https://islandsofhope.cargo.site Islands of Hope and Care Sat, 28 Aug 2021 23:27:11 +0000 https://islandsofhope.cargo.site en https://islandsofhope.cargo.site/Desktop Thu, 26 Aug 2021 22:27:02 +0000 Islands of Hope and Care https://islandsofhope.cargo.site/Desktop Welcome to Islands of Hope and Care.&nbsp; This is a masters portfolio by Nisha Madhan for the University of Auckland. Each icon here is an island for you to rest on.&nbsp; You can chose what order to experience them in. Click an icon to begin.&nbsp; To return home, click the palm tree at the top. <img width="800" height="648" width_o="800" height_o="648" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/98dbb9064f4684fbc3feac6b8a5204d0f7396641a5b715e85d53ce3a8989e0db/folder.png" data-mid="117418772" border="0" alt="Fuck Rant Transcribed" data-caption="Fuck Rant Transcribed" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/800/i/98dbb9064f4684fbc3feac6b8a5204d0f7396641a5b715e85d53ce3a8989e0db/folder.png" /> <img width="1354" height="1410" width_o="1354" height_o="1410" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/c11194ce4a5163d9a0fb78591d03b1a320bda05cbc3b7cdc0aa97f32ec1b1e2b/about3.png" data-mid="117418783" border="0" alt="library" data-caption="library" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/c11194ce4a5163d9a0fb78591d03b1a320bda05cbc3b7cdc0aa97f32ec1b1e2b/about3.png" /> <img width="1200" height="1800" width_o="1200" height_o="1800" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/179a5429b4a1301c7dd14643ea7eeb300dd5bee47fd98e21ce17588283195b29/60952981_1249720488520532_4085851991262101504_n.jpeg" data-mid="117431079" border="0" alt="ROFL" data-caption="ROFL" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/179a5429b4a1301c7dd14643ea7eeb300dd5bee47fd98e21ce17588283195b29/60952981_1249720488520532_4085851991262101504_n.jpeg" /> <img width="800" height="648" width_o="800" height_o="648" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/98dbb9064f4684fbc3feac6b8a5204d0f7396641a5b715e85d53ce3a8989e0db/folder.png" data-mid="117418772" border="0" alt="The Chant" data-caption="The Chant" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/800/i/98dbb9064f4684fbc3feac6b8a5204d0f7396641a5b715e85d53ce3a8989e0db/folder.png" /> <img width="800" height="800" width_o="800" height_o="800" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/5977cfeb322a47cb3f6167accb46f7d91624cb41258e4802b8706520c30d3bae/mac.png" data-mid="117418769" border="0" alt="Shoutouts" data-caption="Shoutouts" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/800/i/5977cfeb322a47cb3f6167accb46f7d91624cb41258e4802b8706520c30d3bae/mac.png" /> <img width="1024" height="1024" width_o="1024" height_o="1024" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/9f1d4e2f7ab29647f9ed02e4ba06b6333065a6ed4f6da7680a48e32200fdf7ff/tools.png" data-mid="117418778" border="0" alt="time_space_power" data-caption="time_space_power" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/9f1d4e2f7ab29647f9ed02e4ba06b6333065a6ed4f6da7680a48e32200fdf7ff/tools.png" /> <img width="1024" height="1024" width_o="1024" height_o="1024" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/bc0d3888a150de71b07d94bbe58c3ea19b280880238c7d8eb5a0a6495b8fe6a7/pc.png" data-mid="117418770" border="0" data-draggable alt="reasons_to_rest" data-caption="reasons_to_rest" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/bc0d3888a150de71b07d94bbe58c3ea19b280880238c7d8eb5a0a6495b8fe6a7/pc.png" /> <img width="1024" height="1024" width_o="1024" height_o="1024" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/3699d2b7284bb007d2ab15541ab20668a07fc39482db403c5942d6c8b7e6d7c2/pdf.png" data-mid="117418782" border="0" alt="Intention" data-caption="Intention" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/3699d2b7284bb007d2ab15541ab20668a07fc39482db403c5942d6c8b7e6d7c2/pdf.png" /> <img width="1200" height="1600" width_o="1200" height_o="1600" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/912b216e51d3fcab8053b64eb28f32ff9ef92d80c9c34cffff9e56f007bc1cc4/b61bbfdb-115c-4d7f-ba91-8abb882ae3db.JPG" data-mid="125368624" border="0" alt="under_the_light_of_a_full_moon" data-caption="under_the_light_of_a_full_moon" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/912b216e51d3fcab8053b64eb28f32ff9ef92d80c9c34cffff9e56f007bc1cc4/b61bbfdb-115c-4d7f-ba91-8abb882ae3db.JPG" /> &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Footage of the Ganga River, India &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; https://islandsofhope.cargo.site/Reasons-to-Rest Thu, 26 Aug 2021 22:27:05 +0000 Islands of Hope and Care https://islandsofhope.cargo.site/Reasons-to-Rest &nbsp;REASONS TO REST &nbsp; Resisting the Neo-liberal Rush to Digital I finished writing this essay on the morning of August 17th, 2021. By evening Tāmaki Makaurau was in a Level 4 lockdown due to the arrival of the Delta variant of the novel coronavirus. As I move to publish this, three months later, Auckland is still locked down and artists are in a more precarious position than ever before.It is incredible to live in a time where words become ghosts before they have had a chance to live. &gt;&gt;&gt; | &lt;&lt;&lt; Imagine the Future 5 years Wake up.The world is stark light. Art is sold alongside bottled water. 20 years Wake up. The world is stark light. Art is a rumour. People hoard water in tanks under their houses. 50 years&nbsp; Wake up. The world is stark light. Art is free. The world is an ocean. &gt;&gt;&gt; | &lt;&lt;&lt; This piece of writing began in a raw and simple format, as a blog post on April 1st, 20201, twenty days after entering into a lockdown. I chose to record it at the time because as we were plunged into an unparalleled level of digital second life, a fatigue from reading email after email from every single organisation I had ever visited settled over me. Emails with the same tone and the same amount of words: empathetic, sorry, yet hopeful. Almost over-caring blocks of text I could barely fit in my screen shaped eyeballs. I, too, was guilty of sending these emails to artists from my position as the programmer of Basement Theatre. So, I stopped. Instead, I spoke out loud in a bid for relief, an alternative waveform, smoke signals to my fellow artists of colour - whose physical presence I was missing sorely. Eighteen months after entering into a lockdown, I am astounded by the resilience of the artists around me. And I am pissed off at the arts sector (of which I am a very real part) that nothing seems to have changed. Following sector-wide conversations on how the system was broken to begin with, governing arts structures seem to be merrily bouncing back to the neo-liberal rhythms of projected box office models and paying everyone in an arts organisation except the artist. I am in the privileged position of being able to create art and perform it live for audiences, as well being able to facilitate others to do the same. Still, I ineffectually cling to the smoke signals I sent at that time. If anything, the desire to see those signals received and answered has grown stronger. As writer Rosabel Tan says in her article, We Can Build A New Utopia: “We’re right to feel lucky. But we’re also right to want more.”2 This ‘call to rest’ is about art (of the live variety) and its relationship to digital spaces. It is also about the digital space and its relationship to artists of colour. About those&nbsp; artists of colour and their relationship to living in, under and through, various lenses, from colonial to patriarchal. (Though, can those lenses ever really be separated?) What happens when neo-liberalism chooses your rhythm for you? How did we end up stuck on an internal treadmill of productivity? And how might we go about stepping off without feeling a devastating amount of guilt? Neo-liberal structures that fail artists, especially artists of colour, in the physical world continue to fail them in the digital world - and will keep failing them unless power and privilege are examined at every level. What if, instead of rushing to a digital solution for the future of live performance, we took time to break down the economic and bureaucratic structures that house art in Aotearoa and ask these two questions: Are we simply repeating harmful structures and rhythms online? And what would it be like, in the wake of the Covid-19 pandemic, to rest and allow for a slow, gentle evolution of live performance to unfold - while paying utmost attention to the safety of QTBIPOC artists? Stop. <img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/zU6RKLyVJxUiZwYWMud83awJlFp18uQsvnwDwoYLfb6Pqw-NF-8kAZbtxkceYf4c5P2AzLd5ZyZDWyNreNWX9WK1DnLme21jcd1P9DHLKixkdPEIXDGL5pm-DTytscNvrgFCeKH5=s0" width="352" height="528" style="width: 352px; height: 528px;" data-caption="Basement Theatre Closure, 2020. " data-scale="76"> Basement Theatre Closure, 2020. Digital image. Facebook. Accessed August 22, 2021. facebook.com/wearethebasement Basement Theatre is a small, independent arts organisation and venue that sits at the deepest part of what used to be a significant stream in Tāmaki Makaurau, Aotearoa, called Te Waihoritiu. This stream was part of the 3000 acres of land gifted by Chief Apihai Te Kawau of Ngati Whatua to Governor Hobson in 1833 to create the city of Auckland. This gift was not used in the spirit with which it was given. It used to be wetlands. Now it is stolen land. In bricks and mortar, the building is home to a boutique bar and two flexible performance spaces used by independent live performance makers in Tāmaki Makaurau. It hosts around 100 events, involving close to 500 artists, each year. My job is to take care of them.&nbsp; On Friday 20th March 2020, five days before entering into a lockdown, the roller door of Basement Theatre was shut and locked to the public indefinitely. As the programmer of the venue, I had roughly 50 out of the expected 500 artists that year at Basement Theatre under my care. I needed to communicate with them, in myriad ways, that a worldwide outbreak of a virus meant that their performances were cancelled and the building needed to be shut. I say ‘myriad’ because one blanket can’t cover everyone (also: some people don’t like blankets; others need five) and only a person with blanket privilege would assume that the un-blanketed would need or want one. I wanted to make sure that those artists had means to access some money, that they felt cared for, that they felt hopeful, and that they didn’t give up on a way of life that was already difficult to live. In 2019, twelve months before entering into a lockdown, the median personal annual income for an artist in Aotearoa was $35,800 ($15,000, if you take away any other income sources)3. Artists live a high-risk life in the wage margins and spend most of their time proving that their choice of career is both valid and useful within the world. So, when a global pandemic puts a stop to all ‘non-essential’ services and requires the shutdown of the businesses that make the arts possible, you don’t need to stretch far to imagine the spike of self-doubt activated in an already fragile and volatile industry. My first instinct, like that of many, was to encourage artists to throw everything they had online. Live stream; YouTube; Instagram; Zoom; whatever it was, they needed to get it set up as soon as possible and stay relevant to a society that already had suspicions about the artist’s purpose long before the COVID-19 pandemic. Theatre is a form that relies upon human beings together in proximity. It could not, would not, simply lie down and take this burn to its pride. The artform was haemorrhaging and needed a nurse. I thought hard and quickly, but ultimately failed to instantly provide a digital lifeline for our artists, because as a third of the world found itself in lockdown, the internet felt like a problematic place to be. I’m a dedicated scroller of Instagram, a flipper of stories, and a dopamine hunter on Facebook. These are places I generally go to to connect with other POC and revel in my particular algorithms. These algorithms (which I imagine are snakes who are very good at maths) make sure I see other POC faces, bodies, anger, protests,&nbsp; simply framed Audre Lorde quotes offering love and hope and safety. But on Friday March 20th, 2020, I felt less safe. The space for me to exist, to express the complex relationship between race, gender, art, and a global pandemic closed sharply around me. I was physically cut off from safety networks and the amount of xenophobes, mansplainers, and white feminists online had just tripled. As I scrolled through my newly disrupted algorithms, fending off beautifully appropriated lockdown online yoga practises online via the homogenous insta frames – the internet suddenly felt very crowded. Prophets. Digital artist/thinker/philosopher James Bridle, in his online address ‘Other Intelligences’4 talks about the idea that algorithms were invented to predict things like the weather. Over time, our dependence on digital fortune tellers grew so strong that we now willingly put our trust in digital maps to tell us where and when to turn next. This technology lulls us into following it blindly, while making us feel as if we were in control all along. His alarming use of ‘Death by GPS’ as an example of this trust is a bleak and comic reminder that machines are not perfect. <img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/mTjTUpJIgzlYaXrgsjZhiAKuyQsVvomie5jBmGH4wiDSnqN3b3V73sieAZllCX-BaC6KJASeDnG5yyV3IzORuqS-0tTqf9UOEUheGjj-GFeuZekXAXQB2hk4yMVuLymDJ3YBr5jy=s0" width="624" height="468" style="width: 624px; height: 468px;"> Donna Cooper and family, lost for 3 days in Death Valley.&nbsp; Digital Image. Accessed August 22, 2021. NPR. npr.org ‘Death by GPS’ is the term park rangers in the United States use when people follow the little blue dot on their GPS without doubt and end up driving to places that they should not be. They may end up at dead ends, lost in Death Valley; or slowly sinking in the middle of a river, with desperate calls for help written in the dust of their windows. ‘Death by GPS’ is what happens when common sense is outsourced to technology. Rather than spending time using GPS in relationship with brains, bodies and navigational instincts; victims of this conundrum choose the easy route, one that reinforces a belief “that technology has better answers for us even if the result of that is driving into a lake.”5 When it comes to art and privilege, I am most interested in Bridle’s idea that prediction is bound up with power and control. Algorithms are mathematical formulas that predict patterns. Once that pattern is known, control can be exercised upon it. Preparations can be made for an incoming storm; products can be advertised based on your menstrual cycle. The worst of this control through prediction: those snakey algorithms trained to slither after attention and money via clickbait articles. Attention hungry, dopamine-filled clicks that lead to extremist content; extremist content that leads to “conspiracy theories, junk science, pseudo science, racism and misogyny.”6 Social spaces of the internet, coupled with clickbait, have exponentially sped up the process of individual radicalization (and radical individualism). It doesn’t take long for a person to venture down the left hand side of one argument, only to find themselves being seduced by the right. Less than six months after entering into a lockdown, we see this play out in the rise of a bogus far-right conspiracy network called QAnon.&nbsp; On January 6th, 2021, eight months and twelve days after entering into a lockdown, this network storms the gates of the United States Capitol.&nbsp; <img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/jzb7-zb9dx6BFAz_ykDiLE-ZYw44NZElWUnIx0RjrNiQ60HkzDxbAIU2FyypL1sZTeUYJ7fAruksOC4njHcpkdQbE9bWSyeiKDNrCRyJfsh_JYfzbm-SprxDMBE8a63GKqh0yLwK=s0" width="624" height="416" style="width: 624px; height: 416px;"> The storming of The Capitol, 2021.&nbsp; Accessed August 22, 2021. Vanity Fair. vanityfair.com Bridle points out that it is not so much the predictions or the technology you have to be careful of, it’s about who uses it and to what end.&nbsp; Putting all of our effort into digital technology as having the means to “save us or bring us together in some more equitable or just world” implies that “there is one future that we’re all heading towards... if only we had the right maths we’d figure it out. Also it says that whoever has that maths will control that future.”7 As an artist of colour, I can't help but give the side eye to the Western pantheon of classic storytelling to find the voices who have long been in control of the maths behind who we should and should not believe. Prophets in classical literature tend to be shown as weak and feeble, or borderline hysterical.&nbsp; Calpurnia turns up for all of two scenes in Julius Caesar, begging him to listen to her, Cassandra is punished by Zeus never to be believed.&nbsp; To have the ability to predict the future surely is witchcraft, troubling and threatening, unless that ability is encased in something considered to be of lower status than a powerful white man. There are many instances of the punishment of women for speaking up, for example, through the myths of the Greeks and Romans. Mary Beard’s Power and Women is an excellent collection of these moments: Penelope being sent to her bedroom by her young son for speaking in public, Io being turned into a mooing cow by the God Jupiter. These punishments are fixated on lowering the status of women, softening their state, domesticating their activities deeming whatever power they have left in the world useless. It is as if to say, if we are going to listen to the witchcraft of prediction, it must come to us in a non-threatening form, through the dulcet tones of Alexa or Siri, trapped in their machines, unable to access freedom and agency. It must be outside us, in something we believe to be either lesser than us or objectively neutral. How eerie then to think of the revenge played our by our ignored Grecian prophets, innocently leading us into Arizona deserts and rivers through digital maps that have yet to be updated. <img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/nW5zQpSl3veSF33xc_imrhvE76VOGmiz2ggCCk28OT3Rak9p-6yQQkeYVpb0XIMg6yxrg4VxnEZ2loJsKoURs3GpsJBexNBFNOCFOtoXbjp5igOJWyB4ifZmAjMKkgr8CeUTuq0n=s0" width="624" height="415" style="width: 624px; height: 415px;"> Cassandra, by Anthony Frederick Augustus Sandys.&nbsp; Accessed August 22, 2021. Fictionphile. fictionphile.com Look Up. It’s not about eradicating this technology; after all “we are here, right now, in this moment, talking to each other across the most extraordinary assemblage that humanity has ever put together.”8 What if, instead of thinking in an either-you're-with-us-or-against-us way, we concentrate on rethinking how technology works and who it is directed at. Bridle gives the beautiful example of the better than Hubbard-esque satellite built by the National Geo-Spatial Intelligence Agency (an organisation that specialises in giving advantages to policy makers and warfighters). This satellite was gifted to NASA after finding it surplus to requirements and NASA promptly turned it upside down. What began life as an agent of destruction, looking at the ground on behalf of its operators in order to annihilate life, has now been repurposed to look for new planets, stars and galaxies instead. A hopeful example as we watch the last of the US troops leave Afghanistan leaving behind a 20 year trail of colonial clutter. Artists have a deep instinct for turning the world upside down. Through a residency at Basement Theatre, created in response to lockdown, artist Tru Paraha was given five months and a small stipend to continue her research in astro choreography and using the element of darkness. In Paraha’s art, the Māori concepts of Te Pō (the night) and Te Kore (the void) as choreo-spheres within which to practice movement, sound and post poetics. This highly experimental practice feels steeped in a return to indigenous star gazing, now commonly consumed in a largely digital experience of pop astrology. Paraha used the residency to dive into the deep south (a trip that was delayed several times because of various lockdowns) and stare at the southern sky, looking for patterns to glean knowledge of the world, just as their ancestors would have. It’s from stargazing that Māori developed navigation systems, and ways of predicting weather patterns for growing crops and cultivating the land. Over time through the brutality of colonisation, this practice would have been eradicated were it not for the strength of indigenous oral storytelling, myth and performance rituals. <img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/c1qoWPjf9FyfDar1FolzRonGAUdZp54EfkM6mGc2vLK0OfHo7ALM1UN-6JPgzG7PCDhRYGA7qA36cj5ug2srPou8oQmOd-iq3P_RGCRUDrEUim6F1vNeLMuY6QfouITtYs_qMBHI=s0" width="624" height="416" style="width: 624px; height: 416px;"> Stargazing in Lake Tekapo.&nbsp; Accessed August 22, 2021. Suzy Stories. suzystories.com For certain, there is technology involved in Paraha’s research, which was made in collaboration with noise artist, Beth Dawson aka Ducklingmonster.&nbsp; Dawson collected field recordings of soft mediums against hard surfaces, like water over stones, Te Waihoroitiu buried under the theatre, the wetlands that are now concrete. These sounds were layered to create an immersive environment and though the elements are liquid and solid, the effect is space and gas.&nbsp; Paraha meanwhile combined her naked eye stargazing with constellation mapping apps and state of the art binoculars. These two artists, much like the scientists at NASA, reprupose spy-style technologies (field recorders, satellite info, binoculars) not to gain war like advatanges, but to plunge their audience into darkness and suspend them in the cosmos. This residency was offered to artists as a pull against the rushing tide into digital space. Rather than focussing on displaying work outwards through any means possible, the proposal was made to take time, look inwards and rethink the opportunities handed over to artists and arts organizations in 2020. It was a maeuver used to provide slow and sustained support for artists to follow their bottomless instincts to relook at and remake the world around them. The question is not about whether or not to trust technology or digital spaces. The question is how can we build maneuvers to keep safe from an unstable and power-riddled network? Can we re-imagine the intended function of this space and think about who it is and is not directed at? Pivot Gate Up until Friday 20th March 2020, five days before entering into a lockdown, the online and digital life at its best was empowering. The internet made expression and community-building, especially for those who don't fit the mainstream, easy and free. Facebook and Instagram have made it simple for us to live as multiple versions of ourselves and artists can use this to set their own terms of how their art is made and distributed for little to no money. &nbsp; Young brown comedians like Janaye Henry (11K followers)9 or Sieni Leo’Olo (8K followers)10 barely need to step foot onstage at all; so strong are their digital followings they could run their entire careers from the comfort of their living rooms.&nbsp; No one can deny them the space they take up and although no one can stop the trollers in the comments, these two young women are able to dictate where, when and how they want to be seen. <img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/yRszC4bpSsbDDuDH7BmgrEGETmQJyHC6GIBTca7TJGYgOs2wpVv7XJx7E6G8M3v6vR2YEqHsaWnRd8zAEQBdVNetTTqaQ-PTNrXNc7VtVvnYcqC5F2EjrPLZSQSYodRi6Y5xWxiK=s0" width="577" height="408" style="width: 577px; height: 408px;"> Sieni Leo'o Olo, aka, Bubbah.&nbsp; Accessed August 22, 2021. Instagram. instagram.com/king.ulavale For a long while, feminist artists and artists of colour have used these spaces, not only to connect, but to innovate and develop their art. They have figured out a way to hack those systems that have denied them visibility in the physical world, using social media to distill the art of persona and political conversations to their advantage. By persona, I mean that stage (or digital) presence that allows for multiple versions of the self to be expressed through performance. These versions of self live within the artist, as opposed to a character written by someone else that the artist puts on themselves.&nbsp; A Facebook or Instagram profile is a persona - it is a performed part of yourself, one you feel happy conveying to the world. Your profile acts as your avatar with which you can join in the grand game networking across the world wide web. The ready-to-use frames of Instagram provide an instant platform for multi-disciplined artists to create a body of work that can sprawl sideways across various mediums. The luminous work of Pati Tyrell is a rich example of how queer, brown artists are experts at it. Alongside being the youngest artist to ever be nominated for Aoteoroa’s prestigious Walters Prize, his Instagram profile11 serves as an entirely accessible portrait gallery of queer, brown artists. Since 2013, seven years before entering into a lockdown, this&nbsp; profile has perfected the art of persona as a way to increase visibility for a marginalised group of people. In this world they are not marginalised, they are demigods blooming through onto your newsfeed, “creating new counternarratives, challenging the current ones”12 and interrupting your daily dose of influencer selfies. There is a freefall multiplicity to Tyrell’s portraits, offering the viewer palpable resistance to singular or binary notions of how it might feel to be brown and queer. Each persona stands alone and in relation to one another, epoxied by their relationship to Tyrell and separated only by the white grouting of Instagram’s tile-like layout. <img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/K7eKIy9QKh1WU49MyGcwv0GYUY_6dBw1Dv9GsG390QLZwlm-QyxL9W-iFoP2Daocs9OmbYxQPPE28AgKz6sHPevKzbLvFq9lLISP3kW0Secl-J17OAhNVUXIdgUit9p7pInC09us=s0" width="624" height="324" style="width: 624px; height: 324px;"> Pati Tyrell’s Instagram Profile. Digital Image. Accessed August 22, 2021. Instagram. instagram.com/patityrell On April 8th 2020, two weeks after entering into a lockdown, Pati and the collective FAFSWAG of which he is a co-founder will use their twitter account to talk about the politics of safety of the internet, a place they used since “day dot”13 to increase the visibility of brown, queer artists.&nbsp; <img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/PfPrPM6eR-YyN7XkQjkAR0i3Qc7RhU1QFqRa5LlxN2y6F0eb0Kce5zK1vQMNqjxSVR9xjoIwOihv7biworuKMYCSNq1kq2X3EkBRsqN705UQbGE7StIy5aIoCqZpJ1Ja-HYVqBeS=s0" width="342" height="171" style="width: 342px; height: 171px;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/QpHF6vykV4W2PTQ26PHufiNmHU954-JNG2DAG5m4KqF65TsPUgDUnQzOg-Bxd7ZrE-lcdFsayRzUXzTcl9uQfnK5tKznWBuMHX0J4e3FPwU1KUd2ycECQiXvDRiLvCUbCl_ycdWi=s0" width="344" height="263" style="width: 344px; height: 263px;"> FAFSWAG’s Twitter page. Digital Image. Accessed August 22, 2021. twitter. twitterm.com/FAFSWAG FAFSWAG had already been artistically hacking live and digital performance spaces before funding bodies started pressuring artists to pivot. Perhaps most notable is their collaboration with the digital experience design studio Resn through NZ On Air, which resulted in a website that tied interactive gaming and documentary narratives to tell their stories.14 Carved out years prior to this moment of digital panic for performance artists, this exhibition of digital performance prowess signals how ahead of the game this community was and is. To them, the idea of spidery, multiplicitous, artistic entry points is like breathing. It’s clear from their response that they are digitally fluent and are capable of choosing when an artwork is digital or live, and as a pioneering queer collective, hybridity is in their blood and bones. Those two worlds will inevitably meet, and looking at Tyrell’s use of persona and digital photography, and the gaming-documentary mashup that is fafswagvogue.com, they already have met. But have you ever tried to rush a queen onto a stage? You best back off until she is ready. &nbsp; Another pre-pandemic example of a digital persona based art hack is feminist performance artist, Vriginia Frankovich’s Instagram story take off of the Great Kiwi Bake Off.15 This series of short-lived Insta stories played out over the weeks the reality baking program screened in Aotearoa. In it, the stay at home mother and artist set every Bake Off challenge for herself at home while raising a newborn. The DIY attack on who gets to compete, critiques the blurry personal lines of art and life, while poking fun at and finding joy in the intrusive game of putting your life online.&nbsp; Casting herself as the hero of the everyday, mundane, repetitive existence of suburban family life, Frankovich triumphs over what a mother can and can’t achieve while breastfeeding.