Acting Out – legitimising young peoples use of public space

We’d had a tough time with this applied theatre project. In our first three weeks we went to the actual space once and even then we’d had to relocate due to rain. It’s a downfall of trying to use public space for a project, because you’re at the mercy of the weather, and in Brisbane that means taking it one day at a time due to the unpredictable nature of our weather.

Last Friday it was a sunny day, we’d had a good workshop the week before (despite low numbers of participants) and I had met up with the two other theatre facilitators and planned out the whole workshop comprehensively. We’d even taken into account what people may or may not want to do. Our hopes were up and we were happy to be working.

An accident on our way to the park changed that momentarily. We had to stop, check that everyone was OK and make sure insurance information was exchanged. Back in the car one of the youth workers made a passing comment about how perhaps the drama stuff would not be engaging the first few times. I was even more motivated to make it work.

There were cyclists at the park. In our space, which we’d booked and got confirmation about more than a week before. People started to half-joke that the project was cursed. Now, I must admit I do hold a few superstitions when it comes to theatre, like not saying “good luck” or using the eponymous M-word from a Shakespeare play while in a theatre. However, I was not having any of these “cursed” jokes and argued we were being challenged and had to step up to the task.

There were about fourteen young people who came along. Most, it seems, live in shelters and sometimes sleep outside. The majority of them were male, which actually balanced out quite well because most of the youth workers and facilitators are women.

Another set-back, the wonderful police officers doing drumming as part of the project couldn’t make it. But we had our drama plan and once the cyclists had moved on we jumped straight in with high energy games. Almost every thing we did got a good response from them, and the dull, proper park was suddenly transformed into an atmosphere of fun and activity. People walking past sometimes stopped to see what was going on and the interest seemed to be mostly positive.

Young people, particularly those at risk of homelessness, have few options in a city like Brisbane. The constant city shift towards commodities means that public space itself is becoming a bit like a commodity in the central business districts. Business people who see young people hanging around often seem to feel uncomfortable, or look down on the situation even if nothing is going on. To be able to counter these negative assumptions is a great challenge. To be able to engage these young people is an even better reward.

Cities need to wake up to their communities. Marginalising people is not, and never will be, a solution. Engaging them and working towards solving the problems they face is a step in the right direction. I believe it’s a step we need to take.

Journalism in Australia – young people and the future

In this day and age it’s hard not to engage with journalism on some level. It’s in news agencies, on TV, radio and the internet, and with the development of globalisation it’s becoming even more important to engage with journalism on some level. So what is journalism like at the moment, and how could it change in the near future in Australia?

The answer’s not simple, and in an (arguably) postmodern world, everyone’s perception of the media is different. But there are certain views emerging which I feel the need to comment on. As someone who has both learnt about and practised journalism, it’s important to engage in the current perspectives on this industry, and to develop theories relevant to the individual’s experiences. Some of the views being thrown around at the moment seem to me particularly cynical.

One view which springs to mind is that young people are engaging with journalism more and more through new media, and ignoring the traditional formats. As a young person, I regularly go to networking sites like Myspace, online news providers like Google News (Australia), ABC Online, BBC Online and LiveNews.com.au. However, I also listen to ABC News Radio and ABC Radio National, watch ABC and Seven News regularly, as well as the occasional current affairs show, and read The Sydney Morning Herald, The Australian, local community-based newspapers and, sometimes, The Courier Mail. I admit it’s a lot of news, and not every young person may engage with the media as much, but the idea of young people accessing news from predominantly online sources seems ridiculous to me.

The internet is some fifteen years older, younger than the “young people” I am guessing these assumptions are aimed at, and as such it is still a relatively new platform for journalism. When something is new there tends to be more room for errors, exploration and trial-and-error processes. Some news websites have enabled user-generated content (UGC) by encouraging their audience to submit story ideas and media like photographs, audio or video and allowing comments on the content of the site. Some do so more than others, but in general UGC makes online journalism more involving for the public. Young people seem to enjoy being involved in the experience, so I assume that’s where this view stems from.

