Issue 21 ✦ Art

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Editorial ✦ Etita

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The News ✦

Kawe Pūrongo

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Arts & Culture ✦ Ahurea

11. Sidewalk Spotlight: The Stories Behind Wellington's Street Performers Jia Sharma

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Features ✦ Ahuatanga

16. Professional Wrestling is High Art, Change My Mind Narik Letap

18. The RuPaulification of Drag King Markiss

28. A Trailer for Tomorrow Alfie Hartshorne

30. Behind the Curtain: Investigating a Wicked Underbelly Phoebe Robertson

Columns ✦ Tīwae

30. Aunty Vic

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3 Contents VUWSA Exec Nominations

2024 ✦

7 Puzzles ✦ Panga

✦ Centrefold Competition ✦

23. 2nd Place: Holier Than Thou Lily Hodgson Bell (she/her) @straydog_art

24. 3rd Place: The Light Seeps Through Jane Eaves (she/her) @s.jane.eaves

27. 4th Place: Self Portrait KJ Lucinsky (they/them) @kjlnenicka

About Us

Salient is published by, but remains editorially independent from, the Victoria University of Wellington Students’ Association (VUWSA). Salient is funded in part by VUWSA through the Student Services Levy. Salient is a member of the Aotearoa Student Press Association (ASPA).

The views expressed in Salient do not necessarily reflect those of the Editors, VUWSA, or the University.

Complaints

Complaints regarding the material published in Salient should first be brought to the Editors in writing (editor@salient.org.nz).

If not satisfied with the response, complaints should be directed to the Media Council (info@mediacouncil.org.nz).

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Got opinions about what we publish? Send it to letters@salient.org.nz and we'll publish it.

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Editorial

I ❤ Bad Art

You might notice the editorial team is looking a bit different this week. Kia ora, I’m Bella, and I’m Salient’s Designer: the secret third member of your favourite editorial team. Maia and Fran have kindly let me take the lead this week!

Welcome to the ‘Art’ issue: an exploration of all forms of artistry and manifestations of creativity!

It’s hard to define art. You could simply say that art is the product of any artistic medium: painting, photography, music, dance, theatre, film, or literature. But there are endless ways to create art. For me, any form of art is a tool for creative expression and storytelling. Sometimes that means creating something that helps others tell their stories, as I do every week in Salient. Other times it means using creativity to bring my inner world into reality. Fran would say the magical world inside my head is because of my Aquarius moon, but I think every person has it, regardless of whether you’re a ‘creative’ person or the stars aligned to say so. Art is a manifestation of whatever is going on in your inner world.

Despite the endless possibilities and outlets that come along with creativity, it’s hard not to get caught up in making ‘good’ art. Under this capitalist system, we are told our creative expression only has value when it’s profitable. We get split into artist vs non-artist; the creator vs the consumer. As a child I never once thought I would study Design, simply because the world was telling me being an ‘artist’ wasn’t a viable career path. Designing boring logos for exploitative corporations is a good backup plan, right?

Creating art for art’s sake is the ultimate form of rebellion. Don’t get me wrong, there’s privilege in being able to do that. When you’re studying in a creative field or working in the industry, it often feels like you don’t have the time or energy to create anything for yourself. Art can be pretty draining when you’re in a position of constant critique and high standards.

But don’t forget to take the time to create for yourself, even in small ways! Art can be whatever you want it to be. Have a craft night with your flatmates or pick up that old guitar that's been collecting dust since high school. I often find allowing yourself the space to make ‘bad’ art (whatever that means) is all you need to progress and leave behind the imposter syndrome telling you you’re not good enough to make something ‘good’. If you can’t find the energy to create, let the amazing art already in this world inspire you! Sometimes all it takes is discovering a new album or finally reading that book that’s been in your tote bag since January.

If all else fails, hopefully the stories in this issue will help! This week Narik Letap argues that professional wrestling is a form of ‘high art’. Phoebe pulls the curtain on the exploitation happening behind the scenes at the fantastical musical Wicked. Alfie explores the future of Gen Z cinema in an industry where the Writers’ Guild of America and Screen Actors Guild are striking against Hollywood studios. Local drag performer King Markiss discusses the way RuPaul’s Drag Race has impacted the world of drag performance. Pippi asks four poet bros if publishing poetry gives them the ick, and Jia talks to all your fave Wellington street performers.

We know you can’t get enough of our centrefolds, so we decided to run our first ever centrefold art competition, and were absolutely blown away by all the beautiful mahi. There are four amazing pieces of art in this issue ready for you to add to your flat’s Salient centrefold wall, because one just isn’t enough!

The Salient News team hits the supermarket to put the 5% student discount at New World to the test. Ethan R investigates the impact of a badly communicated change to advanced graduations for international students. Our ‘Candidate Kōrero’ series continues in Rongotai, including interviews with Labour candidate Fleur Fitzsimons and National candidate Karunā Muthu.

Much love, Bella xx

Salient is fuelled by:

"Art is not a privilege, it’s a right. It’s a fundamental part of being human.”

Carmen Lomas Garza

Putting New World ’s Massive 5% Student Discount to the Test

Words by Ethan Manera (he/him) and Maia Ingoe (she/her)

If you get the feeling you're being scammed at the self checkout, you're not mistaken: the price of food has increased a fat 8.9% over the past year. The cost of living crisis has financially crippled Aotearoa and students are feeling the squeeze. But there seems to be a glimmer of hope on the financially chequered horizon: New World Metro.

The multi-billion dollar supermarket giant Foodstuffs —who own New World, Pak’nSave, Four Square, and Liquorland—are standing up for the little guy, offering us struggling students a generous 5% discount off kai, (at their Willis Street store on Sundays). Hallelujah.

Salient wanted to put this to the test and see if this saving really stacks up against a more affordable competitor. We did two identical shops from New World Metro and Countdown Cable Car Lane, buying some student basics to investigate whether this 5% saving can heal our bruised bank accounts.

VUW even endorsed the promotion, sharing the New World Student Sundays promotion on its Instagram account, a small gesture of support to students doing it tough. A top comment on the post read, “YIPPIE 5% WOOOOO HOOOOOO”.

While they didn’t get paid for the promo, Academic Deputy Vice-Chancellor Stuart Brock said “the university is committed to providing as much support and as many types of support for its students as it can”.

To make the comparison fair, we purchased an identical list of goods from each supermarket, opting for the cheapest option available and buying the same brands where possible. Our list was made up of the following ten items: a five-pack of Indomie noodles, oat milk, pasta sauce, U by Kotex pads, three cans of baked beans, frozen fries, frozen vege, a block of tasty cheese, a hot rotisserie chicken, and as a necessary study survival treat: a Blue V.

New World Countdown

At New World, our total shop racked up a whopping $63.00. After calculating the 5% discount, the price marginally reduced to $59.85—an insignificant but welcome reduction.

At Countdown, the same selection of ten items (give or take a change in oat milk brand) took $58.90 out of our bank account.

Overall, the New World discount didn’t actually save us anything, and it actually cost us a marginal 95 cents more than Countdown.

We approached Foodstuffs for comment, who were not keen to respond without seeing our receipts, saying “we’ve been unable to verify the accuracy of The Salient’s shop as they’ve declined to share any details with us”. The spokesperson said their 5% Student Sundays were well received. “The feedback has been positive, and the discount was well used on the first day it was available.” They added that Foodstuffs was “doing everything we can to keep prices low”.

This year, the Commerce Commission found that major supermarkets make more than $1 million in excess profit daily. Foodstuffs made $52 million in profit in the 2023 financial year.

International Students Screwed Over By “ Advanced Graduation ” Mismanagement

Words by Ethan Rogacion (he/him)

International students have been cold shouldered by VUW about their graduation ceremony this year, following miscommunication of the university’s decision to forgo advanced graduation from this year onward.

Prior to the policy's implementation this year, students who completed their degree requirements in Trimester 2 were able to apply for advanced graduation, allowing them to attend the December ceremony. Since then, VUW has scrapped this option, meaning that students completing their courses this trimester will not be able to attend a graduation ceremony until next May.

The impacts of this are severely felt by international students studying at Te Herenga Waka. Most international students hold visas that expire early next year, meaning students are unable to attend May graduation ceremonies. The Victoria International Students’ Association (V-ISA) estimates that “hundreds” of international students may be affected by this change.

One graduating student Salient spoke to was told by the Graduation Office that “the [graduation] ceremony was optional”, and was just “a nice thing to have”, since “the most important thing is for you to get a degree.”

“[This decision] affects my plans greatly,” the student said. “It's very disappointing and very frustrating to think about. Going home without having anything to wrap up your entire journey here, it’s very sad.”

Another student said, “It’s a very big hassle to have to go home after [Trimester 2] and try to come back for graduation next year in May, especially with the expensive costs.”

While the university claimed it took steps to communicate the decision to staff, emails seen by Salient show that this is not the case. In one exchange, a VUW staff member expressed concerns about “serious miscommunication” regarding the procedural changes, stating that the new stance on graduation was a surprise to them.

