We Sit in Circle is a compelling exhibition about strength, hope, and survival.

The second iteration of a new series presented by The Torch in partnership with QVWC, We Sit in Circle showcases powerful paintings and intricate weavings by First Peoples women with lived experience of incarceration. They are mothers, aunties, grandmothers, daughters, and sisters.

For generations, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples have used symbols as a visual language to pass down stories, preserve cultural knowledge and express spiritual beliefs. While their meanings vary across different language groups, many messages are shared. One such symbol is the circle, which represents a meeting or resting place. It reflects how we come together – sitting in circles, yarning (talking), and sharing. Lines extending from the circle signify journey paths, showing movement to and from that place of connection.

Curated to reflect the circle and a resting place, We Sit in Circle positions works by artists in the community near the entrance and exists of the gallery space, while those positioned in the centre are by artists currently in prison. This design reflects the position of each artists’ journey – with those in the centre regrouping, reconnecting and resting until they in time, join the community and continue on their own paths after release.

All artworks are available to purchase and 100% of the artwork price goes directly to the artist.

We Sit in Circle  is curated by  Flick Chafer-Smith, Ngarrindjeri artist and First Peoples Arts Mentor at The Torch.

Dates:  3–30 July 2026
Location:  Birnbeal Exhibition Space, Ground Floor, QVWC
Opening hours:  Monday–Friday, 9am–5pm

For we are the Matriarchs by Flick Chafer-Smith 
We are the root, the river, the rock.
The ones who stitch the sunrise to the land,
who speaks the names of those before us
so they do not fade into the dust.
We carry the stories in our bones,
passed down like ochre-painted dreams,
like song lines hummed into the night
where the stars lean close to listen.
In the quiet glow of sacred circles,
where only women’s feet may tread,
we whisper the lessons of the old ways
the songs, the healing, the power, the pride.
We walk with the past on our shoulders,
feet pressed firm to the earth that knows our names.
We are mothers and aunties wrapped in woven strength,
holding generations in the curve of our arms.
We are the keeper of secret knowing,
guides who shapes tomorrow’s hands.
A thread that binds the past to the future,
teaching our babies to hold the fire,
to never let it dim.
We show the young ones how to listen to the land,
to read the signs, to know the plants,
to hear the stories the wind sings at dusk,
to stand strong in the face of silence.
And when the storms roll in,
when the weight of the world presses heavy on our hearts,
we do not stand alone.
Sisters, mothers, aunties, daughters—
hands reach out, forming a strong stitch just like we were taught.
We sit in circle, feet planted deep,
passing wisdom like cool water on dry lips.
No shame here, no mountain to high.
Just knowing that pain can be carried together,
that healing is held in the voices of women who understand.
Through every loss, every breaking, every aching step,
we guide each other back to strength,
back to country, back to self.
Reminding each woman who falters
that she too holds the fire,
that she too is unshaken, unyielding,
born from the hands of those who survived before her.
For we are the matriarchs.