Re-engaging marginalized youth through digital music production: performance, audience and evaluation

This paper presents two case studies of marginalised youth experimenting with digital music production in flexible education settings. The cases were drawn from a three-year study of alternative assessment in flexible learning centres that enrol 650+ students who have left formal schooling in Queensland, Australia. The cases are framed in reference to the literature on cultural studies approaches to education and the digital arts. Each case describes the student’s histories, cultural background and experiences, music productions, evidence of learning and re-engagement with education. Findings document how digital music production can re-engage and extend participation among students who have left formal education. They do so by theorising the online judgements and blog comments about the digital music production as a social field of exchange. It also raises critical questions about the adequacy of current approaches to evaluating and accounting for the learning and development of such youth, especially where this has occurred through creative arts and digital production.

Grant Stevens : Are You Upset with Me?

Grant Stevens is ambivalent. The young Brisbane artist made his name with a series of computer-generated animated-text videos that explore clichés but seem undecided as to whether they are trivial and vacuous, profound and authentic or somehow both at once. Stevens plunders mass-media sources (the familiar image repertoire dished up by Hollywood, television, pop music and the Internet) as readymade content. He explores this everyday language, sometimes for its ambiguity, but more often for its almost uncanny lucidity. Resembling meditation and relaxation guides, his recent videos beg the question: what made us so anxious? This book examines Stevens' artistic output over the first ten years of his practice. It includes essays by Mark Pennings and Chris Kraus.

Documentary as history, memory, dream and film

A century ago, as the Western world embarked on a period of traumatic change, the visual realism of photography and documentary film brought print and radio news to life. The vision that these new mediums threw into stark relief was one of intense social and political upheaval: the birth of modernity fired and tempered in the crucible of the Great War. As millions died in this fiery chamber and the influenza pandemic that followed, lines of empires staggered to their fall, and new geo-political boundaries were scored in the raw, red flesh of Europe. The decade of 1910 to 1919 also heralded a prolific period of artistic experimentation. It marked the beginning of the social and artistic age of modernity and, with it, the nascent beginnings of a new art form: film. We still live in the shadow of this violent, traumatic and fertile age; haunted by the ghosts of Flanders and Gallipoli and its ripples of innovation and creativity. Something happened here, but to understand how and why is not easy; for the documentary images we carry with us in our collective cultural memory have become what Baudrillard refers to as simulacra. Detached from their referents, they have become referents themselves, to underscore other, grand narratives in television and Hollywood films. The personal histories of the individuals they represent so graphically–and their hope, love and loss–are folded into a national story that serves, like war memorials and national holidays, to buttress social myths and values. And, as filmic images cross-pollinate, with each iteration offering a new catharsis, events that must have been terrifying or wondrous are abstracted. In this paper we first discuss this transformation through reference to theories of documentary and memory–this will form a conceptual framework for a subsequent discussion of the short film Anmer. Produced by the first author in 2010, Anmer is a visual essay on documentary, simulacra and the symbolic narratives of history. Its form, structure and aesthetic speak of the confluence of documentary, history, memory and dream. Located in the first decade of the twentieth century, its non-linear narratives of personal tragedy and poetic dreamscapes are an evocative reminder of the distance between intimate experience, grand narratives, and the mythologies of popular films. This transformation of documentary sources not only played out in the processes of the film’s production, but also came to form its theme.

Review of "Christoph Schlingensief : art without borders" edited by Tara Forrest and Anna Teresa Scheer

Christoph Schlingensief: Art Without Borders, edited by Tara Forrest and Anna Teresa Scheer, is the first English-language collection of essays about this extraordinary German artist. As Forrest and Scheer suggest in their introduction, ‘access to Schlingensief’s highly challenging productions has been hampered by the fact that very little has been published on his oeuvre in the English-speaking world’. This collection aims to introduce English-speaking artists, scholars and academics to Schlingensief’s extensive, experimental, and at times highly controversial body of work across film, theatre, television, live art and activism...

Do you see what I mean? charting changing representations and receptions of the disabled body in contemporary and pop cultural performance

The meaning of the body emerges through acts of seeing, looking and staring in daily and dramatic performances. Acts that are, as Maike Bleeker argues1, bound up with the scopic rules, regimes and narratives that apply in specific cultures at specific times. In Western culture, the disabled body has been seen as a sign of defect, deficiency, fear, shame or stigma. Disabled artists – Mat Fraser, Bill Shannon, Aaron Williamson, Katherine Araniello, Liz Crow and Ju Gosling – have attempted, via performances that co-opt conventional images of the disabled body, to challenge dominant ways of representing and responding such bodies from within. In this paper, I consider what happens when non-disabled artists co-opt images of the disabled body to draw attention to, affirm, and even exoticise, eroticise or beautify, other modalities of or desires for difference. As Carrie Sandahl has noted2, the signs, symbols and somatic idiosyncrasies of the disabled body are, today, transported or translated into theatre, film and television as a metaphor or "master trope" for every body’s experience of difference. This happens in performance art (Guillermo Gomez-Pena’s use of a wheelchair in Chamber of Confessions), performance (Marie Chouinard's use of crutches, canes and walkers to represent dancers’ experience of becoming different or mutant during training in bODY rEMIX /gOLDBERG vARIATIONS), and pop culture (characters in wheelchairs in Glee or Oz). In this paper, I chart changing representations and receptions of the disabled body in such contexts. I use analysis of this cultural shift as a starting point for a re-consideration of questions about whether a face-toface encounter with a disabled body is in fact a privileged site for the emergence of a politics, and whether co-opting disability as a metaphor for a range of difference differences reduces its currency as a category around which a specific group might mobilise a politics.

