Bulpadok 2018 by Trinity College Collections

BULPADOK

2018 1

BULPADOK TRINITY COLLEGE ARTS JOURNAL Volume XXVI

Editor Sara Court. Committee Members Cassie Deegan Phoebe Edwards Jen Harrison Daisy Moore Blake Reilly Jonathan Ta.

LEGITIMACY IN UNDERSTANDING.

LETTER LETTERFROM FROMTHE THEEDITOR. EDITOR.

his year’s edition of the Bulpadok is split into two parts: Part one: pieces Part two: interviews with the creatives At the end of part one I invite you, the readers, to ask yourselves in how far have you understood the works? Or in other words, in what ways is your understanding legitimate? I became interested in the subject of the artist’s intent (and I take artist in the wide sense of writers, composers, poets…) when, in the program of the 2017 London Production of Harold Pinter’s The Birthday Party, a featured letter exchange caught my eye. It read: Dear Sir, I would be obliged if you would kindly explain to me the meaning of your play The Birthday Party. These are the points which I do not understand: 1.Who are the two men? 2. Where did Stanley come from? 3. Were they all supposed to be normal? You will appreciate that without the answers to my questions I cannot fully understand your play.” Dear Madam, I would be obliged if you would kindly explain to me the meaning of your letter. These are the points which I do not understand: 1.Who are you? 2. Where do you come from? 3. Are you supposed to be normal? You will appreciate that without the answers to my questions I cannot fully understand your letter.” It may well be that elucidating the intent of the artist limits the ways in which their creation can be interpreted. Perhaps it even robs the piece of its deliberate ambiguity, as the exchange in the program seems to imply. Pinter indeed seems to further expand on the irrelevance of enquiring into the artist’s intent when, for example, he says to interviewer Mark Lawson in 2005 on the BBC; ‘people just need to focus on what’s literally on the page!’

This view can be said to be shared by, for example, the Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges as he writes in his introduction to Labyrinths; ‘any great and lasting book must be ambiguous; it is a mirror that makes the reader’s features known’. And yet, in how far do we do a work injustice – indeed in how far do we disrespect it by not inquiring into its creator’s purpose and, indeed, siding with our own interpretation? Take the photographs of Bill Henson for example, and the controversy they create as they are interpreted by many to be child pornography. Henson’s photographs were seized by police from his 2008 Sydney show, irrespective of what the photographer’s intentions could have been. And yet, Henson clarifies his intent is not pornographic, but rather ‘…to show the beauty in things on the cusp, blurred points of existence; adolescence, twilight’. While we each construct worlds of truth and morality which we carry with us as observers, perhaps an inquiry into the artist’s perspective can prevent us from defaming a piece for the wrong reasons. Take also David Wroth, Director of Japingka Aboriginal Art Gallery, for whom one cannot have a truthful understanding of the work in his gallery without an explanation from the artist. ‘The symbols from the Western Desert… are an expansive way of taking meaning and putting it into painting’ he says. ‘The symbols used are at the heart of what these paintings are about… to accurately understand what symbols mean in an artwork, you need to have information direct from the artist.’ If we were to just stay within the confines of ‘what’s literally on the page’ (or painting, or sculpture…) – in how far do we risk confusing meanings and taking something for what it’s not? Take the Greek marble statue that stands in the Louvre; Miletus Torso of Apollo (480 – 470 BCE) which has been mutilated by time so that it now lacks arms and legs. Compare it with Rodin’s bronze sculpture L’homme qui marche (1907) which also has no arms and no head. Do they ‘speak’ of the same thing? How vital is it for a viewer to know which omissions have been intentional? If you, the reader of this edition of the Bulpadok, decide not to continue to part two, fair enough. But beware that you are taking a risk… As Pinter said in that 2005 interview when critics took his play The Homecoming to be about sexual abuse; ‘this was never my intention, it never even occurred to me’, labelling the interpretation as ‘rubbish, actually. I don’t have time for that kind of distortion… it’s redundant’. 07 - SARA COURT

PART PART ONE. ONE. WORKS. WORKS.

12 14 16 18 22 25 26 28 31 32 34 38 40

Contents. Contents.

A CONTEMPLATION. Phoebe Edwards.

ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM. Finbar Todd. FACES. Katie Roche. MEERRTEEYT // WEERREEYT MARRAY TOOLOORT // DJA DJA WRUNG. Tarryn Love. MY CHOICE. James McIntosh. UNTITLED. Sara Watson. SKIN. Izzy Hollingdale. WHY SHOULD YOU BE GOOD. Kayvan Gharbi. [Wigram Allen Prize Winner]

UNTITLED. Priyansh Parekh. UNTITLED. Claudia Cameron. GOOD GIRLS DONâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;T BARK // HYPERSENSITIVE. Sophie Goodin.

RAPE, REPRESENTATION AND REALITY. Georgia Smith.

REDEFINING NATIONALISM. Blake Reilly. [Franc Carse Essay Prize Winner]

WHY. Daipayan Mukhopadhyay.

42 UNTITLED. Anonymous (a). // BODY IS A TEMPLE // ODE TO BP 118. 43 GLASS Ruby Smith. 46 UNTITLED. Oscar Yencken. FROM THE ZIMBABWE HIGHLANDS 48 LOVEMORE // SELF PORTRAIT. Danielle Clinton. [0]. Phoebe Edwards. 50 BASKET [Phillip Sergeant Poetry Prize Winner] 51 PORTRAIT OF A COFFEE BEAN. Blake Reilly. 52 A LETTER OF GRATITUDE. Sophie Newnham. 54 BIG BOPPA ET AL. Archie Roberts. 56 BOMPTON. Joseph Carbone. 57 DISKUNEKT. Priyansh Parekh. 58 ADELIA. Will Carr. 60 UNTITLED. Anonymous (b). 62 REASONABLE ABSURDITY. Jonathan Ta.

‘A contemplation’. Phoebe Edwards.

How legitimate is my understanding? Of myself mind being If its fragility is more legitimate Than my (il)legitimate Understanding If time makes it legit, mate Then make this moment A legislation And ledge is slate A blank slate? Absolutely illegitimate. Nothing is slated clean When each slat Of understanding Holds the hand of its past Find legitimacy In the intimacy Of time Which, in timidity Inches away Again, illegitimate. So, in answer to the question, There is legitimacy in understanding Therefore please Legislate this perception Letting me Understand

‘Elephant in the room’. Finbar Todd. A quiet, office conference room muffles the sound of copying machines, telephones and employees. Mark and Janeane, two HR workers in their late-twenties, sit on the one side of a long conference room table; their backs to the large office window showing a view of the Sydney CBD. They feign friendliness by plastering fake corporate smiles across their unscrupulous, almost robotic exteriors. The door opens and the noise of the office momentarily fills the room; quietened by the door softly closing. “John, thanks so much for sitting down with us,” Mark says. “Yes, John, we don’t want you to feel like you’re in trouble, or you’ve done something wrong. In fact, quite the opposite,” Janeane reassures. “Yes, Janeane and I want you to feel relaxed and comfortable. Can we get you a drink? Coffee? Tea? Cucumber water? I’ll get you a cucumber water.” “Listen, I just want to know what this is about.” Graham, a fat-ish, balding office worker in his forties sitting opposite Mark and Janeane, pipes up. He has a tired expression… and he is wearing a full body elephant costume. “Well, to get down to brass tacks, I suppose we’re here to talk about…” Janeane momentarily pon-

ders the following words until settling on, “workplace attire.” “I mean, don’t get us wrong,” Mark interjects anticipating Graham’s adverse reaction. “We here at the firm love to cut loose every now and then. That’s why we’ll host the annual Christmas party or have bi-monthly ‘Casual Friday’s’.” “But, it’s our clients who just don’t understand the humour in showing up to a client meeting in a giant elephant costume,” Janeane says. “I don’t understand. Haven’t I been a valuable asset to this firm?” Graham rebuts. “Of course you have, Graham,” Janeane says with enthusiasm. “You’re a damn good accountant, a damn good one,” Mark reaffirms. “I feel like, unless I’ve stooped in performance, I don’t really have any reason to be here. My choice of attire is my business, isn’t that the policy here at the firm?” “It is but this…” Mark gestures at his costume, “has become problematic. It was very funny last Friday, within the confines of ‘Casual Friday’s, but it’s time to take it off.” “Why do I have to take it off when Aasia doesn’t have to take off her ninja costume?” “Ninja costume?” Janeane says perplexed.

Aasia stands outside using the copy machine and wearing a niqab. “That’s a niqab. It’s for her religion.” “I’m not taking it off!” Graham declares defiantly. “Graham, we’ve got mountains of complaints from your co-workers,” Janeane pleads. “Who! Who’s complained.” Graham turns around to face the glass wall separating the conference room from the cubicles. Several employees are conspicuously spying on the meeting and then attempt to busy themselves with work when Graham turns around. “Just this week there has been 20 complaints about your costume,” Mark says. “There has been three workplace injuries related to your costume.” “Those were accidents.” **** Graham stands by a water cooler chatting with a co-worker while wearing the costume. A female co-worker approaches from behind. “Hey Michael,” she says causing Graham to whip around smacking her square in the face with his trunk and knocking her to the floor. **** “You broke Samantha Jennings’ nose, Graham,” Mark scolds. “I said I was sorry,” Graham mumbles childishly. “You haven’t even got any real work done since Friday because you refuse to take off those things,” Janeane rebukes. “What? These!” John holds up the elephant feet gloves that are a part of his costume. “I can do all the same work I could do before.” **** John attempts to type at his computer by

slamming his elephant feet into the keyboard. **** John attempts to use the copy machine but cannot press the right buttons. **** John delicately lifts a cup of coffee up to his lips but he drops the cup spilling coffee all over him and the cup smashes on the floor. **** “Here, give me that pad and pen.” John demands. Mark hands over the pen and pad. John clamps the pen between his two elephant feet and writes ‘Fuck You’ on the page in big messy letters. “There, see.” John asserts confidently. Janeane hangs her head in dismay. “John, what’s really going on here. I’m asking you as a friend.” “Nothing.” “John, talk to me, buddy. Is it Karen.” John’s lip starts the quiver and tears well up in his eyes. “She…ah… she left me, Mark. She took the kids and she walked right out of my life.” John begins sobbing. “Hey, hey, buddy. You’ll be alright,” Mark tries to tentatively comfort John, “You’re a great guy, you’ve got a bright future.” “The elephant’s all I got! It’s who I am now!” Suddenly Mark and Janeane sit up and straighten their clothes. “Mr. McGill, we weren’t expecting you.” A man wearing a full body giraffe suit stands behind John. “Listen buddy, I run a professional business. So you either take the costume off or you don’t come in tomorrow. Got me?” John stares back in stunned silence. Mr. McGill walks to the office door and the giraffe head gets caught on the door. He fumbles to push it under the door frame.

‘Faces’.

Katie

Roche.

Tarryn Love.

