WOMADelaide day 1

We stake our claim on the grass right at the centre in front of Foundation Stage with a picnic rug. To our left a large extended family with two young daughters, documenting on little digital cameras. All around us couples, families, groups of friends.

I think the average age of this crowd on the lawn might be 50 or so. But there are noticeable outliers – some couples in their early 20s, and the odd family with very young children. This is our first time at WOMADelaide.

I read somewhere the festival gets 22 000 visitors per day. We’re all cultural tourists in this together. Here for the vibe and food as much as for the music and dance.

We’re welcomed by MC for the night, Annette Shun Wah, then welcomed again, this time to Country, in language, song and dance by Jamie Goldsmith and Taikurtinna – a Kaurna cultural group whose name means ‘family’. Jamie tells us there is no word for ‘welcome’ in his language but he translates the sentiment as “we’re glad you’re here”.

Then we see sarod master, Amjad Ali Khan and the Adelaide Symphony Orchestra. Amjad Ali Khan accompanied by his two sons also on sarod, coaxed us all gently into the mood of the mode with an opening improvisation. He then introduced the ASO conductor to the stage, who led the orchestra in accompanying the lead musicians.

The orchestra was best in the swooning, sumptuous, full string moments – adorning the sarod. Amjad and sons, and the tabla player all shone bright in their solos. A highlight for me when orchestra and lead musicians came together, were the playful and competitive call and response passages. These passages built to a climax at the end of the concerto; and a standing ovation on the lawn.

As we shook our rug out, festival volunteers told the group beside us they might want to think about moving before they get trampled by the dance train and covered in dust. Minutes later the Colour of Time musicians and dancers sweep through, gathering up people from the crowd to join them, handing out bags of brightly coloured dust. We were too chicken to jump in but grabbed a couple of packets anyway. My daughter tore off the tops, held her arms out twirling around. Red and green pigment swirled about her, covering her completely.

We then wandered the grounds, spoilt for choice for food and drink options, before dropping into the Taste of the World tent for a cooking lesson with Algerian oud duo, DuOud. Then popped over to learn some power dance moves with the gorgeous Amrita Hepi. They included: the Power Strut, the Destiny’s Child Trilogy, The Mosh, The Self Care and the Fuck the Patriarchy.

Amrita’s choice of music was gold – curated especially for International Women’s Day. She taught us the Fuck the Patriarchy with Khia’s “My Neck, My Back”. With quite a few kids present at the workshop, she did ask the mothers in the crowd to vote on that or a less explicit option. But this is WOMADelaide. We’re a relaxed bunch of mums here, right? Khia won hands down.

The last act we caught before walking back to our bnb was Kaiit. And we loved her and the band. This crowd was much younger than the one on the lawn hours earlier and this concert wasn’t seated, but still, everyone was considerate of others in the space. Everyone was there for a good time.

Kaiit’s set was a delicious jazzy, neo soul, hip hop mix. I loved her scatting and her warm banter in between songs. Her backing vocalist’s lush harmonies, too. I left promising myself the next album I buy would be hers.

Right here. Right now.

In the program note, Artistic Director, Rosie Dennis describes Urban Theatre Project’s latest site-based, experiential and multifarious arts offering as an “ode” to the history and people of Blacktown.

And Right Here. Right Now. (RHRN) definitely felt like an ode to place for me. Not an elaborate, exultant or pompous kind of ode (something the word might conjure for some) but a musing, light-hearted, deep-feeling and honest kind of ode. Think Pablo Neruda’s Odes to Common Things.

Part installation and performance, part urban guided tour, part welcome dinner, RHRN is a bit like a choose-your-own-adventure where you’re not quite sure what the journey holds or how it finishes. You’re both observer and player moving through a series of scenes or sites…

RHRN is a joyful, honest, intriguing, curious, playful and delicious experience all at once. But it’s real delight lies in it’s praise of the ‘common’ – everyday places and people are remembered and hero-ed, and well they should be.

