Distracted : poetic interpretations of climate change

This paper introduces the creative work Distracted and discusses conceptual, aesthetic and technical aspects of the work. The work was conceived as a luminous, interactive, computational media installation informed by our interest in the Antarctica. Through the paper we focus on: how the work addresses the themes of climate change and sustainability; how we attempted to work with selected sets of scientific data to evoke the delicate yet extreme nature of the environment and the ways in which ice is a record of the earth’s geological history and recent human impacts; and how the process of making this artwork caused us to reconsider our practices and formulate strategies for redirecting our practice in a manner that addresses the challenges of sustainability.

Abstraction as noise : enhancing the poetic

Abstraction in its resistance to evident meaning has the capacity to interrupt or at least provide tools with which to question an overly compliant reception of the information to which we are subject. It does so by highlighting a latency or potentiality inherent in materiality that points to the possibility of a critical resistance to this ceaseless flow of sound/image/data. This resistance has been remarked on in differing ways by a number of commentators such as Lyotard, in his exploration of the avant-garde and the sublime for example. This joint paper will initially map the collaborative project by Daniel Mafe and Andrew Brown, Affecting Interference which conjoins painting with digital sound and animations into a single, large scale, immersive exhibition/installation. The work acts as an interstitial point between contrasting approaches to abstraction: the visual and aural, the digital and analogue. The paper will then explore the ramifications of this through the examination of abstraction as ‘noise’, that is as that raw inassimilable materiality, within which lays the creative possibility to forge and embrace the as-yet-unthought and almost-forgotten. It does so by establishing a space for a more poetic and slower paced critical engagement for the viewing and receiving information or data. This slowing of perception through the suspension of easy recognition runs counter to our current ‘high performance’ culture, and it’s requisite demand for speedy assimilation of content, representing instead the poetic encounter with a potentiality or latency inherent in the nameless particularity of that which is.

The disaster flood experience: Older people’s poetic voices of resilience

This paper explores the experiences of older community-dwelling Australians evacuated from their homes during the 2011 and 2013 Queensland floods, applying the novel creative methodology of poetic inquiry as an analysis and interpretative tool. As well as exploring how older adults managed during a natural disaster, the paper documents the process and potential of poetic inquiry in gerontological research. The first and second poems highlight the different social resources older people have to draw on in their lives, especially during a crisis. Poem 1 (“Nobody came to help me”) illustrates how one older resident felt all alone during the flood, whereas Poem 2 (“They came from everywhere”), Poem 3 ("The Girls") and Poem 5 (“Man in Blue Shirt”) shows how supported – from both family and the wider community - other older residents felt. Poem 4 (“I can’t swim”) highlights one participant’s fear as the water rises. To date, few studies have explicitly explored older adult’s disaster experience, with this paper the first to utilise a poetic lens. We argue that poetic presentation enhances understanding of older residents’ unique experiences during a disaster, and may better engage a wider audience of policy-makers, practitioners, the general community and older people themselves in discussion about, and reflection on, the impact and experience of disasters.

Six Curses

This creative writing work was selected for publication in a bi-lingual anthology, published in China, as suitable to be culturally applicable to both Chinese and Australian social contexts. The poem raises six social/ethical issues and comments on them. It is based on research into Chinese traditional poetry that focuses on an image, and after each image this poem provides an ethical comment. It is based in the ethical hypothesis that moral evaluation of individual and social behaviour can not be achieved without ethical judgement which questions social norms. In particular, the poem questions the validity of fundamentalism – the belief in religious, scientific and moral absolutes. This is a key issue in contemporary research into the effect of religion on politics. It also draws on contemporary psychological theory, especially the concept of narcissism. The sociological basis of the work is in drawing parallels between eastern and western ethical issues, stressing similarity by inference. The imagery on which the poem is based selects objects such a single ‘stone’ that take on symbolic connotations common to both Australian and Chinese readers. This is innovative, since very little creative writing has been dome to address commonalities between Australian and Chinese ethical thinking, especially by adopting Chinese motifs.

