of what a production entails. Such things should be just an addition.

Illume would make a terrific exhibition but as an onstage production it is not Bangarra’s strongest or most illuminating show.

Michelle Potter, 29 July 2025.

Featured image: Dancers of Bangarra Dance Theatre in a section from Illume, 2025 Photo: © Daniel Boud

Illume. Bangarra Dance Theatre

4 June 2025. Joan Sutherland Theatre, Sydney Opera House

Bangarra’s latest production is nothing short of a visual feast with its lighting design from Damien Cooper standing out in an exceptional way. In particular, the starry opening scene, which extended from the stage up and out to the ceiling and walls of the Joan Sutherland Theatre, and the closing scenes where the colour scheme became more varied, stood out.

A moment towards the end of *Illume*. Bangarra Dance Theatre, 2025. Photo: © Daniel Boud

What also stood out was that Illume seemed more abstract than most of Bangarra’s previous productions. Although Frances Rings, in her onstage welcome speech before the curtain went up, gave us some clues as to content, it was not always easy to situate the work within a storyline. While a storyline is not necessarily needed, the production was advertised as referring to aspects of the history and nature of a particular First Nations group from the Dampier Peninsula in Western Australia, which I mentioned in my Dance Diary post for May. (In which I also mention the role of Darrell Sibosado as artistic and cultural collaborator).

In addition to the opening speech from Rings, reading through the program for Illume some visual aspects of the production made more sense in that writing than was clear simply from their onstage appearance. The red glove that unexpectedly appeared on some dancers’ arms at various time referred, I assumed, to the ‘deep red of the pindan soil’ of the area, as did other red elements that appeared on and off, including as part of the lighting design. Perhaps? And similarly, the structures that made up the basis of Charles Davis’ set perhaps referred to the manawan trees with their blackened trunks, mentioned by Rings and in the program.

Courtney Radford (centre) and Bangarra Dancers in *Illume*. Bangarra Dance Theatre, 2025. Photo: © Daniel Boud

As part of the lighting design, and appearing in unexpected places, there were also words arranged in geometric-styles, which I didn’t quite understand. Were they some kind of totemic aspect of the culture perhaps? It would have been advantageous if cultural aspects that were part of the concept behind the show were easier to identify from the production itself rather than largely from the spoken or written word. Or not at all.

Geometric patterns in Illume. Bangarra Dance Theatre, 2025. Photo: © Daniel Boud

Choreographically, Rings as usual used groupings of dancers to particular effect and the dancers, many of whom are relative newcomers to the company, performed with extraordinary skill.

A grouping of dancers in *Illume*. Bangarra Dance Theatre, 2025. Photo: © Daniel Boud

Another highlight was the way in which the work was a multi-media production in which choreography and design worked smoothly together (even if I didn’t always understand what concepts were being presented).

Costumes from Elizabeth Gadsby were varied, sometimes plain in design and colour, sometimes more intricate, but always arresting. Music was composed by Brendon Boney.

Courtney Radford in a moment from *Illume*. Bangarra Dance Theatre, 2025. Photo: © Daniel Boud

There are many other aspects of Illume that I haven’t mentioned but which also caused queries to keep surfacing. Those red boxes that the dancers manipulated at one stage. And other things … I would have loved to have left the theatre with a clearer idea of what was happening. But what a thrill it always is to see dancers performing with the skill and commitment of those who make up Bangarra Dance Theatre.

Michelle Potter, 5 June 2025

Featured image: A moment from Illume showing a little of the starry element of Damien Cooper’s lighting design. Bangarra Dance Theatre, 2025. Photo: © Daniel Boud

As a postscript I have to say that Daniel Boud’s images are spectacular given the speed and changing nature of the choreography and the variety of multi-media inclusions.

