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Project: Migrant Project

Migrant Project
Visit the official website for Migrant Project

The Migrant Project was a multi-platform, creative initiative centered around Sydney as a city built on a history of migration.

From 2005-2009, 50 Sydneysiders with cultural and artistic roots from across the globe contributed. Monologues, short films, arguments, songs, costumes, agreements, music, ensemble dance pieces, speeches and more were made.

They were presented in a series of showings and forums and, ultimately, weaved together into a performance and then feature documentary of the same name, This City is a Body.

Click here to buy The Migrant Project DVD for only $20 including delivery.

The DVD includes:

  • the feature documentary, This City is a Body
  • a short film, 100 Blind Deals
  • a music clip, Sold / This City Mashup
  • and a luscious, 22 page colour booklet.

Payment can be made through PayPal or secure credit card payment gateway – or call us on (02) 9281 2570 to organise an alternative method of payment.

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During the course of The Migrant Project, Shakthi Sivanathan went from being an artist conducting his first project out of University to being the Founder/Director of CuriousWorks. It was a heady time – enjoy his reflection below.

The Migrant Project was a snowball that at its peak, spun out of control.

Five years have passed since it started in 2005, around casual conversations in alleyways and beer gardens. I am now writing this in an office – running a company I founded, initially, as a way of coping with the project’s erratic and sometimes tremendous growth.

The idea of working between cultures and disciplines has always been a natural impulse for me. It was not out of any desire to be ‘innovative’ or ‘original’. I had grown up familiar with the classical Indian art form of Bharatha Natyam, where movement and music were played out as one – the art form itself born out of temple sculptures and a pamphlet of text and images. In the last years of school, I had started playing music and then expanded my creative interests during University to theatre, film and online media. Multiculturalism was the social norm throughout – and with that came the multiplicity of artistic and philosophical traditions behind those cultures. Picking away at one idea with a number of creative tools – different media, different cultural influences – is an ancient approach – and it felt much like a natural reflection of the contemporary world, as well.


My mother, Anandavalli - Artistic Director Lingalayam Dance Company
My mother, Anandavalli – Artistic Director Lingalayam Dance Company
Photo by Filigree Films

At that point, however, the opportunities to see or participate in this kind of work in Sydney seemed to be minimal. Mainstream and independent arts companies alike were offering what I saw as segments of the city – a play about refugees here, a concert by Sudanese-Australians there. It was not that these events weren’t provoking or enjoyable – but they did leave a gap. What I felt was missing was a refraction of the city itself – a creative project that used as its foundation the acknowledgement that different groups both collided in and shared the space that was our city – and that was what we had to deal with, alongside the more neatly packaged art.

So I chatted to ten different colleagues – from very different backgrounds, culturally and artistically – and asked them to embark on a project with me. My only ‘rules’ were that I wanted to explore Sydney as a city where each member shared a common identity as a migrant. I wanted to draw attention to an exchange enacting itself on the streets, between the first guardians of this place and those who had travelled to it since; a city built on a history of migration. Thus the title of the project. I asked the collaborators to present something of themselves and where they came from in this context. I felt this to be an inclusive framework that side-stepped notions like ‘black and white Australia’. A shared city and a migrant past were the only qualities everyone in our group had in common. I hoped it would be a framework that dug up some of our city’s untold stories. I had this naïve notion that we could expand people’s idea of the word ‘migrant’.


Paul and Latai in rehearsals in Ultimo in 2006
Paul and Latai in rehearsals in Ultimo in 2006
Photo by Steven Papadakis

It was my first foray into the professional arts industry and ironically, we got the first grant we applied for. It was the Australia Council Dance Board’s ‘Take Your Partner Initiative’, to develop the first stage of the work in collaboration with former Bangarra dancer Albert David. At the time, I was ecstatic, grateful and entirely taken aback.

I left the development of the project completely open to the group – what issues we’d explore, what stories we’d tell, what medium or media we would use to share that content. This proved to be the resounding strength and weakness of the project over the next two years. A strength because of the diversity of excellent ideas that built up the project; a weakness because of the friction and confusion that came along with that diversity, in an already under-resourced context.