“This change wasn't widely communicated to all students, and the relevant university web pages were only updated last year to remove reference to advanced graduation,” Jessica Ye, VUWSA President, told Salient

She stated that international students in particular “wouldn't have been proactively contacted about this

change and it makes sense that they would continue to rely on the assumption that advanced graduation was still available.”

“All students deserve the opportunity to celebrate their graduation at an official ceremony. Graduation is a critical achievement and moment for students,” she said.

David Wang, president of V-ISA, says that he knows a graduating international student whose family had already bought tickets to Aotearoa, believing that advanced graduation for December was still being offered.

“V-ISA believes that this is an indication of lacking communication between the university and students on such matters,” he told Salient

The university said that the decision to scrap advanced graduation came after feedback from students which “indicated that they found advanced graduation a confusing and complicated process”.

“Changes to the way qualifications are conferred [they can now be conferred at any time University Council meets] means that all students are now able to receive their qualification shortly after completing their studies,” the university said, “so the need for advanced graduation was significantly diminished.”

VUWSA were involved with the consultation process leading to this change. Jessica Ye told Salient that, in 2021, the VUWSA executive saw no issues with removing advanced graduation as an option.

“On behalf of VUWSA, I apologise for the fact that we had not raised this issue back then nor sought wider consultation with student representative groups who bring invaluable lived experience to these issues,” she said.

V-ISA was also not consulted by the university, and only found out about the change after the decision was passed.

The university has stated that the International Student Experience team plans on holding a farewell celebration for graduating international students in November.

Some students spoken to by Salient have not been made aware of any such event, with V-ISA calling for the university to “reconsider and review the possibility of restoring advance graduation” instead.

ELECTION CANDIDATE KŌRERO

KARUNĀ MUTHU

Words by Ethan Manera (he/him)

Ideologically, he’s a “compassionate conservative and social liberal”, and says he’s “always believed in social justice, and standing up for the underprivileged and downtrodden”.

While door-knocking around his neighbourhood of Strathmore, Muthu said that people often tell him he’s in the wrong party. “All the parties want the best for the people, but I align myself with the values of the National Party: hard work, family, reward for your hard work, and so on.” He said some members of the community have not been so friendly, with some drivers even pulling the finger at Muthu and his volunteers while sign-waving in the area.

He’s keen to get stuck in and fix what he considers to be three biggest issues in the community: cost of living, transport, and employment.

Cost of Living

Karunā Muthu describes himself as a “political animal”. He's not lying; rocking up to our interview in his royal blue National Party branded jacket, he jokes that he’s going to be the Prime Minister of New Zealand. The National Candidate for Rongotai is optimistic he’s able to turn Rongotai blue, despite it being a safe Labour seat since 1996.

“I'm the underdog, and I don't mind being the underdog. I didn't get to where I am today by being the front runner,” he said.

The lawyer and investor has lived in the Rongotai electorate for 23 years after immigrating from India in the 90s with only “$500 in hand” in search of a better life for his children.

Muthu acknowledges how tough things are for young people in the electorate, saying that “students in Rongotai are probably one of the most hurt by the cost of living crisis”. He says that the best way to deal with it “is to bring inflation down”. National’s plan for reducing inflation includes cutting public service spending, tax relief for the “squeezed middle”, and instructing the Reserve Bank to “just focus on inflation” rather than what he calls “other experimental social engineering stuff”, like controlling house prices.

While he says that “National will rebuild the economy, bring the inflation under control, and reduce the cost of living crisis that will benefit the students”, he knows “it’s not going to be a magic wand that's going to create everything into a rosy picture come 14th October.”

When asked if he would support more immediate measures to alleviate student hardship, such as increasing student allowances or extending the fees free program, Muthu said, “The current policy is probably what National will stick to, so students don't have to worry that there's going to be a cut [to] this or that.”

He said he wants to rebuild the economy so students are able to work part-time, preferring they support themselves rather than getting a government handout. The National Party have not yet released their tertiary education policy, but have promised to keep the first year of the fees free programme.

Transport

National’s recently released transport policy would see a second Mount Victoria tunnel, allowing increased roading infrastructure for the party’s goal of “four lanes to the planes”, as well as investing in the greater Wellington train service and scrapping the plans for light rail by cancelling Let’s Get Wellington Moving (LGWM).

Muthu says LGWM has caused “suffering” and the death of small businesses due to “very little consultation with the local residents”.

The bus system is another thing he wants to change, saying it “used to be the pride of Wellington” but has been “decimated by some ideological project”. He said that building more roads is important, as “buses [have] got to run on roads”, and the current roads around Wellington “are not in condition that we deserve”.

When asked if he would support the campaign for free bus fares for students, he said he's open to the idea if it means students will “get to university on time” and “focus on their studies”, but is “keen to learn the cost benefit of it” before committing any support.

Employment

Despite New Zealand’s unemployment rate reaching record lows in 2023, Muthu reckons employment "is really hard to get now” and says National “would actually rebuild the economy, that would create job opportunities for students so they will be able to support themselves.”

“There is very little part time [work] available for young students. [...] This is what my daughter tells me.” Muthu’s daughter, who is helping out with his campaign, joined us for the interview.

He is especially passionate about creating jobs in the film industry, saying, “We have a centre of [the] global movie industry in Miramar and we have an opportunity to put Rongotai on the map, not just in New Zealand, but on the globe. The students of Rongotai have an opportunity to be part of that kind of industry.”

Housing

His main priority for improving the rental market for students is “actually freeing up land for more housing”. National’s housing policy includes incentivising councils to zone for housing outside of city centres by scrapping the requirement for them to build housing under Medium Density Residential Standards, instead allowing for greenfields development on rural land. The party also wishes to reinstate no-case evictions, among other measures, to ease cost pressures on landlords.

“I'm a renter right now and I know how important it is to have a warm, healthy home,” he said. But Muthu also revealed that he is “indirectly” a landlord, “My wife owns [the property] and I own a little bit of it.”

Opponents

When asked about his opponents for the Rongotai seat, Muthu was not short of reasons why voters should give him their support come election day rather than his fellow candidates in Labour or the Greens.

“Why am I better than Julie Anne or Fleur? I'm not ideologically blinded like some of my opponents, I'm open, I'm pragmatic, I'm actually coming with some real life experience—it’s not theory, I know what it is [like] to be on [the] dole, I know what it is [like] to be a student, I know what it is [like] to be paying bills, I know what it is [like] to bring up children, and I know what it is [like] to have a child with a disability and juggle your life around it. I tell you, I have far more experience.”

ELECTION CANDIDATE KŌRERO

FLEUR FITZSIMONS

Words by Niamh Vaughan (she/her)

She stepped up to the Rongotai seat after the departure of current MP Paul Eagle, and stated that she wants “to live in a New Zealand that has taken action on climate change and looks after the most vulnerable.”

After study, and for most of her working life, Fitzsimons worked as a trade union official before becoming a Wellington City Councillor in 2017. Her roots in advocacy for both workers and students is something she promises to remember in her candidacy.

Fitzsimons joined us in the Salient office to discuss her most important campaign issues: climate justice, housing, advocacy, and cost of living.

Climate Change and Transport

Fitzsimons confidently listed reducing emissions as her number one priority. “We have to respond to climate change,” she proclaimed.

Fleur Fitzsimons is the picture-perfect Labour Party candidate—black blazer, red scarf, and all—with The Spinoff crediting her look to a Labour MP ‘laboratory’. Fitzsimons has been a Wellingtonian for 26 years, ever since she first moved to study Politics and Law at VUW. She joined the VUWSA executive, alongside the current Prime Minister, then VUWSA President, Chris Hipkins.

Fitzsimons succeeded Hipkins' presidency in 2002. “I was Vice President when [he] was student President here,” she admits, “and we did call him Chippy.”

For her, this starts with delivering a low-emission transport system for Wellington. “We do not have the kind of mass rapid transit that a city of our size, with the projected growth that we know is coming, needs.”

Fitzsimons stands behind the controversial Let’s Get Wellington Moving project, admitting there’s been a few bumps in the road, but that the initial vision is “sound”.

“In terms of public transport, the main issues are reliability and affordability,” says Fitzsimons. She supports the implementation of the new on-demand bus service in Tawa and the bus drivers across the country that are currently working towards a fair pay agreement. “I can't be supportive enough for bus drivers [...] because that's inherently important work and they need dignity in that work.”

VOTE! Housing

“There's no doubt that renters are more vulnerable than homeowners. [...] My vision is for everybody to have a warm, dry home,” says Fitzsimons on her second most pressing issue. “We just haven't built enough homes,” she states, “and the priority for me is building more homes that are warm and dry, and doing it quickly.”

Fitzsimons believes we need to start seeing the densification of our city as a good thing and something that should be welcomed, since “it will bring a whole lot of other benefits alongside more houses, which we desperately need.”

The council’s district plan for densification is supported by Fitzsimons. She hopes to see housing intensified along the rapid transit routes: from the city, through Newtown, and out to Island Bay. This ties back into her stance on climate justice. “If we're going to create low emission cities, we need to make sure that housing is built close to transport.”