Daniel Mateo in a moment from *Illume*. Bangarra Dance Theatre, 2025. Photo: © Daniel Boud

Horizon. Bangarra Dance Theatre. A second look

18 July 2024. Bangarra Dance Theatre, Canberra Theatre.

In Canberra I had a rather different view of the production of Bangarra’s Horizon from the one I had in Sydney back in June. When I arrived at the Canberra Theatre to collect my tickets there was only one ticket in the envelope , despite the fact that I had officially been allocated two and did in fact have a guest with me. I was reallocated seats and ended up in row W very much on the side—not a position where critics usually sit! But in fact it gave me an interesting view of some aspects of the show, in particular a good view of the overall picture that was being presented, which gave added strength to some of the visual elements. While I much prefer to be a little closer, and hope the Canberra Theatre Centre can manage to get things right next time, all was not lost.

My review of the Canberra opening of Horizon was published online by Canberra’s City News and can be accessed at this link. Below is a slight enlarged version of that text.

Horizon is Bangarra Dance Theatre’s first mainstage, international collaborative initiative. It centres on aspects of Australian and Aotearoa New Zealand dance practice as those aspects reflect traditional society and culture.

The major part of the show is The Light Inside, a work in two sections. The first, ‘Gur Adabad/Salt Water’, is choreographed by former Bangarra dancer, Deborah Brown, whose family connections are in the Torres Strait Islands. The second is ‘Wai Māori/Fresh Water’, created by choreographer and director of Auckland’s New Zealand Dance Company, Moss Patterson, who grew up in the area around Lake Taupo on the North Island of Aotearoa New Zealand. The Light Inside is preceded by Kulka, a short work by Sani Townson, former Bangarra dancer and now Youth Programs Coordinator with the company.

The focus of Kulka is nighttime with emphasis on the fact that much of Torres Strait Islander society abounds in traditional songs and dances about constellations that guide the totems and clans in the society. A leading role was taken by Kassidy Waters while a highlight was a trio danced by Lucy May, Bradley Smith and Kallum Goolagong, which centred on the role of the Crocodile God in Townson’s clan. A feature of Horizon was a projection that acted as a kind of backcloth and mirrored the performers as they danced. Kulka introduced us to this mirror-like effect, which was continued, although slightly differently, during The Light Inside.

(left) scene from *Kulka* showing the mirroring technique above the dancers; (right) scene from *The Light Inside* showing the mirroring technique below the dancers as if they are dancing in water. Bangarra Dance Theatre, 2024. Photo: © Daniel Boud

Deborah Brown’s ‘Gur Adabad/Salt Water’ focuses on the relationship between Torres Strait Islander communities and the sea. An exceptional introduction to the work came from Daniel Mateo. It looked back to the work of a 19th century anthropologist as he recorded aspects of Torres Strait Islander culture on wax cylinders. Another highlight was ‘Blue Star’, an exceptionally performed solo by Lillian Banks telling of a seasonal change when moisture in the air makes the stars turn blue and twinkle, which becomes a guide for the seafaring peoples of the region.

The standout work on the program, however, was ‘Wai Māori/Fresh Water’, Moss Patterson’s section of The Light Inside. I first saw this work in Sydney at its world premiere in June. Then I couldn’t stop thinking about the relationship this new work had with the Māori haka. I was repeatedly reminded of football matches between Australia and New Zealand that are inevitably preceded by a haka. But the Canberra show seemed very different. After a month of performances in Sydney, the dancers had clearly absorbed the powerful and individualistic nature of Patterson’s choreography. The work was intensely moving and dramatic. Those qualities were clearly transmitted through the bodies of the dancers. They were proud. They were aggressive. They were strong and determined as they took their place in the world. Football memories were gone.

The work ended in a quieter fashion with the ensemble dancing to suggest peace and communication. But the strength and power of Patterson’s ‘Fresh Water’ remained and had clearly inspired the audience. Cheers rang out as the evening came to a close.

Horizon is an admirable undertaking and, as is usual with Bangarra productions, the collaborative elements were exceptional. Original scores were created by Steve Francis, Brendon Boney and Amy Flannery. Costume designs came from Jennifer Irwin and Clair Parker, set design from Elizabeth Gadsby, and lighting from Karen Norris.

