LOVE IS Magazine by Samuel Koh

LOVE IS // PUBLISHER www. awakenthislove.com • EDITOR Joshua Kelsey • CREATIVE DIRECTOR Samuel Koh for www.freshaesthetics.com • FASHION EDITOR Rachel Kean for www. rachelkean.com • SUBEDITOR Rebekah Nolan • CONTRIBUTING SUBEDITORS Georgie Kelsey, Micaela McLachlan, Kirrily Burns, Jaz Marshall, Yvette Bellamy • CONTRIBUTING PHOTOGRAPHERS Paul Hardwick for www.paulhardwick. com.au, Simon Whitbread for www. simonwhitbread.com.au, Gary Compton • DESIGNERS Samuel Koh, William Saenz, Mike Nquyen • CONTRIBUTING WRITERS Marcus Jacometti, Dan Gorter, John Bishop, Jack Diaz, J F Hawkins, Bernie Chapman, Saxon Griese, Joel Corrigan, Elli Mundell, Joe Pringle, Tom Muller, Josh Kelsey, Cam Walsh • ASSISTANT PRODUCTION COORDINATOR Jaz Marshall • COVER PHOTOSHOOT // DIRECTOR Josh Kelsey • CREATIVE DIRECTORS Samuel Koh, Micaela Maclauchlan, Adele Chard • PHOTOGRAPHER Paul Hardwick for www.paulhardwick.com.au • ASSISTANT PHOTOGRAPHER STYLIST Simon Whitbread • Rachel Kean for www.rachelkean.com • HAIR STYLIST Chloe Petres, Rhys Harrison • MAKE-UP ARTIST Kelly Taylor, Elise Trickey, Andrea Starr • PRODUCTION ASSISTANT Rajeev Varatharajan • SET DESIGN Adele Chard & Team • CAMERAMAN Gary Compton • PRODUCTION COORDINATOR Jaz Marshall • MODELS Chelsea Yates, Kristian Jones, Mason Mulholland, Liberty Jacometti, Meaghan Yates, Adele Chard, Elizabeth McMichael, Andrew Byers, Emily Dent, Melissa Turpin, Katherine Byers, Colin Jones, Micaela MacLachlan, Holly Thomas LOVE IS PHOTOSHOOT // DIRECTOR Josh Kelsey • CREATIVE DIRECTORS Samuel Koh, Micaela MacLachlan, Adele Chard • PHOTOGRAPHER Gary Compton • PRODUCTION ASSISTANT Rajeev Varatharajan • FILM Brad Goosen, Matt Sharp, Sam Coutts • MODELS Micaela Maclauchlan, Andrew Byers, Lisa Welsh, Simone Brandon, Antony Richardson, Nick Evans, Dan Neilson, Phil Hoken, Jono Rowe, Hannah Johnson • FINDING THE PRINCE PHOTOSHOOT // CREATIVE DIRECTOR Rachel Kean for www.rachelkean.com • PHOTOGRAPHER Paul Hardwick for www.paulhardwick.com. au • ASSISTANT PHOTOGRAPHER Simon Whitbread • HAIR Chloe Peters • MAKE UP Kelly Taylor • PRODUCTION ASSISTANT Adele Chard • MODELS Mason Mulholland & Eunice Ward from Chadwicks • Special thanks to Di and Pete at Number 10. • THE BYPASS PHOTOSHOOT // CREATIVE DIRECTORS Samuel Koh, Will Saenz • PHOTOGRAPHER Will Saenz • PRODUCTION ASSISTANTS Kim Cartmell, James Chew, Jared Shand • MODELS Wi-Liem Chua, Ruth Clayton, Felicity Curnow, Tim Harris, Elysha Koekoek •

Why I always end up in the kitchen at parties by Jonny Flash

There is a party on a river bank. My friends are revelling into the small hours of the morning. We made a bonfire bigger. What if love were not an emotion but, rather, its own force? I had rejected such ideas in the past – believand now others draw close. In the face of a cold and dark night, we sat drenched in an amber glow. We laugh ing the world would continue without love. I have been able to rationalise it out of the equation. Life can go on over old memories and make new ones. Even in this, I feel alone. So I go to be by myself. I’ve always been the without love. Humanity has advanced beyond it – it’s an obsolete idea, a manmade connotation to help us all type to end up in the kitchen at parties. I set sail in a small canoe, pushing through the water. Alone, I reviewed get along. Love is nice, but it’s not entirely necessary. The moon sank into the clouds, hiding its light. Darkness the situation. Feeling the isolation, my mind became clearer. Pain can be a catalyst for thought. I lay down in the covered me. In the middle of the lake, I was overcome by fear. Over the black water, I could see nothing but the canoe, resting my head, my neck on its ridged lip. My feet were dragging through the water, making moon-lit fire. I wanted to be closer to the group, now more than ever. My own search for love had been like a process ripples that drifted back to the shore. Neither completely awake nor asleep, I contemplated why I felt alone in all of elimination – exploring unknown avenues until I think I have found what it is, without entirely understanding of our togetherness. I watched them from my position afloat and could have almost guaranteed that through all ‘it’ beforehand. I think of it as a way to connect me to others and fill an emotional void. But then that’s not the love the laughter, each of the people on that river bank felt as distant as me – even me in the middle of the lake. What I knew as a child. My introduction to love was from my parents. They loved me. Not for who I was or for what I have we misunderstood about love? I dwelt on what I knew of love and where it came from. I heard someone could do. They loved me for the very fact that I existed. Love was, because I was. Like a hatchling, I knew them say once that it is impossible to love without giving. I recall previous lovers, casual and serious, the things we had as my only source of love and trusted them with my entirety. Stemming from this love, I was connected to my done together, proving our love to one another. Still our relationships changed and love no longer existed between brothers and sisters – we were a family. Our love existed because we’re all utterly dependent on our parents. Their us. Was that love – real love? Can love be so fleeting? Love songs are endless in their creation – they prove I’m not love for us is what tied us together. I thought of how much the lives on the shore would benefit if they were a part the only one stuck on the heart of love. Track after track, bleeding hearts reminisce of the one who got away, the of something more than just a fire on a river bank. If we found the source of love, we’d never feel alone or sepaone who wasn’t the one and the one who should have been. Does love exist only between two people? Having rate. I found myself overwhelmed by the idea of a world brought together by the same infallible truth. Imagine floated quite far from land, I panicked a little. I looked back at the group on the shore. In the warmth and light of us all finding love like that of a father. The way a father’s love is meant to be. Dawn began to approach. Above the fire, there was a gentle reminder of how we came together. If it weren’t the fire that brought us, we’d have me, the moon and stars had disappeared and the sun was rising. I found warmth and light again, brighter than come together to watch a film or eat a meal. In all communities exists more than just a group of individuals in before. More awake than asleep, I paddled back to the shore. Quietly, I rejoined the group. I understood our being one place. We are drawn to each other by something. I start to believe that there’s something more – something there. Love chose effortlessly, it gave endlessly. It only had to be acknowledged.

