PIE Issue #1 by Rosie Catalano

This Pie is a gift for you to savour and share!

CONTENTS: Photography/ KerriAnne Pink.............................................1 Waste/ Maisie.....................................................................3 Drawings/ Dennis Pomales.................................................5 Shoot The Player/Amelia Tovey & Jonathan Wald................7 Waste & War/Shiela Thomson............................................12 Flaubertâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Revenge/Maisie.................................................13 Photographs/Cara Stricker................................................17 Pop[Kulture]Tart/Rosie Waterland.....................................19 Vox Pops/Mel B.................................................................24 You Are a Regurgitator/ Irnin Khan....................................26 Memory Hoarding/Stephanie Nuzzo..................................27 Memory Image/Joseph Colubriale....................................28 Pretty as a pickle/Mary-Helen Daly..................................29 YadaYadaYada/Maisie.......................................................30 KINO/Matt Ravier.............................................................31 Illustration/Annie Cohen..................................................34 FLIM-Waste/ Richard Adams............................................35 Drawing/Sam Bowron.......................................................39 Rosie Catalano..................................................................41 Raw apple pie/Annie Cohen..............................................45 Review:Anti-christ/Andrew Buckle....................................47 Palindromes/Arghya Gupta...............................................49 On this day........................................................................51 If I was in 2D/Maisie........................................................54 Your week ahead/Maisie...................................................58

Waste I had chosen waste as the suggested topic of inspiration for this issue of Pie before I realized I was moving house. I found as the process of shifting my life from one place to another began that it was a concept at the forefront of my mind. What fragments of my past did I want to discard/save/destroy/re-use? I said goodbye to magazines, useless trinkets (how did I even get those?), almost new [but hideously ugly] running shoes, and our couch, which has obligingly been host to numerous visitors including humans, cockroaches and maggots. However, also being a self-diagnosed hoarder, I couldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t let go a whole lot more than I managed to chuck out; old uni assignments, collections of fabric that will never be used, relics preserved from concerts and overseas travel, and clothes I havenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t worn EVER. I engaged in the process of street dumping; relegating my detritus to the sidewalk as is so often done in these suburbs (high % per capita of share houses), where inevitably other thrifty collectors will retrieve almost any household item- no matter how damaged or derelict- within a matter of hours. In wealthy neighborhoods perhaps much nicer items would stay sitting on the kerb for weeks, until the large trash pickup truck came and took them away. But here, there is a use for everything. 3

While living in this house, the inhabitants and I had also engaged in the business of collecting street junk. We managed to salvage a lounge, television, outdoor table and chairs, a shoe shelf, a painting, records, magazines, books, a touch lamp, a night-work construction light, a plastic sword, and several decorative items which all found pride of place in our modest and eclectic home. Life seems to go in cycles; we move in, we buy, we accumulate, we find, we change, we sell, we move out and we produce a hell of a lot of waste doing it. But I am glad that some things find a new home, just like us. To invoke the old adage, one man [or woman’s] trash is another man [or woman’s] treasure, and that’s just how it ought to be- especially as we all become more aware of how our existence impacts our environment. I say, in the interests of the planet and inextricably our-selves, why not make use of someone else’s discarded treasure? Why not fix something that’s broken, instead of buying a new one? Why not give something away, instead of throwing it away? Why not, indeed…

PIE is printed on recycled paper.

SHOOT THE PLAYER

is an ongoing film project initiated by Amelia Tovey and Jonathan Wald. They shoot off-the-cuff, one take music videos with musicians in public places, catching spontaneous and comic Moments. Go to www.shoottheplayer.com to catch Kaki king in Hyde park, Lightspeed champion in a kings cross porn shop, or Sara Blasko in a tattoo parlour...

about the technology has been steep and it feels like we’re always needing to learn new things to make the best quality films.

How long have you been doing Shoot The Player music videos? Amelia: Shoot The Player started in October 2007. We began by filming our friends like Jai from The Paper Scissors and Des Miller. Then we filmed friends of friends like Belles Will Ring and a few other local acts and it really grew from there. French filmmaker Vincent Moon inspired the project and put us in touch with Andrew Bird and The National who he had filmed in Paris.

So some of the work has been informally divided up. Amelia tends to be the more social of us - she has more connections with musicians and is really great at making them comfortable on a shoot. And I tend to do more of the technical stuff. But there aren’t any hard and fast roles - like Amelia says, we make it up as we go.

What’s your working relationship like?

When did you first start thinking about the possibility of an exhibition?

Amelia: We work collaboratively and make it up as we go. We usually turn up to a shoot and just decide on the spot who’s going to do what. One person films, one person makes sure the band is ok and checks out the location. The person who films usually edits but all the cuts are signed off on together. We work quite separately and have different aesthetics, often we totally disagree on what works, but the end result is always a combination of our work and it’s the better for it.

Amelia: CarriageWorks approached us about a year ago but the timing wasn’t right. When they came back to us again we were keen to have the installation during Sydney Festival when we knew the foyer would be full of people excited about art and Sydney. We also knew that those people would be an entirely different audience for us and that was exciting. Jonathan: We had shown our films in a non-internet environment once before - at a Sydney nightclub. And it was good, but there was no sound, and it was a lot of work figuring out how to move the videos from online to DVD or projection. We weren’t sure at all that an exhibition would work - though we definitely hoped that it would.