The passionate critic

It's hard to be dispassionate about Reyner Banham. For me, and for the plethora of other people with strong opinions about Banham, his writing is compelling, and one’s connection to him as a figure quite personal. For me, frankly, he rocks. As a landscape architect, I gleaned most of my knowledge about Modern architecture from Banham. His Theory and Design in the First Machine Age, along with Rowe and Koetter’s Collage City and Venturi’s Complexity and Contradiction in Architecture were the most influential books in my library, by far. Later, as a budding “real scholar”, I was disappointed to find that, while these authors had serious credibility, the writings themselves were regarded as “polemical” – when in fact what I admired about them most was their ability and willingness to make rough groupings and gross generalizations, and to offer fickle opinions. It spoke to me of a real personal engagement and an active, participatory reading of the architectural culture they discussed. They were at their best in their witty, cutting, but generally pithy, creative prose, such as in Rowe’s extrapolation of the modern citizen as the latest “noble savage”, or Banham railing against conservative social advocates and their response to high density housing: “those who had just re-discovered ‘community’ in the slums would fear megastructure as much as any other kind of large-scale renewal program, and would see to it that the people were never ready.” Any reader of Banham will be able to find a gem that will relate, somehow, personally, to what they are doing right now. For Banham, it was all personal, and the gaps in his scholarship, rather, were the dispassionate places: “Such bias is essential – an unbiased historian is a pointless historian – because history is an essentially critical activity, a constant re-scrutiny and rearrangement of the profession.” Reyner Banham: Historian of the Immediate Future, Nigel Whiteley’s recent “intellectual biography” (the MIT Press, 2002), allowed me to revisit Banham’s passionate mode of criticism and to consider what his legacy might be. The book examines Banham’s body of work, grouped according to his various primary fascinations, as well as his relationship to contemporaneous theoretical movements, such as postmodernism. His mode of practice, as a kind of creative critic, is also considered in some depth. While there are points where the book delves into Banham’s personal life, on the whole Whiteley is very rigorous in considering and theorizing the work itself: more than 750 articles and twelve books. In academic terms, this is good practice. However, considering the entirely personal nature of Banham’s writing itself, this separation seems artificial. Banham, as he himself noted, “didn’t mind a gossip”, and often when reading the book I was curious about what was happening to him at the time. Banham’s was an amazing type of intellectual practice, and one that academics (a term he hated) could do well to learn from. While Whiteley spends a lot of time arguing for his practice to be regarded as such, and makes strong points about both the role of the critic, and the importance of journalism, rather than scholarly publishing, I found myself wondering what his study looked like. What books he had in his library. Did he smoke when he wrote? What sort of teaching load did he have? He is an inspiration to design writers and thinkers, and I, personally, wanted to know how he did it.

"Theatre of the dancing language" : new possibilities in contemporary Australian playwrighting

This study focuses on trends in contemporary Australian playwrighting, discussing recent investigations into the playwrighting process. The study analyses the current state of this country’s playwrighting industry, with a particular focus on programming trends since 1998. It seeks to explore the implications of this current theatrical climate, in particular the types of work most commonly being favoured for production. It argues that Australian plays are under-represented (compared to non-Australian plays) on ‘mainstream’ stages and that audiences might benefit from more challenging modes of writing than the popular three-act realist play models. The thesis argues that ‘New Lyricism’ might fill this position of offering an innovative Australian playwrighting mode. New Lyricism is characterised by a set of common aesthetics, including a non-linear narrative structure, a poetic use of language and magic realism. Several Australian playwrights who have adopted this mode of writing are identified and their works examined. The author’s play Floodlands is presented as a case study and the author’s creative process is examined in light of the published critical discussions about experimental playwriting work.

Distracted

Distracted is a luminous, interactive, computational media installation of sound, light and translucent sculptural materials. The work is inspired by scientific ice core samples taken in Antarctica. The sculpture is capable of displaying data taken from these ice core samples, and responding to the proximity of an audience. Rather than simply using the interface as a didactic display device, we have chosen a more poetic approach of generating visual effects from the data that are evocative of the ice, fluids and the notion of change. The data has also been used in the composition of an evolving soundscape. As well as data from ice core samples, such as the Vostok ice core, we have incorporated data from the Keeling Curve that shows the annual rise and fall of atmospheric carbon dioxide, following the pattern of the Northern Hemisphere winter. These effects combine with changes caused directly by audience members as they come within close proximity to the work.