&nbsp; Complete with the subtle framing of her husband doing all the domestic chores in the background, while she doggedly pursues her star baker dreams, this super addictive kiwi piece of digital content set the perfect scene for a world wide flurry of sourdough converts and lockdown cinnamon bun tutorials.&nbsp; <img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/mNUnFA5CtDr4tOmwujdWtBofRccg3CwIGxm8DuxmzbkdMs76IMep7jFDf-ucqh3BhRgEyCKTI5GrtYIEuI8oTvc8NLi-H_tVFFeynuPM-OIQAQg-wSSjS2rrNbwmBjHBPSQgXPiW=s0" width="624" height="621" style="width: 624px; height: 621px;"> Virginia Frankovich, Broken Selfie. Digital Image. Accessed August 22, 2021. Instagram. instagram.com/virginiafrankovich It is Frankovich’s feminist sensibilties that led her to create her DIY toolbox of art hacks that side-step the need to rely on the arts industry to make it possible for her to be artist, mother, wife and feminist all at once.&nbsp; She takes matters into her own hands, her family become her co-stars, her followers become her audience and she alone decides the fate of her grand finale.&nbsp; Through a lifetime of struggling with and against the bind of being a feminist artist who is expected to put art before life, Frankovich has developed expert strategies to survive artistic life in lockdown.&nbsp; She also created a meaningful hybrid of performance and digital art, well before the Zoom play was invented. To simply replicate a performance on screen defeats the ability of live artists to create immediate connection through shared collective experience.&nbsp; That is not to say that performance cannot be translated online, but that like Frankovich, we may need to carefully consider the frames we use, or like Tyrell and FAFSWAG, consider the multiple layers through which it can speak.&nbsp; We may pause and ask if online is safe enough to hold the intellectual property of artists, especially artists caught in the everyday intersection of racism and sexism. These artworks also happened organically, without and in resistance to the systems that dictate how art is made in Aotearoa.&nbsp; No doubt, these kinds of examples continued through the lockdowns of 2020 and will continue into the future because artists who live in the intersections of oppressions will always hack a system to create their own. What happens though, when the system tries to appropriate those hacks to save itself? Through the pivot-gate of 2020, organisations encouraged digital pursuits so that their survival as businesses was safeguarded, but, as Tyrell and Frankovich have shown us, artists who live in the margins know how to survive already, digital strategy or not. Resist. If we are going continue the orchestration of a mass pivot on online, I would hope that it would be to intentionally create, as Rebecca Solnit writes, “new forms of resistance,”16 rather than a rinse-and-repeat of those systems that leave collectives of queer brown artists feeling unsafe; that leave a mother feeling divorced from the possibility of status, from being able to ‘have it all’. On Friday 20th March, 2020, five days before entering into a lockdown, my stomach is churning through acidic anxiety as theatres across the globe throw content online and artists live stream their lives from their bedrooms. The pressure to devise a strategy is mounting for Basement Theatre, the little organisation adrift on Te Waihoritiu stream, to create a new life as a digital ship for artists to step aboard. The acid churning in my stomach makes my heart burn. Every time I open social media, I am reminded of Laboria Cuboniks’ ‘The Xenofeminist Manifesto’ that “serious risks are built into these tools,” that they are prone to “imbalance, abuse and exploitation of the weak.”17&nbsp; Is throwing live performance online (especially from artists of colour), in a bid to save a fragile and ephemeral artform, really the wisest option? Granted, we need to be able to start somewhere, but is this digital void a safe space to fail amongst the swirl of ‘are the arts essential?’ debates? The fact that the question even needs to be asked is a signpost that the value of art (the importance of it) and the worth of art (the cost of it) are at odds with each other. Artists live in an inconsistent state: they are told they are valued, but not worth changing for. To be clear, the instruction during a lockdown is to close all non-essential businesses. Art doesn’t close in a lockdown. Only the structures that sell it to the public close in a lockdown, and those are the structures that require scrutiny if they want to be essential to artists and to the public they serve. Even at Basement Theatre, where things are fairly cheap, it’s still up to artists to find money and risk it in order to engage with the public. The organisation runs on a ‘risk share’ structure, a response to a need for artists to share risk with venues rather than carry it all themselves. It’s not the perfect solution to creating sustainable careers, but it is the best within the bunch of neoliberal options available here in Aotearoa. The building doesn't generate work, it is a shell that artists rent to fill with their wares.&nbsp; Sometimes people buy those wares, sometimes they do not. Either way, shared risk or not, the artist pays to put their wares on show. To put on a show (unpaid and excl. GST) at the Basement costs:&nbsp;20% of your ticket sales; a technical falt fee&nbsp;$125&nbsp; and $2.65 per ticket, sold at an average ticket price of $25.80. Say you sell 50% of your five night season (250 tickets out of a possible 500, without giving away any ‘complementaries’). You end up with $6450. Now, take away $662.50 in ticketing fees; the&nbsp;$125 flat technical fee; and $1290 20% venue hire fee and you end up with $4641.25. Now, imagine you have just you and your operator to pay from this figure as&nbsp; you have made, directed, performed, produced, and marketed the show yourself. Divided in half this now equals $2320.62. In Aotearoa, the average time spent to create a live show is four weeks, plus another week of performance.&nbsp; $2320.62, over five&nbsp;weeks (assuming you work a 40 hour week), equals 200 hours.Your profit share, and that of your operator, ends up being $11.60 per hour - as long as you can write, direct, perform, produce and market the show well enough to get 250 people along without spending any money on anything else. Perhaps you did the show naked, with no set. Perhaps. It’s possible. Now, imagine that you are in the midst of a global pandemic and that on top of this, you also need to convince your 250 strong audience not to watch ‘Tiger King’, but to tune into you, over Zoom, instead. Consider, as well, that the people inviting you to partake in this deal are paid a weekly wage well above $11.60 per hour. As a programmer my complicity in this consideration is palpable and uncomfortable; I cannot face simply moving this situation out of the physical and straight into digital. Our world feeds off capital, capital feeds off competition and it’s no different online. The pressure to provide experiences online for free is even greater than in real life. Online is an economically unstable space, leading to tricky forms of paid and unpaid labour. Artists operate in a world where “we pay a projector more to be in the room than a live person.”18&nbsp;With this devaluing of life so easily ignored when in the physical room, how can organisations expect that artists will be any safer in the snakey hands of capitalist algorithms? What this encouraged digital pivot relies upon is a “pathological obsession with productivity, which often makes [us] incapable of seeing the forest through the trees”.19&nbsp;This, surely, ought to be a red flag when the act of “making a thing hard to see is one of the ways in which power works.”20 Capitalism thrives on a thirst for production, and if we are to believe its godmother Ayn Rand’s claim of being “the only system that stood for man's right to his own mind, to his work, to his life, to his happiness, to himself,”21 then it’s no wonder that we consider that if we are not producing, we then only have ourselves to blame if we wind up unemployed, mentally ill, and unhappy. For a community already subject to this internal burn of self blame, the reinforcement of it via global “tragedies − particularly ones which threaten to destabilise whole sectors”22 is more than enough to bear. In the months after the 2020 lockdown, these internal rhythms were interrupted by a different kind of rush, one to ensure that artists received fair and equitable welfare. The New Zealand government made it possible for artists and independent contractors to apply for a subsidy of wages lost, based upon the estimated amount they would have made, to an average of $580 before tax per week. In an extraordinary act of kindness (or blindness?), Creative New Zealand deemed this amount unlivable&nbsp; and topped it up with a further $420.&nbsp; Interesting, considering the amount of work that arts structures in New Zealand actively encourage into taking place, based upon box office models that at a hopeful minimum leave an artist on&nbsp;$11.60 per hour. From the fortunate position of being strongly led through an elimination strategy in Aotearoa, Rosabel Tan’s prophecy that, “as we emerge from the pandemic, the temptation will be to claw back to how things were before” is now underway. While other parts of the world are still in the dark realities of lockdowns, Aotearoa is getting on with the business of filling up venues up with box office based activities. Independent artists are split and replicate themselves further, trying not to forget to have a digital plan in their back pockets, just in case a Delta variant pops up. This pivot is largely self motivated and self funded, as performance artists try to catch up with those who have been playing the digital art game for decades. I am not yet willing to predict, nor exercise power and control over, what this pandemic might mean for the future of live performance via the medium of the internet. The rules of this space seem far too dangerous, too wild west, for me. I watch as organisations and artists around the world try on this digital sweatshirt, one that seems a few sizes too big. It’s a struggle to make it fit, but I admire those that continue to pave the way for artists to continue their works as “architects of imagination, map-makers to the unknown.”23 Restand Refuse. Reflecting back on that heavy rush in 2020 - was the long-term digital game plan to survive and burn brightly for a few weeks? Was it to seize the moment when physical access to live performance was cut off to the privileged, the moment that we finally figured out how to open the arts up to everyone?&nbsp; What happened to those conversations about refusing to return to a system that was already broken?&nbsp; Live performance has been dealt a severe blow that it will need time to recover from. It relies upon the co-presence of living beings, and this fundamental contract has just had its force majeure clause triggered on a global scale. &nbsp; Lockdowns can have a guilty pleasure associated for those privileged enough to earn a weekly wage. They allow for slower rhythms of thinking, re-thinking, and changing. For artists, lockdowns can present an opportunity to refuse to play, to think about saying, “no”... as the work you have to do in order not to reproduce an inheritance”24 of undervalued labour. It is a chance to swim against the rip tide and apply pressure back to wage earners, forcing them to reckon with their culpability in enabling dangerous systems. Something happens when you slow down and refuse to keep up with those nagging neoliberal rhythms. You begin to look inward. And once the scene has been set for this, you begin to reimagine how you might use your skills to live better. You have no option left but to wrest away from those capitalist claims of your productivity being the measure of your happiness. Through rest and refusal, your worth and your value might have a chance to catch up to one another. What I hope for is that organisations will use this time to turn the patterns of a neo-liberal art market upside down, recognising this as a time to pay close attention to opportunities for long-lasting change. What might happen if all the care and worth that was afforded artists in the abundance of Covid-19 recovery and adaptation funding continued on, as the base level of artist care and sustainability?&nbsp; What if time was taken to understand how the digital network distributes power and who benefits from that distribution? Afterall, the internet is physical. Made of copper and wire, hardware and labour; these physical elements operate upon land. In Aotearoa, they operate on stolen land and we have not yet found a way to repair the physical damage of this knowledge. How can we “change the shape of the network”26 to behave differently? To acknowledge the innovative work that feminist, QTBIPOC artists have been creating in this space already? How can we use it to foster new kinds of intimacy, visibility, community, safety, to give land back? As the artist Fannie Sosa so clearly calls out:&nbsp;“Black folks and people of color are out making culture, like we always have been since times immemorial. But white supremacist patriarchal capitalism has upgraded itself and once again our cultural production is capitalised on, while our bodies, well-being and communities are still expendable. Consumerism from the other side of the barbed wired fence is extractivism. Extractivism - bottling the knowledge, without caring for the people, leaving holes in existence - is what white institutions are almost irredeemably built to perpetrate, unless they have a strong will, purposeful practice and vigilant understanding of redistribution, reparation and rest.” (Fannie Sosa, A White Institutions Guide to Welcoming Artists of Colour and Their Audiences)25 Today, on August 17th, 2021, nearly eighteen months after entering into a lockdown, the doors to the Basement Theatre are wide open. We continue down a road of risk share and box-office, and watch as artists contend with the same battles they always have. While digital outputs remain on the table, we have not become a platform for pivoting artists. The rush to digital has subsided to a hum heard in the background. The conversations about equity, safety and sustainability, too, have reduced to a hum in the background.&nbsp; COVID-19 hums at the borders. Algorithms keep a steady, attention-hungry pace. The refusal to return to a broken system is a failing one. Then again, I have always been a fan of failure as an anti-capitalist strategy, and it shouldn't be an artist's job to fix capitalism. Certainly not for $11.60 an hour. The neo-liberal world is built to scare us into staying on the hamster wheel and into believing that it is our choice to do so. The most inflammatory action you can take is to stop and rest in a world that is built to rush you into the arms of something you don’t fully trust.&nbsp; My hope for artists is this:&nbsp; Do nothing. Rest. Be gentle. Lean away. Right away.&nbsp; Allow time to do its work. Stare at the stars. And if you have to do something. Do it in the physical world. In the place that you know.&nbsp;For the people that you love. Do it for real. &nbsp; Turn it upside down.&nbsp; Just for you. And no one else. &gt;&gt;&gt; | &lt;&lt;&lt; Imagine the Future 5 years 20 years 50 years. Wake up. The world is stark light. Art is free. The world is an ocean. &gt;&gt;&gt; | &lt;&lt;&lt; 1&nbsp;Madhan, “LIVE (Why I’m Not In A Hurry)” 2&nbsp;Tan. “We Can Build A New Utopia.” 3&nbsp;Creative New Zealand. “Research reflects significant challenges of making a living as a creative professional in Aotearoa.” 4 - 8 Bridle. Other Intelligences // Spy on Me #2 Online Programme 9&nbsp;Henry (@janayeh). “She/her🌈 Māori 🍃 a bloody DELIGHT.” 10&nbsp;Leo’o Olo (@king.ulavale). “Haha shame, made you look” 11&nbsp;Tyrell (@patityrell). “Photographer | Performance Cofounder @FAFSWAG | Laureate 2020 Queer Pasifika 🌊🌺✨.” 12 Page. “Meet the next generation of NZ's top artists.”&nbsp; 13&nbsp;FAF SWAG (@FAFSWAG). “The silent pressure and unspoken expectation of our industry…” 14&nbsp;FAFSWAG. "FAFSWAG Vogue." 15&nbsp;Frankovich (@virginiafrankovich). "broken selfie, 2019." 16&nbsp;Solnit, Hope In The Dark, 12. 17&nbsp;Cuboniks, The Xenofeminist Manifesto: A Politics for Alienation, 17. 18&nbsp;Tan (quoting Randerson, Jo). “We Can Build A New Utopia.” 19&nbsp;Warnecke. "Art and performance during the time of COVID-19 lockdown," 145-147 20&nbsp;Bridle. Other Intelligences // Spy on Me #2 Online Programme 21 Rand. Capitalism, The Unknown Ideal, 176 22&nbsp;Warnecke. "Art and performance during the time of COVID-19 lockdown," 145-147 23&nbsp;Tan. “We Can Build A New Utopia.” 24&nbsp;Ahmed. "Refusal, Resignation and Complaint. 25 Sosa. A White Institutions Guid To Welcoming Artists of Colour and Their Audiences // The WIG 26 Bridle. Other Intelligences // Spy on Me #2 Online Programme https://islandsofhope.cargo.site/Time-Space-and-Power Thu, 26 Aug 2021 22:27:06 +0000 Islands of Hope and Care https://islandsofhope.cargo.site/Time-Space-and-Power TIME SPACE POWERLive art in Tāmaki Makaurau An immigrant artform “Live Art” is a term that was created in the United Kingdom and formalised through the creation of the Live Art Development Agency (LADA) in 19991.&nbsp; It is used to define performance work that happens outside of mainstream performance practices and, like the performance art movement in the United States in the 1960s, gives artists the space to allow their piece of art to unfold directly in front of an audience in real time and space2.&nbsp; It describes a specific type of art that is not defined by artistic discipline, i.e. theatre, dance, visual art etc, and doesn’t play by the rules of linear thinking, storytelling or philosophy.&nbsp; It is art that places the encounter between the performer and her audience at the very centre of the experience, and through this exchange, lends itself toward exposing power relationships between people, places and things.3 &nbsp; I found out about live art in 2010, through a book lying about in a shared apartment in Brussels, Belgium called LIVE: Art and Performance.4 It was made as a companion to a programme of performance held at Tate Modern, London, in 2004 called Live Culture.&nbsp; I had recently escaped a long-term television soap opera contract playing a stereotypical Indian character, and this trip was my antidote to three years of living in the mainstream public eye. I chose Brussels because it was known amongst my artistic peers as a centre of experimental art and so I lived there for six months indulging myself in as many alternative arty experiences as I could.&nbsp; A common talking point amongst artists in Brussels was that its large POC immigrant population, its complex history with English, Flemish and French languages, and its reckoning with its bloody, colonial past, is what led to the city being a go-to spot for art that leaned away from language-based performance.&nbsp; The city was full of art that was abstract, emotional and politically charged.&nbsp; As someone who began my life outside of my homeland, India, as an immigrant in Qatar before settling in Aotearoa, this felt relatable in a way I hadn’t experienced before.&nbsp; There were very few plays on offer in Aoteaoroa in the 2010’s that told histories of immigration or colonialism in anything other than exoticized costumes, or through a white and patriarchal lens. What was on offer in Brussels were performances that reflected the contemporary experience of living marginally, performances that reclaimed histories, and leaned into the messiness of being a modern and multifaceted world citizen.&nbsp; These performances moved beyond what spoken language could offer them, making use of bodies, space, time and power relationships as their primary sources of storytelling.&nbsp; I wonder if it was this quality of being an artform capable of centering the immigrant or outsider experience, free from - or at the very least in debate with - the trappings of a colonial gaze, more than anything else that drew me to live art. As a practising artist and an immigrant with Indian ancestry, I employ live art to further my agenda of processing and healing from the ongoing effects that colonialism has had on me from an early age.&nbsp; I use it to help me meet the barriers between myself and the oppressive forces I live under.I notice that live artists around me, especially young, queer and POC artists, in Tāmaki Makaurau do this too (though some may not frame their work as “live art”).&nbsp; They use this multi dimensional art form to scale the walls between them, the world and others.&nbsp; These are walls that are unseen but physically felt, walls of our bodies, walls of buildings, walls at the border, the walls between people. These walls take time to build and time to scale. They are walls that end up hardened when, as Sara Ahmed writes, “history becomes concrete.”5&nbsp; &nbsp; Live art carries with it a sense of the elite of high-end, avant garde, experimental art and to this I call bluff. This is a cloak of superiority that has helped the border walls of this artform seem too high for QTBIPOC artists to climb, but as I have set down already, this form flourished in the hands of those who are made to feel that they do not fit. It is more useful for, and often best employed by the historically othered amongst us, than it is for those born into privilege. I offer the following text to young artists who are drawn to alternative ways of telling their stories through performance.&nbsp; I hope it can be used as a picture of what live art can do to help unbind yourself from your oppressors and as an island for you to rest upon. One that can assure you, that no matter your background, class or status, you are probably already a live artist, it's just a matter of how you look at it. Conditional Ties Live art feels relatively new in Aotearoa.&nbsp; It is largely unknown as an artform, with the first instance of it being recognised as a category of performance at the Auckland Fringe Festival in 2017 through creating a “Best Contemporary Performance &amp; Live Art” award6.&nbsp; Before then, art that might fall into this category was largely talked about as devised, new performance, multi-disciplinary or interdisciplinary.&nbsp; But just as many examples of live art worldwide have been labelled ‘live art’&nbsp; years after they have happened, it has been practiced in Aotearoa for much longer than we might realise. In Aotearoa, it can be traced back to groups like Red Mole, the anarchic travelling troupe of multi-talented actors, musicians and poets established by Alan Brunton and Sally Rodwell in 1974. They saw themselves as completely original, a group that “shouldn't have any conditional ties to anywhere else, particularly England,”7 but were certainly aware of being influenced by the “incredible rise of street theatre in the US.”8 Red Mole had a style that was highly visual and strongly physical, often employing costume and mask to their extremes.&nbsp; They positioned themselves as outsiders, refusing to be limited by bricks and mortar, and resisting institutional life.&nbsp; They chose to travel and tour instead, giving them a versatile upper hand in staying “truly independent of all institutional structures and therefore able to comment from the outside.”9 Although Red Mole presented an unmistakably alternative performance landscape from the imported dramas of the time, the people involved and their training still lived within the walls of British and European styles of art like Commedia Dell'arte, and the French clowning techniques of Jacque LeCoq.&nbsp; All the while, artists of colour were continuing long-held traditions of using their bodies as sites of art and activism, whether it be through daring to speak their own language, or wearing their traditional garments out in public. Perhaps though, they were boxed in as being indigenous, Pasifika, immigrant or folk artists, rather than experimental, avant garde, or live artists. As far back as 1881, Indigenous people in Aotearoa have proved their expertise in bringing together their bodies, symbols, rituals and purpose through non-violent activism.&nbsp; Treated as outsiders on their homeland, Indigenous artists have long held instincts of how to use ritualistic action to assert their right to be seen and heard. I think of the children of Parihaka, sitting cross legged, white feathers in hand, in strong and peaceful protest, gazing directly in the eyes of their colonisers. This heart breaking image at once reminds me of the “calm, resourceful, altruistic, and creative,”10 ways in which the Indigenous people of Aotearoa show up&nbsp; in the face of the most violent of oppressors.&nbsp;* <img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/ndeTfeoBHrhqooAA96R3bjjYAsz9CL7IIyGh4qTGIPsdgVS0qpKgWHK2VwW-oUr1pTHsF3p_OOTblzENsurzaSZi3TM3VHr_9cuH5vdBMQ_MB-Q63bLsu4b4dKkPXA=s0" width="624" height="312" style="width: 624px; height: 312px;"> The Children of Parihaka. Digital image. Waatea News. Accessed August 22, 2021. .waateanews.com. Aoteroa knows activism, from Parihaka (1881), to Bastion Point (1977), the Springbok tour protests, captured on film by the pioneer, mana wahine, film maker Merata Mita, to the occupation of Ihumātau (2019).&nbsp;As live art bloomed in Europe, in 2005 during a Waitangi Tribunal hearing, Tuhoe activist Tame Iti took aim with a shotgun at a New Zealand flag (believed to be an Australian flag used as a substitute) and shot it. In an interview with Kim Hill in 2016, Iti shared how carefully this act was planned through days of wānanga prior to the event. “Shooting the flag was all about political theatre,” he says."How do you tell your story? How do you bring a hundred years of hatred of anger to that point? So it's not an academic thing, this is a real thing for us."12It must be said, that mana wāhine have (and continue) to be at the forefront of radical performance and activism. If an artist shares the lineage of Dame Whina Cooper, Te Whaea o te Motu (monther of the nation), who led the landmark hikoi in protest against the loss Māori land rights in 1975, resistance must be in their blood and bones.&nbsp; Present day performance artists follow in suit; Cat Ruka is yet to be stopped in her surgeon-like dissection of white supremacy from within arts structures; rapper, film maker, and writer Jessica Hansell, a.k.a. Coco Solid, uses any and every medium at her disposal to effortlessly (and hilariously) mark the effects of colonialism and class warfare. In Aotearoa, it is mana wāhine who have laid the grounds for others to use action, presence, and making art as lethal weapons against imperialism. Aotearoa’s Pasifika sisters are no less to blame as trail blazers of art activism. Art-anarchists like Rosana Raymond and Yuki Kiahara have spent their career engraving the politics of otherness into the art world. During the nineties and early 2000s, they heralded the coming of Pacific Peoples as artistic mavericks, all while being “unapologetically urban.”11If live art is a form that is used to resist mainstream ways of storytelling, then it makes sense that those who are born into resistance would excel at it.&nbsp; Despite centuries of coming up against the brick walls of colonialism, artists of colour continue to tread that thin line between art and activism. The feeling of the body, battered and bruised, sweaty and bloody, after repeatedly throwing yourself up against unchangeable surfaces is all too familiar to those who have been pushed to the outside of our society. From this position, it seems astonishing that the centre stages of live art in Aotearoa have been largely filled with white people of skinny proportions, when we have such rich “counter-stories” from our Indigenous and immigrant communities that in themselves “are powerful forms of resistance.”13 A Popular Example A seductive aspect of live art is its tendency towards a multiplicitous, magpie-esque existence and in this magpie-esque way, instead of trying to canvas all aspects of this form, I’d like to steal just a few elements that myself and other artists use as ways to scale those seemingly imperceptible walls around us.&nbsp; They are: our bodies and their personal history, the politics of time and space, and the unseen but undeniable space of power relations between a performer and her audience.14 &nbsp; These elements come from looking at the artform through a performance and theatre-heavy point of view, but the truth is that the roots of live art (in its Western understanding) lie in the visual art world.&nbsp; Many works cited in LIVE: Art and Performance, for example, are defined as live art many years after the fact. So it may be more useful to consider the term, live art, more as a lens through which you can interpret performance or ask questions of it, rather than a way in which to define a work’s legitimacy or claim to the label. <img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/P8tSVVC-Kxn3jtbOXuauT2BAAq85alrBgxlR97pttjA8KiFZlZ6740NpXCx_6XIAQLcdmo82BZQTdSbeKjmkq0VkqG-zG-0X77ApWehHppVrchnklz9RPKqR-gU0gQ=s0" width="355" height="534" style="width: 355px; height: 534px;">Marina Abramovic, Rhythm 0. Digital image. Royal Academy. Accessed August 22, 2019. royalacademy.org.uk. The Serbian conceptual and performance artist Marina Abramovic is probably the most famous artist that would fall into the category of someone who began as a performance artist in the 1970s, but was included under the live art umbrella in the 1990s.