Jonathan: On one level the project seems very simple - after all, it’s one take, no editing, upload to some websites, how much work could it be? And it’s true we don’t have much equipment, and don’t have to spend a lot of time with things like fundraising or applying for permits or trying to arrange for distribution. But it actually is very complicated. There’s a huge amount of prep work that goes into getting musicians on board and arranging shoot times and locations and the learning curve

Why Carriageworks? Amelia: CarriageWorks is known for it’s urban, industrial interior. It has a brief recent history of showcasing theatre, dance, contemporary performance, music, visual art and video art - it really was the perfect place to showcase Shoot The Player which doesnt easily fit in any category. Our films are designed for a user navigated experience; watch, look away, fast forward, go back, check email, come back, choose another one etc. In a cinema, the experience of watching them on a loop might be frustrating; in the CarriageWorks foyer you can come and go and interact with them like you might online - and it works. CarriageWorks also has a great relationship with TDC who provided the screen and the films would just wouldnt have shown up so well if projected another way. What is it about one-take music videos that you love? Amelia: The challenge of creating something beautiful in an uninterrupted, unrehearsed and spontaneous live environment can be incredibly rewarding; the idea that mistakes can happen and you just have to roll with them is also really exciting. Jonathan: The fact that we can be making them all the time. Most filmmakers don’t spend very much time making films. We’ve shot more than a hundred clips already, which is great. And it’s a real honour having these amazing musicians play for us in such an intimate way, and sharing that with people around the world.

How do you approach artists/ are there many people who don’t want to be involved? Amelia: We usually try to contact bands through myspace or other bands, if they’ve already seen some of our films that helps. We find that bands who are in Australia for the first time are more likely to want to do it, local bands are usually pretty keen we have a lot of them approach us. If bands don’t want to do it it’s usually because their schedules don’t allow it which is fair enough; sometimes we just rock up after their shows and try anyway. Jonathan: Some people don’t feel like their music would work in this format, which we completely understand. It’s really going to be a different thing, a different piece of art, than what they’d produce on stage, or on a CD. They make peace with the ocean sounds, or traffic, or screwing up in the middle. And that’s not for everyone, and we respect that. What does the next year hold for Shoot The Player? Are you staying in Sydney or taking the project overseas? Amelia: Jonathan and I are both heading overseas for other projects, there are a few films I shot in the USA which we’ll release in the coming months - but who knows, everything we do is pretty unplanned. Jonathan: We have around a dozen clips that we haven’t released yet, so while we’re doing our other things, we’ll be releasing those. And we’re keen to find ways to keep the momentum going after the installation and also to challenging ourselves.

So that might mean trying to make more traditional music videos at the same time as we do STP films - or taking the installation concept to other places in Australia or around the world. Who has been your favourite or most memorable artist to work with? Amelia: The Tallest Man on Earth was very generous with us, he was an amazing artist and those films turned out beautifully. He also put us on the door that night and his show at The Hopetoun was unforgettable. Its hard to pick a favourite though, most of the artists we film we approach because we love their music, and watching them perform and unfold in front of the camera is always moving. Jonathan: Ben Lee was great. We were really tired when we showed up to the shoot, weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d done something

like 8 shoots in two weeks, and we had no idea what to do with him. So we took him to the park next to his hotel because it was easy - and when we got there, these high school girls who were at sports practice recognised him. And he is amazing in the way he is open to any situation - so he got them to do a sing-a-long in one video, and to dance around in another. I reckon it was one of the best days of their year, for those girls. Sarah Blasko was great in how she was open to trying anything - like singing in a tattoo parlour. And I loved the Dead Letter Chorus shoot, because we set up in a park, and within a few minutes, people from houses all around had come out to watch, and theyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d brought their kids, and they were dancing around. It was really lovely.

www.shoottheplayer.com

Waste and War.... On September third, 1939, England declared war against Germany. I was seventeen, (twenty-three when it finished) so you could say my ‘youth’ was spent entirely in wartime. Looking back, it was certainly a scary time, but not unhappy, sometimes wonderful. Certainly I was lucky, never to be in one of the heavily bombed areas, and I’m still struck with wonder at the way the Londoners and others carried on through endless nights of bombing. Of course, even if you weren’t being bombed, you still got the sirens and had to spend nights in air raid shelters. And then there was the rationing! First there was the food, which we were sure we couldn’t live on, but did and remained healthy. Then petrol. None for personal use. And clothing- how we coped with this is nothing short of brilliant. We darned and patched and adapted- two worn items turned into one good one! And nobody looked shabby. We young ones had to look smart at all costs, and did. And though we may have grumbled a bit, we didn’t really mind- it was a challenge. I remember one funny thing I did. One winters day, I went to work in a pair of new shoes (very precious). During the day it snowed, and by the time I was to go

home, the ground was thick with snow. I was appalled, as my shoes were suede… I ended up wrapping them in cardboard and brown paper, tied up with string, and walked home in them like that. Before the war I would have died rather than do that! Absolutely nothing was wasted. Not a scrap of food, not clothing, not paper, - not a glass or tin. Eventually the government commandeered the iron railings around gardens, schools, parks, etc… and all were turned into munitions. I often think, if we could do all these things now, we could stop worrying about climate change. Of course, there was no plastic then, and no billions of mobile phones and computers constantly being superseded. And just imagine not being able to use petrol for private cars! Apart from official rationing, other things were few and far between. We would go to great length if we heard that some shop had cosmetics, or even toilet soap. They were luxuries. And my rubber hot water bottle was the envy of all the girls in my hut (and frequently borrowed when I was on night duty). The little things we take for granted now all but disappeared.