Advocacy

Fitzsimons believes that it's the role of a Member of Parliament to take every tenant’s concerns seriously, including breaches of residential tenancy agreements, ensuring tenants have access to the right advocacy. “If they can't get results, then I would go in to bat for them,” she says.

She cites Labour’s “very strong” record in government of introducing the Healthy Homes Standards as evidence of their advocacy for renters.

When asked how these Healthy Homes Standards could be better enforced, Fitzsimons referred back to her time on the city council when they funded the Wellington Community Law Centre to set up a tenancy advocacy service.

Fitzsimons says that in the Rongotai electorate there are a number of people living in social housing, whether it be Kāinga Ora or through the city council. She expressed interest in setting up a Social Housing Tenants’ Union to help in the way these tenants may need with their respective landlords.

“Most people don't have a voice. There's no tenants’ union for social housing, and from my experience [as] a city councillor, they need a voice.”

Cost of Living

When it comes to the cost of living crisis, Fitzsimons admits, “There's always more that we can do.” Her focus is on Aotearoa’s most vulnerable, and she puts students into that category.

Fitzsimons supports the Labour Government’s increases to the minimum wage, as well as to students’ loan living costs and allowances, even though this move has been criticised as sticking a “bandaid” over the problem. Again, Fitzsimons reiterates that there is still more work to do.

Another Labour action Fitzsimons stands behind is the Prime Minister’s decision to “rule out” a wealth tax. “He's looked at what New Zealanders are up for and can manage this election, and he's made a call to rule out a wealth tax, and I support his call.”

Instead, Fitzsimons focuses on other areas where Labour has helped to ease the cost of living crisis. “I think it's important to remember that Labour has made significant changes in its approach to property speculation.” She goes on to list the removal of interest deductibility and the increase of the bright line test. “Those are steps which landlords haven't liked [but] more first home buyers [are] able to buy homes now.”

Fitzsimons also sees the proposal to remove GST from fresh fruit and vegetables as a good move. She acknowledges that some say it doesn’t go far enough, but iterates that the policy is for the people in the grocery queue who end up having to put food back.

“Sure, it's not everything, but you need to look at it in the context of the overall package of Labour's cost of living measures and then I think it is a step in the right direction.” ✦

✦ ✦

Fitzsimons urges students to be comparative when it comes to looking over offered policies for this coming election. “[You] need to look at what the alternative is— what a National-ACT Government will do for students— because they do not have a good track record when it comes to delivering for students.”

HOT TAKES

What is your least favourite art form, and why?

Jeff (he/him)

The modern, abstract stuff that doesn't look like anything, that's just, like, colours and shapes and stuff. Give me art that actually looks like things.

Pluto (any pronouns)

You know that trend in like 2016/2017 of, like, the pancake where they have, like, the hot plate and they have those little ketchup bottles of pancake batter? Yeah, not slay.

Lucy (she/her)

I would say NFTs, if that even counts.

Angus (he/him)

I absolutely cannot stand images of dogs and rabbits, like, paintings of dogs and rabbits, leave that to real life. Especially when they're in suits, get that away from me.

Music presents

Sunday,

15th October — San Fran

Performing the Taite Music Prize album Everything is Going to be Alright in its entirety with special guests Stalker

Banished

Tickets from Moshtix

Pissing your Pants… Extravagantly…

In a Supermarket A isle

at

Age 14

Imagine the feeling of pissing your pants. In public. Seriously, okay, I know you’ve just picked up Salient between classes, this is not what you signed up for, and you just want a spot of light relief. Well, I’m giving you some. Go on. Relieve yourself. Imagine it.

Cool. Now we’re here in this horrible, metaphysical space together, I need you to give me some advice!

I have a problem. As a person who publishes poetry (help), I have a physical reaction whenever somebody calls me a ‘poet’. Ew. It feels exactly like this. Like piss. If you’re an artist, does sharing your art ever feel like this? Like, if you’re a filmmaker and you show your movie on the big screen, is it ever embarrassing? Probably not. Is it a poetry thing? This is a cry for help. I interviewed four poet-bros to get some answers.

Words by Pippi Jean (she/her)

✦ Photo of Cadence Chung ✦

When did you first start writing poetry?

“I like to joke that I first started writing when I was bored in maths class as a 9-year-old,” Cadence Chung says, “but I only seriously got into poetry in intermediate school.” Cadence is a child prodigy, having published their debut chapbook anomalia with Tender Press during their first year of uni, panelled at the Auckland Writers’ Festival in their second, and wrote, composed, and directed hit teen musical In Blind Faith long before that.

Aroha Witinitara (Ngāti Kahungunu ki Wairarapa) is a second-year Communications student at VUW, with previous publications in Salient, The Post, and Wairarapa News. They tell me a little bit about how they started off writing news in the Wairarapa, saying, “Writing [news] was a good way to claim space where younger people often get ‘drowned out’. I didn’t really get into poetry until I got to university, in Anna Jackson’s class.”

5 Zia

“When I was 5 years old, I wanted to be a pop star. Then I realised… I couldn’t sing very well,” says Amelia Kirkness. Originally from Ōtautahi, Amelia is a sword lesbian studying English Literature and Media Studies at VUW. She’s had poetry published in Starling, Catalyst, and The Spinoff “Then I wanted to be a fashion designer. But I couldn’t draw,” she shrugs. “When I was 8, I was like, ‘Okay, I want to be an author. I like books’.” Amelia wrote mostly fiction until discovering poetry in high school, and with it, Ōtautahi’s vibrant open mic and slam scene.

Zia Ravenscroft has a similar story. “I used to write short stories, and I’d start novels, but I’d never finish them,” he says. “Honestly, I started writing poetry out of convenience […] in Year 13.” Zia is a second-year Theatre and English student at VUW with poetry published in Starling, Overcom, Takahē, and elsewhere. His interview is a series of voice memos sent straight from Feilding, his hometown, and the obvious first choice for a place to raise “God's favourite boy-toy”.

Did you know poetry is cringe?

In the first poem of her collection Write a Book, New Zealand poet Hera Lindsay Bird describes writing, reading, and sharing your own poetry as cringe: “to be fourteen / and wet yourself extravagantly / at a supermarket checkout / as urine cascades down your black lace stocking”. I agree with this.

“Would I do a poetry reading back at home?” Aroha stops to think. “I don’t know. I don’t think I would.” Aroha explains how the cringe culture around poetry can be warranted. They feel they only ‘could’ read poetry when they went to university, and in Wellington particularly. Wellington is a special place for poets and literary communities. It can be easy to assume written poetry is academic, dense, and pretentious, but I find living here helps me to question those assumptions.

“No one had ever explained to me how poetry works,” Aroha says, “and it is quite complicated, unfortunately. You have to be able to sit down with a poem […] and think about it quite a bit.” Poetry shouldn’t all be taught as Wordsworth or Shakespeare, but often, that’s what people are exposed to in schools, which creates a lot of misunderstanding.

“It depends on who your English teachers are,” Amelia says. “I mean, I had some good ones, but I feel like how poetry is taught sometimes there can be a sense of cosplaying as being deep and intellectual.” Her first introduction to poetry

was through nursery rhymes, which didn’t grab her. The interest only resurfaced in high school. When she started reading modern New Zealand poets— like Hera Lindsay-Bird, Freya Daly-Sadgrove, and Tayi Tibble—poetry seemed relevant to her.

“I think as creators we have a tendency to be very humble about our work, and sort of look down on it,” Zia says. “I think if you spend so long writing, you get to a point where all you can see is its faults.” Maybe it's quintessential Kiwi tall poppy syndrome. I used to get embarrassed when people shouted at me from the sidelines in a hockey game. That’s sport. Which is cool. And literal. And fast. What is it like when you’re in the limelight sharing all your slow, messy, metaphysical inside thoughts? One million times worse.

“You cringe,” Zia admits, “but then you show your poem to a friend, and you’re like ‘Aw, I don’t know if I like this, I think it sucks.’ And they go, ‘What do you mean? This is the most beautiful poem I’ve ever read!’” His voice memo crackles with excitement. He’s talked a lot about what he gets from reading other people’s poems—like Richard Siken’s ‘Crush’—which is a “totally original feeling”. So for him, the meaning of sharing art outweighs any cringe. “I really feel there’s a freedom, [and] liberation in poetry.”

Why do you write poetry?

A few weeks ago, I attended a GOOD BOOKS writers’ talk by Jenny Bornholdt and Frances Samuel. When asked about her writing process, Frances talked about “knowing things were going to be important”. She worked as a curator for Te Papa, which inspired her new chapbook Museum Often, objects or facts—my fave: that “humpback whales whisper underwater to warn their young of danger”—had a certain “glow” for her.

I tell Amelia about this. She agrees the ‘glow’ is totally a thing—writers can tell what parts of their life will shine on the page. “A couple weekends ago, my friends and I were in town, the bar was about to close, and two of our friends were dancing together on the dance floor. [They were] just spinning each other. It was totally deserted, except for them. And I was like, oh…” Her voice changes. “This is a moment that needs to last forever.”

