Thin

This poem anticipates the feelings generated by age and lingering illness – a sense of mental as well as physical wasting, and a gradual detachment from the world, becoming almost insubstantial. It is an attempt at empathy with my father during the months leading up to his death from pancreatic cancer, during which his physical changes were paralleled by the relinquishment of his plans, intentions and hopes.

Hunger

Poet's statement: My father died of pancreatic cancer a few years ago, and since then other family members and friends have developed cancer. Some have recovered, perhaps temporarily, while for others the prospect is one of inevitable decline, raising questions about when the point is reached where death is preferable to life. This poem expresses the ambiguity of visceral urges which could be towards either continued life or a relieving death.

In Bed with Autobiography: Unravelling the Fabric of Gender and Genre in Women’s Bed(room) Confessions

This thesis consists of a confessional narrative, What My Mother Doesn’t Know, and an accompanying exegesis, And Why I Should (Maybe) Tell Her. The creative piece employs the confessional mode as a subversive device in three separate narratives, each of which situates the bed as a site of resistance. The exegesis investigates how this self-disclosure in a domestic space flouts the governing rules of self-representation, specifically: telling the truth, respecting privacy and displaying normalcy. The female confession, I argue, creates an alternative space in women’s autobiography where notions of truth-telling can be undermined, the political dimensions of personal experience can be uncovered and the discourse of normality can be negotiated. In particular, women’s confessions told in, on or about the bed, dismantle the genre’s illusion of self and confirm the representative aspects of women’s experience. Framed within these parameters of power and powerlessness, the exegesis includes textual analyses of Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s The Yellow Wallpaper (1892), Tracey Emin’s My Bed (1999) and Lauren Slater’s Lying (2000), each of which exposes in a bedroom space, the author’s most obscure, intimate and traumatic experiences. Situated firmly within and against the genre’s traditional masculine domain, the exegesis also includes mediations on the creative work that validate the bed as my fabric for confession.

Working on the art of writing

In this short Case story Bronwyn Fredericks shares some of her tips on writing and about the craft of writing. This Case story is contained within the publication titled 'Researching Indigenous Health: A Practical Guide for Researchers', by Alison Laycock, Diane Walker, Nea Harrison and Jenny Brands and published by The Lowitja Institute(pp.266-267).

Death by Drowning : Gary Bryson's Turtle [A Review]

Accused of being autobiographical, as many debut novels often are, Turtle, upon first reading and further prying, does read as a story wrenched out of Gary Bryson’s own life. In a recent interview with Mandy Sayer, however, he was quick to deny all sorts of archetypal allegations. “Any resemblance to turtles living or dead”, Bryson explained, “is entirely coincidental”. Regardless of the many parallels that align author with protagonist—both were born and raised in a grey-skied Glasgow, both grew up in self-described dysfunctional families, and both returned to the colourless city to attend their mothers’ funerals—the narrative combines bruising black comedy with moments of magic realism. The result is an unlikely but often surprising concoction of twists and turns, each of which mixes the fallibility of memory with the slippery nature of truth. This playfulness between the material world and its metaphorical counterpart raises questions, not only about the curse that poisons its characters, but about the ethical implications of blurring fact and fiction...

Unlucky for Some : 13 poems by Roger McGough

Inspired by and featuring the poetry of Roger McGough (by permission of the author), Unlucky for Some is a spare, minimalistic work about homelessness, mental illness and class division performed entirely in slow motion. This multimedia work also utilised prerecorded and live feed video and music, and experimented with synchronous and asynchonous live and mediatised performance.

Aurora : an illustrated novella

Aurora, an illustrated novella, is a retelling of the classic fairytale Sleeping Beauty, set on the Australian coast around the grounds of the family lighthouse. Instead of following in the footsteps of tradition, this tale focuses on the long time Aurora is cursed to sleep by the malevolent Minerva; we follow Aurora as she voyages into the unconscious. Hunted by Minerva through the shifting landscape of her dreams, Aurora is dogged by a nagging pull towards the light—there is something she has left behind. Eventually, realising she must face Minerva to break the curse, they stage a battle of the minds in which Aurora triumphs, having grasped the power of her thoughts, her words. Aurora, an Australian fairytale, is a story of self-empowerment, the ability to shape destiny and the power of the mind. The exegesis examines a two-pronged question: is the illustrated book for young adults—graphic novel—relevant to a contemporary readership, and, is the graphic novel, where text and image intersect, a suitably specular genre in which to explore the unconscious? It establishes the language of the unconscious and the meaning of the term ‘graphic novel’, before investigating the place of the illustrated book for an older readership in a contemporary market, particularly exploring visual literacy and the way text and image—a hybrid narrative—work together. It then studies the aptitude of graphic literature to representing the unconscious and looks at two pioneers of the form: Audrey Niffenegger, specifically her visual novel The Three Incestuous Sisters, and Shaun Tan, and his graphic novel The Arrival. Finally, it reflects upon the creative work, Aurora, in light of three concerns: how best to develop a narrative able to relay the dreaming story; how to bestow a certain ‘Australianess’ upon the text and images; and the dilemma of designing an illustrated book for an older readership.

