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WELCOME From Gary Seston & The Epiphany Leadership Team
100 PERFORMING ARTS Artist biographies & performances from Dance & Music
THE COMPLETE COLLECTION From Literature, Photography & Visual Arts
DEPTHS OF TARTARUS The Film & Theatre Production
WELCOME “ART, FREEDOM AND CREATIVITY WILL CHANGE SOCIETY FASTER THAN POLITICS” (VICTOR PINCHUK)
EPIPHANY LEADERSHIP TEAM
EPIPHANY LEADERSHIP TEAM
EPIPHANY LEADERSHIP TEAM
EPIPHANY LEADERSHIP TEAM
EPIPHANY LEADERSHIP TEAM
EPIPHANY LEADERSHIP TEAM
EPIPHANY LEADERSHIP TEAM
THE COMPLETE COLLECTION
WHAT IT MEANS TO BE ASIAN Got to be on the ball, On top of it all, Don’t let your crown fall, Be the best or nothing at all. Try twice as hard Three times, Four times. But all they see is Hair like tar, Eye slits like scars, Yellow skin they say is Far from Ours. What are you? Nothing Nothing to them. Not matching their skin White Eyes stare you down, “Next.” They say, Unamused, with a frown. Hollywood A dream... And it will stay just that. Be polite, smile, all an act. Will I never be enough? Never seen anyone who looks like me On that screen, a nominee, Who gets lost at sea, A hero from nobody, Who finds true love, Changes the world, Saves the day. But the harsh truth is crystal clear, Makes it painful to persevere, That wash of hope then disappears, As I see for yet another year, No one with my hair My eyes, My skin, Smiling Holding the golden man. Will I never be enough?
And yet I still push on. Like a lovesick fool after an emotionally unavailable Lover. Is that to be my sad life story? Trapped in my very own purgatory? Subjected to remarks of derogatory, “You aren't what we're looking for, sorry.” The air in my lungs, Snatched. Leaving only an avalanche of tears. My heart beats so fast it is humming. Humming a sinister, eerie noise that drums in my ears. Will I never be enough? 1 in a million. 1 in a million. 1 in a million! The Autobiography of a Will-Never-Make-It Just-Sits-And-Takes-It Actress-But-Also-Not-An-Actress?! Carrying that weight like Atlas, Driving me to darkness. No. I'm sure there are 999,999 books just like that, 1 in a million. Will I ever be enough?
AMONG THE LEAVES
CLOUDS TOO FAR Oh, darling. Your voice, raise it oh so high above the clouds of our judgement for all below to see. Your lovely, sing-song, one of a kind, voice. I am sure you have oh so important things to say, surely. Lift your heads, you musn’t shy away from conflict, Oh how could you ever? Dissonance and all the death in the world can only bring us more joy, Truly. Tread lightly now though loves, you mustn't upset the demons under the bridges. Watch out for the path of eggshells, Oh - it’s invisible to the naked eye - you’ll know it when your soles bleed and blister. And careful now, your voices are sweet and your actions candied, but reaching for the clouds is one heck of a trip, don’t waste your energy. Besides, it’s not for you, my treasures, you are needed elsewhere, on the ground. Yes, perhaps you should consider staying on the ground. Who can reach the clouds? Oh, now that’s a complicated question, you’ll understand when you’re older
GUIDEBOOK FOR WILD THINGS WISHING TO BE TAMED
THE RIBBONWOOD TREE The sun shines through the cracks of the dark leaves, making Layla’s skin burn with the heat of another autumn morning. Her footsteps crunch as she steps through the thick Daintree Rainforest, the hum of crickets getting louder with each step. Layla reaches up to touch the leaves of her favourite Ribbonwood tree, the teethed margins rough over her soft fingers, leaving dark flakes scattered across her palm. The soft drone of the waterfall nearby becomes white noise as she adjusts to her surroundings. The wind whisps her hair back as she crouches to sit near the tree trunk, her subtle blonde highlights shine brighter as she kneels into the light. She picks at the brown bark covering the tree trunk, the bark gets between her black painted fingernails she had done the night before. Flaky autumn leaves fall from the tree, landing on Layla’s shoulder with a soft thud, as small sticks get caught in her ginger coloured hair. Her fingers trace outlines in the small pond beside her. Tadpoles swim around her fingers, unaware of the outside world. It’s the first time she’s away from the chaos of her own household. The first time she feels free.