The irony of the grant stemmed from its support at the relatively small and peaceful initiation to the project, in early 2005. By the time Standing opened in September 2005, we’d already had our fair share of arguments and creative clashes. Over the next 18 months, dare I say, we descended into a controlled chaos. In 2006, we received a small grant from the Music Committee at Arts NSW, but no further support to develop the work, so we travelled to the Canberra Multicultural Arts Festival with Drifting, and then presented our biggest work, Grounded, at the Seymour centre with very little support at all. Interest had grown wildly in the project since the early days in 2005 – 23 people performed in Grounded in March 2006. (By the end of 2007, over 50 people had contributed to The Migrant Project). I had trouble keeping a lid on it.

On top of all that the project was picking up a lot of media interest, with some genuinely interesting previews that opened up ideas of how we might view Sydney and Australia, and reviews that ranged from extravagant praise to extravagant criticism. Thankfully we sold a good amount of tickets in Sydney either way. I started losing my hair, not to mention plenty of sleep, over these years. Even as I maintained good financial control of the project, even as we delivered rich and provocative creative works, the explosion of ideas and personalities was always what resounded the most. It left many of us reeling. In hindsight, this might have been anticipated from setting up a microcosm of a diverse city and inviting everyone to creatively share their personal stories and opinions. But caught up in the whirl of the project, it simply felt tiring, fascinating, wearying and inspiring, turn by turn.


Rehearsals in Glebe Town Hall for Rehearsals in Glebe Town Hall for “Grounded” 2006 Showing at Seymour Centre
Photo by Steven Papadakis

Behind all this was a colourful political backdrop. If you cast your mind back to the period from 2005-2007, political public relations, under John Howard’s Prime Ministership, were often unnecessarily racial – or at least that was how many of us received the government’s messages at the time. From the strident way the issue of Tampa and detention centres was managed in an election year, to Howard’s personal response to the ‘Cronulla Riots’, the divisive nature of the Citizenship tests, Kevin Andrew’s manner in reducing the African immigrant intake, right up to the debacle of the fake pamphlets in Western Sydney just before the 2007 election, the issue of multiculturalism and race never seemed to fade. This was remarkable, coming from a man who at the time oversaw Australia’s highest ever levels of immigration. There seemed to be little point in debating the virtues of multiculturalism – it was not only here, it was diversifying and settling in its own, ultimately uncontrollable way – whether or not you approved. The debate should have been about the different methods we might use to embrace it – indeed, take advantage of the wealth of diverse experience people were bringing into the country – for its social as well as economic benefit.


John Howard SMH Front Page
John Howard SMH Front Page upon 10 years in power

Of course, this kind of ‘post-multiculturalist’ approach cannot yet be the stance for our government institutions. Currently, the diversity of participation in our arts industry does not come close to matching the level of cultural diversity in the country. So the Australia Council for the Arts must, for very good reason, specifically encourage cultural diversity in the work it chooses to support. Of course this puts those of us involved in initiatives like The Migrant Project, looking to extend the meaning of migrant or multicultural to being a descriptor of all people, not just those who aren’t Anglo-Celtic, in a strange position. It also confuses those of non-English speaking backgrounds who use ‘migrant’ as a term of empowerment, of solidarity with other migrants. Where do we stand with them? To top it off, most of the other people working in interdisciplinary and site-specific work were focused on a particular culture or issue – they had not matched a diversity of creative influences to a diversity of cultural influences. So we were isolated in a trifecta of ways. To be honest, I only use words like intercultural or interdisciplinary because I feel I have to, to give people an idea of how a particular work of ours might differ from the norm. It is amazing how many long and technical words you have to use simply to describe a creative project that mirrors the make up of the city that spawned it.

At no point until mid-2007 did a group of Migrant Project artists have the opportunity to rehearse regularly and consistently in the lead up to an event. This made a big difference to the atmosphere of the overall project. The fourth performance, This City is a Body, was a relatively peaceful stage, supported by the Theatre Board of the Australia Council. It was a phase that involved the distillation of ideas rather than the explosion of ideas and the project sorely needed it. We had a lovely, sold out season within the rooms of the beautiful Hyde Park Barracks, with little media interest or extravagant reactions when compared to the heady days of 2005-2006. Draw from that what you will.

