A matter of life and death, or more important than that – discovering the beauty of ‘chicklit’

I’ve always been a big reader. I still remember growing up reading avidly at night after lights out, using a torch under the bed clothes. I was pleased to hear it’s a practice that still continues, despite the overwhelming takeover by the digital universe. In a similar vein I was once driving along a busy city street and noticed a young high school student walking over at the crossing. As she walked, she was doing something with her hands. I thought she was texting with her smartphone, but realised that as she walked, she was knitting. Some interests and skills never die.

A great pile of books to read
The recent string of hot days is something we have luckily managed to avoid for longer than we probably deserve. But three days in a row of 37 to 39 degrees (originally three days in a row of 39 was threatened) kept me locked inside with the blinds down and curtains drawn. It made me exceptionally happy that I have a great pile of books to read.

Someone once made the comment about soccer that it wasn’t a matter of life and death – it was far more important than that. Sometimes I think the same about reading – it’s an essential part of a sane world.

The Powerhouse Museum – like reading, visits to cultural institutions seem to be the domain of mainly women.

'travelling light' – the full and final set in my suite of social media blogs

Today I launch 'travelling light', a final, fifth blog to add to my suite of four blogs on Blogger. For 16 years I published almost 300 articles there, with some articles posted on earlier outlets for closer to 22 years. 'travelling light' is different to all of these – not serious articles about creativity and culture, not humorous snippets, not creative and travel writing and not articles about food and cooking. It is a personal view of the light – and sometimes heavier – matters that come up in daily life and make me sit up and take notice, whether travelling or staying put.

Travelling light completes the set. My main blog is indefinite article, which I describe as irreverent writing about contemporary Australian society, popular culture, the creative economy and the digital and online world – life in the trenches and on the beaches of the information age. balloon is collection of short humorous articles, thought balloons for our strange and unsettled times – brief quirky articles about the eccentricities of everyday life, almost always with a sense of short black humour. handwriting, homegrown graffiti from the digital world – writing, rhyming and digital animations, is creative writing, including a series of seven articles about travel. Lastly tableland is about food, produce and cooking, land to table – the daily routine of living in the high country, on the edge of the vast Pacific, just up from Sydney, just down from Mount Kosciuszko.

Settled into a National Trust former fishing cottage at Port Quin on the Cornwall Atlantic coast in 2019.

Rationalising outlets

I have been rationalising some of my social media outlets and starting to place material on Substack, which has a different purpose to Blogger. I publish to both outlets, sometimes posting on both, with some cross-referencing. My most recent travel article on the 'handwriting' blog, which is about France, is part of a series of articles also called 'travelling light', in keeping with the same theme as this blog.

Everything, everywhere with everyone – where creativity and culture belong

As long as we remember them, they are still with us. Increasingly people I have known for a long time seem to be dying - once we went to parties, now we go to funerals. Earlier this year I was notified that a friend and mentor, Wallace McKitrick, who I seemed to have known over my whole adult life, had died. When I heard there was to be a memorial in Adelaide, I booked my flight straight away. There are some moments in this life you just can't miss.

As I flew I reflected that I’ve travelled around much of Australia, never realising that beneath the landscape flashing past, I was crossing from one country to another, with languages changing like the colour and shape of the grasses or the trees. The parallel universe of Australia's own original languages is an exciting world in which, after many decades of sporadic contact, Wallace and I finally caught up again.

Labour Day march, Adelaide 1984.

Many forms, one cockatoo
Wallace had many different forms, while underneath remaining true to himself, but also proving he was able to remake himself. He was most recently Wallace McKitrick. At one time – a long time ago – he was Peter Hicks, and at one stage, he was also Joseph the Talking Cockatoo.

Where Australian culture comes from – many of the best bits come from migration

It’s easy to forget where the vibrant, sprawling, complex and diverse culture that represents and fuels modern Australia comes from. Starting with the incredibly rich mix of First Nations cultures and languages springing from every part of this country, topped up with migrants from all over the world, starting with England, Ireland, Wales, Scotland and China (and some Italians and probably others, witness the Eureka Stockade), and then further enriched by all the subsequent layers of migration. We are (almost) all immigrants here, only just starting to genuinely come to grips with this country.