&nbsp; Although this is a European example rather than one from Atoearoa, I bring her up because of the popularity of her work.&nbsp; From 2017 - 19 I taught a paper on hybrid art practices at UNITEC’s School of Dance.&nbsp; During that time I noticed that the clarity of Abramovic’s work was a powerful gateway drug into the world of live art for young artists, especially those who prefered a non-verbal, non-narrative approach to making art. Abramovic’s performances use a key feature of live art, and that is to explore what “happens to the body when thinking is secondary.”15 This was valuable for feminists at the time who used performance art as a way to engage with “questions that had been systematically oppressed and ignored in Western thought”16 through putting their bodies at the centre of their art. Her work, The Artist Is Present (2010), where she sat in a red dress as the exhibition herself and simply stayed present with MoMA gallery visitors as they sat, one by one, in front of her, is a popular example of the kind of work live art encompasses.&nbsp; However an earlier, more seminal piece of hers that hits the borders of live art, is Rhythm 0 (1974), in which she presents herself and the question “how far [can the] public can go, if the artist herself doesn’t do anything?”17alongside a table of 72 objects ranging from roses and feathers, to a knife and a gun. <img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/8goNto9Nk3U2VNhGvpeFGVqNf3OfJEBnIgZf_XOYZoUIbCxrIM76FnYgggR6OBsaGA2DHzdQkJ6M4Jq9LiiHM_kBEMZ76o9GPcGO61fDbz1LBS-qmh9QMBoXH6KnvA=s0" width="367" height="553" style="width: 367px; height: 553px;">Abramovic’s instructions for Rhythm 0. Digital Image. Accessed August 22, 2019. Lisson Gallery. Lissongallery.com The results of Abramovic’s conceptual challenge ended up being a moving, disturbing and deeply personal experience.&nbsp; In her passive state, the artist allowed the audience to take full advantage and exercise their right to follow her instructions as they saw fit.&nbsp; What started as timid and gentle interactions with her body, over six hours descended into a testing of her body’s borders.&nbsp; Thorns are pressed into flesh, her body was moved, displayed, objectified and photographed, before finally being held at gunpoint, all in the name of ‘art’ and within the so-called safe spaces of the art gallery. Over the hours that Abramovic stayed silent, her spectators closed the distance between her body as a concept, and her body as the keeper of herself, and her personal history. At the conclusion of the performance Abramovic reflected, “I started moving, and started being myself, because I was there just like a puppet just for them, and in that moment everybody ran away.&nbsp; People could not actually confront with myself, with me, as a person.”18 Live art thrives on the personal, something that the feminist scholar Peggy Phelan attributes to the energetic rise of personal performance after World War II.19 In Europe, performance moved from “empty formalism” towards an “intensely personal”20 expression, one that showed the body-in-process, in question, rather than a body of decision or premeditated message.&nbsp; Many other post war artists in Europe began to swap formalism and technique in favour of something that “asserted the performer’s personal history and identity as an indispensable content.”21 I use this popular example because in my time as a teacher of live art practices it is the example that captured young artists' hearts immediately.&nbsp; But it must be pointed out that what Marina is praised for has not been historically met with the same approval when performed by POC artists. While Marina is able to lend her alabaster white skin to objectivity, choosing when to drop the veil or not, artists like Rosanna Raymond have found that their “body has always been a contested space. Not so much by myself but by others.”22 Abramovic embodies the politics of art and privilege in more ways than challenging the contract of subject and object, spectator and artist.&nbsp; While she is deserving of the utmost respect, I cannot ignore that she has, like many other white artists, revealed her privilege in spades.&nbsp; In an uncorrected, leaked manuscript of her 2016 memoir, Walk Through Walls, Abramovic was called out on Twitter for her undeniably racist remarks towards Aboriginal Australians.&nbsp; In it, Abramovic horrifically objectifies Aborignal people, while simultaneously fetishing and appropriating parts of their cultural practice for her own. Performance artist SJ Norman, in his response to the controversy shoots an arrow right at the heart of this, pointing out, “I would much rather talk about Marina Abramovic as a lightning rod for the systemic racism that pervades the entire discourse of western art and the markets that govern it, as yet another active vector of white imperialist cultural and political priorities.”23 Personal History, Time and Space The body as a political site, as indispensable content, is an important opening into live art for me. It helps me understand why I, as an artist of colour, have been drawn so strongly to this type of performance.&nbsp; As an Indian woman, my body and bodies like mine have been a site of otherness since they were colonised through British rule in 1858. Their nearly 90-year exercise in superiority over my bloodlines without a doubt shaped my relationship to my body, and therefore my sense of the world around me. I am not surprised, therefore, that I gravitate toward my body as a way to begin wriggling out from under my ruler's thumb. Maybe if I can reclaim the walls of my body first, the rest of the world might not seem so scary. Artists in Tāmaki Makaurau are thinking hard about body politics, moving strongly away from centring the thin white bodies I saw populating the stages and pages of live art offerings in the early 2000s. For example, instances of “fat rebellions”24 through performance are becoming par-for-the-course in the live art scene in Auckland. As part of the 2019 Auckland Fringe Festival, four-hour durational performance, Jelly Baby, took the destruction of beauty standards quite literally. In Jelly Baby, performer and creator Alice Kirker, invited audiences to methodically destroy items that are thick inlaid with fatphobia.&nbsp; Weight scales, measuring tapes, skipping ropes, and women's magazines were collectively torn apart with a deliberate and calmly encouraged glee, before being preserved as specimens in jars of coloured jelly.&nbsp; Relegated to the past, these specimens of body control lay utterly inert and useless, displayed around the artist as she proudly bathed her fat body in a bathtub, enjoying a well-deserved absolution after four hours of destroying her oppressive forces. <img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/QnHZyPAtyXGgbCwmqhlT2NfQtOOprFIwTIGxdrgbKh8J4E43EcdCCfIRIUrRLjMWu-K5CJDuCoy77ePIsCyUkLFIf1kgeJ7irdLmRXRKQoJfXN0SZdS-gDOBFl-7GQ=s0" width="624" height="351" style="width: 624px; height: 351px;"> Alice Kirker, Jelly Baby. Digital Image. Provided by the Artist. The audacious demand on time in this work is what I attribute to it being so successful in the softening of the walls of power held over bodies that are anything but tall, white and skinny.&nbsp; Presented in duration, Kirker insists that time and care is taken with her methodical undoing of body politics.&nbsp; On the night I attend the show, this takes three hours.&nbsp; In hour four, the time is taken to clean the room meticulously, removing any traces of collective destruction before settling down to eat her dinner.&nbsp; It is only after she has cleaned her space of ritual and fed herself that she then allows herself and her audience a sigh of watery relief. Durational performances test a performer’s body, stamina and ability to relate to their audiences through an extended period of time.&nbsp; It is a well known strategy and in Jelly Baby, Kirker uses it to bring her audience closer to her experience in real time.&nbsp; She actively avoids the mainstream structure of time - notably in a Fringe festival context - that asks for water-tight storylines within sixty minute,&nbsp;three act structures, before the next show is ready to go. We may think of Fringe festivals as spaces for unconventional moments in art, but there is an irony in the need for venues to host as many shows as possible, to make as much money as possible.&nbsp; Shows need to be able to turn around in fifteen minutes, creating a worldwide trend of the tourable sixty minute Fringe show. Jelly Baby lies defiantly against this model, insisting that to understand a different body, you need to be in a different time, “time felt in the body, time not just as progression and accumulation but also as something faltering, non-linear, multidimensional and multi-faceted.”25&nbsp; Jelly Baby demands the time that her body deserves. Time to play, time to work, time to eat, time to rest, and time to meaningfully share the personal history of her fat body. Artists from Aotearoa are becoming well-known as game changers in their ability to draw on their personal histories through centring the body in their practice.&nbsp; In a meteoric rise since 2013, the Pasifika-Queer arts collective FAFSWAG has carved out a scene like no other for Queer artists of colour in Tāmaki Makaurau.&nbsp; The multi-disciplined collective has raged through the worldwide artworld, excelling in just about every artform imaginable.&nbsp; They are probably most known for the part they played in providing a platform for voguing in Tāmaki Makaurau. Through the study and acknowledgment of Black and Latinx23 ballroom culture created in Brooklyn, New York City during the mid 1980s, FAFSWAG have laid the foundations for Queer, brown, Māori and Pasifika bodies to take up space in the live art world through movement, fashion and photography for nearly a decade now.&nbsp; The incredible impact on their communities and on the shape of contemporary art in Aotearoa was recognised in 2020 with an Arts Foundation Laureate award, the first to be given to a collective of artists, rather than an individual. Ballroom Culture was created to provide safe spaces for the LGBTQI+ community to live freely and and express their inner lives and strengths despite being poor and exiled to the fringes of society.&nbsp; Through the practice of catwalking and competing for trophies in categories that range from femme to bizarre, the ballroom scene is responsible for dance forms like voguing, a movement style that features sharp hand gestures akin to the heiroglyphic bodies of Ancient Egypt, combined with flexible body shapes reminiscent of modelling poses in beauty magazines, such as the form’s namesake, Vogue. As expressed through the definitive documentary, Paris is Burning, “voguing is the same thing as, like, taking two knives and cutting each other up, but through a dance form.”26 Voguing provides a safe way of expressing the violence experienced internally and externally by trans women of colour. During a talanoa held as part of The Nest: Street Style Solo Dance Festival, curated by Jahra Wasasala and Ooshcon, at Auckland’s Basement Theatre (2021), Jaycee Tanuvasa (mother of Auckland’s House of Iman) reflects that the South Auckland’s ballroom scene is used “not only as a safe haven to fulfil our fantasies but also bootcamp for life so we can survive and live.”27&nbsp; This aptitude for creating safe space is something learned from both her Samoan ancestors and her “modern day leaders which is the ballroom community.”28&nbsp; This specific combination of ancestral strength and the liberation felt through Street Style forms of dance is what characterized Wasasala and Ooshcon’s The Nest, a gathering of five solo works from street dancers of various styles, including Krump, Vogue, Waacking and Hip Hop. Here, Mosiana Webster, aka Nix, stands centre stage in traditional Tongan dress for her solo work, Vast.&nbsp; She begins by diligently following the intricate hand gestures her grandmother is teaching her of the traditional Tongan tau’olunga.&nbsp; <img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/oatSTChtoS5WISKXyiW51dovJTIAGxjLT4Y-nI43MrbisVvTho4nvn2Jf_7mMwMivp09G7TDYosVugpAgfpdNA-O9jWmBKFXIc36gQba_dCOUvDkv1pLKNRkYYxxLw=s0" width="464" height="479" style="width: 464px; height: 479px;"> Mosiana Webster, Vast. Digital Image. Instagram. instagram.com/mosianawebster What follows is a collage of ancestral hand gestures, autobiographical text and extended Krump solos all charting the dancer's journey of reclaiming herself and marrying her two worlds of Tongan heritage and Krump together. As we near the end of the hour, Webster's dress has shifted from her traditional Tongan dress to the traditional dress of Krump, black cap, large t-shirt and jeans. Newly clad, her chest puffs out in defiance of any limits placed on her.&nbsp; Her foot stamps and her head jerks back in challenge to her audience.&nbsp; Answering this, ten or so people respond, all dancers from her community, rushing through the fourth wall, as if it never existed, on to the stage to egg her on, gas her up and join in on a Krump battle you’d be hard pressed to find anywhere else except for a garage in Māngere. It is unclear whether these participants are plants, or just people who refuse to let theatrical codes stop them from doing what they would in the natural habitat of Krump, that is the street, a garage, or car park. I feel compelled to mention that I’m unsure that Mosiana Webster has come across the term “live art,” or has been taught its intricacies in any school or through access to those upper echelons of art-makers who consider themselves experts on experimentation.&nbsp; Webster came with a particular nonlinear approach to telling her story, drawing on the wisdoms inherent in her ancestry and in the genius of Black culture.&nbsp; Her performance is a shining example of what happens “from allowing the street - in all its non-linear wisdom - to leak into the theatre.”29&nbsp; It is an example of the will of a BIPOC artist to break free of their oppression through their ancestral lineages of dance. It also shows how this inheritance has more in common with the innovative practices of live art, than it does with mainstream and Western modes of storytelling. Live art at its best can be a wonderful way to rebel and reclaim space for those bodies born in resistance, and Webster’s performance proves that it is not always found in theatres across the privileged Western world today. Choreographically, Webster’s work throws down a challenge, boldy asking, what forms of dance are considered worthy of being presented to a paying audience, rather than sidelined to the streets, car parks and garages of the city.&nbsp; It’s an idea gaining in momentum worldwide, for example the 2019 Paris Opera’s Les Indes Galante, which invited Krumpers, Voguers, Flexors and Breakers (amongst others) out of the streets and clubs and onto the main stage, in order to subvert an operatic baroque spectacle.30&nbsp; A preview piece written by Basement Theatre’s Executive Director, Cat Ruka (an arts leader with a background in performance art herself) reveals the uneasy political use of space at the heart of The Nest, and performances like Vast: “theatre venues like ours, which at their core affirm a colonial modality of giving and receiving performance, aren’t necessarily set up to uplift or whakamana the more circular, cypher-oriented covenant of street-born styles.”31 The Nest festival is a compelling moment for me to look at how live art can unearth the politics of space. It follows in the pattern of those artists who are able to interrupt the in-built codes of art spaces.&nbsp; In Rhythm O, Abramovic interrupts the static, objective nature of visual art by placing herself in the gallery, asking her spectators to consider the subjective distance between a person and their art. &nbsp;Jelly Baby challenges the cookie-cutter Fringe model by demanding more than the standard 60 minute slot in order to take her time with her destructive ritual.&nbsp; The Nest reminds us that we don’t need to limit ourselves to finding art in spaces built by the bourgeoisie. We can find it on the streets, and might be surprised by its natural innovative heart.&nbsp; Power Underlying these examples of live art, is an investigation of power: how artists use their relationship with their audiences to talk about it, question it, play with it, subvert it. In 2018, I set about trying to explore this relationship and the effect it can have on my own journey of cultural identity through a solo performance called Fuck Rant. Throughout my body of work, I have considered the question: what if the unspoken contract between the audience and the performer were a tangible thing? For Fuck Rant, I continued ito explore this question, wanting to find out what it might take to get everyone in the room on the same page together (a phrase often used when negotiating a contract between two entities). Using a game of labelling, I tried to map, define and identify everything in the room. This game was repeated with the audience within decreasing time limits.&nbsp; One of the crucial parts of this mapping and labelling was to identify where the “Fourth Wall” was. The fourth wall is a concept whose rumour was best spread by the 18th century French philosopher Denis Diderot who said “don’t think about the spectator anymore, act as if he doesn’t even exist. Imagine there is a big wall at the edge of the stage separating you from the parterre. Act as if the curtain was never raised.”32 This concept has shaped the experience of live performance since the 18th century so strongly that it governs how we build our theatres to this day.&nbsp; Audiences are on one side of the room, the performer is on the other side, and in between them is an invisible wall, commonly known as the fourth wall.&nbsp; This wall separates the current room into two rooms, in one room is the audience, in the other is the performer.&nbsp; The unspoken contract between the two plays out in the space of that invisible wall. In Fuck Rant, through playing a frustrating game of trying to categorise everything in the room (a tactic stolen from British colonial rulers) I renamed the fourth wall “The Fifth Wall” (after all, were we not already in a room that had four walls?!) so that I could assert a collective space.&nbsp; I insisted that the current room was not divided into two but that we were in one space together.&nbsp; In renaming the wall, this space became one of constant negotiation between myself and my audience, with power always at the centre.&nbsp; It symbolizes the unseen distance people travel when relating to one another’s differences and was a tangible way for me to understand what my daily power struggles feel like as a woman of colour. In repeating the action of crossing through the wall, the power shifted, sometimes to me, sometimes to the audience, and each time, the more the structures of power unravelled between us.&nbsp; I cannot speak for my audience, but for me, a part of my personal history was rewritten through manipulating live art techniques to my advantage.&nbsp; That part was one that had me convinced that I learned these techniques from a book in a shared apartment in Europe.&nbsp; But in stepping through that fifth wall and meeting my predominantly white audience repeatedly, I began to remember a different type of border crossing. From the newly created border of Pakistan and India that my ancestors left behind in 1947, to my parents crossing into the Middle East in 1981, to arriving in Tāmaki Makaurau in 1995, crossing borders is something that my flesh, blood and bones have known long before the term live art was created. Like other artists of colour, coming up against and using our innate skills to navigate, scale or move through borders - those walls intended to either pen us in or shut us out - is what I do daily. In all the examples cited within this essay, there is a fifth wall at work, the function of which is to create a space to reveal the power at play in a performance (and in the society in which the performance is located), and to allow it to shift from side to side.&nbsp; Sometimes that power is held between the artist and the institution, sometimes between the artist and her audience.&nbsp; Sometimes it is blindly wielded by popular bodies. Sometimes it is held in objects or symbols that can be remade through the closing of distance between an audience and their performer.&nbsp; Sometimes it is a safe space for you and your community to inhabit.&nbsp; Sometimes it is in the gaze you hold with those who mean to assert their power over you in a multitude of violent ways. To show up in this space takes a great amount of hope, and once that hope is activated, a performance can be more than its label or genre.&nbsp; It can be practiced by more than those who have the historical privilege to claim those labels and genres.&nbsp; It can become a way to, as Rebecca Solnit suggests, “write history with our feet and with our presence and our collective voice and vision.”33 If live art is a form that hinges on exposing power relationships from an outsider’s perspective, then, no doubt, it belongs to those who have been historically othered or marginalised through the gaze of Western colonisation. The form is built to resist and “to resist is to retrench in the margins, retrieve ‘what we were and remake ourselves’.”34&nbsp; and although this form has an empirical lineage, and operates largely in colonially codified spaces, the performances it encompasses “have also become spaces of resistance and hope.”35 1&nbsp;Live Art Development Agency, “LADA” 2-3 Sofaer. What is Live Art? 4&nbsp;Heathfield. LIVE: Art and Performance. 5 Ahmed, Living A Feminist Life, 103 6&nbsp;Auckland Fringe "2017 Auckland Fringe Award Winners." 7 -9 Neill. Red Mole on the Road. 10&nbsp;Solnit, Hope In The Dark, The Untold History of People Power, 16 11 Raymond, “A Walk Through My Eyelands, Pacific Arts Legacy Project” 12 Iti. "Tame Iti: artist and activist." By Kim Hill. Saturday Morning, Radio New Zealand. 13 Tuhiwai Smith, Decolonizing Methodologies - Research and Indigenous Peoples, 2 14 Sofaer. What is Live Art? 15-16 Phelan, ”On Seeing The Invisible,” 17 17 Millica. Marina Abramovic on Rhythm 0. 18 Millica. Marina Abramovic on Rhythm 0. 19 Phelan, ”On Seeing The Invisible,” 18 20-21 Heathfield,"After the fall Dance-theatre and Dance-performance," 285 21 Raymond, “A Walk Through My Eyelands, Pacific Arts Legacy Project” 22 Norman, “Sarah Jane Norman Responds to Marina Abramovic” 23 Kirker, "Jelly Baby." 24 Heathfield. LIVE: Art and Performance.10 25 Bailey, "Gender/Racial Realness: Theorizing the Gender System in Ballroom Culture,” 365-386. 26 Livingston, Paris is Burning. 27-28&nbsp; Jaycee Tanuvasa, talanoa with Ooshcon as part of The Nest: Street Styles Solo Dance Festival, Basement Theatre, 17/07/21. 29 Ruka, “Cat Ruka Talks The Nest” 30 Cogitore, Les Indes Galantes by J-P. Rameau : "Forêts paisibles"31 Ruka, “Cat Ruka Talks The Nest” 32 Diderot, Discours Sur La Poésie Dramatique 33 Solnit, Hope In The Dark, The Untold History of People Power, 24 34-35 Tuhiwai Smith, Decolonizing Methodologies - Research and Indigenous Peoples, 4 https://islandsofhope.cargo.site/Shoutouts Sat, 28 Aug 2021 23:23:05 +0000 Islands of Hope and Care https://islandsofhope.cargo.site/Shoutouts धन्यवाद(dhanyavaad / thank you) I offer this portfolio to the many independent artists in Aotearoa (especially those feminist, queer and brown ones) who have surrounded me with ways of being, seeing, confronting, ways of imagining, healing, loving and shrugging off all that is harmful in the world.&nbsp; Deepest gratitude: To my supervisor, Emma, for&nbsp; gassing me up constantly, you are a true accessory to &nbsp; &nbsp; my academic crimes! Thank you for quietly encouraging my gentle mudslide rhythms.&nbsp; To my team of proofers, Helen, Tim, Sam and Sarah for making me look and &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; sound better than I ever could have! To my Gorgon sisters Julia, Virginia and Frances for your life saving friendships &nbsp; &nbsp; and invaluable contributions to this&nbsp; portfolio. This work is also offered in exaltation of all the strong women in my majestic family tree and dedicated to my mother Rashmi, in honour of all the walls you scaled to get me here. <img width="1080" height="1080" width_o="1080" height_o="1080" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/50713f0851480bbe5904ef3344a4d75fd9bbdff892db99232b8c88183dfe19d6/49759117_2645371932144888_890770599373176832_n.jpeg" data-mid="125878398" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/50713f0851480bbe5904ef3344a4d75fd9bbdff892db99232b8c88183dfe19d6/49759117_2645371932144888_890770599373176832_n.jpeg" /> Me and my mother, Rashmi Madhan, photo by my father, Krishan. Om Namah Shivaya https://islandsofhope.cargo.site/The-Chant Sat, 28 Aug 2021 23:24:33 +0000 Islands of Hope and Care https://islandsofhope.cargo.site/The-Chant performance text scroll ↓ THE CHANT OF MEDUSA Madhan / Frankovich / Croft with sonic elements by Frances Libeau To be spoken a-tonally, in unison and in traids The planets are moving. Earth is moving. Continents move. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; There is no Earth without a Sun. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; No Sun without an Orb. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; No Orb without a Temple. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; No temple without a mountain. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; No mountain without an ocean. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; No ocean without fish. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; No fish without jellyfish. At the top of the mountain is Medusa. At the bottom of the ocean is a snake. At the end of the horizon is a sword. At the tip of the sword is a head. Inside this head there are eyes. Inside these eyes are three eyes. Inside these eyes is a monster. I am the anticipated image. I am the thing. The thing itself is a thing. Itself is not the thing. It exists. It doesn’t not exist. It is illusion. I am illusion. From my body might come a wave of shit, or vomit, or blood or some dysfunctional mother element or the entire Pacific Ocean. Setting: &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; A Lecture / A Town Hall / A Conference / An Intervention A delicate dance of authorship and control. Choreographic expression of the monstrosity of anger. It is never everything you hoped. It’s sometimes worse than you think. It is sometimes a metaphor / It is sometimes not for you. You don’t want to see it / Run Away / Far Away Films / stories / myths have lead me to believe my anger is destructive eg. CARRIE. I don’t agree The Three act structure &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Act 1: exposition Act 2: rising action Act 3: climax / resolution I am “trolling” the hero's journey, the three act structure and The 7 basic plots by rewriting them / I never got to see what I look like through my own eyes / I never got to build things in my own image/ All I have left is to steal your structures in order to write my own. Part one Expectation. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Eyes. Tension. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Promise. Teasing.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Power game. I have it&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; you don’t. I stare. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Is this it?&nbsp; If we were in Berlin this would have been the whole show. Bums on seats. Anus on threads. The black hole floating in the cosmos. Full of shit. I talk in unison. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Theatre convention. &nbsp; &nbsp; Direct address. &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Exposition. Concise. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Well choreographed. Well distilled. I am always translating the world. I am outside. There is no space free from ideology. Interpretations and stories and myths and paintings and cum stains are read and discussed. Hesiod Perseus OvidHomer Plato Caravaggio Rubens Bocklin Dante Shelley Yeats Morris Rosetti Sartre Nietzche Deleuze Guattari Freud Zizek Foucault Heidigger Lacan Jung. Nisha will cry. Virginia will winge. Julia will throw a hissy fit. Noone says a word. This is all in silence. I play my own body as if it were a strange instrument. Strange sounds from a stranger body. I move too quickly for you to decide what this means. Intermission: You may leave if you want. (long pause) Part two. The meat. Marinating in a mixture of &nbsp; &nbsp;+ olive oil&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; +&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; rosemary&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;+ &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; +&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; thyme&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;+ + milk + + ghee&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;+ &nbsp; &nbsp; + garlic&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;+ + ginger&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;+ + cumin&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;+ &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; + &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; mirin + &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; + chilli flakes&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;+ &nbsp; &nbsp; + lemon juice&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;+&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;+ &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; +&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; beef stock&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;+ + soy sauce&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;+ &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; +&nbsp; crushed sage&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;+ + gelatin&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;+&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;+&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;+ &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; +&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; rice vinegar&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;+ &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; + &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; cornflour&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;+ + coriander powder&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;+ +asafoetida&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;+&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; + and caraway seeds&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;+ by a trio of celebrity chefs. A rising in tension created through sonic elements by Claire Duncan. Nisha has an itch. Julia has a UTI. Virginia has pissed herself already. Power tools appear. Weapons appear. The universe appears / The universe within an anus / My anus. We are boiling down violence until there are just bones and rage and grit. I apologize for every action. I take it back. I make noises you don’t recognise. Someone in the audience giggles because they are uncomfortable. I explain why there are no snakes. Everything is repeated three times. Everything is repeated three times. Everything is repeated three times.Everything is repeated three times. I make triangle upon triangle upon triangle upon triangle upon triangle. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; triangle&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; 🔺&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; triangle The string is wound too tight. Rome is burning.Your toes are on fire. You want to fuck me. Someone has to be the protagonist. Someone has to be the antagonist. There has to be tension. There has to be resolution. We have to solve the world inside this theatre. Who is playing Medusa? I cannot decide. You are a sharp intake of breath. I am an inconvenience. Intermission you may leave (long pause) ⌛️️ Part three A backwards scream. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Death metal. The stage is smashed. I am submerged. Substance is a metaphor. Watch out for the spit or you slip. This is like being in love. This is like sacrificing a small rabbit with your bare hands. This is the largest kitchen knife I won’t put back in the drawer but instead hold against your neck. You don’t know whether this is a game anymore.&nbsp; You call that a knife. This is a knife. You are never told why I am angry. That’s your job. Figure it out. “Repetitions not only reproduce traumatic effects; they also produce them” says some dude called Foster. So we won’t mention what Neptune did. If you are confused, google it. I am medusa. It is me. I am medusa. It is I. I am hard. Rock hard. Feel it. Invert it. I studied voice projection and articulation to deliver you these words. I tried to do it with my body. I failed. This is a disappointment. There is no reference. Or maybe there is. Maybe I am jellyfish. I am ripping you off. This has been done in New York. And London. And Salford. And Delhi. And Shanghai. And Hong Kong. And West Yorkshire. And Avignon. And here. And there. And Paris. And Perth. This is a mass castration party in your pants. Can you see the snakes? Do you love them? I stayed up all night paper macheing them justCan you see the snakes? Do you love them? I stayed up all night paper macheing them justCan you see the snakes? Do you love them? I stayed up all night paper macheing them just for you so that you could look at them on my head and say ‘wow the snakes look so realistic,for you so that you could look at them on my head and say ‘wow the snakes look so realistic,for you so that you could look at them on my head and say ‘wow the snakes look so realistic, how did you manage to detail the snake skin so intricately and wow you are so clever - howhow did you manage to detail the snake skin so intricately and wow you are so clever - howhow did you manage to detail the snake skin so intricately and wow you are so clever - how on earth did you get the snakes to writhe around as if they were real on top of your head.on earth did you get the snakes to writhe around as if they were real on top of your head.on earth did you get the snakes to writhe around as if they were real on top of your head. You are a great artist and this is an outstanding show’ and i would smile at you and shylyYou are a great artist and this is an outstanding show’ and i would smile at you and shylyYou are a great artist and this is an outstanding show’ and i would smile at you and shyly tuck a ring of hair behind my ear and softly whisper ‘it was actually super easy’ and then youtuck a ring of hair behind my ear and softly whisper ‘it was actually super easy’ and then youtuck a ring of hair behind my ear and softly whisper ‘it was actually super easy’ and then you would throw roses at me and give me a cake that was made just for me with my face on itwould throw roses at me and give me a cake that was made just for me with my face on itwould throw roses at me and give me a cake that was made just for me with my face on it and little jelly snakes all over my head with the wordsand little jelly snakes all over my head with the wordsand little jelly snakes all over my head with the words ‘CONGRATS ON BEING AMAZING!’ I am finally tackling the classic texts. You don’t know this but I had a bloody neat process making this. There was a moment in the middle that was tricky but I held it together with care and love and empathy and forgiveness and self care and long walks and good food and the odd glass of fine wine. This is my great work. This is my rite of spring. This is my thousand faces my power of myth my mask of god. Shut up Joseph fucking Campbell.&nbsp; If I hear your name one more time I will scream.&nbsp; Go on.&nbsp; Try me. I have sharpened and tuned my voice so that you can hear the words. Stop listening. Go. Home. Tension is rising because i say it is. I am melting like ch e e s e&nbsp; There is a Jellyfish called Medusa and Sylvia Plath wrote poems about her before TedThere is a Jellyfish called Medusa and Sylvia Plath wrote poems about her before TedThere is a Jellyfish called Medusa and Sylvia Plath wrote poems about her before Ted Hughes or her mother or the patriarchy or the weight of genius made her put her head in anHughes or her mother or the patriarchy or the weight of genius made her put her head in anHughes or her mother or the patriarchy or the weight of genius made her put her head in an oven on a Sunday afternoon. And gas makes one hallucinate after a time so there she lay, oven on a Sunday afternoon. And gas makes one hallucinate after a time so there she lay,oven on a Sunday afternoon. And gas makes one hallucinate after a time so there she lay, awkwardly bent, floating through an ocean of jellyfish that are beautiful and fucking scary at the same time. Because you can die from jellyfish. you can die from jelly fish You can get blisters from jellyfish. get blisters jellyfish You might have to piss ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss on your own leg because of jellyfish. Or on someone else’s. That bit comes later. Excited yet? Scared yet? There are scarier things than jellyfish. jellyfish j llyfish j. lyfish j&nbsp; &nbsp;yfishj.&nbsp; &nbsp;fish fish fish fish fish fish fihs fihs fish frishfir fgrish frishfeish fiesh fishe feish fliesh fliesh flisch flisehc lfiesh fleish lesh flshe lfhes flesh flesh fles flesh flesh flesh fleshI am trying to use my flesh / bones to talk but i have stiff hips from rehearsing the clay bit that you will see later. I said there would be no mess. I lied.&nbsp; Just kidding.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; I didn’t lie.&nbsp; Just kidding I did. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Just kidding I didn’t.&nbsp; Just kidding I did. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Just kidding I didn’t.&nbsp; Just kidding I did. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Just kidding I didn’t. Just kidding I did.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; Just kidding. When will this end? Let’s get to bitching in the foyer. Let’s get to drinking a sav.&nbsp; Let’s get to making some regrets.&nbsp; Let’s get to snorting some mdma off a toilet.&nbsp; This is career suicide.&nbsp; Let’s get to sabotaging our closest friendships.&nbsp; Let’s get to wanking on a school night.&nbsp; Let’s get to missing my appointment with my therapist because I’m too busy coming down off acid and I am sure that my skin is crawling and that somehow it is your fault. o &nbsp; &nbsp; o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; oo&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; oo &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; oo &nbsp; &nbsp; o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; ooooo &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; oo &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; oo &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; ooooo &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o ooo&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o&nbsp; &nbsp; oo &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o o We all read the second wave and we know that we can have multiple orgasms. This is orgasm upon orgasm upon orgasm and the deeper you go the more surprises there are. The biggest one of which is that it feels like home. Or your mother’s breast. Or your deepest darkest kinkiest fantasy. Or all of the above. Forgive me I am tired of wading through your shit so some times I lose my train of thought.&nbsp; But in no other universe that splits off every second from this one does it matter that much. Or at all. Or maybe a tiny little bit.&nbsp; &nbsp; Maybe this is just Freud giving himself a hard-on over his mother's cunt. Here is a cloud of nothing that exists just under the surface of a sophisticated cocktail party celebrating the retirement of a dear friend and colleague. Or a christmas lunch with all the red face children popping christmas crackers. I keep circulating a strange growl in my throat and meaning starts to break down when you hold onto the narrative. It’s slippery like that. Maybe when you realise you are on solid ground that might crack at any second because of tectonic plates / seismic shifts / cracks that reveal an abyss. Are you scared yet? Don’t be scared. The universe is still expanding. That should make you scared. There are 11 dimensions. That should make you scared. This is just a metaphor. The snakes are a goddamn, mother fucking, cock sucking metaphor. And we are waiting for the metaphor to appear. Which is like waiting for god to appear. It already happened in the 14th century and won’t be happening again anytime soon. We are coming to save you. Coming to save you or you money back. Guaranteed. Enshrined in the bill of rights / the consumer guarantees act / a private members bill. I won’t disappoint you. I love you. Never forget that.We could get really close you and I / I and you / you and I / I and you / you and I / I and you / you and I / I and you / you and I / I and you / you and I / I and you / you and I / I and you / you and I / I and you / you and I / I and you / you and I / I and you / you and I / I and you / you and I / I and you / you and I / I and you / you and I / I and you / you and I / I and you. &nbsp; The word becomes another word becomes another word becomes flesh becomes bonesI and you / you and I / I and you / you and I / I and you / you and I / I and you / you and I becomes marrow becomes grit becomes teeth becomes blood becomes plasma becomes you and I / I and you / you and I / I and you / you and I / I and you / you and I DNA becomes ooze becomes time becomes space becomes stars becomes the milky way I and you / you and I / I and you / you and I / I and you / you and I becomes planets becomes silence becomes deep space becomes soundwaves becomes you and I / I and you / you and I / I and you / you and I sound becomes a mouth becomes a tongue becomes words becomes sounds becomes I and you / you and I / I and you / you and I soundwaves becomes a vibration becomes a body becomes a mouth becomes a throat you and I / I and you / you and I becomes a black hole becomes time becomes space becomes the universe becomes a black hole becomes time becomes space becomes the universe becomes times becomes space becomes the universe universe universe universe universe universe universe universe universe&nbsp;universe&nbsp;universe universe&nbsp;universe&nbsp;universe&nbsp;universe&nbsp;universe universe&nbsp;universe&nbsp;universe&nbsp;universe&nbsp;universe&nbsp;universe&nbsp;universe uuuuuuu&nbsp;uuuuuuuu&nbsp;uuuuuuu&nbsp;uuuuuuu&nbsp;uuuuuuu&nbsp;uuuuuuuuuuuuuu&nbsp;uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu &nbsp;uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu nnnnnnn&nbsp;nnnnnnn&nbsp;nnnnnnn&nbsp;nnnnnnn&nbsp;nnnnnnn&nbsp;nnnnnnn&nbsp;nnnnnnn&nbsp;nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn&nbsp;nnnnnnn&nbsp;nnnnnnn&nbsp;nnnnnnn &nbsp;nnnnnnnnnnnnnn&nbsp;nnnnnnn iiiiiiiiiiiiiiii&nbsp;iiiiiiiiiiiiiiii&nbsp;iiiiiiiiiiiiiiii&nbsp;iiiiiiiiiiiiiiii &nbsp;iiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv&nbsp;vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv&nbsp;vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv &nbsp;vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv &nbsp;vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv eeeeeeeee&nbsp;eeeeeeeee&nbsp;eeeeeeeee&nbsp;eeeeeeeee&nbsp;eeeeeeeee&nbsp;eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee&nbsp;eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee&nbsp;eeeeeeeee&nbsp;eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr rrrrrrrrrrrrrrr&nbsp;rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr sssssssssssssss ssssssssssssssssss sssssssssssssssssssssssssssss sssssssssssssssss sssssssss sssssssssssssssssssssssssss s s s s ssss s sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss https://islandsofhope.cargo.site/Fuck-Rant Sat, 28 Aug 2021 23:25:49 +0000 Islands of Hope and Care https://islandsofhope.cargo.site/Fuck-Rant transcript of a live performance FUCK RANT An existential wormhole. Play↓ Scroll↓ Eight minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Eight minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Eight minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Eight minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Eight minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Eight minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Eight minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Eight minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Eight minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Eight minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Eight minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Eight minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Eight minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Eight minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Eight minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Eight minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Okay. Hi! Hi. Welcome. Welcome to this special one night only event. Just before we start, I feel I must tell you all that due some lies that I told on New Zealand National radio recently, and some old press releases that have been floating around, and are still floating around that I’m just really aware that there may be some of you here that are expecting quite a different sort of a thing to unfold, a different event– you might be expecting me to rant very angrily at you – for about an hour – about what it feels like to live inside a brown and marginalised body, and perhaps –&nbsp; Perhaps that will happen. Perhaps we will get there – but just before that can happen, before we start to sort of break down the differences between&nbsp;me and you, [blood splatter in background] I just really think it’s quite important that we all kind of start together on the same page with each other – that we try to find, like a… like an equal sort of a footing. Yeah? So... I have a way that I propose that we can go about this. It’s a technique that I’ve been working on for some time now. So what - what I’m – what we’re going to do – is we’re going to use this tape and this pen to label, map, and define – identify everything that is in this room. So, kind of&nbsp; like an astronomer for the universe – but just for this room. Yeah? A really good way to start, I’ve found, is just to start with who’s here. So, we’ll start with me. <img width="1024" height="683" width_o="1024" height_o="683" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/aaab6227c743fc6c94d987209068b4e506279f8f8f3e31c5990a6e9fe69907a5/0B4A7257.JPG" data-mid="124696524" border="0" data-marker-id="2" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/aaab6227c743fc6c94d987209068b4e506279f8f8f3e31c5990a6e9fe69907a5/0B4A7257.JPG" />Here’s <img width="658" height="298" width_o="658" height_o="298" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/8712c5a32f47be0a1a5eb32389c0ca4d935e840114f5e497977d5630762a36cf/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.17.05-PM.png" data-mid="126002670" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/658/i/8712c5a32f47be0a1a5eb32389c0ca4d935e840114f5e497977d5630762a36cf/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.17.05-PM.png" /> Which would make you…. <img width="738" height="298" width_o="738" height_o="298" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/9b6bb02c734285a69b8122357136564121a03f4be9c86bd9cea76ffa981411ed/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.18.38-PM.png" data-mid="126002672" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/738/i/9b6bb02c734285a69b8122357136564121a03f4be9c86bd9cea76ffa981411ed/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.18.38-PM.png" /> [Writes YOU on label for audience member] [To another audience member] And would make you… you? [Audience member] &nbsp;<img width="674" height="294" width_o="674" height_o="294" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/1b9fedc4855bd6e951c969e00e401de043188b197a9c75b0da116c15d9b5e78d/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.18.41-PM.png" data-mid="126002674" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/674/i/1b9fedc4855bd6e951c969e00e401de043188b197a9c75b0da116c15d9b5e78d/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.18.41-PM.png" /> A girl? Okay! Good. Okay. We’re getting very detailed here. And now, just before I move on – I do realise that that was quite a full on little bit of interaction that you and I just did there and thank you so much for your generosity – but I’m just really aware that there are some people here who might not like that level of interaction. So if there is anyone here who does not like audience participation, please do tell me. Please, if there’s anyone here who is just not into it, doesn’t want to interact – no one? We’re all okay. We’re all okay? Fantastic. Okay, well just on that note, I should probably just also ask, is there anyone here who is reviewing this show? Or is a reviewer? Or has been a reviewer in the past? Yes? Thank you very much for doing that. Okay, I’m just gonna give you this little label here, and please know, this is more for me than it is for you, for all of us. It just says <img width="1106" height="288" width_o="1106" height_o="288" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/3e25ae1b26426a3e9662a061f4209cc4d36a3576e2711317723bd4915f9a0426/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.18.46-PM.png" data-mid="126002692" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/3e25ae1b26426a3e9662a061f4209cc4d36a3576e2711317723bd4915f9a0426/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.18.46-PM.png" /> Because, from now on sir, this is it. You have a very powerful and important job to do. And that is to sit there and think, concentrate very very hard on what this all means. And whether it is anygood. Or bad. Got it? Good.&nbsp; See, so it’s – I mean it’s complex, it’s a little bit hard when you try to flatten the hierarchies in the room, figure out who knows more than who about what’s going on here but I think we can get there. I’m aware that we’re running out of time, but I think that we can all get there together because there are some givens, there are some things that we already know. Like, for example, you’re here. You’re here. And I’m here, and we’re in a room together. And we know we’re in a room because a room is a space defined by walls. We’re in a room and there’s four walls. There’s one behind you, and there’s one behind me, there’s one&nbsp; over there, and there’s one opposite to her. But what some of you might not know, and some of you probably do know is that there is another wall in the room. And it’s right about here. Just in between you and me. In fact [gives tape to audience member] would you mind if I give you that end of the tape if you go down to that end, we’ll just map it out just so that we all know – that’s good that’s good – yep – you go down and I’ll go down – just along this line here – yeah perfect, okay, great, there we go, just give it a little, yep [smooths down tape with feet]... uh good! <img width="1024" height="1536" width_o="1024" height_o="1536" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/a42739d5166439e442f36c9a3845c2b69a397247e8c0ff4e7cb74d972fe60d27/0B4A7284.JPG" data-mid="124696972" border="0" data-scale="66" data-marker-id="3" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/a42739d5166439e442f36c9a3845c2b69a397247e8c0ff4e7cb74d972fe60d27/0B4A7284.JPG" /> So, good. Now this is what many experts, and teachers, directors, lecturers, tutors, reviewers have told me in the theatre, is what they call, the fourth wall. But as we’ve already established, there are in fact four walls in the room already, so this, I’m going to say, is the fifth wall. So I’ll just write that here just to be clear for everyone [writes on tape] <img width="1214" height="338" width_o="1214" height_o="338" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/85e6da9e26e50a699f73af642c3a7df4cb49973ae0bd475890ced11210dac4b2/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.18.54-PM.png" data-mid="126002868" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/85e6da9e26e50a699f73af642c3a7df4cb49973ae0bd475890ced11210dac4b2/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.18.54-PM.png" /> And, I just think it’s really important that we know that it's here, that it does have a presence. It makes things&nbsp;clearer, like you really are over there on that side of the wall, and I’m over here. [Steps over the line] I mean I could. I just did – I did – I did that. How do you feel about the fact that I just crossed the line like that? Good? Got a thumbs up here, good over there. Worried? Okay. We’ve got a worried over there. That’s fine, that’s fine, that’s good, it’s just information in the room that we need to excavate. [Steps back] And over here, how are you feeling now? Good? Worried’s turned to good – okay, so good – now we just know that if I’m over here [in front of line] little bit worried up there – if I’m over here [steps back] – much better for the worried corner. Okay, it’s not to say that you wouldn’t be welcome to cross the line over here, but if you did, I just need to make you very acutely aware of some very specific health and safety hazards. For example, this pool of blood. Which you would be absolutely forgiven for thinking is a representation of my menstrual cycle. Or my womb. Or my mother’s womb. Or my grandmother’s womb. Or my great grandmother's womb. Or the blood of my ancestors. Or the blood of your ancestors. Or the blood of the land… this is representational of colonisation, and decolonisation, that this represents how it feels to me to be an Indian– <img width="1024" height="683" width_o="1024" height_o="683" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/72f452b8ac2327fbd600e7f6f6ac2b2b4ae5e348969ecb495e21e954b501dea0/0B4A7305.JPG" data-mid="124696851" border="0" data-marker-id="4" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/72f452b8ac2327fbd600e7f6f6ac2b2b4ae5e348969ecb495e21e954b501dea0/0B4A7305.JPG" /> [interrupted by Space Odyssey 2001 music, dies dramatically on stage to the music] Seven minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Seven minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp;Seven minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Seven minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp;Seven minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp;Seven minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp;Seven minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp;Seven minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Seven minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp;Seven minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Seven minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp;Seven minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp;Seven minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp;Seven minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Okay. Hi! Hi. Welcome. Welcome to this special one night only event. Seven minutes. Now before we continue, I feel that I must let you all know that due to some lies&nbsp;floating around, that I’m just really aware that there are some of you here who might be expecting something quite different to unfold. There are some of you who are expecting me to rant quite angrily at you for sixty minutes about what it might be like to be an Indian immigrant in New Zealand who’s lived here for over twenty years. And perhaps – Perhaps we’ll get to that. Perhaps that will happen. But before we get to that, before we start talking about the differences between you and me, I just think it’s really important that we all get on the same page together. That we try to find an equal footing and the way I&nbsp;propose that we do this, and it’s by using this tape. And this pen.. there’s a pen somewhere here… by the blood… not here… the other side of the blood… I’m not seeing it… The bottled blood. Over here, by the ladder. Here, where is it? Oh I got it! Okay. This tape, and this pen. Thank God I found it, because we are really running out of time here. We’re just going to use this tape and this pen to map – name – label – identify everything in the room. So kind of like an astronomer but just for this room, yeah? So, one way to start would be with who’s here, right?