Flaubert’s Revenge ~A short story~ Monsieur Flaubert was a gentleman of impeccable manners. He had been instructed by his father (who had been instructed by his father, who had been instructed by the nanny, incidentally…) in the ways of proper behaviour. That is, how to eat without exposing the tongue, how to relieve one-self noiselessly, and how to greet acquaintances with an appropriately angled bow of the head. Naturally, he prided himself on these fobs and twizzles, compiling a complete index of gentlemanly traits that may be required in all bounds of social interaction (and practicing them for hours before a ten foot gilt framed mirror.) Flaubert also prided himself on being a rather excellent physical specimen of Homo Erectus; perfect, but for one unfortunate flaw. He was born with one eye considerably and unexplainably larger than the other, causing no specific impediment bar social embarrassment. At the age of fourteen, however, he discovered with relief that tracing a thick circle of black make-up

around the aforementioned eye fooled everyone into believing he was wearing a peculiar chainless monocle. But Flaubert’s precisely measured and mannered life was about to be rudely interrupted, and by a filthy young swindler called Julien Francois De La Bucher, no less. Julien had also been taught by his father (who had been taught by his father, who had been taught by France’s most infamous homicidal maniac)

the tricks to the trade of money swindling; specializing in obscenely wealthy and witless citizens exactly like Monsieur Flaubert. Julien’s plan was surprisingly simple. He impersonated a distant relative of Flaubert’s- a second cousin from Marseilles called Monsieur Jean-Luc D’Aubigneand ‘accidentally’ bumped into him strolling by the Isle SaintGermain. In less than ten minutes, he had convinced Flaubert to invest ten thousand francs in an ‘ingenious’ new scheme to transform the Eiffel Tower into a five star Hotel for international celebrities.

Having discovered the truth through a typically unscrupulous butler, Flaubert instantly devised a meeting with Julien, in order to discuss the ‘particulars of their financial arrangements.’ Julien was not suspicious. He promptly

arrived at the apartment on Rue Saint-Jacques and seated himself gloatingly amongst the finery of Flaubert’s parlour. Without pause, Julien was tackled from behind by one of Flaubert’s hired thugs Claude, (who, incidentally, was a trained primary school teacher who had been unable to procure a position in any school due to his frightful ugliness, and was forced into the cruel world of hired thuggery to his infinite dismay). Claude restrained Julien’s virulent thwamping by tying his arms and legs to the chair with thick rope and gagging him with one of Flaubert’s delicate silk stockings. There was a particular instrument of torture available in France at the time, which could be obtained for a reasonable sum at any of the most perverse houses of disrepute. It was startlingly popular and was used most frequently in the enactment of fantasies relating to imprisonment and domination. Flaubert himself had no taste for such things, he had always much preferred the simpler and less time-consuming act of making love to convincing feminine-like dolls. However for his present needs, he had purchased one of these

devices, called an ‘Annihilator’, and went about securing the metal clamps and chains to Julien’s quivering limbs. “I am truly disheartened by the lack of manners with which you have obviously been so carelessly raised,” he informed Julien, whilst tightening the screws of the device around his neck. “They have lead to the subsequent actions of willful deceit towards such a fine and respectable citizen as myself, and I simply cannot stand for it.” Flaubert, satisfied with the securement of the Annihilator to Julien’s body, began twisting the heavy metal lever that tightened the clamps with a slow, crushing grind. “I hope you can see that I do not intend to offend you but rather encourage you towards a path of righteousness, through pure and proper behaviour.” Flaubert gazed with consternation into Julien’s tear-stricken, eyepopping face. In the corner of the parlour, Claude stood facing the wall, weeping silently and cursing his enormous, wart-ridden face. Julien’s expression morphed slowly from terror into confusion as he observed Flaubert’s stoic stare. He engaged his slack, bruised tongue

to form words. “What’s wrong with your eye, Monsieur?” Flaubert’s knees knocked wildly in fury. “It’s a monocle, a MONOCLE!” He cried. “Didn’t you know it’s bad luck to swindle a well bred man?!?! No? You’re a disgrace to the species!” he shrieked (with as little saliva discharge as possible). Flaubert engaged the lever with clambering fists, and constricted the clamps further until Julien looked set to combust. His head was flopping about rather pathetically and Flaubert suspected his body was flirting with the idea of giving up the ghost. He couldn’t have that. The last thing he wanted was to be lumped with a distastefully blood-smeared body to dispose of. He loosened the clamps and fetched a glass of water, which Julien sipped at with childlike clumsiness.

Flaubert cleared his throat, having somewhat regained his earlier composure. “I am not normally so presumptuous as to interrupt the important engagements of another’s day with spontaneous meetings such as this,” he sighed, dabbing at his brow. “However you must admit you are somewhat to blame in this instance.” Julien was not capable of the energy required to deliver a reply. His body slackened like wet cloth over the chair as Flaubert removed the Annihilator, and placed it gently in the bottom drawer of his antique polished oak dresser. “All one can hope for these days is a little pride and formality in the execution of ones manners. I derive innumerable pleasures from such attention to the protocol of civility, and I hope, my dear Julien, that you will excuse the vulgar fashion in which I have been forced to communicate this message to you. I can hardly bear to think of it myself.” With this, Flaubert gave a nod towards Claude, who scooped Julien up with his maladroit paws and carried him to the front door. There, he bestowed the clammy lump upon the intricate, woven doormat.