The openness of the project remains its defining characteristic; simultaneously its most positive and negative quality. It is, ultimately, what I love about it. The Migrant Project reminds me how thrilling, ruthless and satisfying exercises in true democracy can be. But it will be quite a while before I return this type of creative exercise again.

I’ve learnt countless lessons from the project, personally and professionally. You can’t rely on subsidies to sustain your independent, creative work, especially if your focus is on innovating between the lines. There isn’t enough to go around, after the already-established companies receive their portion. Moreover, diversifying your income as a creative person or creative organisation, is a healthy and usually necessary practice. This project has also shown me that the management of an idea is just as important as the idea itself – not only in terms of making it a success, but also in ensuring it has an ultimately positive impact for all of those who are a part of it. When it came to writing my Twitter profile, I was proud to list ‘Manager’ as one of my responsibilities, which is unusual for an ‘artist’.

Even though the performances made up the bulk of the first years of The Migrant Project, much of the material in the film is not from those performances. I have tried to describe the intensity with which the performances drove the project, in the hope of going someway to providing a context for the raw, earnest, unusual work that is in the film. It has gathered on the side lines, in rehearsals, in between rehearsals, filmed or recorded in little snippets of available time. It is all part of the same journey.

To my fellow Sydneysiders: the performances are over now, but what you will encounter in the film are the opinions, stories and thoughts of over 50 people who work, live and belong to the same city as you do. I haven’t said too much about their amazing contributions because the films speaks for itself – and I don’t want to be facetious about it. Suffice to say that I stuck with this project and was always proud to lead it because of the incredible array of contributions that people made to it. I would not have maintained it if not for the dedication of many people to the idea of the initiative itself.

Four of the people who started The Migrant Project with me – Aimee Falzon, Elias Bakhos, Robin Dixon and Mahesh Radhakrishnan – were still part of the project three years on. We continue to be friends and work with each other today, in different ways. Mahesh is soon getting married to someone he met through the project! Paul Cordeiro and Iqbal Barkat have been subtle mentors for me, of very different sorts, for some important periods in the past four years. Rebecca Sng has stuck through the project as a sound voice and is now the sound chair of our board at CuriousWorks. Stuart Gibson and Gary Lo were inspirations at the start of the project, dedicating great swathes of their time. Latai Taumoepeau also dedicated a great deal of her time to the project in 2006. A big love to you all, and all those who dipped into the beast that was this amazing project, that managed to surprise us all!

This City is a Body: The Migrant Project Film Trailer



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One of the underlying messages of The Migrant Project was to recall and celebrate what our nomadic, hunter-gatherer lifestyles had brought out in us. We looked back to a lifestyle ...

One of the underlying messages of The Migrant Project was to recall and celebrate what our nomadic, hunter-gatherer lifestyles had brought out in us. We looked back to a lifestyle based on movement and examined what we lost (and gained) when most of us became a relatively static, land-owning populous. To see what we discovered, you can always check out our DVD: http://migrantproject.net/pages/movie .

But it is certainly worth reading this though-provoking article form Jared in this context.

*This article is from http://www.ditext.com/diamond/mistake.html – it is copied from there and pasted in below. *

The Worst Mistake in the History of the Human Race

By Jared Diamond
University of California at Los Angeles Medical School

To science we owe dramatic changes in our smug self-image. Astronomy taught us that our earth isn’t the center of the universe but merely one of billions of heavenly bodies. From biology we learned that we weren’t specially created by God but evolved along with millions of other species. Now archaeology is demolishing another sacred belief: that human history over the past million years has been a long tale of progress. In particular, recent discoveries suggest that the adoption of agriculture, supposedly our most decisive step toward a better life, was in many ways a catastrophe from which we have never recovered. With agriculture came the gross social and sexual inequality, the disease and despotism, that curse our existence.