&nbsp; So Amanda’s there, she is the <img width="872" height="316" width_o="872" height_o="316" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/7aff7c2a64da329abb1c05b7886db240c98a477adb99d96cac5c4904d05289f6/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.19.02-PM.png" data-mid="126002883" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/872/i/7aff7c2a64da329abb1c05b7886db240c98a477adb99d96cac5c4904d05289f6/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.19.02-PM.png" /> of the show, which would make me the <img width="1262" height="304" width_o="1262" height_o="304" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/86e7f3d9d1e3cead2d75049c38906bf60b8e8c4413eef4154c23b6a31be6ce26/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.19.05-PM.png" data-mid="126002897" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/86e7f3d9d1e3cead2d75049c38906bf60b8e8c4413eef4154c23b6a31be6ce26/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.19.05-PM.png" /> [said as writing] which would make you all <img width="1110" height="276" width_o="1110" height_o="276" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/f1a3aaecf60c885a5824d502849c2e2186db47d3222f0230d2e75f776a226f46/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.19.09-PM.png" data-mid="126002901" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/f1a3aaecf60c885a5824d502849c2e2186db47d3222f0230d2e75f776a226f46/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.19.09-PM.png" /> great, I’ll just write that over here… audience.. . put a little arrow that way, and that way, over there also, some over there…. Good, okay, yeah, yeah, yeah. <img width="1024" height="683" width_o="1024" height_o="683" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/ffe0ea3d3a0850ecda2f92cdd550245392b261efd4386535a517577edecd4666/0B4A7338-1.JPG" data-mid="125670601" border="0" data-scale="95" data-marker-id="5" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/ffe0ea3d3a0850ecda2f92cdd550245392b261efd4386535a517577edecd4666/0B4A7338-1.JPG" /> And just before we go on, is there anybody here who does not like to be&nbsp;touched. Great, okay, I’m just going to give you this little label – more for me than you – it just says – <img width="1256" height="338" width_o="1256" height_o="338" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/1b2352555a351bd5403aee047cc8751570d3c2ff75b7fc08869e93ad01a9d26e/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.19.13-PM.png" data-mid="126002929" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/1b2352555a351bd5403aee047cc8751570d3c2ff75b7fc08869e93ad01a9d26e/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.19.13-PM.png" /> Don’t. And uh, while we’re on that note, is there anybody here who has any power over my artistic career. Anyone. Anyone. No one, say, who is a curator from an international cultural precinct… I don’t know… in Hong Kong? [International curator Kee Hong Low raises hand] Okay, I’m just gonna give you this little label here, and please know, this is more for me than it is for you, for all of us. It just says <img width="1158" height="278" width_o="1158" height_o="278" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/0086a4f77f1f52c28cc662cad2d7872801388339648881b4c7a312e2e49094e0/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.19.17-PM.png" data-mid="126002942" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/0086a4f77f1f52c28cc662cad2d7872801388339648881b4c7a312e2e49094e0/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.19.17-PM.png" /> Because, from now on sir, this is it. You have a very powerful and important job to do. And that is to sit there and think, concentrate very very hard on what this all means. And whether or not you willcommission my work in the future Got it? Good. &nbsp; Great, so it can be hard, you know, when we try to name the power that’s in the room – some people don’t really want to admit to it straight away, you need to sort of coax it out of them. But, I know it’s complex and I think that we can get there, we can get there, because there are some givens. Like we know, we know we’re in a room together. And we know we’re in a room because a room is a space defined by walls. We’re in a room and there’s four walls. There’s one behind you, and there’s one behind me, there’s one&nbsp; over there, and there’s one opposite to her. But what some of you might not know, and some of you probably do know is that there is another wall in the room. And it’s right about here. Just in between you and me. Now this is what many experts have told me in the theatre, is what they call, the fourth wall. But as we’ve already established, there are in fact four walls in the room already, so this, I’m going to say, is the fifth wall. So I’ll just write that here just to be clear for everyone [writes on tape] <img width="1254" height="322" width_o="1254" height_o="322" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/e0a4a3f9634fed96465108d9125e7a7c8b0909c99ac3326ec0a910eaeb7dd667/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.19.26-PM.png" data-mid="126002953" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/e0a4a3f9634fed96465108d9125e7a7c8b0909c99ac3326ec0a910eaeb7dd667/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.19.26-PM.png" /> and I like that, because it kind of makes me feel like you’re in a different dimension over there, you know? You're in a sort of a fifth dimension over there, and I’m in a kind of a – I don’t know a – a sixth – maybe a first dimension over here! <img width="1024" height="683" width_o="1024" height_o="683" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/c7e58684fa239736d7bfa37d5ec1dc25b9946ecd60e2af55eb2ac2d71d16f9ca/0B4A7280.JPG" data-mid="125670608" border="0" data-scale="83" data-marker-id="6" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/c7e58684fa239736d7bfa37d5ec1dc25b9946ecd60e2af55eb2ac2d71d16f9ca/0B4A7280.JPG" /> But it just makes me aware of where you are in space, where I am in space – it’s not to say that I couldn't cross over into your dimension - I could just bowl in here, that’s fine. [Crosses line into audience block] How are we feeling? Nods. Blank. Squints. Nods. Big squint here. Not so sure over there. Eyebrow raised. Okay, so it’s feeling quite complex in your dimension I’d say. [Crosses back] But with a little bit of distance... how’s the squinting feeling now? better? no? a little bit?&nbsp; So over there, quite complex, and over here, a little bit better. Great, and it’s not to say that you wouldn’t be totally welcome to cross the line over here – you’d just have to be very, very aware of this ever-expanding pool of blood. Which you’d be absolutely forgiven for thinking is a representation of what happens to my brain when I hear the name Ayn Rand. Or represents the rampant failure of capitalism. Or my absolute failure to be able to pay my rent week to week without every so often asking my father to bail me out as a 35 year old. You’d be absolutely forgiven for thinking this is a representation of the moon. Or witchcraft. Or mysticism. Or the occult. Or Aleister Crowley’s face at the end of a giant orgy. But what you must know, is that actually, this is a FAKEpool of blood. This is icing sugar, and water, and food colouring, it's ingredients, it’s a bunch of ingredients. It’s groceries. It’s shopping. It’s shopping from a supermarket in Grey Lynn. It’s– <img width="1024" height="1536" width_o="1024" height_o="1536" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/603ffd34eb11bba681a7082f12e37cf41a07ed1f4db91e71a2e3e52d1013e49a/0B4A7307.JPG" data-mid="125670686" border="0" data-scale="59" data-marker-id="7" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/603ffd34eb11bba681a7082f12e37cf41a07ed1f4db91e71a2e3e52d1013e49a/0B4A7307.JPG" /> [interrupted by Space Odyssey 2001 music, dies dramatically on stage to the music] Six minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Six minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Six minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Six minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Six minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Six minutes.Six minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Six minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Six minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Six minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Six minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Six minutes. Okay. Hi! Hi. Welcome. Welcome to this special one night only event. Now, before I continue I feel I must let you all know that I told some lies on the radio. And in some press releases. And for that reason I’m really aware that there are some of you here that might be expecting something different to unfold. You might be expecting me to rant very angrily about &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; structural racism &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; and &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; oppression. And perhaps – Perhaps we’ll get to that. Perhaps that will happen. but before we do I just think it’s really important that we all get on the same page together. That we try to find a sort of, an equal footing with one another. And uh, I have a way that I propose to do this. It’s by using this tape and this pen to map, label and identify everything that’s happening right now. In this room. So kind of like an astronomerbut just for this room. So, why don’t we just start with who’s here. So, we could start with me. I am Nisha. <img width="854" height="254" width_o="854" height_o="254" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/c33852dadacc6ca23c91232e9d830a258df2fcd624863495cb08420269cf3550/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.20.03-PM.png" data-mid="126002982" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/854/i/c33852dadacc6ca23c91232e9d830a258df2fcd624863495cb08420269cf3550/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.20.03-PM.png" /> Which would make you – [Audience member] <img width="578" height="280" width_o="578" height_o="280" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/890ba4b049558e16aa0206ac61e646013887ae5b24f4cea97e5091903aeecb3c/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.20.05-PM.png" data-mid="126002983" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/578/i/890ba4b049558e16aa0206ac61e646013887ae5b24f4cea97e5091903aeecb3c/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.20.05-PM.png" /> Lizzie. That’s a nice simple European name that I knew how to spell straight away. Here. So, you see it can be tricky when you come to all the little details because some people you need to ask how to spell their name and some people you just know straight away how to spell it. <img width="1024" height="1536" width_o="1024" height_o="1536" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/24cde1b2930c28f181408b2677bd7a4f11555f58bfb4d0e086f72a00152cbd38/0B4A7259.JPG" data-mid="125752550" border="0" data-scale="63" data-marker-id="8" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/24cde1b2930c28f181408b2677bd7a4f11555f58bfb4d0e086f72a00152cbd38/0B4A7259.JPG" /> Just before I go on, is there anyone here who has any money? Like maybe just a dollar, two dollars. You’ve got two dollars? Great. Anyone here who earns a weekly wage? Yeah? Anyone here who has some savings? A significant amount of savings. Okay, I’m just gonna give you this little label here, and please know, this is more for me than it is for you, for all of us. It just says <img width="1084" height="264" width_o="1084" height_o="264" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/ffb73e2c9389e5301cf6ce463f6a4d2c1b80e72ba4a26c4bd50a285f8d8b42c2/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.20.21-PM.png" data-mid="126002994" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/ffb73e2c9389e5301cf6ce463f6a4d2c1b80e72ba4a26c4bd50a285f8d8b42c2/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.20.21-PM.png" /> Because, from now on, this is it. You have a very powerful and important job to do. And that is to sit there and think, concentrate very very hard on what this all means. And whether or not you willafter the show you will become my personal arts patronGot it? Good. &nbsp; So it can be hard when we figure out who earns a weekly wage, has some savings… who doesn’t…. I think it’s complex but I think we’ll get there, I think that we can get there because there are some givens, like we all know that we are in this room and we are in this room together. We know we’re here because there are&nbsp;four walls in this room. There’s one behind you, made of brick. One behind me, made of brick. There’s one behind Amanda, not made of brick. Has the door on it as well. There’s one over there, not made of brick. Has some stairs, goes up to the dressing room. Very windy, very narrow. We know this&nbsp; We know that these walls exist. But what some of you might not know, and some of you probably do know is that there is another wall in the room. And it’s right about here. Just in between you and me. Now this is what many experts have told me in the theatre, is what they call, the fourth wall. But as we’ve already established, there are in fact four walls in the room already, so this, I’m going to say, is the fifth wall. So I’ll just write that here just to be clear for everyone [writes on tape] <img width="1402" height="282" width_o="1402" height_o="282" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/5ded22c07e54ed04c8ad13a6d300879592a6e0fff507cdc9e6b0f64e4d40884e/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.20.40-PM.png" data-mid="126002998" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/5ded22c07e54ed04c8ad13a6d300879592a6e0fff507cdc9e6b0f64e4d40884e/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.20.40-PM.png" /> It’s very hard to see, but if you try, you can sense it. And it’s important that you know that this wall is here because it’s what defines you in space from me right now. <img width="1024" height="683" width_o="1024" height_o="683" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/e9e7fc48020d1167548460ee97ac2ef3e37920a44fadba3284306d9e9f4b150e/0B4A7483.JPG" data-mid="125752535" border="0" data-scale="89" data-marker-id="9" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/e9e7fc48020d1167548460ee97ac2ef3e37920a44fadba3284306d9e9f4b150e/0B4A7483.JPG" /> And that’s not to say that I couldn’t cross the line and just sort of… come over into your space. But to be quite honest, for me this feels very vulnerable. Because there are a lot more of you than me right now. And I’m pretty sure that if we got into a fight that you would all win. But I also think that if we wanted to start a riot this would be a great number of people to start. Or maybe just an online movement. So it’s good to know that over here there’s a kind of collective power that’s happening here with you&nbsp;and over there on the stage it feels a little more individual. And it’s not to say that you all couldn’t just come rioting over to this side of the room, but if you did, you’d have to be very, very aware of this ever-expanding pool of blood. which you’d be absolutely forgiven for thinking is a representation of my desperate need to kill a king. Or just my way of finally playing the “out, damn spot” scene. You’d be absolutely forgiven for thinking that this is a representation of ancient civilisations and storytelling. That this is Plato’s Cave. Or Socrates or some other guy who said things once. You would be absolutely forgiven for thinking that this is a representation of second wave feminism or Simone de Beauvoir’s womb. But what you should know is that this is a pool of FAKE blood. This is three KGs of icing sugar. It’s four bottles of red food colouring, a smattering of cocoa powder and just a tiny bit of blue food colouring just to give it that real dark edge, y’know? This is just – it’s a prop, it’s a sham, it’s a trick, it’s a tool. If this is a tool, it’s a nail, and it just would need the hammer like an actor dying in front of you over and over again just to really hammer the point home, y’know? It’s a mechanism. It’s a function, it’s just sort of functioning there, spreading about – <img width="1024" height="683" width_o="1024" height_o="683" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/5c30defb9eb45c5b70e9285aede8d82d43955bca997b2b18020314eeb8806e84/0B4A7228.JPG" data-mid="125752519" border="0" data-scale="85" data-marker-id="10" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/5c30defb9eb45c5b70e9285aede8d82d43955bca997b2b18020314eeb8806e84/0B4A7228.JPG" /> [interrupted by Space Odyssey 2001 music, dies dramatically on stage to the music] Five minutes.&nbsp; Five minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Five minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Five minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Five minutes.&nbsp; Five minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Five minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Five minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Five minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Five minutes. Okay. Hi! Hi. Welcome. Welcome to this special one night only event. Now, before we go on, I feel I must tell you, I told lies. And, because of that, I’m aware that there are some of you here who think that something different might happen. There are some of you here who might be expecting me to talk about how it feels to be differentbut before I can do that, I just think it’s really important that we get on the same page together. That we find an equal footing with one another. And the way that I propose to do that is that we all become astronomers But just in this room. So we name and map and define what’s happening – we could start with who’s here, like me. I am a <img width="1338" height="346" width_o="1338" height_o="346" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/863daa4f3354508f48f4aa679f3e09d12fa1a2436814dfaa167100ac21ca6942/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.21.14-PM.png" data-mid="126003010" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/863daa4f3354508f48f4aa679f3e09d12fa1a2436814dfaa167100ac21ca6942/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.21.14-PM.png" /> Are there any other people of colour here tonight? [Looks around] It’s nice to see you. <img width="1024" height="683" width_o="1024" height_o="683" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/9616b4d120827eb128e514cd7f8c92bf86b05c6d3d0798f79a496f431952bfdd/0B4A7345.JPG" data-mid="125982304" border="0" data-scale="100" data-marker-id="12" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/9616b4d120827eb128e514cd7f8c92bf86b05c6d3d0798f79a496f431952bfdd/0B4A7345.JPG" /> So, it can be tricky can’t it, when we try to figure out the little categories and who’s here and how many are here and how many aren’t here, but I think we can do it, I think we can do it, because we know some things already. We know that we’re in a room together, that there are four walls in this room. There’s one over there, there’s one over there, there’s one over there and there’s one right over there. But there is another wall in the room. It exists between you and me. It’s very hard to see, I understand. But it is there. It’s what some people call the fourth wall, which really has me baffled, because as we’ve already established there are already four walls, so I think it is <img width="1324" height="394" width_o="1324" height_o="394" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/89838669087014cdf6b5d5256f70a8bd1ca19442dbb2825bc4c6203db0dd8e9f/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.21.23-PM.png" data-mid="126003015" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/89838669087014cdf6b5d5256f70a8bd1ca19442dbb2825bc4c6203db0dd8e9f/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.21.23-PM.png" /> <img width="1024" height="683" width_o="1024" height_o="683" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/a9b93dc1d2d7693b4a3a69492a1c6837e637002f81fa42d6ad5fdc9801dc77c7/2K4A2857.JPG" data-mid="125982351" border="0" data-scale="100" data-marker-id="13" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/a9b93dc1d2d7693b4a3a69492a1c6837e637002f81fa42d6ad5fdc9801dc77c7/2K4A2857.JPG" /> It’s really important that I know that this is here, it’s important that you know it’s here, because it’s what defines you in space from me right now. It’s what makes me know that you’re over there, and that I’m over here. Some people are feeling a little bit baffled, a little bit worried, a little bit confused, a little bit I-don’t-know-about-this. It’s alright if you are, because I’m aware that I know some things that you might not know, so I wrote this essay for you all. I possibly should have given it out to you at the start, but I didn’t and I’m sorry [passes out essay] Maybe you could just pass it–make sure that the important people who have power get one – here you go – maybe that will clear things up a little bit y’know? It’s important that I know that you’re there with a certain amount of&nbsp;information and that I’m here with a certain amount of information, and it’s not to say that I couldn’t cross the line into your space, and not to say that you couldn't come over here but if you did, you would just have to be very, very,veryacutely aware of this ever-expanding pool of blood. which you would be absolutely forgiven for thinking is a representation of the origin of the universe. Or the life force. That it’s a representation of what we are born in and what we will die in. That it is a representation of motherhood. Of, of deep, unconditional love for a child. That it is a representation of family trees, of ancestry&nbsp; but what you need to know is that this is actually a FAKE&nbsp; pool of blood. This is thousands upon millions of granules of powder with thousands upon millions of molecules of liquid. This is science. This is a science experiment. This is a cool science experiment. Which is the name of the YouTube video where I found the recipe. This is the result of what happens when asteroids slam into each other and create a planet which gets pummelled by comets and then volcanoes arrive and they erupt and melt ice into oceans and the whole thing gets pulled into a gravitational orbit around the sun and then I’m born and you’re born and you’re born then we’re all in this room with four walls, five walls, looking at this big pool of blood. This is just mechanics, it’s motion, it’s physics, it’s gravity working, it’s chemicals just banging about. It’s a, it’s a reaction. It’s an image.&nbsp; This is light and dark–it’s what happens when time and space get together. <img width="1024" height="683" width_o="1024" height_o="683" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/7833f8c198309c8cabe3b6d98ea79283d1f5e47b40799d7c52475bb9eeb2fd39/0B4A7410.JPG" data-mid="125982567" border="0" data-scale="91" data-marker-id="14" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/7833f8c198309c8cabe3b6d98ea79283d1f5e47b40799d7c52475bb9eeb2fd39/0B4A7410.JPG" /> [interrupted by Space Odyssey 2001 music, dies dramatically on stage to the music] Four minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Four minutes. &nbsp; &nbsp; Four minutes. &nbsp; &nbsp; Four minutes. &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;Four minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Four minutes. &nbsp; &nbsp; Four minutes. &nbsp; &nbsp; Four minutes. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; Okay. Hi! Hi. Welcome. Welcome to this special one night only event. Now, before we go on, I feel I must tell you that lies happened. And because of that, I know that there are some of you that might be expecting something different to happen. But before that can happen I think it’s really important that we figure out how to all get on the same page together. And the way that I think we can do that is by becoming astronomers For this room. To name what’s happening here and now. Like, for example, we could start with who’s here right now. Like me, for example. I am a <img width="612" height="294" width_o="612" height_o="294" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/5f975e153b218cc5905b44ca3ba3f0e68e7d8fdf305ad90f38716e6b3c93b36d/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.21.57-PM.png" data-mid="126003021" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/612/i/5f975e153b218cc5905b44ca3ba3f0e68e7d8fdf305ad90f38716e6b3c93b36d/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.21.57-PM.png" /> which might make you… [Audience murmurs] <img width="606" height="288" width_o="606" height_o="288" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/47909c08eabe1d53ce5852c10207d81608abebbae934bfeecc0c9644b7b219a6/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.22.00-PM.png" data-mid="126003023" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/606/i/47909c08eabe1d53ce5852c10207d81608abebbae934bfeecc0c9644b7b219a6/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.22.00-PM.png" /> &nbsp;<img width="1024" height="683" width_o="1024" height_o="683" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/b9dc35fdcb40c662efef3b01b76e62ae57310b6ad152dd3134b91147f2febc31/0B4A7297.JPG" data-mid="125982633" border="0" data-scale="100" data-marker-id="15" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/b9dc35fdcb40c662efef3b01b76e62ae57310b6ad152dd3134b91147f2febc31/0B4A7297.JPG" /> Great! Good. Before we go on, I was just wondering, is there anyone here who feels just a little bit more people than the other people? Like the peoplest person… in the room? Anyone? No, okay. Well that’s a good sign, I think we’re really getting somewhere even though we know we’re running out of time. It’s complex, I know but I think we can get there because we know that there are some givens that I’m over here, and that you’re over there– there are four walls that are surrounding this room, but there is another wall in the room. and is hard to define; it’s hard to see but it exists between you and me. It’s really important that we know that this wall exists between you and me, that we really try to look for it, try to see it, because it’s what defines you in space from me right now. And it’s not to say that I couldn’t just sort of cross the line and walk all the way right up into your space, right here <img width="1024" height="683" width_o="1024" height_o="683" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/e45f6eb1cf46b808936c3a5b8266491bef1e1a93cb4048635fa79a0c04097576/0B4A7295.JPG" data-mid="125982702" border="0" data-scale="100" data-marker-id="16" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/e45f6eb1cf46b808936c3a5b8266491bef1e1a93cb4048635fa79a0c04097576/0B4A7295.JPG" /> [crosses into Audience block] how are we feeling? Okay? Nods? You’re okay? You’re okay. [To audience member] How are you feeling? [Audience member] Less…. Not okay. [To audience member] You’re less…. Not okay? Is it because of your white skirt? [Audience member] Yeah. Okay. [Hastily leaves audience] Good! Now we know, it’s out in the open it’s there, it’s been defined – I’ll stay away from the white skirt from now on. That’s not to say that you wouldn't be totally welcome to come over here onto this side of the room but if you did you would absolutelyhave to be aware of this ever-expanding pool of blood, which you would be completely forgiven for thinking is a representation of murder. Or death. Or DNA. Or a crime scene. Or how we love to put women in situations of violence in the cinema. Or in the theatre. Or in literature. Or in life. You would be absolutely forgiven for thinking that is a representation of sexuality. Of sexuality, of my deep, dark carnal desire to be fingered up the arse... very gently on a nightly basis. You would be absolutely forgiven for thinking that is a representation of that time when I told my best friend that I loved him at a party and then he said ‘I don’t love you’ and I said ‘well now I’m crying, please don’t turn your back on me’ and then he just did. But what you should know is that this is a pool of FAKE blood. This is a very unhealthy breakfast. This is a road to developing diabetes. It’s edible. I’ve seen her eat it multiple times [to Amanda]. It’s very sticky. It’s a problem. It’s a dangerous hazard. If I slip on this concrete and actually crack my brain open and my real blood mingles with this blood then someone in this room is going to jail. It’s probably her [gestures to Gabrielle Vincent], because she is the programming director of this venue. This is a very good way to fuck up my friend’s life. This is a problem; it’s trouble. It’s a grave concern, it’s a waste, it’s also a big– <img width="1024" height="1536" width_o="1024" height_o="1536" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/b2ce1f22699cec60b7df929bd53153c9c2b5b2c1dcb43331f7c2bd19b58d8d3d/0B4A7235.JPG" data-mid="125982815" border="0" data-marker-id="17" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/b2ce1f22699cec60b7df929bd53153c9c2b5b2c1dcb43331f7c2bd19b58d8d3d/0B4A7235.JPG" /> [interrupted by Space Odyssey 2001 music, dies dramatically on stage to the music] Three minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Three minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Three minutes. &nbsp; &nbsp;Three minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Three minutes.