Writing the Barbaric Recent Past : Holocaust Fiction for Young Adults

Horror and redemption in Holocaust writing for young adults: Marcus Zusak’s The Book Thief, John Boyne’s The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas. While it has long been thought that the Holocaust is not an appropriate subject matter for young audiences, from The Diary of Anne Frank onwards it has always been part of their reading matter. Never, however, has there been so much interest as in the recent best-selling publications by Zusak and Boyne (the latter of which has been made into a film). This chapter examines the politics of crafting stories for young people about the unspeakable events of the recent past, about who has the right to ‘speak for’ the victims, and whether some genres (for example, fairy stories or fabulism) work best, given the horrific nature of the subject matter.

Facilitating local stories in post-disaster regional communities : evaluation in narrative-driven oral history projects

Cyclone Yasi struck the Cassowary Coast of Northern Queensland, Australia, in the early hours of February 3, 2011, destroying many homes and property, including the destruction of the Cardwell and district historical society’s premises. With their own homes flattened, many residents were forced to live in mobile accommodation, with extended family, or leave the area altogether. The historical society members seemed, however, particularly devastated by their flattened foreshore museum and loss of their precious collection of material. A call for assistance was made through the Oral History Association of Australia’s Queensland branch (OHAA Qld), which along with a Queensland University of Technology (QUT) research team sponsored a trip to best plan how they could start to pick up the pieces to rebuild the museum. This chapter highlights the need for communities to gather, preserve and present their own stories, in a way that is sustainable and meaningful to them – whether that be because of a disaster, or as they go about life in their contemporary communities – the key being that good advice, professional support and embedded evaluation practices at crucial moments along the way can be critically important.

Dance literacy: An embodied phenomenon

Literacy in dance involves conscious awareness of cognitive, aesthetic and physical activity along with the skills to articulate these activities as required in any given context. Dance literacy, perhaps uniquely, also entails unconscious, tacit, embodied knowledge within the holistic body, a corporeality: knowledge which is physically experienced but only articulated in the dance. The essence of this corporeality has a transcendent quality which contributes to the universality of dance. The degrees to which a dancer’s awareness is refined, the physical activity articulated and the embodied knowledge universal, will define the level of development of the dancer’s literacy. This literacy can be learned, though not every body and mind has equal capacity for development. If we wish to develop dance literacy, qualitatively encompassing more than dance technique, the art of learning must be carefully cultivated to allow the art of dance to flourish. The pathways of learning dance are individuated; transcendence is realised through the common experience that what we are learning is coming from within.

Queensland small towns Documentary project

This photographic documentary project explores diverse stories of Queensland mining towns. Images compare the interplay between communities, commerce and natural resources. The project is a collaboration between three Brisbane universities (Queensland University of Technology, Griffith University and University of Queensland) and is supported by the Brisbane Powerhouse and the State Library of Queensland. Funded by a $50,000 Arts Queensland grant.

From “anytime, anywhere” to “here and now”: place and time restrictions in mobile narratives to enhance situated engagement of mobile users

The usage of the mobile Internet has increased tremendously within the last couple of years, and thereby the vision of accessing information anytime, anywhere has become more realistic and a dominant design principle for providing content. However, this study challenges this paradigm of unlimited and unrestricted access, and explores the question whether constraints and restrictions can positively influence the motivation and enticement of mobile users to engage with location-specific content. Restrictions, such as a particular time or location that gives a user access to content, may be used to foster participation and engagement, as well as to support content production and to enhance the user’s experience. In order to explore this, a Mobile Narrative and a Narrative Map have been created. For the former, the access to individual chapters of the story was restricted. Authors can specify constraints, such as a location or time, which need to be met by the reader if they want to read the story. This concept allows creative writers of the story to exploit the fact that the reader’s context is known, by intensifying the user experience and integrating this knowledge into the writing process. The latter, the Narrative Map, provides users with extracts from stories or information snippets about authors at relevant locations. In both concepts, a feedback channel was also integrated, on which location, time, and size constraints were imposed. In a user-centred design process involving authors and potential readers, those concepts have been implemented, followed by an evaluation comprising four user studies. The results show that restrictions and constraints can indeed lead to more enticing and engaging user experiences, and restricted contribution opportunities can lead to a higher motivation to participate as well as to an improved quality of submissions. These findings are relevant for future developments in the area of mobile narratives and creative writing, as well as for common mobile services that aim for enticing user experiences.