The habit of capturing moments is not something specific to poetry at all. You know, maybe I just need to get out and cop somebody’s granddad’s ‘untested idk if it works’ free film camera from Facebook Marketplace. But I’m reminded of a line of Cadence’s poetry: “I may / write a thousand sonnets and forget the lovers, / but still have all these words on my hands.”

Writing poems helps me remember things exactly how I experienced them, way after they’ve happened. It’s like drinking a special milk-mud-grass potion that transports you back to that place and time. In the words of Rebecca Shaw and Freya Daly-Sadgrove, “poetry is language at its most potent, it’s like, concentrated, it’s like the linguistic equivalent of blood-doping, and similarly frowned upon.”

Why do you publish poetry?

You don’t have to publish your work, Amelia says. But you do have to “take yourself seriously”. She touches on defences I also find myself making, like, ‘I guess I write poems sometimes!’ and ‘yeah, I write poetry, I know, it's cringe’.

Even though writing (and sharing) poetry can be embarrassing, she says we have to realise cringe culture is cancelled and just own that we’re a “fucking person making art”.

“I think particularly when you’re a young woman who is an artist, it can be tempting to kind of trivialise yourself and your work,” says Amelia. “But you have to be like, ‘I am worthy of respect for doing this’ […] and putting work out into the world is a hugely scary and brave thing to do.”

A roha

Aroha says, “I would strongly encourage anybody with any sort of minority representation to try writing poetry. I think it's a really powerful way to do the whole taking up space thing. There's an element of therapy, even if you don't show anybody, [just through] getting your experience out on the page. And I think, historically, minorities have been told not to do not to take up space, not to complain. […] It's so legitimising to have this piece of paper with your sorrow or happiness or just plain experience existing physically in the world. Being there when it's been told not to be. We should all just be.”

Okay, awesome, is there a conclusion?

Thank you, omniscient formatter. Yes, there is. I feel super empowered after reading all this stuff about poetry. But what if next time I have a cool experience feeling good feelings in the world and I write it down, I end up reading it out to someone and it feels like piss again? What if I mess up how I say something? What does my art actually give to anyone else?

These are the questions that stop me from writing, sharing, and even talking to my friends about poetry. But when I do talk, I realise it’s not useful to embarrass yourself about your art. No matter the form, style, or platform, you’re putting yourself out there and entering into a personal conversation with the world. This is a big and brave and pretentious and cringe and scary and messy and good thing.

SIDEWALK SPOTLIGHT

The Stories Behind Wellington's Street Performers

Words by Jia Sharma (she/her)

Ialways get a feeling of excitement when I begin my hike up Cuba Street and hear music playing. My pace quickens in anticipation of the performers

I’ve come to recognise by ear. They add a layer of excitement to our daily routines, boring errands, and even more boring classes. The Wellington CBD is brimming with talented performers on every corner. From bands to magicians, the streets are one giant variety show. There is a strong network of street performers that have become familiar faces to a lot of people.

Street performance is an excellent gateway for emerging performers, and many popular artists such as Tracy Chapman and Robin Williams started off busking. After taking a minute to get a licence online, anyone can do it.

It’s an accessible and cost-efficient way to showcase your talent without the struggle of having to secure a venue and sell tickets. Foot traffic on the bustling streets provides a pre-sold-out show.

Street performance is an underappreciated part of history. It builds the social and artistic climate of a city. In addition to providing accessible entertainment, street performers are the unsung heroes of an urban landscape, helping create vibrant public spaces that make cities and communities more dynamic and enjoyable places to live. Most times, while the focus is primarily drawn to the big artists playing at Spark Arena, your next favourite artist may have been right under your nose.

Hopefully, the next time you encounter these artists on the street, you'll not only appreciate their talent but also know a bit more about the incredible people behind the performances.

Tree @woodybansuri

For those who roam the CBD regularly, I’m sure you’ve come across Tree at some point. Adored by many, Tree sets out to spread happiness through his performance, with the initial goal of cheering the city up after the pandemic lockdowns ended. Myself and many others have often wondered what inspired the iconic tree costume, and Woody, the face behind Tree, kindly provided an answer to my question.

“I lived in India and Nepal for 14 years from 2005 until 2019. There, trees are treated as magical and sacred beings. [...] I felt that it would be nice to make people in Wellington feel that they have a nice tree friend that loves them walking around on a daily basis.”

As someone who basically lives on Cuba Street, I always appreciate Tree’s friendly waves and amazing saxophone tunes.

Unfortunately, the Wellington City Council doesn’t seem to have the same appreciation and have been rude and disrespectful to Tree on several occasions. Fortunately, Tree doesn’t let this get to him and remains undeterred, as at the end of the day, the overwhelmingly positive reaction is what matters most. Woody doesn’t aim to market or establish Tree as a brand, saying that it’s enough that people enjoy his performances. If you want to witness some of the joy being spread by Tree, just take a walk around the CBD on a good day, you’re bound to run into him. If you do, make sure you give a wave back.

Matthias Goed

Instagram: @wcircus.dude

Matthias is a second-generation circus performer who can be commonly found near the bucket fountain or by the waterfront. His main goal is to make circus more accessible to everyone and make the world a more fun place. Matthias’ performance journey started in 2016 when touring around Europe. He noticed a gap in the entertainment industry when it came to live circus and people’s awareness of it. By using the streets as a stage, Matthias ensures that everyone can enjoy the art of circus. He also says, “There is a certain freedom that comes with it. I am able to travel pretty much anywhere, bringing something positive to communities wherever I go, all while doing something that I love and (mostly) being able to support myself.”

With the bold ambition of being "bigger than Michael Jackson", Caleb freestyles to a variety of songs, using tap dance as a way to express his authentic self. Caleb has an interesting story when it comes to what launched his street performance career. Due to Covid-19, Caleb had to leave his Musical Theatre scholarship in Melbourne and move to Wellington. “The day I moved into my flat, my flatmate offered up a slab of wood, as I had mentioned tap dance busking. The rest just fell into place after that.” Through busking, Caleb met other people to perform with and was able to build meaningful connections with others. In the many times I’ve seen Caleb performing, there has always been a lasting audience that sticks around for a few songs. My friends and I always look forward to seeing his performances and anticipate running into him the second we start walking up Cuba Street.

I’ve come across Matthias performing a few times near the waterfront, and one of the most remarkable aspects of his performances is the awe-struck crowd of children who have gathered to watch. Going to the circus is something I’ve always wanted to do, but it’s such a rare event. Having someone sharing the art of circus spreads awareness of something that would otherwise be out of reach for most people. Matthias’ social media is the best place to find where and when he’ll be performing next, see some cool circus tricks, and open yourself up to an underappreciated art form.

Caleb Cameron

Instagram: @caleb.cameron

TikTok: @LebtheTapDancer

Caleb said, “The support I have had from the public who walk past and those who have made effort to make contact has been phenomenal, and I know it is obvious when I say it but the busking culture could not survive without the generous and supportive public. So thank you Wellington.” Caleb is currently working on a couple of overseas projects, one of which is performing in a cabaret show on a

cruise ship and the other takes him all the way to the United States. Because of this, it might be a while before we see him tapping on the streets again, but make sure to keep up to date on his socials and follow him on these exciting new projects.

Kozo Komatsubara

Instagram: @kozokaos Website: kozokaos.com

Comedy, danger, and rock and roll come together in the performances of Kozo: a juggler and magician that can be found on either Cuba Street or the waterfront. His journey as a street performer started 14 years ago when he attended the Auckland Buskers Festival and saw a performer who did crazy tricks with a skateboard and a ladder. Kozo said, “I had seen street performers before who played a character, juggled, or rode a unicycle, but this guy had a real chill, 'normal person' vibe and all of the tricks he did [were] something I'd never seen before. Until I saw him, I didn't know it was okay to

just be yourself.” Kozo has since developed a large following and has earned the title of 'New Zealand's Fastest Juggler'.

Kozo has just returned from a three-month summer tour in the UK and is in the process of planning his NZ and Australia tour for the summer, which is definitely something to look out for. Kozo can also be found regularly performing at The Fringe Bar, doing both solo shows and taking part in cabaret and stand-up comedy shows. You can find Kozo’s schedule and tour dates on his website and social media, so make sure you check that out to find your next magical experience.

Professional Wr ES t LI ng is High Art , Change My Mind

Words by Narik Letap (he/they)

Whether it be oil splatters on a blank canvas, leaps and pirouettes on the stage, or lyrics crafted from the bedroom floor on a rainy day, art exists in various forms. If you are anything like myself—an avante-garde critic, a purely cultured individual, and a hedonist to the highest degree—seeking pleasure in all forms of art is simply a must. Unfortunately for us, the world of fine art has become increasingly overcrowded with AI, crude remakes, and content-pumping platforms that ridicule art’s sacredness.

In the dire circumstances we find ourselves in, I am pleased to share my discovery of a new art form that will soon become renowned by historians; an art whose brilliance is comparable only to Vincent van Gough’s Starry Night or DreamWorks’ Shrek.

Let me introduce you to the art of professional wrestling.