Having said that, a lot of the sites I visit have comments clearly left by people older than these “young people” talked about. The internet is a non-discriminatory format anyone can engage with, and to make the generalisation that young people get most of their news and information online is limiting how young people are perceived.

Most of the young people I know believe credible journalism is predominant in traditional forms of news like newspapers, radio and television. Online journalism has the potential to combine elements from all three of these forms, but it doesn’t seem to be quite there yet (at least not in a broad sense). It’s fast developing, but that doesn’t mean the other forms will die out just yet.

I was watching the ABC show Q&A (episode 15) last week, and heard the federal Minister for Small Business Craig Emerson voice an opinion of current media forms and new media forms which is similar to what I believe.

“Don’t write off the traditional media,” he says, “People were writing off newspapers a decade ago and newspapers are still, notwithstanding these current problems, are still going pretty strongly. I think it’s just a changing world.” (Craig Emerson, Q&A, Episode 15, 28/08/08, ABC1)

It is a changing world, but I think there’s a place in it for all forms of media. I find, in particular, the idea that newspapers are a dying breed, to be cynical and narrow-minded in substance. It may seem that way at first glance, with most major newspapers in Australia getting lower circulation numbers than in the past, but to say newspapers will die out is not seeing the rest of the picture. People still buy newspapers. Why, if the internet has the same articles for free? Or if the TV and radio news get stories before papers go to print?

I think it’s because of the experience. Reading a newspaper is different to reading news online, or seeing or hearing it. I don’t buy papers every day, but I make a point of buying at least one on the weekend, and usually two or three during the week. I like reading newspapers because they seem to have a depth to them that other forms of journalism don’t.

On the other hand, I like listening to radio news because of the immediacy of it, because it’s current and relevant and engaging in a way reading isn’t. Television is different again, with sound and images as well as a script, and I like to watch the news to see how things have happened. Online can be all three, and that makes it amazingly versatile. But there are aspects of each form which can’t are mutually exclusive to other forms, which means all sources of journalism will probably be around so long as the experience is enjoyed.

There’s also other benefits I can see from having different sources of journalism. In Australia, the media ownership is concentrated between a few organisations, which many believe has led to a lack of diversity of opinion in the media. I would argue that the diversity of formats for journalism means there is diversity in the opinions presented. News providers may be owned by one overarching organisation, but the people involved in online will be different to the people involved in television or print or radio, which means the news will differ between formats regardless of ownership. It may not be ideal, but it is at least providing some diversity.

While the future of journalism may be indeterminate, intangible or indefinable, I think we can all too easily assume one outcome without looking at other possibilities. Our own judgements define what we see as the future, but it’s important to look at other opinions and keep an open mind. Without that, what else is there?

Creative Community

The bello bridge...an icon of my hometown

Brisbane's Brunswick Street Mall

I was tired, stressed and running late for my Monday morning meeting, walking brusquely through Fortitude Valley’s Brunswick St Mall when the pedestrian light changed to red. Instead of scowling or huffing in frustration, a smile came to my face. I wasn’t running late to a job I didn’t want to be at, or to the impending university lecture where I was to be assessed on a presentation I’d barely planned, I was going to something more important to me.

One of the things I love about drama is being able to tell stories. The other thing I love is being able to give something back to the community in a creative way. It’s fun, and seeing others have fun is part of what keeps me going. The project I’m working on now, the one I was running late for yesterday, will involve me and two others improvising and facilitating drama games for a specific community in the city. I was smiling because I felt as though the meeting I was about to enter would be challenging and fun. It ended up being a lot of work (there’s the challenge), but talking to everyone involved was a lot of fun.

