Ma Ma Ma Mad

Ma Ma Ma Mad is an autobiographical work, written and performed by Singaporean-Australian theatre maker Merlynn Tong. This production, presented at the Brisbane Powerhouse in December 2015, was a multi-genre work incorporating aspects of Butoh, physical theatre, cabaret and contemporary monologue. More than an experiment in mixed performative forms, however, this particular production was also an exercise in inter-cultural collaboration as well as gender in (and of) performance. Heavily influenced by the creator's experiences growing up in urban Southeast Asia, the director's specialisation in contemporary Australian theatre and experience telling uniquely Australian stories worked to manipulate the form in an endeavour to succinctly speak to local audiences, without pandering to entrenched stereotypes or diluting the underlying Chinese-Singaporean themes. The success of this production was also somewhat of a personal challenge for the creatives, after being told by some of Brisbane's most influential theatre venues and festivals that they would rather not support the work because a) it was a one woman show, and b) it was a one woman show about an Asian woman; and therefore would not sell well. One very influential local producer even said that he already had a one-woman show about an Asian person programmed, so he couldn't possibly program another. Operating in such a biased and out-of-touch artistic environment was seen as an easy challenge for the artists involved, which resulted in a highly successful and critically acclaimed sell-out run of Ma Ma Ma Mad, followed by offers to tour the work nationally and internationally. As such, this production also stands as a practical example of the ingrained and patriarchal structures of the Australian arts scene, and how art can work to break down the very barriers that it has helped to construct through a lack of vision and diversity amongst its leaders.

Oh Holly, The Fish is Dead

From Kurt Vonnegut to Stephen King, many novelists use metanarrative techniques to insert fictional versions of themselves in the stories they tell. The function of deploying such techniques is often to draw attention to the liminal space between the fictional constructs inherent in the novel as a form, and the real world from which the constructs draw inspiration, and indeed, are read by an audience. For emerging writers working in short form narratives, however, the structural demands of the short story or flash fiction make the use of similar techniques problematic in the level of depth to which they can be deployed. ‘Oh Holly, the fish is dead’ is the fourth in a series of short stories that work to overcome the structural limitations of a succinct form by developing a fractured fictional version of the author over a number of pieces and published across a range of sites. The accumulative affect is a richer metanarrative textual arrangement that also allows for the individual short stories to function independently.

Swing Low

From Kurt Vonnegut to Stephen King, many novelists use metanarrative techniques to insert fictional versions of themselves in the stories they tell. The function of deploying such techniques is often to draw attention to the liminal space between the fictional constructs inherent in the novel as a form, and the real world from which the constructs draw inspiration, and indeed, are read by an audience. For emerging writers working in short form narratives, however, the structural demands of the short story or flash fiction make the use of similar techniques problematic in the level of depth to which they can be deployed. ‘Swing Low’ is the fifth in a series of short stories that work to overcome the structural limitations of a succinct form by developing a fractured fictional version of the author over a number of pieces and published across a range of sites. The accumulative affect is a richer metanarrative textual arrangement that also allows for the individual short stories to function independently.

Eating the Lonesome

From Kurt Vonnegut to Stephen King, many novelists use metanarrative techniques to insert fictional versions of themselves in the stories they tell. The function of deploying such techniques is often to draw attention to the liminal space between the fictional constructs inherent in the novel as a form, and the real world from which the constructs draw inspiration, and indeed, are read by an audience. For emerging writers working in short form narratives, however, the structural demands of the short story or flash fiction make the use of similar techniques problematic in the level of depth to which they can be deployed. ‘Eating The Lonesome’ is the sixth in a series of short stories that work to overcome the structural limitations of a succinct form by developing a fractured fictional version of the author over a number of pieces and published across a range of sites. The accumulative affect is a richer metanarrative textual arrangement that also allows for the individual short stories to function independently.

Captain Cook's country dance

James Cook was born into a working class family and rose to become a national hero, one of the greatest explorers of all time. He was celebrated in the popular culture through dance, music, song, and theatre. Today little is remembered of these highly esteemed works, although they remained well-known in the nineteenth-century.