Firstly, I’m utterly appalled to find this art form regularly combats a plethora of cruel haters. My poor, delicate eyeballs have been regularly assaulted by discourse that completely disregards such an honoured profession of extensive merits. These uncultured swine not only claim it to be an embarrassment but frequently use the unthinkable ‘f’ word to describe it: fake! Can you even fathom such a claim?

Perhaps you can. I wouldn't be surprised if even you, my sophisticated friend, regard the form as nothing more than half-naked buffoons pretending to hit one another in an inadvertently homoerotic fashion.

In such cases, I see it as my duty as a highly-esteemed critic to explain why this is unmistakably out of touch. As a great man has surely proclaimed, what is one man’s half-naked buffoonery is another man’s gold…or something to that effect.

I am certain you haters are protesting the notion that wrestling is an art. So, let me use the most trusted source, Wikipedia, to clear up this nonsense. Wrestling is defined on Wikipedia as an “athletic form of theatre”, and therefore, is an art form. Its unique artistry of intensely physical ‘ stunt work’, aided by melodramatics, can be traced back to its early 20th century carnival origins. Wrestling artisans believed playing characters and planning move sequences during matches would create a more entertaining narrative and draw in larger audiences.

Wrestling is a credible art form based on numbers alone. It has successfully transitioned from small audiences of people and animals alike to regularly filling stadiums with upwards of 50,000 fans. The energy at a professional wrestling show is simply… electric.

Like any great narrative arc, the wrestling performers in a match will often take up roles within their personas: the ‘good guy’ versus the 'bad guy’. The ‘good guy’ must be a hero of the common man. The ‘bad guy’ will then behave as the most despised in the nation. Performers must expertly convince the audience of their mutual hatred using tools of persuasion such as scripted, back-and-forth verbal exchanges, video packages, and backstage brawls— à la the finest of reality television. These techniques may seem cliché, but when executed by top-class performers, they effectively make a wrestling match feel like:

You’re on a rollercoaster, strapped in tight, prepared for the culmination of a months-long feud between former tag team partners, best friends turned worst enemies. The first drop comes quickly. The good guy starts off, swinging wild punches in a fit of revenge and lingering confusion, the crowd erupting in cheer. Unfortunately, this manic flurry is short-lived. The bad guy has the upper hand. He slows down

the pace, plays cruel mind games. The hero desperately fights back. The crowd rallies behind him. The rollercoaster rises to the top, the match climax awaits. The pace quickens, we descend towards the final act, the crowd grows frantic, the competitors trade vicious, muddled blows like their life depends on it. This potent desperation for vengeance disguises their mourning for the person they once called ‘brother’. Who will come out victorious? Can there truly be a winner in a tragedy like this? The story is ever so captivating.

Apologies, I got a bit carried away there.

While I have already proved the necessity of professional wrestling’s scripted elements, I can see you’re shaking your head at my depiction of the pure brutality that occurs inside the wrestling ring. Perhaps you have been privy to the certifiable evidence the performers are not actually trying to knock their opponent out. Or, perhaps you are under the impression its theatricality is suggestive of the stunts being performed within a protective, padded environment.

Good sir, you’re mistaken. Think of the stiff canvas performers land on, the variety of steel chairs, tables, and kendo sticks used to inflict damage, and the frequent highrisk jumps performed. I can assure you these all hurt like a motherfucker. I can only assume the reason for haters to continually assert the unthinkable ‘f’ word at the profession with such disdain is because… perhaps…

The reality is too surreal to comprehend.

The physical pain may seem like the worst of it, but the mental pain bruises much deeper. Imagine being on the road for over 300 days a year, putting your body through hell in a new city every night, missing more family occasions and childrens’ birthdays than you get to attend. What if you’re a woman and a wrestler having to fight tooth and fucking nail to get more than two minutes of television time each week to prove you have more to offer than just being a side act, and to combat a deeply misogynistic industry and fanbase on a daily basis? Why would you bother? Why would you put yourself, your friends, and your family through so much pain and heartache?

You do it because you love it. You do it for the roar of 100,000 fans as you go for the pin and they count “1,2, 3!” with you. You do it for the realisation you’ve somehow won the same championship you remember your childhood hero holding. Time stands still, the character slips away, and it’s just you. The fans that have been there for you, the real you, since the very beginning through your continuous reinventions and persona evolutions. The you that your family in the front row is losing their shit over. The tears in your mother’s eyes as you remember her driving you to shows in front of ten people, or watching you play-wrestle in the living room at 5 years old and saying you’re going to be a wrestler one day. You do it for moments like this. You do it because you love it too much to ever give it up.

My eyes have become damp with perspiration. At this present moment, I can only hope I have done everything in my power to convince you, on an objective basis, of the artistic merit and prestige attached to such a fine form, barring those few unfortunate interjections of the emotions of my personhood. However, for those still teetering on the edge of the fence as to whether you should consider professional wrestling an artform, my final argument is —oh fuck it—because it’s absolutely ridiculous!

Professional wrestling may be all of those great things, yet it is undoubtedly one of the most messy, crass, absurdly stupid shitshows to ever exist. It has unbelievably offensive storylines and comedy gags that would make even the most thick-skinned of people gasp with horror. It’s got criminally bad dance battles, matches fought in evening gowns and a giant tub of pudding, and characters whose only personality trait is having deadly flatulence. There are asses being rubbed in faces and balls being tased because the crowd still goes crazy for this shit. It’s the travelling circus with Hot Mess Express permanently painted on its rear end.

But that’s what makes it one of a kind.

Wrestling is the only form of entertainment that can make you shake your head in disbelief at the unintentional campiness of it all, and cry in awe at the pure magic you’ve just witnessed. At times it’s devoid of any logic yet so full of heart. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Might I end by saying this: if you can be thoroughly entertained by the likes of Love Island and Married at First Sight, I don’t believe that your standards for pleasure have anything left to lose.

ification The of Drag RuPaul

Words by King Markiss (he/him) @kingmarkiss

Nothing is stopping me from getting into drag.

I'm 16 years old, alone in my bedroom, five hours into a RuPaul’s Drag Race (RPDR) binge, and this thought repeats in my mind. I carve out the contours of my face and tape my breasts beneath my armpits. King Markiss is born. People don’t look at me like they look at drag queens, though. The second time I go out in drag is at Cuba Dupa and I am looked upon with confusion, if not contempt.

When normies (the name I lovingly bestow upon those of you who watch no drag—or no local drag) think of a drag performer, one type of person comes to mind. She is tall; she wears a big wig, a full chestplate, and a magnificent sparkling gown. She is a drag queen— and a certain type at that. She is RuPaul.

✦ ✦ ✦

RuPaul’s Drag Race is an international phenomenon. Without it, drag might still be an underground, criminalised art form. With it, drag has totally transformed for the better… and worse. Drag Race’s influence has penetrated every local drag scene and the minds of every drag consumer. Performers have enjoyed increased pay and opportunities, and trans people’s avenue for gender expression and experimentation has become mainstream. But, through the race, everyone now expects perfection. They expect competition And, they expect a particular depiction of gender.

Modern drag as we know it can be traced to British vaudeville theatre and Harlem’s ballroom scene. Male vaudeville performers would dress as women for their show, only revealing their identity at the end—to the audience’s shock. Some performers even developed large fanbases, such as the famous actor and drag queen, Julian Eltinge.

In the ballroom scene, the Black and Hispanic queer folks of New York would hold intimate balls with runway shows, voguing, and pure unadulterated queer creativity. This is where the concept of a ‘drag house’ popped up, as the Black and Hispanic drag queens and trans women in the scene, who were often homeless and struggling with oppressive economic forces, were in need of elders’ guidance and care.

In Pōneke, drag has been a staple since the 1970s. Back then, it was distinctly focused on the political subversion of gender. In a 1973 Christchurch Gay Liberation Front newsletter, they describe a performer as “not trying to act like a woman. He’s showing that clothes and behaviour have no relations to a person’s essential masculinity or femininity; he’s showing that our attitudes to masculinity and femininity are conditioned by what society has taught us to believe, and not by what we really are.” Now, we find ourselves in a new era of drag: RuPaulified drag.

✦ ✦ ✦

Expectations of perfection infect our minds like a virus, and through RPDR, expectations have skyrocketed. Competitors spend up to tens of thousands of dollars to prepare for RPDR. Yet, having high expectations for a competition like RPDR is not the issue; the issue is when normies look down on local artists who fail to live up to that standard.

A Pōneke queen told me “the bigger [RPDR’s] budget, the more expensive they expect their cast to be”. To her, drag has become about “whose outfit is the most expensive, who looks the most like an Instagram/TikTok model. [...] Drag is meant to be a means of self-expression, but now it just feels like capitalism has ruined that.”

The word “crunchy” is often used to describe the queens appearing on RPDR Down Under, complaining that these queens, who lack the resources Americans enjoy, are low-quality. This couldn’t be less true.