Everybody wants to know exactly what it says I know there’s someone after it because I’ve heard their plans They hear stories all about a journey through a book I need to duplicate this love so they can have a look

electrifying

You see it all had started when stranger left this piece Of written work before me, there it lay beside my feet I knew this person had not written what it was I held But as I read, everything inside of me did melt The book was red and very old, the pages very thin And slowly yet, my awareness started to kick in I had to keep it safe until more copies were at hand But we can all agree my work with that was more than grand

And so I climbed a sturdy rock and stared into the clouds They froze just high above the waters, grey and black laid out They made the grass and trees much greener, and the waters stir Then they started lighting up, their voices loud and heard

Back now where I had begun, my heart hitting the dirt I dragged my languid steps and hid behind the furniture There I sat with absolutely nothing left to say I held my phone but still there was no voice I’d hear today For the world felt very empty and not just my neighborhood Yet I was hiding from those who would rob my every good I felt their presence zero in, I felt myself give up And in this situation there is no such thing as luck

Reflections of arms touching the sea They stayed upon the water for two minutes, maybe three I saw it all high upon the rock of mossy stone I needed somehow more than just a look to feel at home Still I asked and gathered who I hoped would help me duplicate Some said “yes” and with their lives chose to dedicate There was one who tried to rip a page out from the book I stopped him, asking once again if he could stay and work I watched him as he left the room, he took a group of friends The sky was growing darker and we needed to begin

post ripping incident

I had put the book away post-ripping incident And after both my eyes embraced the backs of those who split I thought of how I would react if someone taught me love I’d have to read it for myself, that which felt unheard of

But in that place behind the couch I noticed something small. Just as I was about to say, “There is no hope at all”. It was a piece of paper with a few words on its face. It said, “ Don’t worry, everything is going to be okay.”

But time was running short! There was a bit of urgency I waved my hand about where I had chosen to believe I’d left the book

But nothing felt so empty as my soul did then For it was gone, I’d lost it, there was nothing in my hand I frantically retraced my steps and tangled all my thoughts I managed to ignore the fact that everyone had gone Any minute now those who desired for the book To be in their corrupt agendas knew just where to look I heard the drumming in their song, I knew that they were close And even though I’d lost the book, I hid behind the hope That one day I’d embrace the maker of these precious words Though I didn’t choose them, they found me at my worst

I felt okay, when suddenly a hand reached out and seized The paper from my palm, I knew it was the enemy The book with the red cover I believe is missing now That piece of paper torn out, that I found behind the couch

They hovered there but at that moment one of them fell dead! And in that moment I was sure of what that paper said My shoulders back, my head held up, I was unafraid And held those words within my heart and head: it’s all okay.

love is / issue one / www.awakenthislove.com

by Saxon Griese A funny thing happened to me the other day at work. The guy across from me sends me an email asking if I The grunge movement was genuine. It brought people together. It ignited an international identity that the wanted a coffee, as he was going downstairs. “Long black”, I replied verbally. “Done”, he writes back, and heads world’s youth could connect to and define themselves by. It left a legacy. off. Five minutes later, he returns and hands me a flat white. “I asked you for a long black…” Logic kicks in and So what does new media give us? What is new media? he is defensive, “Well you should’ve replied to the email bro…I would’ve had it on my phone then.”

New media is interactive technology. Like all successful innovations, it engages you and allows you to

There are a million things I want to say back at this, but I guess it makes sense really. So I stay calm. I get interact with others. It gives us a sense of intimacy, although technology adds a subtle difference. It gives philosophical. I think of the wider questions this asks of technology and its impact on society. In reality, my us intimacy without having to get intimate. It takes away the intensity from the sometimes overwhelming colleague is justified. He is just one of many who have discovered the radiance of communication tech- experience of face-to-face social interaction. It lets us share our highs and our lows from the safety of our nology. Armed with this tool, he uses ‘new media’ to cross a thousand political, ideological and religious own room. It gives us the experience of letting people into our worlds, to discover who we truly are, crossdivides. But where is my long black?

ing geographical and other divides like never before. It opens up the universe.

MySpace was understandable. It created, and then fulfilled, a need for communication that went beyond But do we now know each other better than we did before? Is society closer? Has technology broken MSN instant chat and didn’t require the same investment as a blog. It allowed people to ‘express’ them- through the archaic social divides of the past and knit together the core of humanity? Have people truly selves. Facebook took this and floated it amongst the uni crowd and out in front of the young adults who discovered one another? Or have we only discovered what we choose to tell each other? were starting to feel a little old for MySpace. Now Twitter has come along, allowing us to post our every There is a pressure now on meaningful existence that didn’t exist before. What started as a more efficient thought and update everyone and anyone on every single action we take, no matter how trivial. Twitter’s way to communicate has birthed the concept of a new audience. Having an audience motivates you to limited capacity for posting photos and images has taken the emphasis off people trying to look good on- perform, and a performance is rehearsed. Online, we can be anyone we want to be. Communication has line – instead, they have to think of something to say, placing the importance back on language.

become disconnected from physicality and therefore, a little disconnected from reality.