At first, the evidence against this revisionist interpretation will strike twentieth century Americans as irrefutable. We’re better off in almost every respect than people of the Middle Ages, who in turn had it easier than cavemen, who in turn were better off than apes. Just count our advantages. We enjoy the most abundant and varied foods, the best tools and material goods, some of the longest and healthiest lives, in history. Most of us are safe from starvation and predators. We get our energy from oil and machines, not from our sweat. What neo-Luddite among us would trade his life for that of a medieval peasant, a caveman, or an ape?

For most of our history we supported ourselves by hunting and gathering: we hunted wild animals and foraged for wild plants. It’s a life that philosophers have traditionally regarded as nasty, brutish, and short. Since no food is grown and little is stored, there is (in this view) no respite from the struggle that starts anew each day to find wild foods and avoid starving. Our escape from this misery was facilitated only 10,000 years ago, when in different parts of the world people began to domesticate plants and animals. The agricultural revolution spread until today it’s nearly universal and few tribes of hunter-gatherers survive.

From the progressivist perspective on which I was brought up, to ask “Why did almost all our hunter-gatherer ancestors adopt agriculture?” is silly. Of course they adopted it because agriculture is an efficient way to get more food for less work. Planted crops yield far more tons per acre than roots and berries. Just imagine a band of savages, exhausted from searching for nuts or chasing wild animals, suddenly grazing for the first time at a fruit-laden orchard or a pasture full of sheep. How many milliseconds do you think it would take them to appreciate the advantages of agriculture?

The progressivist party line sometimes even goes so far as to credit agriculture with the remarkable flowering of art that has taken place over the past few thousand years. Since crops can be stored, and since it takes less time to pick food from a garden than to find it in the wild, agriculture gave us free time that hunter-gatherers never had. Thus it was agriculture that enabled us to build the Parthenon and compose the B-minor Mass.

While the case for the progressivist view seems overwhelming, it’s hard to prove. How do you show that the lives of people 10,000 years ago got better when they abandoned hunting and gathering for farming? Until recently, archaeologists had to resort to indirect tests, whose results (surprisingly) failed to support the progressivist view. Here’s one example of an indirect test: Are twentieth century hunter-gatherers really worse off than farmers? Scattered throughout the world, several dozen groups of so-called primitive people, like the Kalahari bushmen, continue to support themselves that way. It turns out that these people have plenty of leisure time, sleep a good deal, and work less hard than their farming neighbors. For instance, the average time devoted each week to obtaining food is only 12 to 19 hours for one group of Bushmen, 14 hours or less for the Hadza nomads of Tanzania. One Bushman, when asked why he hadn’t emulated neighboring tribes by adopting agriculture, replied, “Why should we, when there are so many mongongo nuts in the world?”

While farmers concentrate on high-carbohydrate crops like rice and potatoes, the mix of wild plants and animals in the diets of surviving hunter-gatherers provides more protein and a bettter balance of other nutrients. In one study, the Bushmen’s average daily food intake (during a month when food was plentiful) was 2,140 calories and 93 grams of protein, considerably greater than the recommended daily allowance for people of their size. It’s almost inconceivable that Bushmen, who eat 75 or so wild plants, could die of starvation the way hundreds of thousands of Irish farmers and their families did during the potato famine of the 1840s.

So the lives of at least the surviving hunter-gatherers aren’t nasty and brutish, even though farmes have pushed them into some of the world’s worst real estate. But modern hunter-gatherer societies that have rubbed shoulders with farming societies for thousands of years don’t tell us about conditions before the agricultural revolution. The progressivist view is really making a claim about the distant past: that the lives of primitive people improved when they switched from gathering to farming. Archaeologists can date that switch by distinguishing remains of wild plants and animals from those of domesticated ones in prehistoric garbage dumps.

How can one deduce the health of the prehistoric garbage makers, and thereby directly test the progressivist view? That question has become answerable only in recent years, in part through the newly emerging techniques of paleopathology, the study of signs of disease in the remains of ancient peoples.