Fan writers [Författande fans]

[In Swedish: Varje dag ägnar sig mängder av ungdomar åt att skriva, läsa och kommentera fanfiction, berättelser baserade på karaktärer från redan kända verk. I fanfiction förflyttas förlagans miljöer och karaktärer in i andra sammanhang där nya historier skapas. Ungdomarna gör sina texter tillgängliga på olika nätsajter, där läsare över hela världen i interaktion med skribenterna kan kommentera och påverka. Detta möjliggör en kraftfull skrivprocess där aktörerna agerar som både författare, läsare och kritiker. Läs mer om boken på studentlitteratur.se]

Theatre, social media and spectatorship : translating commentary, critique and controversy across media

The occasional ArtsHub article asking spectators to show respect for stage by switching all devices off notwithstanding, in the last few years we have witnessed an clear push to make more use of social media as a means by which spectators might respond to a performance across most theatre companies. Mainstage companies, as well as contemporary companies are asking us to turn on, tune in and tweet our impressions of a show to them, to each other, and to the masses – sometimes during the show, sometimes after the show, and sometimes without having seen the show. In this paper, I investigate the relationship between theatre, spectatorship and social media, tracing the transition from print platforms in which expert critics were responsible for determining audience response to today’s online platforms in which everybody is responsible for debating responses. Is the tendency to invite spectators to comment via social media before, during, or after a show the advance in audience engagement, entertainment and empowerment many hail it to be? Is it a return to a more democratised past in which theatres were active, interactive and at times downright rowdy, and the word of the published critic had yet to take over from the word of the average punter? Is it delivering distinctive shifts in theatre and theatrical meaning making? Or is it simply a good way to get spectators to write about a work they are no longer watching? An advance in the marketing of the work rather than an advance in the active, interactive aesthetic of the work? In this paper, I consider what the performance of spectatorship on social media tells us about theatre, spectatorship and meaning-making. I use initial findings about the distinctive dramaturgies, conflicts and powerplays that characterise debates about performance and performance culture on social media to reflect on the potentially productive relationship between theatre, social media, spectatorship, and meaning making. I suggest that the distinctive patterns of engagement displayed on social media platforms – including, in many cases, remediation rather than translation, adaptation or transformation of prior engagement practices – have a lot to tell us about how spectators and spectator groups negotiate for the power to provide the dominant interpretation of a work.

Sounds From The Empty City (soundtrack)

These wordless songs were composed as music first, and soundtrack second. There is a difference. A soundtrack will always be connected with whatever it is accompanying. Music doesn’t neccessarily need to reference anything else. The Empty City transformed a picture book into a non-verbal performance combining the live and animated. Without spoken words the show would dance on the dangerous intersection of music, image and action. In both theatre and film (and this production drew on both traditions) soundtrack and music are often added on at the end when everything’s been pre-determined, a passive, responsive mode for such a powerful artform. It’s literally added in ‘post’. In The Empty City, music was present from its inception and grew with the show. It was active in process and product. It frequently led rehearsals and shaped other key decisions in virtual and live performance. Rather than tailor-make music towards pre-determined moments, independent compositions created without specific reference to narrative experimented with the creation of a flock of small musical pieces. I was interested in seeing how they flew and where they roosted, rather than having them born and raised in (narrative) captivity. The sonic palette is largely acoustic, incorporating ukulele, prepared piano and supported by a range of other elements tending towards electronica. Eventually more than seventy pieces of music were made for this show, twice the number used. These pieces were then placed in relation to the emerging scenes, then adapted in duration, texture and progression to develop a relationship with the scene. In this way, music (even when it’s synced) has a conversation with a performance, an exchange that may result in surprise rather than fulfillment of expectation. Leitmotif emerged from loops and layers, as the pieces of music ‘conversed’ with each other, rather than being premeditated and imposed. Nineteen of these tracks are compiled for this release, which finds the compositions (which progressed through many versions) poised at the moment between their fullest iteration as ‘music’ and their editing and full incorporation into a sychronised soundtrack. They are released as the began: as 'music-alone' (Kivy) In picture-book writing, the mutual interplay of text and image is sometimes referred to as interanimation , and this is the kind of symbiosis this project sought in the creation of the soundtrack. Reviewers of the noted the important role of the soundtrack in two separate productions of The Empty City: “The original score…takes centre stage” (Borhani, 2013) “…swept up in its repetition of sounds and images, like a Bach fugue” (Zampatti, 2013)