‘Meerrteeyt’ (above) ‘Weerreeyt Marray Tooloort’ (left)

‘Dja Dja Wrung’

‘My Choice’. James McIntosh. Day 0: The sleek box lay before me upon the table, the fluorescent light of the room reflecting off its polished surface. Briefly taking a moment to admire its glossy face I slipped the front of the box off to reveal the marvel of technology within. A single, small earbud lay inside, black like the box that had entombed it until now. I lifted the MyChoice+ from its case and tenderly lay it upon the table. So this is what admin had been harping on about for so long, bleeding edge technology “straight from Silicon Valley” as Trent had put it.“Listen everyone” he had said, “if we want to compete with the computers then we’ve got to become as efficient as them. I’ll be damned if some driverless car will ever replace us drivers”. And thus we were introduced to our salvation, a small, cylindrical earbud that would guide us around the city of London, and ensure the good reputation of Black Cabs continued. I must admit I was quite sceptical of the

device, especially so given it was only a prototype. In exchange for no doubt a very large amount of cash our branch manager Trent had offered his employees to be product testers, and so we drivers are to become guinea pigs as well. It was simple enough really, one only needed to plug the thing into their ear and ask it questions in our head – for us this would be what the best route to take would be and topical things to remark to clients. We were only to use it in this way and must remember to remove it at the end of each shift. It’s offensive really, but these days you do what you’re told or lose your career to some machine. As if I can’t decide for myself how to do my bloody job. Regardless, I won’t do anything that jeopardises my ability to provide for Julie and Ben. I keep a photo of them in the car at all times, her beautiful face smiling down at me while holding Ben, scarcely 4 months old even now. I smile and place the bud in my ear. Day 30: I am officially converted. My drive times have been reduced greatly and my jokes have never been funnier – the customers simply love me. It’s as if I’ve unlocked a better me, I feel empowered and at ease for the first time in years. Some of the things the device has told me to say make me sound like an Oxford man, able to discuss economics, politics and any other plethora of subject with even the most astute of my passengers. Perhaps this is what I would have been like had I continued with high school? Up until my final few years I had been top of the cohort it’s true, but in the end I opted to drop out after finally giving into my tormentors. I was bullied terribly as a child, mostly because of my small size, given the nickname Anthony the Ant. I hated those boys, the way they made me feel so small and insignificant. But all that is changing, for the first time in my life I finally feel in control, one step ahead of the game… for the first time in

Day 33: Something amazing happened today. After finishing a long shift I drove all the way home before realising that the bud was still in my ear. Exhausted, I didn’t even bother to remove it, instead walking up the stairs of the dilapidated housing block until I reached home on the 15th floor. Around me the sounds of hundreds of people living out their nightly routines filled the air, but the sweet laughter of Ben chortling at Julie tickling his chin cut through it all like the warm embrace of some tropical sea. Pushing the door open I rushed to greet them both, kissing Julie and lifting up my son into the air to his great delight. Later, after tucking him into his cot, reality returned as Julie opened yet another unpaid bill, the rising stress of impending financial doom enveloping me once again as she began to quietly cry in my arms. Each night we would enact this morbid ritual, painful silence subsiding to her quiet breaths as she feel into troubled sleep, only to be woken intermittently by Ben’s crying throughout the night for his mother’s sustenance. If only I could wipe those tears away and see her smile return, but whenever I tried to open my mouth to speak it seemed as if cold water filled it and forced it shut. “You can cheer her up”, the voice in my head whispered, startling me from my gloom. “Why don’t you remind her of your honeymoon in Spain, that night you snuck into that orchard and slept under the stars”. The bud’s knowledge of such an intimate night shocked me, but after some deliberation I found that I could speak again, and sure enough, we were soon laughing at stories of better days.

Day 66: The bud has opened a new side of life to me that I never knew. Where there is pain she replaces it with laughter, where there is confusion she replaces it with certainty. I have taken to calling her Lyla, after my favourite school teacher. Her wealth of knowledge is now at my disposal at all times, as I refuse to take her out but for when she must be charged, and it is only during this fretful hour that insecurity and fear assails my naked mind. Day 100: The bubble has burst. The other night Julie found me whilst Lyla was charging and ever since has been a wreck. Somehow she has got it into her head that I was immobile starring at the bud charging, and nothing she did or said could rouse me until I finally put the bud back in my ear. I know she is tired but honestly this is just absolute nonsense. I was probably asleep or just daydreaming, doesn’t she realise how hard I’m working. Now Julie second guesses everything I say and berates me, saying she doesn’t know if she’s talking to me or a “fucking computer”. Doesn’t she realise how Lyla has changed my life? Every question or doubt I have is answered, no longer am I paralysed by the tyranny of doubt, I merely ask and receive blissful answers. I won’t give up this new found freedom for anything. Day 220: Julie has left me. She said it was either her or the bud. Lyla made the choice for me.

Day 280: Ben is splashing water in the bath as I wash him after a rather messy painting session that Lyla suggested we do. Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve never been very artistic but she said it was good for Benâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s development. My phone rings loudly and I stoop up from the bath to reach for it on the sink. As I do Ben shifts and his head falls under the water so I quickly lunge back to prop him back up. I feel a faint tickling sensation as Lyla falls from my ear into the water with a splash. My mind goes silent. What was I doing again? There is no reply.

24 24

Sara Watson.

Izzy Hollingdale.

‘skin’. Character’s what you are in the dark A universe lives within me But no one ever comes knocking If only the dark would help them see More than my skin, this skin I’m living in A plasticine model of me, nothing of what’s hidden within Dresses in uniform head to perfect toe Malleable not valuable I know I’ll wish I had been proud But I’ve been taught not to be different from the crowd On our own we’re beautiful But my reflection tells it in black and white Without the mirror my skin is clearer Untinted by their bias lens If you fear for freckles Then bathe under the moon The light is kinder on the skin More so on what is within The mirror’s edges cut my fear Shatter the false reflection Kindle the shadowed daughter’s Fading embers into flame Maybe now they’ve met me in the dark they can see More than my skin this skin I’m living in A plasticine model of me nothing of what’s hidden within They only see my skin this skin I’m living in A plasticine model of me nothing of what’s hidden within x3

‘Why should you be good?’ Kayvan Gharbi (Wigram Allen prize winner).

Have you ever been an Uber leech? You know, that person who assures you they’ll ‘split it’, yet the next morning you awaken to discover a suspiciously empty bank account? Have you ever made off with the milk from the café fridge, or abandoned a few dirty dishes in the bathroom? Maybe it was you that infamously purloined Reece ‘Yeet’ Wheelhouse’s Ubereats? These depraved acts, along with murder and leaving a ‘Maybe’ on a Facebook event, are acts that society collectively seems to condemn as simply ‘immoral’ or ‘bad.’ Today, in a weak attempt to justify my own immoral uber antics, I will endeavour to convince you that leeching free Ubers from your friends is neither good or bad, but nothing more than an objectively wise fiscal decision.

that God cannot be simultaneously ‘moral’ and the ‘source of moral authority.’ Ironically, it then follows that if God is our source of moral authority, he himself is amoral, and hence should have no input in my own ‘Uber dilemma.’

Now that God had been excommunicated from the church of morality by our friend Socrates, my sights shifted to a new question. Why does morality exist? Why have human beings evolved to believe that certain actions are simply unacceptable? The one thing I learnt from 1st year Biology, is that all life on Earth is uniquely calibrated for SEX and SURVIVAL. A trait of a species becomes dominant if it either helps you to have sex, or helps you to survive to have sex. It’s the reason barnacles can maintain an erection 8 times their own body To commence my exposition, I must make a quick length, and the reason girls go for guys with arms observation. To state that ‘leeching ubers’ is ‘bad’ like Will Clarke. Morality arose in humans as an or ‘wrong’ offers no objective fact about the act it- outgrowth from the neural systems involved in self. Morality is a construct of human perspective, caring for your partner and offspring. This human a rosy tint on the lens of our figurative spectacles. ability to ‘care’ combined with the ability to calIn the same way that we perceive Shawn Ingle as culate long term gain, would have birthed the first beautiful, and Ormond’s rugby jumpers as hid‘moral acts,’ being short term concessions for long eous, these are properties that we PROJECT upon term gains. Behaviours including sharing, healing the world, not properties intrinsic to it. To quote one another and refraining from murder would Sheev Palpatine from Star Wars, ‘good is [simply] foster trust within a clan of early humans, increasa point of view.’ ing the likelihood of survival to reproduce. In this theory, we have established a rather amusing Given the pleasure of consulting with Sheev, my paradox. Morality, our purest and most innocuous first question would be ‘who is right?’ Who or of virtues, is a gnarled by-product of our quest for what determines these ‘moral’ acts that we ‘ought self-preservation. to do?’ We often turn to religion to answer this question, defining a moral act as ‘an act God However, I still was not satisfied. If morals are so wishes us to undertake’. My study would termirational, simply a product of evolution, why do we nate here, if Socrates had not disproved the idea experience deep emotional reactions in response of a God as the source of morality definitively in to what we perceive as ‘wrong?’ The greatest inhis Euthyphro Dilemma. It is a difficult argument justice I ever witnessed was the death of Mufasa at to express, yet can be summarised with a single the paws of Scar in Disney’s ‘The Lion King.’ question. Are we commanded by God to do certain works because they are morally good, or are such works morally good because they are commanded by God? From this question follows the truth

Why did that scene make my hands ball into fists and my eyes fill with tears, as my older sister cackled in the background and called me a ‘sissy?’ The answer, is that our moral reasoning is interconnected with primal neural systems grounded in emotion, attaching emotional valence to different behaviours. In the same way that a shot of pain from a burn prevents us from hurting ourselves, emotions regulate our behaviour to keep it ‘moral’, and hence, advantageous for sex and survival. The present day provokes an interesting tangent of study for my theory. In the past millennia, the communal and altruistic tendencies encouraged by morality have been vital for survival, from tribes sharing food to saving each other’s lives from predators. However, it could be argued that today these tendencies are no longer quite as crucial. Our stable civilisation means that developing a trusting and cohesive tribe is no longer necessary to gather food and evade predators. I can gather food using Uber eats, and predators are only really an issue for me at Billboards at 3am. For the first time in history, there is no selfish reason to be moral, there is no selfish reason to be ‘good.’ Morality is this strange memento of an alien existence, a reminder of a time that required us to help one other for our own survival. So, the final question I posed to myself, was why then, today, should I be moral? Why then, should I accept that split request at 2am on the way back from Arc? And the answer I arrived at was this. For the first time in history, generosity is truly generosity. For the first time in history, altruism can truly fulfil its intended definition. Morality has never been as meaningful as it is today, because today when we commit a moral act, we do so because we choose to. We are not good for fear of God, we are not moral for fear of survival- today, we are moral simply because we want to be, and that is what makes it all the more powerful.

‘‘FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HISTORY, GENEROSITY IS TRULY GENEROSITY”

Priyansh Parekh (ABOVE).

Claudia Cameron (BELOW).

‘Good girls don’t bark’ The man made tweezers out of fingernails, hammers out of hands. “Speak up,” he pinched, he ground, he swallowed stutters and licked lisps off my lips. Burping up snorts of laughter, curling his finger into the back of my throat for more, come hither if you dare. I dared, “Enough!” The man frowned. “Jeez. What a bitch.”.

Sophie Goodin.

‘Hypersensitive’ I have never seen war. In fact, I have never known strife more stressful than thirty seconds left in the exam room, glaring at a vacant sheet. Nonetheless, a bell will blare each hour at my school, and I will flinch every time. My fists will scrunch oxygen to its dismembered molecules, breath will curl its fingers into the back of my throat just so I can gag it back up. My stomach’s floor is a trap door and everything drops, drizzling into the crevices between my toes. Half the room will look upon me like a trauma victim who forgot to take her pills, and the other half will laugh, because what is more amusing than a little girl, so afraid of the world, that she will jump at the snap of your fingers. Fear trained into her from birth. I grew up afraid of certain sounds; Father with his nostrils like missile launchers, blasting nuclear weapons when he sneezed, Mother’s steel-heeled boots spanking the tiles as she powerwalked across the kitchen. The smack of “tag!” in the schoolyard, and the “duck, duck, goose!” at parties. I learned to be so scared by noise, I was even scared of my own.

