Eric Bottomley

LISTEN

About a year ago an old friend passed away with a brain tumour – Eric Bottomley. Eric was well known in parts of the UK as an accomplished realist painter and folk singer. I had the pleasure of sharing a house with Eric in Dorset for several months in 1976. During that time I’d watch in awe as his canvases turned into lifelike trains or ships. But it was his singing and performing that had me more enthralled.

Eric was one of that breed of English folk performer who could make you laugh and cry in equal measure. A hauntingly beautiful folk ballad would be followed by a funny story that brought tears of laughter. Then back to the sentimental tears in response to another beautiful song. And so on. It was such a treat to watch him perform.

In the months I spent in Dorset I’d ask Eric to teach me some songs, and he’d patiently go through them with me, and write down all the words and chord charts. Watching Eric, and practicing these new songs I also learnt to finger pick.

On subsequent visits to the UK over the years I was never able to reconnect with him for various reasons. When I heard he’d died I felt surprisingly strong pangs of sadness. I thought it a bit strange to feel this much emotion for someone I had not seen for 49 years. Then I began to play some of the songs that Eric taught me and still knew how to play. I struggled to finish any of them as tears flowed. I tried another song, and then another, and then another. To my astonishment I realised I still knew 7 songs that Eric had taught me. That is a huge number of songs for one person to pass on to another musician.  Seven gorgeous songs.

As I played the songs Eric taught me down through the years I never really appreciated what a significant influence he was in my musical development; never appreciated just how much time he must have spent helping me learn those songs. Today again I began playing some of these songs and again found myself in tears. Eric was a wonderful singer: he had the ability to eke out every last nuance of beauty in a melody. There are songs that when you get them right they give you that thrill down the spine as you sing them and you know that people listening are feeling it too.

So, inadvertently Eric Bottomley has given me the endless gift of soul moving melodies. I think that’s why I felt so sad when I heard he’d gone. He’d given me a precious gift and I never got to thank him.

One of the songs he taught me was from Gerry Reffery: Patrick. Patrick as it happens is about a painter. So now Eric, whenever I sing this song you’ll be with me, trying to say thank you in song, and hopefully passing on the pleasure and beauty of the melody that do you and the song proud.

Thank you Eric. For the songs, your patience, the laughs, and the beauty of melody. Rest in peace. And I’m sorry about the porridge pots!

 

Photography: the Art of Composition

 

I have written elsewhere on my own approach to photography. I am flattered that someone has actually been inspired by my photographs and wants to know more about how I go about creating my images.

One aspect of photography that I feel confident talking about is composition.  I’m told I have a ‘good eye’ for composition and I think I have developed that aptitude further over time. Composition is the art of framing your images – what is in the image? is it close range? aligned with other elements? minimalist?  full of detail? There are many facets to composition and below is a list of the elements that I am mindful of – in no particular order.

1.      Perspective. Altering perspective can make a fairly mundane image into something much more interesting. Consider taking the photograph from different angles – up above, down under, over, beside; think about height and depth

2.      Context. Context in a very real sense is everything. A chair beside a table is not especially interesting. A fancy office chair beside a path in a public park is a much more interesting subject – it prompts so many questions. Why? Who? The chair in a park is in fact out of context – that’s what makes it interesting. A car in a café likewise - not something you normally see. Be on the look out for normal things in unusual places!

3.      Look everywhere. When you walk let your eyes roam up, down, left to right and back again. There are possible pictures everywhere. Walk with childlike vision – linger in places you wouldn’t normally; look at everything more closely. Look for patterns – on leaves, in the sky, on fences. There is magic in the mundane. Zero in on the normal.

4.      Don’t shy away from eyesores. There is beauty in chaos and mess. Mess is not always ugly. It can provide stunning unexpected abstract perspectives.

5.      Light.  Light is always changing – natural sunlight changes from morning to afternoon to dusk to night. The same scene can look quite different at different times of the day. Don’t just dismiss something or a place because “I have photographed that before.” Things look different under different lighting.

6.     Juxtaposition – look for unlikely companions. The minaret of a mosque looks great in the same frame as telegraph poles – likewise the telegraph poles! It makes both objects look more interesting.

7.     Boundaries and edges – keep an eye on the edges of things. Boundaries and edges always mean there’s a change of texture or mood. Eg shore/sand, grass/path, sky/horizon, fences/nature.  

8.      Light on water. This applies to all bodies of water – ponds, lakes, rivers, the sea. Light changes the colour of water and often bounces/reflects off it in interesting ways.

9.      Old and new. Similar to juxtaposition because there is inherent contrast between things that are old and things that are new.  Easy to spot in the architectural landscape. Similarly people – babies with the elderly for example.

