Austronesian spirit was once perceived as a fixed set of regional or ethnic traits. Now, however, as regions and ethnic identities increasingly intersect and blend, the recognition and construction of these traits have become vital. Such traits can be diverse and evolving, incorporating attitudes that resist new norms, protect old values, or promote the mutual exchange of new ideas and values. Through various cultural and artistic exchanges, we bring together both traditional and contemporary perspectives on engaging with the world across the broader Austronesian regions. In Taiwan, we conduct a sort of experimental assembly, exploring how these qualities meet contemporary needs, how they are acknowledged, referenced, and further supplemented.

“In response, the call to artists has specifically invited works reflecting the human context, natural landscape, environmental issues, living memories, and distinctive qualities of Austronesia, including elements like the sea, migration, origins, anti-colonialism, adventure, sharing, nature philosophy, and collective well-being. ”These key themes reflect the evolving essence of Austronesian identity.

As a cultural observer, I arrived on October 8 in the evening to view the exhibition works, nearly complete due to a delayed schedule for artists’ access and setup following the typhoon. The next day, I conducted direct interviews with several artists, connecting with ljalje’elan・patadalj by video call before his departure to Spain. At the October 12 opening, artists provided brief presentations on their works, with two further artist panels held in the afternoon. Thereafter, I repeatedly studied the artworks, cross-examining messages within the artists’ creative concepts, official guidelines for the Austronesian International Arts Award, and my understanding of contemporary Taiwanese Indigenous art, culminating in this cultural observation.

Siyat Moses’s “Rhngun” is one of the notable works in the exhibition. With a Master’s from Taipei National University of the Arts, Siyat Moses’s work questions identity in the face of modernity and globalization, engaging themes like textiles, ethnicity, gender, and visual perception. Drawing on autobiographical elements to connect with viewers’ shared life experiences, he finds inspiration in the creation myths of the Seejiq people, using this as a conceptual entry point to explore the complexities and solutions to current Indigenous issues.

The piece has a multilayered structure. The outer layer features a large garment with outstretched sleeves like a welcoming gate. Symmetrical collages of body, face, and organ fragments are arrayed along a central axis, with a following image of two figures on a slope—an apparent reference to early anthropological studies. Behind this large garment, a dark red vulva extends downward from the garment’s collar, evoking ancient mythology. According to Seejiq creation stories, a male and female once emerged from a fissure in a phallic stone, leading to many descendants, symbolizing a unified origin without hierarchy.

Siyat Moses’s work invites viewers to delve into this mythological narrative, confronting current Indigenous issues through a layered approach that blurs personal, cultural, and mythological boundaries.

Behind this doorway-like structure resembling garments, there lies yet another similar installation. However, this time, it incorporates an array of reflective mirrors arranged in a pattern, displaying red marks on the surfaces—traces of bloodied body parts, faces, and flesh that appear gruesome and ferocious. Despite their symmetrical arrangement, these marks convey intense confrontation. Due to slight variations in the angles of the mirrors and the lack of reflection of the red imprints, a soft projection appears on the ground, creating an infinite overlay of two figures locked in intimate connection.

At the top of this mirror-layered garment is a vivid red diamond shape, symbolizing what the artist describes as “the eye of the colonizer.” When viewers step into the installation, their reflections also merge into this doubled image of intimacy. The artist has meticulously crafted a series of visual tools to challenge traditional taboos surrounding homosexuality or queerness. Through the lens of ancient mythology and the symbolic “colonizer’s eye” or “colonizer’s blade,” these taboos are deconstructed in a highly intelligent and eloquent manner. What is the “exit”? The ancestral myths tell one story, while contemporary Indigenous art narrates another.

ljalje’elan・patadalj “‘usavan ni ljalje’elan” (The Eager of ljalje’elan.)

With a degree in painting from the Taipei National University of the Arts, ljalje’elan aims to break through traditional visual representations of Indigenous identity, creating a contemporary image of the Indigenous individual while shaping their future. Recently, ljalje’elan has focused on exploring the identity dilemmas faced by young Indigenous people today, examining how traditional practices intersect with contemporary life while emphasizing sustainability concerning land, environment, community, and cultural heritage. Using his own image alongside iron pots, animal hides, and moon peach woven mats, he connects with traditional Paiwan cultural symbols across different periods, addressing the impact of cultural encounters and colonization on Indigenous communities and offering a forward-looking perspective.

