Places | Issue 02 by Salient

Salient Issue 2

Places

Vol. 79

Contents Features

Between East and West

Trumbling Yearns South

Turns out Salient is a disgusting travesty

Weir House too turnt

Thursdays in Black

Miniscule raise to the minimum wage

Eye on Exec

$15 billion debt day nauseatingly successful

News

Regular Content

5 Editorial 12 Māori Matters

33 W.W.T.A.W.W.T.A.S.

13 Gee-mail

34 Miss Demeanour 35 Food 37 Visual Arts

VUWSA Exec

38 Music

Notices

Single Sad Postgrad

42 Games

Breathing Space

43 TV

Postgraduate Connection

44 Books

The Queer Agenda

45 Theatre

33 “Sports!”

46 Puzzles

One Ocean

40 Film

Editors: Emma Hurley Jayne Mulligan

Editors’ Letter Jayne is from the Hutt Valley. She was born there, and her parents were born in Wellington. She lived there until she could afford to move out, which was the last year of her degree, when she was working two jobs. That was in 20(she doesn’t want you to know because she feels old). Emma is from Auckland. I think it’s Pukekohe, or maybe it’s Papatoetoe. It’s the southernmost part of South Auckland. She says it’s got a few gangs, and farmers, and sometimes gangs of farmers. It’s rural and really popular for it’s onions and potatoes. And it has a BIG racetrack (she said big right into my face). Jayne lives with her friend and her boyfriend. She wants a cat called Chut-eney (very strange). Emma has been between homes, like a dove with nowhere to return to. But she has a flat now, she has signed a lease and everything… except moved in. Jayne lived in one house her whole life. She moved in the day after she was born, her Mum was giving birth to her while her Dad was moving their things to their new home. It has a big garden that she liked to play in, and her parents still live there now so it must be nice. Emma was born in a house in Epsom (like the salt), not a hospital, born straight into her new home. There was an ambulance (she thinks, but definitely a doctor with a flashlight, but she doesn’t remember because

she was 0). Her parents broke up so she spent her time between two homes, in Pukekohe and in Mt Roskill. Wellington is now the place both Emma and Jayne call home. It’s also becoming apparent that their home is the Salient office. Emma and Jayne have done a little bit of travelling, Emma has been to Cambodia, and Vietnam, and Jayne has been there too, but at a different time than Emma. And she also went to Thailand. We were so excited to see that Molly and Ollie (ex-Salient editors) had returned from their East to West adventure. And we really appreciate that they shared the photos and stories with us, so that we could share it with you all. They saw places we may never see, and you may not either. Their photos are incredible, and capture the essence of each place. Rob Yates takes you readers on a journey through the South Island, in a creative non-fiction piece inspired by his travels there. Ella has done some beautiful illustrations to accompany this piece. We hope you enjoy reading the places issue. xoxo Emma & Jayne

Going Up

Leonardo DiCaprio •

Using ciabatta as a phrase to give thanks [chia-barter].

•

Dental hygienist visits.

•

Cheese.

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The earth’s temperature.

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Gingham.

Going Down

Who are you? I won an Oscar. What’s the best part of your job? I won an Oscar. What’s the worst part of your job? Waiting 23 years for an Oscar.

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Saying “HB” on Facebook.

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Haters.

So what do you actually do? Date models, look pretty, make films, smile for the UN.

•

Leaving one leaf on the toilet roll.

Kanye West or Kendrick Lamar Kate Winslet.

•

Mount Street.

•

Sweaty bus rides.

Any parting words of wisdom? If a hoe say she won’t let go, she lyin’. Peace.

Humdingers A Michigan family has recently welcomed its second child born on a leap year. The second child was also born within half an hour of the time her older sibling was four years prior. Crazy. Just crazy.

Los Angeles’ tallest building has a new tourist attraction set to open in the coming months—a glass slide that sits a cool 1000 feet above downtown LA Daredevils will be required to purchase a $25.00 USD ticket to the rooftop complex, with the slide costing an extra $8.00 on top of that.

In a story fit for a Nicholas Sparks novel, the body of a German adventurer has been found seven years after he went missing, mummified, and beside a love note to his dearly beloved who died of cancer in 2010. It is believed he died of natural causes.

07.03.16

news@salient.org.nz

News

Weir House too turnt

Victoria University Chancellor Sir Neville Jordan expressed disgust with a recent satirical piece published in Salient. In an outburst at a recent Victoria University Council meeting, Sir Neville said it was not made clear that the piece was a “spoof” and that it was “disgusting” and a “travesty”. In response to Sir Neville’s public comments, and after consultation with VUWSA, the editors sent a private apology letter to Sir Neville. Sir Neville did not accept their initial apology. The editors were told that Sir Neville required the apology to be amended to specify that the editors “unreservedly” apologize. Further, Sir Neville required that the amended apology letter be published in print and online. Sir Neville was nonnegotiable on the apology letter being published in print. It was not made clear what the consequences would be if these requirements were not met. Sir Neville also required all online content of the article to be removed. In response to Sir Neville’s complaints the editors published an apology in print, including the required phrase ‘unreservedly’. They deleted the article from the website but it remains online in a PDF version of the magazine. The satire piece consisted of a series of questions and answers. Questions included ‘What’s the best part of your job?’, ‘What’s the worst part of your job?’ and ‘So what do you actually do?’, to which the responses were “shaking sweaty hands at graduation ceremonies”. The final question asked for “any parting words of wisdom” and the response quoted a “favourite Kardashian/ Jenner child” (Kylie): “stop sippin’ on that haterade” and “don’t listen to what people say because they don’t know the truth”. VUWSA placed some pressure on the editors as this article went to print to not make this information public. The Salient Charter, Clause 1, states: “The Editor(s) shall determine the form and content of Salient with complete freedom from political interference”. Salient is funded by Victoria University of Wellington students through the student services levy, and was established as “an organ of student opinion” in 1938.

On Tuesday, February 23, first-year students at Weir House found themselves on the receiving end of a strongly worded email from the university Vice-Chancellor, Professor Grant Guilford. The email addressed a series of complaints from neighbours regarding behaviour at Kelburn park on the previous Sunday and Monday. The listed offences ranged from drinking and littering, right through to noise and “associated behaviour.” Guilford wrote that “allegations received by the university about behaviour over the last couple of nights appear to breach that Statute [Victoria University’s Student Conduct Statute].” Under the Statute, misconduct is defined as “behaviour that is otherwise detrimental to the safety of staff and students of the university, the effective functioning of the university or to the reputation of the university.” This hardline approach has raised concern among some students and staff, including VUWSA president Jonathan Gee. Gee told Salient, “in everything else the university does students are treated like adults.” “Suggesting a maximum penalty of exclusion is a disproportionate threat to students who have only just started uni. Students aren’t being treated like adults.” In a statement on March 3rd, Guilford said that the university has a student code of conduct and “reminding students about their responsibilities to themselves, the university, and the community is entirely appropriate.” Guilford is concerned that the behaviour of a small number of students over the last few year “has begun to seriously undermine the reputation of Victoria students, the vast majority of whom contribute very positively to Wellington.” Neighbours of Victoria have become increasingly upset, Guilford said, by “intoxicated students keeping them awake at night and damaging their properties and the neighbourhood” and that it was too much to ask for them to be “cleaning up after drunk students and repairing fences and gardens.” 05

Kate Robertson

Emma Hurley & Jayne Mulligan

Turns out Salient is a disgusting travesty

07.03.16

Emma Hurley

Thursdays in Black

Led by VUWSA, VUWSA Women’s Group, and Youth for UN Women, the Let Me Go Home protest showed O’Neill “how empowering students can be for each other and how influential students are in terms of challenging and changing rape culture and the cultural landscape of their institutions.” O’Neill commented that as a cis pakeha woman she “had more access to student support services and resources that were catered to my needs.” The campaign seeks to ensure that universities are providing adequate support to all students. RAs at Katharine Jermyn Hall (KJ) have shown their support for the campaign. KJ posted a photo on their facebook page with their RAs dressed in black, with a statement that, “Katharine Jermyn Hall is proud to be fully behind Thursdays in Black, Aotearoa, supporting the movement towards a world without rape and violence.” O’Neill commented, “far too many of my peers have been victimised. Either from childhood abuse or through their time at tertiary, and as a student I knew enough was enough and that as a student and tertiary community, we need to act.” Students can be part of the campaign by wearing black on Thursdays, following the movement on facebook and Instagram, telling their friends, and supporting survivors by believing them, by listening, and by offering them resources.

Thursdays in Black, a student-led campaign for safe campuses, has launched across New Zealand tertiary campuses. Co-ordinated by Tertiary Women New Zealand, a branch of NZUSA, the campaign seeks transformation of the policies, practices, and culture that perpetuates and normalizes sexual violence. To show their support for the campaign, staff and students are encouraged to wear black on Thursdays. Black was chosen as the campaign colour to symbolize the harm that is caused by sexual violence, and it represents grieving and mourning. This campaign was active in the 90s, and the revival came when a former National Women’s Rights Office (NWRO), contacted Izzy O’Neill, the current NWRO for Tertiary Women New Zealand. O’Neill, who is also the Thursdays in Black campaign organizer, was spurred to action by her experiences as a student, including Massey University’s response to a sexual assault near campus while she was studying there. Massey students were sent a letter “advising them to wear running shoes and to carry a rape whistle, among other advice that was problematic.” A response that O’Neill found appalling. Further inspiration came from a protest march that took place at Victoria University in 2014. Called Let Me Go Home, the march protested the inadequate response to a series of sexual assaults at a pathway on Kelburn campus.

07.03.16

Harassment is not fucking cool

Charlie Prout

Miniscule raise to the minimum wage The government has announced a $0.50 increase to the minimum wage commencing April 1. It will bring the rate up to $15.25 per hour. The starting-out and training minimum wage is also rising by $0.40 from $11.80 to $12.20 an hour. This will keep them at 80% of the adult minimum wage. Workplace Relations and Safety Minister, Michael Woodhouse, stated that an increased wage of $15.25 per hour would directly benefit approximately 152,700 workers, and increase wages throughout the economy by $75 million per year. “With annual inflation currently at 0.1%, an increase to the minimum wage by 3.4% gives our lowest paid workers more money in their pocket, without imposing undue pressure on businesses or hindering job growth.” The government has received flak from the opposition who see the increase as not enough. Labour leader Andrew Little said the increase of $18.00 per week in take home pay would just cover rate rises. He went on to say, “Labour first called for a $15.00 minimum hourly rate seven years ago—today we are just $0.25 above that.” “At the same time we have corporate salaries in the millions of dollars and we are lagging behind Australia’s minimum wage which is more than $3.50 per hour above the New Zealand rate.” The government’s announcement coincided with the living wage being raised to $19.80 per hour—an increase of $0.55 from 2015. The living wage is formulated by Charles Waldegrave of the Family Centre’s social policy research unit, with the help of Peter King. The living wage lobby group state that living wage is the rate needed to maintain a decent standard of life. Lyndy McIntyre from the living wage campaign in Wellington has hit back against the new minimum wage. She told Salient about the importance of the increase in the living wage, especially for students. Stating that a “$15.00 minimum wage is a poverty wage and does not address the range of costs New Zealand workers and students need.” She went on to stress the impact the living wage would have on students. “It would mean fewer students being forced to work long hours on the minimum wage because they cannot afford anything else.” Businesses paying a living wage will have until July 1 to implement the rate.