In some lucky situations, the paleopathologist has almost as much material to study as a pathologist today. For example, archaeologists in the Chilean deserts found well preserved mummies whose medical conditions at time of death could be determined by autopsy (Discover, October). And feces of long-dead Indians who lived in dry caves in Nevada remain sufficiently well preserved to be examined for hookworm and other parasites.

Usually the only human remains available for study are skeletons, but they permit a surprising number of deductions. To begin with, a skeleton reveals its owner’s sex, weight, and approximate age. In the few cases where there are many skeletons, one can construct mortality tables like the ones life insurance companies use to calculate expected life span and risk of death at any given age. Paleopathologists can also calculate growth rates by measuring bones of people of different ages, examine teeth for enamel defects (signs of childhood malnutrition), and recognize scars left on bones by anemia, tuberculosis, leprosy, and other diseases.

One straight forward example of what paleopathologists have learned from skeletons concerns historical changes in height. Skeletons from Greece and Turkey show that the average height of hunger-gatherers toward the end of the ice ages was a generous 5’ 9’' for men, 5’ 5’' for women. With the adoption of agriculture, height crashed, and by 3000 B. C. had reached a low of only 5’ 3’' for men, 5’ for women. By classical times heights were very slowly on the rise again, but modern Greeks and Turks have still not regained the average height of their distant ancestors.

Another example of paleopathology at work is the study of Indian skeletons from burial mounds in the Illinois and Ohio river valleys. At Dickson Mounds, located near the confluence of the Spoon and Illinois rivers, archaeologists have excavated some 800 skeletons that paint a picture of the health changes that occurred when a hunter-gatherer culture gave way to intensive maize farming around A. D. 1150. Studies by George Armelagos and his colleagues then at the University of Massachusetts show these early farmers paid a price for their new-found livelihood. Compared to the hunter-gatherers who preceded them, the farmers had a nearly 50 per cent increase in enamel defects indicative of malnutrition, a fourfold increase in iron-deficiency anemia (evidenced by a bone condition called porotic hyperostosis), a theefold rise in bone lesions reflecting infectious disease in general, and an increase in degenerative conditions of the spine, probably reflecting a lot of hard physical labor. “Life expectancy at birth in the pre-agricultural community was bout twenty-six years,” says Armelagos, “but in the post-agricultural community it was nineteen years. So these episodes of nutritional stress and infectious disease were seriously affecting their ability to survive.”

The evidence suggests that the Indians at Dickson Mounds, like many other primitive peoples, took up farming not by choice but from necessity in order to feed their constantly growing numbers. “I don’t think most hunger-gatherers farmed until they had to, and when they switched to farming they traded quality for quantity,” says Mark Cohen of the State University of New York at Plattsburgh, co-editor with Armelagos, of one of the seminal books in the field, Paleopathology at the Origins of Agriculture. “When I first started making that argument ten years ago, not many people agreed with me. Now it’s become a respectable, albeit controversial, side of the debate.”

There are at least three sets of reasons to explain the findings that agriculture was bad for health. First, hunter-gatherers enjoyed a varied diet, while early fanners obtained most of their food from one or a few starchy crops. The farmers gained cheap calories at the cost of poor nutrition, (today just three high-carbohydrate plants — wheat, rice, and corn — provide the bulk of the calories consumed by the human species, yet each one is deficient in certain vitamins or amino acids essential to life.) Second, because of dependence on a limited number of crops, farmers ran the risk of starvation if one crop failed. Finally, the mere fact that agriculture encouraged people to clump together in crowded societies, many of which then carried on trade with other crowded societies, led to the spread of parasites and infectious disease. (Some archaeologists think it was the crowding, rather than agriculture, that promoted disease, but this is a chicken-and-egg argument, because crowding encourages agriculture and vice versa.) Epidemics couldn’t take hold when populations were scattered in small bands that constantly shifted camp. Tuberculosis and diarrheal disease had to await the rise of farming, measles and bubonic plague the appearnce of large cities.