Local Hollywood: global film production and the Gold Coast

Hollywood films and television programs are watched by a global audience. While many of these productions are still made in southern California, the last twenty years have seen new production centres emerge in the US, Canada and other locations worldwide. Global Hollywood has been made possible by this growing number of Local Hollywoods: locations equipped with the requisite facilities, resources and labour, as well as the political will and tax incentives, to attract and retain high-budget, Hollywood-standard projects. This new book gives an unprecedented insight into how the Gold Coast became the first outpost of Hollywood in Australia. When a combination of forces drove Hollywood studios and producers to work outside California, the Gold Coast's unique blend of government tax support, innovative entrepreneurs and diverse natural settings made it a perfect choice to host Hollywood productions. 'Local Hollywood' makes an essential contribution to the field of film and media studies, as well as giving film buffs a behind-the-scenes tour of the film industry.

A bureaucratic cinema: the fraught relationship between government and film

The interventions by the government in the production and circulation of film in late 1960s transformed the Australian cinema industry into a bureaucratic cinema because of its established agencies and institutions for the benefit of filmmakers. Training options expanded by the commencement of the Australian Film and Television School and the Film, Radio and Television Board of the Australia Council, which ran compulsory orientation seminars and workshops on the use of new equipments, helped the aspiring filmmakers to access money from the council's Basic Production Fund.

Cinematic and televisual cities

This article introduces the nine articles that comprise the 'Cities' issue of Studies in Australasian Cities. Established and emerging scholars explore cities in Australian and New Zealand film and television. Articles cover aspects of media production, reception and exhibition in particular cities, studies of various city characters and spaces, and analyses of the relationship between representations of a city on-screen and the 'real' city.

From 'Neighbours' to 'Packed to the Rafters': accounting for longevity in the evolution of Aussie soaps

If there is one television programming staple for which Australian television drama is known internationally, it is the long-running television soap, with Neighbours (originally produced by Grundy in 1985) lauded as 'the most outstanding example of Australian series export' (Cunningham and Jacka, 1996). Twenty-five years on, this program still airs on domestic and international TV schedules five days a week, despite waning popularity with local Australian audiences. Considering past interest in the success and longevity of this soap, it is apposite to look again at the continuing progress of Neighbours foremost as a global brand. In comparison, Packed to the Rafters is treated here as a contemporary version of familiar Aussie themes related to everyday middle-class suburbia, populated with blue skies and feel-good characters expressing wholesome family values, but with a stylistic innovation defined here as domestic realism. As part of the production ecology of the late 2000s, Packed to the Rafters demonstrates the considerable role for local drama productions as loss leaders and flagship programming for commercial free-to-air networks up against an increasingly difficult domestic market.

Books, toys and tablets : playing and learning in the age of digital media

Introduction During a recent study of how parents source information about children‘s early learning, one of us made our first serious foray into a local store licensed to the global chain Toys'R' Us. While walking the aisles, closely observing layout, signage and stock, several things became obvious. Firstly, large numbers of toys were labeled'educational'. Secondly, many toys in that category were intended for children under the age of two years. These were further differentiated as intended for 'babies' or 'infants', and sub-categorized on packaging or shelving using even smaller age increments (e.g. 0-3 months, 12-18 months, and so on). Thirdly, many products were labeled as 'interactive' and 'learning' toys that promised to assist children‘s early learning and development. The activation of some of these toys relied on embedded computer chip technology and promised to 'connect' children with the home television, computer and the Internet. These products were hybrids between a toy and a platform for digital media interaction. Closer inspection of toy packaging and other promotional material suggested that industry had begun to invest heavily in developing highly differentiated children‘s markets for products that yoked together concepts of learning and development, the 'fun toy' that incorporates digital technology, and offline- and online participation. In this chapter we explore the growth of this contemporary cultural phenomenon that now connects books, toys and mobile digital media with children‘s play and learning.