That’s why I’ve been shocked by the marches and rallies around the country opposing immigration. Everyone involved says mass immigration, but it’s clear in practice they mean most immigration. Those taking part probably have genuine grievances, but they have picked the wrong target to blame and, in the process, have been steered into becoming in effect neo-Nazi fellow travellers. Why am I surprised, though? As I repeatedly say Australia is not one country, but two – both parts going in opposite directions, one into the past and one into the future.

Bomber aircrew during World War 2 with my uncle Jack (second from right). Another uncle, Jim, was a navigator on a Lancaster bomber. He was decorated twice with the Distinguished Flying Cross. He used to joke that the rate of attrition amongst the bomber aircrew was so dire that they gave medals to anyone who survived – but I'm sure they didn't give out medals just for turning up.

Never revisiting that horror and that evil – or refighting that war
I keep reflecting that five of my uncles fought the Nazis in World War II, on torpedo boats, Lancaster bombers and freezing convoys round the top of Norway – luckily they all survived, but many of their friends did not. I don't want us – or our children – to have to refight that war. 

SHORT NOTE: A life of design in a city of design

I have always been impressed that two eminent and talented Italian architects, Romaldo Giurgola and Enrico Taglietti, moved to Canberra to pursue their work and both ended up falling in love with the city and settling here. Giurgola is well known as the leading architect for the new Parliament House building, but the work of Taglietti also has an extremely broad-ranging presence across the city.

Chandelier designed by Taglietti in the Italian Ambassador’s residence hangs over the launch of the 2019 DESIGN Canberra festival by Chief Minister Andrew Barr.

Comprehensive exhibition
The work of Taglietti, is featured in a comprehensive exhibition at the Canberra Museum and Gallery until 22 Feb 2026. Taglietti: Life in Design was originally meant to coincide with DESIGN Canberra, but when the festival moved from a yearly event to every second year, they went out of sync. Despite this the exhibition remains highly relevant to the long-running and successful festival, which has strong links with Taglietti and his work.

A life of design in a city of design.

‘The soft power of design diplomacy’
The exhibition is outlined in the background material from the Gallery:

Be careful what you wish for – how the indirect impacts of culture came to overshadow its inherent value

Recent turmoil at the Australian National University has raised a serious issue about the way we view and discuss creativity and culture. For many decades there were profound attempts to explain how arts, culture and creativity in general had immensely broad impacts across society, including in the economy – attempts that I was part of. That was, and remains, extremely important, but, partly as a result of these attempts, the inherent long-term impacts of arts, culture and creativity have increasingly been ignored and only the broader flow on impacts, often the more immediately practical ones, have been emphasised. In a neo-liberal universe that knows the price of everything and the value of nothing, understanding and managing this complex balance is crucial.

Even though I am a long-running Adjunct with the University of Canberra and over the course of my career have worked closely with a number of universities, I don’t in any way claim to be deeply knowledgeable about higher education – I just recognise its value. For me arts, culture and creativity are my focus and higher education and arts training only figure in relation to this.

‘It was apparent that for too long there had been a narrow emphasis on ‘art’ at the expense of ‘culture’ and on ‘excellence’, as counterposed against participation and involvement. The whole community arts and community cultural development movement, from which I sprang, was predicated on breaking down this artificial dichotomy.’

These issues are rearing their head in the national capital at the only national university in Australia, but they resonate everywhere, as culture and education, learning, research and innovation become battlegrounds in a world that, in the words of Oscar Wilde, knows the price of everything and the value of nothing.

During my working life, as I moved through involvement in different parts of the cultural sector, it was apparent that for too long there had been a narrow emphasis on ‘art’ at the expense of ‘culture’ and on ‘excellence’, as counterposed against participation and involvement. The whole community arts and community cultural development movement, from which I sprang, was predicated on breaking down this artificial dichotomy.

On the one hand conservatives loved the elitism of art, on the other hand, as part of the culture wars, they used accusations of ‘elitism’ to beat the ‘elites’ – not their elites, the real elites which rule the world, but those they identified as bringing progressive politics to the fore.

The privatisation of cultural support

New moves by governments in Australia to lay the groundwork to help broaden support for creativity and culture are important and need to be considered carefully and seriously. However, we also need to be cautious about reinforcing a trend for Government to withdraw from long term direct strategic support, as the underlying pressure of neo-liberalism, deregulation and privatisation moves us further and further away from the historically essential direct role of the Australian public sector in economic, social and cultural development.