10  Move your feet. I read once that the best photographers are those who use their feet! Don’t be afraid to change the angle just a couple of steps to the left, or a few steps further back. Or move to the side of the subject and take it in profile. Look for the best or most interesting angle.

11  People: unposed is nearly always better.

12  Architecture/Built Environment Many towns and cities display infinite variety in their buildings. Old/new; small/large; religious/ secular; residential/commercial. Isolate the details of what defines a building and take close-ups – gutters, gables, steps, windows, etc

13  Animals are always a great subject but are often hard to catch unless they’re asleep. It  requires a lot of patience.

14  Layers. You will be surprised how often the visual world presents itself in layers. Sand/sea/sky is an obvious one. Footpath/hedge/house might be another. Ground/trees/sky…..

I hope some might find this list useful. Please leave a comment or question below if you’d like me to elaborate more on any of these points.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Accidentally Like a Martyr ( a review from 2021)

 Henry Wagons Does Warren Zevon

Governor Hindmarsh Hotel, Wed 28 Apr, 2021

Many of Warren Zevon’s songs begin with an instantly recognisable and catchy hook. Such is the intro to Lawyers Guns And Money – power chords belted out with a pounding beat and a great melodic hook – and so the show began. Henry Wagons in handcuffs was a nice touch. It also provided a clue to his curious interpretation of the music and persona of Warren Zevon. The infamous Excitable Boy was next up (“He bit the usherette’s leg in the dark”) as Wagons hopped and strutted around the stage. Zevon himself typically exhibited little extravagant movement as a live performer – whether on keyboard or guitar – and it was a little disconcerting to watch these classics in new hands.

We learned that Zevon briefly studied classical music with Stravinsky and then heard a song that bore useabsolutely no clue of that tutoring – I Was In The House When The House Burned Down – but it offered evidence of his bizarre approach to lyric writing. He had a penchant for lyrics that were off centre and occasionally outrageous or shocking. The epic tale of a mercenary named Roland is a case in point. Wagons seemed to have settled into the Zevon stream by now and really nailed the vocal on Roland The Headless Thompson Gunner. He seemed more comfortable singing the lower registers in the slightly slower Zevon songs where the notes are longer and more sonorous and the melodies easier to land on. And despite these being rock songs melody was always paramount in Zevon’s material.

Two Hawaii based songs – the catchy Hula Hula Boys, and Desperadoes Under The Eaves – a song written during a period of extended isolation in a Hawaiian hotel – rounded out the first set and Wagons left the stage in handcuffs once more.

The second half began with Wagons appearing in bathrobe and towel saying he wasn’t ready but the band cajoled him into singing Johnny Strikes Up the Band anyway. I’ve always regarded this song as a brilliant example of how a band might start a gig. It was a shame that the power and appeal of this song was sacrificed to humour.

In general though, the insertion of humour made the show more enjoyable. Zevon after all was a quirky character and Wagons has every right to interpret the music and context in any way he sees fit but there were times when his lighthearted approach detracted from the gravitas of the material.

The band competently rolled out Poor Poor Pitiful Me and the aching Carmelita while Wagons finished his shower.

A quiz show involving members of the audience revealed little new info about Zevon and probably could have been omitted but some obviously enjoyed it. Using Accidentally Like A Martyr as a prop for some cheap audience engagement however just devalued the power of a truly great love song.

The show concluded with a song that Dylan recorded – The Mutineer – with Wagons on grand piano.

A really enjoyable night; Wagons and the band did a great job of reworking these classics. In terms of stage craft, it‘s so hard to get the balance right in these ‘tribute acts’. Henry Wagons is not Warren Zevon and he does a fair job of doing it his way even if a little disconcerting.

What definitely shone through however is how great these songs are; many rue the fact that so many tribute acts are hogging the play space in live music venues these days but this is another batch of material that deserves a second hearing, and the opportunity to be passed on to another generation. Warren Zevon was an extraordinary songwriter/singer who for whatever reason never got the musical headlines he warranted.

This review also published on The Clothesline.

Murray Whispers

Adelaide Ballet
ILA, Fri 15 Aug, 2025

Adelaide Ballet is a newly established dance company created to ‘fill a gap in the South Australian artistic landscape’. It has secured the Immersive Light and Art (ILA) venue as its home performance space on Hindmarsh Square. Murray Whispers is their first offering for season 2025, and it’s a stunner.

The interactive set cleverly recreates the feel of the Murray. Mist rises from the early morning river as we watch the natural world slowly waking up. Gradual stirrings in silhouette reveal creatures taking in the new day. Uncertain, careful, they gently expand into their day as the sun rises. They become the flowers, trees and animals of the riverbank. Sometimes they dance alone, sometimes joined together as one – a tree, an animal, a feeling. Guided by a gorgeous atmospheric musical score from Ashley Hribar it is at times breathtakingly beautiful. Yes mesmerising.