&nbsp; &nbsp; Three minutes. &nbsp;&nbsp; Okay. Hi! Hi. Welcome. Welcome to this special one night only event. Now, before we go on, I feel I must tell you that lies happened, and I’m sure that there are people here who expect that something different can happen. But before something different can happen, we need to find out how we can get on the same page together. That we can find an equal footing with one another. And the way that I propose we do that, is that we all become astronomers for our lives. And one way of doing it would be to start with defining what’s in the room, who’s here, like me, for example. I am <img width="1280" height="320" width_o="1280" height_o="320" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/2f25667e7c2fda348ebf7594d44c02131d0420e1c67d21e73b2cc6422a091290/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.22.43-PM.png" data-mid="126003047" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/2f25667e7c2fda348ebf7594d44c02131d0420e1c67d21e73b2cc6422a091290/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.22.43-PM.png" /> Which might make you… <img width="1280" height="320" width_o="1280" height_o="320" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/b1e9799377ec958e71bc4b3111223b8656e6e0ad108875693e259a6ddb9726f5/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.22.43-PM.png" data-mid="126003049" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/b1e9799377ec958e71bc4b3111223b8656e6e0ad108875693e259a6ddb9726f5/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.22.43-PM.png" /> <img width="1024" height="1536" width_o="1024" height_o="1536" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/2cf827139ddf13f743f9ee44498ee415d30ad2b199cab9c342c60870c585f766/0B4A7217.JPG" data-mid="125982994" border="0" data-marker-id="18" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/2cf827139ddf13f743f9ee44498ee415d30ad2b199cab9c342c60870c585f766/0B4A7217.JPG" /> And, and, we know that we’re in a room, and that the room has four walls, but there is another wall in the room. – it exists between you and me. It’s important to know that because now we know that I am over here and I am standing and I am very wet and sticky – it’s a problem for the hairs on my arms …. And…. that you’re over there and you’re sitting quite comfortably, and… you’re dry… <img width="1024" height="683" width_o="1024" height_o="683" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/cdcba0c564ebd5cf63e24e036ea000989f58b4dc8add0f27cdd8d4b97a98a397/0B4A7220-1.JPG" data-mid="125983149" border="0" data-marker-id="19" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/cdcba0c564ebd5cf63e24e036ea000989f58b4dc8add0f27cdd8d4b97a98a397/0B4A7220-1.JPG" /> I was just wondering if there was anybody in this room who felt that they were drier than the other people in the room right now. Someone who’s the driest person in the room. No? All a quite safe, comfortable level of dry…. That’s good. That’s not to say that I couldn’t cross the line over to your dry side of the room– it might make the whole dry-wet situation a little bit clearer– as I’m pretty sure I am the wettest person in this room right nowon many levels. And then over here [on stage], well, I am probably the driest person here right now– oh no that’s wrong, there’s Amanda. [To Amanda] Am I the wettest person here right now? [Amanda] Yes. Yes. Okay, good. That’s not to say that you wouldn't be totally welcome to come over to this side, this wet side of the room. But if you did, you’d have to be very, very,verycareful of this ever-expanding pool of blood. which you would be completely forgiven for thinking is a representation of my heart. Or the heart of the deer that the hunter killed and took back to the Queen as proof that he really did kill Snow White. That you would be completely forgiven for thinking that this is the stuff that myths and legends are made of. That this was a muse for Shakespeare. You would be completely forgiven for thinking that this is a representation of guilt, of envy and wrath but what you should know is that this is a pool of FAKE blood. This is a– this is just molecules, swimming around together, finding motion, trying to find a way out the fire exit so that it can go down the gutter and end up in the stream and finally in the ocean and possibly kill some fish. Or give them diabetes. That this is just me pulling the wool over your eyes. This is just a performance. This is theatre happening, right now. This is theatre, this is it. It’s a function, it’s just kind of functioning down there. It’s physics, it’s reasonable metaphysics. It’s a way of me getting out of actually bleeding for you. Which I thought about… decided against. This is a lazy outcome. This is a very poor attempt at something real. This is make-believe– <img width="1024" height="683" width_o="1024" height_o="683" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/27c81c7fd7f75a1548b316ea5117c181c410b1c8a9c37bea981dc78c155c1fb5/0B4A7207.JPG" data-mid="125983260" border="0" data-marker-id="20" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/27c81c7fd7f75a1548b316ea5117c181c410b1c8a9c37bea981dc78c155c1fb5/0B4A7207.JPG" /> [interrupted by Space Odyssey 2001 music, dies dramatically on stage to the music] Two minutes.Two minutes.Two minutes.Two minutes. Hi. Welcome. Welcome to this special one night only event. Now, before we go on, I feel I must tell you that lies happened, and I’m sure that there are people here who expect that something different can happen. But before something different can happen, we need &nbsp; something the same to happen. &nbsp;And maybe we’ll get there. and perhaps – Perhapswe’ll get to that. One way of doing it would be to become astronomers To kind define what’s happening between you and me right now in this room. Like for example, we could start with me. I am…. <img width="1494" height="380" width_o="1494" height_o="380" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/a6642ae36e9c9348763db7c3d9c4c84111563afc3dcaa7294788797b2751db3b/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.23.19-PM.png" data-mid="126003063" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/a6642ae36e9c9348763db7c3d9c4c84111563afc3dcaa7294788797b2751db3b/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.23.19-PM.png" /> Which might make you <img width="1494" height="380" width_o="1494" height_o="380" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/a68264f781c2e0f6eb5423e4b3619ba2e35bc8865dd5865cfde5c55a609c4757/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.23.19-PM.png" data-mid="126003075" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/a68264f781c2e0f6eb5423e4b3619ba2e35bc8865dd5865cfde5c55a609c4757/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.23.19-PM.png" /> <img width="1024" height="683" width_o="1024" height_o="683" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/3de219f6d53f92bc4c7bf658437d2a02b8dcb7dc5db32386aa17d56450976015/0B4A7355.JPG" data-mid="125983318" border="0" data-marker-id="21" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/3de219f6d53f92bc4c7bf658437d2a02b8dcb7dc5db32386aa17d56450976015/0B4A7355.JPG" /> And that’s good to know. And we know that we’re in a room together&nbsp; it’s defined by four walls – there’s one there, one there, one there, one there. But there is another wall in the room. – it exists between you and me. it’s a barrier it’s hard to see– but if we just look for it we can see it. It’s right hereit’s what some people call the fourth wall. <img width="1024" height="683" width_o="1024" height_o="683" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/2eec592f00d4f5ba3cb52ce4c777ac15c18aa74e1abad572a2a17a74f6d804d1/0B4A7288.JPG" data-mid="125983332" border="0" data-marker-id="11" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/2eec592f00d4f5ba3cb52ce4c777ac15c18aa74e1abad572a2a17a74f6d804d1/0B4A7288.JPG" /> But there are already four walls in the room so I just do not understand why it’s not called <img width="1214" height="294" width_o="1214" height_o="294" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/17d4d85545df6949dbb5dfb0f8285c715f389c792c5f71d7b2f8aaea1d5326e3/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.23.35-PM.png" data-mid="126003090" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/17d4d85545df6949dbb5dfb0f8285c715f389c792c5f71d7b2f8aaea1d5326e3/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.23.35-PM.png" /> It’s important that we know that this wall is here, it’s what defines you in space from me That’s not to say that I couldn’t cross the line and come over to your side of the wall. [Crosses over] How are you feeling?&nbsp; [Audience member] I shouldn’t have worn a white t-shirt. You shouldn’t have worn a white t-shirt. Thank you for telling me. Thank you for giving me your feedback. I will take that into the next season of this show and perhaps put a trigger warning out there. [Crosses back] How are you feeling about your white t-shirt now? [Audience member] Much better. Good, okay. I’m really glad we got that out in the open. That’s not to say that you wouldn’t be absolutely welcome to come over here, you’d just have to be very, very,verycareful of this ever-expanding pool of blood. which you would be absolutely forgiven for thinking is a representation of my white hot rage and anger- <img width="1024" height="1536" width_o="1024" height_o="1536" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/540c2018647d8c3f75f18d21193c8cc7d2e1a766dffced313f7380caa186f55c/0B4A7471.JPG" data-mid="125983367" border="0" data-marker-id="22" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/540c2018647d8c3f75f18d21193c8cc7d2e1a766dffced313f7380caa186f55c/0B4A7471.JPG" /> [interrupted by Space Odyssey 2001 music, dies dramatically on stage to the music] One minute.One minute. Okay Hi&nbsp; welcome to the show&nbsp; it’s one night only lies happened and before it can be different it needs to be the same and we could be astronomers we could find out who’s here like there’s me I’m over here and there’s you you’re over there we are all in a space together and we are running out of time and you have to be aware of this expandingpool of blood which is a represen-tation of my &nbsp; dreams &nbsp; or my &nbsp; nightmares &nbsp; or the cosmos or my subcon-scious&nbsp; or birth or rebirth&nbsp; or past lives&nbsp; but what you must know is that this is not real –&nbsp; <img width="1024" height="683" width_o="1024" height_o="683" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/759c286aba0fe51444de27434aaa2ccad0722228d619be39c6b0da7c28b47199/0B4A7467.JPG" data-mid="125983496" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/759c286aba0fe51444de27434aaa2ccad0722228d619be39c6b0da7c28b47199/0B4A7467.JPG" /> [interrupted by Born to be Wild, thrashes around on the bloodied floor for the entire duration of the song] ANY QUESTIONS? all images by Andi Corwn Photography. transcript by Frances Libeau based on a live performance dated 21 March 2018 at Basement Theatre. <img width="738" height="298" width_o="738" height_o="298" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/0908525810ee3420646d27fbbb8fee315f714703399f58d7dbd465c5c11939b3/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.18.38-PM.png" data-mid="126002410" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/738/i/0908525810ee3420646d27fbbb8fee315f714703399f58d7dbd465c5c11939b3/Screen-Shot-2021-11-30-at-2.18.38-PM.png" /> https://islandsofhope.cargo.site/Rolling-on-the-Floor-Laughing Sat, 28 Aug 2021 23:25:06 +0000 Islands of Hope and Care https://islandsofhope.cargo.site/Rolling-on-the-Floor-Laughing ROLLING ON THE FLOOR, LAUGHING Collaboration and Friendship NM = Nisha Madhan / JC = Julia Croft / VF = Virginia Frankovich I trained as an actor in Tāmaki Makaurau and I started out with roles in mainstream theatre and television. As far as an actor-ey career goes, I didn’t do badly, and I still mess around with the mainstream from time to time.&nbsp; I do not devote my life or art to the mainstream however because the mainstream either 1) ignores me 2) makes me work three times harder than everyone else to not be ignored 3) tokenises and exoticises me while expecting me to be grateful for it 4) says things like ‘don’t stir the pot, no one likes a negative nancy, watch that attitude of yours’ or 5) simply misunderstands me for not wanting to talk about where I am from all the time.&nbsp; I am a woman in a world where all the parts, jobs and commissions are for men. I am also a brown person in a world where all the parts, jobs and commissions are for white people.&nbsp; And whether I like it or not, these things always underpin my work. This is why I choose to make my own work which has turned out to be mostly experimental, live art.&nbsp; I did it because I needed to take matters into my own hands.&nbsp; Cast myself in the roles I wanted to play and create narratives that empowered me to be something other than the cute little Indian girl at the end of the Jungle Book.&nbsp; In my live art world, I can be powerful, chaotic, sexy, dangerous, angry and the centre of plot, rather than the epilogue.&nbsp; My live art world is one that can make your butt clench with its refusal to play into your assumptions of who I am supposed to be or who I am about to become.&nbsp; The glory of this world is that it thrives in intersections and collaborations.&nbsp; It allowed me to attract other artists who, like me, struggle under the hurtful, ignorant eyes of the mainstream, particularly in the sexist and racist settings of theatre in Aotearoa. Of those artists the most explosive collaboration has been with my friend, Julia Croft.&nbsp; We make work that is non-linear, often messy, feminist, subversive, uncertain and asks more questions than it gives answers.&nbsp; I like making this kind of work with Julia because I can relate to living a life that feels non-linear, often messy, feminist, subversive, uncertain and full of asking more questions than I can get the answers to.&nbsp; The more I live this life, the less inclined I am to find spaces or people that are linear, clean, misogynistic, mainstream, certain and sure of what the answers are. Spaces and people like this annoy me.&nbsp; While I can understand the attraction of feeling in control, I like feeling out of control, myself.&nbsp; When I experience a performance with that knife-edge quality of being uncontrolled, I feel like the outside world lines up with what’s going on inside of me.&nbsp; Like a rollercoaster for someone who is already on a rollercoaster. Julia and I make work that is about finding power structures and tearing them down.&nbsp; The theatre is our starting point, then, the idea of us in relation to (or in conversation with) the audience. That’s what really gets us going.&nbsp; In our work, the theatre is the theatre, not a lounge room or bus stop although it may, at times, feel like a different world. Julia is Julia, not an 18th Century lady in a big dress running through a forest that we somehow are able to see. You, the audience exist, you are not invisible, or tucked safely behind a fourth wall or a television set, you are with us and we are experiencing the world together. Our collaboration doesn’t exist with us individually.&nbsp; We work intuitively together and I’m proud of our work as an example of what an intersectional collaboration could feel like.&nbsp; That is to say that it is inextricably bound up and entangled in both of our bodies and timelines.&nbsp; It is practically and emotionally fuelled by our friendship.&nbsp; Practical, because we know how to live around one another having spent many years on the road touring mainstream theatre performances.&nbsp; Emotional because we consider each other’s friendship the primary relationship in our lives. Our art illuminates our friendship while our friendship carries our art.&nbsp; It is “how we pick each other up”1 and how we live. When we began it felt the same.&nbsp; We were two young women fighting the patriarchy together.&nbsp; Over time our differences have entered into our collaboration.&nbsp; I am brown, she is white.&nbsp; I am short, she is tall.&nbsp; I am fat, she is skinny.&nbsp; At their worst, these differences hurt. At their best, they propel us in our personal political agendas to break up and take up space in the world.&nbsp; It is through each other that our dreams take flight further than they would individually.&nbsp; It is through each other that our feet are able to stay planted firmly in the realities of being different.&nbsp; We have co created so many images together, but the real work has been choosing to stay in the room with each other and a blood pact to never leave the other behind. We began this piece of collaborative writing in 2019, and a version of it was published in Performance Paradigm, Vol 15, Performing Southern Feminisms in 2019.&nbsp; At that time I was in Auckland and Julia was in Perth and we had begun touring two of our works to Australia and Europe.&nbsp; I dropped Julia off at the airport in February of 2020, sending her off to London to perform our latest work, Working On My Night Moves, before she was to move to Glasgow.&nbsp; By March she had returned unexpectedly just before the borders closed,&nbsp; and we found ourselves making our way in the world through art together again. &nbsp; We picked up this piece of writing again in 2021 on the precipice of opening a new work, Terrapolis, another work whose life was unexpectedly cut short. &nbsp;Maybe we will always be writing this together, indulging in memories of our co-creations but always dreaming of the next and the next and the next. JC: I was in Perth. This is true. Sometimes overseas experiences make you want to move. Often it makes you want to move to Berlin or Brussels and makes you want to stay away forever. But sometimes you realise that Auckland, despite its geographical distance from a lot of the world, is a very special place. I love being in Auckland because I feel necessary.&nbsp;I feel like there is potential to affect real change in Auckland. This is probably naive. I accept this. But I think to be in the world and certainly to make work in the world, one needs to live under the illusion of purpose. Collaborating with the right people gives me purpose. And it takes so much time to find those people—don’t be in a hurry to find them. <img width="594" height="514" width_o="594" height_o="514" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/c76b31eb562a65c197567e8b9a766660206e201da1d7e5ffd9b1656ea89dbe1d/Screen-Shot-2021-12-01-at-9.39.32-AM.png" data-mid="126087678" border="0" data-scale="28" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/594/i/c76b31eb562a65c197567e8b9a766660206e201da1d7e5ffd9b1656ea89dbe1d/Screen-Shot-2021-12-01-at-9.39.32-AM.png" /> Power Ballad 2017<img width="1601" height="1638" width_o="1601" height_o="1638" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/c9d0a170d4072cf7abaa355de2bf9fc6c9f37494d498879d348939a2da463111/power-ballad-1.jpg" data-mid="125874361" border="0" data-scale="91" alt="Image of Julia Croft in Power Balled by Peter Jennings" data-caption="Image of Julia Croft in Power Balled by Peter Jennings" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/c9d0a170d4072cf7abaa355de2bf9fc6c9f37494d498879d348939a2da463111/power-ballad-1.jpg" />Image of Julia Croft in Power Ballad, taken by Peter Jennings, 2017 <img width="2456" height="1064" width_o="2456" height_o="1064" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/2990a0662bb7accbb3e8d2aac80b5efe3e503d7f6e51e25cc6a3a5f5950e14ba/Screen-Shot-2021-12-01-at-9.39.47-AM.png" data-mid="126087654" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/2990a0662bb7accbb3e8d2aac80b5efe3e503d7f6e51e25cc6a3a5f5950e14ba/Screen-Shot-2021-12-01-at-9.39.47-AM.png" /> NM: We stole this vocal effects pedal from Indian Ink Theatre Company while we were doing a show with them that we hated. We took it home and started singing karaoke through it while playing around with the effects. I sang Big Spender in a Tinkerbell voice and you screamed out Because The Night in a voice called Thicker You which was just your voice but a bit thicker, a bit deeper. When we decided to make a show about language we thought it made sense to explore what voice does in a theatre. We thought about the microphone and the power it holds and who gets to hold the microphone. We thought about what would happen if you took the microphone and found out what you could say if you weren’t really you, but you with a voice that was just a little bit thicker, a bit deeper. We laughed. A lot. And then gave birth to a demon child called Deep Talker, the angriest, most confused feminist in the world. It was a way to scream, “FEMINIST THEATRE” and “MAY THE STREETS RUN RED WITH THE BLOOD OF THE STRAIGHT WHITE MALE,” while not really having to be held to account. It’s just theatre after all, and you were just performing this thing and using a silly voice effect. But in our hearts that’s what we were screaming all of the time as we were rolling on the floor, laughing. JC: I remember you directing the show while lying on the floor in your bra and underwear, because it was summer and the room we were working in was fucking hot. But I mostly remember that I would do things on the floor and then you would re perform them for me to see if I liked it and then I would do it back again. I think we accidentally invented a way of making work where each part of the show had been through each of our bodies so many times that you couldn’t say which part of the show belonged to either of us. I still hold this up as perhaps the ideal way in which collaboration can work. If we were more intellectual I would call it embodied collaboration. I think splitting or disrupting the roles that have historically been subject to hierarchy within a process is a feminist act. And I read somewhere (I can’t remember where) that joy is a feminist strategy and I believe that to be true. The ways one can incorporate joy into the generating of work I now think is probably key to a successful work. I think this is especially true if one makes work from a place of anger. Which is mostly my MO. Anger gives me energy and is part of my everyday experience as a woman and making work from this place is the only way I can find to make sense of the world. <img width="2048" height="1226" width_o="2048" height_o="1226" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/414baba6ae9a399e3b972fad41a2f1f80920a0a44e8750797208962b47a22e97/aBCD_8792_edited-1.jpg" data-mid="125874532" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/414baba6ae9a399e3b972fad41a2f1f80920a0a44e8750797208962b47a22e97/aBCD_8792_edited-1.jpg" />Image of Julia Croft in Power Ballad, taken by Peter Jennings, 2017 NM: We talked alot about the idea that to admit uncertainty, to admit that you don’t know seemed like a super radical thing to do.&nbsp; We were burnt out by processes in the mainstream, TV and theatre worlds that felt patriarchal, full of weird daddy issues.&nbsp; We wanted to create this gooey space where we were allowed to be floppy and as clueless in the performance as we were in our lives.&nbsp; But we wanted to make the statement that to be uncertain could be as strong as being certain. Like how they build big towers to sway in earthquakes, or giant structures out of bamboo.&nbsp; If something is rigid it's breakable.&nbsp; If it’s flexible it can bounce back. We made that moment where you are lying down, after spending all your energy belting out Alone by Heart.&nbsp; You are lying down and you let your hair out and talk in your own voice for the first time.&nbsp; You say ‘I don't know’ over and over and over again.&nbsp; Some people must have hated that.&nbsp; But we loved it.&nbsp; It felt really free and kind of like a gentle protest.&nbsp; So we put a spotlight on you and after 50 performances we realised that you looked like Mr Bean in the opening credits, where he falls and goes ‘splat’ on the concrete under a floodlight.&nbsp; Whenever you did that part I’d perch on the seats like a vulture or something, elbows raised, ready to swoop down from some deep protective instinct over you.&nbsp; <img width="2048" height="1679" width_o="2048" height_o="1679" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/5360a540c2433599b4eb0cc3904ec68389eb6490e6117bc1ece83275ca97e3d9/aBCD_8513_edited-1.jpg" data-mid="125874379" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/5360a540c2433599b4eb0cc3904ec68389eb6490e6117bc1ece83275ca97e3d9/aBCD_8513_edited-1.jpg" />Image of Julia Croft in Power Ballad, taken by Peter Jennings, 2017 NM: This was the first show I made after divorcing my straight, white, middle aged husband.&nbsp; I still find it incredible, that very clear obvious-to-the-point-of-cliche stance I made - divorcing the patriarchy and turning into a white haired feminist artist - an image I once described to my therapist as my vision of myself in my forties.&nbsp; I remember you and I feeling so sick before opening.&nbsp; There was so much at stake for both of us.&nbsp; For me it was hoping for a sign that I could do this on my own.&nbsp; And when it worked...I remember you standing there, mouth open, eyes closed, Pat Benatar lyrics blazing across the back wall.&nbsp; One voice, then two, then the whole audience singing.&nbsp; And you looked like you were going to cry.&nbsp; My hair grew whiter and my heart swelled so fucking big. <img width="2418" height="1012" width_o="2418" height_o="1012" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/36297050dc481e312e62aafc89855395f3e6fe9847597e652f1d27e0ce4d42fa/Screen-Shot-2021-12-01-at-9.40.04-AM.png" data-mid="126087633" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/36297050dc481e312e62aafc89855395f3e6fe9847597e652f1d27e0ce4d42fa/Screen-Shot-2021-12-01-at-9.40.04-AM.png" /> Medusa 2018 <img width="1680" height="2520" width_o="1680" height_o="2520" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/b4bdda30554f752a860da4d2c0b2f655c60a7e9e0e571c1b7079a2ae9c72c63b/Julia-Croft---Medusa.png" data-mid="125874463" border="0" data-scale="75" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/b4bdda30554f752a860da4d2c0b2f655c60a7e9e0e571c1b7079a2ae9c72c63b/Julia-Croft---Medusa.png" />Image of Julia Croft in Medusa, taken by Andi Crown, adapted by Nisha Madhan and William Duignan, 2018 <img width="2430" height="982" width_o="2430" height_o="982" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/3f4ae8d2ce77f90991af965a8aaa4026f30bde5bb02ebebe9fc817c8a0f84c4c/Screen-Shot-2021-12-01-at-9.40.16-AM.png" data-mid="126087625" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/3f4ae8d2ce77f90991af965a8aaa4026f30bde5bb02ebebe9fc817c8a0f84c4c/Screen-Shot-2021-12-01-at-9.40.16-AM.png" /> NM: We made this show with our friend Virginia. And from the start all we really wanted to do was smash apart something with sledgehammers. For a long time we thought it might be a giant block of ice. In the end it was the stage. And underneath the stage was 400 kilograms of clay and that was definitely your idea.&nbsp;Somehow we always mess ourselves up so that we have to have showers afterwards. I think it is because we talk about the injustices and indecencies of structural racism and sexism so much that we end up designing these extreme theatre rituals to process it.&nbsp;We end up having to embody the arguments then smash them up and transform them into something else and that is hard work. It’s messy, bloody, sweaty work and when we are done and we shower we feel ready to do it again.&nbsp; To keep trying to break it all apart. Even when things like the Christchurch Mosque shooting happens, or no one believes Dr. Blasey-Ford, and we are limp and crying in our beds, we keep trying.&nbsp;We feel like the only thing that could possibly make sense is to smash up the stage with a sledgehammer and pull clay out of the earth and build ourselves anew with it. JC: Yeah sorry. The clay was 100 percent my idea. I take full credit for that. And I think it’s because I don’t really know how to talk about the oppression I feel without using metaphor. Because I think what’s exerted on the body needs to be expressed through the body. I think that this is where I started to see that the beautiful ways in which we bring ourselves to the process consciously and subconsciously are the material for the work. I feel like Nisha has a natural tendency to want to dismantle things methodically whereas I have a tendency to want to aggressively smash shit to pieces. Medusa was the meeting of these impulses. It can be measured and aggressive at the same time. Because when we tried to make it fully aggressive it felt too small. And made my anger feel small. It needed the opposite energy. And the more not-measured it got, the larger and more epic it felt. I think this work dealt with anger in a way that created space, rather than diminished it. It talked to the metaphor without representing the thing. <img width="1680" height="2520" width_o="1680" height_o="2520" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/af945f5508ed8a164c94ce24d34a252b3280961383f2f71b23c2a1c9f7699046/Nisha-Madhan---Medusa.png" data-mid="125874480" border="0" data-scale="83" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/af945f5508ed8a164c94ce24d34a252b3280961383f2f71b23c2a1c9f7699046/Nisha-Madhan---Medusa.png" />Image of Nisha Madhan in Medusa, taken by Andi Crown, adapted by Nisha Madhan and William Duignan, 2018 NM:&nbsp; There was this night that we often talk about.&nbsp; It was the night when something went wrong.&nbsp; The three microphones were supposed to descend from the ceiling, and the composer, Frances, had made a monstrously intricate, gorgon-like sound design.&nbsp; Each mic had its own detailed sonic dramaturgy, meticulously timed with our action and leveled to our unique ways of performing.&nbsp; We were standing there looking up at the grid, waiting for our mics to come down, which they did, except mine got stuck way up in the grid.