Whether you’re a fan of new media or not, it must be accepted that as a medium of communication, it is There is no doubting the power of new media or communication technology. It is the future. It leads us entirely relevant and truly representative of a generation. MySpace, Facebook and Twitter are all genuine into new and exciting territories and expands our capabilities. New media is the catalyst of any significant expressions the surrounding culture... they are both child and creator simultaneously.

movement these days and is one reason why making poverty history is becoming more and more of a

They are the children of a world that worships technology but resents what it cannot fully control. Technol- reality. It is a powerful platform from which we step from ignorance into light. It is the weapon by which ogy has led humanity through our fastest century and our most destructive wars. The conclusion up until this generation will change the world. now has been to go with the flow. And we as a younger generation, being products of our environment, There is a sharper edge of the sword however. New media makes our generation the ‘global’ generation. have now taken this flow and, over time, channeled it into a language. From the humble beginnings of Yet what binds us together globally also has the potential to disconnect us locally. I can, for example, email and mobile phones, through MSN instant chat and text messaging to the Facebook and Twitter of speak to someone in China but not know my next-door neighbour’s name. The implications of this are today, this language has grown into an international form of communication. New media pervades every significant. The Roman Empire fell because its capital was weak. There was no personal connection that sector of society and the challenge is whether we can keep up with the current, or get swept away. So what kept its people united. is the head and tail of this phenomenon? Does it bind us together, or pull us apart?

Love is, by expression, personal. It is the warmth gained from the light of another’s actions. It is the smile

The grunge movement of the nineties posed the same question. Bored of business suits and Cold Wars, tired that is not a word. It is the touch that is not a photo. Technology cannot replace time spent with someone… of the eighties and its New Romanticism, the kids of Seattle took off their shoes and brought out cheap gui- humans have five senses for a reason. tars. Not so much a rebellion as an expression, they defied the extremes of the Reagan and Thatcher years. But let’s not get carried away. The argument is not that technology is bad or that new media is flawed. The Sleeping in abandoned warehouses, they wrote obscure poetry on the backs of train tickets and released argument is how we use it. Technology can only go as far as we let it. We must always ask what technology pointedly sarcastic songs such as Smells Like Teen Spirit. They made dirty flannelettes and old denim cool is for and how we can use it dynamically. New media is a road ahead. It is the language of an online genand now, more than a decade later, we can’t get rid of them. They made stubble sexy and now most self- eration. But we cannot forget what makes us human. We need to remember that an instrument is defined respecting males have beard trimmers to perfect that very specific I-haven’t-shaved-since-Tuesday look.

purely by the person that plays it. It is the dog that wags the tail, not the other way around.

findin

the

Prin

Top Left: Hat Grandma Takes a Trip / Shirt Zoo Emporium / Braces Cream on Crown / Shorts Zoo Emporium / Shoes Grandma Takes a Trip / Top Middle: Collar Alannah Hill / Jacket Max / Top vintage piece / Pants Illionaire / Shoes Zu / Necklaces vintage piece / Bottom Middle Eunice: Dress Grandma Takes a Trip / BOOTS Grandma Takes a Trip / ARM CUFFS Alannah Hill / Mason: shirt Cream on Crown / Shoes vintage piece / jumper Cream on Crown / BOW TIE Zoo Emporium / Far Right: Shirt Cream on Crown / Jeans Nudie / Bow Tie Câ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Flashback / Shoes vintage piece

love is / issue one / www.awakenthislove.com

Photographer Paul Hardwick www.paulhardwick.com.au

Creative director/Stylist Rachel Kean www.rachelkean.com Hair Chloe Peters Make Up Kelly Taylor Assistant Photographer Simon Whitbread Production Assistant Adele Chard Models Mason Mulholland & Eunice Ward from Chadwicks Special thanks to Di and Pete at Number 10.

nce

Top Left Mason: Shirt Plasid Apparel / PANTS Illionaire / VEST Grandma Takes a Trip / Shoes Plasid Apparel / HAT+BELT stylist’s own / cuffs Alannah Hill / collar Max / Alannah Hill cuff worn as neck piece / Eunice: Coat Grandma Takes a Trip / BLowse vintage piece / Pants Illionaire / boots Grandma Takes a Trip / Top Right: Body suite Grandma Takes a Trip / Bow tie stylist’s own / pants Max / Bottom Left: shirt Plasid Apparel / vest Grandma Takes a Trip / Jacket vintage piece / cuffs Alannah Hill / Alannah Hill cuff worn as neck piece / Bottom Right: coat stylist’s own / Tights+BOOTS+BODY SUITE Grandma Takes a Trip

love is / issue one / www.awakenthislove.com

Mason: Jacket Grandma Takes a Trip / Shirt Nic Green / Tights American Apparel / Boots Marsu / Belt Max / Tie vintage piece / Eunice: Dress Grandma Takes a Trip / Belt worn as necklace - Alannah Hill / Shoes Zu

love is / issue one / www.awakenthislove.com

by Bernadette Chapman

I sit here staring at my laptop and the soy chai latte I’m holding in my hands. It’s something I’ve done a bars where 20 or more underage girls dance in front of men who decide which one of them he will pay a hundred times before, but today I’m sitting and screaming on the inside. I am screaming because of the pittance to give him oral sex later in the corner. I heard the whispers of a man asking what looked like a faces I have seen, the lives I have cried over and the new feelings of frustration that have hijacked my life. 10-year-old in heels and a mini skirt whether or not she was a virgin and how much she would cost for a I’m starting to feel sick of all the stuff. All the things we buy to feel like we’re in touch with the world. All night’s entertainment. I saw the terror in her eyes – not knowing if she would be hurt tonight. How distant the music we try to keep up with and supposedly like. All the clothes we wear to fit the new trends. It’s like my own childhood seemed. we buy to feel like we’re not missing out. Maybe because we see nothing else to spend our money on, or I think of her story. She may have been taken from her family at the outskirts of Cambodia, maybe only perhaps we buy because there’s nothing else we hold as a higher priority.