Kate Robertson

At least ten people who live and work near the University of Otago have signed a petition to the Vice-Chancellor calling for action to be taken on harassment. The letter read, “this is not another letter about couch burning or broken glass… I’m afraid it’s much more serious.” It proceeded to list abuse which had been experienced near the university, which included “racist speech/slurs, street harassment towards women, and trans and homophobia.” One of the letter’s co-signers, PhD student Emma Tumilty, told the Otago Daily Times last week, “what upsets us most was this aggression towards others, [towards] women, or people who are slightly different— hurling bottles and abuse at people as they pass.” One ex-student told media a van load of men shouted at her, “if your dog wasn’t in your car I’d rape you,” at 5:30pm on a weeknight. Aside from their own personal safety, a main concern of those speaking out is the way such behaviour normalises rape culture when not properly addressed. Victoria University has a webpage dedicated to sexual violence awareness which states that sexual harassment of any kind undermines safety and respect, and is a breach of the university’s Student Conduct Statute. Students experiencing harassment can contact Student Interest and Disputes Resolution Advisor Yvonne Oldfield to seek advice and support on (04) 463 5023.

Karori gets down with the cool kids

Olly Clifton

12,000 cubic-metres of dirt from a Victoria University construction site have been used to build a 400 metre BMX track in Karori. The soil, originally destined for the tip, was used to construct the foundations of the track. Built in Ian Galloway Park, the track opened on February 28 and is the largest in the lower North Island. It will be free for the public to use when not occupied by the Capital BMX club for racing and training. The track was largely self funded by Capital BMX, with the WCC putting in approximately thirty percent ($130,000) of the total costs. Funds were also donated by the The Lion Foundation and New Zealand racing board. Internationally renowned track designer Brett Barnes planned the design which was built by world class track builders Empire of Dirt. The track is an International Cycling Union level arena, and is expected to attract high level competition.

Salient Quiz

Eye on Exec

Joshua James

1. The scientific term nocturnal emission is more commonly known as what?

Buckle up! “Sick collabs” with NZUSA on their way

2. Shrek was created by which animation studio? 3. What year did Switzerland give women the right to vote?

5. When did Spain’s most recent dictatorship end? 6. True or False: Eating a deep fried moro bar can increase the likeliness of men having a stroke. 7. The Old Bank Arcade on Lambton Quay was built on what type of historical site? 8. Last week Donald Trump, Pope Francis, and Angela Merkel were nominated for what prestigious award? 9. Last week, the official living wage was raised to which dollar amount? 10. Last week, the minimum wage was raised to which dollar amount?

1) Wet Dream 2) DreamWorks 3) 1971 4) Her feminist writing and radical feminist stance 5) 1975 6) True, eating the 1200 calorie bar can increase blood supply to the brain of men and within 90 minutes they may suffer a stroke 7) A shipwreck, if you go to the basement of the Old Bank Arcade you can see some of the original ship! 8) The Nobel Peace Prize 9) $19.80 10) $15.25 Correction: Last week I incorrectly referred to John Key as our head of state, when the Governor-General is, constitutionally, the head of state. Thanks to Rick Zwaan, eagle-eyed former president of VUWSA for pointing that out.

Kate Robertson

The most recent VUWSA executive meeting took place on Friday, Feb 26 at 3.00pm. Yep, 3.00pm on a motherfucking Friday. But it wasn’t all bad. Not only were the exec in surprisingly high spirits after five days of O-Week madness, but there were TWO special guests. VUWSA communications and marketing manager Christina Gillmore, and NZUSA President Linsey Higgins. X-Tina was up first with her plan to get the exec blogging. Apparently blogs are still cool and I have been convinced by her enthusiasm. The initiative has been framed as an effective way for the exec to “engage” with students by keeping them up-to-date with their campaigns and portfolio-relevant things. Jacinta raised some concerns around the exec’s workload, but these were quickly put to rest when it was decided that “if you’re too busy it’s fine,” which I pretty much translated to mean “if you ever see an exec blog post it will be a bloody miracle because it seems the whole damn lot of ‘em are overworked.” Following X-Tina’s departure it was Linsey’s turn to talk, and boy oh boy did she ever. Linsey covered things from $15 billion debt day, to Weir House, to local body elections and everything in between. Literally. Everything. One of Linsey’s more interesting talking points she told the gang was about the research NZUSA were doing around hidden costs at halls of residence. If you never lived in a hall or aren’t following me, I’ll lay down a scenario for you: you moved out of your tiny KJ room more than a month ago. Your room was spotless and your RA gave it a big ol’ tick. Surely your bond must be coming soon? Wait what? You bond has had $50.00 taken out for “crockery?” WTF. $50.00 each for a bunch of cutlery that would’ve cost about three cents a piece? Cue NZUSA, swooping in to find out where all of that money is going and in turn, stop it from happening in the future. No, not all halls are so sneaky, but I could rattle off at least three I know who are, so kudos, NZUSA. The only other thing I took from Linsey’s presentation was the repeated use if the phrase “sick collabs.” Lots of “sick collabs” happening in 2016. Keep your eyes peeled. If you’re still reading this and wondering when there will be some juicy O-Week goss, there was none. The one part of the meeting I was looking forward to—Nathaniel’s O-Week update—was thieved from me when a motion was passed to skip it because there wasn’t enough time. Ah well. Better luck next time I guess.

4. What is Gloria Steinem famous for?

07.03.16

$15 billion debt day nauseatingly successful

Tertiary spokesperson Chris Hipkins and associate tertiary spokesperson David Cunliffe were also spotted loitering in the background. NZ First’s Tracy Martin was the debt day dark horse, passionately telling students they shouldn’t be expected to borrow money to live. This statement was made all the more sobering when Martin dropped the bombshell that the University of Auckland had experienced a 93% increase in students seeking support. Last to take the stage was Green Party co-leader James Shaw. Getting down with the kids, Shaw likened the last time the accommodation supplement was raised in 2004 to “a time before YouTube existed.” Very hip, much cool. Shaw also informed those in attendance that in 2004, the average room in a Wellington student flat would cost you $90/wk. Today the average is rent $140/wk, with many students paying much more. VUWSA president Jonathan Gee closed out the 20 minute proceeding by commending those in attendance for “starting a conversation” about student debt. Gee then shared his student loan balance ($35,000) and told audiences it made him “scared.” No representatives from the National, ACT, or Māori parties were present.

Kate Robertson

On Wednesday March 2 at noon, student politicians, real politicians, and totally broke students assembled in the Hub to talk about debt. Specifically, the $15 billion of student loan debt floating around the solar system. $15 billion debt day was a nationwide NZUSA campaign that set out to shine a light on growing student debt and the pressure it’s putting on students and graduates. NZUSA President Linsey Higgins said the day was a chance to highlight the “many faces of student debt.” Sickening facts were thrown around such as 75% of students thinking their debt will affect their chances of home ownership, and one third of students thinking they won’t be able to have children due to the burden of their debt. Shit mate. Labour had the strongest cohort in attendance, with party leader Andrew Little and Manukau East MP Jenny Salesa both having a turn with the mic. Little took the opportunity to plug his tertiary education policy, which would provide three years of free post-school study for whoever wanted it. The reality check came when Little tacked on the end that they won’t be able to introduce the policy until they’re elected into parliament in 2016. Tax cuts are not valuing education Little said. The crowd cheered.

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Maori Matters

One Ocean

Rakaitemania Parata Gardiner & Raimona Tapiata

Laura Toailoa

Despite having lived in several places in my lifetime, I only consider one area my true home. I was extremely fortunate to be raised in my tribal homelands of Ngati Porou, at the centre of a dynamic web of thinkers, orators, debaters, and dreamers. All of them have shaped my life story through their unrelenting commitment to excellence and service, and their unfailing passion for the success of Māori, aswell as Aotearoa New Zealanders as a collective. Because of this upbringing, combined with an innately Māori connection to the land and the ties of whakapapa that link us to our various marae, I relate very strongly to Ruatoria, my hometown; and indeed, to the very edges of our iwi borders. Home, for me, is the majestic Mount Hikurangi and the mighty Waiapu river. A sight that never ceases to amaze and ground me. It’s in doing the eight-hour car ride from Wellington and rolling into the Hiruharama Straight at nighttime with the windows down to the soundtrack of kapa haka hour on radio Ngati Porou. It’s in being at the pa for tangihanga, hura kohatu, birthdays, and AGMs; tea towel in hand, surrounded by whanau and relations revelling in the simple pleasure of being together and being at home. It’s in going to puna reo at my kura to be amongst my nieces and nephews learning their Ngati Poroutanga, in the same way as I did, instilled through purakau, karakia, waiata, moteatea, and haka. All that I am and all that I do relate back to the place and the people that constitute my idea of home. Regardless of where I am, who I’m with, or what I’m doing, the teachings of my tipuna and my whanau—the lessons reaped from the whenua we are from—act as the guiding principles in my life. Ko au, ko taku papa kainga, ko taku papa kainga ko au. Ahakoa taku tipi haere i te motu, ko nga akoranga o oku tipuna, o taku whanau, o taku whenua te whetu urungi e arahi nei i taku ao.

New and unfamiliar places can be filled with thrilling possibilities or be downright scary. They can even be a combination of both. You can walk in and embrace the chaos of confusion and roll with the new scene, or be debilitated by your lack of social knowledge of what happens in those particular spaces. The first time I went to an art gallery, I felt so out of place. I didn’t know what constituted as “good art” and I didn’t know gallery etiquette: how loud I could speak, if I could speak at all, how long I should stand in front of an artwork, if selfies lowered the prestige of the establishment, or if anyone was staring at me because I’m a lower class young Samoan girl in a place I knew nothing about. But the art gallery is free, and a public space, and I had every right to be in there. By the same token, you have the right to be here at university. This is your place. I had a tutorial once in which we did casual little poll of who felt comfortable coming to university and who didn’t. Unsurprisingly, all the brown students felt alienated and that they didn’t have a right to be here, and the palagi students felt comfortable (I understand this is not an extensive survey and has many holes, but just work with me here). As unnatural as it might feel, you have the right to be here as much as every other student. Most of us are burrowing into decades of debt to be here and we should feel that this place is all of ours. Spaces like the Pasifika Haos (15 Mount St.), Wan Solwara (Level Two, Kelburn library), Te Pūtahi Atawhai (Level Two, Student Union building), Te Rōpū Āwhina (Room 148, Level One, Cotton building), are here to help you feel more at home, to encourage connection with students and staff, and add a sense of belonging in a place you might not feel at home in. Come to our spaces, say hi, bring a friend, make a friend, have a laugh, and struggle through study with us. University is your place, and these little pockets of specially tailored space are here to make sure you know that.