Needless to say, Julien gave up swindling then and there, but he did smile with satisfaction upon discovering that Claude- wild with disillusionment at his own miserable fate- had strangled Monsieur Flaubert in the parlour not a minute after their encounter in the apartment on Rue Saint-Jacques.

www.cara-kicia.blogspot.

Rosie Waterland I have one rule when I go to concerts: I must be sitting down. I would rather stab myself in the eye than venture into a moshpit. I’m the girl who whines about her feet hurting after twenty minutes and can’t understand why everybody won’t just sit and quietly listen. So I was psyched when I got my tickets to Lady Gaga. I was very much looking forward to watching her ridiculous fabulousness from the comfort of a seating position, free from the sweaty crowd on the dance floor. I assumed this crowd would consist mostly of pants-free 16 year olds with smudged lightning bolt make up, along with the entire staff from Supre’. So I was fairly certain I’d made the right ticketing decision. Then she double-crossed me. It may be ‘all about the fans’ and the ‘art’, but when the op-

portunity to make some extra cash became available, that bitch jumped on it faster than a blood-soaked piano (for nonfans who mightn’t understand that hilarious reference, the Lady likes to cover things in fake blood during her gigs. It shows how serious and artistic she is). She moved the concert to a bigger venue and my seating ticket suddenly became my worst nightmare: dance floor. Now, I was prepared to pay to see her. If I could get there right before the show started and take my allocated seat with a great view of, lets face it, what would probably be her privates slipping out at some point. But the

idea of standing for hours in the aforementioned crowd made me seriously question whether it was worth it. Because aside from the spectacle of it all, what’s so great

about her? I like a couple of her songs, sure. But the girl’s only released one semi-good album. I’ve read the stories about how she’s been ‘playing piano and writing songs since, like, forever.’ But we aren’t talking a Beatles reunion here. So why is everyone so Ga Ga over Gaga? Her fame has snow-balled since she burst onto the scene. She’s been called a ‘prodigy’, a ‘genius’. And she doesn’t hesitate to liken herself to Andy Warhol every chance she gets. At the Grammy’s, the stars were literally losing their shit to get a chance to talk to her. There’s a shot of Celine Dion kneeling (on the ground!) in front of her, looking up at her adoringly while the Lady passively drinks from her ever-present teacup. WTF is that? I guarantee you that Queen Celine does not kneel in front of just anyone, unless it’s her 90 billion year old husband (although I’m sure that ship has long since sailed for him). But what really made me realise Gaga hysteria had hit the roof, was her being invited to interview with President of the Earth – Oprah (upon reading this my boyfriend excitedly pointed out that Gaga had also

met the Queen of England. My reaction was less than enthused. I don’t think he understands how the earth’s human hierarchy works). Oprah is the female Jesus. What she says, is what will be. She picked the American President. And now she had picked Lady Gaga. I had no choice but to faithfully follow what my ruler had commanded. O has only a few precious shows left, so if she tells me to study my poo to see if I need to eat more peaches, then I’ll do it. But I don’t think Oprah invited her to chat purely as a fan. Oprah is cunning. And I don’t think she wanted to meet Gaga so much for her talent, but rather her hype. The crazy’s get the ratings these days, and next to Pringles, ratings are Oprah’s second language. I think O knows that Gaga is clever. So, is the dance floor worth it just to see ridiculous? Well, if the hype was good enough for Oprah…

y is n n u f is r e v e What ly ve i e t s a r m e i v ult sub s i e ok j y r e v e ie p f o d t r a r t o s s a a cu s i e k y jo t r . i n d o i a l l ebe r l a t men

el w r O e g - Geor

FASHIONABLE MOUSTACHES For the discerning gentleman

VOX-POPS! They say a mind is a terrible thing to waste. We wanted to make sure Sydneysiders brains kept ticking over, so we hit them with the following questions. Weapons of Mass Procrastination...  We’re all guilty of procrastination. What’s your very favourite time wasting activity? Waste not, want not? Other than the council mandated recycling garbage bins, do you take other environmentally friendly measures at home? Waste of space... Of the current crop of celebrities, who do you feel is the biggest waste of column inches?

...If I’m meant to be studying or doing an assignment, I’ll even do housework rather than sit in front of the computer. But usually, I’ll get hooked into reading a book, or flicking through a magazine. ... We try and make an effort to not have all the lights on in the house, and we have those energy saving light bulbs too. ... Brad and Angelina, or Brangelina or whatever they’re called. Nothing against them personally, but they’re everywhere, and I’m so over it.  24

Rosemary, 53 penrith

...Playing on my iPhone, I guess? I like to Twitter and Facebook on there as well as obsessively check emails. ... Does eating organic food count? Aside from that... not really.

Yvette, 36, Surry Hills

...Television! I’m currently addicted to the Biggest Loser, and re-watching Doctor Who. ..I turn lights out and have cooler showers, but I’m guilty of running the fans constantly because our house is so hot. ... Taylor Swift. I mean I like one of her songs but that’s about my limit, and even that’s a guilty pleasure. 25

... Katy Perry. Her ‘talent’ is nonexistent, in my opinion and I find her really offensive. I just don’t get why anyone gives her the time of day.