Shattered dreams : a community project

The research field was community empowerment through education and skill-building. The context was the high rates of domestic violence in the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander community, and the dearth of culturally-appropriate resource materials to stimulate and encourage community engagement with the issue. The research question concerned the use of a specific media project – the creation of a 7-minute 48-second DVD on the causes and impacts of domestic violence – as a focus for community empowerment, education and skills development. The research represented an innovative partnership between the university research team, a non-government organisation, and various expert content-providers. The project generated new knowledge regarding best practice, in such areas as the culturally appropriate use of the voices of elders, focusing on the responsibilities of both men and women in relation to family and domestic violence, and the protection of Aboriginal and Islander children. The project has created an excellent tool for workshops on related issues including familiarity with the legal system. The film has been distributed to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander domestic violence services throughout the State, and has generated interstate interest, indicating a significant gap in available culturally-appropriate domestic violence resources. A support package for educational workers within Indigenous community groups wishing to use the resource has also been produced. In 2010, the DVD was nominated for a Queensland Domestic and Family Violence Prevention Award. Other non-government organisations have expressed interest in using the model created through this community-based project.

Gravy

To many aspiring writer/directors of feature film breaking into the industry may be perceived as an insurmountable obstacle. In contemplating my own attempt to venture into the world of feature filmmaking I have reasoned that a formulated strategy could be of benefit. As the film industry is largely concerned with economics I decided that writing a relatively low-cost feature film may improve my chances of being allowed directorship by a credible producer. As a result I have decided to write a modest feature film set in a single interior shooting location in an attempt to minimise production costs, therefore also attempting to reduce the perceived risk in hiring the writer as debut director. As a practice-led researcher, the primary focus of this research is to create a screenplay in response to my greater directorial aspirations and to explore the nature in which the said strategic decision to write a single-location film impacts on not only the craft of cinematic writing but also the creative process itself, as it pertains to the project at hand. The result is a comedy script titled Gravy, which is set in a single apartment and strives to maintain a fast comedic pace whilst employing a range of character and plot devices in conjunction with creative decisions that help to sustain cinematic interest within the confines of the apartment. In addition to the screenplay artifact, the exegesis also includes a section that reflects on the writing process in the form of personal accounts, decisions, problems and solutions as well as examination of other author’s works.

Frames of Anime: Culture and Image-Building

With the rising popularity of anime amongst animation students, audiences and scholars around the world, it has become increasingly important to critically analyse anime as being more than a ‘limited’ form of animation, and thematically as encompassing more than super robots and pocket monsters. Frames of Anime: Culture and Image-Building charts the development of Japanese animation from its indigenous roots within a native culture, through Japan’s experience of modernity and the impact of the Second World War. This text is the result of a rigorous study that recognises the heterogeneous and polymorphous background of anime. As such, Tze-Yue has adopted an ‘interdisciplinary and transnational’ (p. 7) approach to her enquiry, drawing upon face-to-face interviews, on-site visits and biographical writings of animators. Tze-Yue delineates anime from other forms of animation by linking its visual style to pre-modern Japanese art forms and demonstrating the connection it shares with an indigenous folk system of beliefs. Via the identification of traditional Japanese art forms and their visual connectedness to Japanese animation, Tze-Yue shows that the Japanese were already heavily engaged in what was destined to become anime once technology had enabled its production. Tze-Yue’s efforts to connect traditional Japanese art forms, and their artistic elements, to contemporary anime reveals that the Japanese already had a rich culture of visual storytelling that pre-dates modern animation. She identifies the Japanese form of the magic lantern at the turn of the 19th century, utsushi-e, as the pre-modern ancestor of Japanese animation, describing it as ‘Edo anime’ (p. 43). Along with utsushi-e, the Edo period also saw the woodblock print, ukiyo-e, being produced for the rising middle class (p. 32). Highlighting the ‘resurfacing’ of ‘realist’ approaches to Japanese art in ukiyo-e, Tze-Yue demonstrates the visual connection of ukiyo-e and anime in the …

A silver bullet for Australian cinema? Genre movies and the audience debate

There has been a renaissance in Australian genre cinema in recent years. Indeed, not since the 1980s have Australian genre movies across action, adventure, horror, and science-fiction among others, experienced such prominence within production, policy discourse, and industry debate. Genre movies, typically associated with commercial filmmaking and entertainment, have been identified as a strategy to improve the box-office performance of Australian feature films and to attract larger audiences. Much of this conversation has revolved around the question of whether or not genre can deliver on these high expectations and transform the unpredictable local film industry into a popular and profitable commercial production sector. However, this debate for the most part has been disconnected from analysis of Australia’s genre movie heritage in terms of their position within Australian cinema and their reception with domestic audiences, and how this correlates to contemporary trends. As this chapter argues, genre production is not a silver bullet which will single handedly improve the Australian feature film industry’s commercial performance. Genre movies have occupied, and continue to occupy, a difficult position within Australian cinema and face numerous challenges in terms of reception with national audiences, limited production scale and enterprise structures, and ongoing tensions between culture and commerce.