BILL MURRAY | WES ANDERSON | KIMBRA | IAN MOSS
$7
No 559 6 – 19 Apr 2018
HELPING PEOPLE HELP THEMSELVES $3.50 of the cover price goes to your vendor
Special Report
116,427 HOMELESS Austr alians Are
Tonight
W H A T ’S R E A L L Y G O I N G O N ?
NATIONAL OFFICE Chief Executive Officer Steven Persson Chief Operating Officer Sally Hines Editor Amy Hetherington Chief Financial Officer Jon Whitehead National Marketing and Partnerships Manager Louise Gray National Operations Manager Jeremy Urquhart
The Big Issue is Australia’s leading social enterprise. We are an independent, not-for-profit organisation that develops solutions to help homeless, disadvantaged and marginalised people positively change their lives. The Big Issue magazine is published fortnightly and sold on the streets by vendors who purchase copies for $3.50 and sell them for $7, keeping the difference. Subscriptions are also available and provide employment for disadvantaged women as dispatch assistants. For details on all our enterprises visit thebigissue.org.au. Principal Partners
CONTACT US Tel (03) 9663 4533 Fax (03) 9639 4076 GPO Box 4911 Melbourne VIC 3001 hello@bigissue.org.au thebigissue.org.au WANT TO BECOME A VENDOR? If you’d like to become a vendor contact the vendor support team in your state. ACT – (02) 6234 6814 Supported by Woden Community Service NSW – (02) 8332 7200 Chris Campbell NSW + ACT Operations Manager Qld – (07) 3221 3513 Susie Longman Qld Operations Manager SA – (08) 8359 3450 Matthew Stedman SA + NT Operations Manager Vic – (03) 9602 7600 Gemma Pidutti Vic + Tas Operations Manager WA – (08) 9225 7792 Andrew Joske WA Operations Manager
Major Partners Allens Linklaters, Corrs Chambers Westgarth, Clayton Utz, Fluor Australia, Herbert Smith Freehills, Macquarie Group, MinterEllison, Mutual Trust Pty Ltd, NAB, Qantas, Realestate.com.au, Salesforce, The Ian Potter Foundation, William Buck Marketing/Media Partners Adstream, C2, Carat & Aegis Media, Chocolate Studios, Getty Images, Realview Digital, Res Publica, Roy Morgan Research, Town Square Distribution and Community Partners The Big Issue is grateful for all assistance received from our distribution and community partners. A full list of these partners can be found at thebigissue.org.au. The Big Issue is a proud member of the INSP, which incorporates 122 street publications like The Big Issue in 41 countries.
559
CONTENTS
COVER STORIES 14 MAKING CENSUS
The census results are in. So, what do they tell us?
15 HOW DOES IT FEEL?
What is it actually like to be homeless? Big Issue vendors share their experiences.
18 HOMING IN Crunching the numbers.
20 SIX WAYS TO STOP HOMELESSNESS
Homelessness is fixable. Here are some initiatives showing us how.
FEATURES
22 PROJECT HOME
THE BIG PICTURE What does home look like for Magnum photographers from around the world?
26 LETTER TO MY YOUNGER SELF Ian Moss on life before, during and after Cold Chisel – and the things that keep him going.
28 YEAR OF THE DOG
Bill Murray, Jeff Goldblum and Bryan Cranston walk into a room – and talk with us about the latest Wes Anderson film.
32 KIMBRA’S TIMBRE
Kimbra’s new album doesn’t pull any punches.
35 VAIK NEWS
A journey to a fictional world where men are held accountable for their actions.
REGULARS
04 ED’S LETTER, YOUR SAY 05 MEET YOUR VENDOR 07 STREETSHEET 08 HEARSAY 11 MY WORD 12 RICKY 13 FIONA
37 SELECT 38 FILM 39 SMALL SCREENS 40 MUSIC 41 BOOKS 43 PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT 44 PUZZLES 46 CLICK
DESPITE APPEARANCES, THIS MAGAZINE HAS NOT GONE TO THE DOGS. WE CATCH UP WITH THE STARS OF WES ANDERSON’S NEW FILM ISLE OF DOGS (MORE ON P28).
ED’S LETTER
YOUR SAY
116,427 TOO MANY
HEY LADIES!
I WAS BORN in Traralgon, a town about
two hours east of Melbourne. The name is said to mean “river of little fishes”. It’s Gunaikurnai land. It’s coal-fired country. I learned this week that Craig, a much-loved Melbourne vendor who’s well known for his cheeky patter outside Parliament Station, grew up there too. Over tea and toasties at our Friday mag launch, we discovered we were born less than two months apart and lived mere streets from each other. Later, at home, I studied my pre-school photos trying to find a familiar face… That would have been extraordinary. But no, our crossed paths weren’t ever captured on film. Instead I stared at all those four-year-old faces. How does one child end up growing up into homelessness? How do we live in a society that allows that to happen? New census figures reveal homelessness has grown by almost 14 per cent in five years. Tonight, there will be 116,427 people without a safe place to sleep. Tomorrow, the same. That’s 116,427 too many. To put those numbers into perspective, Traralgon is now home to about 25,500 people. Our homeless population would fill my home town nearly five times over. Most of our vendors, like Craig, have experienced periods of homelessness, in its many forms – from rough sleeping to couch surfing to boarding houses to crisis accommodation. In this edition, we go beyond the statistics to hear from the very people these numbers represent. Vendors from around the country share the lived realities of homelessness, and its pervasive impact on all aspects of their lives. Their stories are illuminating, devastating and dignified, and evidence that having a home means a lot more than having a place to sleep. Amy Hetherington, Editor
mistakes I made this time, I’ll just do it differently next time. It’s about I feel like the ladies of the not giving up, to keep trying. I Women’s Subscription LETTER believe we are not responsible Enterprise miss out a bit by OF THE FORTNIGHT for being down, however, we are not getting to chat with their responsible for getting up. subscribers, so I thought Kathryn Curtis, Heidelberg, Vic I’d send a cheerio. Two ladies named Jodi and Miriam Thank you for Dr Karl Kruszelnicki’s prepared my mag for me this week, article, ‘The Sound of Science’, and thanks ladies! I’m a 60-plus married the Ai Weiwei article in the same lady, retired now, which is why I don’t issue [Ed#557]. And thanks to our buy from a street vendor. There aren’t local seller, Tim, at Pitt Street Uniting any around me. I love the magazine, it Church. Their stories made me think is the best read in Oz. I do hope you’re of how we treat refugees. Those who both reaching out for your goals and will have come here by sea are appallingly soon have them firmly in your grasp. treated, as they are held hostage by Elizabeth Fisher, Riverton, WA the government on Manus As winner of this Island and Nauru. We know edition’s Letter of the some of the truth of what goes Fortnight, Elizabeth on there from 2016’s Nauru wins a double pass to Files. No wonder Australia is Wes Anderson’s new film internationally condemned. Isle of Dogs. See our interview p28. Stephen Langford OT (Order Well done on a fabulous edition of the of Timor), Paddington, NSW magazine [Ed#557], and highlighting adult literacy issues in Australia. Every day we hear stories similar to Peter’s. It @siftinsand is so important that we try to reduce the Happy Birthday Valentina stigma attached to low literacy – that Tereshkova, first woman in space is what will make people come forward 16 June 1963 [Ed#556]. Thank you and ask for help. to @thebigissue for your unique Read Write Now via Facebook reporting of news and events. I’m writing to tell you how much I enjoyed reading Ed#553, particularly the story of Willy, a vendor in Geelong who was featured in Meet Your Vendor. His confidence and losing half of his body weight are truly inspiring in regards to having a positive attitude and never giving up. Because of my own personal experience with mental illness, I’m able to empathise. Believing in what you’re capable of is a stepping stone to your ability to achieve the impossible. My favourite quote is “success is failure turned inside out”, inspiring me to realise whatever
COVER #559 ILLUSTRATION BY MICHEL STREICH
THE BIG ISSUE USES MACQUARIE DICTIONARY AS OUR REFERENCE. MACQUARIEDICTIONARY.COM.AU
» ‘Your Say’ submissions must be 100 words or less, contain the writer’s full name and home address, and may be edited for clarity or space.
MEET YOUR VENDOR SEAN J SELLS THE BIG ISSUE AT ADELAIDE RAILWAY STATION. I GOT BULLIED at primary school because I have an unusual birth mark on my head. I felt different to everyone else. It made it tough for me. Other kids used to beat me up. I didn’t have many friends. Most kids just ganged up on me. School felt like a prison to me. But the teachers were very nice and tried helping me catch up on the subjects I was struggling with and with the homework. High school was a bit better. Thank God that’s all over! Because of all this I took up karate and did it for two years. I have made it to blue belt. My dad had brown belt years ago. He was really good at it! In the past I worked at Bedford Industries in Pooraka for five years. Now I also work as a gardener in Alberton. My social worker helped me find it. I work two times a week. I like doing it. I do a bit of landscaping and planting. I’m on the disability support pension. I was born with Asperger’s syndrome. I first heard about The Big Issue from my friend a few years ago. “I LIKE She was a vendor. I needed extra money and she told me to give it MEETING NEW a go. I’ve been doing it since. I enjoy selling the mag. It’s good to PEOPLE, A LOT have something to do, a bit of a routine. I like meeting new people, OF THEM SAY a lot of them say hello. HELLO.” I like hanging out with my dad, sometimes we go out for something to eat. I have three stepsisters and a stepbrother and a half-brother. I’m the oldest one! I live mostly with my mum, but sometimes I go and stay with my dad. It’s more fun staying at Dad’s. He’s got two dogs, a Rottweiler and a Miniature Pinscher. I also like visiting my grandma. She will be 94 in May. She came to Australia in 1959. She is German. My grandpa was Polish, but he passed away when I was 16. My father is German, too, but I was born in Adelaide and have always lived here. I would like to go to Germany one day. I enjoy doing different things. As a kid I liked playing with toy trains. I also played football and sang in a school choir. Now I play cards, I also like bingo. I used to go to bingo with my grandma, but it’s getting too fast for her. I have a group of friends there now. I enjoy watching funny old movies. My favourite is The Three Stooges. I like American westerns. I listen to a lot of different music. Sometimes I play music on my pitch, it’s more fun this way. I like rap, rock’n’roll, pop and some German music. I go to Schutzenfest when I can, it’s good fun. I work pretty much every day, except when it’s raining. It’s hard to make sales when it’s wet. I work at the Adelaide Railway Station. I have a few regular customers. It’s good to have some extra money. Some people buy me a coffee, which is nice of them. I just want to keep selling The Big Issue and meet new customers and vendors, take it one day at a time.
interview by Alicja Clisby photograph by Nat Rogers
THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU 6–19 APR 2018
5
STREETSHEET Stories, poems and pictures by Big Issue vendors and friends FAREWELL FURBALL
To all of my customers and friends who liked Furball. I’m sorry to inform you all that Furball is no longer a Big Issue vendor as he passed away in late January. He will be sadly missed by all the staff and vendors who knew him. Always in my heart and thoughts. RIP Furball, my boy. Ricky M sells The Big Issue at the Hilton Hotel, Hungry Jack’s and Artisan Cafe, Rundle St, Adelaide.
WHAT’S IT LIKE TO BE HOMELESS?
To be blunt, Worthless You can see a community but never really be involved You can smell the food but never quite touch it You feel the friendship but never sense it You float through society and no-one sees Your humiliation What is it like to be homeless? Simply no control While others talk your life While you become a number While others talk and talk to better your life You survive alone and lost, the days become one What is it like to be homeless? As a mother Loved by your children, ignored by society A burden A problem A waste Abuser of children Never should have had children Are we better off dead? Lost in words, gossip and pride
Being homeless. Sometimes sad, sometimes fun. And sometimes heartbreaking. Thank god for the people that gave us donations and helped us out with food and blankets! Rain, hail, shine – life on the streets and in the squat. To be with our friends was all that we needed at the end of the day but being on the streets got really lonely in the end. The Big Issue helped me and my friend Aphirat, who I’d stayed with on the streets for the past 10 years. Thank you to those that helped us. Lynette W sells The Big Issue at Hay St Mall, Perth. What is it like to be homeless? In a society that supports and helps the homeless You see the division between government and community You hear the gossip in the schools and streets You feel the disgrace when you enter a room You try your best to not let the judgements and labels turn you away You feel the pain and stress of those that try to help You try to understand you are nobody You sense the lost imbalance of feeling I learned not to feel or explode or get sick or Just Stop – end it all just to stop feeling homeless And all that noise and confusion no-one stops To ask Me What is it like to be homeless, until The Big Issue, my little spot in Pyrmont and my university Now I understand, No-one understands What it is like to be homeless One day I hope no-one will ever have to understand What it is like to be homeless. Rachel T sells The Big Issue in Pyrmont, Sydney.
LOVE THOSE DOGS
I’m a dog person. One day a man with his labrador walked past my pitch. When I saw the dog, I felt happy and smiled at him. I showed the dog the picture of the dog with the lovely eyes in the article in the magazine. The owner approached me and said “he can’t read!” then walked away. On another occasion, outside the IGA in East Perth, I was trying to sell the ‘Rise of the Robots’ edition [Ed#546] that had the purr-fect cats for kids leaflet in it. A well-dressed lady got out of the car and when she saw the gorgeous cat named Bob from A Streetcat Named Bob in my hand, she suddenly approached me and said, “Yes, I love it!” “So do I, it’s a good film,” I replied. We had a good chat. She heard The Big Issue started in England but had never read it before in Australia. She ended up buying the magazine to give it a try. She told me how much she adores cats and showed me her pretty cat brooch on her dress before she left. That was a good day! Pat L sells The Big Issue at East Perth IGA, Royal Perth Hospital, QV1 and His Majesty’s, Perth.