From Sydney and Shanghai : Australian and Chinese women writing modernism

In the 1930s and 1940s, Australian women writers published novels, poems, and short stories that pushed the boundaries of their national literary culture. From their position in the Pacific, they entered into a dialogue with a European modernism that they reworked to invigorate their own writing and to make cross-continental connections. My interest in the work of Australian women prose writers of this period stems from an appreciation of the extent of their engagement with interwar modernism (an engagement that is generally under-acknowledged) and the realization that there are commonalities of approach with the ways in which contemporaneous Chinese authors negotiated this transnational cultural traffic. China and Australia, it has been argued, share an imaginative and literal association of many centuries, and this psychic history produces a situation in which ‘Australians feel drawn towards China: they cannot leave it alone.’1 Equally, Chinese exploration of the great southern land began in the fifteenth century, prior to European contact. In recent times, the intensity of Australia’s cultural and commercial connections with Asia has led to a repositioning of the Australian sense of regionalism in general and, in particular, has activated yet another stage in the history of its relationship with China. In this context, the association of Australian and Chinese writing is instructive because the commonalities of approach and areas of interest between certain authors indicate that Australian writers were not alone in either the content or style of their response to European modernism. This recognition, in turn, advances discussions of modernism in Australia and reveals an alternative way of looking at the world from the Pacific Rim through literature. The intent is to examine selective Australian and Chinese authors who are part of this continuous history and whose writing demonstrates common thematic and stylistic features via the vector of modernism. I focus on the 1930s and 1940s because these are the decades in which Australia and China experienced wideranging conflict in the Pacific, and it is significant that war, both forthcoming and actual, features as an ominous soundtrack in the writing of Chinese and Australian women. I argue that, given the immensity of cultural difference between Australia and China, there is an especially interesting juncture in the ways in which the authors interrogate modernist practices and the challenge of modernism. The process in which writing from the Pacific Rim jointly negotiates the twin desires of engaging with European literary form and representing one’s own culture may be seen as what Jessica Berman identifies as a geomodernism, one of the ‘new possible geographies’ of modernism.2 My discussion centres on the work of the Australian women, to which the Chinese material serves as a point of reference, albeit a critical one. The Chinese writing examined here is restricted to authors who wrote at least some material in English and whose work is available in translation.

The politics of literacy in David Almond and Dave McKean’s "The Savage" (2008)

Competency in language and literacy are central to contemporary debates about education in Anglophone nations around the world. This paper suggests that such debates are informing not just educational policy but children’s literature itself as can be seen in Almond and McKean’s The Savage. This hybrid text combines prose and graphic narrative and narration in order to tell the story of Blue, a young British boy negotiating his identity in the aftermath of his father's death. While foregrounding a narrative of ideal masculinity, The Savage enacts and privileges a formal and thematic ideal of literacy as index of individual agency and development. Almond and McKean produce a politicised understanding of language and literacy that simultaneously positions The Savage in a textual tradition of socio-culturally disenfranchised youth, and intervenes in that tradition to (perhaps ironically) affirm the very conditions previously critiqued by that very tradition. Where earlier authors such as Barry Hines sought to challenge normative accounts of language and literacy in order to indict educational policy and praxes, Almond and McKean work to naturalise the very logics of education and agency by which their protagonist has been disenfranchised. In doing so, The Savage exemplifies current approaches to education which claim to value social and cultural diversity while imposing national standardised testing predicated on assumptions about the legitimacy of uniform standards and definitions of literacy.

Dark humour invigorates familiar fables ; a review

THEATRE: Grimm Tales. By Carol Ann Duffy and Tim Supple. Queensland Theatre Company, Brisbane. November 16. QUEENSLAND Theatre Company concludes its season with Grimm Tales, Carol Ann Duffy and Tim Supple's adaptation of classic cautionary tales as set down by the Brothers Grimm in the 19th century. This programming decision is clearly designed to present fun family entertainment as Christmas approaches. In Grimm Tales, well-known stories such as Hansel and Gretel, Snow White and Rumpelstiltskin pack a little more punch than in your standard picture book. Duffy and Supple's play is by no means the sort of poetic, postmodern or politicised adaptation of the fairytale we see from writers such as Angela Carter, and it is not intended to be subversive or to question the social and gender assumptions that underpin the tales. Start of sidebar. Skip to end of sidebar. End of sidebar. Return to start of sidebar. Rather, a return to the grislier original incarnations of the tales - the wicked stepsisters who lop off parts of their feet to fit the slipper and win the prince, or the hare so confused by the hedgehog's stratagem to make him think he is losing the race, he runs himself to death - has a comic effect. In this production, directed by Michael Futcher, heightened performances from some of Brisbane's best comic and physical actors, live music and an open, acknowledged relationship with the audience establish the atmosphere for the piece. While the production is a little sombre and slow to start with the first tale, Hansel and Gretel, the knowingness and almost slapstick quality with which the cast plays out the gruesome, scatological or silly moments in the other tales are well pitched to carry the comedy. The action is supported by a fantastic set by Greg Clarke of wooden planked walls, stairs and walkways which, with the help of David Walter's lighting design, is transformed into forests, ballrooms and castles as the cast moves up, over and under it. The overall highlight is probably the cast Futcher has brought together. Established QTC actors Eugene Gilfedder, Lucas Stibbard and Scott Witt, and emerging QTC actor Melanie Zanetti, join Liz Buchanan, Dan Crestani and Emma Pursey, all well known for their independent work in Brisbane but making their mainstage debut for the QTC. Every one of them metamorphoses with ease from character to character, human to animal, and central player to support. There is nothing particularly new in Grimm Tales, and it doesn't try to do anything more (or, indeed, less) than entertain, but skilful direction and a strong cast ensure it succeeds on those terms.