Frances, 25, Surry Hills

Memory Hoarding I recently took the time to go through and clean out my room. And I don’t just mean I put away the mound of clothing enveloping what once was my chair - I spent an entire day fishing through my drawers and shelves and boxes, even the space beneath my bed, attempting to separate the treasures from the junk that would soon be stuffed into the bottom of a large, black garbage bag. Rummaging through the mess, I came across a bunch of nameless keepsakes: old letters scribbled in led pencil and torn out from the back of school books, plastic toys from Happy Meals eaten, D.I.Y bookmarks, bus passes and bits of fabric – things I’d stored, and forgotten, over time. As I looked down at the pile of what I could now only call rubbish, I was saddened at the thought that I had lost all those memories that first drove me to pack away those movie tickets or that dried rose. These were once the marks of a stupid joke made in drama class, a kiss shared on a park bench, or a night spent riding in cars with

boys when meant to be sharing Tim Tams at a movie night in Hurlstone Park. Now they are just a pile of faded notes and discoloured petals. A friend once asked me, ‘If I can’t remember things that I have experienced, what’s the point of them even happening? Do they even really happen?’ To this question I didn’t really have a concrete answer. It took me a minute to process, and quite honestly, has stuck with me since... Eventually I asked her, ‘If a moment stirs a certain emotion, doesn’t that give it some kind of value? If this forgotten instant has at some point created happiness, angst or anger, it has to mean something. Doesn’t it?

All those lost kisses, and touches, and tears, those grazed knees and fits of laughter, those instances that have been left in the past, or packed into black garbage bags rather, they’re meaningful because they made you feel something, something real enough to make you want to hold onto some twodollar stuffed toy in the hope that ten years on, you just may be able to feel that same way again. And even if you can’t, you’ll always know it meant something great to you once.

In the end, I threw out almost four garbage bags of ‘junk’, most of which I didn’t even know I had. And yes, it was a little heartbreaking – It stung to see my forgotten mementos cramped into garbage bags on my front porch. Once I stepped back into my bedroom, it seemed a little empty, but hey, I guess the only way to make space for new memories is by letting go of a few older ones.

...Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m becoming one of those mothers who enters their child in beauty contests... I think iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m living out my fantasies through Pickle...

The fat Greek man in the sandwich bar in Darlinghurst bellows pearls of wisdom at whoever will listen. “I had to move out of my parent’s house, they drive me crazy with all their yell-ing. Yada yada yada! All that screaming- I say to them, you’ve been married for fifty years, when are you gonna be happy? One day I walk into the house and…. Silence! I think, they’ve finally learned to love each other. Then I see them both lying there sick as dogs with the flu and they can’t say a word! Somehow my dad still manages to communicate that mum has failed to make him something to eat. I figure, you’re gonna be miserable when you’re alone, miserable when you’re married. It makes no difference!” Some of the most valuable ideas come from people like this. Its true that they are more often than not disillusioned, bitter or insane- why else are they rambling about their ex-wife’s disturbing fetish for men’s socks? But occasionally, they couldn’t be more right.

SHOOT FIRST, ASK QUESTIONS LATER... Most people have never heard of Kino Sydney, yet our monthly short film night has been going since 2006 and now operates at capacity, welcoming 160 filmmakers and enthusiasts to each of its unpredictable evenings at Fraser Studios, behind the Clare Hotel on Broadway. Kino is something you want to climb on a rooftop and shout about, but you don’t. Kino is a secret best shared with a few of your very closest mates only: creative, adventurous people who will “get” Kino: those likely to fall for its lo-fi, DIY approach to filmmaking, more about making art for art’s sake, less about winning an award, getting 31

famous or declaring oneself (from a rooftop): “a Filmmaker”. The concept behind Kino is simple. Participants make short films specifically for the night. There are no themes or restrictions, as long as the work is under 5 minutes and screened in public for the very first time.

Kino is not just for filmmakers. Digital video has opened up filmmaking to all. Whether you’re a fashion designer or a punk rocker, an architect or a skater, an opera singer or an animal wrangler, chances are you’ve got a good story to tell. Kino’s a friendly, supportive place to do that. The aim is to free ourselves from the pressures of funding, time and professional contacts, and get in the habit of an “act now” mindset. Making a film, after all, is the best way to learn about filmmaking. Kino’s motto is simple: “Do something with nothing, do more with little, and do it now!”

Some films go on to international success on the Festival circuit, others become hits online. Some are never seen again. Because films are never pre-screened or judged, quality fluctuates. Yet – perhaps because the filmmakers have nothing to lose and no one to impress - the work is usually personal, inventive, playful. With Kino there’s always a chance to chat with the filmmakers and offer constructive feedback… or make something better yourself. The work is also surprisingly diverse. Look at most “prestigious” film competitions and the finalists seem to all follow the same formula. At Kino, styles, formats and influences mix and clash. Many different languages are spoken. Obscure subcultures are unearthed. Some go it alone, others team up.

Some come with their own ideas, others opt into one of our collective filmmaking challenges. Animation, documentary, experimental: it’s all there on the screen. Kino Sydney is part of a vibrant international movement, which started in Montreal a decade ago. There are now Kino cells around the world, from London to Hamburg, from Paris to Zagreb. It’s an opportunity to collaborate internationally and bring in foreign artists to make work locally – another chance to stir things up.