» All vendor contributors to Streetsheet are paid for their work.
THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU 6–19 APR 2018
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HEARSAY WRITER RICHARD CASTLES
» CARTOONIST ANDREW WELDON
MY GRANDFATHER HAD A DREAM THAT HIS FOUR LITTLE CHILDREN WILL NOT BE JUDGED BY THE COLOUR OF THEIR SKIN, BUT BY THE CONTENT OF THEIR CHARACTER. I HAVE A DREAM THAT ENOUGH IS ENOUGH. AND THAT THIS SHOULD BE A GUN-FREE WORLD. PERIOD. Nine-year-old Yolanda Renee King, the granddaughter of Martin Luther King Jr, tells of her dream at the March for Our Lives rally in Washington. – Time (US)
EAR2GROUND “The bouncy thing! I went very up.” A youngster overheard talking about his favourite part of Family Fun Day at Down Syndrome Victoria: the Bungee Bounce – by Hillary of Coburg, Vic.
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THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU 6–19 APR 2018
“The temptation to silence young people has always existed. There are many ways to silence young people and make them invisible. Many ways to anaesthetise them, to make them keep quiet, ask nothing, question nothing. There are many ways to sedate them, to keep them from getting involved, to make their dreams flat and dreary, petty and plaintive. It is up to you not to keep quiet. Even if others keep quiet, if we older people and leaders, some corrupt, keep quiet, if the whole world keeps quiet and loses its joy, I ask you: Will you cry out?” Pope Francis calling on young people not to be quiet. He spoke a day after the March for Our Lives rallies in the US, in which thousands of young people marched for tougher gun laws. – The Washington Post (US) “I think the feedback that we’ve gotten from our community and from the world is that privacy and having the data locked down is more important to people than maybe making it easier to bring
more data and have different kinds of experiences.” Facebook boss Mark Zuckerberg on finally realising that people don’t want him to give away all their private information. He was speaking after it was revealed that data-science firm Cambridge Analytica had obtained the data of 50 million Facebook users. – Wired (US) “One of the most profound things about it for me is that in this era when we are all connected all the time, [surfing] is time out of the day where not only are you not connected to any device, you are connected to the ocean, a power far, far greater than you. You become this little speck, and if you are not present and don’t respect the ocean, you will be demolished by a wave.” Former Beastie Boy Mike D on the thrill of connecting to the ocean, by which he means the actual ocean, not some data storage facility. – Vulture (US) “Well, our embassy here, is quite small… We have embassies
PHOTO BY GETTY
“This year, if you look at fashion ad campaigns, there’s a person of colour in every campaign – and that’s a big deal. These magazines are such big deals because they shape how society sees beauty… This is the new way, we’re not a trend.” Supermodel Naomi Campbell on the fashion industry finally becoming a little more inclusive. – GQ (UK)
that are bigger in the US – well, [the US embassy] was big, now it is much smaller.” Russia’s ambassador to Australia, Grigory Logvinov, after two of its diplomats were ejected from Australia following the alleged chemical weapons attack on a former spy in the UK. The US has expelled 60 diplomats. – The Guardian “Like Nelson Mandela did – after 28 years in prison, he forgave and he forgot. And I think that is what we need to do – that everyone in this place, if you have your grievances or your differences, put them to one side, work together.” Senator Pauline Hanson compares herself to Nelson Mandela when describing the way she and Tony
Abbott have battled on, despite their trials and tribulations. – The Age “I really react to the crowd, just like a stand-up comedian would... If I finish a song and go, ‘Ta-da!’ and it’s crickets, I’m like, ‘Well, I don’t know what to do now. Am I supposed to play a heavier song, a faster song? Do you want me to play acoustic? Do you want me to leave? I’ll leave!’ But what I don’t like is, ‘Is that how they really feel, or are they just not even paying attention because they’re not engaged...because they’re texting?’ When you go to a movie theatre, a symphony, church, whatever – there are all these moments in life where people put those away and engage.”
Rock star Jack White on why he has announced a mobile phone ban for his upcoming tour. The ban will be enabled by Yondr, a technology service that locks concertgoers’ phones in a pouch during shows. – Rolling Stone (US) “The moment he tried to dispose of it in his pants, we knew that this was a major incident. Until then, we were not sure what we were looking at.” Alvin Naicker, the head of production at broadcaster SuperSport, who was in the director’s chair when #sandpapergate blew the sporting world apart. Maybe if Cameron Bancroft had just played it cool we never would have known! – Reuters
» Frequently overhear tantalising tidbits? Don’t waste them on your friends – share them with the world at submissions@bigissue.org.au
THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU 6–19 APR 2018
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MY WORD
I OF THE TIGER
NICK JAMES DURHAM FOUND A WAY TO EARN HIS STRIPES IN A NEW HOMEL AND.
PHOTO BY iSTOCK
“DID YOU SEE the Tigers on the
weekend?” asked my Grade Two classmate Billy as he swivelled around in his chair. I was confused. Tigers? Was he talking about the zoo? My first few weeks in Australia after migrating from England in early 1993 brought with them a few shocks. Thunderbirds wasn’t on the telly for starters. The rest of my family now being half a world away. The heat. Yet there was plenty that would soon become familiar. Milk bars. The scent of gum leaves roasting under the summer sun. Tanbark in the schoolyard. Greek swear words. But most of all, there was no escaping the alien rhythms of Australian Rules Football. Then, as now, its pull in Melbourne was pervasive. I succumbed. I immersed myself in “footy” and its idiosyncrasies, especially its language. I borrowed every book I could from the library and delighted in its unique vernacular and the voices that introduced it to me: Bruce McAvaney, Dennis Cometti, Drew Morphett and Sandy Roberts. You had to pick a team to “barrack” for, though. And at Richmond Primary you didn’t have much choice. At that school, nestled within the cottages and terraces and old factories that ran off Church Street, almost all the kids followed the sport and, while there were many whose allegiances were to Collingwood or Essendon, most supported the local team – the Tigers. You couldn’t miss the club’s presence in the suburb. It was part of the fabric. It was daubed on the walls. Its yellow and black livery dotted the aisles at Dimmeys department store and it was as recognisable a part of Richmond as any other landmark – that store’s clock
tower, The Swan Hotel, the Skipping Girl neon sign, the old Pelaco shirt factory up the road from our house. At school, we even had a “son of a gun” in our midst: Thomas Roach, son of Richmond legend Michael “Disco” Roach. Tom, later to play for the Tigers himself, was a fanatic. The image of his father’s famous mark in 1979 – that imperious, towering “speccy” – became fixed in your mind as much as it was fixed to the walls of backstreet pubs. We clung to the past, because the present was threadbare – though we did have Matthew Richardson to leaven the gloom. Richo, himself another son of a gun, played up forward and was tall, broad and dynamic. He carried our hopes on his back. Richo became emblematic of the Tigers – talismanic, too. Failure weighed heavily. The sight of the Richmond faithful commiserating after yet another defeat became as familiar as Dimmeys; an amorphous blob trudging from the MCG down Bridge Road like a thin cloud of despair, their faces as pinched and drawn and tired as any of those in a John Brack painting. Stars were also scapegoats. “Eat ’em alive,” the Tiger call-to-arms went – yet that attitude was often turned on the club itself. “Never again,” said Tom one Monday, “I’m sick of this club.” He said he’d rip Richo’s iconic number 12 from his guernsey. He didn’t. You couldn’t – not Richo. As the years went by there were some bright spots, but the ultimate success – a Grand Final victory – never felt like anything more than a faint glint on the horizon. Come high school, the baton of fellow fandom passed from Tom to my new friend George, a fellow son of migrants. His Greek father had seen
Tiger glory at the MCG in 1967. Another era – another world. Later, I’d move back to the UK in two separate stints. Thereafter, my contact with George was intermittent. When eventually I moved back to Richmond, my bond to the suburb had changed. The place had changed (some felt for the better), but my affection for it had waned. The milk bars had all but gone. Yet more apartments sprung up in their stead. In footy, the Tigers’ trajectory had curved upwards, then downwards again. The decline felt inexorable. That all changed last year. Inexplicably, the slide reversed. All the momentum was now with Richmond. Come September, I found myself at the MCG with George. It was the preliminary final, and the Tigers were suiting up in a bid to win a berth in the decider the following Saturday. Afterwards, victory secured, we found ourselves bouncing down Swan Street, elated. The street was a riot: scarves in car windows, horns honking, kick-to-kick alongside trams and speccys next to The Swan Hotel. Thirty-seven years was the gap between Tiger triumphs. After a drought, the deluge: Richmond won, and the Grand Final passed in a happy blur that left my tear ducts working overtime. I’d made no post-game plans to meet George, yet we managed to find each other in the throng along Swan Street, like two pilgrims drawn to Mecca. A cigar passed between us, and a few Greek swear words too. “My dad told me he loved me,” said George, as if those words were as rare as Richmond glory.
» Nick James Durham is a writer and sport enthusiast who works in vendor support in the The Big Issue’s Melbourne office. THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU 6–19 APR 2018
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RICKY WANTED: ONE CAR. Four wheels and a
key. Something simple, please. I’ll supply the A and the B, you find me the way to get between them. It would be nice to not have to look for a car. But alas I have no choice, having just played my part in the timehonoured family tradition of lending your car to your cousin so he can crash it. My dad’s cousin Michael still holds the record for Most Spectacular Inferno. He cartwheeled the ute off an unexpected bend on Jamberoo Mountain in 1989, leaving himself with a lifelong busted shoulder and my dad somewhat late for work. My own cousin Louis (yes, it’s name and shame time) wasn’t as dramatic with his effort, succeeding only in nudging the rear end of a Corolla, causing a trillion dollars worth of damage in the process. Such is the modern world. I thought it was great news. We have full, comprehensive insurance on the car, just like real adults would. I rang the garage. I have a special voice reserved for mechanics. I imagine I grew up in Deniliquin, drink Bundy and Coke and have a best mate called Buzzo. “Yeah, mate,” I drawled, “the insurance company will take care of it, just make sure ya give that shitty bonnet a whack with a hammer so we can get a new one outta them, if ya know what I mean.” The mechanic knew what I meant, but didn’t share my enthusiasm for insurance fraud. Not for ethical reasons, mind you, but practical ones. He knew they were going to write the car off. “No point getting comprehensive insurance on something this old and clapped out,” he lectured. “Most adults know that.” Three days later we were cleaning out our family car. I scraped my fingernails through a decade of dust to salvage every last five cent piece under the seats. I took the jack, the seat covers and, most poignantly of all, the little nodding dog blu-tacked to the dash. The tacky,
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THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU 6–19 APR 2018
“I have a special voice reserved for mechanics. I imagine I grew up in Deniliquin, drink Bundy and Coke and have a best mate called Buzzo.”
disintegrating mutt has been everywhere with me for nearly 20 years. Our journey will continue. The insurance company then sent an email confirming that yes, they were in fact wankers. They settled upon a measly sum for the car, then gleefully laid out a lavish list of deductions. The final payout came to something like $13.25. The mechanic gave us a new car on loan for a few days and for a moment I thought I could get used to a car like this, until I realised I couldn’t work out how to turn on the headlights. “It’s got keyless entry, push-button start, auto-toileting,” the mechanic said, tossing a key ring with no key at me. I got in the driver’s seat and looked for somewhere to store it. In the old days it would have a key attached and I would store it in the ignition. The push-button start looked like something you’d normally roll down the windows and shout “Clear prop!” before pressing. The car turned itself off every time you pulled up at a red light. I was used to this, though, having once owned a Cortina. “It’s very fuel efficient,” I was informed. At least the thing took fuel. I was worried I was going to have to find a USB plug to charge it. That ordeal is coming, I’m sure. I couldn’t lock it. I stood by the door pushing the lock button but it never locked. Turns out if you want to lock the car you have to put the I-can’t-believeit’s-not-a-key thing in your pocket, turn round and walk away from the car – the way you might do if you had given up on it completely – then it locks. No thanks. I need a car. A simple car. One that locks by way of key or coat hanger, the way God intended. The happiness of a brittle, UV-ravished nodding dog depends on it.
» Ricky French (@frenchricky) is a writer, musician and former Cortina driver.
PHOTOS BY JAMES BRAUND
Know When To Holden
FIONA
A Hard Day’s Knight I MISSED OUT on the Beatles. Too young.