Yesterday afternoon I met with a 17 year old girl who is involved in several volunteer community organisations, studying at university full time, and president of an organisation she founded for like-minded young people who want to help the world. The organisation was created late last year and is already developing a project with the State Library of Queensland to get a mobile book library for the Indonesian city of Depok. I’d never met this girl before but we got along instantly, connected by our similar interest in communities.

One thing I’ve learnt from growing up in a small town, and doing drama work with community groups, is that engaging with people from difference communities is a positive thing to do, but one which can often be overlooked. I used to know the names and phone numbers of my neighbours. Now, living in the city, I only know my neighbours as The Woman Who Talks Really Loudly On the Phone Right Outside My Window and The Family Including Someone Who Plays the Flute Loudly at Night. While I don’t really mind not knowing my neighbours, it’s disappointing that the neighbourhood community seems so disconnected.

The community work I engage in, and the people I meet through it, are all really friendly, creative people and I think that’s what makes the organisation so enjoyable. It could be like any other job – doing assignments, reporting back to people, discussing fees and budgets and resources – but it’s also a social activity. The reason I enjoy my classes at uni so much is because everyone gets along and knows each other well. The reason I volunteer to work at open days, or be a student mentor or any thing else for uni, is because I get on with the people I end up working with. And the reason I do drama projects in my own time, and have a passion for it, is because everyone is so easy to get along with.

When I compare these groups and activities with my current neighbourhood, one question arises: all around us are communities, but how often do we realise it, and actually engage with them?

Thanks, but I don’t trust you

Money or trust - what's worth more to you?

I was walking through the parking lot on my way home, laden with badly packed plastic bags that could have broken any minute, when I saw someone’s wallet sitting in the middle of a parking space. There were a few people around, mainly shoppers and a group of school-aged boys hanging outside a fish and chip shop right near me and the wallet. I couldn’t leave it sitting there out in the open because eventually someone might come along and figure they’d scored big. So I picked it up and took it to the fish and chip place, letting them know I’d found it and wasn’t sure what else to do with it. The guy thanked me and I went on my way.

Walking home I started thinking about the time I lost my own wallet a couple of years ago. It had fallen out of my pocket and I never saw it again. Luckily there’d only been $20 in it, so I didn’t lose much cash, but losing all my cards made me realise how important the things you keep with your money can be. I would have preferred to lose more money and keep my cards in the end because it was such a hassle to organise new ones. But I learnt my lesson and I’m constantly aware of where my wallet is these days, and if I see anything that looks like it’s been lost I make sure I do something about it.

The one I picked up was a lot thicker than mine has ever been. I don’t know what the person kept in there, I didn’t look because it felt invasive. Perhaps I should have looked anyway.

While I was in my reverie of wallet losses and life lessons that lead to good actions, a car pulled up in front of me. The driver wound down the passenger window and called out.

“Excuse me,” the man driving said looking directly at me, “did you pick up my wallet in the car park?”

“Yes, I did. I gave it to the fish and chip place because I didn’t want it to be outside. They should have it.”

He nodded impatiently, giving me the impression that he’d already gone and got it. “There was a lot of money in it before.”

“And it’s not in there now?” I asked, trying to figure out what he was really saying. I hoped he wasn’t accusing me. He just stared back at me, confirming my concern.

“Look, you can ask the boys down there if you want, but all I did was pick it up and take it to the nearest shop,” I told him, upset that he would think as much.

He muttered something under his breath, begrudgingly thanked me and drove off.

Normally I would be happy with a thanks for doing something nice, but this time the thanks was secondary to the lack of trust this guy had. Did I seriously look like someone who would steal money from a stray wallet? Why would I bother when there’d been so many people around who would have seen me doing it? And if I had decided I wanted the money, wouldn’t it have been easier to just take the whole package and leave?

I don’t know where his money went, but I was offended by the way he approached me. The car slowing down as I walked, then stopping a bit ahead of me was intimidating enough, but then his manner reeked of distrust too. The thanks wasn’t what it sounded like, it was a way of letting me know I was off the hook, that he didn’t think I’d taken the money after all, but still wasn’t happy with my actions.