three days earlier. Perhaps her parents arranged a “Mama-san” or pimp to journey with her on her way

But I can’t help but feel as if my priorities are changing.

to what she thought was a better life. Instead, she woke up caged in a dark room in the basement of a

Cambodia’s to blame. It wasn’t until my reality of the world was met face-to-face and somewhat forcefully brothel. Chanthol Oung, the director of the Cambodian Women’s Crisis Centre believes that around 50% with the culture of Cambodia that things began changing. One trip to a third world country and I’m consid- of the young women who have been sold into brothels in Cambodia were sold by someone they knew. In ering selling every item I own. One trip and I’m questioning whether or not I have it in me to leave my life November 1997, police raided one of these brothels, and 439 women and children were rescued. Half of and walk the streets of Phnom Penh to save a nameless face from a night of rape, abuse and constant fear. those saved were sent to the crisis centre, where interviews revealed that 86% had been tricked or sold Cambodia is a nation of absolute diversity. Extreme poverty and defenceless beggars contrast against the into prostitution. Hummer-driving, label-wearing government officials. Innocence is found in the midst of peak hour where And it all goes unnoticed, and often unchallenged. you catch a glimpse of a small child running through the streets followed by his mother. It’s found on the We seek after so many things for ourselves – relationships, clothes, careers. But what is it all for? For oursoil doorstep of a cardboard shack nestled amongst swamp land, where a young father – not worried selves… but then what? What happens if we continue to seek after the next desire of our hearts and never about his flimsy house – tickles, cradles and sings to his newborn baby.

find what we truly ache for? I have seen the ads of starving children with bloated bellies petitioning me to

During my trip, I became accustomed to a culture that once seemed so obscene to me. I couldn’t under- give money. I am moved, but I don’t act. It’s like I distance myself from the reality of what most of the world stand how the Cambodian people could still smile and laugh when most of them were getting a few dollars faces every day – what the majority of our age group suffers through. The picture, like a violent movie seen to work long hours every day for a month. Their lives seemed so foreign. But I soon realised that we’re not too many times, slows down but still remains blurry. Is the reason behind our apathy the fact that we are so different – they, like us, are people longing for a good life, one filled with family, love, hope.

overwhelmed by the problem? Or is it that we have forgotten what it feels like to weep for another, to love

It was this realisation that made me angry. I began to see the innocence that had been stolen from so many them before ourselves? young girls and boys. I saw firsthand the dark alleys the children of Cambodia work in, lifestyles they had As Leigh Ramsey, founder of She Rescue Home in Cambodia, observes, “To succumb to the enormity of been sold into without choice but with an obligation to pimps and ‘clients’ to sell their bodies. I smelt the the problem is to fail the one.” And I’m just not sure if that’s good enough.

by John Bishop “You are a hypocrite.” These are the words asked me the same question she was ask- was my story that Saturday in Portland. The now. I miss the opportunity in front of me. slow down enough to see people, to help I heard God speak into my heart about a ing everyone who was passing by, “Excuse old adage is true – people do not care what I miss the person who just needs to know them out when they need it? Is it really that decision I made a few weeks ago in Port- me, do you have any extra money for bus you know until they know that you care. But they matter. I can plan so much that I can hard? You can’t change the past. I couldn’t land, Oregon. Not a comforting observation fare?” I didn’t even think about it, I just re- what is caring? What is love? The kind of plan love right out of my life. I see so much take the words back that I so flippantly said when you happen to be a pastor who has sponded straight away with “No.” As I look love I’m talking about is the kind shown (or and yet sometimes fail to see anything at all. to that girl. But what I could do and what I committed his life to loving and serving oth- back on those few seconds, I realise now not shown) when you see someone in need. did do, was change. As I heard those words ers. Let me backtrack. It was a Saturday, that her question was met with an answer You have the ability to do something about and my wife, daughter and I were having that was probably arrogant and even rude. it, but instead, you turn a cold shoulder and lunch. I had prepared a message for our next I continued to walk toward the glass entry do nothing. In that moment, what happens church meeting and was pushing the clock doors, but did not get three steps into the to love? It disappears. And it was you who a little to get back for our 5pm service so mall when I heard the words that were made it disappear. Talk about convicting I could do the ‘right’ thing and tell people piercingly convicting…YOU ARE A HYPO- words. That floors me… it’s not what I say about God’s love. Right. After lunch, my wife CRITE. Check out the definition. Hyp-o-crite: that demonstrates love, it’s what I do about wanted to quickly go into a nearby mall, and ‘A person who pretends to be what he or what I say that demonstrates love. LOVE IS even though I was worried about the time, she is not; or one who pretends to be better COSTLY. But what we are missing is the fact I figured we could make it. As I walked into than he or she really is,’ deriving from ’the that to not love costs more. I think the truth the mall, I walked past a young, apparently one that wears a mask.’ Activity can often be is that most of us are just too busy and can’t homeless girl. She was a teenager. I can still mistaken for ministry. We can look busy and see what matters. To be interrupted and

The irony is that we never try to think this way, it’s just the result of thinking the wrong way. We don’t act because we talk ourselves out of being kind. In essence, we begin to judge and think we are better than what’s in front of us.

convicting me, I simply backed up, went and found the young girl – who, incidentally, is younger than my daughter – looked into her eyes and said, “Here’s $5… and I’m sorry that I lied to you.” It seems like lately, God is showing me that my purpose is right in front of me. It’s that one moment I have to slow down, to really see and then respond to the thing God is doing now. Love is all about action. It’s not about acting. If we aren’t loving in action, I would say we aren’t loving at

all. Be the unlikely hero. Do the one thing remember what she looked like. I can also not actually see what matters. We can say available just isn’t in the schedule. I can be We tell ourselves we shouldn’t have that is right today. Don’t worry about who remember the question she asked me and something, but it is in our actions that our so busy trying to get somewhere, or get my to help. When will we get over our- gets the credit. Slow down, and you’ll begin the words I said back to her. That day, she heart is exposed for the world to see. That agenda done that I miss where I am at right selves? When will we stop the madness and to see what matters.

love is / issue one / www.awakenthislove.com

the heart ofthe issue The world is filled with pain and heartache.