I have one album, A Collection of Beatles Oldies, which has a lurid psychedelic cover and was a cheeky stop-gap of hits pushed out by their record label between Rubber Soul and Sgt Pepper’s. I bought it as a teenager because it had ‘Michelle’ on it which, as a dramatic young woman with the sensitivity of an exposed tooth, I’d listen to on repeat with tears of longing pouring down my cheeks. I was a water wall of misery, triggered by the romance of a song that was, on reflection, a cheap ploy to get into a foreign girl’s knickers. As a grown up I do rather like Sgt Pepper’s. It’s my favourite “commit suicide in traffic/abandon your parents” album. But I don’t care about the Beatles. Good on them, clearly excellent music, as you were, you had to be there, no truly I don’t need another documentary/book/box set of hits/barrel scrape from their archive of never-released D sides. A few years back my boyfriend did a quick photoshop of our four chickens into an image parody called Let It Beak, but that’s the extent of my interest. So, I surprised myself by being moved recently by the knighthood for Beatles drummer Ringo Starr. Arise Sir Richard Starkey! Did you see the smile on his face? Broad as a welcome-home hug. There was a man enjoying his moment, and so he bloody well should. It’s been 21 years, after all, since fellow Beatle Paul McCartney was knighted in 1997. That’s a looong wait. It’s got to give you the irrits. What, you don’t think it was niggling? Yeah, it was. “Well, it’s about time,” Starr said in 2015, after being inducted as a solo artist into America’s Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, not so hot on the heels of John Lennon (1994), Paul McCartney (1999) and George Harrison (2004). Even more galling, apparently Starr got the nod because McCartney agreed to host the ceremony. Ringo’s the least-rated Beatle, the “nongenius”, the fourth banana, consistently slagged off and joked about. English
“A few years back my boyfriend did a quick photoshop of our four chickens into an image parody called Let It Beak, but that’s the extent of my interest.”
comic Jasper Carrott’s gag (once attributed to Lennon), was that Ringo’s not the best drummer in the world, he’s not even the best drummer in the Beatles. Oh, how Ringo must laugh at that one. Even in February this year Quincy Jones rubbished Starr in an interview in Vulture (“Ringo? Don’t even talk about it,” he said, after dismissing the entire band as “no-play motherfuckers”). Back in the day, Ringo was the one groupies crawled over to get to John and Paul. If the Beatles were high school, Ringo was picked last for sports. Every. Single. Time. It must be tough, doing a damn fine indispensable job in the shade cast by three giants. Ringo’s drumming has been thoroughly vindicated (google “Ringo’s no joke”), but though the Beatles couldn’t have done it without him, he’ll always be the lesser star. It was the same at school with the Bay City Rollers. The most popular girls in our group got to like Les, the lead singer, and Eric, the guitarist. Those of us further down the pecking order had to grudgingly make do with Alan, who was probably in his late twenties but looked like someone’s dad, or Derek (not coincidentally, the drummer). What was it like being in One Direction and not being Harry Styles? In Take That and not Robbie Williams? In The Supremes and not Diana Ross? Being Art Garfunkel instead of Paul Simon? A universe of post-show parties where everyone’s making small talk and looking over your shoulder in search of the main prize. But that’s nearly all of us. Beavering away unacknowledged, knowing that without us the star can’t shine. We are nearly all second, third, or 18th bananas. So, thanks, Ringo, for your knighthood. Arise, Sir All Of Us. Finally.
» Fiona Scott-Norman (@FScottNorman) is a writer, comedian and one cool banana.
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COVER STORY
MAKING CENSUS
WHEN THE AUSTRALIAN BUREAU OF STATISTICS ANNOUNCES THAT 116,427 PEOPLE ARE HOMELESS, IT CAN BE EASY TO GET LOST IN NUMBERS. BUT EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THOSE NUMBERS IS A PERSON WHO DOESN’T HAVE A SAFE PL ACE TO SLEEP TONIGHT. WHAT’S YOUR FAVOURITE time of day?
That first moment you wake up, stretching away a cosy night’s sleep? Maybe it’s that moment you leave the office, headed for home? Or the instant you walk in the front door to your tail-wagging dog? That second you collapse into a comfy bed and curl up to a loved one? It’s the early evenings that hurt most, says Sheldon, a Big Issue vendor who has lived on the streets of Melbourne, Sydney and Brisbane between rooming houses and private rentals over the years. “As I walked through the streets of the city and inner suburbs all I noticed was the comfort and security of other people’s lives,” he remembers. “…[And] the
now outnumbers most of our regional centres. There are more people without a home than live in the whole of Port Macquarie (78,500), Launceston (81,000), Bendigo (94,300) and Bunbury (102,600). If you imagine homelessness as a city, it’s the size of Rockhampton or Mackay. That number is mind-blowing. It means on the night of the August 2016 Census count, just a week after Homelessness Week, in mid-winter, 1 in 200 of us were considered homeless. That number includes rough sleepers but, overwhelmingly, our homeless population is less visible. As Adelaide vendor Ricky says, “Homelessness includes anybody that doesn’t have a place of their own. It
“IF YOU IMAGINE HOMELESSNESS AS A CIT Y, IT’S THE SIZE OF ROCKHAMPTON OR MACK AY.” depressing fact that at the end of the day I was still without a home.” Vendor Tukuf wakes up every morning to the squawk of seagulls in the innercity park where he’s been sleeping. “The first thing I do is check that my bag and belongings are still there and that they haven’t been stolen,” he writes. Today. Tonight. Tomorrow. There are more than 116,000 Australians like Sheldon and Tukuf who are homeless. The new census figures, released by the ABS last month, reveal that homelessness has increased almost 14 per cent in five years, outstripping population growth at nine per cent. It is this transience that makes homelessness difficult to quantify. There is no simple box to tick on the Census form, no single variable. It is an informed estimate, that is generally considered an underestimate. But the snapshot is clear: homelessness is getting worse. In real terms, our homeless population 14
THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU 6–19 APR 2018
can be anything from a tent, car, caravan park, park bench, street, friend’s couch, a backyard or boarding house.” The numbers – in more detail on p18 – paint a picture of the most vulnerable in our community. Homelessness has tripled among people aged over 65, and young people (under 25) make up 38 per cent of our homeless population. That includes 15,872 children under 12 who don’t have a safe place to sleep on any given night. Migrants and Indigenous Australians are grossly over-represented. And while the numbers show who is suffering, they don’t explain why. The causes of homelessness are varied and complex. Family violence remains the leading cause in Australia, especially for women and children, and the Australian Institute of Health and Welfare reports the problem has grown in the past five years. “Homelessness is not a lifestyle choice, it reflects a systems failure and, most critically, a shortage of affordable
housing,” Jenny Smith, chairwoman of Homelessness Australia (HA) told The Guardian. As of June last year, there were almost 195,000 people on the waiting list for social housing across the country. Emergency accommodation can’t keep up: tonight, homelessness services will turn away about 250 people they’re unable to provide with a bed. HA says that one in 10 Australian households are in “housing stress” and at risk of homelessness. They are stretched by rent or mortgage payments more than 30 per cent of their income. That is an additional 850,000 people. But homelessness is not an unsolvable problem. We outline some ideas that are reducing homelessness around the world on p20. Closer to home, a coalition of housing bodies and homelessness providers have launched the Everybody’s Home campaign, calling for a national strategy to meet the shortfall of 500,000 affordable homes needed to meet demand. For us, homelessness has been our biggest issue since we launched 22 years ago. In our very first magazine, we set out our goal: to provide the people who sell our magazine with an income, a means to fight their way back into society. And to give our vendors a voice. That’s why we’ve asked our vendors to share with you their lived experiences of homelessness on these pages. And why we’ll be bringing you a series of stories about homelessness in Australia in the coming weeks, written by the men, women and teenagers who are among the nation’s 116,427 people who are without a place to call home on any given night. Their voices are important. They deserve to be heard. by Amy Hetherington (@AmyHetherington), Editor
ILLUSTRATIONS BY TOM JAY
HOW DOES IT FEEL? BIG ISSUE VENDORS SHARE WHAT IT’S ACTUALLY LIKE TO BE HOMELESS.
I once had to spend nine months living in a backpackers while waiting for transitional housing. I was abused and bullied by people staying there and discriminated against by staff. I had to share a room with up to 10 people, including men. I got bed bugs and scabies, and everything was dirty. I could not wash my clothes in the washing machine as they would come out dirtier, so I handwashed them, but could not hang them out for too long as they would get stolen. There was constantly music from the nightclub across the street and people came and went at all hours so sleep never came easily. When I moved to St Barts transitional housing, it felt like heaven. Pat, His Majesty’s, Perth The first thing you learn about being homeless is to always watch your back. The worst thing is you can’t really sleep well – you always sleep with one eye open. The insecurity you feel is indescribable and the paranoia is off the charts. Marcus, Concord and Five Dock, Sydney One of the toughest things is lack of security. If I don’t have anything to calm the nerves, it’s really hard to sleep. I often look up at the expensive highrises and wonder what their lives are like. What is it like to go and buy a trolley full of food? I never planned on being homeless. Jason B, Tattersalls Arcade, Edward St, Brisbane Hopeless – that’s what it feels like to be homeless. There are not enough places out there for all of us. It hits you in the guts, makes you feel low and not worth anything. It is just shit, and THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU 6–19 APR 2018
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now I need to find somewhere new to live again in the next two weeks for me and my cats. Last time this happened I ended on the streets and had to pay for my cats to go to a cattery until I got housing sorted. Brett, West Perth When I wake up in the morning the first thing I do is check that my bag and belongings are still there and that they haven’t been stolen. Luckily, it’s never happened to me before. The park that I sleep in has other people sleeping there as well. We all know each other and at night we sit around and chat. I’ve been there nearly 18 months. At least two out of five days someone wakes me up in the middle of the night and asks for cigarettes, rollie papers, small change. I even had people ask me for directions to the bus stop or tram stop. I think people do it on purpose to annoy me. The seagulls are my personal alarm clock, they always squawk near me between 7 and 7.30am until I wake up, then they leave straight away. Today they started at 7.20am – I checked my watch to see what time it was. Tukuf, Melbourne CBD Homelessness follows you around; there’s no escaping it while you’re in a hostel. Privacy is non-existent – there are communal showers and dormitory sleeping. Many of those alongside you are simply men needing assistance with mental health issues, making for an uneasy, tension-filled environment. Sleeping with your belongings tied to your legs or to the bed is not uncommon, as those with life-ruining dependencies would steal them to convert into cash. Not that you can have many belongings. Homeless hostels have little in the way of storage space for goods, so almost everything you possess has to be discarded other than the things you can physically carry. There is no release or freedom from the tension. By definition anyone who is homeless is enduring a crisis and people in the midst of a crisis are volatile and unpredictable. They are also extremely vulnerable and sadly there are those who exploit that. 16
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Homeless hostels are well known to all the different agencies and so when you give out your address to Centrelink, police, post office, a doctor or anyone you might encounter on the road to re-establishing yourself, it’s a stark admission that “I have failed”. People might wonder why living in a hostel is considered “being homeless” – after all you have a roof over your head and in most cases have at least one meal a day. Unfortunately, the demand for places far outstrips supply. Homeless hostels are not a permanent solution. Most can only offer a temporary stay, which could be as little as a few weeks. In that time they hope you can get your life back on track by organising your finances, organising housing, organising your health needs, rebuilding relationships with family… it’s a tall order. The pressure on places is such that you have to be turned out again whether you succeed in these things or not. For every space in a hostel I got the impression 100 people are clamouring at the door. Ben G, QPAC end of Victoria Bridge, Brisbane
“HOMELESSNESS FOLLOWS YOU AROUND; THERE’S NO ESCAPING IT WHILE YOU’RE IN A HOSTEL.” What I remember about being homeless is being hungry. Sitting in the park in the evening and watching couples and families having their picnics and enjoying their food – I just wanted something to eat. There are places for people to get food, I just did not know where to go when I was on the streets. Caroline, London Court, Perth Sleeping on the street is very scary and unsafe. I didn’t get much sleep and was always interrupted by noises like cars, trains and people. Sometimes I would sleep near a shopping centre but security
would always move my stuff and tell me to leave. I even got kicked by a security guard once. I then found an abandoned building. It was falling down and pretty dangerous but I felt safer there. Garry, Flagstaff Station, Melbourne I was sleeping rough for a long time, since I was 14. I was scared the first time, I didn’t know anyone. I had terrible sleeps – the concrete was hard and hurt my back. Eventually I met Wayne Perry but everyone called him Mouse. We became friends. We would walk the streets together, and he kept an eye out for me. It helps having a friend on the street. Willy, Geelong and Melbourne Being homeless can be isolating and lonely. There are many moments of desperation and hardship. Your survival depends on your resilience, determination, resourcefulness and your capacity to survive in the face of such adversity. However, you get a unique comradery with others in your situation. You can be living in the gutter but looking at the stars. Graham H, West End, Brisbane I remember sleeping rough in the middle of winter. It was hard every night to find somewhere safe and warm to sleep. Usually I would end up walking from the city to the suburbs and back again all night. I would always be thinking of what I could possibly do tomorrow to get a roof over my head the following night. Come dawn, I would get on the train to Mandurah then Joondalup – it was the only way to get some sleep in relative safety. I don’t know if people realise how exhausting it is to be homeless and how distressing it is to always feel unsafe. When I finally got stable accommodation, it took me months to stop tossing and turning throughout the night. Coco, ABC, East Perth Years ago, I used to sleep behind a church. On the back wall was painted a huge mural of Jesus Christ on the crucifix. I’d always feel safer when I slept there knowing someone was looking down on me and watching out for me. Kevin, Anzac Tunnel, Brisbane