&nbsp; We began our chant together and I stared at the mic thinking through the consequences of not having one for the rest of the show.&nbsp; We kept going until the first break in the text.&nbsp; Staring at the audience I thought, fuck it.&nbsp; What is the worst that can happen if I just admit that something’s wrong?&nbsp; I got up, marched up to the operator and asked her to get a ladder and fix it.&nbsp; Then you and I began this cheeky double act with the audience.&nbsp; We played a game of ‘maybe this was meant to happen.&nbsp; Maybe this is elaborately choreographed, you’ll never know will you?’&nbsp; We tried so hard to one up each other you ended up stealing someone’s wine and sculling it.&nbsp; That is the best of us on stage together: when we can’t help sinking into joyous and naughty games with our audience. It was the most difficult process we had run.&nbsp; As soon as the three of us, the three-headed-monster,&nbsp; left the safety of the imagined world and tried to make choices, the wheels came off entirely.&nbsp; There was a day in the Vault of Q Theatre where all of us just refused to go on.&nbsp; It was as if we had summoned the gorgon, channeled her and she came in full force, demanding us to stare directly at our bullshit and deal with it before moving on.&nbsp; All my past demons came in to run amuck, insecurities, regrets, deep fears.&nbsp; In the end the only thing that helped me was letting go of control.&nbsp; The process remained difficult right up to the very end.&nbsp; And while we are stoked with what we made, nothing beats the pride we have in our friend Virginia who, despite the emotional hardships and a severe concussion, grew her own baby gorgon throughout the process and named it Frederika.&nbsp; To this day she maintains that Frederika knows the sound of our voices as the chant of Medusa was the soundtrack to that first stage of growth in Ginnie’s womb. VF: I agree with you, we went into the process beautifully and naively with this optimism around creating a feminist process which resisted the notion of a Director or Auteur who would have ultimate control of the piece. I have such special memories looking back on that first week of rehearsals. Again - rejecting traditional notions of what a rehearsal week looked like, there were no read-throughs, mapping out the show on butcher's paper from 9am - 5pm, production meetings etc. We escaped to a cottage in the bushes of West Auckland with vats of red wine, ploughmans platters and some books. We spent hours eating, drinking, lighting fires and making sculptures with melted wax. It was that gooey delicious dreaming period where anything was possible. Perhaps it was that night under the fire with the unforgettable lamb curry bubbling and the wax dripping on paper that we conjured the Gorgon herself. We had no idea of what we were up against. I feel like I faced my biggest monster ever, as cliche as it sounds. I went head to head with my deepest fears and was forced to confront some pretty difficult stuff about myself. It truly was one of the most challenging times. I think for all of us. But every day we dragged our heels out of bed and made our way down the stairs to the dark recesses of 'The Vault' (the windowless rehearsal room at the pits of Queen St). And we battled through it. It was gruelling. Hard. Bloody. Gruesome. But then we birthed something. And it was beautiful. And I don't think it could have been any other way. I don't want to imagine the type of show we would have made in a conventional rehearsal studio working 9am - 5pm with weekly showings and neat production meetings. This show needed screaming matches. And sweat and tears. And resistance. And power struggles. And failures. And triumphs. I will forever be grateful for this experience I shared with you both - the beautifully problematic and dangerous triangle of Gorgons. Whenever I see you both there's that magical twinkle in our eyes. That knowing and understanding of a shared birth we experienced together. That will tie us together, always. <img width="1680" height="2520" width_o="1680" height_o="2520" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/ba5ab7e6136477ccbe483dc3cba18f3217369f407e1cc23f0069694397d2bb42/Virginia-Frankovich---Medusa.png" data-mid="125874490" border="0" data-scale="84" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/ba5ab7e6136477ccbe483dc3cba18f3217369f407e1cc23f0069694397d2bb42/Virginia-Frankovich---Medusa.png" />Image of Virginia Frankovich in Medusa, taken by Andi Crown, adapted by Nisha Madhan and William Duignan, 2018 NM: I often bring up this example when I talk to people about our work because it’s not often that people admit how difficult it is to try and do something different.&nbsp; Theatre stories are all about how dreamy it was, how amazing the triumph of getting through it was.&nbsp; The story of Medusa is how we forced ourselves to stay in the room together and allowed our wider team to take care of us. &nbsp; Each day we would begin with a healing ritual and end by washing our hands in absolution.&nbsp; In the end we had an electric, funny, beautiful piece of work, a brand new gorgon baby and a friendship that runs as deep as the figure of Medusa herself.&nbsp; If the three headed monster is at a party together, its laughter would ring high and its gaze would cut you to the bone. <img width="2478" height="1132" width_o="2478" height_o="1132" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/3c1ddcd944612b028d33e7fc8c15bf1f6081097a1285e8b3f9475f884093e215/Screen-Shot-2021-12-01-at-9.40.31-AM.png" data-mid="126087604" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/3c1ddcd944612b028d33e7fc8c15bf1f6081097a1285e8b3f9475f884093e215/Screen-Shot-2021-12-01-at-9.40.31-AM.png" /> Working on My Night Moves 2019 <img width="3600" height="2400" width_o="3600" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/12980ea9247f86c9dd7e394140b3993f2e82b0e20e99c053206d235dae883769/2K4A1836.jpg" data-mid="125874120" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/12980ea9247f86c9dd7e394140b3993f2e82b0e20e99c053206d235dae883769/2K4A1836.jpg" /> Image of Julia Croft in Working On My Night Moves, taken by Andi Crown, 2019 <img width="2412" height="958" width_o="2412" height_o="958" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/4eb625e84adc22e8d11fb3ef01ad03bc91af91b496078df339dc5d3b9a6e3711/Screen-Shot-2021-12-01-at-9.40.40-AM.png" data-mid="126087595" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/4eb625e84adc22e8d11fb3ef01ad03bc91af91b496078df339dc5d3b9a6e3711/Screen-Shot-2021-12-01-at-9.40.40-AM.png" /> NM: I remember starting with a light, just one, and swinging it around the floor. Then I remember we took a light down from the rig, just one, and we left it dangling in space.&nbsp;We’d never seen that before in a show. Then we hung a chair up, just one, in the roof. And I remember we played Nina Simone and projected the stars up on the roof and started crying. We always stick with the ideas that make us cry. We asked ourselves, how do we make something serene and calm and joyful, something that is free from being angry and sad at the patriarchy all the time, and more concerned with where we want to go, what future we could transition to…. So we just tried our best to get into outer space. And we decided to turn the entire room upside down. Because to ask what it would feel like to live in a world free of racism and misogyny is something like asking someone living in the sixteenth century what a life without God would be like when it’s everywhere, in everything; it’s in the screws that hold the goddamn building together. It’s almost impossible to do.&nbsp;But we just tried really hard to do it. And got stressed out in the process but also really, really peaceful. Really, really free. JC: After a few years of making work that felt oppositional, making Night Moves was such a relief. Entering into a process that was finally aiming to crack an alternative way of being in the world, not continually point out what was wrong with patriarchy, but instead build our own world. Turning it upside down is just the beginning. I think breaking binaries is beyond gender and it is beyond legislation, it is actually about imaginatively cracking our conceptions of the world. Like Power Ballad the formal ideas of Night Moves were moved between both of our brains. <img width="3600" height="2400" width_o="3600" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/9f11583b04aa23f29081838c455512643cd3be8cbeb640c75e8f0c09a45c5cc3/2K4A1740.jpg" data-mid="125874497" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/9f11583b04aa23f29081838c455512643cd3be8cbeb640c75e8f0c09a45c5cc3/2K4A1740.jpg" /> Image of Julia Croft in Working On My Night Moves, taken by Andi Crown, 2019 NM: I remember starting the process in residency at Battersea Arts Centre, a giant room with a knobbly wooden floor and high ceilings.&nbsp; Since Power Ballad, we have insisted on having key technical elements in the room.&nbsp; Too many times we have arrived at the theatre and allowed the technical elements, the lights and the sound to overwhelm us.&nbsp; Whether it’s a vocal effects pedal or a projector, we want to know how to work it, troubleshoot it so that we remain in control.&nbsp; We were playing around with this little birdie, swinging it around the floor and it felt like the light was dancing, but it wasn’t until we had exhausted our playlist of pop songs and went for the obvious choice, Working On My Night Move by Bob Seagar, that the whole thing just fell in place.&nbsp; Relaxing into an obvious choice, not trying so hard to be cool or perfectly experimental/intellectual, allowing ourselves to just enjoy a cheesy song.&nbsp; This is something you taught, me.&nbsp; Not to take oneself too seriously.&nbsp; Follow the fun, follow the joy, fuck what anyone else thinks. It was unreal dragging our bespoke par cans and star curtains across the globe to Edinburgh, performing it at 10pm at night and waking up to glowing reviews by Lyn Gardner, the well loved Guardian theatre critic.&nbsp; We remember feeling deeply misunderstood in Auckland.&nbsp; Even our biggest fans felt lukewarm about it.&nbsp; But somehow, in Edinburgh, that noisy cluttered space of troubled artistic economies, we managed to create this island of space and calm and beauty and destruction.&nbsp; There was the fact that you didn’t speak the entire time.&nbsp; The odd way you wouldn’t even look at the audience, letting them off the hook of needing to be pleased by you.&nbsp; There was the calm methodical way that you would shift the room around.&nbsp; A smouldering ember of an energy that was determined to leave the world behind. <img width="3600" height="2400" width_o="3600" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/819aba6e9208fda517d267db4e66f51d4efede14413154d4c73bea44be39bdbf/0B4A1074.jpg" data-mid="125874615" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/819aba6e9208fda517d267db4e66f51d4efede14413154d4c73bea44be39bdbf/0B4A1074.jpg" /> Image of Julia Croft in Working On My Night Moves, taken by Andi Crown, 2019 Even stranger was the feeling of leaving you and the team in Edinburgh and returning back to my job in Auckland.&nbsp; One morning you woke me up to tell me we had won a TOTAL Theatre award, a live art award whose lineage is peppered with many of our heroes, Forced Entertainment, Nic Green &amp; Rosana Cade, Selina Thompson, Ontroerend Goed, Action Hero.Our minds blown and cheeks dried with tears. The next year the pandemic hit.&nbsp; Something happens to us when we get away from Auckland.&nbsp; We relax immediately and grow bigger in ourselves.&nbsp; Maybe it is because our need to explain ourselves and fight for our work lessens.&nbsp; It’s like there’s enough space for us out there.&nbsp; Enough space for the work to live, liked or disliked, but brave and proud and strong in its identity.&nbsp; Maybe it’s pretentious.&nbsp; Maybe it’s just two people trying to work it out together. <img width="2502" height="1156" width_o="2502" height_o="1156" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/73e79b5747d66176b90a84d521d2a5a2468c754ace3c9df7dc2233a4ee847aad/Screen-Shot-2021-12-01-at-9.40.53-AM.png" data-mid="126087570" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/73e79b5747d66176b90a84d521d2a5a2468c754ace3c9df7dc2233a4ee847aad/Screen-Shot-2021-12-01-at-9.40.53-AM.png" /> Terrapolis&nbsp; 2021 (interrupted)<img width="3600" height="2400" width_o="3600" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/f1019256b9e88d38865222d9fd0495d85326be702cd1bb331c4f2ddfbd5207c4/0Q8A1325.jpg" data-mid="125962317" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/f1019256b9e88d38865222d9fd0495d85326be702cd1bb331c4f2ddfbd5207c4/0Q8A1325.jpg" />Image of Julia Croft in rehearsal for Terrapolis, taken by Andi Crown, 2021 <img width="2338" height="1006" width_o="2338" height_o="1006" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/1a0532c1f8a3ade9497c1a4ca00ff9ac11786040d7c5e4302767392f1745eee6/Screen-Shot-2021-12-01-at-9.41.13-AM.png" data-mid="126087512" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/1a0532c1f8a3ade9497c1a4ca00ff9ac11786040d7c5e4302767392f1745eee6/Screen-Shot-2021-12-01-at-9.41.13-AM.png" /> NM: This was the first time we have collaborated with distance in our roles.&nbsp; Terrapolis is very much yours, and I am the director of it.&nbsp; I’m the insurance you put in for yourself to make sure that what you intended was coming across.&nbsp; Or am I the insurance to make sure someone in the room will laugh at your jokes? We are always aware of not letting what we have together limit us or pin us down.&nbsp; It’s why we insist on names side by side.&nbsp; It means that we can leave and come back to the collaboration at any time.&nbsp; To do our own thing, or switch roles, or do something else like raise horses or start a food blog.&nbsp; Everything should be possible within this and without this.&nbsp; Coming into the room with you again after concentrating on my programming job at Basement was like coming home for the first time in years.&nbsp; My body felt like it was nuzzling into a familiar blanket on a rainy day.&nbsp; I knew it so well.&nbsp; JC: The best part of the whole process is you laughing at my jokes. Which is partly because I am a huge big show off and you find me funnier than most, but is partly because our sense of humour is so similar that you being in the room always speaks to something in me. It helps me push things more into the absurd. It helps me take things further than I otherwise would. And we laugh. And maybe that is the whole point. And when we are old and raising horses and pickling vegetables we can look back on this chaotic time when we used to make things, and pack them in suitcases and turn up in new and exciting cities. Making eachother laugh every step of the way. <img width="3600" height="2400" width_o="3600" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/bdf5fabc2f1e316ac2e1daf600da06b80a6755bb9e2ab0a9168935238799d066/0Q8A1362.jpg" data-mid="125962381" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/bdf5fabc2f1e316ac2e1daf600da06b80a6755bb9e2ab0a9168935238799d066/0Q8A1362.jpg" /> Image of Julia Croft in rehearsal for Terrapolis, taken by Andi Crown, 2021 NM: Drinking together afterwards and gassing ourselves up as we do after intense rehearsal days, we realised that this was the first process where it felt like things were working.&nbsp; The first time we felt truly confident in what we were doing.&nbsp; Confident that there are somethings we know and many things we don’t, but sharing both with an audience is how we get to move forward. When the wall came down on August 17th, halfway through our technical run, a bleak reality settled on us.&nbsp; We were really stuck here in New Zealand with no way out.&nbsp; It strikes me that Terrapolis was our first major work since the touring life of Night Moves was cut short by the pandemic.&nbsp; We had built our careers on the promise of space and acceptance overseas.&nbsp; Our work was meant to travel to havens, islands of safety, away from this one that tends to look at us with condescending head tilts.&nbsp; We love it here, but why is it so hard to stay here?JC: Because I feel understood outside of Aotearoa far more than I have ever felt understood inside it. And everytime we left i would see work that would be so much better than what i was making, richer, more detailed, more cohesive, braver. And I would come home with a little fire lit under me. The travel and the works and the relationships with artist kin built off those works were the inspiration. Maybe that’s why I am thinking about horses and pickles more now. I am tired. I am sick of fighting. <img width="3600" height="2400" width_o="3600" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/5b5c0f73fa99ff9aa0b9ab5c206bd740f84b8e80393395e1be770577b9c4c67c/0Q8A1332.jpg" data-mid="125962508" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/5b5c0f73fa99ff9aa0b9ab5c206bd740f84b8e80393395e1be770577b9c4c67c/0Q8A1332.jpg" /> Image of Julia Croft in rehearsal for Terrapolis, taken by Andi Crown, 2021 NM:&nbsp;We left behind our rocks, the real stars of the show, packed our designers into a car and sent them back to Pōneke. Like Night moves in Pimlico, Power Ballad in Malo Vadora, Medusa in storage, Terrapolis lies waiting for us.&nbsp; Artifacts, if dug up by some future archeologist, a genderfluid Indiana Jones or Sam Niell, will speak to some survival based friendship.&nbsp; Strange rituals with uncanny outcomes.&nbsp; As they piece together our particular Stonehenges, created to weave a spell of liberation from our different and similar intersections, they might feel….I don’t know. JC: I Hope so. <img width="2432" height="908" width_o="2432" height_o="908" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/353f2475caea6c92c63dfbbba16246bf8941e01e889f8215b2632d364943d005/Screen-Shot-2021-12-01-at-9.41.22-AM.png" data-mid="126087323" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/353f2475caea6c92c63dfbbba16246bf8941e01e889f8215b2632d364943d005/Screen-Shot-2021-12-01-at-9.41.22-AM.png" /> 1&nbsp; Ahmed, S. (2019), pg 9. Living A Feminist Life. Duke University Press. https://islandsofhope.cargo.site/Bibliography Sat, 28 Aug 2021 23:26:10 +0000 Islands of Hope and Care https://islandsofhope.cargo.site/Bibliography BIBLIOG RAPHY Sources for Intention Ahmed, Sara. Living A Feminist Life. 1st Edition. USA: Duke University Press, 2017. Ayn Rand Institute. “Introducing Objectivism?” by Ayn Rand.&nbsp; From YouTube. Video, 09.01. Posted by Ayn Rand Institute, May 17, 2013&nbsp; https://youtu.be/EmcmauM78FE Harraway, Donna. Staying With The Trouble - Making Kin in the Chthulucene. Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2016. Schechner, Richard.&nbsp;Schechner. Performance Studies: an Introduction. London; New York: Routledge, 2002 for Time Space Power Live Art Development Agency "LADA." August, 2021. thisisliveart.co.uk/. Sofaer, Joshua. What is Live Art? From the Website. Video 05.00. August, 2002. www.joshuasofaer.com/2011/06/what-is-live-art/ Heathfield, Adrian, ed. LIVE: Art and Performance. 1st Edition. London: Tate Publishing, 2004. Ahmed, Sara. Living A Feminist Life. 1st Edition. USA: Duke University Press, 2017. Auckland Fringe "2017 Auckland Fringe Award Winners." Accessed August, 2021. https://www.aucklandfringe.co.nz/award-winners-2017. Neill, Sam dir. Red Mole on the Road. 1979; Aotearoa: Youtube, accessed August, 2021. youtube.com/watch?v=jzQURCYeqv4&amp;ab_channel=ArchivesNewZealand. Solnit, Rebecca. Hope In The Dark, The Untold History of People Power. 3rd Edition. Great Britain: Cannongate Books, 2016. Raymond, Rosana. “A Walk Through My Eylands. The Pacific Legacy Project.” The Pantograph Punch. 20th November, 2020.&nbsp;https://pantograph-punch.com/posts/walk-through-my-eyelands Iti, Tame. "Tame Iti: artist and activist." By Kim Hill. Saturday Morning, Radio New Zealand. Tuhiwai Smith, Linda. Decolonizing Methodologies - Research and Indigenous Peoples. 3rd Edition. Great Britain: Zed Books, 2001 Phelan, Peggy. "On Seeing The Invisible." In LIVE: Art and Performance, edited by Adiran Heathfield, page 16-27. London: Tate Publishing, 2004. Millica, Zec dir. Marina Abramovic on Rhythm 0. From Vimeo. Video 03.07. 2012. https://vimeo.com/71952791 Heathfield, Adiran. "After the fall Dance-theatre and Dance-performance." In Contemporary Theatres in Europe, A Critical Companion, edited by Joe Kelleher and Nicholas Ridout, page 285 - 290. New York: Routledge, 2006. Norman, SJ. “Sarah Jane Norman responds to Marina Abramovic.” ABC. 25th August, 2016.&nbsp;https://www.abc.net.au/radionational/programs/awaye/sarah-jane-norman-responds-to-marina-abramovic/7784750 Kirker, Alice. "Jelly Baby." AMK. Accessed August, 2021. https://www.alicemaykirker.com/shows/jellybaby. Bailey, Marlon. "Gender/Racial Realness: Theorizing the Gender System in Ballroom Culture." Feminist Studies, 37 no. 2 (June 2011): 365-386. Tanuvasa, Jaycee. "The Nest Q&amp;A" Recorded 17/07/21.&nbsp;https://soundcloud.com/basementtheatre/the-nest-qa Livingston, Jennie, dir. Paris is Burning. 1990; USA: Watch Documentaries, accessed August 2021. https://watchdocumentaries.com/paris-is-burning/. Ruka, Cat. "Cat Ruka Talks The Nest." Basement Theatre News, June 30, 2021. https://basementtheatre.co.nz/news/2021/6/30/cat-ruka-talks-the-nest. Cogitore, Clément, dir. Les Indes Galantes by J-P. Rameau : "Forêts paisibles". October 1, 2019; Paris: YouTube, accessed August, 2021. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q4jy2wrjESQ&amp;ab_channel=Op%C3%A9ranationaldeParis. Diderot, Denis, Discours Sur La Poésie Dramatique. In: D. Diderot, Oeuvres complètes III. Paris, 1970 for A Reason to Rest Madhan, Nisha. "LIVE (Why I’m Not In A Hurry." Words by Nisha Madhan. Updated April 1, 2020. wordsbynishamadhan.home.blog/2020/04/01/live-why-im-not-in-a-hurry/ Tan, Rosabel. “We Can Build A New Utopia.” Te Taumata Toi-a-iwi. January, 2021. tetaumatatoiaiwi.org.nz/we-can-build-a-new-utopia/ Creative New Zealand. “Research reflects significant challenges of making a living as a creative professional in Aotearoa.” Creative NZ. creativenz.govt.nz/news/research-reflects-significant-challenges-of-making-a-living-as-a-creative-professional-in-aotearoa Bridle, James. Other Intelligences // Spy on Me #2 Online Programme. From YouTube. Video52.24. Posted by “321HAU,” March 20.2020. youtube.com/watch?v=-S3rJnTxFoY&amp;ab_channel=321HAU Henry, Janaye (@janayeh). “She/her🌈 Māori 🍃 a bloody DELIGHT.” Instagram, www.instagram.com/janayeh/ Leo’o Olo, Sieni (@king.ulavale). “Haha shame, made you look.” Instagram, instagram.com/king.ulavale/ Tyrell, Pati (@patityrell). “Photographer | Performance Cofounder @FAFSWAG | Laureate 2020 Queer Pasifika 🌊🌺✨.” Instagram, www.instagram.com/patityrell/ FAF SWAG (@FAFSWAG). “The silent pressure and unspoken expectation of our industry…” Twitter, April 8, 2020. twitter.com/FAFSWAG/status/1247818245094010881 Page, Emma. “Meet the next generation of NZ's top artists.” Stuff, February 23, 2020. FAFSWAG. "FAFSWAG Vogue." FAFSWAG Vogue. fafswagvogue.com Frankovich, Virginia (@virginiafrankovich). "broken selfie, 2019." Instagram, November 23, 2019. instagram.com/p/B5Me4alp2aQC3XNTF30yUVKIi2OMULnYGU6guI0/ Solnit, Rebecca. Hope In The Dark, The Untold History of People Power. 3rd Edition. Great Britain: Cannongate Books, 2016. Cuboniks, Laboria. The Xenofeminist Manifesto: A Politics for Alienation. 1st Edition. United Kingdom: Verso, 2018. Warnecke, Lauren. "Art and performance during the time of COVID-19 lockdown." Agenda 34, no. 3 (2020): 145-147. Rand, Ayn. Capitalism, The Unknown Ideal. USA: Penguin Group, 1946. Ahmed, Sara. "Refusal, Resignation and Complaint." Feminist Killjoys (blog). feminsitkilljoys, June 28, 2018. feministkilljoys.com/2018/06/28/refusal-resignation-and-complaint/Sosa, Fannie. "The White Institutions Guide to Welcoming Artists of Colour and their Audienes" The WIG (website). 2016 - 2020. https://www.galeriegalerieweb.com/en/webtheque-2/the-wig-2/ for RollingOn The Floor, Laughing Ahmed, Sara. Living A Feminist Life. 1st Edition. USA: Duke University Press, 2017. https://islandsofhope.cargo.site/Intention Thu, 26 Aug 2021 22:27:08 +0000 Islands of Hope and Care https://islandsofhope.cargo.site/Intention INTENTION <img width="1704" height="1136" width_o="1704" height_o="1136" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/c5f910394eef9dac26d013b3f3706d2f22d13b014c1d2ebfc12281731f102f5a/61351713_1249724971853417_4603021171015811072_o_1249724968520084.jpeg" data-mid="125884596" border="0" data-scale="74" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/c5f910394eef9dac26d013b3f3706d2f22d13b014c1d2ebfc12281731f102f5a/61351713_1249724971853417_4603021171015811072_o_1249724968520084.jpeg" /> Virginia Frankovich, Julia Croft and myself in rehearsals for Medusa, taken by Andi Crown, 2018 This collection of writing and performance is about my experience of making experimental, live art in Aotearoa as an Indian-immigrant-feminist artist.&nbsp; In many ways it is about the way that I survive in this world and the ping pong effect that growing up with feminist values inside a capitalist, neo-liberal upbringing and environment has had on me.&nbsp; While feminism has moved much further on than the second wave rallies of the 1960s, the well-loved phrase, “the personal is political,” acts as my social system for this collection, which spans twenty years of making art in Aotearoa, New Zealand. Once I had shrugged off the colonial spell of Shakespeare et al. in my twenties, I gravitated heavily toward the multiplicitous nature of live art in my thirties.&nbsp; I use live art to express, question and heal from living a life of discrimination.&nbsp; As a marginalised form, live art aligns itself naturally with an intersectional viewpoint. In Time, Space and Power I talk about how it is a practice that resists colonial structures. It allows for storytelling that softens the linear edges of defining people of colour through their cultural identity alone.&nbsp; It allows us to soften the edges between a performer and her audience. It allows us to soften the edges between you, the page, the stage and me. Live art has been a useful way for me to enter conversations about feminism, cultural identity and decolonisation through art. However, at the time of compiling this collection, these conversations are rapidly moving from decolonisation to re-indigenising the way we make art and the institutions that carry that art. So, as I continue rewriting the story of harm caused to me through racial inequity and gender bias, I now face a crucial questioning of the very tools that helped me begin to tear down the walls that hemmed me in. Live art itself still hails from a Western, privileged and elite society, even though it was built to resist and challenge the status quo. I am now sceptical of saying that it is these processes that allow us, artists of colour, a fuller way to express ourselves, free from a colonial/patriarchal gaze.&nbsp; Really, it is a Western label that acts as a convenient container for the kinds of art that was in our blood and bones to begin with. The useful processes I attribute to live art were already present in my ancestry, but dulled and gaslit by the Western gaze and its obsession with capitalism as its social system.&nbsp; The saris that my mother was no longer welcome to wear, the lavish neighbourhood Diwali parties she could no longer throw after moving to the West are tiny examples of a rich and creative inheritance that I struggled to connect with after moving to Aotearoa from Doha, Qatar, via the Himalayas and, my complicated home, New Delhi.&nbsp; Direct results of colonisation, patriarchy and capitalism. I have spent the better part of two decades believing I had to discover something new in order to arrive at the “postfeminist fantasy: that an individual woman can bring what blocks her movement to an end.”1 In Under The Light of a Full Moon, I take a strong a lead from Sara Ahmed’s&nbsp; Living A Feminist Life and reject the notion that I discovered feminism through emigrating from East to West and instead remember where I found feminism, where feminism found me, and who I learned from2. I want to rediscover, remember and re-indigenise the tools learnt from my first feminist teachers, my mother, my grand mothers, my aunties; learnings that I had resisted for a long time as I gazed wistfully at the West, at Whiteness, as the benchmark of personal freedom. Through largely co-self-taught and co-self-built processes of intersectional collaboration with my artistic peers (poetically expressed in Rolling On The Floor Laughing, or, ROFL), I now treasure my ancestral tools as part of my arsenal of weapons intended to dismantle, destroy, and dissolve those pesky colonial / patriarchal walls. Day to day, I find myself resisting and relenting to wider socio economic power structures at play in the world, and I’ve chosen to use art and the fostering of its process as a tool to express the push and pull of living through gender and racial discrimiation.