Michelle Potter, 23 July 2024

Featured image: Kassidy Waters and dancers of Bangarra Dance Theatre in a moment from The Light Inside. Bangarra Dance Theatre, 2024. Photo: © Daniel Boud

Momenta. Sydney Dance Company

21 June 2024. The Playhouse, Canberra Theatre Centre

Below is a slightly enlarged version of my review of momenta, originally published online by Dance Australia on 24 June 2024. A link to the Dance Australia version is at this link.

The word momenta is the plural form of momentum, a word that means ‘the product of the mass and velocity of an object’. Momenta is also the title of the latest work from Rafael Bonachela, current artistic director of Sydney Dance Company, and there have been several explanations of why Bonachela titled the work as he did. Some are quite complex and don’t help much with understanding what Bonachela was considering as he created the work. But no matter how we might discuss the word, Bonachela’s work momenta was certainly filled with mass and velocity with the ‘objects’ being the extraordinary dancers who make up the current composition of Sydney Dance Company.

The work began with some remarkable unison dancing and this is an aspect of Bonachela’s choreography that I have admired over several decades. He has a gift for grouping dancers in constantly changing arrangements, and for giving those dancers such a varied selection of movement, poses and uses of space within a unison component. The opening section of momenta often had the dancers working on the floor and using their lifted legs as a focus, which initially seemed somewhat unusual as a component of Bonachela’s approach to unison work. But no matter how or where the dancers were positioned, they responded with an input that took the breath away.

Those opening moments set the scene for what followed and as momenta progressed the large groupings broke down into solos, duets, trios and other arrangements of performers until we reached the end sections when the unison work began again. Momenta was very much an abstract work for me, but it was compositionally varied within that overall abstraction and as such the choreography never lost its engrossing quality.

An absolute highlight was a duet between Naiara de Matos and Piran Scott, while the work of Emily Seymour also stood out. But it is quite astonishing to watch the flexibility, the fluidity, the energy and the absolute attention to the tiniest choreographic detail from every single dancer in the current company, many of whom are relatively new performers of Bonachela’s work.

Naiara de Matos and Piran Scott in a duet from *momenta*. Sydney Dance Company, 2024. Photo: © Pedro Greig

In terms of collaborative input, the highlight was the lighting from Damien Cooper. It was mostly relatively dark, although the colour of that darkness was not always the black we might have expected. As the work progressed, there were hints of dark green, sudden flashes of red, a burst of white cloud, at times a sudden brightness, and at others a mysterious hazy quality (especially, although not exclusively, when that white cloud began to dissipate). The lighting design was enhanced by the constant presence of a circular rig of 19 spotlights that moved up, down and around in the performing space and limited, at times, where the dancers could gather. The movement of the rig was beautifully controlled so that it appeared to be an essential part of the choreography.

The soundscape came from Nick Wales whose original, commissioned composition incorporated Distant Light by Latvian composer Pēteris Vasks. Costumes and set were by Elizabeth Gadsby with assistance from Emma White. The costumes were varied (a little) in style and colour but there was a minimalist quality to them in keeping with the overall abstract quality of the work. Their simplicity gave the dancers every opportunity to show that the focus of momenta was the body in motion.

The cast of *momenta*. Sydney Dance Company, 2024. Photo: © Pedro Greig

The work closed with showers of small pieces of sparkling cellophane falling onto the stage and out into the auditorium. I’m not sure why this happened and it was perhaps the one aspect of momenta that seemed entirely unnecessary. But momenta was such an absorbing production that this odd addition could just be pushed aside and basically forgotten.

The work is a huge credit to the underlying approach to contemporary dance that we have come to expect from Bonachela in his leadership of Sydney Dance Company.

Michelle Potter, 25 June 2024

Featured image: A solo section from momenta. Sydney Dance Company, 2024. Photo: © Pedro Greig

Postscript: There were some great production shots from momenta but they were not captioned with the names of dancers. Why? As a result I have limited myself to just three shots, one of which I was able to caption (hopefully correctly).