As the day grows longer projected scenes take us to another part of the Murray – cliffs, reeds, ancient tree trunks, rock pools – all carefully chosen to reflect the very essence of Australia’s greatest river. It was so easy to imagine yourself there sitting on the banks. The projected video images show trees and reeds swaying gently in the wind. Birds occasionally flit through the scene as dancers weave gracefully in and out of the landscape. And as the sun sets and dusk draws near we see birds returning to their homes in the trees, and our dancers slow down and once again become silhouettes in the fading light.

This reviewer lacks the credentials to assess the finer points of ballet technique but enjoyable as it was there were some minor imperfections: a few slight missteps when moving from one position to another, and an occasional lack of synchronicity with the soundtrack – but again very minor.

Tiered seating would improve the line of sight for those in the back rows – they would have missed much of the opening scene that took place at floor level. Nevertheless, a great debut offering from Adelaide Ballet that has whetted the appetite for what’s to come.

Choreography: Sarah Humeniuk and Rejane Garcia

This review also published on The Clothesline.

Adelaide's Algal Bloom

 

I have lived in Adelaide most of my life. Adelaide, like all Australian cities is on the coast - the sea is never far away. My first memory of the sea was travelling down Anzac Hwy as a kid in the family car. We used to have a competition to see who could see the sea first. ‘I can see the sea’.  ‘I can see the sea’ chants rang out from the back seat as the sea appeared as a thin sliver on the horizon.

 

The sea has always been synonymous with joy in my life: a place that meant fun, a celebration, coolness after a swim. My Adelaide beach has featured at every stage of my life: a place to make out with your teenage girlfriend,  to work on that suntan, do some exercise, lie in the shallows, collect sea creatures, watch the sunset, enjoy a leisurely stroll, and in later life simply a place to enjoy the natural beauty and a sense of peace.

 

Apart from early evenings on hot summer days Adelaide beaches are rarely crowded. They stretch from Port Noarlunga in the South to North Haven - some 30 to 40 kilometres. Fine, silky sand as good as you'll find anywhere in the world. Above all a place of respite and regeneration. You notice that people are rarely badly behaved at the beach. The sense of space and wind and the nature of the salt air seems to bring out the best in people. 

In January this year (2025) there were reports of people feeling sick after swimming in the waters of the southern Fleurieu. It was attributed to something called an algal bloom. This bloom slowly worked its way around to St Vincent's Gulf and by June had breached the entire Adelaide coastline. Dead marine life started appearing on our beaches: stingrays, sharks, seahorses, crabs, puffer fish... . the number of carcasses multiplied. Our beloved beaches had become places of death. Like an underwater bushfire the algal bloom wiped out most of the gulf's marine life. A place I had turned to all my life for peace and quiet became a constant horror show.

 

I can no longer walk along my beaches. I can walk near the sea as long as I can't see the dead creatures washed up on the sand. To walk along the sand now breaks my heart. Adelaide, the city between the hills and the sea, is now the city between the hills and a marine graveyard. People no longer go fishing or crabbing. My son can no longer go for his daily ‘sanity swim’. Thousands of Adelaideans now have to look elsewhere for that respite and regeneration.

 

Climate change has come home to roost on our doorstep with a vengeance. The warnings of environmental disaster have been clear and persistent for 50 years and we have done little to address the crisis.

 

For decades fruit growers and agriculturists have been using various chemicals and fertilisers to boost production in the fields and orchards alongside the Murray River.  In 2023 record floods along the Murray washed thousands of megalitres of river water into the sea at the Murray mouth. Occasionally in recent years our gulf waters have heated up sufficiently to prompt the onset of small algal blooms. A particularly long dry winter in 2024 didn't allow the gulf waters to cool and when that warmer water mixed with the tainted river water from the Murray the perfect conditions for the creation and spread of the algal bloom were present. So we now have this environmental disaster on our doorstep. The sea still sometimes looks gorgeous and blue and inviting from a distance but it is devoid of marine life. We have killed all our fish.

The Shock of the New

The Shock of the New takes a look back at pivotal moments in South Australian theatre from 1962 – 2014. Conceived and performed by graduating students from the Bachelor of Performance at Flinders University in conjunction with Director Chris Drummond, this was simply a great idea. What better way to present a broad sweep of our recent local theatre, enhance its credibility, and pay homage to the actors and directors involved.

In a pointer perhaps as to what was to follow, the standard welcome to country inserted an acknowledgement of indigenous storytellers.

The pivotal theatrical moments presented were taken from twelve different productions from various theatre groups – amateur and professional. This presents some challenges. Any such list is going to generate spirited discussion about why such and such a scene or play was included or why others were left out. And how could you possibly ignore the work of theatre group X or theatre group Y? (There were indeed some notable theatre groups that did not make the cut.)