META-POETRY META-HAIKU What is a haiku but a collection of words arranged in a way That is confusing to all, but Shakespearean souls. Only written by third graders and failed poets, lacking talent and creativity.
META-LIMERICK Once upon a time, there was a limerick Its presence, try as it might, made people sick. Yet, poets far and wide, Their ink never dried, But limericks just didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t seem to stick.
THE LIGHT OF STARS “It’s finally here.” His mom’s head pokes around the door frame, concealing the present behind her back. Jamie’s eyes grow wide as he grabs the parcel, yanking the velvety satin loose. The wrapping paper is peppered with star stickers, and he takes the time to meticulously place each one on his wall, an inside joke with his nurse. Jamie’s lips twitch upwards as he pulls out a bulky, white piece of clothing resembling a hazmat suit. “Ms. Dorothy will be here soon to make adjustments, but I wanted you to see it first.” His mom’s voice is strained, trying to contain her nerves. She always stood at the edge of his bed or in the corner of the room, never wanting to get too close. Today she stands by the window on tiptoes, ready to take flight. She looks out at her world, a world that doesn’t belong to Jamie. His is confined within these four white walls. He hugs the fabric tighter, it is both a lifeline and a death sentence. The high-pressure shriek of the decontamination chamber and subsequent pop of the door signals the entrance of Dorothy. She seems large to Jamie, holding knowledge that no one else does. She doesn’t tiptoe around him, not like the others who hold him at arm's length like a glass vase. Dorothy makes him feel like a rocket, filled with fire and ready to blast into space. “What have you been up to?” she asks like there’s something new and exciting Jamie could’ve done since he last saw her. His mom frowns as Dorothy ruffles his hair but Jamie ignores her, relishing the human contact. Technically, she is not allowed to do this. Even though she is decontaminated, the germs from her hand could transfer to Jamie and make him sick. Sometimes he feels like his entire life is wasted, all energy and time focused on keeping the germs away and making sure he never gets sick. He holds the suit up, waiting for her to get excited and fill him with enthusiasm. Instead, she takes a sharp inhale of breath, diverting her gaze. She busies herself recording his heart rate, temperature, and other vitals. “How are you feeling?” “Fine.” “Do you have a headache?” “No.” “Nausea?” “No.” “Pain?” “I’m fine.” The monitors beep, green numbers accompanied by flashing red lights and blue lines. They sit in silence for a while, listening to the 30-second interval beeps until his mom has to leave the hospital. She slides through the door as if not opening it too wide will stop the germs from coming in. “When can I go outside?” Jamie looks up at Dorothy, filled with hope. The suit was supposed to allow him to step outside the hospital, blocking the germs from entering his body and attacking his immune system. He would finally be able to see the world.
PAIHIA Sunlight glints off a rippling blue mirror. The skies change; they shift and shimmer. Colour galore- azure blue, rosy pink All merge with each other, like swirling ink. Islands dot the horizon, small and far away, While in my sanctuary, I peacefully lay. The skyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s cold, clear breath caresses my face; My world is tranquil, full of beauty and grace. And while the water laps gently against the shore, I think that, in this world, I could want nothing more.