Kino blurs the boundary between the artist and the audience, encouraging amateurs to rub shoulders with professionals. It harnesses the energy, simplicity and creativity of YouTube, but brings it out of the bedroom and back into a social context. Most of all, it’s a celebration (of talent, of resourcefulness, of personal expression) to which everyone is invited. You might come 33

to watch, initially, but it won’t be long before you put your hand up to make a film. Kino also likes a party. A typical Kino night will include a screening of some 12-18 films made for the night, an open bar serving beer and whiskey, a snack bar with homemade crepes and cakes, live music performances, hula dancers and sometimes, even trapeze artists and fire jugglers.

So why not join us next Kino? Find out the next screening at www. kinosydney.com. We’ve got some cool projects lined up this year, including a special design-themed collaboration with Object gallery, and Kino Kabaret, a series of three 48hr filmmaking marathons unfolding in May. Get into it! - Matt Ravier, Artistic Director, Kino Sydney

FLIM

Richard Adams embarks on a voyage of time travel through the annals of the celluloid scrap heap... Charles Darwin, renowned evolutionary theorist and part time grower of impressive facial hair once said,

“A man who dares to waste one hour of time has not discovered the value of life.”

over simplification of problems rarely leads to their solution and Al’s primary school presentation of a very real problem did little to help the cause in the long run. Far more effective and far less well known was Jennifer Baichwal’s Manufactured Landscapes, an account of the photographer Edward Burtynsky and his desire to photograph the modern landscape, a landscape of waste. The opening image, a tracking shot which lasts for seven minutes and forty six seconds is mind numbing in its example of industry on a mass scale. Far more shocking is the footage of the e-waste, the term given to discarded technological materials, fifty percent of which gets shipped to China where they are then dumped onto the locals to sort for minimum wage. Great fields of technological refuse stretch out, forests of hard drives and an armada of computer screens and cables in tow.

Of course, ol’ Chuck didn’t have a DVD player and a video rental card so maybe our ideas of ‘time wasting’ vary greatly. Besides, film, as it turns out, has a great deal to say about the subject of waste. In actual fact, recent high profile films have primarily concerned themselves with waste in one way or another. Take An Inconvenient Truth, Al Gore’s vastly publicised self promotion video. It garnered so much enormous praise for it’s message of conservation and the dangers facing our ecology that people seemed to overlook the fact that the greatest threat to our existence was not global warming, but Al Gore’s flatulent, dull, smarmy face. The 35

The cost the planet pays for our modern lifestyle is shocking, to say the least. Of course, the subject of waste isn’t exclusive to the realm of the snobby, effete documentary watcher. Now the kids can get on the bandwagon and spend their hard earned pocket money on Pixar’s Wall-E; A film that is hard not to love due to the fact that it’s about an antiquated robot who falls in love with a flying dildo. What!? What do you mean it’s not a flying dildo? Go back and have another look my naïve friend and you tell me; robot or levitating girls best friend! Anyhoo, there being nothing that Pixar touches that doesn’t turn to gold (I’m discounting the execrable Cars from that list by the way. A story about a bunch of cars who talk and all look like they have cerebral palsy does NOT a happy movie goer make) Wall-E was a hard sell that turned out to be one of the most touching eco-movies, well, ever. Far more affecting than, oh let’s say Men At Work, starring Charlie Sheen and Emilio Estevez. I’m sorry, not only starring Emilio but also written and directed by Mister 36

Estevez! That’s right, Emilio can not only act but also hold a pen and make scribbling motions that resemble words. The story of two slacker bin men who topple the machinations of toxic polluters is not the stuff of highbrow fantasy, but i must confess, the teenage version of myself loved the film enough to see it three times in the cinema. Having said that, i should also confess that i achieved the same feat with Tom Cruise’s Cocktail, so, you know, my opinion obviously means nothing. Emilio did make up for his indiscretion however, albeit slightly, by appearing in Alex Cox’ cult classic Repo Man six years earlier. Not just a stand out for having been produced by Micheal Nesmith (the beanie wearing one from The Monkees), Repo Man also features performances by The Circle Jerks and a soundtrack featuring Iggy Pop, Suicidal Tendencies, Black Flag and Fear amongst others. That’s right kids; it’s a pogo dancing, punk skating fun fest and one of the most criminally underrated films around. Another enviro-cult classic released the same year was Toxic

Avenger, the mascot of the legendary and infamous Troma films and possibly the greatest tutu wearing, grossly disfigured and insanely violent super hero ever created. Possibly. Avenger is the story of Melvin Junko, your classic 98 pound weakling, who while being bullied by the local ‘jocks’ at the gym where he cleans, falls into a barrel of toxic waste. Of course, this turns him into a muscle bound, green skinned monster whose face resembles an upturned pavlova and the rest, well, you can probably imagine. The adventures of Toxie were so popular that they spawned three sequels (a fourth is in the works), a toy line, comic books, musicals, novels and a morning kids cartoon (what the hell were they THINKING!?!). A film with a far more focused idea of waste is Meet The Feebles, directed by now legendary Kiwi, Peter Jackson before he went Hollywood legit. Meet the Feebles has been appropriately described as ‘the muppets on acid’ and this, most literally in some parts, is right on the money. It not only features waste in the form of a brilliantly disturbing scene of a shit eating fly in action, 37

but also manages to feature a copulating walrus, a drug addicted bunny and a promise that you’ll never see Fraggle Rock the same way again. Speaking of wastED i could go on here into the movies of the dazed and confused, the wasteoids and the deadheads, but i’ll digress for now and save that for another issue. In the meantime let me leave you with another quote from the esteemed Charles Darwin (himself the subject of an upcoming biopic starring Paul Bettany). In a moment of deep profundity, Mr. Darwin was reported to have said; “Animals, whom we have made our slaves, we do not like to consider our equal.” Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Charles Darwin... not equal to a duck.