As the show progressed it became clear that certain themes were chosen to guide the selection of content. There was a preponderance of scenes referencing sexuality, and distrust of authority and prevailing middle-class mores featured prominently. A Trumper might in fact characterize the whole show as ‘woke.’ But it begs the question, ‘what is the point of theatre?’ The cast and crew of The Shock of the New rightly see theatre as a crucial agent of change; a vehicle that should reflect minority perspectives, and question mainstream values.

Another inherent challenge here was the lack of opportunity for any in-depth character development.  Cast members occasionally had to launch themselves into parts laden with intense emotion out of the blue as it were, with no chance to become comfortable with the role and context over time as happens when a whole play is presented and an actor is able to inhabit the part before having to explode with emotion. That said, the cast did a remarkable job of conveying emotion and authenticity in the many and varied chosen scenes.

Visually this show was often quite stunning. Bold single colours projected on the back wall of the stage often contrasted with silhouetted characters to wonderful effect. Narrations of background events provided relevant context between each scene and reflected something of the world view of the collective cast as well as allowing scene changes to be virtually imperceptible. The flow from one scene to the next was impeccable.

Performances from the principal cast were uniformly even and convincing, but there were highlights that stood out. Isiah Macaspac’s portrayal of a female character in Troupe Theatre’s Cloud 9 was exceptional, and Ariel Dzino’s crazy bride and temptress from The Ecstatic Bible was deeply moving. As was indeed this entire scene of people in chains scared to death – epitomized eloquently in a powerful cameo from Alexander Karytinos.

In the penultimate scene a fish falls from the sky (from When the Rain Stops Falling), and as any Adelaide resident who’s aware of the environmental catastrophe unfolding in our coastal waters at the moment might be, I was stricken by grief. It was so bizarrely, profoundly, prophetic and unsettling.

Bravo to all involved with this ambitious and successful production. Fast-paced, never dull, moving, laced with variety – an excellent expose of the more significant social issues of the last 50 years through the lens of local theatre. And an optimistic indicator that there is a reservoir of young talent ready to steward local theatre through the challenges of the next 50!

This review also published on The Clothesline.

Five Days in Berlin

Green van in the shadows for quick pick-up

Hearty tasty soup offered warmly

Comfort in a matching bed

Coffee ready to go

For a warm morning welcome kitchen

Newspapers and easy chat

Own key for easy escape            

To verdant forests everywhere

Left-handed guitar sought and found

For entry to another world

Of a stranger’s special occasion

Dance and theatre in celebration

Soccer with the young and a solemn visitation

Dinner and airport drop-off

Green van recedes back to the forest.

Bernadette Robinson: Divas - Adelaide Cabaret Festival Review

Her Majesty’s Theatre
Fri 13 June, 2025

Diva: a celebrated, exceptional female singer. Diva is also the Latin word for goddess. It also comes with the connotation of being troublesome or difficult to deal with. Bernadette Robinson takes on the daunting task of singing the songs of ten of the more prominent divas of the last 100 years – from opera singer Maria Callas to contemporary pop star Miley Cyrus. She not only sings their songs, but she briefly inhabits the characters of each diva as she reveals key moments in their lives and their relationship to music. It’s an extraordinary achievement.

As Streisand she takes on her trademark Brooklyn accent and tells us how she taught her own mother to smoke at age 10, before launching into the classic The Way We Were. Her self-deprecating Amy Winehouse refers to herself as a dickhead in a working-class British accent before belting out the gut-wrenching Rehab. Her Piaf sounds perfectly German as she talks about men and love.

Robinson and director Simon Phillips have managed to isolate events in the lives of each diva that had significant emotional impact and bearing on their music. There is a clear pattern: each of these women struggled with aspects of life and music, and live performance and devotion from loving fans helped them cope. Even without the wonderful songs, Diva is a great piece of writing.

As Kate Bush, the first diva on the list, she ironically, provocatively, questions why a singer should sound like anybody else, and says that every singer should find their own voice! As Robinson effortlessly worked her way through the different genres of the ten divas I did find myself wondering what she might sound like singing herself. Opera, rock, musical, country – she can sing them all. I loved her Edith Piaf – in a trice it’s clear just how good Piaf was: a gorgeously plaintive and original voice laden with soul and emotion. Any doubts about why Dolly Parton is featured among this esteemed company go out the window with Robinson’s beautifully controlled vocal on I Will Always Love You. Not to mention the funny stories about being blond – again with an impeccable country twang!

Then came her portrayal of Maria Callas. Perhaps this is Robinson’s musical home. The passion, the tone, the control – heart-achingly beautiful.

Supported by a slick and unobtrusive band (keyboards, bass, drums) this was an evening of near musical perfection. In a show that covered so many musical styes it’s inevitable that there will be some songs that don’t appeal as much as others, but any shortcomings in that regard are offset by some of the best singing you will ever hear. Just superb.