I see that the NSW Government is responding to the crisis of survival being faced by artists and arts and cultural organisations of all kinds from ‘the burden of rising costs, rapidly shifting audience trends and waning philanthropic support’ by focusing on the promise of tax reform. This is after a long period of shocks to the creative sector that have threatened its viability.

 

Navigating the shifting currents of the NSW, Australian and global environment. 

‘There is a strong focus on tax reform for the cultural sector across State governments with engagement from the Australian Government, linked to a broader national focus on tax reform generally.’

A report in the Sydney Morning Herald, which you probably won’t be able to read because of its paywall, noted ‘Australia’s struggling culture sector could be handed much-needed extra funding under plans to use a radical shakeup of the nation’s tax system to alleviate the burden of rising costs, rapidly shifting audience trends and waning philanthropic support.’ Options being considered include ‘exempting prize money from GST, giving wealthy benefactors added incentives to donate, taxing vacant commercial spaces and allowing arts workers to claim new expenses.’

Music for modern times – the past reminds us of the future

Times are grim. People around the world are losing their life savings, innocent Americans are being deported to concentrations camps in Latin America, neo-liberals are on the rampage, like out of control crime gangs or brown-shirted goons. Luckily there is always creativity and culture, art and community action.

As always art, creativity and culture, not to mention community offer some relief and ways to understand and help finding solutions to madness. The past is always with us and has a lot to say. It’s time to briefly lift up our heads from this craziness and listen to some music.

Postmodern Jukebox
Earlier this year I went to see Postmodern Jukebox play at Llewellyn Hall on a rainy night in Canberra. It was refreshing to see the good side of America still singing, even while the Trump bully boys were dismantling democracy – albeit a flawed version that makes you appreciative of your own somewhat less flawed version.

‘You hear the phrase “the audience went wild” – well, when the audience go wild at a Postmodern Jukebox show, they really go wild.’

I had been introduced to the phenomenon of Postmodern Jukebox on an excursion to visit my brother in Gippsland in Victoria. He of course knows of all things musical. Until the concert I had seen them only on YouTube.

 

Music makes everything better.

Trump tariff threat to Australia’s screen industry

In the new world order, as the American empire seems to be starting to unravel, there are likely to be severe repercussions for other countries and their international cultural presence. One of the unnoticed casualties of the tariff wars may be Australian content and our local screen industry. The Albanese Government has been promising a new model to ensure that streaming services commit funds to Australian content. The Americans, especially the new regime, are very hostile to any form of regulation or quotas and may apply pressure to stymie the Australian plan.

We live in dangerous times. People are likely to die from it, industries and livelihoods will be destroyed and power and wealth will become even more concentrated. Ultimately I don’t much care if America chooses to unravel its empire, that has dominated the world since the end of World War 2. Some wit described the times as ‘like watching the fall of the Roman Empire, but with wi-fi’.

The National Film and Sound Archive, custodian of Australia’s long and proud history of screen culture.

Like most ordinary people, I can do little to influence it and am content to sit and watch in horror as the leadership of a country proceeds to junk many of the things that made it ‘great’ - whatever that means. Maybe a world with one less dominant superpower will prove to be an improvement for the rest of us. I’m suspending my judgement. The Chinese leadership must be rubbing their hands together in glee.

What counts is how Australia is affected

Do you want fries with that?

In my long working life I've traversed the public sector, the private sector and the community sector - not lots of people can say that. I've seen the best – and the worst – of them all. Lately I've noticed a whole new approach to how local businesses interact with me. It's the 'do you want chips with that' approach to upping the spending ante. Given the way that over the last few decades we have started to treat public and community services like private businesses – and often turn them into private businesses – I expect to see this become more widespread.

As businesses go all out to recover from the economic ravages of the pandemic I’ve noticed a whole new approach. Everywhere I get asked ‘how was my day?’ This can become very irritating. I don’t even like to ask myself how my day was.

 

'Do you want fries with that?'

Alongside this new chumminess, there’s an enthusiasm to remind you of extra ways to spend money. It’s the ‘do you want fries with that?’ approach to upping the ante.