If I did it over, I would still take the wallet into the shop. He could have lost his credit card, license and everything else if I hadn’t taken it somewhere more secure. But that didn’t seem to matter to this guy, it was the money he was concerned about and he was willing to accuse anyone of taking it. What really matters in life? A nice gesture, or money? Genuine concern for a stranger, or money? Helping a stranger, or money? Apparently this guy favoured the latter of all three. There wasn’t anything else I could have done, I have my own responsibilities to deal with and I wasn’t going to play guard dog for someone who might have taken hours to realise they’d lost their precious money.

In this instance, the thanks was like a slap in the face, telling me trust and good intentions can be overruled by the valued placed on money.

The Cement Garden by Ian McEwan

There is something so compelling about exploring the human condition and looking at how certain people in certain social environments will react to any given stimuli. In the case of The Cement Garden, I found it fascinating to look at the workings of a close-knit, somewhat socially skewed family. The story follows the thoughts of Jack, a teenager struggling within his adolescence.

After his father’s death, Jack, his two sisters and younger brother live with their mother in an isolated development area. Jack is in the midst of struggling with a crush on his eldest sister when their mother is taken ill. And when she dies, the children panic, knowing the eldest, Julia, is too young to look after them, and fearing they would be separated. To avoid this destruction of their family, Jack and his two sisters decide to keep their mother’s death a secret, burying her in cement in their basement.

Before reading this I was familiar with some of the themes presented when my sister brought it up – she did a presentation on it and discussed how McEwan used the idea of “taboos”. Taboo is a significant element and some of the content is more shocking and confronting because of the way McEwan subverts social taboos. In particular the relationship between Jack and his eldest sister, Julie, is quite a disturbing constant throughout the book. Jack is fascinated by Julie, almost to the point of obsession, and for a lot of the book I was unsure of where Julie stood with the situation. The ending wasn’t entirely surprising, but it wasn’t something I expected or was familiar with either. But their relationship was as compelling to read about as it was confronting.

There is something engaging about the disturbing content of The Cement Garden which I haven’t often found in books. The thoughts and events are sometimes not conventional or even socially acceptable, but the combination of breaking down taboos and McEwan’s sharp writing engaged me in a way I didn’t expect. At times I would find myself cringing when I read of Jack admiring Julie during the long summer when most of the narrative takes place, but then, because the characters are so well drawn, I would question why I was cringing. Why are these things considered socially unacceptable, taboo, strange or disturbing? Who has imposed those values on society? And why do we often take them for granted, not even thinking about what would happen if a taboo was broken?

The Cement Garden was a confronting, thought-provoking read which left me with some speculative questions about socially constructed norms. The characters were real enough, and likeable enough that I empathised with their situations, and that in turn made the breaking of taboos more challenging to deal with. In the end, people may say we are a product of our society, and possibly most of us are, but there is a multitude of things which will affect the way we act, the way we think and the rules we break.

culture

The sunburnt country

Have you ever heard that joke? The one about Australian culture? It goes something like this:

Q: What’s the difference between an Australian and a tub of yoghurt?
A: The yoghurt has culture.

Not a very good joke, admittedly, but it raises a point I’ve been thinking about quite a bit recently. Part of it relates to the subjectiveness of definitions of culture (what is culture, after all?), but more is about the relationships individuals have with their society, specifically their country of residence (to avoid going off on tangents of multicultural families and individuals). And also how our culture might be represented in popular media forms.

I recently read an article in the Sydney Morning Herald about Australian actress Leah Vandenberg, who’s cultural heritage is vast and very much representative of the Australia I’m glad to be a part of (the diverse one). Vandenberg talks about how difficult it has been to get work with her darker skin, brown hair and brown eyes. She uses the term “blondist”, and while admittedly this is not quite as dominating as it once was, most local shows’ casting doesn’t reflect the Australian-ness I like to identify with. SBS is arguably the best at capturing what it is to be Australian, with shows like East West 101, but what about the other channels?