This review also published in The Clothesline.

Adventures in Antique Music

St Theodore’s Anglican Church, Wed 19 Mar, 2025

A good-sized crowd gathered at St Theodore’s Anglican Church in Toorak Gardens for this Lyrebyrd Consort event. Clearly there is still wide interest in hearing music from Renaissance and Medieval times. A quick glance at the program tells me that despite the venue there is no liturgical music featured.

The show begins with a useful introduction to the unusual assortment of instruments we see in front of us, and the dedicated musicians who have learnt to play them. There are multiple kinds of wind instruments (recorders, crumhorns), strings (the vielle, oud) and the imposing looking and amusingly named sackbuts up the back. Musicians are decked out in costume appropriate for the period.

We are taken on a metaphorical journey across Europe by our narrator and entertained by music from the 13th to the 16th centuries. The program is arranged chronologically so you can get a sense of how Western music developed over time.

Many pieces are quite short and feature parts of the ensemble, while other extended pieces involved nine or more musicians. The earlier items on the program featuring fewer instruments were noticeably quiet (no amplification was used), but the ensemble pieces were quite loud enough and when the sackbuts joined in even a tad raucous.

Several pieces featured quite complex and long vocal parts from an accomplished soloist, and others featured delightful vocal harmonies from multiple singers. There were those jaunty recorder and percussion tunes that always have me imagining a happy crowd of musicians marching though town on the way to the fair. For later pieces from the 16th Century the ensemble was augmented with rich sounding viols and suddenly the music had a greater depth and warmth.

This was such an uplifting and instructive concert. Following the program chronologically was like following the progression of music over the years – the pieces became longer, more complex, suitable for larger ensembles, and more accessible to the modern listener. Early pieces have their appeal in what almost seem like naïve and innocent attempts to make musical sounds on whatever was available – and that was recorders and percussion. (Not to suggest they were easy to play – they weren’t!) But listening to this whole program you can spot the origins of modern forms of Western music – the brass band, opera, and orchestral. Kudos and huge thanks to the Lyrebyrd Consort for keeping this music alive for modern audiences. If the length of the ovation at the end of the show is any indication it is very much appreciated.

This review also published on The Clothesline.

Loren Kate and the Aurora Ensemble

 The Stables at the Queens Theatre, Sun 23 Mar, 2025

The Stables at Queens Theatre was packed for the final night of the Fringe featuring local singer Loren Kate with members of the Aurora Vocal Ensemble.

Loren delivered a solid show of mostly guitar based original numbers supported by Aurora, cello and keyboard. It’s a nice balance of sounds and ensures her folksy and occasionally country tinged melodies have maximum impact. Emotion is a key component of Loren’s music and the chosen arrangements ensure that it is given free reign.

Cello always adds warmth wherever it is added and the soothing, delicate sounds from the Aurora Ensemble create a lovely depth of feeling and timelessness. A song dedicated to keeping our rivers alive was quite lovely, and her own interpretation of Shane Howard’s Solid Rock also impressed. Another song featuring just Loren and back-up singers without guitar was another fine moment.

Despite the temperature rising to uncomfortable levels in the theatre the show got better and better as it went.

Loren Kate obviously trades on singing songs charged with emotion. I don’t particularly like hearing about cancer episodes or dying friends in song introductions – I’d rather the songs speak for themselves, but Loren Kate does have the ability to deliver poignant songs with great effect. Her songs are slow and relatively simple, but her voice and instrumental arrangements turn them into something special and create a shared experience that I imagine could become quite addictive.

This review also published on The Clothesline.

Jacob Collier at Her Majesty's Theatre (7/6/25)

CC image courtesy of TED Conference

Jacob Collier is hailed by some as the greatest musician on the planet. Barefoot in bright baggy pants he would have looked quite at home in the Haight-Ashbury of the mid-60s. He’s a carefree spirit who’s a very physical performer. His dazzling piano technique is punctuated with bouncing and swinging legs; he sways and rocks and bends as he plays – his music is visual and aural.

A multi-instrumentalist, tonight Collier limits himself to piano, guitars and keyboard. He began at the piano playing a jazz derived version of Can’t Take My Eyes Off You that danced in and out of the recognised melody. As he did throughout the performance, he takes a song and pushes it to its outer limits – returning every now and then to a familiar lick or lyric that keeps you on track. He plays with timing so that things get sped up to quite frenetic levels, or slowed right down and sometimes with a sudden stop – often with a surprised glance towards the audience. He’ll take a vocal as high as a kite and then bring it back to a deep bass – he really has an extraordinary vocal range – and occasionally uses this as a point of humour to get people laughing.

Collier has fun with music; he mucks around with it. His boundless talent means he can take any piece of music anywhere he wants. He takes his audience on a fun ride with songs they know and love, and his adoring fans give him total license to do so. The ‘respect the melody’ school of thought may not be so forgiving.