Three deerskins hang on the wall above a triptych video installation. In the center, a large iron pot is ablaze with wood, while on either side, footage alternates of the artist dressed in a suit, navigating a mountain clearing, and encountering various visions that prompt different actions. In one scene, ljalje’elan walks swiftly within a circular space surrounded by moon peach mats, gradually shedding his suit until lying naked on the mat, reconnecting with it.

He places a deerskin on the mat and lies beside it, as if to feel the fate of the sika deer. He tries to smear pot soot onto the deerskin and wrap it around his own sculpture but does not succeed. Various intimate and transformative relationships emerge between the artist and the skin, including the dynamics of hunter and hunted and a reuniting with the natural world. The naked artist later carries the deerskin into an orchard, where the sika deer fades into the distant trees, symbolizing the end of one era and the beginning of another.

In front of the installation stands an altar, with wood burning in the large iron pot, emitting smoke that permeates the fur of a muntjac mounted on a rack, gesturing towards the three hanging sika deerskins. The deerskins symbolize both the hunted and Indigenous pride in hunting skills. However, to satisfy colonial demand, Indigenous hunters became complicit in the unlimited slaughter of sika deer for their skins under international capitalism.

On the other hand, the deer represents a being worthy of gratitude, reflecting the ongoing sacrifice of Indigenous peoples. Does the sika deer’s seasonal change in coat color signify another deeper message?

The artist applies the soot from the black smoke to his own body, a powerful attempt at restoration, while carrying the pot on his back, transforming into a slow-moving turtle or a self-deluding ostrich. Does Indigenous identity risk becoming a form of self-imposed limitation or a way to avoid confronting reality? By lying prone on the pot that represents the land, the artist achieves a union with the earth, using contemporary farming and other skills to embody a new synergy with the land. His statements and artwork resonate with a confident declaration of purpose.

Akac Orat “o lalan no oway ”(Becoming Human in Rattan)

This interactive work invites audience participation—a rattan vine extends through the screen, and upon pulling the vine, the video begins, depicting a scene of collective rattan harvesting. In Amis culture, rattan harvesting is a skill traditionally learned by men as part of the age hierarchy. Men typically bear the responsibility of ascending the mountains to gather rattan in groups; it is both an exhausting and joyous task, providing an opportunity to learn and build camaraderie. Mastering this challenging and intricate process is essential for a man to be regarded as a true adult in Amis society. The harvesting involves teamwork, with each member playing a role—some scout and give directions, others shout together to pull the rattan, and, when progress slows, they sing to lift morale. If the vine is snagged, they cut leaves or saw trees to clear the way. Once harvested, the rattan is rolled up and transported back home, accompanied by wild vegetables and wood.

This piece also reflects on the artist's personal journey over the past decade. Initially driven by a desire to learn rattan weaving from elders, Chen entered the forest, yet often found himself alone. Unlike traditional community life, there was no one to help or sing rattan harvesting songs with him in the mountains. The absence of these elements underscores the importance of cultural continuity for the Amis people, who regard the entire collaborative process of harvesting, weaving, and house-building as integral to becoming a man.

The video of this path and process symbolizes the artist’s transformation from student to mentor. The final rattan song echoes through the mountains as youth follow the path back to the village, carrying bundles of rattan to weave, build, and establish a life. The film’s simple but powerful narrative captures the disciplined labor and collective effort necessary to overcome challenges, a growth process that resonates deeply without needing words. Chen insists that this is not so much art as it is life.

Anguc Makaunamun " Faces of the lingerers "

Mounted on the wall is a frail, aged goat’s head with two pairs of eyes and an expression of sage-like sorrow. Flanking this head are ancient maps showing severed water sources. Below these maps are two distorted human heads with only one pair of lifeless, distorted eyes. At the center of the ritualistic space is a mystical beast, combining diverse animal and plant features. Its primary face resembles that of a sunlit feline mother but with subtle human expressions. Upon closer inspection, reptilian and insectoid facial textures emerge. This creature has three pairs of eyes, each adorned with rainbow-colored irises and multiple pupils, suggesting a natural ability to perceive the world from multiple perspectives.

The creature’s two pairs of ears receive various sound frequencies, and the intricate lines and holes on its face hint at additional sensory organs. Surrounding it are circular, dried leaves symbolizing its nobility and extending its sensory field. Sensitive to every rustle of leaves or faintest animal trace, this entity embodies a heightened attunement to seasonal shifts and environmental changes, symbolizing a connection with all things.

In front of the installation, a screen shows a dancer at a water source, wearing a similar mask. He observes and senses the energy as if the revitalizing flow of life force comes from her being. As a receiver, translator, healer, and sharer, she channels this energy, connecting with the previously depicted maps of disrupted water sources.