THE NIGHT'S PULL
LOOKING THROUGH THE GLASS She looks into the mirror and all she sees is that she is not normal. She doesn’t have the perfectly setted hair that curls and waves at the right places. She doesn’t have smooth fair skin; instead she is covered in a mosaic of brown spots, as a result of sun burns, eczema and itches. She is short, despite having legs that are of the same length as her brother’s, who is almost half a foot taller than her. She has tiny hands and wrists, making it almost impossible to wear any of the shimmering jewellery that is in trend, as the rings and bracelets slip out every time, leaving her hands bare and dry. She is slim, but just not enough to be able to comfortably wear a bikini out on the beach. She doesn’t do any sport, doesn’t go to parties and doesn’t even do sleepovers. So she has decided that she is not normal. However, what she doesn’t realise is that she has everything and more that defines her “normality” in quintessential uniqueness. First off, she has a wonderful family, who are there for her every step of the way. They are always there for her to absorb all her pain, and replace that with happiness and love. She has her quiet composure, which may make her an introvert, but also allows her to observe and listen. She has eyes that are like Snow White’s mirror, that spill out her innermost thoughts and feelings, making it impossible for her to lie. She has her brain, which allows her to make rational thoughts so that through every single decision she makes, she is able to come out as a better person. She has kindness, compassion and courage. She has..she has..she has… She has so much. She has so much that there should be no reason why she should feel so small about herself, so insecure. There is no reason for her to constantly point out what she doesn’t have, to keep comparing herself to ‘normal’. There is no ‘normal’. There is only her and her reflection in the mirror, that looks back at her with a smile of content. There is only her interpretation of what she sees in that mirror that proclaims “you are no less than anybody else!”. Nothing else matters. Except for what she thinks about herself.
MY MASKS I acted innocent, joined in on the game. Knowing the consequences, god, why was I dismayed? I tried to fit in, wearing these masks well. I was who you moulded me to be, I showed but did not tell. These masks are thick, suffocating me intensely. What do I do? Since you grip and curtail me. Sweat started to drip, as though I committed a grave crime. I'm innocent, I promise, but they won't oblige. I can't stop shaking, palpitations are getting faster, I shake like an earthquake, though it’s hidden by the courage that I muster. Set me free like the tears, I shouldn't be confined to this state. Perfection, hope and normalcy are some things that I crave. These masks I show, you should take credit for it significantly. It's one thing you shamelessly crafted , doing so precisely. Some call me fake, though it’s not what I desire, My emotions are genuine, though you present me like a liar. So leave me to my devices I’ll try to sort myself out. Though I crave for validation, the desire you implanted engulfs me up. These masks are getting thicker, I can’t stand for much longer time passes quickly ‘till I will succumb.
HELP Hi Hi It’s me I want to introduce myself I’m only Please I want to I would just like to No, that’s not what I meant Oh! Oh! Oh! Sir? Please Sir? I’m sorry I I’m so sorry Sorry. Please! Please oh please! There must be something I can do to help … I am begging you do not leave me here right now I cannot I promise you I cannot stay … Take me take me with you right now. Sir, Sir! Don’t leave me be. You can’t! You know what’s going to happen to me, what’s going to happen to every single fibre of my being, you must take me with you right now. Please. Oh shut up. Think about this. I unfocused my eyes, staring into the distance. Out the window, everything seemed so saturated; so vivid in the most haunting manner. The reds looked redder, the greens greener, however the blues still looked blue. As blue as ever. And yet, it all looked so very dull to me. The sky-- a meek grey-- rained upon us, diluted us. My whole body irritates me. It isn’t childish nonsense, as everyone else likes to think, it is indescribable. I radiate with nothingness, the most sickening feeling of utmost uselessness; a feeling that entails me feeling purposeless, adrift in life’s limbo -- with absolutely no passage, no future. And I don’t want to sound so darn overdramatic-- I am not fake, I assure you. And yet I have no possible, non-conceited way of expressing myself. And it all builds up, you know, the tension builds up all inside of me; it gets pent up within me. And I promise you, please please believe me. I don’t know what else I would do. I guess I’m stuck now. Stuck inbetwixt dreariness and feeling sorry for myself. Unfortunately, there is absolutely nothing I can foreseeably do to fix this, to fix me. Love.
LOVE (IN RESPONSE TO HATRED BY WISŁAWA SZYMBORSKA)
I’ve been playing instruments for as long as I can remember, and despite not all of them sticking, I grew to love music in every form. Currently I’m a singer/drummer who just loves exploring all kinds of music. I’ve listened to most genres of music and I am always willing to listen to more because there's so much great stuff out there that I can incorporate into my work. However, I mainly indulge in alternative rock, music for movies and television (especially anime) and some heavy metal. I’ve always been inspired to make music from seeing the effects it has on people. It can be the thing to cheer you up or even make your day and it can set the perfect mood for any event. For this year’s showcase I’d like to feature one of my favourite songs by My Chemical Romance, called ‘Cancer’ which showcases sorrow and helplessness.