The Art of Studio Teaching

This project began in 2013, with the award of an internal QUT Teaching and Learning grant. The task we wished to undertake was to document and better understand the role of studio teaching practice in the Creative Industries Faculty. While it was well understood that the Faculty had long used studio pedagogies as a key part of its teaching approach, organizational and other changes made it productive and timely to consider how the various study areas within the Faculty were approaching studio teaching. Chief among these changes were innovations in the use of technology in teaching, and at an organizational level the merging of what were once two schools within different faculties into a newly-structured Creative Industries Faculty. The new faculty consists of two schools, Media, Entertainment and Creative Art (MECA) and Design. We hoped to discover more about how studio techniques were developing alongside an ever-increasing number of options for content delivery, assessment, and interaction with students. And naturally we wanted to understand such developments across the broad range of nineteen study areas now part of the Creative Industries Faculty. This e-book represents the first part of our project, which in the main consisted in observing the teaching practices used in eight units across the Faculty, and then interviews with the unit coordinators involved. In choosing units, we opted for a broad opening definition of ‘studio’ to include not only traditional studios but also workshops and tutorials in which we could identify a component of studio teaching as enumerated by the Australian Learning and Teaching Council’s Studio Teaching Project: • A culture, a creative community created by a group of students and studio teachers working together for periods of time • A mode of teaching and learning where students and studio teachers interact in a creative and reflective process • A program of projects and activities where content is structured to enable ‘learning in action’ • A physical space or constructed environment in which the teaching and learning can take place (Source: http://www.studioteaching.org/?page=what_is_studio) The units we chose to observe, and which we hoped would represent something of the diversity of our study areas, were: • Dance Project 1 • Furniture Studies • Wearable Architecture • Fashion Design 4 • Industrial Design 6 • Advanced Writing Practice 3 • Introduction to Creative Writing • Studio Art Practice 2 Over the course of two semesters in 2013, we attended classes, presentations, and studio time in these units, and then conducted interviews that we felt would give further insight into both individual and discipline-specific approaches to studio pedagogies. We asked the same questions in each of the interviews: • Could you describe the main focus and aims of your unit? • How do you use studio time to achieve those aims? • Can you give us an example of the kind of activities you use in your studio teaching? • What does/do these example(s) achieve in terms of learning outcomes? • What, if any, is the role of technology in your studio teaching practice? • What do you consider distinctive about your approach to studio teaching, or the approach taken in your discipline area? The unit coordinators’ responses to these questions form some of the most interesting and valuable material in this book, and point to both consistencies in approach and teaching philosophies, as well as areas of difference. We believe that both can help to raise our critical awareness of studio teaching, and provide points of comparison for the future development of studio pedagogy in the Creative Industries. In each of the following pages, the interviews are placed alongside written descriptions of the units, their aims and outcomes, assessment models, and where possible photographs and video footage, as well as additional resources that may be useful to others engaged in studio teaching.

Editorial: Special Issue on Performing Arts

This special issue of the journal Performance Enhancement and Health has been produced to both showcase and further contribute to the growing literature on the unique and specialised field of the performing arts. Over the past two decades, the application of sports-based approaches to performance enhancement and health has grown exponentially in its application to the performing arts sector; however, whilst these two fields share many similarities including individuals working both physically and mentally for many years to be able to perform at their best in their chosen discipline (e.g., dance, music), significant differences exist...

Reengaging, reenacting and reenvisaging discourses of disaster through public space performance: Austerity, art, and the art of protest