The bigger picture of the big picture

I write about culture and creativity, because these are important, because they interest me and because I’ve worked in the area all my life. Creativity and culture are important, but they don’t exist in a vacuum, so, as 2024 crawls into 2025, I find myself hitting the hard stuff, as far as ideas go. While it’s sobering reading, I expect to emerge blinking into the light of the New Year with a much clearer grasp of where the world is going in 2025 and beyond – the bigger picture of the big picture.

I write about culture and creativity, because these are important, because they interest me and because I’ve worked in the area all my life. I’ve been publishing articles about this on my blog, indefinite article, for the last 15 years but increasingly I am writing less about the specifics of arts and culture and more about the bigger picture – the bigger picture of the big picture.

Shuttered public facility, Greymouth, New Zealand, 2023

Childless and orphaned behind enemy lines

Life is made up of some big moments – birth, coming of age, getting an education, learning to dance, travelling to the other side of the world, playing music, speaking other languages, having children – even the death of loved ones, just so we know it’s not all fun. I sometimes realise that I am a childless orphan, possibly stuck behind enemy lines, in a world that is unravelling. We are teetering in a strange balance between building on the achievements of the past and desperately trying to dismantle them. In this time of upheaval – both good and bad – creativity is needed like never before. Underpinning our world, creativity and culture are the glue that holds everything together and the engine that drives it.

It's a shock to suddenly notice that I am a childless orphan, possibly stuck behind enemy lines, in a world that seems to be unravelling. We are teetering in a strange balance between building on the achievements of the past and desperately trying to dismantle them. In many countries, the current generation is poorer than the previous one, upending generations of dreams by working class parents and migrants for a better life for their children. In this time of upheaval and change – both good and bad – creativity is needed like never before.

Beginnings, middles and ends
Creativity and destruction, beginnings, middles and ends – they are all intertwined. Once we went to parties, now we go to funerals – perhaps the two are connected. When life finally gives up the ghost, whether you’re famous to the whole planet or just to your own friends and family, everyone is a hero in their own small way and a loss to the world when they go.

A man and his boy, the Central Highlands of Tasmania - the end of the Earth in the middle of nowhere.

I was remembering someone I used to work with a lifetime ago, someone even older than me, who had lived in England at one stage and owned a house in France. I wondered if she has gone back there when she retired. My fellow traveller said ‘she’s probably dead’ and I thought that perhaps people already wondered that about me – ‘whatever happened to such and such, he’s probably dead by now.’

Returning to France - liberté, égalité, fraternité

As we prepare to visit France yet again later this year, I had to ask myself why I find it so fascinating. Part of the reason is the influence French culture has had in so many areas. Part of the reason concerns a story told about Zhou Enlai, the former Premier of China. Asked by Kissinger what he thought were the long term effects of the French Revolution, he replied ‘it’s too soon to tell’. Even though it seems he was referring to the student uprising of May 1968, the truth is his answer could more accurately be a reference to the original French Revolution. I am very fond of a long term view – which seems particularly Chinese.

As we prepare to visit Europe again later this year, after a hiatus of over four years due to the pandemic, I was thinking about why I enjoy going to France so much. It’s not just because the buildings are so old and the food and wine is fabulous and you’re surrounded by a sense of the importance of culture. It’s not even because of some of the historic connections between Australia and France, amongst which is the story of Villers-Bretonneux, a small French village, which after being protected by Australian soldiers during World War I, put a sign up in the village school, saying ‘Never forget Australia’ and which still celebrates ANZAC day every year.

Surrounded by a sense of the importance of culture - Societe des Poetes Francais.

It also helps that I spent six years at high school in Tasmania learning French. I can still say 'J’ai étudié le Francais pendant six ans a l’ecole', even if I can't say much else. What I can do quite well is read French, so I get by with signs and labels in museums. I was very pleased when once, staying in Vaison-la-Romaine, destination of choice of many Parisian holidaymakers, I managed to ask for directions in French at the local Mairie (town hall) when we had to move our car early the next morning because a large market that blocked all roads was about to take place.

Keeping cities alive – making space for culture and the creative economy

As much as I am attracted to smaller and regional cities, the reality is that our large cities are where creativity (and more importantly applied creativity – innovation) occur, because critical mass and larger-scale proximity encourage experimentation and interaction and new ideas. Just up the road from where I live, the city of Sydney, the largest city in Australia (for the moment, anyway), is grappling with the loss of creative talent and the creative economy which has driven much of the excitement and liveability of the city for decades. Their attempts to address the issue offer useful pointers to other cities, large and small, facing the same issues.