I was working on a film last weekend and one of the other actors there and I got talking about it. He wasn’t your stereotypical surfie Australian bloke, and he said it was hard to get cast because of that. I find it disgusting, because I could see he was a good actor, very committed to capturing and expressing the atmosphere of the movie we were working on. And I think he had a good look for film and tv. So I have to ask: why white? Why is it usually the “token” characters who obviously have a less anglocentric background?

The bigger issue here is our culture. What is it to be Australian? What does it mean? If someone were to ask, “what is your culture like?”, how would you (how could you) describe it?

I think it’s the indefinable nature of “culture” that causes some of these issues. We all have our own definition of what it is, and perhaps we don’t think about it enough. It seems all too often we talk about Australia’s “lack of culture”. I think we have culture, but whether or not everyone realises and accepts what that culture is might be another question.

This morning I read about the “white flight” occurring in NSW schools where white Australian’s have been leaving public schools which are more multicultural than the private or specialised schools. Is this really happening? Why?

I don’t often like to use the word racism, but that’s what it sounds like. The issue may be more complicated than that, but somewhere in there that word is floating around. And I wonder, do Australians talk about a “lack of culture” because we can’t agree on what it is to be Australian? Some might say it is multicultural, that you can’t stereotype an Australian by appearance because we are becoming more and more diverse; others would say it is the white Australian which defines our culture. Without a common ground perhaps the opposing opinions create a non-culture that leaves us all a bit lost.

The Dieing Language

Over the weekend I like to read newspapers. I perused three between Saturday and Sunday of the weekend just passed. And I was disappointed by the (mis)use of language I found.

People saying “a historic shift”, when “an” is the correct word, changing tense halfway through, as in “the journalist was sitting at his desk when he used the wrong word, but it would be weeks before he realises the mistake” and simply using the wrong words or misspelling things. It may seem petty to you, but many people read newspapers and, as published writers, journalists have a responsibility to check their spelling and grammar. They should, in theory, set a good example for us all.

That is, of course, unless we want to forget the joys of good grammar and spelling. We could all start writing about how it is hard labor to write good and that it is a specialized skill these days. “U dont need good word skills to talk or right”, we might say. And some will agree with that, but I do not.

Simple mistakes are ok, everyone makes them. I constantly have to go through everything I write to check for mistyped words, poor grammar or bad syntax. But I do actually check, and I think that’s part of the problem.

The Australian Labor (note the lack of a “u”) Party is apparently called so because it was, for a while, run by an American who wrote with American spelling (and rightly so for him). Someone, somewhere, saw “Labor” written by this American and thought “Oh, so that’s how the party writes it to differentiate itself from the labour unions*.

Teachers I’ve had in the past, at school and university, have written globalisation with a “z”, suggesting Americanization of Australia is definitely in progress. It would be different if they had grown up somewhere where the “z” was used, but most of them were born in Australia and grew up in Australia.

Why does this matter? After all, doing a google search for “odours” only yeilds 26.7 per cent of the results “odors” does (based on reliable academic research using the advanced methodology of a “google” search). It is part of our culture. And I believe that stands for something.

Also, it’s pretty annoying to the people who notice it. So we should all try and appease this whingey minority at the expense of our own time. Because stopping people whingeing would also stop people posting annoyingly long, ranty opinions like this.

*The Australian “Labor” Party information is based partly on an urban legend which few people I have asked (including members of the Labor Party) know of. Most say they aren’t sure why there is no “u”. The rest of that story is based on my own, clearly educated assumptions.

The Common Perception of the Australian Media

Is your news limited?

For years I’ve been dissatisfied with the media in Australia. Journalists seem to come across as sneaky, snide, sleazy, arrogant, unethical and unconcerned individuals which add up to the sum of media in this country. But are they like that?