A gorgeous original tune (Little Blue) showcases his exquisite dexterity on acoustic guitar, and at one point has Collier playing guitar with one hand and piano with the other – it sounded great.  On his five-string guitar version of The Beatles’ Norwegian Wood he takes what is already a sweet melody and makes it sweeter and more complex. Beautiful.

Back on the piano he extemporizes a version of Georgia On My Mind into unchartered territory – both with keys and voice – and it feels like this is where he is happiest: jazz like improvisations around a theme he loves exploring.

Then there’s the pub choir part of the show!! His audience know his schtick and as so many prefer to do these days they have come along to be part of the show and not just listen. At any given moment Collier will leap to his feet or put down the guitar and become the choir master!  Clearly many in the audience already know the drill, but even so it is remarkable how quickly he has almost everyone singing harmony together. It’s quite joyous and for the most part sounds pretty good as well.

He teased his way through an inventive version of Brown Eyed Girl (Van Morrison) and closed  with a rousing group vocal chorus on Queen’s classic Somebody to Love to adoring applause.

Jacob Collier is blessed with amazing musical skills and we’re fortunate that he shares his joy and talents in such performances. He is as much showman and entertainer as musician. And this was more than a concert – it was more like a community event.

However, the cross-legged on piano stool homily about the importance of music was a touch cringeworthy. And I’m reminded of Mozart’s critics who as much as they loved his music bemoaned the fact that he played too many notes! But these are minor quibbles in the overall wash-up – an astonishingly gifted musician with a desire to share his joy of the thing he loves.

This review also published on The Clothesline.

Australian Country Towns

 

Balaklava, SA

In my younger life I used to travel regularly by road between Australia’s capital cities. I never had any interest in stopping in any country towns along the way. My young arrogant self assumed there was nothing or nobody in these towns that would be of interest to me. I would rush through them to get to the next big city as quickly as possible. I was usually planning to see friends in these cities and these visits would typically involve live music, drugs, alcohol, and long stimulating conversations.

I, and my friends were typically educated – often to university level, intelligent, articulate and often left-leaning politically. We called people who were conservative – perhaps right-wing voters and who did not take drugs – ‘straight’. This was not just a descriptive tag – it was also a derogatory slur. It was assumed that we had little in common with such people and there’d be little point in spending time with them. And it was assumed that country towns would be full of such people. And I think too there might have been a feeling of superiority: we thought ourselves better than them.

In the 1970s there was a significant divide between urban and rural Australia. There is still a divide, but it is no longer a vast chasm. As a traveller in the 70s for example you wouldn’t find a café with decent food or coffee in the towns along the highway. There would be the roadhouse with pies, pasties and chips and not much else. Country towns were for filling up with fuel, bad food, and perhaps a short walk to stretch the legs.

As I grew older (and perhaps smarter) changes were afoot in rural Australia. Increasingly a more engaged and socially aware cohort took up residence in country towns. Food outlets with decent food and coffee started to appear alongside the trusty roadhouses. Art and craft shops proliferated and served as small galleries to display local goods and art works. Some towns like Kimba in South Australia put more effort into making their towns destinations in their own right rather than just transit locations. Accommodations improved and provided more choice than just  the bog-standard hotel or motel.

The outward appearance of towns became more interesting. Older buildings with possible heritage appeal were restored, plants appeared on footpaths, statues, works of art, and information boards became more prominent and were more intent on conveying the town’s story. There was more focus on offering meaningful distractions to coax the traveller to stay a while. Larger towns had cinemas or theatres suitable for live performances.

And the people started to look different. Country towns began to have some residents who looked as if they could fit right in in places like St Kilda or Paddington. They started to look like places where someone used to city life could feel quite at home and find people there who they could identify with. The gaping chasm between city and country life was closing.

Then some smart person hit upon the idea of silo art! Many Australian towns are dominated by these very tall concrete towers that store grain. It turns out that the surfaces of these vast structures make ideal canvases for telling a story in pictures. So, in small towns like Coonalpyn between Adelaide and Melbourne, for the first time ever tourists would stop to view the silo art and maybe have a coffee or lunch at the café that sprang up across the road from the silos. As other towns jumped on the same bandwagon the concept of Silo Art trails was born, where one could now visit a chain of towns in reasonable proximity and view all the different types of silo art available.

The arrival of the COVID-19 virus was a further step towards the gentrification of Australia’s country towns. As people were encouraged to keep their social distance from others many quickly realized that the best place to do this was in country towns. Together with the technology that made working from home an option for more and more of the workforce, many urban dwellers upped sticks and relocated to the country.