I like that I work close to where I am sleeping. I was getting threats where I was living before but I feel safe where I am now. I always make sure there are cameras near me at night. Magoo, Adelaide St, Brisbane When you come to the realisation that you do not have one friend or family member that will put you up – it is a feeling of isolation and loneliness like no other. You feel exposed, shameful and alone. Every day, your aim is to find food and a shower. There is a particular smell to homelessness, but I can’t describe it. Two vendors took me into their squat. Thank God for them. Rach M, George St, Brisbane Being homeless is as much about freedom and getting to know people as anything else. There are no rules and few responsibilities. That’s not to say there is no risk, from other people, police and the elements, especially in winter. That’s when your sleeping bag is your best friend. There are always smells and sounds, especially of cars and motorbikes. They actually comfort me, probably because my old man owned a taxi company. I guess I can find my home anywhere. Jamie, East Perth I slept rough by the river in South Perth, so I always woke up to the smell of nature, freshly cut grass. In the morning I would go to the Salvos and get fed. Then I would go to a day centre to get washed. What really hit me was how many people walk past and don’t take any notice of you. Everyone chatting, laughing and meeting friends. I wished I could be one of them. But when you are on the streets you don’t exist, you aren’t even a number to them. The only people that took notice would be the cops or council workers who move you on. I had a very strong sense of belonging with other street people, especially other Indigenous people. We always had each other’s backs. We were like one big family, we had to be, to survive. Those were very hard and dark times. A lot of my friends didn’t make it through. Vernon B, Adelaide
I became homeless when I was 13. At first, I stayed at friend’s homes, sleeping in a bedroom with other people, on the couch and staying in garages. It was a very lonely time. Being homeless means you always have to watch your back. There was nobody that I could trust. There are lots of people who would rip you off. Lots of times I have had all my stuff stolen. One of the worst things about being homeless is the lack of sleep. Today I have sleeping problems from being homeless. Today I live at Common Ground and have my own unit, safe and happy. Grant, Canberra
“EVEN TODAY, THE SMELL OF A BATHROOM AND BAD COFFEE REMIND ME OF BEING HOMELESS.” The scariest thing about being homeless was worrying about the police taking me to jail for vagrancy. Even today, the smell of a bathroom and bad coffee remind me of being homeless. Daniel K, Adelaide The early evenings were always the hardest part of the day. As I made my way back to whichever empty warehouse, squat, lane or freeway offramp that was currently a safe place to sleep, I’d sink into the deepest parts of homeless depression. The daylight hours were tolerable. Some days were almost enjoyable. Usually the ones when I could scrape together enough cash to indulge in one or more of the various illicit substances available on the streets. Though it was only a temporary escape, the drugs provided a release from the depressing fact that at the end of the day I was still without a home. And that fact was what made those evenings so hard to deal with. As I walked through the streets of the city and inner suburbs all I noticed was the comfort and security of other people’s lives. Whether they were sitting in the cafes and bars, enjoying a meal and a drink with their
friends, or curled up on the couch settling in for a night of televised banality. For me, it brought back memories of better times and better places. Memories, some merely weeks old, some reaching back to childhood – resulting in an emotional mix of loss and desire to regain a sense of safety and security. Something that many take for granted as they climb into their comfy beds, beneath their warm doonas and soft sheets. But standing there, my life contained within the small pack slung over my shoulder, there’s nothing I can do except push those emotions back down deep inside. Then continue on my way to my sleeping spot and hope my cardboard mattress hasn’t been removed. Wrapped in my blanket, my pack for a pillow, I’ll drift off to sleep hoping the next day will be better, or at least decent. Sheldon C, Acland St, Melbourne I was homeless for 10 years, sleeping rough. I felt like a zombie. You are alive, but you don’t really exist. Your depression just spirals, and you don’t wanna do anything. Now, when I look at other homeless people and alcoholics I know how they feel. They are dead. You don’t feel anything, you can’t taste anything because of the alcohol. Most of the time it’s quiet and you feel peaceful. The only sounds that broke the silence were the sounds of police cars arriving and shining bright torches into our eyes and telling us to move on. They don’t tell you where to go…they just tell you to go. Simon, Adelaide CBD I was first put out on the streets when I was eight years old by my father. Every noise at night was very scary, you don’t know if you will be safe. Having no place to call home wasn’t easy when people out there look at you like you are the scum of the earth. If it weren’t for charities that give a person a place to go and get hot showers and meals, you would have nothing. But other people on the streets will make sure you stay safe; they all look after each other more than someone that has a home. Ricky M, Adelaide CBD THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU 6–19 APR 2018
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HOMING IN
HOMELESSNESS HAS GONE UP SINCE THE 2011 CENSUS. BUT WHAT DOES THAT ACTUALLY MEAN? WE BREAK DOWN THE NUMBERS OF THE 2016 CENSUS.
AUSTRALIA’S GROWING HOMELESSNESS PROBLEM
116,44277 558% 442% GENDERS
People are homeless in Australia each night… That’s more people than fills the MCG
NATIONAL HOMELESS RATE
116,427 An increase of
13.7%
Male
102,439
2011
YOUTH HOMELESSNESS
38%
of people experiencing homelessness are under 25
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THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU 6–19 APR 2018
AGE
2016 35–44 15,745
25–34 24,224
45–54 14,278
19–24 17,725
55–64 10,682
12–18 9,955 Under 12 15,872
65–74 5,651 75+ 2,289
MCG PHOTO BY GETTY
Female
WHERE ARE PEOPLE STAYING?
7% Rough sleepers
18 % Suppor ted accommodation
OVERSEAS-BORN AUSTRALIANS ARE OVER-REPRESENTED
44 %
15 % Temporary stays
Severely crowded dwellings
15 % Boarding houses
HOMELESSNESS NATIONALLY
28.2%
12%
Population born overseas
19% 8%
5%
32%
46%
1%
21%
of the homeless population were born overseas
MOVEMENT
INDIGENOUS AUSTRALIANS ARE OVER-REPRESENTED
THE MEAN PRICE OF HOUSING IS UP 36% NATIONALLY
NSW UP 27 %
VIC UP 11 %
QLD UP 9 %
1%
1%
15% 2% 20% 2.8%
Indigenous population
of the homeless population are Indigenous
13% 23% 117%
64%
66%
ACT
71% THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU 6–19 APR 2018
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Homelessness can be complex, emotional, overwhelming. Its fingers long and ferocious. There are many things that can cause it, and sustain it. But it is not unfixable. So much work is being done around the world to address the causes. But one simple way to pull people out of homelessness long term is to give them a home. Katherine Smyrk looks at some initiatives that are doing just that.
1. TINY COMMUNITIES Not just the domain of millennials seeking a cheap – and very Instagrammable – life, tiny houses are helping homeless people around the world by offering flexible and affordable housing. But an organisation in Austin, Texas, has created an entire tiny house community for the homeless. Called Community First, the enterprise has built a village of tiny houses, caravans and RVs on an 11-hectare property that lies about 15 kilometres out of the city. The property also has a garden, church, chickens, bee hives, gallery, medical facility and theatre. It is about more than a roof over a head – as CEO Alan Graham says, “Housing will never solve homelessness, but community will.” The site houses about 200 people, and they are looking to add 350 more homes.
2. ROBOT BUILDERS It might sound like the recondite plot from a science fiction novel, but robots are now helping with the housing shortage. There is an Australian-designed robot that can build a brick house in two days. Builders upload a file of the house design, the robot cuts each brick, coats them with adhesive and puts them in place (without the need for water or mortar). These efficiencies dramatically cut the cost of building – meaning it can be scaled up in a big way. As Mike Pivac, CEO of Fastbrick Robots said: “If we’re going to satisfy the global need for low-cost housing over the next 30 years, as we add another three billion people to the planet, we see solutions like this as being very, very important.”
3. HOUSING FIRST The idea of Housing First is quite simple: get people who are homeless straight into permanent homes. No strings attached. Then, once they have a roof over their heads, they have a stable base from which to seek out any other help or services they might need. Used all over the world, this model seems to be best implemented in the Nordic paradise known as Finland, where the approach has been countrywide and comprehensive. The government has invested greatly in affordable housing, including converting unused spaces, ensuring that there are enough houses – an essential element in the plan. And it’s working. Shelters are closing down because of lack of demand – and often being turned into affordable housing options. Finland is the only country in Europe that has seen homelessness figures go down. No wonder the UN just named it the world’s happiest country. 20
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6HOMELE WAYS
by Katherine Smyrk (@KSmyrk), Deputy Editor
4. AFFORDABLE HOUSING FOR ALL Vienna isn’t just palatial vistas and Sigmund Freud. The city regularly features in those ubiquitous “World’s Most Liveable Cities” lists (watch your back Melbourne). And it’s not hard to see why: the Vienna Housing Model. Sixty per cent of the Viennese population live in housing that is built, owned or managed by the city. Rent across the city is also regulated by the government, so no resident pays more than 25 per cent of their household income for housing. Why 25 per cent? A common measure for “housing stress” is a household that spends 30 per cent or more on rent or mortgage payments. In Sydney, the average rent sits at just over 37 per cent of average weekly earnings. In Vienna, a quarter of the city housing stock is earmarked for lower-income residents. The city government tenders out parcels of land to private developers, who compete for the contract. The winner will be the one that rates highest on architectural quality, environmental performance, social sustainability and economic parameters such as proposed rent levels and costs. The emphasis on social housing in Vienna dates back to the early 20th century, when the majority socialist government made housing a real priority. The policy has seen decades of success, but has recently struggled to keep up with demand as Europe struggles to cope with high unemployment rates.
5. COMMUNIT Y INVESTMENT It’s predicted that there will be a shortage of 600,000 affordable homes by 2030. Making up that shortfall will take money. Homes For Homes – an initiative launched by The Big Issue in 2015 – is a new source of funding for community housing. Individual home owners and developers can register a property with the enterprise. When the property is sold, the owner makes a donation of 0.1 per cent of the property sale price. This money is invested with experienced housing providers to increase supply of social and affordable dwellings. Based on conservative assumptions, Homes for Homes can raise more than $1.8 billion of new funding over 30 years for the housing we so desperately need.
6. EMPT Y HOUSES
TO STOP
SSNESS
“Housing crisis” means not enough houses, right? But results from the 2016 Census show that one in 10 dwellings in Australia sit empty. That’s more than one million homes. Meanwhile, waiting lists for public housing groan under the weight of people in need. It’s a trend that can be seen around the world. The northern England city of Leeds has devised a unique approach to this problem, with the Empty Homes Doctor. Bringing together property development, real estate and housing experts, the Doc is less GP in white coat, and more a free service that engages property owners to help them take the necessary steps to make their house available again. It starts off with an assessment of the property and the owner’s individual situation, then the Doc develops an action plan and one-on-one support to make sure it happens. The program has so far brought 200 properties in the city back into use, providing much-needed extra houses. THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU 6–19 APR 2018
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THE BIG PICTURE » SERIES BY MAGNUM PHOTOS
BIG PIC 22
THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU 6–19 APR 2018
PROJECT HOME
SIX TEEN PHOTOGRAPHERS DISCOVER WHY “HOME” IS THE NICEST WORD THERE IS. PORT ADELAIDE, 2017, AUSTRALIA © TRENT PARKE/MAGNUM PHOTOS
“THE ACHE FOR home lives in all of us,” Maya Angelou once wrote. “The safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.” What does home mean to you? For me, home is the place on the coast where I grew up, the smell of fish and chips and the scratchy feeling of sand in bed. It’s the stream of light that dances through the kitchen windows in the morning, casting lace shadows on the sink. It’s the comforting rhythm of a commuter train. It’s the opal ring on my right hand that used to belong to my grandmother. It’s the squawk of Evelyn next door –“Shut up, Ted!”– shouting at her yappy little dog. It’s a bowl of spaghetti bolognaise. It’s also a rewarding topic to turn your camera to. Which is precisely what a group of 16 photographers from the prestigious Magnum Photos agency did. In a collaborative project with Fujifilm – who provided each photographer with the same mirrorless, medium format camera – this international crew of acclaimed photojournalists, artists and street photographers did something they seldom do: they turned their cameras back on themselves, and invited us to experience their relationship with that most inviting of words. For some, the Home project was about identity. For others, it was about displacement. Some photographers looked to the past, while others focused firmly on the future. There are stories of welcome and of farewell, of discovery and redemption. These 16 photo essays across 10 countries chronicle birth and coming of age, holidays and quiet routines, trauma and fleetingness, banality and joy. Some of the pictures nod to memory and the passing of time; many show love. For Trent Parke, the only Australian Magnum photographer, home is where he finds his inspiration. “The late sharp Australian light,” he says, “it’s almost impossible to ignore it.” His haunting, painting-like series, which was taken around Port Adelaide in the twilight, is an ode to the modernist painter Jeffrey Smart, who for a time also called Port Adelaide home. This project proves that home is a subject of almost endless potential. It’s a place you can go and a way you can feel. It’s where the heart is. It looks different for everyone, but our desire for it is universal.
by Mel Fulton » An exhibition of the Home series is touring internationally. For more information home-magnum.com. The photobook Home can be ordered from shop.magnumphotos.com. THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU 6–19 APR 2018
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BOTTOM LEFT OUTER BANKS, NORTH CAROLINA, USA, 2017 © DAVID ALAN HARVEY/MAGNUM PHOTOS
TOP LEFT NORWAY, 2017 © JONAS BENDIKSEN/MAGNUM PHOTOS
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BOTTOM RIGHT ELLIOTT AND CANELO, NEW YORK CITY, 2017 © ELLIOTT ERWITT/MAGNUM PHOTOS
TOP RIGHT NEW YORK CITY, USA, 2017 © CHIEN-CHI CHANG/MAGNUM PHOTOS
LETTER TO MY YOUNGER SELF » IAN MOSS
WHO’S THE MOSS? IAN MOSS TALKS MATESHIP, MUSIC AND COLD CHISEL.