Horizon. Bangarra Dance Theatre

13 June 2024. Drama Theatre, Sydney Opera House

Below is my slightly enlarged review of Horizon, originally published online by Dance Australia on 17 June 2024. A link to the Dance Australia version is at this link.

Horizon is a collaborative venture focusing on selected dance customs and activities in Australia and Aotearoa New Zealand. It is Bangarra Dance Theatre’s first mainstage, international collaborative initiative, a momentous and admirable undertaking. But the production was not without some issues.

Horizon was officially described as a double bill but there were three works on the program. Two were linked by the overarching title, The Light Inside, with one by former Bangarra senior artist Deborah Brown, the other by Māori choreographer and director of Auckland’s New Zealand Dance Company, Moss Patterson. Despite the linking by title, each displayed a quite different approach, especially in a choreographic sense. I’m not really sure why the two weren’t thought of as separate works. The coupling seemed to me to be just a convenient and non-dance way of making an association between two works on the program.

Horizon opened with a short work, Kulka, by Sani Townson, former Bangarra dancer and now Youth Programs Coordinator with the company. His focus was on nighttime and the fact that his specific Torres Strait Island society abounds in traditional songs and dances about constellations. Those songs and dances are guides to the totems and clans that make up the culture of the society.

Nine dancers performed Kulka to a percussive score by Amy Flannery. A strong, dominant role was taken by dancer Kassidy Waters. The choreography for Kulka was, however, a little repetitive especially in the beginning when Waters was constantly held upside down and carried across the stage in this position. But Townson later developed some interesting groupings of dancers and introduced us to a feature of Horizon that was repeated throughout each of the works: the dancers were mirrored in a structure that acted as a kind of backcloth in the case of Kulka, or later in the show as reflections in a watery foreground.

Callum Goolang, Kassidy Waters and Daniel Mateo in *Kulka* from *Horizon*. Bangarra Dance Theatre, 2024. Photo: © Daniel Boud

Deborah Brown’s contribution to The Light Inside was subtitled Salt Water. Opening with a magnificent solo from Daniel Mateo, Salt Water was performed to a score by Steve Francis and Brendon Boney. Brown’s choreography was beautifully fluid, mesmerising even, with all the dancers contributing to what was an outstanding performance. A particular highlight was a solo by Lillian Banks called Blue Star. This section told of a seasonal change when moisture in the air makes the stars twinkle and turn blue. This change becomes a guide for the daily work of the seafaring peoples of the Torres Strait Islands. Banks gave a clarity to every moment of the choreography.

Moss Patterson’s contribution, also performed to the score by Francis and Boney, had the subtitle Fresh Water reflecting Patterson’s background growing up in the area around Lake Taupo on the North Island of Aotearoa New Zealand.

His choreography had overtones of the Māori haka and I couldn’t stop my mind moving out of the theatre to football matches between Australia and New Zealand, which inevitably contain a haka at the start of the match. But the work ended in a quieter fashion with the full ensemble dancing to suggest peace, with final moments proposing the meeting of salt and fresh water.

As is always the case with Bangarra productions, there were elements beyond the choreography that were standouts. In particular the costume designs by Clair Parker for Kulka and Jennifer Irwin for The Light Inside, were exceptional. At one stage Irwin’s costumes for Salt Water featured extended sleeves and similar additions to other parts of the costumes. These additions were manipulated by the dancers so that choreography and costume moved as extensions of each other.

Emily Flannery, Maddison Paluch and Courtney Redford in a scene from *Salt Water* in *The Light Inside*. Bangarra Dance Theatre, 2024. Photo: © Daniel Boud

It is unfortunate, however, that the lighting design by Karen Norris was quite dark for much of the time, and the beautifully decorative elements of the costumes were only really clear via production images. Elizabeth Gadsby’s set design made quite clear the concept of the horizon around which the works were developed.