I don’t know if rural people feel any resentment towards these city interlopers, but the net result of these incremental changes over the last 5 decades and this more sudden COVID induced population transfer means that for me country towns are now far more worth a visit. I don’t feel they’ve lost their soul or too much of their rustic character, and they have become places where  I no longer feel like an alien when I walk down the main street. I did once.

I acknowledge that this in part may be because of my youthful insecurities, and a somewhat biased blindness towards country life that lessened as I grew older. Perhaps country towns always had these attractions (theatre, food, culture etc) and I just never stayed long enough to notice.

The Ugly One

Famous Last Words Theatre
Slingsby’s Hall of Possibility

Fri 9 May, 2025

Staging a play called The Ugly One in this sensitive age when you may no longer call a spade a spade seems a little provocative.  It must be some kind of metaphor surely? Well yes and no – as we shall see.

Entering Slingsby’s Hall of Possibility is a treat in itself. It was good to be there early and soak up the atmosphere of a space that could indeed make many things possible. Four vertical lighting strips shone on the performance space and left enough ambient light for your eyes to roam around the intriguing space.

The cast of four each make their separate entrance down a tall stairway. Three of them will take on multiple roles but the ugly one, Lette, plays himself throughout. The grandest entrance is reserved for Lette’s boss, Scheffler, who strolls down the stairs like the belle of the ball.

Between her, Lette’s wife, Fanny, and Karlmann, his assistant, they need to address the delicate issue of telling Lette that he will not be presenting his company’s latest breakthrough at an upcoming convention because his face is a liability. That is, he is extremely unattractive.

It’s excruciating to witness as everyone squirms around this unfortunate reality but eventually the truth is out and Lette immediately insists on undergoing reconstruction surgery. Which as it turns out is fabulously successful and unleashes a chain of events that have you questioning who here is really the ugly one and other relevant questions about identity – how important is it that we look good? Or at least, feel like we look good? If you had a ‘better face’ would you be a different, or better person? Do others treat good looking people better? Are good looking people more likely to be more successful in life?

Rather than directly confront them these serious existential questions are inferred in the mayhem that follows Lette’s miraculous surgery. There’s plenty of humour embedded in the dialogue and a wonderful irony in the fact that the players themselves don’t realise how shallow they’ve become. Virginia Blackwell is near perfect as the supercilious boss and unscrupulous surgeon floating around on an air of superiority completely oblivious to things like ethics and feelings.   James Starbuck does a great job of playing a Lette who is initially hooked on the idea of being beautiful but undergoes something of a redemption as he comes to realise there may be other more important things in life. And his sexy presentation on connector plugs was hilarious!

The play skips along at a good pace. I really enjoyed the simulated surgery scenes. They managed to be brutal, humorous, artistic and elegant all at once. Just one example of some clever direction from James Watson.

So yes – ugly can be seen as a metaphor here, and that it’s not just something we see on the outside of a person. And while some may be gorgeous to look at, perhaps the old cliché is true that beauty really is only skin deep.

A fine piece of thoughtful, entertaining theatre in a great venue.   

This review also published in The Clothesline.

 

Notes from New Caledonia and Vanuatu (November 2015)

Noumea

Travel: the waiting game. Noumea. Hotel Nouvata. Lobby. 40 minutes till shuttle bus for airport arrives. Heading to Vanuatu. Should already be there. Chanced to look at my email before boarding shuttle for early morning flight. Got up at 5:00 AM for this purpose! Only to read the flight had been cancelled. Only the second time this has happened to me over the years so I consider myself lucky.

Wasn't so bad really. I went back to bed for a couple of hours and subsequently had a nice walk around Noumea. That was my plan for Port Vila today but it will be dark when I get there now. Quite a fascinating blast to be here in Noumea. One can live a life so ignorant of things that are just so close. Just three hours flying time from Sydney and you’re in the French Pacific. English very much a second language here but everyone speaks it well enough. Just 44% of the population of New Caledonia are descended from the Kanakas - all of whom came here from Vanuatu. The remainder are French, or the progeny of French plus locals:  ‘burgers’ as they are called it Sri Lanka. People of mixed blood. Noticeably missing are the big-framed, overweight people found on other Pacific nations. I assume the French influence has been significant here and that equals education which equals better diet/exercise which equals a beautiful streamline version of Pacific people. Curious to see where Vanuatu fits in the fat/ weight scale.

So out here, just a short hop away from Australia is this pretty, French speaking version of the Gold Coast. Actually it's nicer than the Gold Coast, and though the local culture has been well and truly relegated to second place under the French elite, there is at least a local culture and things seem harmonious. (Note: I learned later this was often far from the truth.) 

I wonder if the men beat their wives and partners here? And what of Islamism? Honestly out here it's like jihads, terrorism, the Taliban etc don't exist. Travelling tends to remove you from the news cycle, and I’d need to turn on a TV or read a newspaper or monitor news feed to hear about the Islamists and I'm tired of them ….