Fear is a walking paradox: as slippery and searing as ice, yet something we hold onto above all else, until our fingers blister, and frostbite gnaws into our limbs. But that’s just the thing, see, I can’t place, exactly, what it is I’m so afraid of. Someone’s textbook free falls three inches through the air and smacks flat on the desk. Deep in the flesh, a nerve bites its tongue midchew bloody tendons and my whole body shrinks into the pain, like it wants to hold it, feel it, for just a microsecond longer, I suppose we cling to what is familiar. And so here I go again, gorging on ghost stories and psycho thrillers, chasing cracked silver moons for werewolf orgies, hunting demons by the blare of their nightmare laughter, the stench of chewed corpses lays a trail. Gulping down pins and needles, I tape my eyes open, watching everything like a police line-up: which of you is the guilty? Who must I destroy to destroy this affliction? I’ve come to a conclusion – or rather, two: either I am terrified of nothing, or everything. I do not know which is worse.

Rape, representation and reality: â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Big Little Liesâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; and the politics of depicting sexual violence on screen. Georgia Smith.

BLL has received significant acclaim as a feminist drama series that exposes the realities and complexities of sexual violence. Female actresses dominate the leading cast and instead of being passive, yet erotic, parts of the narrative’s canvas drive a narrative committed to tackling modern-issues of motherhood, career progression, marriage, rape and domestic-abuse (Mulvey’s 1992, p. 24). The realistic exploration of sexual violence is uncommon in conventional rape-revenge narratives (Lehman 1993, p. 106). Within the genre, the expectation of brutal and violent revenge corresponds with the depiction of a violent rape, perpetrated by a psychopathic stranger or gang who use weapons or force to sexually violate the victim (Cucklanz 2000, p. 10). Such representations reflect ‘public fantasies’ of ‘real’ rape, that pinpoint As this essay will have occasion to argue, the rape as an abuse of violence and, by extension, television series Big Little Lies (2017) explores an inevitable product of an imperfect society sexual violence with realistic and feminist au(Hockett et al. 2016, p. 308). BLL, however, thenticity, presenting the crime as an abuse of arguably draws upon second-wave feminism and sexuality that is intrinsically linked to female its influential exposure of sexual violence as ‘an disempowerment. However, the affective relaabuse of sexuality’ (Mackinnon 1989, p. 85). tion between audience and crime image arguAccordingly, sexual-violence is linked more ably implicate female spectators through their distinctly to the power imbalances prescribed by identification with the female victims, and in society’s socio-sexual contract or ‘sex script’, doing so participates in organising society along that defines women as passive-sexual objects gendered divisions. This essay focuses particand men as active sexual subjects (Phillips ularly on the connection between female spec2000, p. 113). tators and the image of rape, as it is the woman - her sexuality, her body and her social identity Within BLL, Jane’s narrative of rape and - that is violated on screen. While male specCeleste’s narrative of domestic-violence resist tators can resist identifying with the narrative delineating rape from sex and gender in a way or characteristics of a rapist, a female cannot that contributes to public anxieties of female escape her disempowerment which-is paraded sexual and social disempowerment. In Jane’s and-reinforced through cinema (Young 2010, recollection of her experience of rape she p. 72). It is ultimately this relationship between recalls thinking her perpetrator was “funny” representation, fantasy and social organisation and “sexy”, and recounts their retreat to a hotel that will frame the following critique of BLL. room as “beautiful and romantic”. In light of second wave feminism, sexual violence is commonly understood as a gendered crime that remains one of the most significant threats to a woman’s life (Ryan 2011, p. 775). Consequently, it is a crime that dominates normative understandings and fantasies of gender and sexuality, and the workings of the body politic. Film and-television play a particular role in this relationship, as the scene of rape functions as a site on which sexual violence can become imbued with fantasies of sexual and social difference and pervade public consciousness (Horeck 2004, p. 4). More than this, the cultural image of the ‘raped woman’ can operate as a mechanism through which collective identification is forged and social divisions of power are secured (Horeck 2004, p. 7).

A flashback accompanies her verbal recollection to Madeline. The rape scene is short, and shot from a distance behind the perpetrator, obscuring Jane. This scene, if isolated from Jane’s commentary and the preceding and succeeding shots depicting her sense of violation and trauma, could arguably be mistaken for a scene of consensual sexual intercourse. The confronting likeness of rape to sexual intercourse positions the audience to consider how gendered sex roles of male dominance and female passivity allow for the abuse of sexuality. Similarly, Jane’s chilling expression of violation presents rape as the ultimate expression of female disempowerment. Finally, Madeline’s emotional response to Jane’s account of rape highlights the manner in which sexual violence confronts the anxieties of women as collective and, is arguably symbolic of the extent to which sexual violence forge ‘social bonds’ through women’s identification with one another’s sexual vulnerability (Horeck 2004, p. 4). Interwoven with Jane’s narrative is the narrative of Celeste, a mother of twins and victim of domestic abuse. Like the scene of Jane’s rape, the representation of Celeste’s abuse presents the crime as a violent expression of gendered and sexual power relations. In the second episode, a scene introduces the abusive relationship between Celeste and her husband Perry. Within this scene, violence and sexual intercourse are conflated into an uncomfortable spectacle. In an argument, Perry strikes Celeste across the face. She returns the strike however cowers once he throws her against the wardrobe cupboard. In noticing her pain and terror, Perry becomes less violent, almost remorseful. He embraces her and caresses her but as she tries to physically resist, he holds onto her wrists, stopping her, dominating her. As he pins her to the cupboard

he starts kissing her. At first, she resists but then appears to consent. After Celeste unbuttons his pants, he turns her around and pushes the front of her body against the cupboard and penetrates her. The following scene of penetration is uncomfortable to watch as the lines between violence and sexual intercourse, consent and coercion are blurred. While the scene leaves the spectator to decode whether the encounter is rape or sexual intercourse, the scene unambiguously presents the distribution of power within the encounter: Perry is dominant, Celeste is dominated. The clear imbalance is reflective of the way in which the socio-sexual contract secures the binary of woman as passive sexual object and male as dominant sexual subject. The scene speaks to Mackinnon’s (1989, p. 85) assertion - that rape cannot be demarcated from sexuality, as doing so denies recognition of the way gender, sexuality and power interact at the expense of the violated woman. Thus, the conflation of violence, sexuality and gendered sex roles in BLL arguably attests to Horeck’s (2004, p. 4) contention that rape, and depictions of rape, ‘dominates public fantasies regarding sexual and social difference’. Not only does BLL contribute to public fantasies of female sexual and social disempowerment, it legitimises the imaginary lines dividing men and women within the body politic through the audiences’ relation to cinema. Young (2010, p. 9) terms this relationship between spectators and the crime image as affect. She argues that spectators are incapable of ‘just looking’, as the crime image is registered in the bodily senses of the spectator (Young 2010, p. 70). The affective relation between audience and image arguably results from spectator’s identification with characters within the crime-image.

Ellis (1982, p. 43) argues that identification occurs through two interacting processes: ‘the recognition of self in the image on the screen, a narcissistic identification, and the identification of self with the various positions that are involved in the fictional narration’. Celeste and Jane, like the other female protagonists, are characterised as modern mothers whose genuine concern for their children and friends, and their experience of gendered violation is arguably relatable to most women. Consequently, instead of ‘just looking’ as Celeste is struck or Jane is raped, the violation on screen has a sensory impact on the female spectator (Young 2010, p. 70). More simply, Celeste and Jane’s disempowerment is felt, understood and registered in the body and mind of the female spectator.

The series’ closing scene is ultimately a potent illustration of the way rape, and cultural depictions and understandings of rape, order the body politic. The female protagonists, who have conflict and differences throughout the series, are unified on the beach without their husbands; their unexpected connection the result of their respective involvement in Perry’s death. This scene arguably illustrates the way in which women, despite difference and individuality, are inevitably connected through sexual violence – a crime that doesn’t just impact the victim, but implicates the very identity and dignity of women (Young 2010, p. 72). Ultimately, cinema does not play a passive or reflective role in this ordering process. Rather, the image of the raped woman acts as a site on which social identities are forged and power relations are secured. Thus, despite efforts to depict sexual violence with feminist authenticity, Big Little Lies arguably participates in reinforcing women’s sexual and social disempowerment.

(See final pages for full list of references.)

The inability for spectators to wholly dissociate representation from reality reflects Pisters’ (2003, p. 223) assertion that ‘cinema is a part of the world rather than a reflection about it’. Accordingly, representations of rape and sexual violence cannot serve simply as a means of exposing the confronting relationship between rape and sexual and social difference. Instead, the image of the ‘raped woman’ secures the socio-sexual contract by positioning the female spectator to embody the disempowerment associated with her gendered position on screen and in society (Horeck 2004, p. 7). In this way, BLL does not just impart female spectators with a reflective reminder of their subjugation but instead forces women to feel and register their social and sexual vulnerability. This affective process serves as a means of collective identification that attests to Horeck’s (2004, p. 4) assertion that ‘cultural images of rape serve as a means of forging social bonds, and of mapping out public space’. It therefore follows that the

series, despite feminist intentions and realistic depictions of sexual violence, participates in the perpetuation of women’s disempowerment.

An excerpt from: ‘Redefining Nationalism: Citizenship in the Global Century’ Blake Reilly.

Franc Carse Essay Prize Winner.

The diversity of cultures seen across the world is testament to the complex and multifaceted nature of human relations. This great variety in national identity fundamentally inspires all pursuits from travel to trade, however, in a world of ‘global citizens’ with increasingly international perspectives, the role of national identity seems to be regarded as somewhat less significant than it was in the past.

…national identity must be redefined so as to be determined instead by three primary principles: a nation’s civic institutions, its cultural achievements, and an understanding of national history. Crucially, these principles are able to be taught, learnt and engaged with by all members of a political society. When the foundations of national identity are inherently inclusive, then having pride in your nation is not an exclusionary behaviour. Nationalism becomes, therefore, …within our contemporary political context, the the concept it so ardently seeks to be; inherentsentiment of nationalism is blighted by negative ly, national identity is a celebration of tradition, connotations of intolerance and discrimination. of culture and of unity. In times of global poCritics suggest that the notion of a common, litical unpredictability, it is imperative that we unifying national identity is in fact a divisive acknowledge the universality of common hu(rather than a uniting) idea to embrace. These manity, and seek to understand that nationalism connotations are of course somewhat justified: is defined not by the exclusion of others, but by archaic nationalistic visions have in the past con- the celebration of an inclusive national identity. tributed to interstate conflict, intercontinental war and colonial expansion. However, it is this restrictive view of nationalism which citizens and governments alike must seek to redefine. Indeed, it is ever more important to do so in these times of global mass migration, where various groups perceive migration as posing a threat to social cohesion. Individual intolerance towards cultural diversity must be deterred by a new understanding of what national identity truly means, where it is derived from and hence, why each and every citizen has the right to be proud of their nation.

‘Why?’ Daipayan Mukhopadhyay. SCAN CODE TO LISTEN TO THE FULL SPEECH.

â&#x20AC;&#x153;For every thought is good, every idea should be accepted, and every voice heard. Most importantly, every question should be asked, no matter how simple or how complex. Why should I be legitimate in my understanding? Why should I not?â&#x20AC;?

Anonymous. 42

(a)

‘Glass’ I dreamt last night my mouth was full of glass. I’d broken something and didn’t have the hands to carry the pieces, so I put one, two, three shards upon my tongue for safe keeping. But when I got to the sink, and I went to spit them out, I found that they’d turned to gravel, glass gravel, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get the last remnants from my tongue – from behind my teeth – from my throat – and my spit was coming out red, red and full of glass, and my mother – my mother was saying I told you so Ruby (ruby red, ruby red stains against the porcelain, oh! the irony) as she made no move to help.