Through this hybrid head, Anguc Makaunamun explores animism and shamanism, drawing from his childhood encounters with the supernatural and his participation in the intercultural Kasavakan rituals. He observes the ritual interactions between humans and nature, deconstructing the forms of humans, animals, and plants to create new totemic symbols, establishing connections between humanity, the environment, and all living things. By engaging in transformative rituals, he reflects on new life perspectives, considering the coexistence of different cultures and species as we look toward a shared future.

Huang, Jing-Jhong “Where is the site of memory ”

This installation comprises three parts: a ground or water base, a dark night sky filled with stars and smoke above, and in between, the steel skeleton of a skyscraper hiding a massive, carbonized tree. The scene evokes a primordial moment of creation, suggesting the critical point when land emerged between the sea and sky. Yet, it quickly transitions to a cityscape, like a modern-day Tower of Babel, on the verge of collapse, where traces of nature have all but vanished.

The artist uses charcoal to evoke a post-fire silence, a visual memorial capturing the tension between humanity’s primitive natural origins and urban migration. In this work, the natural home has almost entirely disappeared, while the urban home is in a near-apocalyptic state.

By presenting such an extreme contrast, the artist questions whether it is only through these bleak scenarios that we might awaken to humanity’s self-destructive tendencies. The re-carbonization, or crystallization of these structures, acts as an apocalyptic monument, transforming the ruins of the city into a tangible, thought-provoking memory—a premonition of extinction and an urgent call to reconsider our path.

The ghostly skyline and thick smoke block out the clear sky and starlight, while shattered mirrors on the ground reflect the heavy clouds between earth and architecture. The deserted city serves as a somber reminder of vanishing memories, a monument warning of humanity’s perilous trajectory.

This piece subtly interacts with Austronesian values and lifestyles, suggesting that the ecological message woven into its fabric could become a deeper call for reflection. Small adjustments to its title or context might better convey this urgency, provoking audiences to contemplate the unsustainable path ahead.

Candice Jee “Tree on the Ground”
Born in Perth, Australia, the artist is of Hakka descent from Borneo, with ancestors who migrated to Malaysia’s Borneo region four generations ago. During her studies in Australia, she found art to be a space for embodying complex emotions and concepts that otherwise felt inexpressible. Her educational journey took her from Australia to Italy, then to Paris, France, and finally Germany, where she grappled with questions of belonging and identity.

In East Berlin, she encountered a Chinese garden built by a German filmmaker, a discovery that profoundly impacted her work and became the inspiration for a video and sculpture installation in 2014. The following year, she came to Taiwan to learn Chinese and researched her cultural heritage and its place within Asia at the Taiwan National University of the Arts, where she also explored the ambiguous notion of Chinese gardens within the context of Han Chinese migration. Her graduation exhibition featured a temporary garden installation made from recycled materials, clay, calligraphy and ink painting, plants, a compost system, video, and sound.

Candice’s materials include fabric, silks, ink paintings, and botanical impressions, combining exotic floral patterns with landscape-like compositions, some reminiscent of maps or Feng Shui charts. Her pieces range from architectural silhouettes and indoor symmetrical plaques to screen-like elements and loose clothing, even resembling intimate garments like doudu (Chinese traditional inner garments). Yet the overall ambiance remains garden-like. A few ink-painted ferns immediately transport viewers to a tropical forest, evoking a sense of grounded, natural life amid the broader themes of migration and identity. As a member of the Hakka community—often viewed as an outlier group—Candice’s heritage originates in Borneo, Malaysia, a region lush with primordial forests. She was raised in Perth, a city known as one of the world’s most livable, yet also a place rich in Aboriginal culture. Beginning her journey of cultural and self-identity exploration here, she found her path to be one of intricate discovery. Inspired by a Chinese garden created by a foreign director, her work moves through diverse media, intertwining and transforming to actively reconstruct and reinforce her cultural identity—a nuanced and evolving journey.

Apo' Kofid Talo  & Wang, Ting-Ting " Whitebaiting during waning crescent "

During high tides under a waning crescent, local Indigenous people traditionally used whitebait nets to catch fish fry near the mouth of the Siouguluan River. They saw these fish as a gift from nature, taking only what they needed. In earlier years, the tides yielded ample fish, but unsustainable fishing methods have since reduced the fish population dramatically. Adding to the challenge, an increase in oceanic plastic waste means much of what is caught today consists mostly of plastic debris, rather than fish.