Upcoming event There is a Ngai Tauira SGM at 5.30pm on Thursday, March 17 at Te Herenga Waka marae.

Gee-mail

VUWSA Exec

Jonathan Gee VUWSA President

Rory Lenihan-Ikin Welfare Vice President

There is no single place that has a bigger impact on our quality of life than our home. Sanctuary, safety, warmth, security, and privacy are a few of the things that jump to mind when I consider the basic necessities of every home. Despite this, we know too well that most of these are luxuries when it comes to Wellington flats. Last week’s drop in temperature would have served as a reminder to students about the upcoming winter. It is only a couple of months until the unstoppable black mould spores and bitterly cold southerly drafts begin to take hold of flats once again. But why is this the case? Why, when paying above average rents, do we have to settle for houses that are making us sick? The problem is not isolated to students. Our crappy flats are just one part of a national epidemic. The result of a critical lack of decent affordable housing throughout the country, and our health and economy are suffering because of it. This lack of supply largely comes back to the fact that the government builds far fewer houses than they used to. With low supply and few houses being built, proper regulation of rental quality is the only thing that will make a difference to our flats. The government has finally responded to calls for regulation. The insulation standards that have been proposed will do little on their own, and unless some ventilation and heating requirements are also included, the cold and mould in our flats is here to stay. Enforcing requirements then becomes key. Currently only 10% of Tenancy Tribunal cases are taken by tenants; we know this is not because houses are free of problems. VUWSA has been pushing for changes through select committee and the Ministry of Social Development, but local government also has the power to implement rental standards. The city council must do the right thing and introduce a rental warrant of fitness in Wellington.

Last Wednesday we commemorated $15 billion debt day. That’s how much students now owe as a result of tuition fees and living costs. It’s a very scary figure, which has many consequences now and in the future. My student loan is around $35,000, and I know that when I get a grad job, student loan repayments will mean that my income will be modest. I’ll take longer to do adult things like buying a house or starting a family. I feel really weird talking about this, as debt is not often a topic of conversation. We don’t talk enough about debt and how it affects us. And it’s not just debt that we don’t talk enough about. As a student population, I think we accept too much. We accept that we’ll leave uni with piles of debt. We accept that we all get blamed for the intoxicated antics of a few. We accept that we are a transient population in our own city. As students, we need to realise the power we have when we stand together. I had a real sense of that collective power when a tsunami of students (all 22,000 of you!) descended on Wellington last week. The campus was buzzing (there were lines EVERYWHERE). Town was buzzing (yes, that was you in a toga on ONE News last Saturday). Wellington was buzzing. The fact that we can bring a city to life in the space of a week reflects how much of an impact we have on Wellington. We might be poor, we might be cold (summer where you at?), and we might be stressed, but things can be better if we stand together and speak out. At VUWSA, we’ll be capitalising on the collective power of students in the upcoming local body elections. I want to tell council candidates that students matter in Wellington, and they need to listen when we say our flats are shit and we need cheaper public transport. Okay, rant over. Until next time!

Your stories can help us convince power holders that the system is broken. If you have a horror flatting experience that you would like the government or council to hear, send it to: welfare@vuwsa.org.nz. 13

Notices Come learn Aikido!

Commerce and Law Careers Expo

Aikido is a modern martial art that emphasizes the peaceful resolution of conflict. In Aikido we seek to blend with an incoming attack rather than trying to oppose it with strength or brute force. As a result, Aikido is suitable for people of all shapes and sizes. New students are welcome to come along to any class and give it a go! We train in the Rec Centre dance room on Tuesday at 11.00am and on Saturday at 11:30am. First two classes are free! For more information, please email mtierney@orcon.net.nz or go to www.aki.nz.

Tuesday, March 15, 11.00am–2.00pm Rutherford House, Ground & Mezzanine Foyers Wonderful opportunity to explore future work opportunities in a relaxed and informal setting. Don’t miss out! For some employers, the is the only time they recruit and the only event where you get to meet them in person! • 46 stalls jam packed with career opportunities! • Free professional memberships! • Free careers handouts and advice! • Plus countless summer internships and graduate opportunities on offer!

Victoria Abroad—exchange information sessions begin! Why not study overseas as part of your degree?! Study in English, earn Vic credit, get Studylink & grants, and explore the world! Information Sessions: Every Wednesday at 12:50pm, Level Two, Easterfield Building. Drop-in hours: Mon–Wed, 1.00pm– 3.00pm; Thurs and Fri, 10.30am– 12.00pm Website: http://victoria.ac.nz/ exchange.

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BETWEEN EAST AND WEST

Photos and words by Molly McCarthy and Ollie Neas.

Bored in Kelburn library before an exam in 2014, former Salient co-editors Molly McCarthy and Ollie Neas scanned a map for places they knew nothing about. They opened their web browser and typed in “Turkmenistan.” One year later, they found themselves in unusual territory, responding to friends’ queries that were less “Can you send me a postcard?” and more “Does that country even exist?” West of China, they had crossed into Central Asia, a part of the world which falls through the cracks of east and west, where sky-shattering mountain ranges rise from punishing deserts, and where tough-man dictators cling on to power in the face of a deep, mystic Islam. Although the hub of global trade for centuries as the core of the Silk Road, Molly and Ollie found a region hidden on the fringes of global dramas, one still recovering from the collapse of the Soviet Union 25 years ago. And beyond the ‘Stans they found Iran, a country of many faces, now opening up to the world after decades in isolation. These are the photos from that journey, a long way from Kelburn library.

ARAL SEA, UZBEKISTAN The town of Moynaq is in the middle of nowhere, but it hasn’t always been. Until the 1960s it was a bustling port town at the edge of the Aral Sea, the vast landlocked body of water that straddles Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan. But then, in a bid to make Uzbekistan the cotton hub of the Soviet Union, the Aral’s two main tributaries were diverted to the arid plains in the country’s centre. It was a success: the plains were irrigated and the cotton yield became bountiful. But as the Uzbek apparatchiks declared victory, in Moynaq, the tide was turning. The waters began filling with pesticides, the catch dwindled, and one of humanity’s greatest environmental disasters began. 50 years on, the Aral Sea is all but gone, receded beyond the horizon, and Moynaq is a near ghost town. All that remained when we visited were the rusting hulks of fishing boats, scattered like tombstones across the parched seabed. 17

CARPETS, UZBEKISTAN The weirdness of Uzbekistan started as soon as we crossed the border, when we handed $60.00 to a man who gave us a plastic bag full of cash. We hadn’t been ripped off. In Uzbekistan inflation is so bad that this is how banking is done. Then we started to hear the stories. Of labourers ordered to glue harvested cotton back onto cotton trees to impress passing politicians. Of doctors prescribing random medicines just to get them out of their cabinets before their expiry. Of border guards obsessed by pornography. Everywhere we had a sense that things were only just hanging together—everywhere except the country’s many bazaars. There, despite the pervasive postcommunist absurdity, Uzbek society flourishes and salesman boast personalities as large as the carpets they tout.

DESERT, IRAN

PERSEPOLIS, IRAN

A figure stands on the sand-dunes in the heart of the Dasht-e Kavir, one of the two huge deserts that dominate Iran. During the days of the Silk Road, caravans of camels bearing silks and gemstones traveled through these shifting sands, but today the only traffic is the occasional salt truck.

The ruined city of Persepolis was once the seat of power for an empire that was the largest the world had ever seen, stretching from the Balkans through to India. Western history remembers the Achaemenids for freeing the Jews of Babylon and as sworn enemy of Athens and Sparta, but to Iranians, names like Cyrus, Darius, and Xerxes are not just footnotes of history, but fathers of a civilisation that lives on in Iran today. 20

MOSQUE DETAIL IRAN & ESFAHAN, IRAN When locals describe Esfahan, Iran’s third biggest city, they often resort to a proverb: “Esfahan nesf-e jahan”— Esfahan is half the world. Stumbling upon the Naqsh-e Jahan, the world’s second largest square after China’s Tiananmen, after weaving our way through a labyrinthine bazaar, we found it hard to disagree with the locals. In the evening, with the sun setting on the Sheikh Lotfollah Mosque (pictured here) it felt as if half the world’s population was right there with us. Fountains leapt, families picniced and young Iranians approached, asking us to pose for Instagram—the only social media that Iran doesn’t ban.

Utensil Lover lpwest.tumblr.com

Trumbling Yearns South Rob Yates

After nine months of living in Wellington, and one month before he returning home to England, Robert Yates went southward. Into the depths of the South Island he ventures, the kind of south only few get to know, full of snow and mountain peaks and harsh winds, taking with him a journal and determination. Part autobiography, part fiction; this is the tale of Robert Yates’ southern excursion.