When you attend a drag show in Pōneke, you stand (or sit, if you are lucky) in a cramped bar to watch the performer dance, lip-sync, sing, or strip (or sometimes all of the above) to their favourite song. Perhaps they wear a dress from Shein because it’s all they can afford that fits their body, or perhaps they are wearing a bedazzled op shop suit because they found the time between their 9-5. Perhaps, if you're lucky, they wear

"

I carve out the of my face and breasts beneath King Markiss is

a costume they painstakingly sewed themselves. Complaining that our drag is ‘crunchy’ implies that we look cheap. The expectation that drag performers need to look like runway models reflects a deep undercurrent of classism. Put bluntly: the queer people who make up the drag community have always faced systemic barriers to acquiring wealth. Especially performers who are trans, Black, or Māori. So no, normies, Aotearoa’s drag is not ‘crunchy’. It is normal, and it is excellent

✦ ✦ ✦

My back and eyes ache from the blinding light of the sewing machine in my dark, cold lounge. I’m at the end of my tether, but my costume is finally finished. My flatmate asks me if I’m nervous. Of course I am nervous!

“Do you think you’re going to win?” she asks.

Win? Win what?

“The drag race!” she replies.

RPDR transmits a single kind of drag across the world: pageants. Modelled after America’s Next Top Model, RPDR pits queen against queen. Competition has always existed in the art form, and in Pōneke, there is often a friendly competition between two drag performers

sprinkled between the two or three pageants a year. But you’d be sorely mistaken if you came to a Pōneke show expecting a panel of judges. Your regular weekend drag show is instead a pure celebration of gender malleability and queer creativity. There is no expectation of competition or perfection. In the words of Pōneke drag queen and producer Amy Thurst (@theamythurst), RPDR has brought the community “elitism, competition, and burn out”.

Perhaps the most potent effect of RPDR is its gender essentialism. It is well known that RuPaul did not want transgender women competing on RPDR for a long time. Local drag king and producer Willy SmacknTush (@willysmackntush) says RuPaul’s “inclusion and celebration of trans queens was ridiculously overdue, and only started [...] after intense criticism.”

The trans, crossdressing, and drag communities have always been intimately connected. In Pōneke, Carmen Rupe’s coffee house—which doubled as a brothel—employed “a mix of drag queens, female impersonators, transvestites and transsexuals [sic.].” RPDR wanted none of this.

The tunnel-vision of drag as cisgender men dressing as women also deeply correlates with the misogyny and transmisogyny that permeates straight and queer cultural spheres. “[RuPaul] would rather have cishet men on the show

contours and tape my beneath my armpits. is born."

over drag kings, because he doesn’t think women are good enough [to do drag]—although not all drag kings are women,” Willy SmacknTush tells me. Local king Sir Traylene (@sir_traylene) comments that RPDR presents drag as “sterile, competitive, and narrow”.

Further, drag often leads people to discover or express their gender. Carmen Rupe began her journey as a crossdressing sex worker and drag queen, eventually finding that her alter-ego Carmen, was her true self. There is no feeling better than looking at yourself in the mirror and feeling at home. RPDR has spread this joy.

Despite its sterilisation, RPDR has meant a significant rise in popularity and success for some performers. One local queen attributes her success to RPDR, recounting that, with the popularity of RPDR, “drag became something people are willing to pay money to see”. But drag kings have been left behind in this hype.

Willy SmacknTush says kings, compared to queens, “are not offered the same performing opportunities, the same pay, [or] the same respect from the public and other performers.” Amy Thurst also reflects that drag kings lack representation in the art form. Indeed, every time a normie learns I do drag, their first question is “aren’t you already a girl?” Kings are still subject to the stigma from which drag queens have been largely uplifted.

RPDR has also affected non-performers. Making celebratory depictions of gender non-conformity highly accessible, it inspires more people to get into drag, and helps people on their journey of transness. Amy Thurst notes a distinct increase in local performers around RPDR season 8 and 9 in 2016 and 2017. Her start, mine, and no doubt many others’ in the scene, was inspired by RPDR

If you take one thing away from this article, let it be this: RPDR is a sterilised, commodified representation of our community. If you love RPDR, come to a local show. If you love RPDR but don’t want to engage with real-life drag performers, consider why we make you uncomfortable, and make a change. Drag won't hurt you.

Sir Traylene had powerful words on the danger of RPDR tunnel-vision. “Many people will claim to love drag while consuming it online [...] [but] will never put their money where their mouth is and see a local show. They will vote right-wing and take away rights from the very people they sensationalise. They will allow violence incited towards our communities. They will brush off their ‘isms’ and bigotry because [...] [RPDR’s drag] removes the history, range, and political sides of drag.”

✦ ✦ ✦

A Trailer for Tomorrow

A Prediction For Gen Z Cinema

Words by Alfie Hartshorne (he/him)

Smash cut to the late Cold War, and James Cameron and Christopher Nolan are children growing up in the shadow of the bomb. Cut back to now, and they’re the reigning blockbuster kings, making entertaining spectacles that also reflect humanity’s capacity for annihilation and severed connection. Cinema is an art, so it reflects the experiences of the artists. If the art we make reflects our reality, what will our generation make? If our collective experience was a genre, what would it be?

There’s no nice way of saying it: it’s a disaster film. There’s climate change, rising nationalism, inequality, pandemics, culture wars, racism, and transphobia— to name a few of the fraught circumstances of our youth. This is our experience; our future cinema will reflect it. How will the incoming wave of Generation Z filmmakers tackle this?

Let’s start by eliminating what we won’t be doing, by showing you what is being done. Here’s a basic idea of what’s happening: an army of writers and actors man the picket lines. A bunch of out of touch studio goons meddle in the making of every project. Analysts try to discern how this is going to work post-Covid. A slew of $300 million blockbusters crash and burn like never before. The CEOs of a streaming service and a cinema are engaged in a fistfight. A TV writers’ room fends off a horde of AI, while James Cameron lounges on a beach chair beside a sign saying, “I told you so!” Welcome to the modern film industry.

The dream factory’s a nightmare. So what could be different?

Firstly, strikes and studios. For a few months now, the Writer's Guild of America and Screen Actors Guild have been on strike against Hollywood studios. Actors’ representative Fran Drescher stated,

“What happens here is important, because what’s happening to us is happening across all fields of labour by means of when employers make Wall Street and greed their priority.” It goes without saying that the real artists should be compensated for their work. If writers don’t write, the studios have nothing to sell, so they’ll turn to AI.

But it doesn’t work. People like real people and the studios can’t replace us. They definitely have the money to pay the artists. I see a generation emboldened to take a stronger stance against studio shenaniganry. Most of us are already involved in protests and social causes. We’re all set to grow into this. Beyond cinema, there’s a growing workfrom-home movement and a greater demand for better conditions. Film is an industry, it’s no different.

We know things are different post-Covid, and there are big changes for streaming and cinema. Thanks to the pandemic, streaming films straight from release is much more normalised. Will we care as much about the cinematic experience?

Consider Barbenheimer: audiences flocked to cinemas wearing costumes and often brought friends. It worked. At the time of writing, the combined gross of Barbie and Oppenheimer is over $2 billion. This wouldn’t be the same on streaming. Barbenheimer was an event, a ‘me and the boys’ for the ages. This kind of engagement with the theatrical experience was an instant classic—it was memorable and worthwhile. Don’t we all want some kind of longevity?

In the future, I see more diversity and far more varied stories, including many different life experiences outside the American mainstream. A likely prominent theme to emerge throughout our stories will be institutional distrust and downright anti-government sentiment. A defining feature of our generation is anger at the inaction of our political

leaders regarding… everything, really. How many protests have you marched in against systemic and

growing up amidst climate change, and I see a lot of Lovecraftian, cosmic horror facing this futureless feeling. It’s a scary time to be alive. The future may not be guaranteed for many of us, and horror can be one of the most allegorical and cathartic genres for this. A24 (the studio behind Euphoria and The Lighthouse) is gonna have a blast.

My beloved science fiction genre is the most allegorical of them all, and it’s gonna explode. Look at how much of 20th century sci-fi came true: we’re living through Blade Runner (technically set in 2019…), The Matrix, a little bit of Alien, and the smallest sliver of The Thing. Imagine what we’ll create to envision our paperback dystopian future. Art with an environmental focus will come through strongly, and I say this not just to vindicate us Avatar truthers. Our films will focus on nature as something to be preserved and respected, and as indigenous filmmakers take the stage, we’ll see more stories featuring an indigenous worldview of the environment. Or maybe it’ll all be destroyed by deforestation and deep sea mining, so our films will lament the environment with nostalgic memories of beauty now lost. I am willing to bet money one of us is going to adapt Le Guin’s The Word For World Is Forest.

Another difference? Cue the Terminator theme, because it’s AI. What does it look like when we’re done predicting a robot apocalypse, and we’re actually facing HAL 9000? We’re already seeing this in the screenwriters’ strikes—artists fighting to not be replaced by computers. I’d say defiance is the word. Art is forever because art is human.

I think we’ll be seeing a lot of artists grappling with the concept of lost youth. How many of us feel like we’ve had to grow up an extra decade to successfully mature and take on the world’s problems, because it feels like the adults won’t? I know I definitely have. Did we get a chance to be real, carefree teenagers? To quote my favourite musical ever, “Can’t we be seventeen?”