The Empty City (production)

This creative work is the production of the live and animated performance of The Empty City. With a significant period of creative development and script work behind it, the team engaged in a range of innovative performance-making practices in order to realise the work onstage as a non-verbal live and animated theatre work. This intermedial process was often led by music, and involved the creation and convergence of non-verbal action, virtual performers, performing objects and two simultaneous projections of animated images. The production opened at the Brisbane Powerhouse on June 27 2013, with a subsequent tour to Perth’s Awesome Festival in October 2013. Its technical achievements were noted in the critical responses. "The story is told on a striking set of two huge screens, the front one transparent, upon which still and moving images are projected, and between which Oliver performs and occasional “real” objects are placed. The effect is startling, and creates a cartoon three dimensionality like those old Viewmaster slide shows. The live action… and soundscape sync perfectly with the projected imagery to complete a dense, intricately devised and technically brilliant whole." (The West Australian 14.10.13)

From cinema to TV : still the same old stories about journalism

Television drama used to be the poor relation of the full length feature film made for cinema. No self-respecting movie star would be seen dead in the former, and successful TV actors rarely sustained careers of comparable brilliance in the film industry. Those days are gone, if a series such as House of Cards is any indicator of the trends.

Thinking as if you are another : drama, persuasive language and pretexts

Using Shaun Tan’s picture book Rules of Summer (2013) as a pretext, this practical session will explore how primary teachers can engage middle and upper primary students in drama-based activities that support student learning and assessment outcomes in both English and The Arts (with a particular emphasis on drama and media arts). The session will explore notions of persuasive text (written and oral), points of view, devised storytelling and embodied learning.

Publishing, postage, and prizes : classic Australian children’s literature in the public eye

2012 saw the publication of competing and complementary lines of Australian “classics”: “A&R Australian Classics” (HarperCollins) and “Text Classics” (Text Publishing). While Angus and Robertson were key in establishing a canon of Australian children’s classics in the twentieth century, it was the Text Classics line which included a selection of young people’s titles in their 2013. In turn, Penguin Australia launched a selection of “Australian Children’s Classics”. In so doing, these publishers were drawing on particular literary and visual cultural traditions in Australian children’s literature. Public assertions of a particular selection of children’s books reveals not only contemporary assumptions about desirable childhood experiences but about the operation of nostalgia therein. In encouraging Australian adults to judge books by their covers, such gestures imply that Australian children may be similarly understood. Importantly, the illusion of unity, sameness, and legibility which is promised by circumscribed canons of “classic” children’s literature may well imply a desire for similarly illusory, unified, legible, “classic” childhood. This paper attends to public attempts to materialise (and legitimise) a canon of classic Australian children’s literature. In particular, it considers the ways in which publishing, postage stamps, and book awards make visible a range of children’s books, but do so in order to either fix or efface the content or meaning of the books themselves. Moving between assertions of the best books for children from the 1980s to today, and of the social values circulated within those books, this paper considers the possibilities and problematics of an Australian children’s canon.