[ trumbling ] verb, noun, adj. —a state of trembling and bumbling, characterised also by a sorry need to move for fear of stopping [ grandsire ] noun. —one who feels excessively old

Within climbing distance of Mount Luxmore’s peak, harassed by cold fog, dense as bad cream, Trumbling Grandsire pondered the difference between distance and destination as the DOC ranger told him he was ill equipped for the weather and that they would not make it to the top. Back in her cabin, with tea that tasted of the stove, she told him of boys who had been frozen eye deep in wintery drifts after shunning the advice of those more experienced than themselves, and her tone was one of mournful pride, as if the Kepler trail were a barely tamed fighting dog she’d raised from a pup, a thing that was destined to maim if poorly handled. “How long does it take for a man to become a mountain goat?” thought Grandsire, growing bored with the woman’s blustery tales of danger. “How many blisters and cans of uncooked beans?” He had met a Frenchman with no knowledge of mountaineering, no shovels, no crampons, no GPS beacon for letting people know where you’d been buried, and he had dodged the censure of the rangers and tramped the trail with five feet of trigger happy snow on the upper reaches; he said it had been the scariest journey of his life and probably the greatest. “Why do people applaud Shackleton but frown on milk-faced yuppies trekking out of their comfort zones? All adventurers are mad and who is to say one adventure is madder than another? One man’s South Pole is another man’s breakfast.” “Pardon?” “I was thinking badly out loud,” replied Trumbling, and went back to musing over his numerous failures of destination: the peaks he had not reached, the valleys where no paths led. Ben Lomond was just a practice run, to blow the cobwebs from his veins, a very tall spike amidst many tall spikes around Queenstown. He felt intrepid because he’d found a stick sturdy enough to take his walking weight, then slipped a mile from the summit, broke a strap on his rucksack, lost his hat in a trench, and realised he had forgotten his sun lotion. The afternoon up there was bright enough to turn grown men into dried fruit. He tripped back to the city centre, took a bitty, limping stroll down the escapade, watched people gunning around the lake on strange motorboats shaped like sharks, knowing he needed to relax and enjoy himself despite the botched ascent, knowing that enjoyment was what travelling should be about, but remembering all the other times he had failed to do so, jittery and scattered throughout places that weren’t his. He worried about spending too much money, and had to blow nearly one-hundred dollars on beers and a fine curry just to keep his head screwed on, so that the volume in his brain went down but his body temperature went up like Apollo 13, and sleeping that night in the dorm was fretful with sweat and fumes. So he struck further south in search of zeniths, where the great sounds had been cut deep from the coast by giants trying to blast passage into the centre of the country, and even they failed to make it all the way. He rode around Te Anau with a minute Taiwanese woman who was more startled by overtaking cars than the absurd landscape, and they chatted in faltering English about the Taiwanese work ethic and her chronic lack of weekends, confirming in Trumbling’s mind that he wasn’t the only one hopeless at happiness. But there he was, cut off from most things and tied chest first to others, craning skywards from the windows of a hatchback, into the void separating the rock pinnacles from the valley beds they sprang from, and the lakes that mirror snow in the sky, and the land building itself up layer by layer through blue water, pine, spidery moss, granite, sharpness, mist, ice and heaven itself and all of it one static, living thing, and sometimes the collective effect was vast 27

enough to by-pass the springs of his soul, to quiver something so far down in him that he wondered if it was merely a wavering of surface, nothing profound at all, but yes, there was a stirring connectivity in knowing that the first men to walk that land, barefoot and bereft of even the idea of a hatchback, knew the landscape was too great to reckon with as a series of geographical shapes and that it needed legends for its creation, like the sun and the moon in the tales of ancient tribes, or even modern ones, for they too are distant and impossible to comprehend, and that these vast fjords must have been carved by titans trailblazing from the ocean towards calmer ground, because the human in you is shaken by it all, and all natural triumphs that shake us must be given faces and tales and names. “Do you have girlfriend?” said Grandsire’s Taiwanese companion. He said he did not. “You smoke a lot. Perhaps you don’t smoke, you get girlfriend.” They parted amicably. Trumbling headed for the Hump Ridge track, a route he planned to master and say he had seen, not with his mind’s eye but with his feet. He took more rides with new faces: a Māori woman who said coming home after ten years was bizarre; a hunter with a dog the size of a foal, wearing his lack of formal education as proudly as a Victoria Cross; an Aussie mum and her daughter who had both survived a grisly car crash six months previously and decided life wasn’t as eternal as they’d once thought. He landed in Tuatapere under hosepipes of rain, took shelter in the old bank building and discovered it was a gallery. A gent painting oil landscapes told him it was all about owning a place by dictating the way that light fell on it, to which Trumbling nodded and thought he half understood and complimented the man on his work and the Johnny Cash records he was playing. Then he got regally steamed with some locals in the bar opposite and when they laughed at him just for thinking of attempting the Hump Ridge during the arse end of winter he declared he was a seasoned tramper, which even the drunkest punter didn’t buy. He bought a cider for a woman on the fruit machines who looked like she was falling apart and he felt he was contributing to the community. The next morning, head like some horrid savannah with bells ringing in places he couldn’t see, Grandsire rode with a bunch of men going to pick cockles in the silt of the Waiau river. They thought him mad as Caligula but dropped him at the trailhead with a bag of salted cashews and the best of luck. The opening beach was convent grey, surf up in the air and messing around, and he pecked out the first four miles gazing more intently at shabby holiday huts than the water. One had “Miles Away” splashed in gaudy white letters on its tilted roof and he couldn’t work out if it sounded wistful and heroic, firing beyond the frontier, or deranged and detached. Then the ascent began, amidst dripping trees which bothered Grandsire but didn’t faze the sand-flies. He’d heard they had been placed there by a goddess to stop men from settling in the hills, and fair play to her, he thought. Snow started poking out of the bush like spring growth, he startled a deer and the deer startled him, the slope went up like a climbing wall just as his feet reached saturation point and the cashews were wrecked too. He stuck Brahms’ second piano concerto in his ears and conducted it furiously all the way to the top. On the wildest heights all plants had been swept and frozen into contorted forms. Everything was harsh, white, or invisible. He blindly stumbled his way through troughs of snow far bulkier than himself, across buried boardwalks, to the Okaka lodge, all doors locked for the winter except one arctic dorm, no firewood, no lights, no taps. Trumbling melted snow for his drinking water, burrowed into his sleeping bag like a chilly mole and spent the night listening to the tendons in his shins shout and creak with the wind. He could not understand the appeal of Everest. He wanted broth and a world where being outside without a bear skin would not kill you. But God, who he’d always approached circuitously, works in mysterious ways up where the earth’s high crust meets the stars, and when Trumbling woke in the early hours the spirit in the sky had cleared every cloud from the ridges, and the sun shone from its rising gulf as bright and sheer as magnesium gold, and Fjordland’s majestic stretch was before him like nothing else had ever been. The tumbling bluffs and pine drops on the way up that could only be imagined and regretted on the way up, now spread out as far as the sea, a green, furrowed carpet of plunder, and Grandsire wondered whether going against people’s advice and going alone brought its own peculiar rewards and private vistas. He shared a sandwich with no one but the trail itself and headed down to the coast with the snow melting and the wind no longer a devil, pausing on his way to register the fact that the light falling at this particular time in this particular place was his and his alone, and he didn’t need to shape it. Port Craig, where whales meet the beach, Stewart Island low on the horizon, a new map to be slogged through, and rusted machinery from the abandoned logging community scattered along the weedy shingle, proving that even divine sand-flies can’t keep men away when there’s timber to be had, and that anything can become a part of history if you leave it in the grass for long enough. Grandsire bunked down in the old school house, burnt one of his novels for kindling and filled the room with smoke. Before he slept he read an old trail leaflet. It said that a century ago it could take a worker out there more than twenty-four hours to reach a hospital if a log saw went through their hand. He tried to work out how long it would take him to reach safety if tomorrow he were to sprain his ankle on the pebbles. He dozed trying to picture how big a whale would appear from the shore, wondering if he was the most isolated man on the south coast, had visions of a tidal wave higher than a weather front sailing in during the night, its approach signalled only by a typhoon roar and the vanishing of lights in the sky, wondered who it was who had once looked at the moon and said “let’s go there next,” and what did it mean to blaze trails, what was an adventure and what was a walk, were they determined by the balance between fear and boredom, comfort and pain, and what is moving about anyway? Distance, destination, the shapes and spaces in between.

Single Sad Postgrad Sharon Lam

Summer Loving “Hey,” he said. “Hey,” you said. The sexual tension could have been cut with an ethically sourced, Fairtrade labour-welded knife. “Just looking for some coconut,” he said, eagerly continuing the conversation. Ah, you thought. I know what you mean, “coconut” … “oh yup,” you replied, in a voice that was sadly higher than expected. “We’ve got coconut chips, and fine and shredded coconut too.” Nice. Very smooth. “Cool,” he said, and reached for a bag of the coconut chips. At 50cm apart, you had never been this close before—for an employee-customer relationship; this was at least second base. You could have taken one step and licked his face. You didn’t, of course. You just looked at him. He didn’t look back. It was truly the greatest romance our generation has ever seen. So, think not of how hard it is to meet new people, think not of the absolute bleakness of your realistic romantic prospects, and think instead of Hot Coconut Chip Man—his dreamy eyes, the carefree way that he would hand over his eftpos card. Yes, with his really hot spirit to guide you, 2016 will be Your Year. Your thesis will be amazing. Your love life will be amazing. Your ability to blindly hope for things while not actually doing much to change things will be amazing.

It is not hard to be single when you’re incredibly picky and incredibly shallow and have very little to offer in return. It is hard to be enthused about your studies when you’re super lazy, have a five minute attention span, and completely lack any sense of drive. And so the year stretches predictably out ahead—the creepy unrequited crushes that you will foster so fondly, the absolute cluelessness with which you’ll approach university, the social outings where you will third and fifth wheel wishing you were home instead, and being at home wishing you had gone out to third or fifth wheel instead. It’s enough to make you sigh. Sigh. If only you could return to summer and to the whirlwind romance it had brought. There was only one hot customer at the organic supermarket, and on a cloudy Christchurch morning you consummated your love in the dried fruit aisle. ‘Consummated’ here, being a very loose term. While skillfully restocking the desiccated coconut he turned into the aisle, and you turned the complete opposite of desiccated. That is, you were very wet. ‘Wet’ here as in sexual fluids arising from the sight of him, and knowing you, probably a bit of sweat too. He was ridiculously good looking and clearly out of your league. Amongst the supermarket’s usual hordes of rich forty-year old white women, he was a seven upgraded to a nine.

Breathing Space Ella Steele Spending time in a large place like Vic, it’s important to recognise the impact that different spaces have on your wellbeing. Feeling comfortable in your space allows you to flourish academically and personally. It’s also worth acknowledging that we are very social creatures and need human interaction to maintain our wellbeing. This is why it’s a great idea to suss out the different spots at Vic, and work out where to go depending on your personality and mood. The Bubble (level two, Student Union building) is a great place to go if you’re craving social interaction or need to de-stress. It’s a place to socialise, relax, and enjoy a cup of tea with the friendly Bubble leaders or your mates. Of course the Hunter Lounge is always a

chill vibe. It’s a great place to procrastinate and avoid finishing the essay that’s due on Friday, while you argue about how the latest Game of Thrones episode ignored the books over a bowl of curly fries. If you want to be surrounded by humans, the Hub is a great place to hang. It tends to be a low stress zone in Vic as people just want to chat, read, or eat. If you stick around for an hour or so you’re bound to run into a few people. If you’re feeling in a more introverted mood, I recommend (I’m giving away my secrets here) the basement level of the library. There are bean bags and tiny nooks you can tuck yourself into and hide from the world, it’s also got the philosophy section so you can read up on what the old masters have to say about wellbeing and happiness. I also recommend the Mount St. cemetery. Ditch your superstition and enjoy gorgeous views, while being surrounded by loads of trees and minimal humans. If you want to wander further, the Botanic Gardens always offer up beautiful scenery and solitude. Mauri Ora is where the doctors, counsellors, and physiotherapists of Vic reside. It’s worth popping in and registering with this service as it’s free (!), and we students are prone to developing ills and chills due to stress and living situations. Making time to look after your physical and mental health will improve your grades, your relationships, and your happiness. Be smart about where you spend your time at Vic, make the most of the social and solitary spaces to optimise your health and wellbeing.