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THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU 6–19 APR 2018
ALICE SPRINGS, YEAH. Born and
raised there. Went to school there. Every second year we’d go on holidays somewhere, the coast more often than not, usually Adelaide, ’cos that’s where my mother came from. Me as a 16-year-old? Naive, country innocence. You know, just brought up to do the right thing by anyone. That’s the way we’re all brought up – or should be. You might not have the street smarts of a city person, but that just comes from living out there in isolation. In a small town like that everyone knows everyone too well to even think about pulling the wool over someone’s eyes. Everyone knows everyone so you’re policing each other. Nobody can bullshit you or you them. Dad was a public servant, the Department of Works. Not the top dog but I remember during the Christmas holidays I’d go and get a job in the store there, and guys would come in and say “mate this place would be a complete mess if it wasn’t for your old man”. Hats off to him. My mother was always happily involved, secretarial things, community things, support the community as much as she could. And she was a grammar nazi. I started learning piano when I was five or six, but I wasn’t into it at the time. I wish now I had stuck at it. Somebody said to my parents “your kid’s got a bit of talent, push him into something”. So I picked up guitar at 11. When I was learning guitar I had one great teacher – a lady called Sylvia Davenport. There was no YouTube. We had only one radio station for many years. No TV. So I’d enthusiastically go to the newsagent to get Go-Set or the early rock magazines and read about the guitar players. And I’d read about guitar players in Sydney or Adelaide and wish that I could be with them one day. ‘Sadie the Cleaning Lady’ was the first song I learned. At 16 I moved to Adelaide. I hit the music hard at 15 and I flunked a year of school – my Leaving, I think it’s Year 11 these days – so I went down to Adelaide, where the music scene was thriving, to repeat. It was tough. I didn’t know anyone. That year at Marion High
School, where it took ages to make even one friend, that’s when I learned the value of friendship, of mates. I passed that year quite comfortably and decided to chuck in school, so I didn’t finish high school. I wasn’t too focused – I’m a dreamy sort of dude. In a small place like Alice you have a small bunch of mates, and it’s important. You needed them. That was something I took with me when I left Alice. I remember making a mental note to myself when I was 16 or 17 that no matter what happened, whether I got famous or not, that I would maintain contact with my childhood friends. It came to me kind of early that you never really make those kinds of friendships again. I’m still mates with them. I can slip back there any day, pick up where we left off with Roger, Tony, Paul, Wayne, to name a handful. I think it’s a great thing. If you ever go through hard times or moments of insecurity there’s someone to lean on. If I’m in a real bad way I could just jump on a plane or jump in a car and drive back to that friendship base. I was slowly meeting other
There I was with a couple of guys I’d never met, trying to figure out a jam – those days it was all Yes, Jethro Tull and one song taking up a whole album side – and down the back of the hall there was this guy with his girlfriend just watching, and after a while I felt compelled to wander down and say hello, and it was Don Walker. He wasn’t there to jam, for some reason for this one particular jam out of hundreds of others he felt compelled to come along and just watch. Nothing happened for a couple of years, then we were all back in the same hall – me, Don, the original bass player Les Kaczmarek. Then we met Swanee and I thought Wow, this guy’s as good as Robert Plant… Is he going to be our singer? Don said no, he’s in another band, but apparently he’s got a younger brother [Jimmy Barnes] who’s pretty good. It felt like the end, absolutely, when Cold Chisel finished. [Moss was 28.] We knew we had done well and made some good records. But things move quickly in this industry and in a couple of years it can be “Cold who?” I clearly
grow up, be responsible, get a real job. Thankfully none of that happened. Regret? The United States. I always regretted that we didn’t give the US a red-hot go… Well, you’re wise with 20/20 hindsight. I just…we were killing it. The small number of gigs we did there – we just fucking nailed them. People were going “fuck, where the hell have you guys come from?” But some of the guys had just met future loved ones, there was some squabbling in the band, and some were like “no women on the road”, so it created tensions. But I wish I had the foresight to sit everyone down after we finished that US tour and say “Guys, we’ve got to stay here. We do. Let’s not go home.” But I didn’t. We didn’t. And the rest is history. Always have a go. Work hard. If you get knocked down, get up. If you get knocked down again, get up again. Keep havin’ a go. Keep your head turned into the wind. Well, I think we’ve covered everything. by Michael Epis, Contributing Editor » Ian Moss is out now. He tours Australia 22 June–21 July, then regionally from 3 August.
PHOTO BY DANIEL BOUD
“IT FELT LIKE THE END, ABSO LUTELY, WHEN COLD CHIS EL FI NISHE D.” musicians in Adelaide. It was all about meeting people, jamming, sorting each other out, then kind of getting somewhere, then someone would leave. I remember one guy, Rob, a good singer, one day just turned up and said “Look, I’m taking up hairdressing.” So you’re back to square one. Then I met [Cold Chisel songwriter] Don Walker. The twists and turns of fate eh. I still marvel to this day and wonder why. It’s very important that I met Don Walker when I did. I’ve told the story before: it was very early days in Adelaide… quite often there’d be a town hall or somewhere on the weekend, with guys jamming, that didn’t know each other, who met through this one place called Adelaide Musical Hire Services, where everyone went to look for a player or leave their details to contact them.
remember those last days, the pain of splitting up, and meeting with Phil Small the bass player and it was “What do ya reckon you’re gonna do?” “I dunno.” “And what are you gonna do?” “Dunno.” “Got a skill, a degree?” “Nuh, nothin’.” I thought that was it. There was always the thought that one day you’d have to
IN FULL FLIGHT WITH COLD CHISEL AT SYDNEY’S ENTERTAINMENT CENTRE, 1983 PHOTO BY GREG NOAKES
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YEAR OF THE DOG XXX XXX XXX XXX
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WES ANDERSON’S L ATEST FILM IS NOT ONLY STAR-STUDDED AND AESTHETICALLY PLEASING, IT ALSO HAS AN IMPORTANT MESSAGE. BILL MURRAY, JEFF GOLDBLUM AND BRYAN CRANSTON EL ABORATE. JUST HOURS BEFORE the world
premiere of his ninth feature film, Isle of Dogs, Wes Anderson is looking politely excited. Dressed in one of his signature herringbone tweed suits, he is seated in the middle of a curated table of Hollywood royalty that would set any director drooling. Greta Gerwig is sandwiched between Bill Murray and Bryan Cranston; Anderson’s co-screenwriters Jason Schwartzman and Roman Coppola occupy one end of the table; Liev Schreiber rubs shoulders with Jeff Goldblum at the other; and Tilda Swinton cheers from the front row. (The list of cast members who are not present at the Berlin premiere is equally impressive, including Edward Norton, Scarlett Johansson, Yoko Ono and Frances McDormand.) So just how does the American filmmaker do it?
For his verse, Murray voices Boss, a liver-spotted mutt and former mascot to a Little League baseball team. Still wearing his Megasaki Dragons sweater, Boss is one of five alpha dogs who form a pack in order to survive in Anderson’s latest imaginary treasure. Set 20 years in the future, Isle of Dogs takes place on the titular caninefilled island, after an outbreak of dog flu provokes the corrupt, cat-loving Mayor Kobayashi to expel every dog from the fantasy Japanese city of Megasaki to Trash Island, an off-shore dumping ground that is as dank and depressing as its name suggests. As with his first animated feature, Fantastic Mr Fox (2009), Anderson again turns to puppets and animals in Isle of Dogs to build a world that simply wouldn’t be possible in a liveaction film. The intricate and decidedly
“WHATEVER PROCESS [ANDERSON] GOES BY...IT’S AWFUL GOOD. YOU WANT TO BE IN A MOVIE LIKE THIS, WHICH YOU’RE PROUD OF AND IS A RARE KIND OF MASTERPIECE.” – JEFF GOLDBLUM “Most of the actors here are people I’ve either worked with before or loved for years,” he tells the Berlinale press conference. “I feel like this group of people is the first list we made…of who we’d like to have in the movie. And one thing about an animated movie is that you can’t really say ‘not available’, you know?” he jokes. “We can do it any time. We can do it at your house, at any hour of the day. There’s just no excuse.” For the actors, too, the joy of working alongside such talent and being part of the Wes Anderson family is palpable. As Bill Murray quips, “I’m all cranked up on chocolate and a little bit of champagne right now, so I’m going to say that being a voice with this group is a little bit like being in the ‘We Are the World’ video. I think these are some of the great voices of cinema, and I’m very happy to be singing, even if I just get one verse.”
artisanal stop-motion process required the construction of 1000 puppets and micro-sets, and a crew of more than 670 (including 70 in the puppet department and 38 in the animation department) who shot every frame. In the end, the film’s 101 minutes are built from a mind-boggling 130,000 stills. Two years in the making, the gargantuan undertaking began with recording the voices. (An intertitle at the opening of the film informs us that all dog barks have been translated into English.) Unusually for an animation, four members of the down-and-out dog gang – Bob Balaban (King), Bryan Cranston (Chief), Bill Murray (Boss) and Edward Norton (Rex) – were able to record their voices together, an experience they recount when we get the chance to speak the day after the film’s premiere. Says Murray, “We’ve all recorded things either for the theatre or for a record or
something like that before, and you can be in your own booth and it feels a little lonely. But when you have the actual rhythm and tempo of other actors, it becomes alive, you’ve got someone else to work with, to bounce off.” Cranston, who plays Chief, a lonely stray mutt with a combative temper, adds, “The four of us were at our podiums delivering our speeches, and it was fun to get a sense of what Bill was doing, and what everyone was doing.” Anderson was in the room, although he didn’t give much direction, choosing to trust the instincts of his actors and let them lead: “We could see that Wes had his eyes closed a lot. He was imagining how he would arrange the puppets to shoot, and then he would tweak a little bit, going, ‘Ooh, I don’t know if that’s the right line,’ and then make an adjustment.” The fifth member of the dog gang, Jeff Goldblum, was in Los Angeles and unable to join that day, so he recorded his part later in a soundstage, speaking to Anderson over the phone. Goldblum plays Duke – a gossipy pooch, described in the press notes as a “bohemian mountain-dog”. Dapper despite his missing teeth, his is a role that, though peripheral, feels dreamed up especially for Goldblum. “Whatever process [Anderson] goes by, however he arrives at that, it’s awful good. You want to be in a movie like this, which you’re proud of and is a rare kind of masterpiece,” Goldblum gushes. Isle of Dogs is their third project together: “Very few directors [are able] to understand you and to appreciate you and to use you in a different, interesting way. The characters that he imagined me for and the way that he married us, me and the character, is very well done.” When I ask Cranston if he could see why Anderson cast him for the particular role of Chief, he says, “I seem to play a lot of damaged characters, and I like to because it gives me an THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU 6–19 APR 2018
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opportunity to work through my own issues and use it as a therapeutic session,” alluding to his iconic roles as Walter White from the acclaimed television series Breaking Bad and the father, Hal, in Malcolm in the Middle. To the same question, Murray nods: “Last night, I felt, okay, I can see why that one’s good for me. I’m a sports dog, and I’m kind of a sports guy. Wes thinks that I’m, you know, an athlete.” While Murray resists the idea of being Anderson’s personal mascot, his droll depiction as the sporty dog is perhaps part of a shorthand that has evolved from appearing in every one of Anderson’s movies following his cult debut Bottle Rocket (1996) – from Rushmore (1998) through to The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014). So, what’s it like to have this ongoing relationship, to work with the revered auteur over so many films? “He tries to change the length of your clothes and everything else,” says Murray. “He used to insist that the cuffs of my pants be four-anda-half to five inches too short. I don’t do
It’s not only the return of familiar faces that makes Isle of Dogs feel like an assuredly Wes Anderson film. The film plumbs his eternal themes: the yearning for family and brotherhood that roused movies like The Royal Tenenbaums (2001), The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (2004) and The Darjeeling Limited (2007); it roots for the underdog (here, literally); and its narrative is propelled by an action-packed quest. In Isle of Dogs, this is led by a 12-year-old ward of the mayoral household named Atari Kobayashi (voiced by
TOP ATARI WITH HIS PACK ABOVE REX USED TO BE AN “INDOOR DOG” BELOW BOSS IS THE SPORTY ONE
FILM STILLS FROM 20TH CENTURY FOX
“THERE’S SOMETHING ABOUT THE FILM’S TIMELESS STORY, THOUGH, THAT FEELS PARADOXICALLY PRESCIENT... AS THE POLITICS OF THE WORLD BEGAN TO SHIFT, THE FILM’S MOOD AND ALLEGORICAL MESSAGE FEEL LIKE A TIMELY BALM.” that anymore,” gesturing to his roseprinted denim flares. “The problem is once he became a successful director, all the new people working around him were breathing like this [makes terrified/reverential face] just to be in his presence. There’s a little bit of a kingdom around him. But to his credit, he does not endorse that. He does not promote people the more unctuous they are. Maybe he doesn’t even see it?”
newcomer Koyu Rankin), who pilots a plane to Trash Island in search of his dog, Spots (Liev Schreiber). There’s something about the film’s timeless story, though, that feels paradoxically prescient. Production started before Trump’s election, but as the politics of the world began to shift, the film’s mood and allegorical message feel like a timely balm. The homeless pooches and people of Megasaki fight for truth and rise up against a tyrant, and what begins as distracting haute design – an aesthete obsessing over every detail, every texture – starts to feel like a manifesto for patient and attentive care. As Goldblum explains, “His movies are authentic, personal offerings, and call for gentility and kindness, compassion, inclusiveness, anti-bigotry, peacefulness, co-existence among people and species. So this movie,
although addressing evergreen ideas, turns out to be particularly ripped from the headlines now.” He continues, “I hope that a story like this, so beautifully told and so entertainingly told, could move the ball forward in our real world. Who knows, but I’m romantic about that Dr Suess story, you know, Horton Hears a Who! The whole world is in jeopardy and everyone takes a part in the fight to save it except one person. It’s only when that last person joins the union of the good fight that the voice is heard, that the critical mass is reached. So if we raise our voices, each of us in our own way – we can’t do it as beautifully as Wes does it – but if we do, maybe we can enhance the story.” by Annabel Brady-Brown (@annnabelbb) » Isle of Dogs is in cinemas 12 April. THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU 6–19 APR 2018
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KIMBRA’S
AFTER A HEADY BEGINNING, THE THIRD ALBUM FROM KIMBRA SHOWS HOW THE MUSICIAN HAS GROWN.