Rosie Catalano You started out as part of the musical duo The Rouge Balloon. Why did you decide to go solo, and how do you think your style has evolved as a result? It’s funny but I never really made a conscious decision to go solo, I kind of stumbled into it. While Nikola (my band mate) was travelling through Europe I saw an ad for the “Record Your Song With Little Birdy” competition on myspace and entered one of my own songs. I ended up winning and the momentum from that whole experience was so exciting, and it was so easy to get bookings for my solo stuff, that I just kept going with it. My style hasn’t changed all that much, but I think the whole experience working with the band [Little Birdy] gave me a confidence boost I’d been lacking before. It’s made me more honest as a songwriter and performer.

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What are your musical influences? Anyone and everyone I sang along to growing up has shaped me somehow. Back in the day it would have been Morcheeba, Jeff Buckley, PJ Harvey, Tori Amos, Leonard Cohen. At the moment I’m pretty blown away by Mama Kin, Sia, Miss Little, Laura Jean. It’s hard to put a finger on any one or two, because so many musical styles seep into your subconscious without your knowing.

What inspires you? I’m inspired by friends who are happy to take on the world doing creative things, people who are fearless.

What motivates you? The first time I did a gig with The Rouge Balloon this feeling came over me that I was where I was meant to be, doing what I was meant to be doing. Everyone kept saying how nervous they were for me but I felt so calm and happy. I got the same feeling when I was in the recording studio in Melbourne. The knowledge that what I am doing is right for me keeps me motivated. I don’t feel that way working in hospitality or retail, that’s for sure.

What scares you? Everything scares me! I’m easily intimidated, and the creative side of writing music is easy until you have to show the finished product to big wigs and try to convince them that it’s the best thing they’re ever going to listen to. The music industry seems like a hard nut to crack and I’m not very ballsy, so thus far my plan has been to fake it till I make it.

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You won the myspace song competition, and got the chance to record your song with Little Birdy. can you tell us about that experience? I was flown down to Melbourne in June to work with Little Birdy and the sweetest sound engineer Steve Schrami on my song “Where Did I Go Wrong?”. Everyone was so incredibly down to earth and generous, and they were all as addicted to tea as I was which was a pleasant surprise seeing as I’m quite the nanna. Recording is always a long and slow process, and at the same time it’s this melting pot of creativity, ideas and experimentation which I find exhilarating. It was enjoyable to have someone else take the reigns and produce something I’d written in a way I couldn’t have done on my own. They were also very respectful, with both Matty and Steve making sure I was happy with the way the song was coming along. My fondest memories of the day are the bits that weren’t really captured on the ‘behind the scenes’ film, like when the whole band chimed in on a song about Simon’s love of his pet cats. They have a great sense of humour.

What would your music be if it was a.... Tree? ...it would be seasonal, and its leaves would change colour according to the weather.

Animal? ...it would be at home in the sea.

Food? ... it would be easy to digest!

Colour? ...it would be blue.

What’s next for you? I’m going to be spending some time this year working on an electro project with Kyls Burtland, which I’m really excited about because I can leave all the compositional hard yards to her and just sing. I’d also like to get started on an album before the year’s up, but only if everything feels right and I know it will be the best it can possibly be. I’d also like to tour!

For more info: http://www.redrattler.org/

Wed Mar 31 2010 - Mon Apr 5 2010 Sheila Autonomista is an indie, non-profit, queer womenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s art and music festival held across 3 venues - Alpha House, Kudos Gallery and The Red Rattler. The art exhibitions, Scabaret, Academy Broads Film Night, and Scooter are open to everyone. All workshops and Gurlesque are open to women / trans only. 46

treatment, which often leads to her using rough sex to distract her from her feel-Andrew Buckle ings, she reveals that her darkest fear is the woods of Eden, where the couple have Antichrist should immedia cabin. They seek refuge ately figure as one of the here, where he conducts a most unsettling films you series of activities to make will ever see. Lars Von her confront her fears. The Trier (Dancer in the Dark, audience is first lead to Dogville) demolishes all believe that the physical boundaries and creates nature of the woods poses as one of the most haunting a threat (as Satan’s Church), portrayals of the irrational nature of humanity. Follow- and her exposure in this environment brings her fear. ing the death of their son, a You might think that this grieving couple attempt to will be a typical ‘alone-inre-lead a normal life. The the-woods’ horror film, but wife (an astonishing perthe film reveals that the soul formance from Charlotte Gainsbourg) is struggling to of human nature can prove to be far more dangerous. He cope with the loss and subdiscovers that she had physsequent failed treatments ically harmed their child in lead to her psychiatrist the past and that she fears husband (Willem Dafoe, what she herself is capable also outstanding) to try and of, above all else. During cure her anxiety himself. the period in the woods, he He delves into her deephas several encounters with est fears to try and realize that these can be confronted animals (a deer, a fox and a crow), which are symbolic of and beaten, in an attempt different stages of a satanic to turn their relationship process of grieving where around and move on with ‘chaos reigns’ once the inditheir lives. After several vidual passes through the unsuccessful attempts at