Postgraduate Connection

The Queer Agenda

Lynette Johnson

Queer101 Lesson one: sex and gender are different You were assigned a sex at birth (female, male, or intersex [sexual anatomy doesn’t fit typical definitions of female/male]). Your assigned sex may or may not align with how you identify. If it does (e.g. you were assigned female at birth and identify as female now), then you are cisgender. If not (e.g. you were assigned male at birth, but do not identify as male now), then you may be transgender. It’s important to note that you can be trans without identifying as male or female, as gender is non-binary (there are not just two genders), and many trans people identify outside a binary—as genderqueer, genderfluid, agender etc.

Dear postgraduate students, Welcome to trimester one! I’m sure that a lot of you are preparing for tutorials, writing a thesis, or working on your research. This column is geared specifically towards you. I want to let you know that the PGSA has teamed up with Salient to bring tips and advice to postgraduate students. We plan to discuss student experiences, interview students for spotlights, keep you updated on school policy changes, and tell you about events. Our mission is to provide useful information on how to deal with a wide range of postgraduate issues; including research tips, how to deal with supervisors, and how to prepare for life after graduation. To align with Salient’s theme this week, think about the places that you will go. Where do you see yourself after graduation? Do you want to travel? Where do you want to work? Are you exploring new places or are you staying in one place—the office? At times we tend to get tunnel vision and only see what lies right in front of us. As we think about where we are now, think about how it’s going to take you to the next place in your life. As you tackle your many obligations, don’t forget that you have a life outside of school! Stressing out and being sleep deprived may hinder your progress. Find time in-between your thesis, tutorials, homework, and exams to take a breather. I wish you all a great start to this new trimester! Feel free to contact PGSA at pgsa@vuw.ac.nz if you need assistance or if you are interested in contributing to future columns.

Lesson two: sexuality is diverse Many people identify with one gender, are attracted to a different gender, and might call themselves heterosexual, or straight. Others might identify with one gender, be attracted to that same gender, and might call themselves homosexual, or perhaps lesbian or gay. There are as many variations on this as you can possibly imagine! Bisexual people might be attracted to people who identify as the same gender as themselves and to another. Pansexual people might be attracted to people of any gender or sexual identity. Asexual people might not experience sexual attraction at all. All of these exist in varying degrees—shades of grey, not black and white. Lesson three: identity is fluid While some people are set in their identity, others will change throughout their life. This in no way invalidates past feelings. If you identify as a lesbian, it doesn’t matter whether you’ve slept with non-female identifying people in the past. Your history is yours, and it doesn’t negate your present, or dictate your future. The biggest thing to take away is that everyone experiences sex, sexuality, and gender uniquely. Your experience will almost never entirely overlap with another’s. The only person who has the ability or right to define any of these parameters for you is yourself. Some people embrace labels, and some dislike them. However you experience it, your identity is valid and deserves respect.

Upcoming event: Postgraduate Interactive Forum March 22, at 4.00pm in SUB217/218 Come to the next Postgraduate Interactive Forum and listen to students discuss their research. We will have several PhD students from the Faculty of Commerce and the Faculty of Humanities and Social Sciences discussing their work. Jane Fletcher will also be in attendance to discuss employability and transferable skills. Food will be provided. If you’re keen to practice presenting your research and get feedback from fellow students, e-mail sue.kelly@vuw.ac.nz and be a presenter at the next forum.

<3 Uni-Q 32

What we talk about when we talk about science

“Sports!” Joe Morris

James Churchill

The institution integral to our national identity—sports! So integral, wife-beaters are found not guilty if they can prove their unwavering affection towards sport (re: Tony Veitch). And parents will forever stand in winter gales— weet-bix ad-esque—to watch Johnny get smashed by a “7th former.” “Sports!” provides some insight into the less elite sporting arenas, from badly kept greens, to much worse sports bars and TABs. This week’s descent is from the match fixing heights of international cricket, to the lowly ranks of Wellington’s social cricket. More specifically, to the Doh-Bro swilling, watermelon flavour vaping, Eastern Suburbs Cricket Club, Sharks. “Sharkies” plying their trade in the very social men’s—and, depending on number, women’s—t20 competition. Saturdays are the team’s Sabbath (the allusion falling down as a day of rest, but picking itself back up as cricketcum-religion); and I was lucky enough to spend one with them. The beers from the night before were shaken off and the trek made to Whitby (or Wilton, or Grenada North; generally anywhere other than their home ground, they tell me). The game, much to my surprise, was a kind of sordid affair, with the umpires increasingly appealed to—and outright questioned—as the batting team lost more wickets. Then, in an instant, a bouncer had demonstrably broken an opponent’s nose. I was hastily told “the bounce is hard to predict on these artificial pitches… and he probably should have been wearing a helmet, anyway. Right?” I wholeheartedly agreed. Luckily for morale, the Sharks won. Though now, in the designated after-match flat, around a few beers, the result seemed to have lost all importance. That catch, or that six, or that bouncer was everything needed for a night’s conversation. I asked the perpetrator—colloquially named “Zahzoo”—later that night how he felt about the poor guy’s nose: “Oh yeah, you know, these things happen. I feel pretty bad for it, y’know.” By the look on his face, he wasn’t lying—aside from the glee behind his eyes.

About three weeks ago an obscure discovery was announced. American scientists working at LIGO (Laser Interferometer Gravitational Wave Observatory) confirmed Einstein’s 100 year old theory. Gravity waves are hard to explain because they are confusing, and rely on a basic understanding of a lot of other confusing things. Exactly 100 years ago Einstein’s general theory of relativity imagined that space was like a giant sheet of permeable linen upon which indentations are made by massive objects. Imagine the sun as a bowling ball creating a crater on a sheet into which other objects sink. This is how Einstein imagined gravity. The earth is a cricket ball that falls towards the sun and the moon is a marble that falls toward the Earth. Einstein did not stop there. During a very high energy event he imagined ripples, or waves, of gravity cascading through the fabric of the universe. It’s like a pebble creating ripples in a pond, or someone pinching the sheet of linen down from beneath so it is taut and then releasing it suddenly. Einstein did a whole lot of maths that suggested these waves would exist when, for example, two black holes were spinning into each other. Now LIGO have proved him right. At this point I was going to try and explain how these waves were detected but it’s difficult and I can’t rely on bedding metaphors. You should look their experiment up on the internet; it’s cool and it involves lasers. But why should you care about these seemingly obscure and esoteric discoveries? Because someday gravity waves may provide a new lens to view the universe through. In some cases using gravity as a foundation of explanation may supersede the use of light, as gravity, unlike light, is not blocked by objects that stand in the way—there are no shadows. But these discoveries also remind us of how complicated and enigmatic the universe is. They highlight the tenacity of human curiosity, and how the creative and driven people of our planet further our collective wisdom. Finally, LIGO has given us more proof that Einstein was a total badass. Remember this is the same dude who was a pacifist and mates with Ghandhi, and said cheesy things like “you can’t blame gravity for falling in love” and “look deep into nature and then you will understand everything better.”

“Sports!” track of the week: The Naenae Express, “Rain Delay/Save the Bees”

Miss Demeanour Miss Demeanour helps a reader with ‘girl problems’ in this week’s advice column. If you’ve got probs of your own, send them to missdemeanour16@gmail.com. Shit gets real all the time. Let’s put it into perspective.

to fix those mistakes, but it was too little, and way too late. Alas, I’m stuck in friendship purgatory now where I can watch these incredible ladies live their lives through my computer. It’s a miserable scene. I don’t want this for you. Clearly you want to save this friendship, because you’re asking the question in the first place. This is a GOOD thing! It means you are a GOOD person! You want to do the right thing because you’ve known this girl for a few years and you “guess” you’re close. To save yourself, you’re going to have to be real with her and tell her how she’s making you feel. This is the only way to save the friendship. Maybe she really is unaware of how she talks to you, or maybe she’s just an asshole. If she responds with an apology and a change in attitude, you’re both winners. If she continues to make you feel bad about yourself, no one’s going to judge you for walking away. But. BUT! I’ve got some questions I have to ask: why do you want to save a friendship with someone who treats you like shit? Is it because there’s a history there? I’m not a big believer in sticking around with someone for the sake of having put the time in. Some of my favourite friendships are the ones I’ve started up just recently. Not all friendships are meant to go on, girl. I believe in expiry dates. But, I also believe in making an effort. Here’s the thing though: one thing I won’t ever tolerate is being treated like garbage by someone I treat with respect. So there’s that. You seem like a sweetie. You deserve to be treated with kindness. Stand up for yourself and tell your friend how you feel. Her reaction will guide your action. Love, Miss D.

Dear Miss Demeanour, I know these kinds of columns are places where girls write in to ask for help with “boy troubles” but I’ve got a girl prob, and not in a sexual way. I have a friend that I’ve known for a few years, and I guess we’re close, but every time I spend time with her I come back feeling drained and somewhat depressed. There’s nothing really I can put my finger on, except, well, she talks to me like I’m a piece of shit? I don’t think she’s a bad person, maybe she’s just unaware of how she talks and how when she talks down to me it really messes with my confidence. I’ve been pulling away because I don’t like feeling the way I do, and now we’re in this awkward limbo of making plans and breaking them. Do I try to save the friendship, or just let it die a natural death? Thanks, Michelle

Dear Michelle, Sometimes the non-sexual girl probs are the worst probs of all. As a girl myself I know how much of a pain in the ass we can be and I feel for your feels. I’ve got to be real and tell you that the first thing I thought when I read this was “cut the bitch loose.” But then, I look around me, and by around me I mean I look at facebook, and stalk from afar all the so-called bitches I myself cut loose over the years, and that feels pretty bad too. Lonely bad. Regret bad. There are a handful of girls I cut off too soon, for things that in retrospect, seem so trivial now. I miss those friendships and I wish I had taken the time to stop and think about the situation before deleting them. I tried

Food

Long Dishtance Kate Morten I’ve always been a sucker for vinegar, in the most extreme way possible. On our family fish-fingers-and-oven-chips nights, I always left one chip in my ramekin of malt vinegar for the entire meal, then ate it last. When I was sixteen, I hooned so many salt and vinegar Kettles that the skin on the inside of my mouth peeled off. At any given time, I have an arsenal of vinegars arming my cupboard. You name it, I’ve got it, and you best believe I’m using it in alarming quantities. It makes sense then, given my vinegar enthusiasm, that I am a fan of all things pickled. Pickles are a crazy easy way to lift the game of any salad, sandwich, or

cheese platter. So that’s what I’m giving you the recipe for in my first column. Incidentally, hey, nice to meet you. We’re going to go far, you and I. Me in London, you in Wellington. The odds are against us, but let’s make it work, shall we? As the end of summer approaches on your side of the world, now is the time to start pickling and preserving the produce heading out of season/up in price. Pickle some cucumbers before they hit $3.00 each. Save those saggy vegetables from the back of your fridge, and give them a new, tangy shot at glory. They deserve it. You deserve it. You can, and should, pickle that.