When I listened to Bachâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s solo cello suite for the first time, I was astounded by how simple and â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;openâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; it felt; I was immediately transported to the peaceful ocean where the waves splashed onto the shore. After I started playing the cello and studying music, I was able to fully appreciate the beauty and complexity of his pieces. I love listening to all genres of music, especially pieces from the romantic era such as Elgar's cello concerto. I look up to other hard working cellists, such as Yo-Yo Ma, Sheku Kanneh-Mason and Jacqueline Du Pre. I am grateful to be able to share this lovely masterpiece with you and I hope my love for the cello continues to flourish.
I was first introduced to the piano when I was 4, and ever since, I have been intrigued by it and played the piano as a way to express my emotions. Over the past 11 years, I have played a variety of music ranging from baroque music to modern music. However, I mainly enjoy playing romantic era pieces or anime pieces. Some of my favourite anime pieces are ‘Homura’ and ‘Kamado tanjiro no uta’. For this years showcase, I have chosen the piece ‘Homura’ by Lisa. This piece was released pretty recently and I have really taking a liking to it, which is why in this year’s showcase, I will be playing it.
I can even find myself vibing to the sound of construction work; thinking to myself, how that drill could make a punchy kick. Almost everything I walk by could be an instrument. This is where my interest lays; sampling and graining sounds, from making weird synths to complete noise is my fascination; the art of making everything you hear, music is the best. This is also the reason why I find myself listening to the most random tracks sometimes, like waves crashing but syncopated to a tempo acting like a beat. Hence Inspiring me to make music that embodies sampling and creating sounds that have yet to be heard; like my submission this year where I tried to make a Lo-Fi beat with the ambience of the ocean. Originally as a keyboardist, pianist, then a synth lover; I can tell that almost anything can become music.
Ever since I was a child, music has been one of the ways for me to express myself. Whether that had been through playing the piano, singing or simply listening to music, it has been a way for me to present my feelings and thoughts in a different way. Through the 5 years of learning musical pieces, many of them have been exam material. However, I have grown to enjoy singing to musical theatre essentially because of its incredible range. With this yearâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s showcase, I hope to share my love for music with everyone.
I have been playing drums since before I can remember, and am currently working on my drum diploma. I also produce and compose music. Other instruments Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve played include: Piano, Guitar, Bass, Euphonium, Ukelele and Percussion. yeah.
All I have known or been told is that I started singing from around the time I learned to speak and never stopped for breath since – for better or for worse. Among those to blame are my mother, who sang me pop classics instead of lullabies; my father, who thought a piano was a suitable third birthday gift; and my grandmother, who endeavoured to detach me from the television by sitting me in front of a radio. Then there was my criminally holistic education, embarking me on years of choir, musical theatre and garage band abominations – that is until I learned to use Sibelius (but not Logic Pro). For this year’s showcase, however, I would like to reconnect with my Western Art Music roots in its most unhinged and cantabile form – 6-8 minutes of Beethoven’s Sonata No. 8 because Sympathy for the Devil and Bohemian Rhapsody simply aren’t long enough.
DEPTHS OF TARTARUS
FILM AND THEATRE PRESENT...
DEPTHS OF TARTARUS
4 girls wake up in a broken elevator. Trapped and confused - in more ways than expected - a quarrel breaks out between them. As hostility grows, harrowing truths of the 'girlsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; identities and histories begin to unfold, leaving us to question: will the cycle of tyranny ever be broken?
produced by Zahara Slovenski, Geeta Sitaraman & Anoushka Ghosh Directed by Vivi Li, Srishti Saha & Sadie Moore
RRING... A T S
Lucy Wu as Napoleon Bonaparte
Charlotte Kneepkens as Joseph Stalin
Sukriti Prasad as Benito Mussolini
Hana Khan as Genghis Khan
written by Vivi Li lighting by Amalia Carney Cinematography by Isobel Carter edited by Benjamin Xu & Victor Tian