We’re so nostalgic for a lost past, we’re almost tragic. Gen Z has a very particular sense of humour, so I predict a new wave of dark, gallows humour infused comedy. The ultimate joke would be if it turned out that our ‘sensitive’ and ‘snowflake’ generation grew up to make the most outrageous stuff possible.

Throughout everything, I see a reckoning with humanity’s capacity for good and evil. Are we good? Are we worth saving? I think this will be weighing on a lot of minds. Most of my dream projects loosely revolve around a younger generation rejecting tradition and the ways of the old for the sake of legacy and the future. But I want to end on a bigger question than me (because Lord knows I haven’t posed enough of those): are we defined by anger or love? Anger at what was taken from us, or love of what we had? Anger at what we went through and are going through, or love of what we can do?

Filmmaking is nothing but an attempt at control. Through a camera, we can hold the world in our hands. Is that all we’re looking for in this uncertain world? I said that we are a disaster film. But maybe we’re a sports film, the uplifting underdog story. Maybe we’re a war film—once more unto the breach. Or maybe, the most fitting for our time, we’re a superhero film, rising above great tragedy to become something greater. Like life, the reel rolls on, frame by frame, and is yet to be determined. But I know we’ll call “action!” on something uniquely us.

Theatre brings fantasies alive on the stage: a sentiment particularly true for Wicked, a production packed with hit musical numbers, glittering costumes, and a formidable set. But behind the curtains is a stark reality: the majority of those creating this magic are not compensated for their efforts. Casting an investigative spotlight backstage unveils a tale of unpaid actors, bewildering pay contradictions, and an industry that capitalises on the passion of its performers.

Wicked, produced by G&T Productions, wrapped up its Wellington production on 3 September after a three-week season at the St James Theatre. There were around 150 unpaid volunteers working on Wicked as including four interns from Toi Whakaari.

Words by Phoebe Robertson (she/her)

The Pay Predicament

After interviewing a variety of people involved in Wicked, a worrying pattern was revealed to me. Next to nobody received any pay. This encompassed not only the ensemble and backstage crew, but also some of the lead actors.

Ushers, backstage technicians, front-of-house team members, dressers, props handlers, and wardrobe specialists also worked without compensation. While some duties, such as ushering, are commonly done by volunteers, others like audio and lighting require specialised instruction and semi-professional knowledge. Even the backstage photographer worked voluntarily.

Amidst those unpaid jobs, the orchestra was a lucky, yet unusual, outlier. They received an undisclosed hourly rate for rehearsals and dress rehearsals, with payment being so strict they abruptly ended a rehearsal as soon as their time was up.

The lack of clarity about compensation undermines both audience perceptions and the well-being of those involved. A particular crew member noted there was a "real lack of transparency" when it came to payments; confusion existed regarding who got paid and who worked without pay. The fear of being blacklisted by G&T Productions and Capital Theatre Trust stifles open conversations about paychecks, and creates a dangerous power dynamic, with companies being able to treat performers however they see fit.

As reporting for this article wrapped up, I was informed that volunteers were all given $100 at the Wicked afterparty. Such a gift did not happen at the end of G&T's production of Les Misérables last year.

Crunching the Numbers

The St James Theatre seats up to 1552 people, and Wicked performed 19 shows during its season. While Salient can’t confirm the number of tickets sold, they were advertised at an average price of $89.50.

According to Susan Pepperell, a Communications and Media Manager from St James, the costs associated with setting up and taking down a production can range from $5445 (+GST) for packing in and $7260 (+GST) for show day. Venue hire rates may be adjusted depending on the production.

The sets and costumes used for Wellington’s season of Wicked were re-used from previous productions in Auckland and Christchurch, significantly lowering production costs.

The Enigmatic Organisational Landscape

Understanding how exactly these productions go ahead with a volunteer workforce requires understanding the two entities producing Wicked: G&T Productions and Capital Theatre Trust. While they collaborate on the production, their legal statuses differ. G&T Productions is a limited company, while Capital Theatre Trust is a charitable trust. Capital Theatre Trust's website states they provide "quality, affordable, socially, financially, culturally, and environmentally sustainable accessible live entertainment”. Despite that mission, ticket prices for both Wicked and Les Misérables were not particularly accessible to students or those struggling with rising costs of living.

G&T Productions' website contains no explicit claims of affordability, but it does state that a share of its profits goes to trusts promoting NZ theatrical talent. There is no public information on which trusts receive funds or how precisely these funds advance local talent. The board of G&T Productions has not answered Salient’s requests for more information.

When I asked for clarification on the division of profits between Capital Theatre Trust and G&T Productions I was told by Sandy Brewer, the chairperson of Capital Theatre Trust, that individual confidential agreements between the two organisations and outside contractors meant that this information could not be disclosed.

The ' Charitable ' Aspect

At the Wellington Airport Regional Community Awards in August 2023, Capital Theatre Trust was honoured with the ‘Rising Star’ Award and was also a finalist for the ‘Arts and Culture’ category. The purpose of these awards is to celebrate volunteers committed to giving back to the community. When I questioned Brewer about how proceeds from Wicked benefit the community, she replied that "while the trust is in its growth phase, the profits from the shows simply contribute to the operating costs of the trust's current activities.”

Jo Maxwell, the Brand and Sponsorship manager for the Wellington Airport Regional Community Awards, told me “the awards are aimed at celebrating volunteers, rather than professional activities or companies. The Capital Theatre Trust clearly fits this criteria as they help volunteers gain valuable real-life experience with major productions. […] These volunteer roles are clearly advertised and understood as unpaid roles.”

Values and Inclusion

A goal of Capital Theatre Trust is to "recognise diversity", yet in March 2023, their actions did not live up to this mission statement.

At the auditions for Wicked, the trust (alongside G&T Productions) explicitly invited disabled performers to try out for the role of Nessarose in their casting call, a character depicted as using a wheelchair.

When Noah*, a disabled actor who uses a cane for mobility, arrived at the audition, they were put under scrutiny by sign-in personnel asking what “was wrong” with them. Noah relayed that during the audition, the panel members spent more time focusing on Noah's cane instead of their performance and cut their audition short, leaving them feeling exposed and excluded.

The hardest part was not being judged due to their disability—which they expected—but rather that theatre companies claimed to support disabled actors while treating them unfairly. This, Noah said, made them feel "awful" and "scared".

Funding a Season

The company and trust argue that producing shows of this scale is too financially risky to pay performers. However, tickets for Wicked were available for purchase as early as February 2023, before Wellington auditions had begun, and directly followed a sold-out season of the show in Auckland. Advertisements from G&T Productions declared that tickets would "WILL sell fast" and "WILL sell out" before the show opened.

While information from the cast and crew suggests that Wicked was projected to make substantial gains, Salient cannot confirm its box office takings. If budgets are tight, an option for productions is a profit-sharing system, where profits are dispersed among cast and crew once ticket sales surpass a certain minimum required to break even.

The profit-sharing model was used by Hell School: The Musical in the 2023 NZ Fringe Festival, and many other shows in the festival. A member of the organising team explained that by using a profit share model, “we were able to pay all the artists involved. This promoted equality throughout the team, because everyone was able to benefit from the financial success of the season, and it was a way to show appreciation of everyones' time and mahi. Recognising and compensating artists is vital in an industry that is becoming increasingly undervalued.”

Brewer made it clear that the stage crew and actors were aware that they would not receive financial compensation when they auditioned for the production. However, maintaining a status quo of unpaid and volunteer labour in the theatre industry creates problems for those wanting to work in New Zealand.

Grant Meese, the Operations and Artistic Manager at G&T Productions and director of Wicked player in this dispute. While he has not responded to requests for comment for this article, in a 2018 interview with Adam Goodall via The Pantograph Punch was asked about using a profit-share model, and argued that “I think the thing to remember [...] if there isn’t a profit, what happens then? Who takes that risk?” When pushed further, he stated, "I think the important stuff for what we’re doing is that it goes back into the community."

One of the crew members working on the current production of Wicked, who did not wish to be named, jokingly implied their unpaid labour was funding Meese’s holiday in Africa during the show’s season.

Impact on Performers

For hopeful performers, the lack of paid jobs in the industry takes its toll. I recently spoke to Te Auaha Musical Theatre graduate Jamie* who has since left show business due to the absence of compensated roles. “We can’t pursue the industry that we want. You don’t ask doctors to do medical procedures for experience outside of their industry. As soon as they have their degree they’re getting paid. So why is it different in the performing arts industry?”

For those in technical roles especially, not getting paid for their work can make it difficult. Working without getting paid on one show could mean undercutting those who earn money for similar services on other projects. This devalues technical skills across the whole industry.

The very essence of the arts is dependent on people who are willing to contribute out of love for their craft, and yet there's a stark contrast between amateur performances and company-produced shows like Wicked. The unfortunate reality is that many companies abuse artists by offering them ‘experience’ and ‘opportunities’ instead of a paycheck. This makes it difficult for performers to refuse to take unpaid roles, since they can be replaced quickly with those who are willing to work for free.