Ruby Smith. 43

‘Body is a Temple’ be honest with me baby, I didn’t mean to leave you cold and bored and underwhelmed and if I did? I’m sorry but there’s no more left for me to give and still be whole because your body is a temple, a place I should not go a pleasure garden meant for someone else, who? I do not know I remember being hesitant but you told me just a touch, just a taste was alright for my sins, I believed you was surprised when you didn’t stay the night and your body is a temple, a place I should not go a pleasure garden meant for someone else, who? I do not know someone prettier, or wittier, she’ll make you wait a while and only give in like a good girl, once she sees you smile but in the meantime you can think that I danced just for you pretend I worked to turn you on and all those times you thought of someone else – you can pretend I thought of you, maybe I still do

‘Ode to BP 118’ o what things you must have seen, oh tiny room! “the last unrenovated corridor” and god knows you can tell – beer stains on the ceiling? how nouveau! (private-girls’-school-me trembles in excitement.) [REDACTED] got high in here last year and pissed all over the sheets. he’d handcuffed himself to the bed and apparently they didn’t change the mattress. in the night the hot water pipes hum and murmur. if you get drunk enough they talk to you – quiet, comforting nothings, just like a teddy bear. inside the cupboard door, kate kirby’s name: a reminder of all things calm and implacable. what would kate do? tea, surely. biscuits potentially. for my birthday my friends buy me a buddha head from aldi. I name him gladys because fuck gender norms and now he sits on top of the plywood cupboard and watches while I sleep. him and the pipes don’t get on so well, but you can’t have everything. we gave a friend a sikh baptism with white wine from dinner, and it mingles with the decades of stains already embedded in the maroon ‘carpet’. who knows what they could be? some look suspicious, but I suppose it’s all just part of the aesthetic experience. they’ve renovated you now, oh humble bishops 118 – and honestly it’s a shame. my new room is clean and not mine. I know the pipes have been silenced.

Oscar

Yencken.

â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Lovemore from the Zimbabwe Highlandsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;

Danielle 48

‘Self-portrait’

Clinton. 49

Phoebe Edwards. Phillip Sergeant Poetry Prize Winner. ‘Basket [0]’ quivering acrylic nail clacks Enter key as URL’s underscore lags in vexing mockery of user’s breath suspended by blank screen stare

checkout, paypal spews her home address regurgitates her middle name regorges her personal details real best pal

clack clack clack clthrough! kaleidoscope screen of consumptive Ecstasy at which wallet mouth gapes baring credit card teeth

euphoria now a receding hairline exposing bald shame guilty and naked

one polo needed hello, three for two? clack! flash flood satisfaction engulfs a parched terrain

fingers bow down before screen’s holy glow to drink, to repent by black rock-pool keys wearing silver haloes

hooked clack clack crack on recreational highs five items, fifteen, fifty! soul-stuffed to satiate an empty shopping basket mary-jane shoes patter an attempt is made, “mummy-” “in a minute!” cuts across mummy will be loved when the postman delivers

A PORTRAIT OF A COFFEE BEAN

She is the one I cannot compare, When her sweet aroma fills the air. She hails from foreign tropical lands, Where the air is thick and warm and slow, Packaged to be sent across the seas So that she may fuel in but a sip, All work from bus driving to banking. She sits in the cafĂŠs where students, Sulkily sifting syllabuses, Await their caffeinated muses. Arabica or robusta, Whichever tends to start your day, No bean, blend or batch will betray. Listen to the kettle whisper, Breaking the dull quiet of dawn, Hear the grinder cogs creaking through Fine grounds for the imminent pour. A rush of steam - a sultry dance, Darker so than the night just passed, Each bean crushed, filtered to the last.

Blake Reilly.

Ambrosia for the mere mortal kind, She sits not at Mount Olympusâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; peak, But behind the windows of stretching glass, Waiting on the desks and meeting tables, Or in the palms of people hurrying Along the footpaths of our city streets, From Amsterdam to Zimbabwe afar, The world be it either home or abroad, Coffee is always there to wake the mind Of all those whose tender lips she may find.

‘A letter of gratitude’. Sophie Newnham.

G’day g’day. I’d like to introduce you to Cheryl. An alter ego I made up just now. Cheryl is 20 years old. Those who know her well call her Chezza. And when I say ‘those’ I mean me. I’ve known Chezza for about two minutes. I think she has short curly hair with a fringe which was fashioned by a friend on a boring Friday night. Her mother gave her a straightener when she turned thirteen. The straightener is still collecting dust in the back of Cheryl’s closet; alongside a bunch of old JJ’s cookie monster t-shirts and an iPod Nano. Cheryl doesn’t have time to waste on hair. Chezza just got back from her first trip to Europe with a bunch of mates. I’m going to stop there because I don’t have the insider knowledge to make up what Cheryl got up to. (A bit strange that my alter ego has been on a European holiday and not me, but moving on.) I can only base such info on the endless Instagrams I saw over June. But Cheryl kept her cool and only uploaded three photos, including her first ever bikini pic which was exhilarating and scary and consisted of a lot of people saying, “Omg Cheryl you have to gram that.” “What the hell Cheryl you hottie.” “Try this new filter app- it makes your photos look vintage.” Cheryl lives at an incredible residential college. Chezza’s doing ‘fine’ at uni. She just passes her Arts subjects and wonders what the hell she’s going to do with this degree. Cheryl can’t help but feel like she’s not quite achieving the whole ‘rite of passage to adulthood’ like every other H1 averager, internshipper and senior student who lives alongside her at Yasqueen College.

Not to worry though. Cheryl may not have the highest IQ but her EQ is off the charts. She’s a pure and sensitive soul who spends her weekends at the drive thru Macca’s window (of which her diet mostly consists of) and for some reason is always dishing out boy advice to the amazing number of friends who have real life, loved up, grown up relationships (despite never having had an actual serious long-term male companion herself, ever.) But none the less, she’s here for her friends and listens to their afflictions on meeting the parents, how little sleep they get and what’s going to happen in the future when their men aren’t 50 metres away!!!! Chezza’s recently joined the gym and now her body is a temple (besides the McDonalds). Thankfully, for an unknown reason (something to do with transparency) her college just loves to serve an endless supply of steamed zucchini and cauliflower. Having said all of this, and with everything that’s going on in Cheryl’s life, she’s been doing a lot of reflection. She likes to remind herself, and other residents at times, just how fortunate their lives are right now. Life will never be this easy. She is fully capitalising on the social life this college provides her; Uni support, gym benefits (despite how long it took her to actually go), food, wifi, hundreds of extra Instagram followers, free medical certificates, parties and so-much-more.

It’s all of these things that Chezza takes for granted that allow her to focus so intensely on the Bachelor and spend her part-time job wages on dresses she doesn’t need and will wear for three hours. But life is grand and golden and glo*this is based purely on Cheryl’s life, not my own rious, and it’s even better when the Melbournian experience. I’ll never admit otherwise. Winter ends and Cheryl can smell like sunscreen rather than the sweet scent of Bondi Sands.

Archie

Roberts.

Joseph Carbone.

Bompton Bridge the gap Between your mouth and your heart. Be smarter Because it pays to stop being a dumbass

Breathe Beyond the present. Anchor yourself to your chair.

Behind closed eyes. Visualise your tasks for the day. Bravery has nothing to do with this. Benign. Pray for that. That’s what you are, also. Butt – you’ll just piss off another good girl. dum-

bass. See? Brick and mortar, okay? Let’s start there. Bridge the gap. Between their mouth and your heart. Be wiser Because God knows it’s better than being smart. Breathe. Even though the sun’s just gonna eat us up one day.

huh, i’d forgotten

about you

that, actually… Tell

Because you’re finite. Go have fun. Someone should. Bridge the gap. Between what you know and what you understand. Because the sun’s just gonna eat us up one day.

what? You go do you.

Priyansh Parekh. ‘Diskunekt’ Your life is ticking Stopwatch Stop and watch What’s happening in front of your eyes Please realize the real lies Stop living online Live a little in the moment before it flies Before a loved one dies, I’m not saying throw phone But the balance is a compromise Take everything in a moderate size Spread love don’t despise Don’t let your jealousy hypnotize you Because that’s what everything ties into Don’t let a broken streak break you.

SCAN CODE TO READ THE FULL SCRIPT.

WILL CARR.

Anonymous (b)

‘Reasonable Absurdity’. Jonathan Ta.

The modern human experience is, for the most part, characterised by an adherence to reason. We undertake certain actions because they meet needs, satisfy wants, or prevent ills – be it quenching thirst with a glass of water, buying those new shoes online, or brushing our teeth at the end of a long day. What falls outside these conditions is deemed irrational; trivial or impossible matters that can be disregarded. I would argue, however, that the inane should not be so quickly dismissed, for while reason defines what is absurd, absurdity can likewise define what is reasonable. By dispersing, magnifying, and allowing us to empathise with criticism, absurdity serves as an unorthodox and invaluable lens through which to view the world around us.

these parts, and produces a person who acts based on not only their wants and needs, but also on how they wish to be viewed by society. This preoccupation with our impressions on others thus defines our very thoughts, and creates distinctions between the acceptable and the taboo, the worthwhile and the trivial, the reasonable and the absurd.

These psychological norms of logic and ‘fitting in’ mean that the boundaries between reason and absurdity cannot be easily rewritten. We can, however, strive to see the absurd as a critical reflection of the reality in which we live. This criticism is effective for a number of reasons. For one, outrageousness allows social critics to bring lesser-known concerns out to the forefront. The power of reason, around which so much It is the nature – and often intention – of of our current world revolves, can be seen absurd styles and forms to be eye-catching as derived from two sources. There is our or outstanding in some way. Absurdity thus innate ability to use logic - to see the efdoubles as an ideal platform to break from fects we may cause and act according to our the conventions of society and initiate mainpreferences. Interwoven into this, however, stream conversations about latent, often lies a regard for the logic and views of socisensitive issues. A perfect example of this ety at large. The philosopher and sociologist lies in the highly-anticipated release of the George Herbert Mead coined the notion of film Crazy Rich Asians. Based on the equal‘Symbolic Interactionism’ to describe this ly extravagant novel of the same name, the phenomenon. Mead posited that the very movie centres around questions of love and identity of a person is a constant dialogue family in the detached, flamboyant upper between two parts: the ‘I’ and the ‘Me’. ‘I’ circles of Singapore’s social élite. Finishing represents the dimension of self that is first at the box office in its first four weeks unique to the individual; the essence of a and distributing to over fifty countries, the person’s own experiences and knowledge. movie’s wide exposure and popularity only ‘Me’, on the other hand, is the dimension of magnified the influence of societal issues self that is social. It is the part of a person which it discussed. While scandal-producwhich engages with family, friends, and the ing marriages are not a norm, seeking your wider community, and is thus significantly family’s approval of your loved one is highly influenced by them. Decision making, acrelatable. Nosy as it may seem, the love of cording to Mead, occurs at the confluence of our families means that they have an innate