Chilli-pickled carrots

Pickled rainbow radishes

2 carrots 1 red chilli 2 tbsp caster sugar 4 tbsp warm water 250 ml rice wine vinegar 1 tsp sea salt 1 tbsp black peppercorns

1 bunch rainbow radishes 2 tbsp caster sugar 4 tbsp warm water 250ml apple cider vinegar 1 tsp sea salt 1 tbsp whole black peppercorns Give the radishes a wash to get rid of any grit or dirt, then slice into thin rounds. Dissolve the sugar in the warm water, mix in the cider vinegar, and pour over the radishes and peppercorns, in your pickling jar. Give them at least overnight to pickle, then eat ‘em on everything for the next few weeks.

Peel your carrots and slice into thin half circles. Slice the chillis thinly too. As well as using them to spice up these carrots during the pickling process, you can add the pickled chillis to stir fries and things. Dissolve the sugar in the warm water, stir in the rice wine vinegar, and pour the mixture over your carrots, chillis, and peppercorns in a jar/ tupperware/vessel.

Important: stand back when you open these. The smell is quite something.

The Arts Section 37

Visual Arts

Music

39 Music 40 Film 41 Film 42

Games

43 TV 44

Books

45 Theatre

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Louise Rutledge

Camille Henrot Grosse Fatigue City Gallery Wellington Closes March 16, 2016

“In the beginning there was no earth, no water – nothing. There was a single hill called Nunne Chaha. In the beginning everything was dead. In the beginning there was nothing; nothing at all. No light, no life, no movement no breath. In the beginning there was an immense unit of energy. In the beginning there was nothing but shadow and only darkness and water and the great god Bumba. In the beginning were quantum fluctuations.” Visual Arts

- Grosse Fatigue by Camille Henrot

It is an almost mocking tone that the narrator vocalises, “and God said, let there be light!” Henrot acknowledges she is interested in the guilt of anthropology, in the destruction that accompanies the ways in which Western society has historically gathered and collected objects. Grosse Fatigue places violence as part of both the creation of the world and the creation of the world’s recorded history. As cultural objects are re-archived into Henrot’s network of images, her emphasis on the formal properties of colour, line, and shape, as a means of connecting information, further dislocates these objects from their own histories. Instead, Henrot creates a mirror for our current climate of information onslaught. It is a process all too familiar, seeing a million search windows and applications open on a single screen in the naive hope that if all is seen, understanding will follow. The internet may place the world at our fingertips, but it is a world of snapshots filtered through predetermined algorithms and intentions.

Let’s start with blue. Blue, the colour of the heavens. The uninterrupted bottom of the ocean. Yves Klein blue. The infinite. The blue of street signs and police uniforms. Ultramarine and facebook. Midnight or royal? In the beginning there are blue walls and blue carpet. It is in this blue room that the video essay Grosse Fatigue by Camille Henrot attempts to tell the history, or rather histories, of the universe. Weaving together creation stories and mythology from religious and oral traditions with scientific details, the resulting narrative is a desperate and fanatic account of origin. The blue is fitting, calming, and all encompassing. It recalls both infinite knowledge and wealth, law and order. From the beginning, images start to appear upon a cosmic background, the cliched kind that comes with a brand new Mac. A steady heartbeat of a rhythm accompanies the narrator, who in the style of spoken word poetry, recites the journey from nothing, through birth, chaos, and towards a violent relaxation. The work is the result a residency at the Smithsonian Natural History Museum. Filmed footage of corridors, drawers, and specimens are layered with found images and disparate references. Space leggings are compared to Jackson Pollock, indigenous artifacts are (dis)placed on Pantone backdrops by hands with candy painted nails. Framed within pop-up-windows and computer interactions, the layering of imagery dissolves cultural contexts and systems of categorisation into an onslaught of idiosyncratic juxtapositions.

What’s on: River of Fundament A film by Matthew Barney and Jonathan Bepler March 19, 8.00pm Adam Art Gallery, as part of the New Zealand Festival http://www.festival.co.nz/

Oh, the Places They’ll Go—Three projects to watch in 2016

Music

Review by Dion Rogers

2015 was understatedly a great year for music, and 2016 is shaping up to be another blockbuster year. What with major record labels announcing imminent releases from artists such as Future, Katy Perry, and Lady Gaga. But while these mainstream icons receive the limelight, it’s time to shine a different coloured light on a few lesser known projects that are heating up. So here are three upcoming releases to keep tabs on this year:

Pablo; but for the most part, radio silence. There were rumblings in late 2015 of an album to accompany his new magazine, but much to the public’s dismay nothing has been heard since. We are willing to be patient Frank, but patience can wear thin…

MF Doom & Ghostface Killah – DOOMSTARKS DOOMSTARKS is the elusive collaboration that has been on the tip of every hip hop fan’s tongue since 2011. MF Doom is the metal masked overlord, ruling the underground with his comic book villain aesthetics and sampling. Ghostface on the other hand, is a bold and brash Wu-Tang Clan member whose lyrics focus on the seedy gangster life—a true villain. Many believed this dream collaboration to be pure fantasy; but with an album cover, new track, and Ghostface confirming the album’s release in February, all systems are go. MF Doom looks to stay on a creative flow, following up his NehruvianDOOM collaboration. Ghostface Killah meanwhile, is hot off a collaborative album with jazz up-and-comers BADBADNOTGOOD. The possibilities for this record are endless. Whatever dastardly deeds these two get up to, it’s sure to be a rhythmical master class.

Death Grips – Bottomless Pit “The game is mine… I deal the cards.” When an artist samples Charles Manson they are either insane, or in another realm of musical enlightenment. Death Grips are both. Their music not for the faint of heart. MC Ride, Flatlander, and Zach Hill are the shamans of this super secretive, pseudo cyber-punk, industrial hip hop group. With in-your-face vocals more akin to heavy metal, frantic drums, and searing synths, you come out of a Death Grips record short of breath and begging for more. Exmilitary was their hypnotic and primal debut. The Money Store set a later, more accessible entry point, while retaining their depraved lyrics and a sense of overwhelming energy. In the years following, Death Grips would proceed to cultivate one of the most ambiguous media presence’s of recent memory. They left their Epic label deal, leaked their albums, and decided a picture of a member’s member would make a fantastic album cover. With their double album Powers that B they returned to the aggression, sampling Bjork on the first half and tackling their darkest fears on the second half. To say they are inaccessible is an understatement; their new track “Hot Head” is no exception. Does that make them any less exciting to follow? Not even a little.

Similar Sad Boys/Girls: Bryson Tiller, D’ Angelo, Erykah Badu

Fellow Villains: Odd Future, Notorious B.I.G, Wu Tang Clan Frank Ocean – Boys Don’t Cry Frank please. If we don’t get this album everybody is going to be crying. His sensual and passionate vocal delivery won us all over on channel ORANGE; an electro funk and pop soul fusion masterpiece, with themes of love, sex, and longing that won him the Grammy for Best Urban Contemporary Album in 2013. The only problem is since that groundbreaking album, Frank has become an enigma—a ghost. He has appeared on a few features, most recently in a small adlib on Kanye West’s Life of

Similar Madmen: Clippng, Hella, Deafheaven Check them, scrutinize them and enjoy them. New music is always an adventure and in this time of new beginnings, why not switch up the soundtrack a little?

Death Cab for Cutie in New Zealand: A Live Wire Review by Wellington Tremayne

Despite personal feelings of displacement, the concert was enjoyable and I found myself appreciating Death Cab’s Grammy-nominated sound. A particular highlight was seeing the two lead guitarists stand in front of each other and rock out to each other’s moves. The lighting was extremely well done, timed almost perfectly with the changes in tempo. The song “Black Sun” off their new album Kintsugi shook the concert-hall; and I was proud on behalf of the elderly for withstanding the light show that came with it. Death Cab’s compositions are intricate due to original instrumental work and Gibbard’s distinctive voice. Not only that, but the band utilises aspects from various genres throughout history, juxtaposing classic instrumentation with modern musical ideas and themes. The band’s eclecticism is due to the way these elements are blended, and their originality comes to light when experienced live. Gibbard’s voice, a voice with a power that could never be tarnished or weakened, blends excessively well into the instrumentals. I found myself listening intently for every element, picking songs apart and then weighing the pieces against each other. Perhaps the best combination of melodies came when the band returned to the stage for the encore. Overall, this concert gave me new respect for the band. I have to stress that if you ever have the chance to see Death Cab live, do it, and don’t look back.

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Music

It’s often been said that some music is best heard live, and after seeing Death Cab for Cutie play in Wellington’s Opera House—I believe it. Playing the first of only two shows in New Zealand, this famed quartet has been called many things—indie pop, indie rock, alternative. Their style unable to fit a precise genre. But let’s just say that if you’re into the heavier indie scene, Death Cab probably wouldn’t be your first pick; though supposedly undefinable you could get away with calling them mellow. Both ends of the indie spectrum have the capacity for intense intricacy, of course; it merely depends on the band’s skill. Death Cab, it seems, hit the nail on the head when it comes to quality. The pristine white foyer of the Wellington’s Opera House, and its lounge area laced with gold filigree, provided a stunning visual preamble to the dark, rich burgundy concert hall. Still, it was interesting to see Wellingtonians treating the night as an upscale evening. The patrons were of all ages, while this was not unexpected, it surprised me a little as I had spent a lot of my childhood listening to Death Cab in the car with my mother. As I found my seat, I realized that unless one was on the floor, people were expected to stay in their seats and watch the show. For me this was odd—I’m used to having beer poured on me, spending half the time rocking out, and the other half trying to avoid the mosh. What was I supposed to do in this seat?