The Call for Change

The world of theatre is often portrayed as a place of beauty and emotion, but the story of underpaid talent is a reminder that success in the industry does not come without its struggles. The recent production of Wicked serves as evidence that performers deserve to be compensated for their invaluable contributions.

After all, the show wouldn’t be able to go on without them.

*names have been changed

Dear Aunty Vic

I broke up with my long-term boyfriend a year ago. I know he wasn't the right person for me, and we clashed in so many ways. However, I'm still as emotional about it as I was when we first split, and I miss him so badly. How do I fall out of love with someone and move on?

Firstly, there is no timeline for ‘moving on’. You can date someone for years and be over them in a matter of weeks. You can date someone for a matter of weeks and take years to get over them. Don’t beat yourself up that you’re not there yet. You will get there, I promise!

My gut reaction is that you’re nostalgic. That’s okay. We all get a little nostalgic about our past relationships. Even though you’ll love again, you’ll never love and live life the exact same way as you did with that person. Clearly, you understand why the relationship ended. You understand that going back is not a good idea, and it doesn’t seem like you want the relationship back. You just yearn for the idea of him, and miss it for what it was. Again, that is okay. There is something about yearning, wallowing, and having such a strong desire for a person that is inherently human.

To process those ‘missing him’ emotions, write down everything you miss. Cry. Listen to sad music. Sleep. Then go back the next day and think: is any of this real? Often nostalgia has a way of morphing our memories into only positives. I know your rational brain understands that this person wasn’t the right fit. Remind your emotional side that is the case too.

Reality is, the relationship is dead. You knew they weren’t the right person for you. If they came running back, begging to start again, would you say yes? I doubt it. So let’s look toward life outside of a relationship.

Shift your mindset. Without him, there’s no more bullshit, no more arguments, and no more worrying about another person. Good God, it’s much less stressful isn’t it? The only people you truly need to focus on are you, your friends, and your whānau. But most importantly, you!

The extra time on your hands is liberating. You’ve been handed an opportunity to do whatever you want. When you are newly single, it's tricky to think about what that actually is. Relationships are beautiful, but we always lose a tiny bit of ourselves to them.

So, start with something simple. Dedicate a Sunday to yourself. What makes you happy? Seeing friends? Your favourite gym class? Getting your nails done? Buying a book? Baking a cake? Think of one or two things that really make you feel good and do them! My challenge to you is to incorporate something slightly new when you do. Catch up with a friend you don’t regularly see, try a new gym class, or read a new genre of book. Make that Sunday activity ever so slightly different and edge out of your comfort zone.

Secondly, I challenge you to somehow incorporate exercise (or just being outside) into this Sunday activity. Walk to the nail salon, grab a coffee outside with your girlfriend, read your book in the sun. If the weather is bad, wrap up warm and think of it as an adventure.

Moving on from another person requires rediscovering yourself. Unfortunately, it’s lethargic to wallow in our nostalgia, often making a sickening cycle that blinds us to the reality that a more authentic, honest, and better version of ourselves is just around the corner. To move on, sometimes we just need time, and other times we need to reignite that spark of curiosity in rediscovering ourselves. Be curious and kind, and I can assure you there will be a day of break through just around the corner—you just have to help yourself.

Sp A c E J A m

DOWN

1. It might feature your name and pronouns, or your most recent Girl Guides achievement (5)

2. It's the largest country entirely within Europe (7)

3. "We'll never have to go through that again!" (4,3,3,3)

4. x or y, in a two-dimensional graph (4)

5. Words that mean the same thing (8)

6. West Ham United and the Wolverhampton Wanderers play in it (7,6)

ACROSS

1. Musician with the multi-platinum albums 'Unorthodox Jukebox' and '24K Magic' (5,4) *

6. New Zealand band that won Single of the Year in 2006 for 'Long White Cross' (5) *

9. North or south, for example (9)

10. Common assignment type in humanities courses (5)

11. Actor Wood who played Frodo (6)

12. 2009 film in which Morgan Freeman played Nelson Mandela (8)

14. With 15-Across, vocalist on 'Under Pressure' and 'Bohemian Rhapsody' (7,7) *

15. See 14-Across

17. East Coast city that hosts Rhythm and Vines (8)

19. What you might be solving this crossword with (6)

22. Pacific nation that has 171 islands (5)

23. Spanning; traveling to visit (5,4)

24. Word that can precede Navy, blue, and flush (5)

25. Band that covered Smokey Robinson's 'Get Ready' in 1970 (and made it seven times as long for some reason) (4,5) *

Find our crossword answers on our website or the Salient Linktree.

7. Distressed; overturned (5)

8. Epic poem by Homer about a long voyage (7)

13. One of many voting this year for the first time (8)

14. Warrior; combatant (7)

16. Reveal (7)

18. Youngest of the Baudelaire siblings, in 'A Series of Unfortunate Events' (5)

20. Move suddenly and violently; butler in 'The Addams Family' (5)

21. Fashion designer Christian (4)

WORD OF THE WEEK: ART

You are slowly merging into the person you’re seeing at the moment. They like Jeff Buckley? You like Jeff Buckley. They have a nose ring? Goodbye nose stud. They order a spiced rum and ginger beer? I can only guess what you’re drinking.

Set those boundaries with your family! No, Mum, you can’t call Taurus everyday and tag along every time they hang out with friends. What’s uncomfortable now will prove to be a good thing very soon. No more helicopter parents!

I have a feeling that a lot of you Geminis are first-years scrambling to get into a flat and out of the halls next year. Let me guess, you’re a Capital Hall resident desperate to escape scabies? Good luck soldier ('-'*ゞ

That upcoming 6000-word research assignment has got you reconsidering your life. I don’t know if you’re even enjoying this uni thing, man. You’re past 18 now. It’s time to stop factoring in your parents’ opinions when you make big decisions.

For the first time since you started your job, your manager isn’t gonna yell at you this week! Good job! No more tears in the dish pit or panic attacks behind the milk fridges. I’d recommend studying over the summer so you don’t have to go full time…

Rough night got you reconsidering your life choices? Did you hook up with someone you didn’t like just ‘cause you think you’re supposed to when you're this age? Did you get drunk to avoid social anxiety? You don’t look like yourself, Virgo.

Your friend has been keeping a secret from you. Actually, this is giving Welly Gal Pals drama before they banned us from talking about our boyfriends. Are anonymous confessions being screenshotted and circulated through group chats? Tea.

There are three basic rules when it comes to hooking up. 1. Don’t screw the crew. 2. Don’t get with your flatmates. 3. Don’t get back with your ex. By the end of this week, you’ll have broken all three in the span of a month. Good job

Your hard work is finally paying off! You’ve been studying so hard, and you’re about to get the best grade of your life! B+! That’s impressive for someone who doesn’t attend their lectures and hasn’t bought a text book since first year.

You have the same energy as someone who grew up in a conservative household and discovers that they can have a glass of wine with dinner and hold hands with someone they’re not married to without going to hell. The liberation is real.

You have entered a new era of spirituality. You started carrying a piece of rose quartz around with you to attract love, and it seems to have worked. Soon you’ll be burning spell candles and hexing all who dare to cross you.

Your hard work is paying off too, just like Sagittarius. You’re going to get recognition for something you wrote. Maybe the rock opera you submitted to get into the play writing course was the best decision you ever made?

Supreme Club & Gold Awards

Recognising outstanding contributions across cultural activities & clubs

If you, your club or someone you know has had some great achievement, nominate them for an award!

Nominations are open now!

Apply at vuwsa.org.nz/gold-awards by 12pm noon, Thursday 21 September.

For more information email golds@vuwsa.org.nz

LOOKING FOR THE RIGHT STUDY BUDDY?

THE TEAM

CO-EDITOR

Maia Ingoe (she/her)

CO-EDITOR

Francesca Pietkiewicz (she/they)

DESIGNER

Bella Maresca (they/them) @cupids.kiss

NEWS EDITOR

NEWS EDITOR Zoë Mills (they/she)

Ethan Manera (he/him)

CHIEF REPORTER

Niamh Vaughan (she/her)

Alex Marinkovich-Josey (he/him)

SUB-EDITOR

Tessa Keenan (she/her)

POETRY EDITOR

Maia Armistead (she/her)

EDITORIAL SUPPORT

Joanna Fan (she/her)

STAFF WRITER

Kiran Patel (he/they)

STAFF WRITER

Phoebe Robertson (she/her)

STAFF WRITER

Pippi Jean (she/her)

CONTRIBUTORS

Alfie Hartshorne (he/him)

Ella Hoogerbrug (she/her)

King Markiss (he/him)

Narik Letap (he/they) Puck (cross/word)

PODCAST MANAGER Simoné Botha (she/they)

PODCAST INTERN

SOCIAL MEDIA MANAGER

VIDEO CONTENT CREATOR Seren Ashmore (he/him)

Willem Koller (he/they)

Ethan Rogacion (he/him)

NEWS INTERN Jia Sharma (she/her)

WRITING INTERN

Special thanks to everyone who submitted work to our centrefold art competition ❤