BEFORE ‘SOMEBODY THAT I USED TO KNOW’, before she won a Grammy,
before career moves to Melbourne and then New York, a local New Zealand television station captured Kimbra on the record, divulging her biggest hopes and dreams in a three-minute segment about how music is made. “Hi, I’m Kimbra,” the precocious then11-year-old said, waving at the camera. “And one day, I’d love to be a pop star.” Just shy of 10 years later, Kimbra Lee Johnson would get exactly what she’d asked for: she’d land the cameo of a lifetime with Gotye, use its success to propel her debut album to the top of the charts and return three years later with The Golden Echo, an album that made her uncompromising vision and dedication to authentic artistry plainly clear. It’s the sort of rise most artists only dream of, a one-in-a-million success story. And it’s not over yet. This month Kimbra is back with Primal Heart, the album she describes as her “best yet”, the product of four years of growing, experimenting and absorbing new ideas. If first impressions are anything to go by, the New Zealand export might have had a change in outlook since we last heard from her. Her two lead singles (‘Everybody Knows’ and the brilliant ‘Top of the World’) focus on themes of disillusionment and power rather than punch-drunk love and 90s music. The stripped-back videos feature Kimbra stony-faced and strong, rather than grinning and surrounded by a frame full of confetti, primary colours and synchronised back-up dancers. Does that mean Kimbra has ditched the unapologetic positivity of her previous two albums? “I don’t think as a whole the record feels dark, but it feels tougher and 32
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perhaps more realised,” she tells me down the phone from New York, which she now calls home. “I keep coming back to the words ‘courage’ and ‘boldness’ on this record. This record feels like it’s quite confrontational, in terms of confronting things within myself, within relationships in my life. And being a New Zealander in America and all the things that evokes, which is a lot.” She pauses. “Maybe it’s something about living in America at a time when Donald Trump is president, but it’s also to do with having more courage to have an opinion on things and use my platform as an artist to speak.” And speak she does. In the wake of the Harvey Weinstein reckoning, Kimbra used a post on her blog to call out the music industry sexism
woman is expressive it must mean she’s interested.” But Kimbra is keen to point out that Primal Heart isn’t a pessimistic affair. “The whole thing is about exploring duality. A lot of the darker songs find a home among the more triumphant ones and touch on themes of idealism and transcendence and I think that’s always going to be part of what I do. I’ll always be playful, but there’s a strength that comes through.” The songs draw on big themes – the “primordial and raw matter of what makes us up” and the way “humans need love in our lives to survive”. And as for her pop star aspirations? “I’ve made some pretty conscious choices to be more anonymous,” she reveals. “After
"I KEEP COMING BACK TO THE WORDS 'COURAGE' AND 'BOLDNESS' ON THIS RECORD." she has experienced over her career – unwanted advances from professionals she was working with, men in studios who assumed she didn’t know how to produce (she does). “I’m glad these things are being talked about because, of course, I’ve been in those situations as well – where you watch someone completely misinterpret who you are and start to blatantly disrespect your craft by suggesting that your greatest value is your body,” she sighs. “You go into the studio and bare your heart and soul while you’re singing – for me, that’s a big part of who I am. And [you’re met with] the idea that this could be some kind of open invitation. It’s something that seems to slip under the radar time and time again – the sense of entitlement in these industries. If a
the Grammys, I could’ve moved to Hollywood and done all the parties, but I just went to a farm outside of LA and hung out with a bunch of animals and made a record with Thundercat and a bunch of crazy musicians. And then I moved to New York, away from the industry. I feel like I’m making decisions that are more about protecting my sense of self and my search for grounding. “Whenever things get high like that, I want to find ways of grounding myself back to being a nobody,” she adds. “Because at the end of the day, I think I am a nobody.” It’s not true, but it’s nice of her to say. by Katie Cunningham (@katiecunning) » Primal Heart is out now.
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VAIK NEWS
S.A. JONES HAS CREATED A FICTIONAL WORLD IN WHICH MEN (AND ONLY MEN) HAVE TO DEAL WITH REALITIES THEY NEVER EVEN IMAGINED. “THE FORTRESS IS not a political manifesto,” S.A. Jones says, leaning forward in her chair. “If I were to write a political manifesto it would look very different.” To meet Jones is to be impressed and a little overwhelmed. It’s rare to meet a writer with such presence and intensity, the same forces that animate her work. “I had a dream run with it, initially,” Jones recalls. “I would just sit down and write, write, write. And after two weeks of doing that I had a quarter of the book. Obviously it had been birthing inside of me for a long time.” Jones hooked a new agent with the
own laws and an iron-clad treaty with the city: women who are victimised by men are able to claim the right of judgement by the Vaik. When Adalia, Jonathan’s wife, discovers both his betrayals and the culture of sexual predation at his firm, she delivers him an ultimatum: go live in the Fortress and submit to the rule of women for a year, or else. After this, she promises, their relationship might have a chance. In the Fortress, Jonathan is first amused and then dismayed by the laws: he cannot ask questions or act violently, he cannot refuse sex, and he must do anything a woman tells him to do. But it
PHOTO BY STEPHANIE FARGHER
“PARTS OF THE BOOK ARE PORNOGRAPHIC… I WANTED PEOPLE TO BE BODILY INVESTED IN THIS BOOK.” manuscript almost immediately, but finding a publisher took a lot longer. “The response from publishers might best be described as…puzzlement. Somebody actually said to me: ‘Look this may well be a work of genius and I wish I were brave enough.’ ‘Brave enough’ – those were the words.” The novel’s protagonist, Jonathan, is a high-flying executive who cheats on his wife with the casual ease of someone who doesn’t need to deal with the repercussions of his actions. Jonathan’s lack of regard for others – an attribute shared by his colleagues – becomes apparent when an unconscious woman is raped at their firm and nothing is done to help her or to find the perpetrator. Jonathan’s city could be mistaken for any Western capital, if not for one thing: a great fortress, home to a matriarchal society called the Vaik, lies within the boundaries of the city. The Fortress is an indigenous sovereign territory with its
soon becomes apparent that, for him, these laws are only the beginning of what will be a gruelling mental, emotional and spiritual experience. “I didn’t mean to write a book about what misogyny looks like,” Jones explains. “We have those. I was interested in: what does it take for someone to change? I didn’t explicitly set out to write a speculative fiction book. I actually had to construct this world to explore the question of change. I needed something more extreme. It is about the process of stripping, or scourging, to get back to a place of well, what does it actually mean, to change, to confront yourself ?” One thing that becomes apparent about Jones in person, and which is also on display in her previous novel, Isabelle of the Moon and Stars, is that she does not shy away from asking tough
questions, nor from writing about the more disturbing elements of human nature. Much of The Fortress’ spark stems from Jones’ exploration of the nature of eroticism, consent and penance. Her scenes often deliberately force a confrontation between the reader and their own expectations. Jonathan cannot refuse sex, remember. In one particular scene Jonathan is commanded to have sex with his male mentor in front of a Vaik. It forces him to consider issues of consent he had never bothered to understand. “Parts of the book are pornographic. And I say that advisedly. It is written to elicit sexual arousal. I wanted people to be bodily invested in this book. It wouldn’t have worked to write something entirely cerebral. I needed that discomfiture, that feeling of hmm, I’m being aroused by something I’m not really comfortable with,” Jones says. Ultimately, Jones is unfazed by how people will respond to her novel. “You hope that people will engage with your work in good faith. You could take a number of things from The Fortress in isolation and go on a rant about them. But I would just hope that people approach it as a whole.” And indeed, throughout the story, the reader is brought into contact with some very confronting scenes. But Jones’ aim is not only to confront readers, but to create a world where they can experience one type of privileged expectation and see this utterly dissolved. Jones is one of the rare writers who can take you on such a journey. To read The Fortress is to go through your own trial by fire, and it’s fascinating to come out the other side and examine what you’ve learned. by Raphaelle Race » The Fortress is out now. THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU 6–19 APR 2018
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SELECT
Covering the standouts in film, music, books and home entertainment
WE CAN WORK IT OUT
EMPLOYABLE ME EMPLOYABLE ME OPENS on a typical
interview set-up. There’s a chair, a desk, a glass of water. And when our first candidate Rohan sits down, he’s asked the typical question: why does he want a job? His answer is what most people are looking for: to be independent, to contribute to society. But for Rohan, there’s an extra challenge. Being on the autism spectrum, there are fewer opportunities available to him. Produced by Northern Pictures (Changing Minds: The Inside Story), Employable Me follows nine people affected by conditions including autism, OCD and Tourette syndrome as they search for meaningful work. Some have never had a job before, and have applied for hundreds without success. In episode one, we follow Rohan, Tim and Kayla. Tim is 28, on the
spectrum and holds several IT qualifications. He’s never had a job and is becoming increasingly isolated living at home. Kayla, 20, has the rarest form of Tourette syndrome. Swearing outbursts like hers are presented by only 10 per cent of people with the neurological disorder. Each person meets experts for neuro-psych testing to see what kind of jobs might suit them. For Kayla, a love of music sets her on her path. In episode two, Jonathan hopes his “weapons-grade autism” will help him stand out in the competitive accounting industry. But with new opportunities comes nervousness, excitement, stress and, of course, rejection. Kayla experiences a brand-new jerking tic the morning of her trial at a music venue – it could last for minutes or hours. Tim’s extreme social anxiety makes an hour-long commute an impossible task. There’s a warmth and insight to how
these portraits are captured. Specialist advice was sought to ensure participants were comfortable with sharing their stories on their own terms, at every step. As we get to know each individual, it feels less like we’re peering through a window, and more like we’re in the room. Each person is dryly funny, yet unflinching in speaking the truth about how they view the world and how the wider world views them. In the three-part series, we encounter a number of workplaces that are willing to help unique candidates. But it’s clear that outside the show’s universe there is a lack of understanding, awareness and flexibility for would-be employees with different needs and abilities. The show’s message is clear: we all deserve to belong and to have a role in society. And we should never take that for granted. by Anna Horan (@AnnaHoran) » Employable Me is on ABC and ABC iview now. THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU 6–19 APR 2018
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FILM THE PARTY
AKI KAURISMÄKI: UNCONCERNED ABOUT THE ICELANDIFICATION OF EUROPE.
ANNABEL BRADY-BROWN > Film Editor WITH THE RELEASE of Aki Kaurismäki’s latest gift to cinema, The Other Side of Hope, audiences are being given another chance to fall for Finland’s most famed cinematic auteur. Kaurismäki’s blend of droll humour, tragi-comic humanism, social criticism and eye-candy mise-en-scène has proved irresistible for decades, but there’s a story I like from last year, when this film premiered at the Berlinale. A reporter asked the filmmaker for his thoughts on the supposed Islamification of Europe; in response, the then 59-year-old pretended to have misheard the question and said that, despite the recent strong performances of their country’s football team, he didn’t believe that Icelandification posed a threat. Yes, it’s a dopey joke, but also a gentle rebuke: we can do better than this. While the Kaurismäki back catalogue is full of treasures worth seeking out, his previous film, Le Havre (2011), is a particular joy. It follows a shoe-shiner who takes in Idrissa, an 11-year-old refugee trying to make it to London. The first of a supposed trilogy, it joins other recent films that address the ongoing crisis – Gianfranco Rosi’s Fire at Sea (2016), Ai Weiwei’s Human Flow (2017), Arash Kamili Sarvestani and Behrouz Boochani’s astonishing documentary Chauka, Please Tell Us the Time (2017), arguably even Michael Haneke’s Happy End (2017). The trilogy continues with The Other Side of Hope. As Kaurismäki told The Guardian, “That’s why I rushed this one out. I wanted everyone to see that refugees are human too. Cinema can influence a tiny bit. One penny makes a big river.”