On 12 June 2024, from 6:30pm–8:30pm at Centennial Hall, Sydney Town Hall, a serious line-up of Australian and global speakers – prominent artists, strategists and political decision-makers will discuss what to do about it, to help kick start strategies to turn the situation around.

Based on a true story

The whole idea that something is ‘based on a true story’, raises questions about fiction and lies, reality and truth and the whole relationship between creative interpretation and everyday life. While things are usually exactly what they seem – which is why conspiracy theories, while satisfying, are usually wrong – sometimes things are definitely not what they seem. Having worked in Government for quite a few years I often think that what might look like a malignant conspiracy, is more likely to be incompetence. Government can make big things happen, but usually doesn’t. It might be nice to think that Government could plan grand strategies, but often maybe it’s just bumbling along. Despite this, the answer to the question of whether something is based on a true story, is that everything is based on a true story.

It makes me think of the story about former noted Chinese Premier Zhou Enlai, supposedly a response to a question by Henry Kissinger. Asked what he thought was the long term impact of the French Revolution, he reputedly replied ‘It’s too early to tell’. This is a story that is so good and so profound that if it is not true, it needs to be. 

Dawn service – revisiting a long and personal story

Waking before dawn on ANZAC Day I suddenly thought I’d take part in my own one-person Dawn Service by thinking quietly about those in my own extended family who had been to war. That’s my five uncles all of whom fought in World War 2 – and survived – with a sense of humour and a string of medals. It’s also my family-in-law – my father-in-law and mother-in-law who were both conscripted into the German Army. My father-in-law once said to me ‘I’d had enough of armies’. My under-age father tried in vain to join up to be with the brothers he adored, but his father refused to sign the necessary papers – luckily, otherwise I might not be here, part of a later generation, remembering them all with great sadness.

It's ironic that we make such a big thing of ANZAC Day on this date, which celebrates a pointless battle in a pointless war. Unlike World War 2, where the democratic world stood against the scourge of fascism, in World War 1 it’s hard to imagine two combatants more similar or more interlinked by culture and history. 

Air and ground crew with Beaufort bomber, Camden UK September 1944. My uncle, Jack Cassidy, is eighth from the right in the second row from the front, with the khaki hat cover on.

However too many of our politicians love uniforms and posturing and remembering the dead (who fortunately can’t answer back) while neglecting the living – the veterans harmed in their service to Australia. If it helps with re-election, that’s a bonus.

Returning to reading – finding the best of all possible worlds

It’s a strange time we live in – but then, has any time not been a strange time. I often think that there is no way on Earth that I would ever want to live in an earlier era, before medicine was so developed, when the average life expectancy was in the mid 30s, when life for most people was a short spell of drudgery punctuated by poverty and fear. I'm making the most of it. Lately I’ve started to balance my fascination with the easy-earned opinion of the online universe with a return to reading writing, as distinct from glancing at jotting.

I grew up in the era of mass polio, where every child knew someone who was consigned to an iron lung and fear was everywhere. Then suddenly vaccination appeared and our generation embraced it with relief. In our day the way you became protected from a raft of diseases was to catch them and – if you were lucky enough to survive – when you eventually recovered, you were inoculated. Unfortunately, having spent hundreds of years dragging itself out of the Dark Ages, large chunks of humanity seem hell bent of dragging us back.

 The Boulten and Watt steam engine, Powerhouse Museum.

Easier to be connected than ever before
I like this well-connected time of ours, where I can find information (though not always knowledge) at the drop of a hat – if I’m wearing a hat, that is, which unfortunately in this country of extreme heat most people don’t seem to bother with. It’s a time where it is easier to be connected to those who are important in your life than ever before – no matter where they are on the planet.

Revhead heaven revisited – the possible promise where cars and culture overlap

Here in Canberra the massive convoy called Summernats has just rolled into town for another year. As usual it has incited the locals in a loud mix of love and hate – almost as loud as the car races themselves. Yet, like it or loathe it, cars are at the heart of everyday Australian life. Even if they don’t interest you all that much, or even if you mainly use public transport, you probably also use a car regularly. The Sunday drive, the regional road tour, the daily commute are all as Australian as burnt toast and peeling sunburn. The annual Summernats road extravaganza in Australia’s national capital celebrates this mobile culture. With some imagination, it could be even more – celebrating a central, while challenging, part of contemporary Australian popular culture.