Read my write-up for Audrey Journal in full here


Forge: Intercultural Contemporary Performance

Front row in the Lennox at Riverside. An unfinished pentagram demarcates the floor. The stage is bare apart from it and the floor mics. I coaxed my thirteen-year-old daughter along, though she’d rather be listening to K-pop on Spotify. We watch Annalouise Paul in her latest complete solo work, Forge, and on the way home unpick the dance, music and narrative elements of the show. We talk about Annalouise’s beautiful and poised presence on stage, we wonder if the work is autobiographical and guess at its meaning…

Dance maker, Annalouise Paul, has enjoyed a long and successful career as an independent artist in Australia and internationally. Her artistic practice is inspired by her own cultural inheritance and by the concept of identity as an ever-evolving construct. Off the stage Annalouise is well-known for her activist work in the arts – advocating for culturally diverse practices and artists. She currently runs the Intercultural Dialogues Facebook group with 700 members globally – a place for discussion about arts/culture and for connection across cultures.

I ask Annalouise if she describes Forge as intercultural work. She replies, “I suppose it is. It examines two distinct dance languages that sit inside my body and very much create a tension, and the potential heresy of merging a tradition like flamenco with contemporary dance”. I ask if Forge fits neatly into one genre. She says it is “dance-music-theatre”, explaining that genres are for others to decide, and for boxes needing to be ticked. For her, music can’t be separated from dance, nor dance from story.

I ask a few more questions. Annalouise is as articulate, dynamic and deep-feeling in words as she is in performance. Read on for the full interview and my endnotes. First published in The Music Trust’s Loudmouth Magazine here.
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Gili: an invocation for healing

We wait in the foyer of the Bankstown Arts Centre. The doors to the courtyard open and we’re guided to a circle pattern on the grass, lined with feathers and cloth. Eucalyptus leaves are smoking in a pile on one point on the circumference of the circle. We’re welcomed to country by a Darug elder then two men sing and play the clapsticks. A group of young women dance inside the cirle. The songs are in language and the dances seem traditional (to my limited knowledge). There’s contentment and maybe a little pride in the dancers’ faces as their eyes meet with those of people known to them in the crowd. I happen to be sitting next to a girl they look up at, smile and nod at often, as they perform the dances one after the other: Ochre, Welcome, Smoking, Spirit, Possum, Willy Wagtail, Wave and Feather.

There’s a short break and then we’re ushered into the theatre. The rows closest to the stage on all sides are reserved for ‘friends of the artists’, my guess is that this is almost half the seats in the theatre. I sit further back with my own family. An electronic music track is playing. There are projections on the wall at the back of the stage. The young women, in different costumes now and sitting in pairs, sift salt through their fingers and sprinkle it around them. The music echoes the waves of the ocean. We’re later told this song is about salt water healing. Another is about tree sap medicine. Yet another about young women falling prey and finding themselves in abusive cycles.

In this sense, Gili: to iginite the spark (created by Peta Strachan and Jannawi Dance Clan) is also social and political commentary meant to “spark conversation”, (as one of the dancers put it in the Q and A afterwards), on contemporary issues facing young Aboriginal people in urban communities, especially those facing women. It looks back at traditional cultural practices of healing, and asks the question: is there a place for these methods today?

This performance was the first ‘showing’ – a work in progress. Personally, I enjoyed it even in this early stage of development. I liked that it contextualised the different dances (traditional and contemporary) by placing them on different stages – the courtyard and the theatre space respectively. I also liked that this was a work created and performed predominantly by women – among them emerging artist Kassidy Waters (a recent NAISDA graduate currently studying with Sydney Dance Company), who apart from performing, we were told created all the projections and the music, as well as choreographing one of the pieces.

What I enjoyed most though, was my own personal, reflexive reaction to the performance. To me, Gili felt like a gentle invocation for healing, where the space was created for the audience to enter into and contemplate the issues laid before us, interpreted through dance.