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Friends assemble at the London home of Janet (Kristin Scott Thomas) to celebrate her promotion to Shadow Health Minister. While she fusses over the canapés, her husband, Bill (Timothy Spall), drinks steadily in the other room, in a world of his own. The key pieces are in place from the start in The Party, Sally Potter’s funny, perceptive film – as guests arrive, a series of explosive personal revelations shuffles them around. A snappy 71 minutes, Potter’s film is a controlled chamber piece. Ideologies and desires clash, and the seven characters – including blunt realist April (Patricia Clarkson) and her life coach boyfriend Gottfried (Bruno Ganz), who between them generate much of the film’s caustic humour – have nowhere to hide. Both the vol-au-vents and Janet’s ideals get scorched, leaving her to wonder, “Have I wasted my life on a mirage?” Filmed during the Brexit referendum, The Party suggests a disillusion with UK politics, while simultaneously jibing at all systems of dogma. JOANNA DI MATTIA
THE OTHER SIDE OF HOPE
Parable-like in its simplicity, Aki Kaurismäki’s The Other Side of Hope tells the story of Syrian asylum seeker Khaled (the captivating Sherwan Haji), who arrives in Helsinki a marked outsider, and who struggles the entire film to attain the status of a legitimate citizen. With the Finn’s signature warm humanism, The Other Side of Hope throws up a mirror to the West and its callousness toward the asylum seeker. Consistent with Kaurismäki’s singular economy of style, the film portrays Khaled’s plight with alarming simplicity – restrained performances, deadpan delivery, fixed camera – that shifts our gaze to subtle but powerful gestures, like a pained expression or the raw emotion of a pop song. While the Finnish government slams the door in Khaled’s face, it falls on individuals – in this case Waldemar Wikström (Sakari Kuosmanen), an elderly Finnish man – to shelter and protect the discarded. Kaurismäki’s cinema is nothing short of a pill of clarity for a diseased society. FIONA VILLELLA
LOVE, SIMON
Seventeen-year-old Simon Spier (Nick Robinson) has loving parents, a tight-knit group of friends and a settled school life. He also has a secret: he’s gay. So when he finds out about another closeted teen at his school via an online message board, he gets in touch to anonymously tell him he’s not alone. Their relationship blossoms, but Simon has no idea who he’s actually talking to – and when another student finds his emails and blackmails Simon into setting him up with one of his female friends, things get messy fast. If you’re after big drama, move on. This is a sweetly low-key story (based on a novel by Becky Albertalli) where (almost) everyone is well meaning, and Simon’s coming out is only a big deal because he’s made it so. The occasional sharp joke gives this film what little edge it has; the romance is mostly Simon wondering if random cute guys are his mystery pen pal, and everyone is so decent and understanding the tension is minimal. It’s charmingly pleasant, comfort-food cinema. ANTHONY MORRIS
CINEMA RELEASE
STREAMING
SMALL SCREENS GOOD NIGHT STORIES FOR REBEL GIRLS
JOANNA & JENNIFER: ABSOLUTELY CHAMPERS
Pass the Bolly, sweetie! You can almost see the creative cogs grinding as the heady concept of this boozy ABC documentary took shape. “Let’s get two of Britain’s most loved but alcoholic TV characters – Absolutely Fabulous’ Patsy and Edina – to investigate the drink their names have become synonymous with: champagne. What could go wrong?” The actors who brought the drunken socialites to life, Joanna Lumley and Jennifer Saunders, are certainly effervescent company. Twenty-five years working together on Ab Fab ensures this booze cruise to France’s most famous wine region is entertaining. Saying that, the witty repartee between the pair, previously fuelled by a wickedly clever script, now plays it safe. Luckily, whether crushing grapes with their feet or quaffing copious glasses of bubbles, the pair’s enthusiasm drives this tipple travelogue as they tour picturesque wineries, including Bollinger, and discover how their favourite bubbly beverage is produced. It’s almost fabulous. DAVE BROWN
RISE Two cups of Footloose and one pound of Friday Night Lights, this backstage musical trips over itself putting the “drama” in drama club. Small-town tensions rise when English teacher Lou Mazzuchelli (Josh Radnor, How I Met Your Mother) takes the reins of Stanton High’s theatre program. Subbing out Grease for racy Spring Awakening, he makes enemies stage-left, right and centre. Chock full of tropes – “sport versus art”, “repressed Catholic family”, “teacher neglects own kids” – Rise is slow to get started. Now on Stan, its earnest portrayal of teen angst is endearing. The young cast includes Auli’i Cravalho (voice of Disney’s Moana), Rarmian Newton (Dance Academy) and Shannon Purser (Stranger Things’ Barb), who all burst with potential. Taking its lead from Michael Sokolove’s non-fiction book Drama High, the series so far lacks the novelty of the source material, and the glee of its contemporaries. Though it compensates with volume, there’s time yet for it to soar. AIMEE KNIGHT
Drawing on the book of the same name, this podcast captures Elena Favilli and Francesca Cavallo’s excellent tales of inspiring women. Like the book, it’s very much aimed at a younger audience – great for early primary school children – but grown-ups will definitely get something out of these tales, too. The first episode focuses on NASA computer scientist Margaret Hamilton, narrated by actor Poorna Jagannathan. The second, on Olympic swimmer and Syrian refugee Yusra Mardini (narrated by former long-distance swimmer Diana Nyad), whose aquatic heroics saved a boatload of asylum seekers and led to her joining the Refugee Olympic Athletes Team. Rebel Girls is another example of how podcasts are popularising tales that have been buried, marginalised, skewed or forgotten. It’s also a really lovely addition to the parental bedtime arsenal. While reading to your kids is always important, it may be nice, on occasion, to leave them listening to stories told by and about women who deserve to be heard. MELISSA CRANENBURGH
AIMEE KNIGHT > Small Screens Editor IN THE SUMMER of 2012, I went macaron mad. Didn’t we all? A Pinteresting fever swept the internet and my share house. I spent the season trying to produce those delectable – not to mention photogenic – crunchy-chew confections. But on each fresh tray, the meringue-based morsels emerged as brittle and hollow as my domestic goddess dreams. So when I encountered Nailed It! – Netflix’s first foray into the baking show format – my appetite required no whetting. Now, cooking shows aren’t usually my jam. The synthetic melodrama is too hard to swallow. But where the likes of MasterChef reward the utmost culinary excellence, Nailed It! celebrates us bright-eyed, sticky-fingered folks giving this whole “kitchen” thing a red-hot go. Each episode calls for three novice cooks to recreate internet-famous cakes, like the elaborate fairytale tower topped with an edible princess. Contestants get a little help from bemused guest judges (Sylvia Weinstock, adopt me), but proceedings usually devolve into a hilarious hot mess. Taking its name from a snarky meme format – where
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PAY TV
INTERNET MEME BECOMES GREAT TV. PHOTO BY NETFLIX
flour and fondant feats sit alongside spectacularly amateur facsimiles – Nailed It! could be a pinch too salty. But while schadenfreude helps the ratings, there’s more to enjoy here. As we fall deeper into vats of curated reality, where only the most Instagrammable moments rise, Nailed It! praises those who faltered on the road to online stardom but were happy just having a crack. For that, it’s truly binge-worthy.
PODCAST
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MUSIC MOOSEBUMPS DR OCTAGON
Two decades ago, American cult rapper Kool Keith debuted his alter ego Dr Octagon, a timetravelling surgeon from Jupiter who rhapsodised his way through a cartoonish spree of body horror and sex in the year 3000. Reuniting with producer Dan the Automator and turntable champion DJ Qbert, Keith has finally followed up 1996’s grotesque classic, Dr Octagonecologyst. Newcomers might baulk at all the pornographic horror-comedy, but there’s enough manic spontaneity and sneaky nuance to make it more than a nostalgic rehashing. Opener ‘Octagon Octagon’ re-establishes the character’s narcissistic excesses, while Automator’s signature wonky strings hark back to early breakthrough single ‘Blue Flowers’. These are low-stakes earworms fed on rapid-fire profanities, punch lines and pop culture, with some unlikely guests (Interpol frontman Paul Banks, Slayer guitarist Gary Holt). Moosebumps may be less corrosively weird than its predecessor, but it’s still hip-hop at its most playfully unhinged. DOUG WALLEN
SARAH SMITH > Music Editor “I DIDN’T SEE any of this in my periphery when
coming to Australia. To have you guys listen to that, and to acknowledge that there are still people who need to be heard, and then to say this is the album you want to award – it means so much to me.” These were Sampa the Great’s words upon winning the Australian Music Prize. The Zambian-born, Melbourne-based artist beat out eight other short-listed contestants in one of the most hotly contested AMPs yet. The process of deciding the winner, which I did alongside 18 other judges, is never easy. This year was an emotional one, the final decision coming down to just one vote. Tears were shed and passionate speeches were given, and this was all before the official announcement last month. When that time did come, the room of nominees erupted with joy, fellow nominee Jen Cloher jumping up to give Sampa a standing ovation. Sampa’s words were significant for so many reasons. Her record – or “project” as she prefers to describe it – is an extraordinary soundscape that melds hip-hop, soul and R’n’B and slowly reveals itself a little more on every listen. Throughout, Sampa wrestles with concepts of identity: both as African-Australian and as a woman. She shares an intimate glimpse of her inner world, taking a deeply personal dialogue and twisting it outwards to reflect back a broader rumination on contemporary Australia. It’s complex, beautiful and a piece of work we’ll be talking about for years to come.
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EXPECTATIONS HAYLEY KIYOKO
Most commercial pop stars who veer from the “boy-meets-girl” love trope only ever delicately hint at queer narratives. When US singer Hayley Kiyoko went viral in 2015 with ‘Girls Like Girls’, she wasn’t just making a statement about her own sexuality; she exposed how desperate the LGBTQI community were for mainstream representation. Kiyoko’s debut album Expectations is a bubbly eruption of pop and flirty lyrics about young love in LA, laid over sensationally warm production. It starts with sure-fire hit ‘Feelings’ and standout ‘What I Need’, which features exuberant R’n’B artist and label mate, Kehlani. Where it falters is when a poor executive decision is made, such as trying to pass off two unfinished songs as one whole composition – on both ‘Mercy/Gatekeeper’ and ‘Under the Blue/Take Me in’. Kiyoko’s sultry vocals are best utilised with strong production that centres her (‘He’ll Never Love You (HNLY)’ and ‘Let It Be’). Kiyoko’s LP may not meet fans’ expectations, but it does secure her a seat at pop’s proverbial table. KISH LAL
MODERN CONVENIENCE MOD CON
In an era of playlists posing as albums, it’s rare to hear an LP that picks up steam as it goes. Melbourne’s Mod Con are a rock-trio who make an impassioned racket: punk minus distortion or screeching, homage or slogans. Instead, singer Erica Dunn asks questions, gazing on the slippery mistruths of the modern world and finding nothing definitive. Whether demanding answers (“which one will you choose?”) or seeking solidarity (“do you know what I mean?”) ‘Wanna Dance?’ wears a question in its every line; Dunn hollers rhetorical interrogations over a wiry song built on stark volume shifts. Mod Con can belt it out when needed (‘Tell Me Twice’ wields skank like a sharpened weapon; the opening riff of ‘Neighbourhood’ bulldozes). But they’re better at the slow build, both on individual songs and across the whole, culminating with ‘Get in Front of Me Satan’, a cresting farewell that ends the record with a bang. ANTHONY CAREW VINYL
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BOOKS THUY ON > Books Editor I HAVE A soft spot for books about books, so Annie Spence’s Dear Fahrenheit 451 immediately piqued my interest. Especially with a subtitle that reads: “A Librarian’s Love Letters and Break-up Notes to her Books”. Spence’s personal and idiosyncratic missives to some of the (mostly) novels under her care are short but not always sweet. Though she is enamoured with Donna Tartt’s The Goldfinch, for instance, she has yet to care about Anna Karenina: “There will come a day, probably, when I get a hankering for a bleak 864page novel translated from Russian. But until that day, back to the shelves you go.” Other books to receive the personal letter treatment range from The Hobbit (“You are brave and clever and longer-than-you-seem book”) to Judy Blume’s Forever… (“To continue the tradition, I’m going to highlight your dirty parts in pink, and hide you in a place where a new teen girl can discover you and keep you like a secret”) to Fifty Shades of Grey (“I hope someone drops you in the bubble bath they are sitting in when they read you”). And what does she say about Ray Bradbury’s classic, whose title references the temperature at which books burn? “The modern-day ‘firefighters’ are armed not with kerosene, but snarky internet memes, reality TV and the ability to simultaneously see more and less of the world around them.”