This paper offers a mediation on disaster, recovery, resilience, and restoration of balance, in both a material and a metaphorical sense, when ‘disaster’ befalls not the body politic of the nation but the body personal. In the past few decades, of course, artists, activists and scholars have deliberately tried to avoid describing personal, physical and phenomenological experiences of the disabled body in terms of difficulty and disaster. This has been part of a political move, from a medical model, in which disability, disease and illness are positioned as personal catastrophes, to a social model, in which disability is positioned as a social construct that comes from systems, institutions and infrastructure designed to exclude different bodies. It is a move that is responsible for a certain discomfort people with disabilities, and artists with disabilities, today feel towards performances that deploy disability as a metaphor for disaster, from Hijikata, to Theatre Hora. In the past five years, though, this particular discourse has begun rising again, particularly as people with disabilities fact their own anything but natural disasters as a result of the austerity measures now widespread across the US, UK, Europe and elsewhere. Measures that threaten people’s ability to live, and take part in social and institutional life, in any meaningful way. Measures that, as artist Katherine Araniello notes, also bring additional difficulty, danger, and potential for disaster as they ripple outwards across the tides of familial ties, threatening family, friends, and careers who become bound up in the struggle to do more with less. In this paper, I consider how people with disabilities use performance, particularly public space interventionalist performance, to reengage, renact and reenvisage the discourse of national, economic, environmental or other forms of disaster, the need for austerity, the need to avoid providing people with support for desires and interests as well as basic daily needs, particularly when fraud and corruption is so right, and other such ideas that have become an all too unpleasant reality for many people. Performances, for instance, like Liz Crow’s Bedding Out, where she invited people into her bed – for people with disabilities a symbolic space, which necessarily becomes more a public living room restaurant, office and so forth than a private space when poor mobility means they spend much time it in – to talk about their lives, their difficulties, and dealing with austerity. Or, for instance, like the Bolshy Divas, who mimic public and political policy, reports and advertising paranoia to undermine their discourses about austerity. I examine the effects, politics and ethics of such interventions, including examination of the comparative effect of highly bodied interventions (like Crow’s) and highly disembodied interventions (like the Bolshy Diva’s) in discourses of difficulty, disaster and austerity on a range of target spectator communities.

Researching the 'reception' of indigenous affairs in Australia

The Reporting and Reception of Indigenous Issues in the Australian Media was a three year project financed by the Australian government through its Australian Research Council Large Grants Scheme and run by Professor John Hartley (of Murdoch and then Edith Cowan University, Western Australia). The purpose of the research was to map the ways in which indigeneity was constructed and circulated in Australia's mediasphere. The analysis of the 'reporting' element of the project was almost straightforward: a mixture of content analysis of a large number of items in the media, and detailed textual analysis of a smaller number of key texts. The discoveries were interesting - that when analysis approaches the media as a whole, rather than focussing exclusively on news or serious drama genres, then representation of indigeneity is not nearly as homogenous as has previously been assumed. And if researchers do not explicitly set out to uncover racism in every text, it is by no means guaranteed they will find it1. The question of how to approach the 'reception' of these issues - and particularly reception by indigenous Australians - proved to be a far more challenging one. In attempting to research this area, Hartley and I (working as a research assistant on the project) often found ourselves hampered by the axioms that underlie much media research. Traditionally, the 'reception' of media by indigenous people in Australia has been researched in ethnographic ways. This research repeatedly discovers that indigenous people in Australia are powerless in the face of new forms of media. Indigenous populations are represented as victims of aggressive and powerful intrusions: ‘What happens when a remote community is suddenly inundated by broadcast TV?’; ‘Overnight they will go from having no radio and television to being bombarded by three TV channels’; ‘The influence of film in an isolated, traditionally oriented Aboriginal community’2. This language of ‘influence’, ‘bombarded’, and ‘inundated’, presents metaphors not just of war but of a war being lost. It tells of an unequal struggle, of a more powerful force impinging upon a weaker one. What else could be the relationship of an Aboriginal audience to something which is ‘bombarding’ them? Or by which they are ‘inundated’? This attitude might best be summed up by the title of an article by Elihu Katz: ‘Can authentic cultures survive new media?’3. In such writing, there is little sense that what is being addressed might be seen as a series of discursive encounters, negotiations and acts of meaning-making in which indigenous people — communities and audiences —might be productive. Certainly, the points of concern in this type of writing are important. The question of what happens when a new communication medium is summarily introduced to a culture is certainly an important one. But the language used to describe this interaction is a misleading one. And it is noticeable that such writing is fascinated with the relationship of only traditionally-oriented Aboriginal communities to the media of mass communication.

Indigenous Voice : a work-integrated learning case study in journalism education

The continuing stereotypical coverage of Inigenous affairs in the Australian media suggests that journalists are still finding it difficult to come to terms with more effective ways ofm reporting such issues. The many hundreds of students who graduate from journalism programs across Australia represent an opportunity to at least challenge the predominant methods and strategies. But how prepared are journalism graduates for working with Indigenous issues? This paper explores the processas involved in an intensive reporting practices course held at the University of Queensland mid-2009. The course aimed to raise journalism student's awareness of some of the issues involved as well as enabling them to interact and work with personnel from the Brisbane Indigenous Media Community, 98.9 fm, the National Indigenous Radio Service, SBS and the ABC. The findings suggest that such structured programs have a significant impact on changing student's perceptions of, and approaches to, their role and journalists.