Besides malnutrition, starvation, and epidemic diseases, farming helped bring another curse upon humanity: deep class divisions. Hunter-gatherers have little or no stored food, and no concentrated food sources, like an orchard or a herd of cows: they live off the wild plants and animals they obtain each day. Therefore, there can be no kings, no class of social parasites who grow fat on food seized from others. Only in a farming population could a healthy, non-producing elite set itself above the disease-ridden masses. Skeletons from Greek tombs at Mycenae c. 1500 B. C. suggest that royals enjoyed a better diet than commoners, since the royal skeletons were two or three inches taller and had better teeth (on the average, one instead of six cavities or missing teeth). Among Chilean mummies from c. A. D. 1000, the elite were distinguished not only by ornaments and gold hair clips but also by a fourfold lower rate of bone lesions caused by disease.

Similar contrasts in nutrition and health persist on a global scale today. To people in rich countries like the U. S., it sounds ridiculous to extol the virtues of hunting and gathering. But Americans are an elite, dependent on oil and minerals that must often be imported from countries with poorer health and nutrition. If one could choose between being a peasant farmer in Ethiopia or a bushman gatherer in the Kalahari, which do you think would be the better choice?

Farming may have encouraged inequality between the sexes, as well. Freed from the need to transport their babies during a nomadic existence, and under pressure to produce more hands to till the fields, farming women tended to have more frequent pregnancies than their hunter-gatherer counterparts — with consequent drains on their health. Among the Chilean mummies for example, more women than men had bone lesions from infectious disease.

Women in agricultural societies were sometimes made beasts of burden. In New Guinea farming communities today I often see women staggering under loads of vegetables and firewood while the men walk empty-handed. Once while on a field trip there studying birds, I offered to pay some villagers to carry supplies from an airstrip to my mountain camp. The heaviest item was a 110-pound bag of rice, which I lashed to a pole and assigned to a team of four men to shoulder together. When I eventually caught up with the villagers, the men were carrying light loads, while one small woman weighing less than the bag of rice was bent under it, supporting its weight by a cord across her temples.

As for the claim that agriculture encouraged the flowering of art by providing us with leisure time, modern hunter-gatherers have at least as much free time as do farmers. The whole emphasis on leisure time as a critical factor seems to me misguided. Gorillas have had ample free time to build their own Parthenon, had they wanted to. While post-agricultural technological advances did make new art forms possible and preservation of art easier, great paintings and sculptures were already being produced by hunter-gatherers 15,000 years ago, and were still being produced as recently as the last century by such hunter-gatherers as some Eskimos and the Indians of the Pacific Northwest.

Thus with the advent of agriculture and elite became better off, but most people became worse off. Instead of swallowing the progressivist party line that we chose agriculture because it was good for us, we must ask how we got trapped by it despite its pitfalls.

One answer boils down to the adage “Might makes right.” Farming could support many more people than hunting, albeit with a poorer quality of life. (Population densities of hunter-gatherers are rarely over on person per ten square miles, while farmers average 100 times that.) Partly, this is because a field planted entirely in edible crops lets one feed far more mouths than a forest with scattered edible plants. Partly, too, it’s because nomadic hunter-gatherers have to keep their children spaced at four-year intervals by infanticide and other means, since a mother must carry her toddler until it’s old enough to keep up with the adults. Because farm women don’t have that burden, they can and often do bear a child every two years.

As population densities of hunter-gatherers slowly rose at the end of the ice ages, bands had to choose between feeding more mouths by taking the first steps toward agriculture, or else finding ways to limit growth. Some bands chose the former solution, unable to anticipate the evils of farming, and seduced by the transient abundance they enjoyed until population growth caught up with increased food production. Such bands outbred and then drove off or killed the bands that chose to remain hunter-gatherers, because a hundred malnourished farmers can still outfight one healthy hunter. It’s not that hunter-gatherers abandoned their life style, but that those sensible enough not to abandon it were forced out of all areas except the ones farmers didn’t want.

At this point it’s instructive to recall the common complaint that archaeology is a luxury, concerned with the remote past, and offering no lessons for the present. Archaeologists studying the rise of farming have reconstructed a crucial stage at which we made the worst mistake in human history. Forced to choose between limiting population or trying to increase food production, we chose the latter and ended up with starvation, warfare, and tyranny.