It’s likely that I lost some people with that first sentence.They may have

recoiled, flipping hastily to the next article or tossing the magazine aside altogether. Personally, I believe it’s because we all struggle to understand and feel the weight and significance of this truth. But why? Is it because we have heard that statement one too many times? Is it just old news, a broken record that keeps playing and

By Tom Muller

playing until our ears bleed? Or, perhaps it is because we have lost hope. Do we know it’s true, but see it as a problem that’s just too distant, too overwhelming? Our efforts seem futile and we remain behind a glass wall of indifference saying, “What can we do,” perhaps framed more as a statement than a question. Perhaps it is because we know the truth of this statement all too well,

we have felt it firsthand. We figure it’s best to live parallel to its effects, masking ourselves from the hurt and fleeing from the necessary But how can the pain and heartache evident in this world be so intersection that a confrontation would force us to undertake. Or is exclusive from ourselves? Perhaps it is our inexhaustible efforts it because we see a statement like that as just too pessimistic? Why to escape responsibility that encourages the pain istelf. We must state the obvious and make it worse, why contemplate the pain reconcile the truth that one, the world is painful, and two, that we are and heartache? Shouldn’t we be living life to the fullest, satisfying intrinsically linked to it. We must resolve that the problems ‘out there’ ourselves with good times and fun, ‘drinking and being merry’ as the may more accurately be evidence of a problem in us, a problem not saying goes.

just with ‘the world’ as a whole, but with our hearts.

Whatever our reaction to this statement, I believe no one can disagree Perhaps our heart is at the heart of the issue. with it completely. No matter what our worldview – be it atheism, A favourite saying among my friends and I is, “Relationships are the agnosticism, or some other belief or faith, we all struggle to reconcile cause of all our problems… and they are the answer to them, too.” this painful reality. We feel it when we read newspaper articles One way to illustrate the centrality of the heart is in relationships. It’s describing the horrific poverty and suffering of those in other nations, no surprise that the cliché symbol of romantic love is the heart. For and even in our own backyard. We feel it when we see advertisements relationships are not founded on superficial actions, or empty words. for charities illustrating people in desperate need, and when we come Love requires more than the ticking off of checklists – love requires face-to-face with homelessness in our own cities.

one’s heart. A person has not truly loved if they have not given their

Accounts of human trafficking, sex slavery, child abuse, rape, murder, heart. We may give our time, our money, our effort, but if we keep our war, betrayal, fraud and greed bombard us every day, an emotional hearts to ourselves, than all the rest is useless. Why? Because our heart onslaught that is endless and overwhelming. Pain is all around us.

is who we are. Our heart is why we are who we are – it is our true self

The other day, I was talking to a friend about her passion for the at the deepest level. Our heart is our emotional, mental, spiritual and piano. She had begun playing when she was six-years-old, but she moral core, the source of our every want and desire. It is the spring told me that she no longer played – she couldn’t. I asked why, and she from which our every action, word, thought and motive flow. It is our answered with a story from her past. Her father had sold her piano nature, our will and our very being. without her consent a while back, just one of the painful blows in a It all comes down to the heart. bitter divorce that had ripped her family apart. She hadn’t spoken to Our thoughts, deeds and words are expressions of the condition of her dad in years.

our heart. Our heart determines our actions and our reactions to the

In that short conversation, I met the issues of adultery, deceit, separation world. Our motives are flawed, and we sometimes say terrible things and hate head on. It was a moment in which I came to realise, once and act in devastatingly selfish ways. We cause pain. again, the importance of relationships, and the pain they can cause Why? Because our hearts are broken, hell bent for their own glory,

PAIN IS REAL. WE ALL SEE IT AND FEEL IT, BUT WHAT IS ITS CAUSE? PERHAPS WE SEE THE PROBLEMS WE FACE AS INEVITABLE ABSTRACT FORCES, THE CONCLUSIONS OF AN UNSOLVABLE SOCIAL EQUATION, FOR SOME TO WIN & OTHERS TO LOSE.

when they break down. I began to think about my own relationships forever twisting and folding, concerned more about themselves than and the hurt that I frequently inflict on those I love, and how, when I do others. We are innately selfish, proud and self-righteous, quick to judge hurt them, I’m always quick to fire off a list of justifications, naming the others yet resistant to blame ourselves. It is like our hearts have no sequence of events that ‘made me’ act the why I did.

affinity to others, and so we run, run from those who are hurting and

Pain is real. We all see it and feel it, but what is its cause? Perhaps we those we have hurt. Sometimes this inevitably means we are running see the problems we face as inevitable abstract forces, the conclusions from ourselves. of an unsolvable social equation, for some to win and others to lose. We Our intuition screams at us that this is not true – it’s like we have an are merely the ‘x’s and ‘y’s in a spiralling dance of cosmic mathematics. inbuilt guilt recovery system that signals to us that what we do is We tend to disassociate ourselves from the source, blaming the pain somehow separated from who we are. We see this expressed in our on the external circumstances we see, as if none of it were our fault. ‘quick-fix’ culture, one that is plagued with self-help, legalism, religion We feel like it isn’t our problem – it’s someone else’s. Or it’s someone and morality. Our culture is crying out for us to ‘just try harder’ and else’s fault, at least. Either way, we do what we can to escape personal ‘do the right thing’, a call not unlike placing a bandaid on a severed responsibility. It makes life more comfortable. I do it all the time – we artery. We relentlessly pursue efforts to reform what we do, but what all do – it seems to be a part of what makes us human.