Adapting, renewing, subverting : what place the performing arts in the creative industries?

Creative Industries was adopted as a platform in the 90s by the Blair government in the UK to describe the convergence of the arts, media, communication and information technologies as a newly formed cluster, providing economic and cultural capital for the knowledge economy. The philosophy and rhetoric which has grown around this concept (Leadbeater 2000, Castells 2000, Florida 2000, Caves 2000, Hartley 2000) has been influential in re-contextualising culture and the arts in the 21st century. Where governments and educational institutions have embraced the context of the creative industries, it is having a profound effect on the way arts are being positioned, originally as ‘creative content’ for the new economy. Countries and regions which have actively targeted the Creative Industries as an important economic growth factor in a post-industrial environment are numerous, but it is interesting to note that North and South East Asia and Australia have been at the forefront of developing the Creative Industries in its various guises. It could be argued that the initial phase of Creative Industries concentrated on media and communication technologies to provide commercial outcomes in small incubator business models; developing, for example, products for the games industry. Creative Industries is now entering a second phase of development; one in which the broader palette of the arts, though still not at the forefront of debate, is being re-examined. Both phases of Creative Industries have emphasised creativity and innovation as key drivers in the success and effectiveness of this sector, and although the arts by no means has a monopoly on these drivers, it is where they have an important part to play in the creative industries context. Arguably, the second wave of the creative industries acknowledges to a greater extent that commercialisation works in tandem with government and other support in a complex mixed economic model. In relation to the performing arts, the global market has seen an increase in large-scale cultural events such as festivals which are providing employment for the arts industry and multiplier effects in other parts of the economy. Differentiated product is important in this competitive arena and the use of mediated and digitised environments has been able to increase the amount of arts product available to an international market. This changed environment requires the development of new skills for our artists and producers and has given rise to a reappraisal of approaches to arts training and research in the Higher Degree Education sector (Brown 2007, Cunningham 2006). This paper examines pedagogical changes which took place in the first Creative Industries Faculty in the world at Queensland University of Technology as well as the increased opportunities for leading research initiatives. It concludes with the example of an interdisciplinary artwork produced in a creative industries precinct, exemplifying the convergence of arts and communication technologies and that of artistic practice and research.

Eat, pray, loathe : women’s travel memoir as moving metaphysical journey or narcissistic new-age babble?

This paper considers the contentious space between self-affirmation and selfpreoccupation in Elizabeth Gilbert’s popular travel memoir, Eat, Pray, Love. Following the surveillance of the female confessant, the female traveller has recently come under close scrutiny and public suspicion. She is accused of walking a fine line between critical self-insight and obsessive selfimportance and her travel narratives are branded as accounts of navel gazing that are less concerned with what is seen than with who is doing the seeing. In reading these themes against the backdrop of women’s travel, the possibility arises that the culture of narcissism is increasingly read as a female discursive practice, concerned with authorship, privacy and the subjectivity of truth. The novel, which has been praised by some as ‘the ultimate guide to balanced living’ and dismissed by others as ‘self-serving junk’, poses questions about the requisites in Western culture for being a female traveller and for telling a story that focuses primarily on the self.

Another mango season

Short fiction

That Blackfella Bloodsucka Dance!

"That Blackfella Bloodsucka Dance!" A novel in which a part-blood Aboriginal Australian becomes a full-blood vampire (see the above pdf for the first 50 pages FREE!). Synopsis. In this bold and cheeky meditation on religion, middle-aged muscleman, uncertain Catholic and wanna-be academic Sterling de Bortoli is a self-described Octaroon: a one eighth Aboriginal Australian. Neither black nor white this part-blood Blackfella struggles with concepts of identity, moving between the two worlds but not really belonging to either. Thus he pursues a frustrated, anarchic, homeless existence in Canberra and Melbourne, until, through the influence of the Anti-Christ, his Dark Lord Maria, he travels to Islamic Morocco. It's a land completely foreign to his Dreamtime totem, and it's where de Bortoli learns to be a full-blood vampire ... a monster who never says sorry. ISBN: 978-3-8454-4518-2 Available in hard copy and E-book.