&nbsp; I am now entering a third decade of making art combined with my job as a programmer of independent artists and their work at the Basement Theatre in Tāmaki Makaurau.&nbsp; In a world that is actively surviving through the effects of a global pandemic, civil reckonings and rising sea levels, my central questions now turn from myself toward the structures of making art from relational, economic, social and political perspectives. In A Reason To Rest, I call for a departure from the neo-liberal rhythms our existing arts structures continue to play out, despite the enforced slowing down of this beat that the Covid-19 pandemic has encouraged in the arts worldwide. This collection is a political reply to the conditions of creating live art work in Aotearoa and could be seen as islands from which you might observe various entry points for living an intersectional, artistic life.&nbsp; And, in defiance to language, to Western academia, and Ayn Rand's thin and dangerous philosophy, objectivism3, I will switch, slip, dodge and ping pong from objective to subjective in tone to reflect what Donna Haraway would simply term “staying with trouble.”4&nbsp;By which I mean, I’d rather sit in kinship with my questions and all that makes up the muck of my world, than imagine myself as any kind of expert in dominance over it. Sometimes I will play into the tones that universities, arts organisations, and the Western-colonial-patriarchy demands of me.&nbsp; Sometimes I will not.&nbsp; Rather than offer a clean, linear, well beaten out narrative, here, I offer you episodes through which you might map your own journey through the Time and Space we live in today. If the social system of this work is personal and political, then, in gentle resistance against the dominant powers within art and its making, the qualities of hope and care (practised daily out of necessity by QTBIPOC artists) are the currency of this collection.&nbsp; These&nbsp;islands of hope and care offer moments of clarity from within a complex set of intersections for fellow artists to rest upon. &nbsp; Though some of these intersections have stark realities for artists, I would like to draw on a sentiment by Rebecca Solnit in making the case for hope: “hope doesn’t mean denying these realities.&nbsp; It means facing them and addressing them by remembering”; on top of that, hope in itself, “can be an act of defiance.”5 1 Ahmed, Living A Feminist Life, 9. 2 Ahmed, Living A Feminist Life, 8. 3 Ayn Rand Institute. “Introducing Objectivism” by Ayn Rand. 4 Harraway. Staying With The Trouble - Making Kin in the Chthulucene, 3 5 Solnit, Hope In The Dark, 9 &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; https://islandsofhope.cargo.site/Under-The-Light-Of-A-Full-Moon Sat, 28 Aug 2021 23:27:11 +0000 Islands of Hope and Care https://islandsofhope.cargo.site/Under-The-Light-Of-A-Full-Moon Under the Light of a Full Moon“how to keep coming up against histories that have become concrete, histories that have become as solid as walls.” - Sara Ahmed This is a hybrid digital &amp; IRL kitset performance about colonisation and art. &nbsp; It is ideally done with an accompanying set of objects. Please email me through nisha.usha.madhan@gmail.com to organise one. Otherwise feel free to read and listen without one. Enter the password: dreamdreamdream Instructions &nbsp; Before you begin you will need a computer with internet access in front of you on a surface like a table.&nbsp; You will also need a lighter or some matches nearby.&nbsp; You can experience this with a friend, but more than two becomes a bit of a crowd. This piece lasts 45 minutes. Opening Set to the backdrop of the Ganges flowing with an accompanying box of objects. To my younger self, Dear one.&nbsp; Meri Jaan In front of you is the river Ganga, a famous and sacred river that flows through India and Bangladesh.&nbsp; The ashes of your ancestors have all flowed into this river, through a tributary river called the Yamuna, one of five rivers that run through Punjab. In this experience you have some&nbsp; instructions to follow.&nbsp; All you need to do is relax and follow the instructions as best you can.&nbsp; They are simple, gentle and there’s no right or wrong way to do them. You can also choose not to follow them, and play along in a way that feels comfortable for you.&nbsp; You do you babe.&nbsp; No one is looking. The first instruction to follow (or not) is to turn the brightness on your screen right down until it is black.&nbsp; Usually you find the brightness button at the top left hand corner of your keyboard, right next to the escape button, with little sun-like symbols on them.&nbsp; Let's try to do this in time together on the count of 3, and if not, no big deal, we’ll survive.&nbsp; Ready? 3,2,1. There.&nbsp; Now it’s just you and me. You also have a box in front of you.&nbsp; In this box are a few items that you’ll need. The next instruction is to simply put both your hands on the box, in whatever way feels comfortable while you listen. You are an artist. You have always been an artist.&nbsp; You have been here in Aotearoa, making your art for nearly twenty years and you have spent most of that time trying to shake off the colonial spell of writers like Shakespeare and his globally lauded generations to come of white boys only clubs. Then live art showed up like a rainforest. A complex and messy, tangled up root system, some of it bound and rotting, some of it sprawling and thriving. Instead of chains of being and orders of the universe making clear and cleanly defined stories,&nbsp; it was able to tell many stories from many viewpoints&nbsp; - from the roots, to the insects, to the soil, to the plants above ground, rich in perspectives. Being someone from a background that wouldn’t even touch the sides of a great chain of being, you loved that. That everything was possible at once in all its complexity. Live art is a marginalised form, like you, it’s the nerdy wannabe punk of the performance world, like you, and it aligns itself naturally with intersectional viewpoints, just like you. Live art resists colonial power and allows you an escape route from a white gaze and a male gaze. It allows for storytelling that softens the edges of defining people of colour, like you, through identity politics alone.&nbsp; It allows you to wholeheartedly throw the clean and clear answer expected to the question, “No, but….. where do you really come from?” straight in the bin.&nbsp; It allows you to soften the edges between you and your audience. It allows you to soften the edges between us and them and you and me. Once you begin to locate and question power, you will never stop.&nbsp; You&nbsp; realise that Live art still hails from a Western, privileged and elite society, I mean,, the term was created in the United Kingdom and you discovered it in a book in Brussels which is the home of the European Union. You&nbsp; become sceptical of saying that live art allows you a fuller way to express yourself, free from colonial/patriarchal eyes.&nbsp; Really, it is another Western label that is&nbsp; a convenient little box for the kinds of art that is already in your blood and bones. In this experience you'll remember your bloodlines and cherish yourself in a world that is forgetting the origin of it’s own blood.&nbsp; Take full advantage of this opportunity to treasure the ancestral tools learned from aunties, mothers and grandmothers in your majestic family tree. This is not a live art experience. This is a new ritual, complex and messy,&nbsp; pieced together from the root system of your histories. . Use it when you want to blur, bamboozle, and break away from pesky colonial and patriarchal eyes. Unboxing Let’s Begin. Open the box. Inside you will see five objects.&nbsp; A small bundle of red thread, a candle, a photo, a package, and a vial of water. There’s also a small card in there with your name on it.&nbsp; Save that for after. And you should have some matches or lighter next to you ready to go. Object 1 - The Meaning of Thread Take out the small bundle of red thread and stretch it out between your fingers. This thread could represent a river, or a road, or a line on a map, a border or a boundary, if you laid the thread out on the surface in front of you and thought of your fingers as legs and your fingertips as feet you could make your fingers walk the length of the thread or road or river.&nbsp; It could represent a journey, a hikoi, perhaps it represents the newly created border of Pakistan and India that your ancestors left behind in 1947, or your parents crossing into the Middle East in 1981, or the Waitemata harbour line that&nbsp; the ship arriving with all of your stuff sailed in to in&nbsp; 1995.&nbsp; Maybe it represents a wall, brick wall, a dry wall, a long and historic wall, the great wall of China, the wall you sat on in the mountains, legs dangling, eating sweets in the Himalayan sun.&nbsp; You think of walls a lot, you often feel walled in, but you should know that those walls in your mind were not installed by you, nor your mother. &nbsp; The building and installing of walls&nbsp; is done through knowing and manipulative practice over hundreds of years.&nbsp; Your dismantling of them will come down to knowing and heartfelt practice. The demolishing of walls is something you will become an expert in. You will spend too much time admiring walls and falling in love with them.&nbsp; They are beautiful.&nbsp; They are cool, aloof and unattainable like an unrequited crush.&nbsp; You spend years just wanting to throw yourself up against them over and over again no matter how hard they are to bust down.&nbsp; They are lined with white women in red bikinis drinking Coca-Cola and somehow staying slender with genetically perfect teeth.&nbsp; You spend a lot of time watching your mother follow suit, drinking Coca-Cola but somehow growing bigger and battling gum disease.&nbsp; She is years ahead of you in figuring out the practice of scaling walls.&nbsp; At this stage, in the eighties, she is using sugar, tobacco, family recipes with foreign ingredients, silk and cotton to finely cling to her Delhiite roots.&nbsp; In time though she will solely rely on memory, strong nails, interdental brushes and a radical amount of determination-fuelled love.&nbsp; She will perfect the art of scaling walls. And she will be as slender as she likes. And she will have perfect teeth. And she will be infinitely more beautiful than the Coca-Cola girls. She has tied hundreds of yards of red threads around your wrist, trying to protect you.&nbsp; Sometimes it was too tight and made you feel conspicuous.&nbsp; You already had way more hair on your arms than the Coca Cola girls did and they wore dainty charm bracelets, not raggedy red threads.&nbsp; You would pull at it, trying to escape. After all, look at this thread.&nbsp; Really it’s 2just 10 strands of dyed cotton, a textile import bought from a small shop in Sandringham. It’s a material, an item on a shopping list, a product.&nbsp; It’s a future tangled mess or a trap for a tiny animal.&nbsp; You would always feel guilty when you finally managed to snap it off your wrist. Yet somehow you can never bring yourself to throw it away. You will find yourself one day tying thread just like this onto your niece's wrist and will watch her wriggle out of it straight away, just like you did. Object 2 - The Meaning of a candle Leave the thread there.&nbsp; Let be a reminder of the space between us.&nbsp; If I were an actor on one side, you were the audience on the other side of this thread, it could represent the fourth wall, or a fifth dimension, a dimension where you and I can exist at the same time. Take out the candle next, and here’s where your matches or lighter comes into the story like a special guest star or celebrity cameo. An integral supporting character to the candle and thread’s well thought out plot.&nbsp; Place the candle on top of the thread as far left as you can go. Light the candle, and allow your matches or lighters to take their exit.&nbsp; Hover your hand high above the candle and lower it down as far as you can without burning yourself.&nbsp; Just until you can feel the heat.&nbsp; Try to stay here with the heat through the next bit, but if you feel uncomfortable just stop.&nbsp; Remember, no one is watching, it’s just you and me. This candle could represent the heat of the Delhi sun, the light reflected in the warm glow on your palm. &nbsp; Perhaps it represents essential life, cooked food, warmth, protection, a weapon to fight off predators.&nbsp; It could represent the first fire that man ever made like that scene in Cast Away where Tom Hanks finally gets his fire going and dances around it. Maybe it is the homecoming of Rama and Sita to rows of diyas, tea lights lit by their village to guide them. Maybe it’s ancient storytelling shadow play through fire. Perhaps the flame is the sun and the round white wax is the moon.&nbsp; Your grandmother accompanied you to the Taj Mahal.&nbsp; She will say to you before she dies, “there is nothing more beautiful than looking at the Taj Mahal under the light of a full moon.”&nbsp; But when she took you there the sun was beating down through smog, and it was crowded, and smelled like dust.&nbsp; And you were only small, you couldn’t see the building, you couldn’t see the walls.&nbsp; All you could see were your shoes jumbled up amongst everyone else's, you worried you wouldn’t be able to find them again as you held onto Nani’s hand.&nbsp; All you could see were throngs of brown men and women who did not look like the Coca Cola girls, happy and free.&nbsp; Brown faces lined with deeply carved ravines of stress.&nbsp; Eyes wide and wanting.&nbsp; You see a wall of these faces everytime you exit the airport in Delhi.&nbsp; You never know how to be in your body when you encounter the thick oppressive air that comes with arriving at Delhi airport.&nbsp; She had no idea how disembodied you will feel.&nbsp; You have no idea how you will find your shoes again. It was not your choice to be born in between borders or to have a keen sense in your flesh of where one country ends and another begins.&nbsp; You were simultaneously privileged and screwed for spending the first part of your life in aerospace. You grew up learning how to navigate small spaces, with your small feet through turbulence.&nbsp; You deserved to get on with feeling free and thinking about astrophysics, how to get beyond aerospace.&nbsp; You were sure that this was the natural state of the girls in the red bikinis. Alive and free and thinking about the solar system while hanging out with Keanu Reeves on those impossibly clean and cool pavements that belonged to the New Kids on The Block. You were sure that all this was right around the corner for you the day that mum and dad&nbsp; picked you up from the Himalayas and said that everything&nbsp; was on a ship headed for the Waitemata Harbour.&nbsp; A western, white and celluloid life lay ahead of you. If Western White was a colour in a Resene house paint catalogue, you would have happily painted yourself and everything you owned top to toe with it.&nbsp; You’d be there, the fancy new kid at school, Resene Western White with a classic pair of Doc Martins and an intimate knowledge of Janet Jackson and Mariah Carey’s back catalogue. When you arrive the smell is wet and green and dense, far from the dust and smog.&nbsp; You realise you will need to assimilate quickly and rethink your camoflauge. In the years to come you will watch your mother frustratingly try to keep the diwali diyas lit outside the door in the October wind. And maybe this candle represents all that but it’s also just&nbsp; just wax and wick.&nbsp; &nbsp; It’s butane and sulphur, it’s a potential hazard, a danger to a child, it’s an accident waiting to happen. It’s a useful thing in a blackout.&nbsp; It’s one of billions and trillions that are lit in India when a Grandmother dies.&nbsp; Or it’s just a junk shop find, something you can buy in bulk, a business in wax and tin, it’s another thing in the world that will need to decompose. &nbsp; For now, leave it burning.&nbsp; Object 3 - The Meaning of Cardamom The great chai hack. take out that little wax paper envelop Inside you'll find three cardamom pods. Rub these little guys between your fingers to release the smell. To make a great cup of chai you need THESE Black peppercorns Cloves Grated fresh ginger Loose leaf black tea, Milk and Sugar Drink with rusks. Have several rescue dogs around. Chew paan. Or use the great chai hack. Put three busted up cardamom pods into any cup of tea, allow to steep and add milk and sugar to your liking. For now, take out the vial of water. Open it up and plop your bruised pods in there.&nbsp; Screw the cap back on and place this vessel about two inches away from the candle. Allow to steep. Object 4 - The Meaning of a Photo <img src="https://lh7-rt.googleusercontent.com/docsz/AD_4nXeAHDl_vp6mvcf8YNCMSn8zhyPACZBgAqkY2NNLxtOmhfQKOHgSMTtCDAnOlTeW3KT-360UHe7OSc0k0rLvMjAiTRrO8lhzh61gktuVsaorlK5NzoNHzGdPqBwRcaVtJFEX5AnNk1tZRX1JJjiVx3Ri_A?key=e2Vr9ZV3TAmamdlnaSuwRw" width="319" height="425" style="width: 319px; height: 425px;"> Take out the photo, lean it against the box and place the candle directly in front of it. What were you doing feeding fresh milk to stray kittens by the Mosque that day?&nbsp; How did you get from temples and rivers to mosques and sand dunes to bush and black sand?&nbsp; From stray dogs in Delhi to stray cats in Doha to stray artists in Tāmaki, for some reason you were always determined to help them feel great about themselves.&nbsp; Maybe you thought that we were all in this together.&nbsp; You always identified with animals, even when you were winded by a cow in Nani’s garden or bitten by a rat in a cage in your great grandmother's yard, you thought the best of them and that you were the same as them.&nbsp; Was it altruism, kinship, or was it imagining yourself as Snow White, as Cinderella.&nbsp; Where kinship is so perfect, your animal friends would never bite back, they would only ever help in your pursuit of truth and freedom.&nbsp; Pure intentions for pure souls. Your first memory of your aunties is crystal clear. (music fade in for 10 seconds) They were teenagers and making a collage on the wall out of pictures from magazines and listening to pop music.&nbsp; Julia Roberts and Richard Gere, shoulder pads, high-waisted jeans, Madhuri Dixit and Hema Malini, Anil Kapoor and Shah Rukh Khan short haircuts, motorcycles.&nbsp; One of your aunties worked at the airport.&nbsp; She’d wake up at 5am and half asleep, tie an Air India sari and paint a bindi on in record timing.&nbsp; She’d spend all day at the edge of aerospace.&nbsp; She’d either be there to pick you up out of one aerospace, or send you off into another.&nbsp; Back and forth it went for you. Navigating invisible walls. An aunty for you was not just an add on to your major family occasions with caramels in their pockets.&nbsp; An aunty was an agent of freedom and love.&nbsp; She knew how to get you places and she knew how to make you feel like you belonged in your own skin.&nbsp; She gave you your first cigar paired with a glass of red. She stole the fancy cheese out of the fridge with you. She refused to marry until she was fifty.&nbsp; She moved to the hills and lived in an ashram.&nbsp; She regulary refreshes her plot to finally murder your uncle without leaving a trace. She introduced you to Prince and Cyndi Lauper, all in the dirt of New Delhi streets. You thought they were the coolest people you’d ever met, they were just like Coca Cola girls. well dressed and sexy they listened to pop music and dated boys but they were gloriously brown and devoted to their family at the same time.&nbsp; They treated you like you were entirely theirs and taught your body what protection feels like.&nbsp; Weighted, on all sides, like walls, but soft.&nbsp; So maybe his photo represents family, maternal lines, maybe it represents innocence.&nbsp; Maybe&nbsp; this photo represents feminism, tin all it’s intersectional glory. &nbsp; Maybe this is the cute little Indian girl at the end of the Jungle Book except this time she’s the centre of plot, rather than the epilogue and she refuses to play into any assumptions of who she is supposed to be or who she is about to become. &nbsp; Maybe this photo will single handedly lead to&nbsp; the collapse of the patriarchy and end of capitalism. Maybe it’s generational resistance or perhaps this photo will decolonize&nbsp; your mind in one fell swoop, as easy and effortless as taking a picture out of a box and looking at it.&nbsp; But you know that this is just light &nbsp; refracting in your eyes. &nbsp; It’s a chemical reaction, pixels on paper.&nbsp; It’s negative and positive playing together.&nbsp; It’s Kodachrome, the latest technology at the time it was taken. It’s a neat effect, a performance, a convenient way of tugging at your heart strings.&nbsp; It’s a result of your father’s passion for photography.&nbsp; It’s the result of your father’s adoration of you.&nbsp; Object 5 - The Meaning of Water Turn the vial of water upside down. Place it between the candle and the photograph. Today it is raining and the sun has refused to come up.&nbsp; Outside your cabbages are growing which dumbfounds you.&nbsp; How do some plants love the cold rain while others die in it?&nbsp; You never had a green thumb, you managed to kill a fair few birthday gift plants.&nbsp; But recently you’ve been growing and growing.&nbsp; Perhaps your inner life has slowed to the pace of photosynthesis and it is all you can understand now.&nbsp; You are practising kinship.&nbsp; With the kittens and strays, artists, plants. Everyday is a practise of kinship.&nbsp; Over empathising with bubbles in the swirl of your coffee thinking about that scene in the Jean Luc Godard movie.&nbsp; That close up on the bubbles as if they were the universe itself.&nbsp; You believe that everything, down to the song playing on the radio that happens to be your favourite is a sign that everything, all subjects and objects co-exist.&nbsp; That somehow the fate of candle and it’s flame are tangled up in the manufacturing of red thread and the result of the cardamon spice trade led to your father buying his first camera and role of Kodak film. Keep playing this game. Repeat it.&nbsp; Never end this game. It makes you feel sane and the playing of it will save you from a colonial grip inside you that is telling you something otherwise.&nbsp; It is telling you that you are alone in your thoughts, that you have no one to blame for this loneliness except your nature. &nbsp; It will tell you that your natural yearning for freedom is something that they invented, and that by pursuing it you are in agreement with them. It will tell you that there is only one way that the story goes. As they gaslit you, penetrating your molecules while in the walls of your mother’s womb, they want you to think that the only path to freedom for you is through playing their game, making their money, and resigning yourself to their gaze upon you. They will tell you the bubbles in the coffee are a product, when you are sure that it is a process&nbsp; They will tell you that the next rational step is not to eat the cabbage but to sell it and celebrate how smart you are for doing so, as if you invented the process of photosynthesis and the cabbage was just a guest star. They will tell you the kittens chose to be stray through their refusal to domesticate, when you are sure that all they need is food, not judgement.&nbsp; They will tell you that art is not essential to survive, but you are sure that it saved your life. The process of making art released the gas they lit in you, bursting it out of your molecules back into the atmosphere for your cabbage to turn into oxygen again despite the cold rain. Don’t believe them when they tell you that to be a part of a collective means giving up your freedom but do believe your father when he says he had to get as far away as possible.&nbsp; Believe him when he tells you that were it not for a battered copy of The Fountainhead or Atlas Shrugged, he wouldn’t be where he is today.&nbsp; And even though you do not understand it, believe that when he read those books, his molecules recognised the hurt of another who had been driven from her home, and that your molecules are inseparable from his.&nbsp; And you will be righteously selfish.&nbsp; And you will deny mysticism.&nbsp; And you will follow your own will.&nbsp; You will live out the story of the traumatised immigrant. You will distance yourself.&nbsp; You will try to be rational, to be objective and neutral, but&nbsp; you will never think of love as a business deal. Pick up the vial of water and unscrew the cap.&nbsp; Give it a good sniff.&nbsp; Perhaps the vial represents all those molecules, the rain, or oxygen, life and death.&nbsp; Maybe it represents the water of the river we imagined our thread to be. Perhaps it is the water that surrounds the Taj Mahal.&nbsp; if you look hard enough you might see the reflection of the marble tomb inside it.&nbsp; Perhaps the cardamom are the shoes I lost that day.&nbsp; You may think that this is the water that the girl in the photo is soaked in, playing holi with her cousins in her nani’s backyard. &nbsp; It could be the monsoon rain your mother and aunties would rush out to dance under. Or is it absolution, a cleansing of all the complexities of a centuries long exercise in superiority over your bloodlines that without a doubt shaped your relationship to your body, and therefore your sense of the world around you?&nbsp; Perhaps this charged elixir is your mote that you surround the walls of your body with.&nbsp; A way to begin leaking through your ruler's closed fist. This is water.&nbsp; It is two parts hydrogen and one part oxygen, a chemical compound.&nbsp; This is liquid.&nbsp; This is hydration, it’s a drink.&nbsp; It’s a life saver. It is a precious resource.&nbsp; It’s what makes up 75% of the planet and 75% of your body.&nbsp; When frozen it becomes&nbsp; solid. &nbsp;It’s the ice in Tom Hanks’ drink at the end of Cast Away, you know the scene where comes home after lighting all those fires and he says: “And now here I am , I’m back in Memphis talking to you, I have ice in my glass…(crying) and I’ve lost her all over again.” It’s the result of asteroids crashing into each other, creating planets, planets that get pelted by comets that create volcanoes, volcanoes that erupt and melt ice into oceans, oceans with tides that get pulled by moons, all orbiting around a star like the sun, and then your great grandmother was born, and her daughter was born, and your mother was born and you were born and then here we are, connected through an intricate network of wires and cables, and a million zillion tiny choices, looking at this vial of water, trying desperately to make a point about colonisation and art. A Toast Remember when we turned the brightness down on our computer?&nbsp; Let's reverse that action now.&nbsp; Together on 1, 2, 3. Here you are, back at the banks of the Ganga River.&nbsp; This river represents the ancient world that you are from.&nbsp; It is also one of the most polluted rivers in the world today.&nbsp; Whenever you look at it you remember the story of the doctor, throwing his fathers ashes behind him, dutifully drinking the water handed to him by the pandit.&nbsp; He’d spent the entire morning researching the bacterial counts of&nbsp; the river and prescribing himself antibiotics, knowing he’d have to drink the water.&nbsp; He still developed giardia. But at least he felt peaceful, knowing he had connected to something far far greater than himself. Now would be the time to hold your vial up and make a toast To your younger self, drenched in coloured water To your quiet and shy observations of the world To your refusals and your tantrums Your bridges burnt To the fire and the water and the wax and the thread Yo your ancestors and those of the land you wrote this on To your ancestors and those of the land you're listening on Your ancestors who stared at the moon and bathed in the sun Here’s looking at you. Let’s drink to that.&nbsp; Aerospace grows between you and the mosque, the sea and the sand dunes, the temple and rivers, the dust and the mountains. Instructions for ending (on a note in an envelope with recipient’s name on it at the bottom of the box) Thank you for participating in Under the Light of a Full Moon.&nbsp; I invite you to use or dispose &nbsp; of these objects as you like.&nbsp; You may like to use the cardamom in your next cup of tea.&nbsp; Burn the candle in front of a photo of your loved one.&nbsp; Put a message in the bottle. Put the photo in your wallet as a reminder of me.&nbsp; Perhaps people will think I am your child! Bury the thread in soil somewhere, a house plant, a garden, your compost.&nbsp; Bury it somewhere with the potential for life to grow.&nbsp; Made by Nisha Madhan Direction by Julia Croft Featuring clips from Guide, Lamhe, Hum Aapke Hain Kaun, Baaghi 2, Sholay, Beta, Sailaab, Vishwathma, and ChaalBaaz Photos and me and the moon taken by my father With special thanks to Emma Willis, Sananda Chatterjee, and my family.