THE SHEPHERD’S HUT TIM WINTON
SKIN IN THE GAME SONYA VOUMARD
Bruising in its exploration of loss, survival and masculinity, Tim Winton’s latest novel navigates external and interior landscapes. Leaving behind a calamitous accident and violent upbringing, Jaxie Clackton flees his small-town home and heads on a long journey across the huge expanse of the West Australian wheatbelt in search of hope and love. But his trek is stalled when he stumbles across a strange fellow exiled in the middle of nowhere. The fate of this young boy and this enigmatic older man will be bloodily intertwined as trust and suspicion flow equally between them. The Shepherd’s Hut shows Winton’s mastery over language and terrain: the harsh setting is rendered in sharp and muscular but poetic prose, and Jaxie’s voice crackles with Australian vernacular. There are certain, crucial, gaps in the story, which simply add to the tension. This mostly two-hander characterisation is effectively wrought; Winton is in control of his domain the whole time and readers will find themselves swept along this unpredictable and bumpy ride of a novel. THUY ON
Drawing on a storied career both here and abroad, Sonya Voumard’s purpose is to interrogate the point, and the personal effect, of journalism. Voumard documents well the pressures of an industry in the throes of dramatic changes from the 1980s onwards, while never forgetting its constants. Doyens like Laurie Oakes and Michelle Gratten hove into view in amusing anecdotes and the larger, sometimes libidinous, behaviour of the Canberra press gallery is recounted in a clear-eyed manner. Voumard is especially insightful regarding the way female journalists forged a career path despite the unreflective sexism abounding in the halls of power, and beyond. The revisiting of a disastrous interview with Helen Garner is particularly arresting, as it is an astute reflection on the sometimes fractious intersection of the personal and the political at the heart of Voumard’s writing. Taking her title seriously, Voumard guides the reader with shrewdness and grace. Although never less than personal, this is a journalist’s book, written with clarity, verve and fearlessness.
THE BOOK OF JOAN LIDIA YUKNAVITCH
Pitched between 1984 and A Handmaid’s Tale, Lidia Yuknavitch’s novel presents a scathing dystopian vision with distinct feminist and environmental edges. The Book of Joan reimagines Joan of Arc as an elemental child warrior who straddles flesh and earth, exiled on our ravaged planet while the wealthiest humans die out in suborbital purgatory. As survivors of a cataclysmic battle lose the ability to reproduce, they turn to elaborate, ornamental skin grafts to tell their stories. While it’s a promising premise, the book suffers from a heavyhanded operatic tone that’s further hindered by what reads like rejected action-movie dialogue. Amid long scenes of war and devastation, the prose is repetitious, and the characters prone to emotive swearing. There’s even a villain called Jean de Men, who’s about as subtle as his name. Yuknavitch nails the language of sheer physicality, but her attention is split in too many directions throughout this fragmented, over-the-top fable. DOUG WALLEN PRINT
E-BOOK
JAMES TIERNEY
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LORIN PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT
SMALL
IS BEAUTIFUL
BIG DAY? BIG week? Big year? Big life?
Is life so big with all of the things you haven’t done and the thoughts you haven’t finished, and the friends you feel bad about not having seen, and the secret hopes, and the still-forming ideas, and the errands, and the bills and the mundanities and the unanswered questions and the loose ends and the climate and the state of the world and the fact that you pronounced a word incorrectly once at a party and you remember it suddenly at midnight when a sound outside wakes you and now you’re worried about the sound and also about the fact that somewhere on earth there is a person who thinks you are not only an idiot but also an overconfident one? Life is big. It’s true. And maybe you’ll grow into it. In the meantime though… Take a seat. Let’s have ourselves some small. ENJOY THE SMALL things.
Enjoy cool evenings. Enjoy other people’s laughter. Think of your favourite laugh. Try not to smile. Enjoy the small moments in people’s lives. Like when strangers interact and find themselves helping each other do things. How to use a parking meter, for instance, or one of those parking apps on the phone. A stranger leaning over another stranger’s shoulder, pointing in a slightly theatrical way so as to avoid surprise. “I think it’s…this button here.” The way people compensate for other people by performing a version of themselves that helps the other person. “Ha! I know! These apps are so confusing!” The mutual thanks and fond farewells. Sometimes, these short, daily, almost-friendships are the most rewarding, because helping someone feel like a functional human in the universe isn’t that hard, and it makes everybody feel better. Especially people who are terrible with things like parking apps. Think of the voice of someone you love. Think of the thing they are most likely to say that makes you smile. Feel a bit happy that you’re the person they’d say that to. Maybe, if you can, tell them you’re happy to be that person. If you can’t, just hold it. It’s yours. Enjoy hot drinks. Find a nice leaf. Hold someone’s hand.
Enjoy the fact that someone you know has, in all likelihood, come across someone else you know in a completely random circumstance and none of you will ever be made aware of it. Your mate from work walked past your old school teacher and did the nod-and-smile once on an empty train platform. Your two friends who had never met and who will never meet once got the same bus together for three hours. A close friend you’ve known forever asked your dentist “are you using this chair?” in a cafe when they were one chair short for coffee and cake with the family. Your dentist said “go for it” and smiled those beautiful teeth from over the weekend newspaper. They felt that moment of mutual warmth strangers can feel for each other without it meaning anything much, and then they forgot about each other, and you were at home having a shower at the time and the universe just happens like this always, without you but also with you, which is a great thing because it means you are both insignificant (but a small character in a much larger play) and significant (had they been aware of their connection to you, their interaction would have been instantly more meaningful). Small moments, kind of big. Try a new thing on a menu. Be kind to someone you have no reason to be kind to. Listen to a piece of music that makes your heart swell like the surf and then remember that humans made that happen. They made it happen over centuries by experimenting and by writing dots on a page and pressing their fingers onto strings and thumping huge drums and blowing into tubes and using their own voices and writing whatever poetry it is that right now, this very moment, sends three to seven minutes of something that moves you right into the very middle of who you are. You, personally, whom nobody involved in the process has ever met. Just a little song. Such a big combination of things. Enjoy the small. The tiny looks, the stillness, the thoughts that go nowhere, and the cups of tea while staring into the middle distance. Life is big but it’s made up of small. This has been a Public Service Announcement.
» Lorin Clarke (@lorinimus) is a Melbourne-based writer and co-host of the Stupidly Small Podcast.
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PUZZLES
2017-18 - Puzzle 17
BY LINGO! ICEBERG English gained the word iceberg around 1773, as a halfway translation of the Dutch ijsberg. The author of an article in Gentleman’s & London Magazine used the word, noting that he borrowed the word from Dutch. English traded Dutch ijs for our very similar sounding ice, but kept the berg, which across various Germanic languages means mountain or hill. The English cognate does a very good job of hiding in the word barrow. English speakers had encountered icebergs before the 1770s however, and had used terms like sea-hill, and my favourite, island of ice. The earliest reference to iceberg lettuce is from 1893. Thankfully, the lettuce was named after the 1700s; sea hill lettuce just doesn’t have the same ring. by Lauren Gawne (lingthusiasm.com)
2017-18 - Puzzle 11 SOLUTIONS #558
ADDER’S COIL by Wylie Ideas wylieideas.com.au
HOW TO PLAY Place a number in each empty square to make a path through squares of the grid following the numbers 1 to 9 in order, repeated as many times as necessary. After 9, start again with 1. The path tracks through adjacent squares horizontally or vertically, but not diagonally, to form a continuous loop that does not cross itself, split or reach a dead-end at any point. Solution next edition!
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Thermostat 12 Stun 13 Racetracks 17 Used 18 Ulcer 19 Task 21 Strychnine 23 Idle 24 Patronymic 28 Gunk 29 Passover 30 Ringed DOWN 1 Socrates 2 Present-day 3 See-through 4 Able 5 Clam 6 Wins 7 Unmask 14 Cacti 15 Threescore 16 Astringent 20 Salinger 22 Tea bag 25 Rash 26 Nova 27 Mare
CONTRIBUTORS Film Editor Annabel Brady-Brown Small Screens Editor Aimee Knight Music Editor Sarah Smith Books Editor Thuy On Cartoonist Andrew Weldon
THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU 6–19 APR 2018
ENQUIRIES Advertising Jenny La Brooy on (03) 9663 4533 jlabrooy@bigissue.org.au Subscriptions (03) 9663 4533 subscribe@bigissue.org.au Editorial Tel (03) 9663 4522 editorial@bigissue.org.au The Big Issue, GPO Box 4911, Melbourne, VIC 3001 thebigissue.org.au © 2018 Big Issue In Australia Ltd
PUBLISHED BY Big Issue In Australia Ltd (ABN 61 071 598 439) 227 Collins St Melbourne VIC 3000 All rights reserved. Reproduction in whole or in part without written permission is prohibited.
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CARTOON BY ANDREW WELDON
EDITORIAL Editor Amy Hetherington Deputy Editor Katherine Smyrk Contributing Editor Michael Epis Contributing Editor Anastasia Safioleas Editorial Coordinator Lorraine Pink Art Direction & Design Gozer (gozer.com.au)
CROSSWORD ACROSS 8 Coarse 9 Belgians 10 Orbs 11
CROSSWORD » by Chris Black (@cjrblack) 1
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CRYPTIC CLUES
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ACROSS
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The answers for the cryptic and quick clues are the same.
1. Crooked Fed gets around law? (6) 5. Bewitch portal (8) 9. Armoured truck workers in front (8) 10. Trainee alien not in the web (6) 11. Pin-up hat brother ruined (5-5) 12. Candid love letter writer? (4) 13. Snag messy bootlaces, drop ring (8) 16. Deer runs around horse and one child’s pet? (6) 17. Capers madly for a very long way (6) 19. Prince Charles has some dud smoke bombs? (8) 21. Endless banter needed before poker game? (4) 22. Outline amendment to house title (10) 25. Relating to a source, American turns easygoing (6) 26. Move start to end: Chicken Dance radically improved (8) 27. Revolutionary ship points to first opposing figures on board? (5,3) 28. I tremble outside and surrender (6)
DOWN
2. Novice has no trouble with tenancy (5) 3. GE in dispute with BET (5) 4. Serious doctor starts arranging scientific trials in clinic (7) 5. Champion finish gets wild rose (7) 6. BT excited about win; journalist finds place to sleep (4,3) 7. Remake of Catdog’s disasters (4,2,3) 8. Focus on present slogan: “Pride came undone” (5,4) 14. Banish war criminal and re-educate? (9) 15. Doctor! Test a friend’s sense organs (5,4) 18. Throw the French into forts (7) 19. Most muted terrible duets about leading Lounge Lizards (7) 20. Spooner says: “Start gardening with skill?” (4-3) 23. Lennon music regularly expresses melancholy (5) 24. Issue in the meantime (5)
QUICK CLUES ACROSS
1. Imperfect (6) 5. Beguile (8) 9. Frontline (8) 10. Apprentice (6) 11. Dreamboat (5-5) 12. Airy (4) 13. Roadblock (8) 16. Child’s word for a pet (6) 17. 3.26 light-years (6) 19. Some aristocrats have these (8) 21. A chip, maybe (4) 22. Outline (10) 25. Informal (6) 26. Improved (8) 27. Pieces and board (5,3) 28. Surrender (6)
DOWN
2. Rental agreement (5) 3. Stake (5) 4. Severe (7) 5. Back (7) 6. One of two places to sleep (4,3) 7. Floods, perhaps (4,2,3) 8. Encouragement to act now! (5,4) 14. Re-educate (9) 15. Nerves for assessing flavour (5,4) 18. Fortified buildings (7) 19. Most boring (7) 20. Ability (4-3) 23. Boredom (5) 24. Motif (5)
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CLICK WORDS BY MICHAEL EPIS » PHOTOGRAPH BY GETTY
Lee Marvin, Johnny Cash, 1968 LEE MARVIN WAS named after Robert E Lee, Confederate General in the US Civil War, who was his cousin, four times removed (which means the general was the cousin of one of Marvin’s great-greatgrandparents, four generations back). So Marvin was trouble from the get-go, expelled from multiple schools. World War II came and he was a marine, a sniper and/or a sniper scout, who supposedly did kill, but failed to souvenir the teeth of a Japanese victim before someone else did. His platoon was ambushed – Marvin was one of just three survivors. He got shot – in the butt – and spent a year in hospital recovering from a severed sciatic nerve. More bad behaviour saw him busted down from corporal to private. Back in civilian life, he became an
actor by accident, filling a vacancy in a theatre where he was the plumber. In the 50s he played villains; in the 60s, heroes; and both in his Oscar-winning dual role in Cat Ballou. With a voice deep enough to challenge Johnny Cash, he too had a hit record, ‘Wand’rin Star’. The two met in the late 60s, and when a reporter interviewed Marvin at home in 1970, a Cash record was playing. “Do you realise,” Marvin said, “that he gets three million a year for singing that shit? ‘I walk the line, I keep my eyes wide open all the time.’ I met him in Nashville. He said, ‘You haven’t heard my other stuff?’ ‘No,’ I said, ‘I haven’t.’ He sent us his complete 27 fucking albums. Jesus, Johnny, I like your stuff, but for Christ’s sake...” Marvin spent most of the interview
telling his partner, Michelle Triola, to get him a beer. She tells him to finish his coffee. On June Carter Cash’s last LP she sings a song she wrote for Marvin, who tried to hit on her, introducing it thus: “And so we met Lee Marvin. He liked to fight the Second World War. He fought it all the time. He fought it in person, killing every person that was coming up the highway.” A frequent visitor to Australia to fish for marlin, Marvin was offered the role of Quint in Jaws, but turned it down. “What would I tell my fishing friends who’d see me come off a hero against a dummy shark?” he later quipped. Marvin, who opposed the Vietnam War, knowing war’s horror all too well, is buried in Arlington Military Cemetery, Washington.
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