Zoolander 2

The Hateful Eight

Directed by Ben Stiller 3/5

“Starting to see pictures, ain’t ya?” Directed by Quentin Tarantino 5/5

Review by Hamish Popplestone

Film

Review by Benjamin Lister

In 2001, Zoolander had the misfortunate theatrical release about two weeks after the 9/11 attacks, causing moviegoers to withdraw their appetite for comedy and avoid the theatre. Blue Magnum had to wait for DVDs to circulate before it became a standard photo pose for the everyday, ridiculously good-looking man. When I viewed the sequel, Zoolander 2, the empty theatre that accommodated me patently signaled the lack of motivation from the solid fanbase that made Zoolander a mainstream classic in the early ‘00s. Ben Stiller (director/ writer/Derek Zoolander) perceptively told reporters that fans want a sequel until they get one. The low turnout for the film validates Stiller’s comment. Yet Zoolander 2 has a lot to offer the committed fans that are ready to devalue their expectations. Set in the present, as current as Justin Bieber’s new haircut, Derek Zoolander discontinues his retirement from modeling to follow an opportunity in the high fashion industry that may reunite him with his son. Will Ferrell returns in full costume as Jacobim Mugatu. He masterminds an escape from prison with the unwitting help from the senior and junior Zoolanders’ and, once again, attempts to monopolize the world of fashion. You get a sense that Stiller wants to repay his loyal fans by offloading an excess of classic Zoolander humour. The comic parts often hit high, but a lot of the product is flat—trying to shock viewers with a full tongue kiss is awkward, and not amusing. The film makes use of the same formula as the original, and contains unexpected cameos. Where David Bowie had a stellar scene in the first Zoolander, the latter has Neil deGrasse Tyson to balance the film’s fabric of intellect with his usual jargon of the cosmos. It is funny, though. If Zoolander was in your childhood experience, I urge you to fill the empty screenings of the sequel. Behind the veneer of irrelevant storytelling, the movie is a Hansel and Derek story, which is as charming a relationship as ever. If Zoolander wasn’t in your childhood experience, however, watch the original. It should be in your movie lexicon in any case, and then you can decide whether the sequel will induce enough laughs for your time.

Before production began Quentin Tarantino’s latest film was almost DOA. Following the leak of the screenplay Tarantino seriously considered releasing it as a novel, but I am certainly glad he didn’t. Using a combination of solid direction, fantastic performances, stellar dialogue, and a terrific score, Tarantino creates a masterpiece that harkens back to his earlier Pulp Fiction era. I only wish I had gotten the chance to see it the way Tarantino had intended, in full-on old-school 70mm. The reason I mention Tarantino’s earlier work is that The Hateful Eight will undoubtedly be compared to his last film, Django Unchained; and while both films are westerns that is about where the similarities end. The finished product of The Hateful Eight has far more in common with Tarantino’s first feature Reservoir Dogs. Instead of relying on extreme violence (that isn’t to say it isn’t still violent by most film standards), and large action set pieces like those of Kill Bill or Inglorious Bastards, Tarantino opts for a smaller more intimate scope, relying on strong dialogue and themes to move the story forward. In doing so Tarantino is able to focus on developing his character’s relationships, undercutting every scene and line of dialogue with distrust and paranoia. The cast of the film, as with most Tarantino ventures, excels. We get some great performances from some old favourites, like Michael Masden and Tim Roth, and some new faces in Kurt Russell and Walter Goggins. All give fantastic performances, chewing the scenery around them; but ultimately it’s Samuel L. Jackson and Jennifer Jason Leigh who take the cake. Leigh dives head first into the dirty, feral role of Daisy, putting a little bit of extra cruelty into every impolite comment she make; while Jackson revels in what might be his most interesting role in a Tarantino film to date, and finally gets to take center stage. It’s also important to mention the real star of this film. In the same way he was the star of Sergio Leone’s films back in the 1960s, Ennio Morricone crafts the music of the The Hateful Eight. The score, a first for a Tarantino film, beautifully captures the old school western feel, as well as the isolation and paranoia of the setting. Tarantino has only two films left before his supposed ten film retirement. I can only hope they are of the same level of filmmaking on display in The Hateful Eight.

The Revenant Directed by Alejandro G. Iñárritu 4/5 Review by Mandy Te

Film

Based on the nonfiction novel of the same name, Alejandro G. Iñárritu’s adaptation is hard to pin down. Iñárritu brings together genres such as action, adventure, revenge, and history, creating a film that cohesively takes a slice out of almost everything. In doing so, it makes for an experience that is tough, gritty, and at times, uncomfortably gory to watch. Set in 1823, The Revenant is about a group of trappers in the Northern Plains of America who are on a expedition to hunt animals for pelts. The group find themselves in trouble when they enter unorganized US territory and come under attack from the Arikara Native Americans who are searching for their chief’s lost daughter. Believing that the Americans have kidnapped his daughter, the chief hunts the group, and they are forced to abandon their settlement and flee. As some flee on boat, others are wary of the dangers of escaping by boat, the group’s guide and most skilled hunter, Hugh Glass (Leonardo DiCaprio), suggests that the remaining trappers walk back to the outpost. Very early on the rivalry between Glass and fellow trapper John Fitzgerald (Tom Hardy) is established, as he questions the decision and shows obvious distaste

towards Glass and his half native son, Hawk (Forrest Goodluck). After a near fatal incident with a bear, the wounded Glass slows the other trappers down. After Fitzgerald killing him to speed them up, Captain Henry (Domhnall Gleeson) insists they wait until he dies naturally, and insists they give him a proper burial. Fitzgerald fakes Glass’s death, leaving him to die in a grave. From here, what ensues is a dangerous journey fuelled by revenge, and punctuated by visions of the person that Glass values the most: his lost love. Iñárritu’s ability to incorporate a multitude of film elements including CGI, feels natural and provides the film with a unique sense of sophistication. While a partly animated bear may have initially raised eyebrows at the film’s quality, the CGI is sophistically incorporated throughout. The film is also strengthened by DiCaprio’s astounding and transformative performance that landed him an oscar (finally!). Featuring a solid cast and a director whose dedication is evident from the production process to the film’s final execution, The Revenant offers audiences a gruelling but rewarding cinematic experience. 41

Unravel Developer/Publisher: Coldwood Interactive Platform: PC, PS4 (reviewed), Xbox One

2.5/5

Games

Review by Cameron Gray

As a platform Unravel offers some challenges, but there’s really not much to rave about. The unravelling yarn mechanic has Yarny lose mass as he moves and solves physics-based puzzles. This adds an element of strategy to the platforming as leaving too much yarn will halt your progress. It’s an interesting idea, but it isn’t implemented often, and rarely did I get into trouble. The puzzles don’t really require innovation, and are occasionally undone by wonky physics, which frustrated me more than once. The graphics are by far the best part of Unravel. The environments are gorgeous and give a much-needed breath of life to the game, with every frame filled with detail and colour even when rain, wind, and snow are blasted in from off-screen. Yarny himself, in spite of his lack of character, is reactive to the environment and is animated very well—even being shown trying to keep warm in the snow. At a silky-smooth 60 frames per second on PS4, the game is clearly an efficient performer while still pushing graphical boundaries. This is a game I’d love to watch being played. It’s just unfortunate that I was the one with the controller. Unravel is undoubtedly a labour of love for Coldwood Interactive, and as their first major release it is an admirable effort. The EA hype machine made people stand up and take note, but beyond a pretty veneer and a cute mascot there is little of substance to be found. Even at a launch price of $30.00 I wasn’t satisfied, but if you wait for a sale you may get a bit more out of Unravel. Don’t tell Martin Sahlin though. He might just have a heart attack.

At last year’s E3 show, a man named Martin Sahlin and his friend, a little red bundle of wool called Yarny, appeared at the Electronic Arts (EA) press conference to talk about a game he had been making. The poor guy was so nervously excited about his project that he was shaking on stage. He very nearly fainted. In between stammers and silent prayers to not screw up, Martin showcased Unravel, a puzzle platformer starring Yarny. Inspired by the breath-taking landscapes of his native Sweden, Unravel promised a magical adventure and an emotional experience. The game looked amazing, and we all fell in love with Yarny. I just wish the game lived up to that promise. Don’t get me wrong; Unravel is in no way a terrible game. In some respects, the game is excellent and Yarny is still cute as hell. Yet, I came away from Unravel feeling little emotion at all. I was promised feels, and they did not come. In that respect, the story of the game was little more than an empty shell. At the beginning of the game, an old woman looks nostalgically at some photos, and Yarny is created out of thin air. It then goes through and explores what appear to be the old woman’s memories. That’s literally it. Yarny may be a cute representation of love and the ties that apparently bind us, but they are just not that compelling a character. There is no sense of tension or drama; we are just expected to look at the old woman’s photo album and feel sorry for her. If you want that from me, you have to show me who she is and why she is so interesting, and Unravel does nothing to indicate that her life was anything but ordinary. I didn’t care, and so I lost most my motivation to continue. 42

In Defense of New Zealand Reality Television Katie Meadows

Top Five TV Theme Songs

5. “Supermodels” —Kendall Payne (Popular, 1999) Popular is a criminally underrated gem, but hopefully you remember it from its 7:30pm Friday night slot on old channel 4. The theme song is fluffy and ridiculous, but contrasts so well with how surreal and bizarre the show was. It’s stupid catchy and a great sing-a-long. Kendall Payne is a pastor now. Huh. 4. “The X-Files” —Mark Snow (The X-Files, 1993) Completely iconic, super spooky, and in conjunction with the opening credits it perfectly captures the spirit of a 90s GeoCities webpage about conspiracy theories. The X-Files theme really sets a standard and is instantly recognizable. Great to sing after walking into a room and turning the light off. 3. “Buffy Theme” —Nerf Herder (Buffy the Vampire Slayer, 1997) Buffy was my feminist role model growing up and the theme by Nerf Herder guided me towards pop-punk as a preteen. I never ever skip the credits for Buffy because this song gets me amped up so much and I head bang along to it like a dweeb. You can now find lead singer Parry Gripp on YouTube with such videos as “Chimpanzee Riding on a Segway.” 2. “California” —Phantom Planet (The OC, 2003) EVERYONE knows this theme song. It represents the whole teen dramedy television genre. It’s overwhelmingly sincere, just like every teenager is before they become adults and die inside. Did you know Jason Schwartzman played the drums in Phantom Planet? CALIFORNIAAAAAAA. 1. “Theme of Law & Order: SVU” —Mike Post (Law & Order: SVU, 1999) I love this damn theme song. I love it. I sing along to it every episode and it’s an instrumental. Words cannot describe the genius of the SVU theme. It is art. I want it as my phone ring tone and I want my text tone to be the DUN DUN.