we really need is a new heart.

food for thought

Moment of Truth by Daniel Gorter

When I look around our world today, all I see are theories of truth, interpretations of truth, but never the truth there is no absolute standard of truth, then we have no right to impose law. Nothing is punishable. There itself. I see that it’s there, but it can’t be explained or defined – it just is. But what is truth? After studying the is no power of authority. There is no basis for right or wrong. Without one truth – a unifying standard by earth through the internet, media and technology, I find that the search for truth is not unlike chasing the which everything else is measured – what’s the difference between anything? What’s the difference bewind. It is ethereal – as intangible as the air itself. It’s everywhere, but I can’t find it, I can’t touch it, I can’t tween good and bad? What’s the difference between truth and lies? What’s the difference between love taste it. Does it even matter? Does truth even make a difference? Is it even relevant? Everyone believes and hate? Nothing. They’re all just words. Nothing is meaningful – nothing is of any consequence. And that what they want to believe, and why not? The concept of truth is relative to the observer, and it seems that just doesn’t make sense. There must be a truth in which all things hold together, by which all things exist, many paths can lead to it. The world is full of so many religions, so many beliefs, so many alleged ‘truths’. and through which all things have meaning. I refuse to just ‘be’. I need a purpose. I need something that is And yet the substance of life itself is defined by what you believe – what is true to you. But surely not every greater than myself. I don’t need religion, I don’t need another explanation of the facts, I need TRUTH. Peridea can be true, not every way can be right. What about terrorists? What about criminals? Is their way the haps truth is so elusive because we can’t know something we haven’t encountered, and we all encounter right way? To them, perhaps it is. Who gets to say who’s right and who’s wrong? Do we as humans have different things. From the sandy beaches of Sydney and the high-rises of New York to the red dirt roads of the authority to define truth? If we just evolved – if, like truth, we just exist – then nothing matters. No hu- Africa and the marketplaces of India, our lives are so different. It’s here that agreement takes centre stage. man belief is of any consequence. Everything becomes random occurrence. We are purposeless, and morals What you agree with is what you believe. What you believe is what you speak. And what you speak is what are just as indefinable as truth. But it seems that morals come from truth. They define right and wrong. defines your reality. What is worth agreeing on? What is worth believing in? If we can discover the power of Without a universal truth, who’s to say rape is immoral? Who’s to say that a murderer has actually unified truth through the voice of agreement, could we actually change our cities, change our generation, done anything wrong? According to what standard of truth is something right or something wrong? If change our world? Could we actually change history – for the better?

by Joe Pringle Music has this beautiful ability in which it bypasses the brain and aims Music will try its hardest through production, lyrics and rhythm to reflection when I hear Thomas Newman’s Any Other Time or Hanz Zimstraight for the heart. It’s almost as though music has a much higher find that similar note your soul has been sending out. It will try to mer’s Elysium – they evoke a sense of bigness within me, stretching purpose than logic, so it connects with your soul, watering seeds you find that homogeneous sound it can harmonise with so peacefully. my view to see further and wider, telling me that my dreams are within never knew existed, deep below our hardened surfaces, arousing When a chord rings out within us, it attaches itself to its complemen- reach. That’s why people will pay all kinds of prices to see their favouemotions and memories back to life.

tary genre or sound. Like, if you’ve just had your heart broken, you rite band. It’s for that one moment – that one song – that chorus that

I can’t think about my childhood without hearing Dylan, Van Morrison won’t head home and stick on The Monkees I’m a believer. You’ll put will unite 100 or 1000 or 50,000 strangers. Those who have a similar or Rickie Lee Jones playing on the soundtrack. Those prolific voices on City and Colour or maybe even a bit of Celine Dion (ahem). These note within them they are so determined to find a home for. It brings set tones in my life that I still hear ringing out today. No matter how songs put a voice to the feeling calling out inside.

with it a moment of euphoria, of weightlessness.

uncool or irrelevant those voices may become, they will always strike Still, not every song has the same deep role to play in your life – And that’s the bypass. Logic is forgotten in that moment. All of a suda chord within my soul – they will always fetch an unsuspecting emo- some are just there to fill the gaps. Some might help you forget, den, your heart overflows and awakens what lay dormant. This is the tion, maybe a painful memory that I put in storage, or maybe one that others might just put a smile on your face. You can’t listen to some deeper call of music, something within us that’s calling out, being inspires me into the next phase of life. Whatever the result may be, songs without feeling a slight lift inside, even just a spark of giddi- answered by a song that shouts back to us. As Bono so aptly put it, music has a mission – whether of self-promotion or political agitation ness. Maybe that’s all we need. or perhaps simply to get you on your feet.

“There is a God-shaped hole in all of us.” We just need to know what to

Sometimes no voice is needed, just a soundtrack. I can’t help but sit in fill it with. Normally, the hole is best filled with what is missing.