interest in our lives and feel it necessary to provide their commentary. The lavish ceremonies and opulent celebrations, however, also give rise to criticism on social issues offstage, such as that of Asian representation in Western media. In the United States, Crazy Rich Asians was praised for its all-Asian leads – a move not seen since The Joy Luck Club in 1993 – and defying the Hollywood norm that ‘Asian characters can only be shown fleetingly, if at all.’ These casting choices, however, proved much more controversial in Eastern cinemas. Many were quick to note that – consciously or otherwise - the portrayed oriental utopia virtually erased the presence and contributions of Singapore’s significant Malay and Tamil minorities. Critics accused the film of fuelling ‘Chinese dominance’ of Singaporean culture and media; an exacerbation of latent ethnic tensions in what Edward Said named the ‘Israel of Asia.’ As is the case with many things deemed ‘absurd’, the extravagance of Crazy Rich Asians caught the attention of the wider public, and thus shone a light on universal and particular social issues alike. Most explicitly, absurdity also acts as a magnifying glass, augmenting the inane to further stress the criticism which it embodies. A well-established example of this is satire. With a history that stretches to the days of Aristophanes, satire has long been used as a means to identify and amend the shortcomings of society. A satirical work particularly notable for its outrageousness is Alan Ayckbourn’s aptly titled Absurd Person Singular. The play is set in three kitchens over three successive Christmases, and chronicles the fortunes of three couples, each of a different social class. Ayckbourn documents the extravagant rise of the ambitious and tasteless middle classes, represented by Jane and Sidney Hopcroft, and the consequent decline of the landed

aristocracy and wealthy professionals – Ronald and Marion Brewster-Wright and Geoffrey and Eva Jackson respectively. The play’s satire becomes absurd social commentary in the final act, set in the Brewster-Wright home. With an unaffordable heating bill and a growing marriage of toleration, the aristocratic household is portrayed as both physically and emotionally cold. No gathering was originally planned, but when the newly prosperous Jane and Sidney arrive uninvited, the Brewster-Wrights and Jacksons are compelled to dance with them. It becomes clear that Sidney is Ronald’s last major client at the bank, as well as Geoffrey’s final hope of employment as an architect. The curtain falls with Sidney standing on a table, commanding ‘Dance. Come on. Dance. Dance…’, and everyone else acquiescing to the power which his wallet and newfound social standing wields. This absurd, almost sinister ending amplifies the social change which Ayckbourn saw around him; the landed ‘old money’, unable to compete with the ever-enterprising middle classes, now required to bow to their demands. Absurdity in all its silliness thus lent significance to Ayckbourn’s social commentary, and made his criticism all the more potent. In addition to diffusing and magnifying criticism, accepting absurdity also allows the audience to see the world in a different lens entirely. Mead’s notion of symbolic interactionism told us that societal views and norms greatly contribute to a person’s self, and therefore their outward opinions. As such, different cultures and social classes, informed by different environments, produce different boundaries between the reasonable and the irrational. Unconventional as it may seem, clear evidence of this comes from shows such as the popular Chinese Dating with the Parents .The dating show

the parents of five candidates interrogate and compete for a date with a suitor of the opposite gender – all while the candidates themselves observe from soundproof rooms. What Westerners may see as a bizarre level of parental oversight in such a personal affair, conservative Chinese families see as a 21st century manifestation of the age-tested values of filial piety and due deference. While this premise may seem peculiar, the ensuing disagreements between ‘considerate’ parents and their disgruntled children offer yet another perspective. Parents on the show tend to search for homemakers and, often, virgins, whereas their daughters and sons are more open-minded. Arguments over these differences thus come to embody a larger, society-wide dichotomy between the older, more conservative generations and their younger, more progressive counterparts. Viewers of the show are given insight into how this generational conflict affects Chinese families today, with SBS contributor Siyi Chen describing it as ‘too real to the point that it’s painful to watch.’ In being a shamelessly augmented hyperbole of the average Chinese experience, Chinese Dating with the Parents gives the audience a snapshot of this markedly different system of family and marriage, allowing them to empathise with criticism and social conflicts from cultural systems distinct from their own. Reason has long been extoled as the crown of human capabilities, giving rise to science, empiricism, and logic. Through processes such as Symbolic Interactionism, reason translates into a regard for the knowledge and views held by wider society. In these circumstances, absurdity is often dismissed as trivial, lightweight, or even plain nonsense. To the contrary, the absurd has much to offer

as an unconventional vehicle of criticism. Its eye-catching nature allows the inane to start conversations and illuminate unknown causes, whilst also magnifying the criticisms made. Further still, absurdity provides a charged snapshot of social issues affecting other people and other cultures, lending empathy and greater understanding. These astute, albeit unorthodox capacities demonstrate that things deemed absurd, inane, or silly are far more than just ‘lacking sense’; it is this very absence of reason which often leads absurdity to reasonable ends.

PART PART TWO TWO. INTERVIEWS. INTERVIEWS.

70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 68

Contents. Contents. PHOEBE EDWARDS // Blake Reilly. FINBAR TODD // Phoebe Edwards. KATIE ROCHE // Cassie Deegan. TARRYN LOVE // Daisy Moore. JAMES MCINTOSH // Jonathan Ta. SARA WATSON // Jen Harrison. IZZY HOLLINGDALE // Sara Watson. KAYVAN GHARBI // Blake Reilly. PRIYANSH PAREKH // Cassie Deegan. SOPHIE GOODIN // Phoebe Edwards. GEORGIA SMITH // Daisy Moore. BLAKE REILLY // Jonathan Ta. DAIPAYAN MUKHOPADHYAY // Jen Harrison.

83 ANONYMOUS (A) // Sara Court. 84 RUBY SMITH // Phoebe Edwards. 85 OSCAR YENCKEN // Blake Reilly. 86 DANIELLE CLINTON // Cassie Deegan. 87 SOPHIE NEWNHAM // Jonathan Ta. 88 ARCHIE ROBERTS // Jen Harrison. 89 JOSEPH CARBONE // Sara Court 90 WILL CARR // Phoebe Edwards. 91 ANONYMOUS (B) // Jonathan Ta. 92 JONATHAN TA// Daisy Moore.

Interviewer: Blake Reilly Interviewee: Phoebe Edwards Blake: Why does our understanding of ourselves change? Phoebe: Well whether we like it or not, the reality of our experience is that we are shaped by every interaction we have... Our understanding is in a perpetual state of flux: be it what we want to do in the future or who we want to surround ourselves with, these might pause for a moment but they are constantly evolving. Blake: What does the diagonal line spacing in your poem a contemplation’seek to convey? Phoebe: There are three stanzas where the lines are spaced out like stairs and I wanted that to appear like steps into the new perception; the words fall down into a new thought and a new stanza. I decided that each line would take a few words from the line above it to then change them into something else, acting as a visual representation of change.

Blake: Was there a particular event – perhaps an online purchase – which inspired your second poem basket [0]? Phoebe: I think it was more that during the Easter break I had been watching a Netflix documentary on minimalism and it really made me think about how much we do actually consume in our lives, and also how much we depend on it. Blake: What is the role of consumerism in society – is it an inherently bad thing?

Phoebe: I don’t think it is totally negative, my poem really looks at when it becomes hyper-consumption and so consumerism loses what we set out for it to be, namely a means to provide more opportunities and greater scope to carry out our lives. The problem comes in when we conflate consumption (and the satisfaction that it brings us) with what is really important in life like human Blake: Can we ever have an entirely clean slate, relationships – sometimes we cling onto the or will the residual parts of our old selves always wrong things for satisfaction. For example, in inform the future? my poem the woman is likened to a drug addict who cannot look beyond that rush of buying. Phoebe: There is that whole debate as to whether you are a clean slate when you are born... I think the answer is no, because you will already have been influenced by your parents and the society you are born into. I think that is what makes us so complex as a society – we can never really start anew because our history is what shapes and defines us.

Interviewer: Phoebe Edwards Interviewee: Finbar Todd Phoebe: Were you inspired by a particular experience or film to write this piece? Finbar: I was inspired by the TV show Wilfred, which was originally this trop fest film done by Adam Zwar about a guy who goes home with a girl for the first time and her dog is this man in a dog costume… And the girlfriend treats the dog as if it’s just a regular dog, but the guy sees it as a man in a dog costume. I thought that was really funny, so I wanted to do that in a script somehow. As well as that, there’s the obvious office inspirations. I love Ricky Gervais’ style and general office comedies like Utopia. The office is an interesting space for me because, you know, there are very rigid rules that all audiences are aware of in office settings: dress code, authority and things like that, so it’s always easy in comedy to subvert that. Phoebe: Is Graham’s costume representative of something specific like depression after his family breakdown? Or is it literally him ‘acting out’? Finbar: The elephant costume is sort of the external manifestation of his depression. And, you know, it affects his co-workers and his work to some extent and it’s sort of a corporate reaction to depression which is very unfeeling and impersonal. And… in every-day life, like, you think about the posters that are around college are generally the step by step process to handling depression. It’s very surface level. I mean, everyone’s mental health is gonna be on a case by

case basis, you know? Some people could look super happy and not feel it until they’re in their rooms. And no one could know. Some people could be violent and some people could be distant, so my piece is kind of an attack on that step by step approach to mental health. Phoebe: I thought the turn around in the piece was quite powerful, where he’s being offered support and then it just upends in a split second. I think that’s quite indicative of support that’s offered, whether it be at school or university or at work where someone will offer help to an extent and then could switch to total disinterest or harshness. Finbar: Yeah. Well it’s when the method doesn’t work. With mental health, people get tired of trying when the method doesn’t work. Phoebe: One of the main things I thought worked really well was the metaphor of the costume, because it is interfering at work and HR is clearly trying to be sympathetic but it ultimately does affect the rest of the workplace. Finbar: Yeah, and in that sense there’s a business to run there. What’s the extent that a business can, you know, deal with someone’s mental illness. Do they have to suffer profits or productivity? Is there a formula to how much you want to keep an employee who’s suffering from mental illness?

Interviewer: Cassie Deegan Interviewee: Katie Roche Cassie: How do you go about starting your pieces? Do you look at a subject or is it more organic? Katie: Usually I start out my pieces by finding a photo that I have of a friend or myself or family and usually I tend not to look at the page, I just see what my hand does. Cassie: I love the fluidity of your work. Did it take much practice to be able to draw in one go? Katie: It’s taken a bit of practice but largely it hasn’t been intentional. I did an exploration project in Year 6 where we had to look at our hand and draw on the paper without looking at the paper, I ended up with some really funky looking things, so I’ve continued to do that since then. Sometimes I’ll look at the page and it’ll be the most hideous thing I’ve ever seen but a lot of the time it turns out to be like really interesting, weird stuff. But yeah, largely unintentional.

Interviewer: Daisy Moore Interviewee: Tarryn Love Daisy: What influences your art making?

that was how an animal was not eaten, not overused.

Tarryn: Most of my artwork focusses on my Indigenous heritage and background. My Aunty and Grandma taught me about my culture and I show this learning, and show other people, through art. They taught me to use traditional materials too - I try to use naturally mixed ochre and water on some of my works, however for convenience I mostly use oil and acrylic. They taught me the symbolism and what I’m allowed to show… (pause) Some things are not appropriate to put on display. I’m mainly interested in Western District art, a lot of people only think of dot paintings when they think of Indigenous art, but we don’t use dots down here.

Daisy: Talk me through some of your important relationships.

Daisy: One of your artworks reminds me of vaginas… Talk to me about that one! Tarryn: (laughing) that’s the inside of a bush nut, from the bush (Framlingham Bush) near my Country! It’s a coincidence that it looks like vagina’s because traditionally women would go out and gather food from the bush. So it represents Women’s business collecting the food and when it is time seasonally to do that.

Tarryn: My grandpa is a big influencer for me. Ivan Couzens. He was part of the Stolen Generation. He lost contact with his parents and struggled with his identity where he was in Warrnambool. He wasn’t allowed to play in sports teams or go in certain areas because of the colour of his skin. He lived with a white family on a mission. As he got older, he started up a co-op and a program at Deakin for Indigenous education. He’s been a leader for Indigenous people with bringing back culture, giving the Indigenous people a voice… he wrote a dictionary, to revive our language. But he goes about it all modestly, he’s not one of those in your face people. It made me really want to take up art and see if I can do even some of those things he has done, from a different platform.