Antichrist (Lars Von Trier, 2009)

towards women in the 16th Century forces her into a state of disillusionment, where she views all women subjected to the violence of men as evil and seeks to punish herself for her failure to save her son from his death. The results are horrific! The film twists wildly and unexpectedly out of control and has been succumbed to controversy based on Lars Von Trier’s stance on women. This is not an unnatural theme in the Dutchman’s fine resume, as his often strong lead female characters are often subjected to brutality, either self inflicted or by others. While Willem Dafoe’s character has recovered naturally from the trauma, Gainsbourg’s woman loses all control. She seems to be a tool for Von Trier to despise and ulti

mately punish. I found the film to be exceptionally timed, with the dramatic moments early in the film progressing slowly but concisely towards the shocking final sequences. The cinematography is beautiful and the slow-motion imagery is haunting. The score sends shivers. The confrontation with the fox is the most memorable sequence. Distracted by movement in the bushes he approaches the area and is shocked by the image of a snarling fox devouring itself. The impact of Antichrist will remain with you days and weeks later, and while on one hand I feel like I cannot recommend this film to anyone, but on the other I feel it is a groundbreaking work of art that shouldn’t be ignored. Rating: 4 1/2 Stars

palin dromes Inspired by Demetri Martin’s ‘useless talent’ for creating palindromes (and his general awesomeness), Arghya Gupta shares his own palidromic creation.

This is a poem about Lior, who lives a life as a doctor prescribing cod liver oil by day, but is a big name in the illicit cigar industry by night. Lior is narrating this to his wife, Emma, and while he narrates his tale about his double life to her, he wants beer from a keg, but seeing that it is empty, he settles for some cola, only to find that it is L.A. Cola, which makes him depressed. He reflects on his life, where he used to whip women of Lahore to cut grass in the tobacco fields, but thought that they didn’t work hard enough, and that these women always put on an act - almost as if they were doing their own interpretation of the story of Moses. In the end, Lior tells his wife who he really is, and that he’s just not getting laid, so he cuts himself to make even for his ‘log’.

LIOR OIL I’m a cigar trade con. On Golden eve, stuck O... Dial tone... tile rot! Cod liver oil prawn I am Mega Female Illicit Sale Time!!! Seen keg are vases Om ... Amen Ice ... rats – L.A. Cola?! I yob mopedly; “Who won’t call an emo?” “Whose-?” Oh! Spans I demand on women of Lahore Zero...half....one. Mow, nod, - Named, I snap shoes - oh women! All act now Oh Wylde Pom boy I, a local, stare – Cinema! ‘Moses’ Average knees emit elastic lie. Lame fag. Emma... In wrap; Lior, evil doctor, elite. Not laid, ok! Cuts evened log, No! No cedar tragic am I.

On this day... 3 pm,(friday 12th march 2010)

every day millions of people all over this globe are doing millions of different things... I often wonder what other people out there are up to...

if i was in 2d... A friend asked me the other day which film character I would most like to be... There are so many great, crazy, unique characters in the vastness of the film universe, I couldn’t name just one… but after careful consideration of some of my favourite movies, I decided on three.

Three women that I love in completely different ways. The first is Annie in Anne Hall (1977). Who doesn’t love her? She has completely amazing style (much copied in recent times), especially the high-waisted man pants- a throwback to 40’s Katherine Hepburn. She’s hilarious in her own way- balancing Alvy’s sardonic wit with her own sublimely honest observations about the world. Favourite scene: the lobsters in the kitchen. She is childish and clumsy and adorably unromantic. But maybe it’s really just a part of my admiration for Dianne Keaton. Maybe Annie’s persona is really Dianne’s- after all, aren’t characters inextricable from the actor that plays them?

(Unless they do it really reallyyyy badly or the character is a flesh-eating robot). I think Dianne is just wonderful in all the films I’ve seen- Woody Allen directed or not. Number two is Maggie Cheung- played by herselfin Olivier Assayas’ too cool film Irma Vep (1996). She is the only person in the film who plays herself (as far as I know, anyway) and was ‘improvising’ the role, as it were- interacting with people she knew were playing parts, and trying to appear unaware of that fact. Often her sense of discomfort comes through, and that really adds to the whole experiment. In the film she is hired to play the part of a masked vampire killer (in a rad latex skin-tight suit) in the remake of an old French film. The film within the film’s director is played by Jean-Pierre Leaud, a poster child of the French New Wave, and his performance is equally amusing and touch-

ing. Maggie Cheung is incredibly beautiful, but its not that that draws me to her in this film. It’s the wonderful naivety that comes out in her interaction with the other characters, and also how uber fantastic she looks in that rubber catsuit,- a super hero of French cinema with kung-fu kapow and real-life charm!

And number three is Anne in Anne of Green Gables (1985), played by Megan Follows. This was a classic that I watched many times over when I was younger. Megan makes for the most inspiring Anne- robust and defiant, with a limitless sense of fun and a penchant for impropriety.

She can stand up to anyone, she is intelligent, and knows that a bosom friend is one of the most treasured things anyone can possess. Why she chose Diana though I still don’t understand- I suppose there wasn’t much choice in that small Canadian country village. Oh and the puffed sleeve’s! I love to hate them and hate to love them. Anne’s best dress is the confused love child of a dutch farm girl, a Victorian aristocrat and 80’s wedding barbie... its pure genius! I love Anne because she’s the kind of girl who does life the right way- challenging pre-conceptions, aiming high and not taking everything too seriously.

Thats all kitty cats! Thankyou so much to everyone who contributed to the first incarnation of this newborn zine! Maiscat xxx

...and the word of inspiration for the next issue is

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