love is / issue one / www.awakenthislove.com

show review

Coldplay Concert Review by Marcus Jacometti

I’m ashamed to admit that I’m the kind of mates, mates who considered themselves the driving timpani drums and the band’s song and Uncle Johnny Farnham’s You’re and even for life itself. It’s funny, I went to the show to see a good live performance, person who becomes skeptical of a band lucky and who know that if they weren’t matching uniforms with torn swatches of the Voice. that reaches the level of commercial success playing music, they would be teaching high material strapped to their arms revealed a An impressive display of lighting, media and but I left high on life, grateful for all I have. dramatic military theme. They performed at set design matched the band’s epic sound. It’s so easy to get caught up in the times of that causes entire families to swarm to a sta- school history at a small English college. dium concert in matching band t-shirts. Or There is a strong spiritual aspect to their the peak of both walkways that stemmed Paper butterflies burst from the ceiling dur- the economic climate, or feel overwhelmed whose melodies can be heard coming from performance, particularly in the new tunes, from the main stage, bringing them closer ing Lovers in Japan and floated down onto by the amount of pain that has been brought each one of the showers in my house on music with an epic Eno sound that reaches to the audience. Here they launched into the crowd. You couldn’t help but be capti- by natural disasters in Australia this year. But any given morning. It seems that no one is for something much bigger than what we a techno dance remix of their tracks, com- vated by the giant projected orbs that de- when the lyrics of Death and All His Friends more surprised and conscious of the interna- c a n see. One Sydney concert-goer said, tional frenzy their music has caused than the

“I met God in the church, had

spiritual

plete with laser show. At one point the scended from the ceiling, filled lights were shut off,

leaving

the crowd chant-

i n g

in the darkness.

Sud-

were chanted by the electric arena of thou-

with live footage of

sands: ‘I don’t want to battle from beginning

the band’s faces.

to end, I don’t want a cycle of recycled re-

During

Yellow,

venge, I don’t want to follow death and all

giant confetti-

of his friends,’ there was a shared feeling

members of Coldplay themselves.

but

After seeing them on the Viva La

experience

Vida tour, I was left with no question

went to see Cold-

denly a spot light

in my mind as to why they are cur-

play.” Coldplay are at

peared

rently the biggest band in the world.

the top of the list of

back of the arena;

balls

The honesty in their performance and

bands like Cold War

and

the crowd of 20,000 transfixed faces

Kids, Sigur Ros, Snow

climbed up on a secret

onto the

ing. As Coldplay took their final bow,

created an electric atmosphere that won’t

Patrol, The Fray, Kings of

stage in the middle of

crowd,

the last of the paper butterflies

soon be forgotten. Finishing with Life in

Leon, Arcade Fire, and

the crowd to perform

soon popped

dropped from the ceiling, and the

Technicolor II, I was left so moved; I kind of

U2 who would probably

an acoustic set, cover-

with car keys,

audience was left with the knowl-

floated out with the rest of the crowd, no at-

never categorise them-

ing The Monkees I’m a

teeth

and

edge that if you look hard enough,

tempt to be cool about what I just saw.

selves as part of the box of

Believer.

other sharp in-

there is beauty in every second of every day of our lives.

when

near

the

four

ap-

the lads

filled

yellow

in the crowd, a feeling of unity, an aware-

were

ness of something bigger, something that

unleashed

seemed to be behind all that is happen-

The thing that stuck with me as I was driv-

organised religion. But they

As a performer, Chris Mar-

struments. To-

ing home was how humble and realistic they

openly show an understanding

tin gave his all. He flew

ward the end

were about the whole process. It was as of some higher power that exists in the

around the stage with his

of the song, in

though lead singer Chris Martin was almost universe, alongside a desire to use music

awkward limbs sprawling in all

perfect synergy, a

nervous when he stepped onstage and said, to reach out and touch it.

directions, all while staying total-

was kicked toward Chris Mar-

“Whoa, it’s a really big crowd… that’s a lot The performance began with a gauze

ly connected to the audience. They tin

ball

who exploded it with the neck

of people.” Where they could have taken an screen, similar to live Sigur Ros shows, weren’t a band of rock stars who couldn’t of his guitar on the last chord. attitude of we’re-touring-for-our-new-Brian- which separated band and audience, onto care less about which city they were in, Though I was at the last of five Sydney perEno-produced-double-album-Viva-La-Vida- which their silhouettes were projected. This instead, they were conscious of the Austra- formances, not once did it feel like Coldplay so-yeah-we-do-deserve-crowds-like-U2- dropped after the first song, exposing a giant lian audience, dedicating songs to the vic- were just doing their duty. Rather, it felt as and-the-Beatles-had, they didn’t. Instead, version of the French Revolution war paint- tims of the Victorian bushfires and perform- if they had an attitude of complete gratitude Coldplay presented themselves as four ing from the Viva La Vida album cover. This, ing crowd-pleasing renditions of a Wiggles’ for everything that has happened to them –

Art & the Heart by Elli Mundell

In art, a dichotomy exists between creativity and technicality. Technicality tion of Renaissance skill paralleled is self-explanatory, but creativity is inexpressible. Don’t get me wrong – my regard for the intellect, and my people can express creativity, but creativity itself cannot be expressed; it ignorance of contemporary creativecannot be defined. I suppose, in a broad sense, if technicality is born of the ness coincided with my ignorance of mind, then creativity flows from the heart…

the heart. However, notwithstanding

As I was scrolling through eBay one afternoon, the auction of a small hand- my previous adoration of technicalmade book caught my eye. It was made by Syd Barrett (from Pink Floyd) ity, I now truly believe that the heart at the age of 18 or 19, for his school friend Andrew Rawlinson. The book is the nucleus of art; that creativity was titled Fart Enjoy. It’s basically 12 pages of unrelated text and images. It is where it all begins. Creativity is includes a story about ‘Lieutenant Lunch Date’, a list of synonyms relating translated from the heart through to ‘the divided self’, a fictitious letter from ‘mum’ and a textbook explana- the medium of the intellect. Inteltion of ‘floral structures’. Each is cocooned in magazine cut-outs and hand- lect is more of a messenger, and the painted images. I particularly enjoyed the page with a childlike painting of a heart’s creativity is the message itboy beneath the words “Hark! Jack was diddlty dumpty all jolly to market self. If the heart is the emotional facto buy a plum cake.”

tory of the soul, then its emotions

For me, Fart Enjoy helps uncloak the mystery of creativity through staunch certainly generate creativity. paradox. It’s founded in convention, but not bounded by convention. It’s Creativity makes me happy. I can’t honest and fictitious. It’s innocently naughty. It’s silly. It’s serious. Its fra- help but love Syd’s book. His poem grance is bitter, yet its flavour is sweet. It’s overtly covert. It’s virginal, but on page 7 “Sprat locket patch, lift not alien. It’s recycled contemporaneity. It’s moulded by idiosyncrasy and the latch, Johnny shall have a new mired in universalism. It’s a nonsensical brainiac. It’s a sensible maniac. It bonnet,” makes me smile, and his dabbles with the mind, but resides in the heart.