This year the Summernats crowd were even outrageously blamed by a Canberra Times reader for defacing a string of memorials on the shores of Lake Burley Griffin over the new year – in the usual fashion of random comments that no-one cares about, normally only the Greens would get the blame.

Cars are at the heart of everyday Australian life. Even if they don’t interest you all that much, or even if you mainly use public transport, you probably also use a car regularly. The Sunday drive, the regional road tour, the daily commute are all as Australian as burnt toast and peeling sunburn. 

Summernats brings a mixed bag to the national capital – a large increase in atmospheric polution, a huge jump in stylish haircuts and sleek vehicles and, since last year, a parallel festival of popular culture in hipster heaven Braddon, which this year has been expanded to the whole three days of the main event. There has always been a dark side to Summernats, more so the further back you go, but even last year, but organisers seem to have been actively trying to make the event broader and more inclusive.

As old as the hills and as young as tomorrow - an unexpected insight into a hidden regional Australia

On a short regional road trip to Victoria, I stumbled across something unexpected – a nod back to my past and a taste of an Australia as old as the hills and, at the same time, as young as tomorrow. At a local food and wine festival I encountered Dark Emu dark lager, a collaboration between renowned author Bruce Pascoe and local brewery, Sailors Grave, which uses the seeds from the native grasses Bruce has been reintroducing after hundreds of years.

This week I’ve been in Inverloch in regional Victoria. While we were there we went to the Village Feast, organised by the Melbourne Food and Wine Festival, and joined the crowds eating, drinking and listening to music. For the last three years the Festival has been expanding into Victorian regional areas and this year it was the turn of Inverloch.

The Sailors Grave Brewery stall at the Inverloch Village feast.

The local produce was terrific – what's not to like about cheese and wine, especially when it's particularly likeable. Chef and presenter Adam Liaw was there, looking every bit as personable as he comes across on television. 

When one door closes, a window opens – moving on from another failed referendum

Looking forward from the failed referendum on The Voice to Parliament, everyone seems to be talking about how to find some positives after the result. It’s definitely time for a lot of thinking and rethinking. As I digest the result, I’m thinking about what it all means. There's quite a bit to say and it’s definitely time for thoughtful length rather than the slogans and catch phrases we’ve endured over the last few months. Despite the setback, lots of change is still happening. From my personal experience working alongside the community languages activists for some 15 years as they laboured to revive and maintain their First Nations languages there are many specific examples of positive changes. I can't see a failed referendum stopping their work. Their positive and practical spirit had a deep impact on me. These were people building an Australia for the future, drawing on the best parts of the past and overcoming the worst. They were some of the most impressive people I have ever met. I still remain close to many of them and I will remember them to my dying day.

Change at the level of Parliament and the Constitution seems – as has almost always been the case – to be too hard for Australians. The problem is that whenever any change to deal with the complexities of the modern world is proposed, big money is unleashed to protect power and privilege. As Bob Dylan observed ‘money doesn't talk, it swears.’ On top of those who weren't convinced of the merits of the proposal anyway, I suppose the outcome is not that surprising.

Shortage of knowledge and bullshit detectors
Too many Australians didn't have the knowledge of Australian history, of Indigenous communities or of how Government works. More importantly they didn't have enough of the learned critical skills to see through the expensive marketing campaigns, so they ended up marketing victims. It used to be said that Australians had an inbuilt bullshit detector, but that itself is the biggest piece of bullshit I've heard.

Mixed interpretations from The Treaty of Waitangi on display in Te Papa Tongarewa, the national museum of New Zealand in Wellington, show how in these sort of matters messaging is critical. Will the failure of the Voice to Parliament referendum reinforce calls for a treaty instead? It involves a much longer timeframe but has potentially far more wide-reaching implications.

Yet, despite this, lots of change is still happening. From my personal experience there are many specific examples of positive change, quite a few which come down to the community languages organisations, at both local level with dual naming, but also nationally through the work of First Languages Australia.