The enterprising artist and the arts entrepreneur : Emergent pedagogies for new disciplinary habits of mind

Traditional pedagogies in the arts in higher education focus largely on the studio experience in which a novice artist studies under one or more master teachers (e.g., Don, Garvey, & Sadeghpour, 2009). In more recent times, however, a shift in higher education curriculum and pedagogy in the arts has expanded this traditional conservatory model of training to include, among other components, career self-management and enterprise creation—in a word, entrepreneurship.This chapter examines the developing field of arts enterprise and arts entrepreneurship in higher education in a multinational context. The field is contextualized within the broader landscape of the creative industries and the consequential development of knowledge, skills, and the habits of mind necessary for artistic venture creation, sustainability, and success. Whereas the discourse about learning and teaching for business entrepreneurship is well established (e.g., Fiet, 2001), equivalent conversations about arts enterprise and entrepreneurship have only recently begun (Beckman, 2007, 2011; Essig, 2009). This chapter will address the contested definitions of key terms and concepts and also the question of how arts educators, although mindful of the pedagogic traditions of the arts school, are also drawing on the pedagogies of business entrepreneurship and cognitive theories of entrepreneurship to create innovative new transdisciplinary signature pedagogies for creative enterprise and entrepreneurship education in the arts.

Making it creatively : building sustainable careers in the arts and creative industries

Many people aspire to careers in the arts and creative industries. However, it has long been known that it can be challenging to navigate a creative career: that competition for work can be intense, particularly for entry-level positions, and that success requires advanced skill sets in addition to a high degree of artistic talent and proficiency. In this article, Dr Ruth Bridgstock draws upon her doctoral and post-doctoral research to explore the challenges involved in building a creative career in Australia and suggest ways to support emerging creatives to build satisfying and sustainable careers.

Positive emotional responses to hybridised writing about a socio-scientific issue

In order to understand better the role of affect in learning about socio-scientificissues (SSI), this study investigated Year 12 students’ emotional arousal as they participated in an online writing-to-learn science project about the socio-scientific issue of biosecurity. Students wrote a series of hybridised scientific narratives, or BioStories, that integrate scientific information about biosecurity with narrative storylines, and uploaded these to a dedicated website. Throughout their participation in the project, students recorded their emotional responses to the various activities (N=50). Four case students were also video recorded during selected science lessons as they researched, composed and uploaded their BioStories for peer review. Analysis of these data, as well as interview data obtained from the case students, revealed that pride, strength, determination, interest and alertness were among the positive emotions most strongly elicited by the project. These emotions reflected students’ interest in learning about a new socio-scientific issue, and their enhanced feelings of self-efficacy in successfully writing hybridised scientific narratives in science. The results of this study suggest that the elicitation of positive emotional responses as students engage in hybridised writing about SSI with strong links to environmental education, such as biosecurity, can be valuable in engaging students in education for sustainability.

Seeing a hard country : Lawrence’s Australian landscape

In 1944 Australian author Eleanor Dark wrote that Australia is a hard country for an outsider to see, citing, in evidence, the writing of the “strange, foreign-looking little man with the beard” -- the self-described by D. H. Lawrence. According to Dark, Lawrence was bewildered by Australia because what his eyes saw was not what they were accustomed to seeing. Kangaroo, she wrote, suggests one long, tormented effort to see. Lawrence appears, for Dark, to be half-blind, struggling, and irritated almost beyond belief with his visit to New South Wales. Eleanor Dark wrote this critique in 1944, long after Lawrence’s 1922 visit, but for her, as for other Australian writers, Kangaroo continued to register as an important book, even if the content rankled. Katharine Susannah Prichard and Christina Stead, both advocates in general of Lawrence, likewise rejected the tenor of Kangaroo, although Lawrence would not have been worried about the response. In 1929 he referred to his irritation with Australia in letters to P.R. “Inky” Stephensen, the Australian nationalist and publisher, and he does not seem to have changed his opinions since writing Kangaroo. Yet the novel continued to be significant for Australian writers, even if as a provocation. My discussion traces the responses of the women authors to Kangaroo, and refers to Lawrence’s letters to Stephensen, as a way of emphasizing this significance, seen especially in relation to ideas about ‘seeing’ and the Australian landscape.