Daisy: Can you tell me about the jellyfish? Tarryn: Waterways were really significant to live off for us… now, they are more sacred areas. Really important to look after. Dreamtime Stories come from that river, the Hopkins River. The jellyfish is one of my family members totem animals. Something to look after and care for. Daisy: What is a totem? Tarryn: My family totem is birds. When you’re born you get a specific totem animal. Mine is an Eastern longneck turtle which was given to me by my grandfather… given out Bush on ceremony. It’s related to your personality… I was given it to look after. Traditionally,

Interviewer: Jono Ta Interviewee: James McIntosh Jono: What compelled you to write this piece? James: It’s really a societal observation of how people are becoming more and more reliant on their phones and technology in making everyday life decisions. There’s kind of this illusion of knowledge across the general populace, because of the amount of information available at the touch of a button. A lot of people might seem like they’re smart and they know what they’re doing, but in reality, technology’s doing all the work. Jono: In this piece, you have artfully depicted the persona’s gradual descent into dependence on the MyChoice+. What did you do to achieve this? James: Well I’ve definitely been inspired by short stories, like fantasy ones where they travel into a deep dungeon. In those stories, over time things just deteriorate and go wrong, so I was kind of emulating that. I wanted to show that his mind was deteriorating. Jono: What is the significance, if any, of the dates of the entries? James: The jumps in time are to illustrate how the narrator becomes a different person. He becomes very focused and narrow-minded in what he says, and you can see over time that his life deteriorates in terms of his relationship with Julie. Time serves a pretty important function. It can also relate to how we, as a society, are becoming more and more reliant on technology as time goes by. Jono: In your view, does the ending describe a climax, or is it more ‘silent’ and bathetic? James: I think it’s both at the same time. In one sense, it’s horrific because there’s the question ‘is the child’s going to drown’ or ‘are they going to be saved’. In that sense, it’s very climactic. But then, in another sense, it’s also quite silent and almost insidious. It’s a very slow, soft ending; you could easily skim over it and

you wouldn’t really take in what’s happened. And this parallels the growing influence of the technology on his life over the course of the story - in both senses it’s very quiet. Jono: The narrator’s conversation with his wife, where Lyla directs him to change the subject struck me as a crucial moment. Bringing back happier memories mimicked, in my mind, the experience of taking drugs and addiction. Is there any allusion to that here? James: Yeah, that’s a good point. I needed to have a function that would turn the MyChoice+ from a tool which he just uses at work into something that permeates every aspect of his life, so you could easily compare that to the first time trying drugs. For him, it almost is a euphoric experience. And that’s the moment when he becomes addicted, because in his eyes, he’s being empowered. On that note, I wove in a lot of instances where, in his mind, he’s becoming empowered by wearing the device, just as we, as a society, think we’re getting empowered by having more technology. But at the end of the day, are we actually benefitting from this, or is it taking away our independence?

Interviewer: Jen Harrison Interviewee: Sara Watson Jen: Why do you use watercolour? Sara: I like watercolour because you can just blob it on the page and then when it dries it forms its own shape. It’s more free than drawing for me, because the colours do their own thing. Jen: Are there just abstract shapes in your painting or is it meant to be representative of something? Sara: It’s mostly abstract, but the shapes remind me of flowers. I think there is a natural element to it – I love nature. I also love texture and tiny details – when I go to an art gallery, I’ll go and stand super close to the paintings. And if I find a painting that I like and I want to capture it, I’ll take a really cropped, close up picture of a bit that I like, rather than the whole thing. That’s more interesting to me.

Interviewer: Sara Court Interviewee: Izzy Hollingdale Sara: How do you think the experience will differ for someone reading your lyrics here, almost as a poem, compared to someone who listens to the song? Or to take it a step further, is it more important to you that someone pay attention to the words or the melody? Izzy: Well in this particular song I think it sort of works better as a poem. It allows you the time to look into the lyrics. There is a lot of mirror imagery in this one which might go over peoples’ heads if they just listen to the song once. Especially because it isn’t too repetitive, so the lyrics are getting repeated enough to be emphasized. Like maybe if it was a pop song, you’d pay attention to the lyrics more because they’re repeated… but here, you really need to read them. Sara: You seem to express a frustration around the fact that ‘no one ever comes knocking’ to see more than just a superficial version of you – or rather, more than just your ‘skin’. To what extent do you feel that there is also an element of safety in that - keeping some parts of ourselves hidden? Izzy: I think due to the fact that this song was heavily inspired by Lily Dixon, there definitely is an element of safety in staying hidden, yeah. Lily really inspired me because when I was adding the final touches to this song, she came out to our school in a speech. But while in some circumstances it can seem easier to keep things concealed, at the same time it isn’t easier overall, because it’s hard not feeling authentic. Sara: You mention donning a ‘uniform’. What does a uniform represent in the context of your song? Izzy: So initially, I didn’t want to use the word uniform, because I thought it would just tie the song to a school context – but then, when it became more about Lily, I was happy to have that association. But the overall meaning was more about how nowadays, everyone sort of wants to look the same – so while we don’t wear a school uniform, it has been replaced with a ‘uniform’ of whatever’s current, whatever’s in fashion.

I was also playing with the idea of being malleable as well; being able to be shaped into something. Like at a private school – often you go in with so much originality… then you wear your uniform and you get shaped by that whole environment, and you come out of like a production line. You’re taught not to be different from the crowd. Sara: In your song ‘skin’ you emphasize the motif of sight, especially the gaze of others which is unable to see the ‘universe’ that lives within the singer. Yet in your artwork, the figure herself has her eyes are closed. Are both pieces expressive of a similar feeling? Izzy: So originally that drawing was just depicting the lyrics ‘the universe lives inside me’. But overtime I’ve started to see that girl as having her hands up because she’s afraid to speak. I mean that ties back to Lily right? She feels that she’s got so much inside her but is scared to speak out about it. The message is ‘come knocking. Be interested, and I’ll tell you’. And same with the song – the singer is exasperated with people’s lack of interest, because everyone’s just judging her exterior but making no effort with the interesting stuff. So I guess the symbolic elements of the drawing are the universe and the hands, rather than the eyes being closed. Although… Maybe the eyes being closed show that she’s just tired of everyone’s shit.

Interviewer: Blake Reilly Interviewee: Kayvan Gharbi Blake: Did a particular event of morality or immorality inspire the essay Why Should You Be Good? Kayvan: Morality has always been a topic that has both intrigued and confounded me – I have often wondered whether it is the artificial product of religious influence or alternatively some form of innate ‘natural law.’ This piece originated as a lazy rumination purely for my own amusement after someone held open an elevator for me, but eventually it formed into a somewhat fanciful conjecture attempting to apply an evolutionary lens to the metaphysical.

assume that role. Another issue with the question, is that there is no universally defined set of morals, but instead there exist general principles that underpin human interactions - potentially as a product of evolution. Instead of being ‘moral,’ I seek like most others to be guided by a sense of conscience, and while we will often fail and falter, as long as we continue to strive to do what is ‘right’ this is what is important.

Blake: Where is morality most absent in society? Kayvan: The obvious answer is within the finance, banking and business sectors, as it seems almost a paradox to be successful in business while actively upregulating one’s morality. To be perfectly honest, I am not proclaiming that morality should be practiced in these sectors, by many arguments it is rarely an advantageous force in such a setting. What I believe is truly concerning is the lack of morality we are beginning to see within political systems both at home and across the globe (for example, the Nauru crisis). Either the government is failing to represent the conscience of the people, or the people themselves are apathetic to their morals, with either case being rather worrying. I believe that this beautiful ability to have a conscience is something that we should actively seek to maintain and practice – it underpins the success of humans as social beings. Blake: Do you consider yourself a moral person? Kayvan: I do not believe any person can truly achieve the title of being ‘moral.’ It was conclusively proven in the Euthyphro Dilemma that no one body can be the source of morality and attain a stage of ‘absolute morality,’ and hence it follows directly that no single person can ever claim to

Interviewer: Cassie Deegan Interviewee: Priyansh Parekh Cassie: I feel as though poetry is so far removed from technology and the language we use online - what inspired you to write this poem about the dangers of technology? Pri: I wrote diskunekt after I’d been travelling - I was meeting a bunch of friends I hadn’t seen in a long time and everyone was snapping the whole event - every funny thing that happened, they snapped the food when it arrived, drinks, when we went on a walk. We were sitting down at a park and everyone was on their phones. That’s when I pulled out my phone and I started writing it – because I was like ‘I literally have nothing to do on my phone, so I’m just gonna record what I feel in this moment.’ Cassie: Where was the photo of the giraffe taken? Pri: I took that photo in Kenya. I saw those two giraffes touching their necks thought to myself ‘how cute they’re hugging’ – and everyone else turns to me and says ‘no, they’re fighting!’ I think that moment showed me that we try to impose so many false meanings onto nature. Cassie: Is there a specific photography subject that inspires you? Pri: I really like taking pictures of things that are run down. Most of what I see on the Internet is very clean and very modern. Or you know, clean things taken through a disposable camera to make it look old, or whatever. But I really like rundown things, because I look at it and say to myself ‘this can be fixed’. So I take a picture of it, and come back and think ‘how could I fix this if I was in charge of it’. Cassie: In terms of your poem ‘Diskunekt’, how do you think photography links into the dangers of technology? Can it be grouped with, say, cameras on a phone or even photos taken on snapchat? Pri: I think these days, for any moment we are in to feel

valid we feel the need to photograph it. That’s obviously hypocritical, but I think it’s become such a natural instinct for us to think that I was here because I have photos. Likes and followers take over, and we get all jumbled up inside. When you look at someone’s presence online, it’s a disruptive image of what someone’s life is actually like. You only see what people want to show you - you really don’t see what else is there.

Interviewer: Phoebe Edwards Interviewee: Sophie Goodin Phoebe: I love your alignment of the word ‘bark’ with the criticism of being a ‘bitch’ in Good Girls Don’t Bark. Do you think women are often encouraged to suppress their ‘bark’ or their opinions in order to be perceived as ‘good’? And do you think this is expected predominantly by males or by society in general? Sophie: Well, the reason I wrote the poem was because I noticed a strange contradiction in the way that I was being brought up. People, particularly my parents, we like, ‘assert yourself and be empowered as a woman’, but then, when I did assert myself and say my own opinion, they’d put me down for it. It’s almost like this superficial female empowerment movement which I feel is happening right now. All this false encouragement to stick up for yourself, but no one actually wanting to see that practised and society. And I don’t think it’s purely something that men do. I think it’s something that is deeply internalised in men and women. Even something that I have internalised as well. So, it’s not a purely male driven issue. Also, there’s a whole idea that we are being encouraged to speak up in an almost playful way. Like, ‘oh, give it your best shot’, but when we do it they’re not interested.

acute in its expression of fear, do you think this is a common human experience? Sophie: The thing is, I know I talk a lot about fear in the poem, but it’s not really a poem about fear. For me, it’s about the pervasive condition of anxiety and how it seeps into your day to day interactions, which is definitely an experience shared by many people. So yes, it can be considered as a metaphor for anxiety but also just for problems people face every day. The things they suppress that they want to deal with but they don’t know how to deal with.