Fart Enjoy title makes me laugh. I

Fart Enjoy made me really question the rateability of art. I’ve always ad- suppose Fart Enjoy also touched the mired the technical genius of Renaissance art and disliked the lack thereof hearts of Syd’s frenzied fans... the in postmodern art (both are generalisations). However, these generalisa- book sold for A$26, 274. If creativity tions ignore the existence of creativity, which I associate more so with is the language of the heart, then I contemporary art than conventional art. It dawned on me that my admira- guess art can never be too talkative.

artist feature Mason Mulholland

1. If my art style was a TV show it would be...a mixture between - Skins, The Mighty Boosh, are…Adidas black and white Gazelles, only shoes I’ll ever need to wear. 15. If I were Top Gear, Fashion TV, Entourage and Art Attack all rolled into one. 2. I would love to do to inspire a fragrance, it would be called…”P.P.ERFUME” or ‘SCENE!- by Jamie Hall’. an artwork for…Brett Whiteley. 3. I find my inspiration…from a guy named JAMIE HALL 16. I am most frustrated when… people say Joaquin Pheonix has lost it! The guy is - scenest guy i know haha. 4. The songs that best describes my art are…Tears for Fears - a pioneer. 17. Jamie Hall - the guy’s just so good at being SCENE! Like he’s a DJ, he Everybody Wants to Rule the World and Cut Copy - Future. 5. The best advice my dad gave wears wayfarers and acid wash jeans and works at City Beach. He’s so original! No me…’Dont eat the yellow snow’. 6. My charity of choice is…A charity that helps artists sur- one else in Sydney does that... do they?! I wish I could be like him! Ahahaha USSSSI vive while trying to pursue their passion. 7. The strangest thing I ever ate was… I can’t tell 18. My worst habit is…stealing people’s pens, I never realise I’m doing it. 19. In my you the strangest! haha, but I can tell you the second in line - cobra worms - They’re a type refrigerator you would find…Anything from Balgowlah Heights deli. 20. A family traof grub that live in damp dead wood on the river’s edge, My Aboriginal mate cooked them dition I will keep is…giving my children triple M initlials. 21. My DVD collection conup for me while fishing in Yamba. They didnt taste too bad. 8. I’m always drawing… faces. sists of…’Difficult Pleasures - a film about Brett Whiteley’, ‘Basquiat’, ‘Dogtown and 9. When I was five I wanted to be…Captain Planet. 10. My favourite time of day is…1am. Z-boys’, ‘Into the Wild’, ‘Justice - Across the Universe’ and ‘Hook’ to name a few. 22. 11. Something I’ve said I’ll never do again, but probably will… go to the Cross. 12. In high If I could be remembered for one thing it would be…P.P.ioneering a new amazing art school they should have taught… how to sling web. 13. I am most myself when… I am in movement or ‘ism’....”P.P.ISM”? the ocean, I have gills. and when I’m arting. 14. My ultimate shoes (or house or location etc)

Street Fashion by

street fashion

Artist Feature 1. If my art style was a TV show it would be...I’d like to say Carnivale...but my art probably isn’t that ecclectic or complex. 2. I would love to do an artwork for...Charles Saatchi (renowned art collector). He’d make again. 12. In high school they should have taught me…to study less. 13. I am most myself when…I’m with me an instant millionaire.3. I find my inspiration...In the genius of other artists like Carravagio, Théodore my boyfriend. I’m surprised he’s still with me. 14. My ultimate house or location is…A holiday house in Géricault & Jacques-Louis David. Artists like these set a standard that seems almost unreachable, so the Paris. 15. If I were to inspire a fragrance, it would be called…Fart Enjoy. 16. I am most frustrated when... inspiration is infinite. 4. The song that best describes my art is...I’d like to think my art is an amalgamation people can’t understand my explanations or theories. I hate explaining things twice. 17. The person I am of different genres, but it’s pretty monotonic in style. It reminds me of the music of Tom Waits. 5. The best most in awe of is... Probably Antonio Canova, namely for his sculpture ‘Cupid & Psyche’. It’s incredible; advise my mum gave me... “Think outside the square” 6. My charity of choice is... The Wesley City Mis- I can’t fathom how it was carved from a single block of marble. 18. My worst habit is...playing with my sion. 7. The strangest thing I ever ate was… I’m boring when it comes to trying new food(s). I guess the eyelashes/eyebrows when i’m studying. 19. In my refrigerator you would find...Capsicum, mushrooms & tuna & banana sandwich I had in Fiji was strange, & so was the chicken & fruit stew I had in France. They Cadbury Creme Eggs. I could live (happily) off these alone. 20. A family tradition I will keep is...A family were both delicious. 8. I’m always drawing...people. They’re the most interesting subjects. 9. When I was tradition (established by my mum) is liking Pink Floyd. I have no choice but to keep this tradition, otherwise five I wanted to be...I don’t remember being five. I probably wanted to be an artist...but my mum recalls she’d probably disown me. 21. A family tradition i will not keep is...Making salmon mousse at Christmas. a time when I wanted to be a salmon. 10. My favourite time of the day is...Whatever time uni finishes. 11. It’s rancid. 22. My DVD collection consists of...I honestly only own two DVDs: Edward Scissorhands & The Something I’ve said I’ll never do again, but probably will…I told my mum I’d never buy a 1940’s fur coat Rocky Horror Picture Show.

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