The evening was quite different from what we have been used to watching from Bangarra. ‘Quite different’ because the usual narrative-style approach we so often associate with works from Bangarra was missing, or at least the works were based on much more abstract ideas than has usually been the case. Hope and light across and within cultures, with water also a feature, were the themes I extracted from the production.

Michelle Potter, 17 June 2024

Yuldea. Bangarra Dance Theatre

20 July 2023. Canberra Theatre, Canberra Theatre Centre

With Yuldea, Bangarra Dance Theatre’s first production under the artistic directorship of Frances Rings, the company continues to present work that examines the experiences that Australia’s First Nations people have lived through. As Rings has written in the ‘Welcome’ section of the Yuldea program, ‘Yuldea reflects the truth-telling of the Indigenous experience in Australia and reminds us that there are two stories to the making of this country.’ The ‘two stories’ angle has been an outstanding feature of Bangarra productions since its inception and has contributed to the admiration audiences have had for the company over the years.

Yuldea is in four parts, ‘Supernova’, ‘Kapi (Water)’, ‘Empire’ and ‘Ooldea Spirit’. It tells the story of the Aṉangu people of the Great Victorian Desert and the Nunga of the Far West Region of South Australia. It focuses especially on the traditional cultural activities of the people of the regions, on the effects of colonisation including the building of the Trans-Australian Railway, and on the ability of traditional culture to survive. The title of the work, Yuldea, refers to a ‘soak’ or waterhole seen as an ‘epicentre of traditional life’.

Scene from ‘Empire’ in *Yuldea* referencing the building of the Trans-Australian Railway. Bangarra Dance Theatre, 2023. Photo: © Kate Longley

Choreographically, Yuldea presented the Bangarra style that has become familiar over the course of the company’s existence—the grounded movement, the turned up feet with legs bent sharply from the knee, tightly structured and strongly held group poses, bodies held upside down or at unusual angles in partnering moves, and so forth. But there were times in Yuldea when I was struck by the existence of moments that seemed based on ballet, both in some less grounded movement and recognisable balletic steps, and in the way the movement was structured in groupings that were less random in appearance and often performed in unison. It seemed a little like another version of the ‘two story’ angle.

Yuldea was beautifully danced by the whole company with a standout performance from Lillian Banks and Kallum Goolagong in an early duet.

Scene from *Yuldea*. Bangarra Dance Theatre, 2023. Photo: © Daniel Boud

Yuldea continued the collaborative style of production that has characterised Bangarra presentations for decades. Jennifer Irwin’s costumes were as stunning as ever. Her use of fabric and layering of material, and the cut of her costumes that allows the costume to move freely (as if performing its own dance) were there in spades, as was her admirable addition of decorative items, including feathers, to various parts of the costume.

In terms of set design, Elizabeth Gadsby gave us something different from what we have seen from former resident designer Jacob Nash, who has now moved on to other activities. For me, Gadsby’s set was akin to a kind of architectural minimalism. It consisted of a semi-circular arrangement of ‘ceiling’ to floor strips of material (not sure what they were actually made from) through which the dancers made entrances and exits, and a semi-circular white item that hung in the air in front of the strips of material. The semi-circular shape of both items perhaps represented the shape of a waterhole? I’m not sure. Perhaps the white structure was the serpent, the ‘Steel Snake’ of the railway? The set, especially the strips of material, might have played a functional role but for me the set as a whole lacked a certain artistic vision and the thrill that such vision gives to audiences.

Music came from Leon Rodgers, the recipient of the 2021 David Page Fellowship, and Electric Fields. Lighting was by Karen Norris and there was in-depth cultural consultation with a range of people and groups.

Like most productions from Bangarra, especially those made over the last decade or so, Yuldea is a complex work and asks us to continue to think about many aspects of Australian life. Bangarra will, I feel sure, continue to be one of Australia’s foremost dance companies as it moves ahead with Frances Rings as its artistic director.

Michelle Potter, 23 July 2023

Featured image: Lillian Banks and Kallum Goolagong in ‘Kapi (Water)’ from Yuldea. Bangarra Dance Theatre, 2023. Photo: © Kate Longley