Since this year (I suppose) I have been wondering whether the media really is as bad as we all seem to think it is. And this train of thought is fuelled largely by my study, but also by my increased interest in current affairs and news and satire like The Chaser and Frontline. I was having a discussion with my brother a few days ago about whether the Australian media help to enforce ideas of democracy. And he was saying that he believed the media is not doing that job in the slightest and is more hinderance than helper.

I used to agree with that sentiment, almost without question, but the cynical (journalistic) side of me questions everything. And really, are the media such a bad element? Should we distrust them, make them the butt of our jokes, treat the phrase “ethical journalism” as an oxymoron of old? What is it about the media that causes regard somewhat lesser than that you might have for mould in the shower?

Most of the journalists in this country are good journalists. They are ethical and they do their job not for glory, but out of an intrinsic human interest (and probably an ingrained duty some of the more weathered journo’s feel). Think about journalists like Kerry O’Brien, Sandra Sully (yes, she annoys me, but she’s pretty good really), George Negus, Indira Naidoo, David Marr, Michael Idato, Hedley Thomas (who exposed Dr Death and the mistreatment of Haneef). If you know any one of those names, think of whether they fit in with your perceptions of the media. I don’t think they would for my brother, but they are good, prominent journalists. And the majority of journalists in this country are just as good.

But if we have so many “good journalists”, why does the media seem like it’s doing nothing helpful? Therein lies the problem.

I think it has to do with the concentration of media ownership, firstly. Of course, I love Fairfax and News Limited, but with only TWO primary owners of media in this country, there’s very little competition. Think of a job you would like. And imagine you are in a position where you could be promoted for doing better than your colleagues. Ok, now imagine there are very few colleagues at a level above you as most are on the same level as you. That’s what I think we have with the media here. What’s the point in trying to get to the top when most people are level with you and going higher could expose you to a lot of nasty treatment?

There’s more legislative influences, but that is a big one, and I don’t want to harp on for much longer.

The other element is what makes up the definition of media. It includes news, current affairs, features (in magazines etc), documentary shows like Australian Story and celebrity gossip that you often see in magazines. Are you seeing the contrasts?

I’ll probably write a lot more political stuff over the next few days, leading up to and following the election.

Next time: Tune in for the best way to ask questions as a journalist, and the different techniques you can use. Baffle your friends with your investigative, persistant skills and stun politicians with your mastery of questioning.

But for now, I wonder if you might think about how The Chaser’s War on Everything only ever satirises a couple of sections of the media. If all of “the media” was the way lots of people think of the media, wouldn’t they satirise more than the usual suspects?

A Culture of Fear

We sat in the dark performance space waiting for the audience to enter. An eerie song was playing and the only light came from four torches. Once audience member followed the light to the centre of the room before changing their mind and moving outside the light. When it was dark, we began to talk.

I walked around, taking photos of people in the dark, then handing them disturbing images which they could look at when the lights were turned on. The stockings on our heads made us uniform, and the scattered sentences unsettled a lot of people. The lights, when they came up, were only light enough to illuminate the space, not much more.

It sounds strange, and possibly a little over-dramatised in written form, but the effect on the audience was what we had hoped for. Our performance was exploring the phrase “a culture of fear” and we were both facilitating and sharing fears with the people around us. In a post-September 11, post-Bali Bombings, post-London bus scare, terrorism is fear’s word of choice. And suspicion is rife.  How do you know who is planning something? Could that person talking quietly into their phone and rapidly looking around be someone suspect enough to call the National Security Hotline?

You know there’s something wrong with society when the sound of fireworks can be mistaken for gunfire – even if only for a second. We’re more on edge than before, and in some ways I think that is a normal, reasonable reaction to recent world events. But in many ways I wonder if there is an alternative, and this performance gave me a chance to make others question their own fears.

When the fluros were turned on and our performance was over someone gave the best feedback I could have asked for.

“My heart was racing. I was scared, but I also asked myself why I was scared.”

That was what I had hoped to hear.