Their work incorporates recycled materials, especially old fishing nets that have become ocean waste. The artists sorted through collected plastic waste, adding lively eyes to create fish-like creatures that resemble vibrant schools in the sea. When looking closely, the viewer may begin to question this "cute" depiction of sea debris, as the plastic remnants reveal themselves as fragmented fish corpses—a painful reminder of human impact on marine life.

Above the artwork is a large,waning crescent covered in layers of colored old fishing nets. Below it, a more minimal crescent represents the phase when the heavens bless the fishers. Inside the moon’s crescent, a bowl-shaped form pours waves and fish upon the sea, interspersed with tiny, brightly colored fish crafted from plastic waste. Yet the fleeting joy of these small fish quickly fades to melancholy as one notices their broken forms, with many gazing wide-eyed, amplifying the sorrow of this ecological loss.

The artists extensively use discarded fishing nets and other ocean waste to address environmental issues directly within their creative process. They hope to engage the public in future collaborative projects, turning art-making into a collective effort to clean up marine debris. Their work is straightforward, unembellished, but powerfully reflective of the harsh reality, evoking a raw and genuine emotional response.

Wang, Yu-Wen, "The Stars Disappeared"

An alumna of the Taipei National University of the Arts, Wang arranges a mysterious natural ecosystem within a dimly lit indoor space. In the foreground stands a forest crafted from paper mulberry bark, with swirling patterns and fiber seams that seem to conceal small creatures. Behind this lies a stream or wetland, textured to give the impression of life hidden in every corner. Several paintings hang on the walls, their intricate textures revealing frogs, crabs, Martes flavigula chrysospila, and even a large, half-eaten shrimp shell.

In this interactive piece, viewers are encouraged to step barefoot into the simulated stream or wetland and use a flashlight to uncover small insects that emit a blue glow, resembling stars in the night sky. Inspired by her time exploring and foraging along Qili creek with friends,Yu-Wen integrates these lived experiences and sensory encounters with the environment. This participatory work, her first in such a format, incorporates tactile engagement, fostering a connection with nature through inventive material use and interactive design.

Yu-Wen’s technique involves layering and adhering paper to create textured surfaces resembling small topographies. Through intricate painting and abrasion techniques, these surfaces bring the vibrant biodiversity of Qili creek to life, subtly revealed among mystical water reflections and interwoven branches.

In a multi-dimensional, darkly magical space, viewers are invited to go barefoot and use a UV flashlight to explore the overlapping layers of water, light, stones, and darkness that create a diorama of Qili creek’s ecosystem. As they illuminate the ground, water, trees, and grasses, various hidden species gradually reveal themselves, echoing the stars above. Unlike consuming or harvesting life, this experience offers an immersive appreciation of natural beauty. This interactive work is a form of ecological education, imbued with a playful spirit, making it ideal for families. Through various means, it connects with Austronesian cultural themes.

Chen, Shu-Yen, "Ocean of Islands and Boats"

This series resonates with Taiwan’s Austronesian origins and the migratory history of Austronesian peoples. Taiwan has always been a vibrant, richly diverse island, full of life in geography, history, biodiversity, and culture. Like a ship facing the Pacific, Taiwan is both mobile and interconnected, moving in concert with other islands.

The artist uses driftwood, mulberry bark, and aluminum wire to form sculptures embodying layered imagery. These pieces can be hung, aligned with the viewer’s line of sight, elevated, placed against walls, or set on the ground. Resembling boats, cradles, cocoons, and fruits, they have open spaces within, inviting connections to the sky, sea, land, and others in a vast, timeless journey of migration, cooperation, and sharing. These forms exude a distinct sense of slow, gentle movement and evolution within quiet, infinite space.

The artist showcases her skill in working with diverse materials, especially the paper mulberry bark cloth from Taiwan. She emphasizes its unique texture, patterns, and colors, pairing it with organic, life-infused driftwood from the eastern coast. Metal weaving adds further depth, resulting in oceanic forms with layered meanings and a powerful sense of symbiosis and quiet evolution.

Though not Indigenous, the artist deeply identifies with the Austronesian value of mutual cooperation and independence. Her background is distinct from other artists, spanning studies in applied arts, fashion design, fiber arts, natural dyeing techniques, and teaching textile arts in universities and Indigenous communities. With numerous exhibitions, residencies, and international exchanges, her works organically communicate the distant yet intimate bonds between Austronesian peoples and islands.

