My name is Nuriah Jadai
I come from Bidyadanga, where the red earth, the saltwater air, and the stories of my people shaped the way I see the world. My work carries the light of that Country — the space between dust and sky where imagination and culture meet.
“I grew up between earth and sky, learning early that stories live in both.”
Born in Derby and raised in Bidyadanga, my childhood moved between communities like Parnngurr and Punmu — places that taught me to notice the quiet beauty in shadows, bird tracks, and morning light. Surrounded by my mother, grandmother, and siblings, I learned creativity as a way of surviving, remembering, and connecting. Those early years shaped the way I listen to Country and the way I express myself through art.
The gift of art was placed in my hands long before I understood it.
I come from a strong artistic lineage — relatives like my grandfather Muuki and Nola Taylor guided the path long before I walked it. I picked up a paintbrush at three, a pencil soon after, sketching dragons and strange creatures from Paul Jennings stories and the worlds of Star Wars. Later, when I opened a childhood time capsule, the detail in my early paintings reminded me that art had always been part of me, quietly waiting to grow.
I learned that you can make something from nothing, because I had to.
I grew up in a tin shed with no furniture and no bathroom, imagining the space I wished I could build. Those dreams carried me into furniture design, and today I’m proud to be the first First Nations female furniture designer in Western Australia. I work with Australian steel, Pilbara marble, and fabrics woven on Australia’s last operating loom. My pieces echo waterholes, shaded camps, and the circular spaces where our people have gathered forever — blended with the science fiction worlds that filled my imagination as a child.
Walking between cultural knowledge and contemporary influence became my natural language.
My practice spans painting, photography, fashion, printmaking and furniture design, each medium its own way of speaking. As Indigenous artists, we often carry two worlds — the ancient knowledge of our people, and the modern influences that shape us today. For me, they sit side by side comfortably: Mangala heritage and Star Wars, desert memory and childhood fantasy. They don’t cancel each other out — they expand what’s possible.
Everything I create begins with gratitude for Country.
Country isn’t just land to me; it’s a presence. A pulse. When I paint or photograph, I’m trying to honour the beauty of where I come from — the place that raised me. A piece I created about my mother’s Country was recently purchased by Hon. Simone McGurk at PICA. In that work, I wanted to share the feeling of our desert: soft, vast, golden, full of quiet detail. When you slow down, you see so much more. That’s what I hope people feel in my work, Indigenous and non-Indigenous alike.
My dreams continue to grow, the same way stories do — passed forward.
I hope to one day open a gallery with my sister, a space to share our stories with the world. I want my furniture in Australian-owned spaces across the country and overseas. I want our cultural stories to keep moving, evolving, and opening new paths for our next generations. If I can imagine it, I can build it — that belief has carried me since childhood.
This is the story I’m still unfolding — shaped by dust, light, Country, and imagination.
I carry pride in belonging to the oldest living culture on the planet, and deep gratitude for the Australian arts community that continues to walk with me. My art is my way of honouring old knowledge and exploring new worlds. Everything I make holds a piece of where I come from and where I dream we can go.