Phoebe: In some lines of your second poem Hypersensitive, you interrupt the flow of your sentences by taking the last word of your sentence and moving it to the line below. For example, ‘breath will curl its fingers into the back of my / throat’. Is this indicative of the speaker’s thoughts perhaps being fractured by jolts of anxiety or fear? Sophie: Interestingly enough, that line which is cut at the end is not meant to happen, it’s just how the formatting worked out on the page. But now and again the formatting is meant to be a bit jaggared to give emphasis to certain words. For example,‘fear’ is placed alone in one line is more to mimic a sensation - like when everything drops - and the spacing of fear is to give emphasis to that sensation. Phoebe: Although Hypersensitive is highly vivid and

Interviewer: Daisy Moore Interviewee: Georgia Smith Daisy: What do you think is wrong with the representation of sexual violence in the media? Gee: Rape revenge - the way it’s often portrayed in the media - it’s exciting. It’s in thriller films. Presenting rape in that sense spectacularises rape. But how do you go about an authentic representation of rape? The series I walk about in my essay, Big Little Lies, was critically acclaimed for being a feminist narrative, but the depiction of rape was shocking, it wasn’t like watching gruesome violence. It was deeply disempowering as a viewer. Instead of showing and depicting it explicitly, maybe it’s better to insinuate. This takes away the affective relation. Daisy: What about the 2018 theme ‘legitimacy in understanding’ invited you to submit this piece? Gee: Rape and sexual violence is something I am passionate about - as a woman it is one of the biggest issues preventing equality. It’s not the responsibility of women to solve the issue, it’s not a first world problem. I wanted to bring back the subject to this passion. In light of the show having so much acclamation I wanted to present a slightly different view. Legitimacy in understanding was the perfect theme to present this view and implore people to engage with it.

Interviewer: Jono Ta Interviewee: Blake Reilly Jono: Did any particular current event or personal experience compel you to write on nationalism and national identity? Blake: Really it was the political climate at the moment. From all sides of politics you can see a struggle for identity claims; people trying to work out – in the global system and in their national system – who they are, what they want to represent, and what they want to change. Nationality comes into all this, because its our attempt at trying to define who we are as individuals within a community, city, country and then the world. The problem – and what really sparked my essay – is that nationality is typically assumed by appearance and determined hereditary claims. To combat some of the persistent problems present in the political climate I contend that we should expand nationality and define it by what political scholars call ‘creedal nationality’ – Francis Fukuyama wrote a great essay on it recently in Foreign Affairs. This form of nationality ultimately derives from cultural actions and values rather than your place of birth. Jono: The ‘three primary principles’ idea that define your new conception of national identity is very interesting. How did these particular concepts come to you?

Blake: With the fact that contemporary Australia is fundamentally a country founded on immigration, I think it’s very tricky. We have a history that goes back thousands and thousands of years, yet the climate we define ourselves by now is an inherited identity. Keeping that in mind, Australia – perhaps more than any other country in the world except for the US – can see the benefits and the complications of immigration. So I think that Australia is poised more than most countries to understand how having a diverse society with coherent values can be beneficial. In another sense, I think that Australia is quite interestingly geographically placed in the world. We’re located in the Asia-Indo-Pacific, except values-wise, we associate with elsewhere. We are sometimes referred to as the ‘bastion of liberal democracy in Asia’, and we are surrounded by competitive countries. When the growing powers such as China are largely considered undemocratic authoritarian regimes, people start to question what the future direction of the world might be. So I think, in terms of nationality, it really comes down to politics. If people are willing to engage in and defend our liberal democratic political processes and culture, I think that is the starting point. Really, where you should live comes down to the question of ‘are you going to contribute to your society?’

Blake: It came from trying to eliminate the exclusive and toxic elements of national identity. We view nationalism as unhealthy because it can be a very exclusionary: ‘you’re not born here, you’re not of this or that colour, therefore you can’t be from this nationality’ etc. Whereas, the three criteria that I suggested are inclusive: they can be engaged with, they can be learnt, they remove most of the barriers and therefore, nationalism becomes an inclusive concept. If you can identify with the values, if you can have an understanding of the national history, and if you can engage in the civic institutions, then your nationality reflects your identity. Jono: How would you apply those three principles to Australia’s particular cultural and national history to produce a more inclusive national identity?

Interviewer: Jen Harrison Interviewee: Daipayan Mukhopadhyay Jen: why did you choose to record yourself instead of submitting an essay, did you think that you would have more of an impact? Dai: Personally, I prefer writing speeches because I feel like I can get more across in my delivery of a speech than by written word. Jen: What was the main thing that you wanted to portray through your piece? Dai: I want people to get rid of that voice in their head saying you can’t ask a question or you can’t say something. Everyone has that option to ask ‘why?’, everyone has that ability. Jen: Do you think that we’ve lost that a bit, in our generation? Dai: I think as far as social media, as far as the humanitarian crisis, and as far as the portrayal of fake news in today’s society, I think it’s esspecially relevant for us as 18-21 year olds to engage with society and to know that it’s well within our rights to always ask ‘why?’ or ‘why not?’ I’ve also personally learnt the importance of such questions, because I’ve moved around a lot so each place has been a new challenge - you always have to know what’s going on around you. Before I do anything, I’ve learnt to ask myself; ‘how much do I know about what’s going on around me?’ Jen: Throughout the piece you pose lots of questions to the listener - why did you choose to put that responsibility on them instead of giving them an answer? Dai: It’s really due to the gravitas of the questions; no one can answer those kinds of questions, not at our age. And who can? Maybe politicians, maybe God? I just wanted people to start a conversation themselves; to give them a starting point. I think if you want to get anything done in our society, then it’s so important to converse with people and ask

questions and esspecially to be ok with being proven wrong.

Interviewer: Sara Court Interviewee: Anonymous (a) Sara: Your line drawing is evocative of a character. Did you visualize this character before you started drawing, or do you just lay down lines and let the inspiration take you somewhere as you go? Anon: Definitely the later one. Often when I’m drawing I have no idea where I’m going, but I’ll just try and make it quite fluid and see where it goes. When I started drawing, I used to think I always had to know exactly what I was drawing before I started, but as I’ve sort of just kept playing with it, these days I like just seeing what comes. Sara: Every line in the drawing is emphatically curved. Is this a theme in your other works? Are you drawn to curved lines because of a particular feeling that they evoke? Anon: I would not say that’s my standard style - some of my other stuff is completely straight, which turn out more cartoony, where as the curved ones are more abstract. The style of the line certainly contributes to the atmosphere that the drawing gives off - here, the curves in the body make it less concrete and more a figment of my imagination. Sara: You’ve decided to remain anonymous – why, and to what extent does this tie into why you create? Anon: I sort of just like drawing, and making stuff in general, because it’s a way of getting something that’s in my head out - and I don’t really need to do that for other people. I actually prefer people not knowing, because then I can focus on the simplicity of making something rather than worrying about perception.

Interviewer: Phoebe Edwards Interviewee: Ruby Smith Phoebe: Do you have a preference between poetry and song writing?

it make it more painful in its vividness? Ruby: It’s like listening to sad music when you’re sad. It makes you more sad in the immediate present but then it’s easier to deal with later. When I’m feeling a really strong emotion, all that emotion will go into a poem, and then when I go back to it later I can approach it in a more rational way. I’m able to gain a bit more perspective because I’m able to remember how strongly I felt.

Ruby: It depends on the subject matter. Recently I wrote a poem using a – this is really dark – but using a fascination with the Vietnam War as a way to express my love for my dad, because he was in the Vietnam War. I would definitely use poetry for something like that because its more research based. I think with poems, there’s often a reason why I’m writing it as a poem. It will flow more quickly because I’ve got a whole pile of stuff in my head that just comes out. Whereas, Phoebe: In Glass, what was the motive behind the songs you have to think more about the rhythm and the layout of the lines? rhyme. Ruby: I was playing around with the sense of fragmenPhoebe: Do you tend to write your poetry/lyrics when tation, as if something was broken. Because I don’t you’re fully immersed in the emotion or do you preremember crying in the dream. But it felt distressed and fer writing from a more objective headspace? Like… fragmented and I didn’t understand what was happenwriting in the calm waters of retrospect or in the full ing. Which is sort of what I tried to replicate. whirlwind of the present? Ruby: I mean it sounds good to say that I write it in the moment, but I really don’t. Sometimes, very occasionally, I’ll write it in the moment, but that’s always shit. I’ll look back – normally it’s when I’ve had the intense emotion and I’m in the emotional come down stage and you’re really flat and you’re not really happy again but you’re, like, flattened out. So, I’ve written songs about mental health and it’s always been after the event, and always quite objective. Phoebe: That makes sense. Okay, is Glass inspired by a real dream? Ruby: Yeah it is… and I feel really bad because maybe that takes away from its power as a metaphor. I write a lot about dreams because I often have really messed up dreams. They feel very real – even talking about it now, I can remember the feeling of having little bits of glass in my throat. Phoebe: And, does writing from real experiences help to process and understand such experiences? Or does

Interviewer: Blake Reilly Interviewee: Oscar Yencken Blake: Why did you choose the university as the subject of your sketches? Oscar: The aim of the project was to explore how people move throughout the campus. It was interesting to see which way people went and whether people generally preferred a scenic route or the fastest route. Blake: From a design perspective, how could the university be improved as a space? Oscar: I think that routes to The Spot from Swanston street could be improved. Especially because it is always busy, and most people go there but I have never spoken to someone that has been excited about going to The Spot. Blake: If you could knock down one building on campus, which would it be? Oscar: I would get rid of the big blocky Redmond Barry building for just being generally annoying.

Interviewer: Cassie Deegan Interviewee: Danielle Clinton Cassie: The subjects you paint are so diverse, is there a theme or anything else that bind them all together? Dani: I tend to focus mainly on life drawing of portraits and figures, and with a particular focus on projecting different lighting onto the subjects. Cassie: Your work is beautifully detailed. What is your process like? Dani: I always start with a basic sketch and work from the eyes onwards. I can never finish a piece in any one sitting, it is a matter of time and culmination of multiple attempts and layers of colour. Whenever I paint or draw, I get so lost in the moment that the emotions and stresses of everyday life dissipate with every brushstroke. Cassie: The way you portray skin tone is really intricate, is that something you want to be a focal point of your work? Dani: When I paint portraits, my favourite source is the local African people at home. Their skin tone provides a variety of different colours to work with which allows one to explore beyond the typical browns and beiges and delve deeper into the rich undertones of reds, blues and ochre-yellows. The style that I often adopt involves painting in abstract shapes according to the colours formed within the face, eventually forming a coherent whole.

Interviewer: Jono Ta Interviewee: Sophie Newnham Jono:If not you, then whom – or what – is Cheryl a reflection of in your piece? Sophie: It’s certainly not me – I don’t want anyone to think it’s me. She’s nobody in particular, just a downto-earth girl who the readers can relate to. I just wanted to portray a funny voice - I didn’t want to write anything serious. JT: Do you think the features of Cheryl’s life which you expound applies also to the character of our generation as a whole? SN: Yeah, I’d say. Definitely. Our generation is travelling a lot, figuring out our lives right now, just passing uni, absolutely. JT: The piece ends in a recognition of the privileges which Cheryl enjoys, but then further invokes expectation for ‘even better’ life in Summer. Does this ultimate expectation allude to anything in particular? SN: No, that’s purely my hatred for Melbourne Winter. I just don’t like the cold. I didn’t intend for it to allude to anything, but if that’s what people pick up, then happy days.