Sapud Kacaw “Just Like The Waves”

Sapud Kacaw, an artist from Makudaai Tribe, presents three oil paintings, a statue, a small beach, and a documentary. The paintings depict consecutive seascapes: in the foreground, dense, fierce white waves, while lighter blue waters lie farther back, and darker blue currents reach the horizon.These varied currents, each with different temperatures, directions, and speeds, teem with fish.

Below the paintings lies a small beach recreated with pebbles of various sizes, remarkably lifelike. On this miniature beach stands a small but muscular figure, symbolizing an Indigenous person, with wave-like lines of different colors extending behind him.

The multi-jointed support that upholds this powerful figure allows him to stand atop as if he is moving fearlessly with the waves. He understands the rhythms of the tides and knows when the ocean will provide an abundant catch. With gratitude, he celebrates llisin.

Beside the artwork, a small screen displays a video of llisin, with music, singing, and dancing. Young people dressed in traditional attire move, feathers and white threads swaying like waves in a dance circle. Elders liken it to the ocean, with big waves and small waves, constantly rolling, the songs and chants like the endless sounds of the surf, in an unbroken, rhythmic cycle.

His collection of works aims to capture the beauty of this culture, ensuring its preservation, transmission, and sharing. He has emphasized that one of the most challenging aspects within his community is persuading everyone to come together for a unified purpose. His work communicates a simple yet powerful sense of mission: to pass down this unending story of tradition.

Conclusion

Artists and Their Works: From the three award-winning artists and the work of Anguc Makaunamun with the coiled beast-head sculpture, we see that Indigenous identity, combined with rigorous artistic training, adds significant value. Additionally, artists who actively engage in community leadership activities bring greater depth, tension, and authenticity to their works.

Siyat Moses: This artist has assembled numerous dialectical image tools, using ancient myths, colonial perspectives, and even the imagery of the colonial knife to deconstruct taboos surrounding homosexuality and queer identities. His approach is filled with wisdom and eloquence.ljalje’elan・patadalj: Utilizing his own shadow alongside traditional symbols such as iron pots, animal hides, and woven ginger mats, His links various aspects of Paiwan cultural heritage across time. His work reflects the complex impact of cultural interactions and colonial history on Indigenous culture, offering interpretative perspectives directed toward the future.

Akac Orat: The Rattan Path-Becoming a Man subtly conveys the disciplined labor and collective journey of overcoming challenges to achieve manhood in Indigenous tradition. This process, capturing a simple, authentic story of collective life growth, touches the heart with little need for words.

Anguc Makaunamun:His attempts to merge various biological characteristics into head-like forms that embody animism and shamanic belief. Through a ritualistic approach to life, his work reflects a vision of a future where different cultures, even diverse animal and plant life, can coexist sustainably.More extensively trained in art, Hakka-Australian artist Candice Jee explores a complex journey of root-seeking due to her numerous migrations. Through transformed, hybrid media, she uses woven landscapes to actively construct a form of mixed cultural identity.More experienced Indigenous artists, including Kofid Talo, Wang, Ting-Ting, and Sapud Kacaw, channel deeply personal community experiences, myths, and rituals into their works, making them both moving and accessible. They emphasize the sustainability of traditional values and a humble way of life, often prioritizing these over formal and conceptual innovation.

Young non-Indigenous artists with relevant artistic training tend to develop work from a broad, universal perspective. Huang, Jing-Jhong, also a graduate of Taipei National University of the Arts, uses the imagery of a cityscape verging on self-destruction, contrasting it with a nostalgic natural home that has vanished. This indirectly highlights the wisdom in Indigenous respect for sustainable life.

Non-Indigenous Wang Yu-Wen, also from Taipei National University of the Arts, emphasizes the preciousness of nature through joyful nocturnal ecological explorations, evoking boundless happiness. While her work lacks a direct link to Austronesian mythology and history, she contributes to the cultivation of a new Austronesian community.Experienced non-Indigenous artist Chen, Shu-Yan, with a diverse background, extends her love of natural materials and ancient crafts into fiber art. Her deep interest in humanity’s universal connection to primal nature shines through in her use of exhibition materials and compositions, powerfully conveying the intimate yet independent relationships within Indigenous communities.

Expectations and Suggestions for the Austronesian International Arts Awards

One suggestion is for the judging panel to recommend a specific Austronesian-speaking nation each year for research on culture and art, accompanied by a small symposium and exhibition. Another recommendation is for the panel to select a project-based artwork, showcasing long-term development, with progress documentation displayed alongside the mini-research exhibition.

This year, the individual works and open exhibition space were successful. To improve depth and continuity, additional elements should complement areas that were less fully developed, with possible integration where similar plans exist.