As part of BREEZE, PICA’s collaborative exchange program with Rumata’ Artspace and Universitas Negeri Makassar, Makassar-based artist Aziziah Diah Aprilya undertook a residency in Boorloo (Perth), exploring the tamarind tree as a living archive of cultural exchange between Makassans and Australian First Nations peoples. Through research into plants, myths and shared histories that predate colonisation, Aprilya’s practice reflects on centuries of maritime trade and ecological connection between South Sulawesi and coastal Australia.
In this conversation, she speaks with artist Kristen Brownfield about her residency at PICA, her artistic process and the enduring entanglements of place, memory and exchange that continue to shape these relationships.
[Kristen Brownfield] Aziziah Diah Aprilya is a photographer, writer and cultural practitioner based in Makassar, South Sulawesi. She recently published her first photo book, Got Your Back? published by SOKONG! in 2024. The book reflects on themes of home, generations, change, burdens and the relationships that connect them. Her work also explores environmental, sociopolitical and women’s issues. It has been exhibited in various cities across Indonesia. Aziziah, you began your residency by exploring the tamarind tree as a symbol of cultural exchange and connections between Australians and the Makassarese. Before colonisation, there was trading and sharing of all sorts of things, resources, food, tools and language. Do you want to share about the significance of the tamarind tree specifically, and why you were drawn to this plant to explore these histories?
[Aziziah Aprilya] When I first read about the history of Makassar’s connection with First Nations Australians, most of the stories focused on the greatness of the Makassarese sailors. The focus was always about their ability to reach Australia, the boats they sailed and the sea trade between the Makassarese and First Nations people. The stories always felt very heroic to me. These are important parts of history, but I was drawn to the less significant story of the presence of the tamarind tree and how it appeared in the Northern Territory. I began to wonder; how could we understand this significant history between Makassar and Australia through the story of a tree? What interested me the most was that the tamarind tree arrived in Australia with no intention, it was accidental. Today it is seen as an archaeological trace of Makassar’s presence in Australia. During the trade era, Makassar people brought tamarind as part of their food supply, and once they were in Australia, they discarded their waste and from that waste, the tamarind trees grew. For me, the tamarind tree is not just a tree. It is a living archive that carries memory and history because it’s not a history you can read in a book. It’s not locked in a museum, it’s out there and it’s alive.
[KB] There’s a lot in there. How have you been exploring the tamarind trade during the residency? You’ve obviously been taking photos and walking the streets of Boorloo. Do you want to share a bit about what your process has been in investigating the tamarind tree here?
[AA] This has been both interesting and challenging, because Perth hasn’t been recorded as part of the Makassan sailing routes. It was considered too far away. So there are no tamarind trees here as archaeological evidence. The purpose of the residency was to seek new meanings between Australia and Makassar beyond the landscape. I’m not trying to find historical tamarind trees but rather I’m trying to find new meanings through the tree. I was fortunate as some other artists-in-residence here at PICA are working on gardens and community stories. They are called Meet Me in the Garden and they connected me to Cyrus who runs a nursery called Primal Fruit. I went to see his beautiful garden and spoke to him about his love of the tamarind tree. I also met Harry Cunningham. He’s a photographer, and his father used to be an ethnobotanist in Indonesia. He accidentally brought some seeds through customs once and donated them to a community garden near his house. Now, there’s a very beautiful tamarind tree growing there. The only other tamarind trees I have found here are at the Perth Zoo. There are two tamarind trees located in the African area of the zoo. They are more than a decade old. When I visited, the lions were resting beneath the trees, sheltering under their leaves. It made me a bit sad because both the lions and the trees are inside the cage. This became the start of the conversations here. It made me reflect on the use of the tamarind tree in Makassar, a place for people to gather. In the Northern Territory tamarind might be a historical marker, but here in Perth, my tamarind tree has become a gateway, an opening to new connections.
[KB] That leads into my next question. How has your residency broadened out not just looking at the tamarind tree, but also thinking more broadly about how we relate to the environment and to trees in general? How did that shift come about, and what new ideas did it open for your project here?
[AA] At first, I was just looking for the tamarind tree and in doing this I started noticing other plants and trees. It made me ask more questions about our connection as humans with the plants around us. In Indonesia, especially in Makassar, city development prioritises humans. Animals and plants are not really part of the conversation when shaping our landscape. In Buginese terms, we call our whole body Batang Kale, translating to “the trunk of a body”. And kale also translates to ‘tree trunk’. I always imagine that we carry a forest in our body. That kind of perspective draws me to ask more about our relationship as human beings with plants and nature – especially in the middle of a city. Many of the pictures I’ve taken in Perth are about trying to find those kinds of connections. From my experience, it’s a complicated relationship between us humans and plants. I believe that in the past, trees had more agency; they carried stories and their own histories. Now, in cities, they’re often used as decorative objects. That’s like how we treat some communities: we put them into categories and boxes. In some parts of the world, history is formed through oral traditions, so the stories are not static. It spreads but still has a strong root to carry all the meanings. For me, that is like a tree. And if you want to learn, you need to listen and notice things.
[KB] Did you want to share some of the research you’ve been doing?
[AA] I found a book about the Tree Society, which was formed in 1958 by a group of women. I also met Noongar Elder Sandra Harben, and she told me a beautiful story about the Moodjar tree and its significance for Noongar women, who gather and perform rituals under it. It’s quite similar to the tamarind tree. Honestly, I’ve been overwhelmed by how many articles and archival materials I’ve read in just one month. I’ve realised that in all my work, there’s a focus on women, plants, animals and non-human perspectives. I really hope I can continue this project.
[KB] You just mentioned in your past projects you looked at the resilience of women in the face of environmental and systemic change. Is that something that has come up again for you during this residency?
[AA] Yes. When I first arrived, I was connected with the First Nations community especially through the meeting with Sandra Harben. She shared her perspective on the landscape, and I shared mine about the tamarind, which she hadn’t heard before. Something I realised is that I’m very new to Australian culture. My body still needs to adapt to these new things and this new knowledge. But I hope to continue this conversation.
[KB] What’s next for you?
[AA] The plan was to create a photo documentary and turn it into a children’s book. I always imagined a children’s book with photographs as the illustrations. From this residency, I want to one day trace the actual tamarind trees in the Northern Territory. I also want to know what these trees mean for the people who live close to them, especially First Nations communities, because I’ve done so much research about the tamarind in South Sulawesi. It has made me think about how my ancestors brought the tamarind here. And now I have the chance to trace their story.
Images: Aziziah Diah Aprilya Open Studios 2025, Perth Institute of Contemporary Arts (PICA). Photo: Daniel James Grant.