Interviewer: Jen Harrison Interviewee: Archie Roberts Jen: Ok so, do you think people are defined by their relationships that they have with others? In this case, a dog/human relationship- can they have a meaningful existence without one another? Archie: I think you can have a meaningful existence by yourself and I do not think other people define you. But it’s like an addition, it’s like …. if you had a pavlova, all that extra good stuff that goes on top - like passion fruit, kiwi fruit - it makes it better but if you take that away it’s still a pavlova. Does that make sense? Jen: Yes, so relationships with others can enhance a person but they don’t define a person? Archie: Correct. And there’s that line I’ve written behind the man’s face - ‘I exist but I do not co-exist’. Jen: At the start you have written ‘I don’t know what a dog is, I don’t know what I am. If I did I would have something in my head, which I do not’. Then, the final line is ‘for I am nothing except something, something called a dog’. What were you exploring here? Archie: It’s about how he and the dog are both just animals, and he understands that being a human doesn’t make him special or give him a unique purpose – his purpose is the same as that of a dog, or that of a slug, or even that of a rock… which is no purpose. So that final line is him recognising that his importance is on the same level of importance as a dog – they’re equivalent. In simple terms, he is the same amount of something as rock is, and a dog, and a slug, and they’re all nothing. Jen: On one drawing there’s a shape that looks a bit like the letter M, but you’ve written ‘not an ‘M’’. Why did you feel like this was necessary? Archie: Well that shape wasn’t supposed to be anything – it was just a shape. But someone came up to me and said ‘that looks like an M’. I didn’t want anyone else thinking it was an M and reading into it, or getting the wrong idea. Also on that note - I would like to make

it abundantly clear that none of these artworks were drawn together as part of a series… A lot of people have gotten the wrong idea about that, too. Jen: The writing in the first image seems to portray the notion that we often try to put too much meaning onto things, so do you think this whole interviewing process is superfluous then? Archie: No, because it means that I can articulate that I don’t put meaning onto it. I can clear the water. I don’t want people to overthink my work. Everything I have drawn is just a direct link from the brain to my hand rather than thinking about it first.

Interviewer: Sara Court Interviewee: Joseph Carbone Sara: Your title may remind readers of the US city of Compton, which is known for its rival gangs and violence. To what extent are the thoughts of the writer in conflict with themselves? Joseph: Well to start with some background on the title, the two main gangs in Compton are the Bloods and the Crips, and they’re rivals. So, since the Bloods hate the Crips, they replace the first letter of words that start with C with a B. Milk and cookies equals ‘milk and bookies’ and so Compton becomes ‘Bompton’. It’s a cool use of language to express what is usually such a violent conflict. And in terms of whether the thoughts of the writer are in conflict? VERY. That’s my answer. VERY. Sara: Every line in the poem begins with the letter B. Does the ‘B’ sound have a particular significance to you, other than how it’s used by the Bloods? Joseph: I think it’s very stutter-y… b-b-b-b. You know? It comes from the front of the mouth, instead of like a ‘t’ sound… and also B is the start of the word ‘but’, which is the ultimate stutter. Really the whole piece is about stuttering.

is a pessimistic ending, or is it the opposite? Joseph: I think it can be viewed both ways, so it’s up to the reader. Of course, there’s the more literal, ‘oh the sun’s gonna blow up, nothing means anything sad sad’ interpretation… but there’s also the ‘so lets do whatever the fuck we want’ which is very liberating. And if that’s the kind of life you want to lead, then that’s pretty optimistic. For example, I’m watching Big Mouth on Netflix at the moment, and there’s this character called the Shame Wizard who haunts all the kids while they’re going through puberty. He makes all the kids feel really bad about stuff that they’re doing even though it’s natural. But at the end they all band together and tell the Shame Wizard to fuck off back home, and without that shame they go on this wild debaucherous night… and it looks like fun. But, it has its negative consequences for the characters, as it inevitably would. So maybe a bit of shame’s good! Keeps us in line. Sara: The poem draws upon religious references to ‘God’ and ‘praying’ yet seems to offer a defeatist ending. Was this intentional? Joseph: Ah – that one I’ll let the reader decide.

Sara: Why is the writer stuttering? Joseph: Because they’re a dumbass! Sara: Your poem has visual elements to it as well – for instance when you mention anchoring to the chair, the words literally form an anchor on the page. What does an anchor embody in the context of the poem? Joseph: Okay so my idea, and this might be taking it too literally, is that the writer is going through a meditation. And anchoring is part of that meditation. The breathing technique, and literally just feeling the gravity, being in your chair. Sara: The poem is concluded with the line ‘because the sun’s just gonna eat us up one day.’ Would you say this

Interviewer: Phoebe Edwards Interviewee: Will Carr Phoebe: Other than to allude to Adelia’s deafness, did you have any other motive for excluding dialogue from your script? And, did you come across any challenges when writing without dialogue? Will: I find that one of the easiest ways to get into a creative space is to actually have some sort of light restriction, particularly when you don’t get a prompt. Obviously nothing really restrictive like… ‘don’t use the letter ‘e’’, but giving yourself a fake rule… so you have a starting point, rather than just constructing a piece out of nowhere. So the exclusion of dialogue actually made the creative process easier, in terms of coming up with the idea. The reason it was harder was because each page in a screenplay is meant to equal a minute screen time - so, as there was no dialogue I had to include a lot of other language so that it still ran at the same speed. In saying that, it then also allowed me a descriptive freedom that not a lot of scripts get because often most of the page is taken up by dialogue. Phoebe: Your piece seems very thoughtfully constructed. How did you go about its construction? Will: The ending was the last thing I wrote - In fact, I wasn’t sure what was going to happen until I’d written it. Originally, there were no flashback scenes, but while writing I realised that there was no way that I could artfully explore the history without showing something from it. And then, when I’d realised that, I knew that I couldn’t just have one flashback in a piece like this. So, then it became an interwoven story between two time periods. This then made the ending a lot easier with the meeting of the two moments in time. I saw the structure finally as a circle, because its drawing the two ends of her life together in one moment.

Interviewer: Jono Ta Interviewee: Anonymous (b) Jono: Are the people depicted based on anyone in particular? Anonymous: Not exactly – I guess, to an extent they reflect me, but I’m not drawing myself. More as in ‘I’m drawing someone going through the same thing as me.’ Jono: Do you associate any experience or feeling with these drawings? Anonymous: The reason that I draw – and, this is why I wanted it to be anonymous as well – is because I don’t draw to be a good drawer, and I don’t draw for other people to see it. I draw when I’m in a really bad headspace and I just need to release that. The whole process of drawing for me is kind of an emotional release. It’s a form of catharsis. Jono: As the artist, what significance do you draw from the juxtaposition of these pieces, if any? Anonymous: I guess they’re different stages of grief. The one on the left is someone freaking out, and the other one is that calmer stage of grief – when everything’s internalised, and you manage to bottle it up… but in bottling it up you also isolate yourself. In another sense, the picture on the right is what you may see on the outside, and the other is how she’d be feeling on the inside. As an observer, you often have no idea what’s going on inside someone else.

Interviewer: Daisy Moore Interviewee: Jono Ta. Daisy: The boundaries between reason and absurdity cannot be easily rewritten – should we attempt to rewrite them? Jono: I think we should definitely try to rewrite them. I think that’s the only way society can change in a progressive way. Daisy: What would it be to live in a world without absurdity? Jono: I think the first thing that would strike you would be how boring it would be. Absurdity marks out the extraordinary. It almost offers us an escape out of the mundane. The second thing which I argue is that we would lose a really good lens to critically analyse the world. And with that - the ability to spread issues which are important, to focus on issues which need focus, and to be able to empathise with other perspectives. Daisy: What inspired you to write this piece? Jono: I wrote this piece in response to this year’s theme for the Bulpadok - but there were two reasons why I chose to explore the lens of absurdity. The first was to make an observation that things that seem silly on the surface are often taken as inane or fanciful and disregarded. But even trash tv shows shine a light on the creator’s view of the world. Secondly, I wanted to respond to people who dismiss - with a sinister intention or otherwise - other people’s culture as silly or absurd. Modern day manifestations lead to profound and culturally meaningful aspects of those people.

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The End.

Address to the College.

Campbell Bairstow. Dean & Deputy Warden.

Valedictory dinner - Friday 12th October 2018

A prayer of thanks and hope for our leavers Thank you for the paint you have splashed on the canvas that is Trinity College, and all the imagination and daring in the colours you have chosen, and the intriguing brushstrokes both broad and delicate. Thank you for your intellectual rigour and your public contest of ideas and of unthinking prejudice. Thank you for teaching and nurturing your fellows, and for the hours spent in collaborative endeavour, that rich river of learning that flows across the Bulpadok. Thank you for the beauty and intrigue of your music, the conviction of your acting and stagecraft, and the soaring quality of your oratory. For rhinoceroses, tigers, and angels in the Chapel, all wrapped splendidly in candystripes. Thank you for your athletic endeavour and success, for your sense of fair play, and for cheering on Trinity teams at all hours. For those hours at Prinny and the bleary mornings at the Sports Centre. Thank you for the deep commitment to each other, to your community, and to inclusion and tolerance. And thanks for all the fun we have had together and the abiding echoes of laughter and innocent, undiluted joy that ripple through the cafĂŠ and dining hall all day long. Thank you for your deep commitment to those less fortunate than us; for encouraging and caring for those new to our country, for inspiring those for whom learning can be a struggle or for whom life is just plain tough. So, my friends, if Gate B beckons for one final time in the next few weeks, as it will indeed for the Bear and Jill, we hope that the richness of our shared lives here together will be a wonderful foundation for your life. We hope that your years spent on the traditional lands of the Wurundjeri people, that have never been ceded, has made you an activist in the national challenge of seeing and celebrating the gift of 60,000 years of civilization. We hope that Trinityâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s liberal spirit and commitment to justice and opportunity, inspired by our Anglican heritage, will guide your citizenship and morality, forever. We hope that the majesty and strength of the College oak will stand by you in all the seasons of the years ahead, and give you confidence that occasional winters of the soul will be followed by sunshine and new growth. We know that you will stay close to each other, and we hope you will stay close to Trinity too. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s a special place, which you have loved and nurtured, and which in turn has seen you grow and prosper in so many important ways. Now we must always be its faithful guardians. Tiger woo

BIBLIOGRAPHY BIBLIOGRAPHY GEORGIA SMITH: The Politics of Representation - Depicting Sexual Violence on Screen. Brownmiller, S 1991, Against Our Will: Men, Women and Rape, Penguin, London. First published in 1975. Cuklanz, L 2000, Rape On Prime Time: Television, Masculinity, And Sexual Violence, University of Pennsylvania Press, Philadelphia. Ellis, J 1982, Visible Fictions, Routledge & Keagan Paul, London. Hockett, J.M, Saucier, D.A & Badke, C 2016, ‘Rape Myths, Rape Scripts, and Common Rape Experiences of College Women: Differences in Perceptions of Women Who Have Been Raped’, Violence Against Women, vol. 22, no. 3, pp. 307-323. Horeck, T 2004, Public Rape: Representing Violation in Fiction and Film, Routledge, London. Lehman, P 1993, ‘Don’t Blame This on a Girl: Female Rape-Revenge Films’, in S Cohan, & IR Hark (eds) Screening the Male: Exploring Masculinities In Hollywood Cinema, Routledge, London. MacKinnon, C 1989, ‘Sex and Violence: A Perspective’, Feminism Unmodified, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, MA, pp. 85-92. Mulvey, L 1992, ‘Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema’ in M Mereck (ed) The Sexual Subject: A Screen Reader in Sexuality, Routledge, London, pp. 22- 34. Phillips, L 2000, Flirting With Danger: Young Women’s Reflections On Sexuality And Domination, New York University Press, New York. Pisters, P 2003, The Matrix of Visual Culture: Working with Deleuze in Film Theory, Stanford University Press, Stanford. Ryan, K 2011, ‘The Relationship Between Rape Myths and Sexual Scripts: The Social Construction of Rape’, Sex Roles, vol. 65, no. 11-12, pp.774-782. Young, A 2010, The Scene of Violence: Cinema, Crime, Affect, Routledge, London. Television series: Big Little Lies 2017, television series, HBO, Los Angeles.

Cover design by Sara Court.