…… wait there's more. New flight to Vanuatu went ahead as scheduled, but no driver at the airport to get me. Air Vanuatu have lost one of its ATR aircraft to a broken engine. So all their scheduling has been thrown into chaos - all of their flights have been rescheduled, handed over to Aircailin, or cancelled. My flight today to Luganville has been rescheduled to two hours earlier. I rang Emmanuel in Luganville this morning and he said he would pass on the new details to his son. Alas he didn't show up at pick-up time at the hotel so I think I'll ditch his services from now on. I thought the family connection was a nice touch but it's already an unreliable connection or maybe I just didn't give him enough Vanuatu time?

Port Vila

I had a lovely morning wandering around Port Vila. And it was with great relief that I woke up this morning able to do such things. There was an episode in the middle of the night that sent me scurrying to the toilet a few times. No pain - just dread that it might be the start of several days of inconvenience but when I woke all was back to normal. Alleluia! Think it may have been the fish or mashed potato (made with milk) but who knows? The fish was wahu and I loved it - juicy and tasty.

Port Vila Airport

So here I wait (and write) once more at the Port Vila domestic airport. Very casual. Laid back. Airport officials in thongs and high viz jackets. No fans turning but I've found a spot at the end of the building with an open view of the terminal, and the hint of a breeze every now and then. Quite pleasant and entertaining really. Just 45 or so minutes to kill then to Luganville on Espiritu Santo where the whole reason for my being here will suddenly be real. Conversations tonight I assume with Emmanuel about how we run the workshop. I'm looking forward to his input to help and finalise the fine detail for the week. There's still a few blanks.

And ….. I have seen enough of ni-Vanuatu to know the workshop will be slower than I thought. (I'm an expert after 24 hours!) There is a cultural difference - that's no surprise -  but the surprise is often in the nature of the cultural difference. I'm still working on it but they don't appear to process information the same way I might. And it is slower, but that's just because they're thinking something other than about the words I'm speaking! It's fascinating. It’ll take me all week to figure it out I'm sure. As well as everything else we're supposed to achieve.

 

Housework: The Hard Work of Democracy

CC image courtesy of Nigel Paine

Housework
Dunstan Playhouse
State Theatre Company
Tue 11 Feb, 2025

It was a little unnerving to watch a show trashing the inner workings of democracy just as the world’s foremost democratic state across the Pacific is busy dismantling theirs. The timing is exquisite.

So too is the timing of the pacy dialogue between the six cast members of Housework. Set changes are marked by a loud military style drum beat and a ticking clock. The pressure is relentless and the need to get your message out quickly is paramount. When not firing messages at each other MPs and their staffers are racing down the corridors of power to the next confrontation.

A wonderfully cold, hard, and grand set design facilitates these multiple movements and adds a gravitas that belies the petty intentions of the building’s inhabitants. One may enter politics with grand delusions about making the world a better place but any optimism is quickly worn down by a realistic pragmatism. Cynicism trumps naivete as negotiations become a process of conniving, backstabbing, tit-for-tat I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine. This is the sad, but at the same time hilariously funny, source of humour for plays like Housework.

We’ve seen it before in TV shows like Yes Minister and Utopia – political absurdity is a rich vein of humour that never seems to tire, but at some point, beyond the laughs, one wonders whether this kind of democracy is very productive. It’s convoluted, slow going, and spits out professional and personal casualties.

Shannon Rush’s smart direction and an innovative set manages to convey the impression that there are crowds of people in the house: MPs, staffers, ministers, protesters, cleaners – all buzzing about taking care of business.

Emily Taheny is simply wonderful as the Chief of Staff for a federal MP as she controls all movements and narratives around her boss with perfect grasp of tone and manner. She pays attention to every little detail as a senior staffer, and consummate performer. She’s a joy to watch. Franca Lafosse is excellent as the hapless junior staffer and her excitement at being at the coalface of politics is endearing and infectious. She quickly learns the game – perhaps too quickly – and pays the price for crossing boundaries.

Susie Youssef as the MP shows great comic timing with several funny one-liners, and it was a nice touch to have Sunitra Martinelli play the part of both cleaner and Prime Minister. After all, someone has to “clean up all this shit”!

Despite all the wheeling and dealing, the blame and accusations, the conniving and backstabbing, the characters seem ultimately to care for each other somewhere. There appears to be tacit recognition that they are trapped in a system that brings out the worst in people and underneath it all that they might actually have some respect for each other.

And what’s it all for ultimately? The love of democracy? The good of the country? To make people’s lives better? The final scene provides the answer with brilliant simplicity!

Great theatre –  superbly functional set, humour in spades, and a witty and insightful play perfectly executed by a first rate cast who didn’t miss a beat.

(This review also published on The Clothesline.)