Last week Jordan Mauger was announced as the new star of TV3’s The Bachelor; the same week a casting call was put out for applicants of New Zealand’s version of Survivor. 2015 saw the first season of our own version of Come Dine With Me, and it stirred up an unfamiliar feeling deep in my heart—patriotism. While many loathe reality TV, and view it as vapid and superficial, I see each episode as a unique psychological experiment, an opportunity to see into the minds of people outside your own experiences and ideals. While every American reality show has exaggerated outlandish characters fighting for their 15 minutes of fame, New Zealand’s just a bit too bloody chill and humble for that, and the laid-back Kiwi spirit allows for our truly odd personality quirks to shine. On last year’s Come Dine With Me one contestant brought a different animal body part of increasing size to each dinner; culminating in her arriving brandishing a decapitated pig head on the last night. Another week one woman had no tables or plates (by choice), and made the group huddle around a small, squat coffee table eating food straight off cork placemats. The first season of The Bachelor saw several women walk off the show; including one who did not think bachelor Art Green was enough of a thrill seeker for her because he didn’t share her fantasy of holidaying in the Middle East, “listening to guns going off around us.” I was ready to hate both these shows, but the idea that these weirdos all live in my country ended up making me feel proud. I often take New Zealand for granted and worry we’re all a bit boring, but our low-budget US reality spin-offs truly give me hope. And hopefully you can catch me on Survivor this year because I’ve just sent off my application.

Books

Helen Clark: Inside Stories

Hunger Makes Me a Modern Girl

Claudia Pond Eyley & Dan Salmon Auckland University Press 3/5

Carrie Brownstein Virago 4/5

Review by Sarah Batkin

Review by Cassie Richards

Carrie Brownstein has become increasingly familiar to the public in recent years due to the success of sketchshow Portlandia, the archetype-skewering collaboration with Fred Armisen that showcases her comedic prowess. Before Portlandia Carrie was one third of Sleater-Kinney, the riot grrrl band that formed in Olympia, Washington in the early 1990s. Hunger Makes Me a Modern Girl focuses largely on the trajectory of Sleater-Kinney, and the home that music provided for Carrie following a childhood fraught with disharmony. Her mother suffered from an eating disorder, and soon after returning home from rehab, she left the family. Hurt and angry, Carrie found an outlet in learning to play guitar, taking inspiration from bands such as Bikini Kill, who were blazing a trail for female musicians at the time. After moving to Olympia, the hub of the punk and riot grrrl movement, Carrie met Corin Tucker and the two formed Sleater-Kinney, travelling to Australia to record their first album (drummer Janet Weiss would join the band later). This is a deeply personal memoir and an illuminating read for Sleater-Kinney fans. Carrie’s writing is taut and evocative as she shares episodes of teenage angst, to the peaks and pits of recording and touring, to her relationship with Corin and its subsequent breakdown. As you read it, however, her love for Sleater-Kinney glows off the page. In 2006 the band went their separate ways, and Carrie tells of how she threw herself into volunteer work at an animal shelter as a way to compensate for the loss. There is a happy ending. The band reformed in 2012 to record No Cities to Love, and are currently on tour—they played Auckland on February 29. Much to the delight of legions of fans, it seems as though SleaterKinney aren’t done yet.

Biographies can be disappointing. They rarely keep their promise of allowing you to vicariously experience genius, fame, scandal. Some are salacious and selfaggrandizing (see: Scar Tissue by Anthony Kiedis). Others are bland and insincere. What I found enjoyable about Inside Stories, however, is that Clark was not the sole contributor to the narrative. Instead, the book is a compilation of transcripts from interviews conducted by Eyley and Salmon with Clark’s fellow politicians, family members, friends, and mentors. Her life and career as a political juggernaut is discussed chronologically; beginning with her childhood in rural New Zealand and ending with her job as head of the United Nations Development Program. On a totally simplistic level I loved the book because, for me, it’s gratifying to hear stories of women in positions of power. Especially when they center on a veracious and highly intelligent woman who is, according to a New Zealand Herald poll, the greatest living New Zealander. In a country where the gap between the sexes in economic participation and opportunities has widened in recent years, this book is significant. On a technical level the dialogue is at times a little stiff and unrevealing, although that could be expected given that the stories come from one-on-one interviews and are not presented verbatim. That being said, Inside Stories is (for the most part) a balanced and holistic insight into Clark’s life, a rare phenomenon in the biography genre.

No small ideas in the Company of Giants Ophelia Wass

Whangarei’s Company of Giants is getting set to sweep us away with it’s magical rendition of the classic “The Owl and the Pussycat”. Ophelia sat down with the owl, played by Victoria University’s very own Tomasin Fisher-Johnson, and spoke about devising, empty churches, and all things Whangarei.

Were there any difficulties in the devising process? How did you combat them? It was really difficult at the beginning to find the form of the show. Laurel said that we seemed to work better when we were in a small space, so our rehearsals were confined to a drawn out circle. I think it kept us more focused and narrowed down what the feeling was.

How did your company begin? Laurel Devenie (director), Katy Maudlin and Ash Holwell (director) decided to branch out from the Northland Youth Theatre Company and make their own, and it just kept growing. We are becoming quite well-known in Whangarei, people are beginning to get used to us.

A little plug for the upcoming show? Expect magic. And music. The Owl and the Pussycat 1–5 March, 7.00pm BATS Theatre, 1 Kent Terrace www.bats.co.nz or 04 802 4175

Fringe Festival Review: How to Romance a Human (produced by Dog With Ball)

Where does the company begin with devising? Usually Laurel comes up with the ideas. She just said, “let’s do a kind of children show that can be for adults too.” I don’t even know how we began devising. It’s such a huge process. I guess we started by sitting in a circle and Laurel asked us to “say a word that you can think of to do with love” and it just starts from there.

Devised by Victoria theatre students Adeline Shaddick, Liam Kelly, Ruby Hansen, and Keegan Bragg; the play explores whether robots have the ability to have meaningful relationships with humans, and how technology can affect the intangible notion of feelings. The rectangular, stark white set becomes the clinical canvas upon which the actors dissect everything from sexbots, to Grace and Theo—the perfect couple-bots. The audience’s reception moved from suspended intrigue to cackling laughter. These emotions are cleverly produced by play’s grapple with modern issues, whilst simultaneously reflecting on their folly when in practise. Vignetted and decidedly unconventional in its approach, the high-energy performance entertained, informed, and begged the question: could robots ever be a substitute for real human experience and interaction?

What is Laurel Devenie like as a director? She’s awesome. It’s hard to put into words. We are all part of the process, it’s definitely a collaborative one. She doesn’t feel like a director—she is just there with us. Do you think that theatre practitioners should have formal training? Yes. I do. Maybe not Toi Whakaari. But some kind of training just gives you a chance to explore new theatre forms that you’ve never seen before. And it forces you to push yourself. It’s that thing of being involved in acting every single day.

Theatre

Company of Giants specialises in “space activation” and “community focused processes.” Can you elaborate on this? This sprung from our set designer/guy that’s always there, Ash Holwell, finding spaces that aren’t being used for us to take over temporarily for rehearsals. We currently occupy an old church, that we’ve got for a year. It’s nice. We have created it into a community space, and have a number of people coming through. There were live bands, and Stu Devenie has even done Charles Dickens readings and all sorts of other weird things.

Puzzles

Made by Puck Target Make as many words from the nine letters below as you can. Each word should be three or more letters, and contain the letter in the middle of the grid. There is at least one nineletter word. Goals: Good - 20, Great - 27, Impressive - 32

Medium

Solution for Issue 1

Cryptic crossword Each cryptic clue contains both a straight definition of the answer, and some wordplay which might lead you to the solution. ACROSS 1. Injured rifler versus metallic figure from comics (6,6) 9. Put a new bandage on, get better (7) 10. Combat in dwarf arena (7) 11. Has on webisode leader, before listeners (5) 12. One of the Three Musketeers holds the French windows - ones which are round (9) 13. Here Coke is mixed by a Native American tribe (8) 15. Expressions of anger with complex knots (6) 17. Emmaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s author at a Texas city, by the sounds of it (6) 19. Rubs at a bump for a very long time! (8) 22. A pearl wedding anniversary hitter hit wildly (9) 23. Charisma hurt by copyright (5) 25. Chart with symbol for gold makes for a nice, still arrangement (7) 26. Famed whistleblower Edward is trapped by ice, I hear (7) 27. A pert florist arranged a piece by Van Gogh (4-8) DOWN 1. Lumpy bits come up through a drinking device (5) 2. Act in the small hours to produce milk (7) 3. Rock and roll legend lives, sort of (5) 4. Roughly sharpen large bits of flying metal (8) 5. Lure up for a trophy or prize money (6) 6. iPod attachment for gunslinger Wyatt, honest (almost) (9) 7. Harlem Shake composer (6) 8. Keeps on ugly stripes, holding grain of salt (8) 13. Has time in city caused abstinence? (8) 14. Plain to see this location is yonder (4,5) 16. Belief in masculine, overexaggerated manliness (8) 18. Go past, sneakylike, holding me and lead (4,2) 20. Excellent postgrad degree for Nana (7) 21. Flatly refuse to polish again (6) 23. Terrible actor is a guy from Zagreb, perhaps (5) 24. Impressionist painter, one in mountain (5)

Contributors

About Us Salient is published by, but remains editorially independent from, the Victoria University of Wellington Studentsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; Association (VUWSA). Salient is a member of the Aotearoa Student Press Association (ASPA). Salient is funded in part by Victoria University of Wellington students through the Student Services Levy. The views expressed in Salient do not necessarily reflect those of the Editor, VUWSA, or the University. Complaints People with a complaint against the magazine should complain in writing to the Editor at editor@salient.org.nz and then, if not satisfied with the response, to VUWSA.

Editors Emma Hurley and Jayne Mulligan editor@salient.org.nz Design and Illustration Ella Bates-Hermans designer@salient.org.nz News Editor Kate Robertson news@salient.org.nz Chief Sub Editor Tim Manktelow Distributor Joe Morris News Reporters Charlie Prout Olly Clifton Joshua James

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Feature Writers Molly McCarthy Ollie Neas Rob Yates Other contributors Dion Rogers, Wellington Tremayne, Hamish Popplestone, Benjamin Lister, Mandy Te, Sarah Batkin, Rakaitemania Parata Gardiner, Raimona Tapiata, Laura Toailoa, Jonathan Gee, Rory Lenihan-Ikin, Utensil Lover, Sharon Lam, Ella Steele, Lynette Johnson, Joe Morris, James Churchill, Kate Morten, Puck Contributor of The Week Miss Demeanourâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;because of her sound advice on dealing with unwanted friendships.

Section Editors Cassie Richards (Books) Dana Williams and Isaac Brodie (Film) Harri Robinson (Music) Ophelia Wass (Theatre) Ruby Joy Eade, Lucy Wardle, Louise Rutledge, Robbie Whyte (Visual Arts) Cameron Gray (Games) Katie Meadows (TV) 47

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