“We eat more than kangaroo tail or dugong you know…” : recent indigenous Australian cookbooks

This paper focuses on a series of cookbooks published by Indigenous Australian groups. These cookbooks are typically produced with government funding, and are developed by nutritionists, dieticians, and health workers in consultation with local communities. They are designed to teach Indigenous Australians to cook healthy, nutritious, low-cost meals. In this paper, Fredericks and Anderson identify the value of these cookbooks as low-cost, public health interventions. However, they note that their value as health interventions has not been tested. Fredericks and Anderson question the value of these cookbooks within the broader context of the health disadvantage faced by Indigenous Australians. They argue that the cookbooks are developed from a Western perspective of health and nutrition that fails to recognise the value of traditional Indigenous foodways. They suggest that incorporating more Indigenous food knowledge and food-related traditions into cookbooks may be one way of improving health among Indigenous peoples and revitalising Indigenous knowledge.

Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander cookbooks : promoting Indigenous foodways or reinforcing Western traditions?

This article examines the recent emergence of cookbooks written for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people in Australia. The cookbooks are health promotion initiatives, developed through a desire to improve the health status of Indigenous Australians. They focus on nutritious, family meals that can be cooked on a low budget. In this article, the authors argue that the cookbooks designed for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people are developed within a Western paradigm of health and nutrition that subtly reinforces Western approaches to food and disregards traditional diets. While the authors recognize the value of the cookbooks as health promotion tools, they suggest that cookbooks centred around Indigenous foodways – with a focus on traditional ingredients and traditional cooking methods – may be more appropriate for improving the health of Indigenous people and helping Indigenous cultures to thrive. They advocate for a decolonizing approach to food and nutrition, that specifically promotes Indigenous traditions and culture, and incorporates traditional foodways into modern recipes.

Co-creative media in remote Indigenous communities

This paper examines co-creative video outputs that have originated from, or relate to, remote Indigenous communities in Australia. Scholarly work on remote media has mostly operated at the interface of media studies and anthropology, seeking to identify how cultural systems shape the production, distribution and reception of media in Aboriginal communities. This paper looks instead at content themes, funding sources and institutions during the 2010-2013 period, and examines the factors that may be determining the quantity of co-creative outputs, as well as the types of stories that get produced. I argue that the focus on culture has obscured important shifts in remote media policy and funding, including a trend towards content designed to address social disadvantage.

Engaging creativity through an action learning and action research process to develop an Indigenous art exhibition

In most art exhibitions, the creative part of the exhibition is assumed to be the artworks on display. But for the Capricornia Arts Mob’s first collective art exhibition in Rockhampton during NAIDOC Week in 2012, the process of developing the exhibition became the focus of creative action learning and action research. In working together to produce a multi-media exhibition, we learned about the collaborative processes and time required to develop a combined exhibition. We applied Indigenous ways of working – including yarning, cultural respect, cultural protocols, mentoring young people, providing a culturally safe working environment and sharing both time and food – to develop our first collective art exhibition. We developed a process that allowed us to ask deep questions, engage in a joint journey of learning, and develop our collective story. This paper explores the processes that the Capricornia Arts Mob used to develop the exhibition for NAIDOC 2012.

Earth song as storywork: Reclaiming Indigenous knowledges

Is it possible for Indigenous ways of knowing, which draw on earth song and storywork, to find a place within the academy? Indigenous peoples recognise that the earth has a song, which we can listen to as story. In return, we can sing our story to the world and of the world. In this paper, the authors explore their own stories and songs. They explain the ways that listening to the earth’s song and working with stories can inform their work in the academy – as teachers who support younglings to hear their voices and develop their own songs, and as the writers and tellers of curriculum. The authors ask whether it is possible for Indigenous academics to combine their academic work with Indigenous ways of knowing. They argue that, not only is the combination possible, it can be used to create a harmonious voice that will help them to reclaim their power as Indigenous academic women.