Contemporary take on deconstructed Medea : a review

THEATRE: The New Dead: Medea Material. By Heiner Muller. Stella Electrika in association with La Boite Theatre Company, Brisbane, November 19. THERE has been a lot of intensity in independent theatre in Brisbane during the past year, as companies, production houses and producers have begun building new programs and platforms to support an expansion of pathways within the local theatre ecology. Audiences have been exposed to works signalling the diversity of what Brisbane theatre makers want to see on stage, from productions of new local and international pieces to new devised works, and the results of residencies and development programs. La Boite Theatre Company closes its inaugural indie season with a work that places it at the contemporary, experimental end of the spectrum. The New Dead: Medea Material is emerging director Kat Henry's interpretation of Heiner Muller's 1981 text Despoiled Shore Medea Material Landscape with Argonauts. Start of sidebar. Skip to end of sidebar. End of sidebar. Return to start of sidebar. Muller is known for his radical adaptations of historical dramas, from the Greeks to Shakespeare, and for deconstructed texts in which the characters - in this case, Medea - violently reject the familial, cultural and political roles society has laid out for them. Muller's combination of deconstructed characters, disconnected poetic language and constant references to aspects of popular culture and the Cold War politics he sought to abjure make his texts challenging to realise. The poetry entices but the density, together with the increasing distance of the Cold War politics in the texts, leaves contemporary directors with clear decisions to make about how to adapt these open texts. In The New Dead: Medea Material, Henry works with some interesting imagery and conceptual territory. Lucinda Shaw as Medea, Guy Webster as Jason and Kimie Tsukakoshi as King Creon's daughter Glauce, the woman for whom Jason forsakes his wife Medea, each reference different aspects of contemporary culture. Medea is a bitter, drunken, satin-gowned diva with bite; Jason - first seen lounging in front of the television with a beer in an image reminiscent of Sarah Kane's in-yer-face characterisation of Hippolytus in Phaedra's Love - has something of the rock star about him; and Glauce is a roller-skating, karaoke-singing, pole-dancing young temptress. The production is given a contemporary tone, dominated by Medea's twisted love and loss, rather than by any commentary on her circumstances. Its strength is the aesthetic Henry creates, supported by live electro-pop music, a band stage that stands as a metaphor for Jason's sea voyage, and multimedia that inserts images of the story unfolding beyond these characters' speeches as sorts of subconscious flashes. While Tsukakoshi is engaging throughout, there are moments when Shaw and Webster's performances - particularly in the songs - are diminished by a lack of clarity. The result is a piece that, while slightly lacking in its realisation at times, undoubtedly flags Henry's facility as an emerging director and what she wants to bring to the Brisbane theatre scene.

'In the hands of the Receivers': The Politics of Literacy in The Savage by David Almond and Dave McKean

David Almond and Dave McKean's The Savage is a hybrid prose and graphic novel which tells the story of one young man’s maturation through literacy. The protagonist learns to deal with the death of his father and his own 'savage' self by writing a graphic novel. This article reads The Savage in the context of earlier, 'Northern' literacy narrative - particularly Tony Harrison's poem "Them & [uz]" and Barry Hines' Kes — through the discourse of neoliberalism and the notion of the reluctant boy reader. It is suggested that Almond and McKean are influenced by currently dominant ideologies of gender and literacy.

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.

She who can, teaches

The following are real statements from real women taken from two surveys (2001, 2008). While they were all pre-service teachers training to teach specialist secondary IT or computer science subjects, some were straight from school while others were mature-age or career-change students. Some were questioning whether they should follow careers in the IT industry or should they continue into IT teaching. This is a poetic transcription of their voices.

What feels true? : sifting through belongings

This practice-led research project explores how, after a successful first experience writing a poetic solo theatre work derived largely from autobiography, I sought to find personal connection and satisfying ‘authenticity’ in the writing of a more difficult, nonautobiographical second work. Via reflections on practice, through an autoethnographic narrative, the project also evokes a practitioner’s struggle to self-educate, survive personal, life-changing loss, and manage heightened professional stakes. In doing so, it reveals essential lessons in acknowledging, accepting and following ‘what feels true’, to remember and consider in future writing.