Hunter-gatherers practiced the most successful and longest-lasting life style in human history. In contrast, we’re still struggling with the mess into which agriculture has tumbled us, and it’s unclear whether we can solve it. Suppose that an archaeologist who had visited from outer space were trying to explain human history to his fellow spacelings. He might illustrate the results of his digs by a 24-hour clock on which one hour represents 100,000 years of real past time. If the history of the human race began at midnight, then we would now be almost at the end of our first day. We lived as hunter-gatherers for nearly the whole of that day, from midnight through dawn, noon, and sunset. Finally, at 11:54 p. m. we adopted agriculture. As our second midnight approaches, will the plight of famine-stricken peasants gradually spread to engulf us all? Or will we somehow achieve those seductive blessings that we imagine behind agriculture’s glittering facade, and that have so far eluded us?

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People would much prefer I was Spider Man than the reality of my actual western-ness, which is way too audacious for any one with regular human powers.

by James

Spider Man, Spider Man. I get this at least five times a day, on the packed wet subway, in bars, eating baozi on the street in Beijing. At first, it was a completely unnerving experience to be approached by complete strangers demanding that I am a spandex-clad super-hero underneath my button-down Peter Parker work clothes. However I’ve always fantasised about being an undercover vigilante. I’m quite chuffed really that I’m finally being recognised en masse (even if im riding the coat tails of legitimate fame).

I don’t actually think it’s because I look that much like Tobey Maguire. My half Greek friend in India has been called Spider Man too. It’s a combination of things, my face, obviously, and my hair. But also in some literal way, the ability when walking around here to draw an almost super-power awe at my western mannerisms, my subconscious disregard for minute social conventions, my default egalitarianism, my bounding enthusiasm. People would much prefer I was Spider Man than the reality of my actual western-ness, which is way too audacious for any one with regular human powers.

I would much rather be Spider Man too, than the alternative cast: a sensationalist, overbaked cynical White man, already jaded and drunk on my own intellectual arrogance. I’ve seen some tired expats wearing this around, and I want to avoid this at all costs.

Middle ground is so difficult to find, and every assumption I’ve made has been wrong. No, humour isn’t an effective way. No, trying too hard has made it worse. No, shutting up simply shuts me out and shits me off. No one here has asked about me, who I am, where I’m from, what I do, who my friends are, do I play a musical instrument, whats my favourite foods/colours/songs. To do so would be an attack on my privacy, and would display a curiosity unbecoming.

So for the moment I’m Spider Man. I’m the powerful, the unknown, the untouchable. Mystery has built around me in my work place like some kind of visiting dignitary. No one has seen the real Spider Man.

And for now I think we’re both exceptionally happy with this arrangement, for now we’re actually doing all we can to fortify these positions. And at least in this, we’re sharing a common purpose.

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Screening InformationDigital File and DVD PAL/NTSC availableRunning Time: 80mins (Main Feature 55mins) This City is a Body is the kind of film that generates discussion. It is available for screenings ...

Screening Information
Digital File and DVD PAL/NTSC available
Running Time: 80mins (Main Feature 55mins)

This City is a Body is the kind of film that generates discussion.

It is available for screenings at schools, religious institutions, community organisations and private residences. Screening rates are affordable and tiered to commercial, non-commercial and community needs.

Please contact us to discuss further.

Shakthi Sivanathan
c/o CuriousWorks
shakthi@curiousworks.com.au
(02) 9281 2570
402/11 Randle St Surry Hills NSW 2010 Australia

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A beautifully packaged DVD with a luscious 22 page booklet.The DVD includes the main feature, This City is a Body, a short film 100 Blind Deals and the mashup Sold ...

A beautifully packaged DVD with a luscious 22 page booklet.

The DVD includes the main feature, This City is a Body, ashort film 100 Blind Deals and the mashup Sold / This City is a Body .

Only $20 including GST (Australian buyers) and shipping to anywhere in the world.

Click here to read the director’s statement.
Click here if you are from an educational institution.

Background

Over 4 years, 50 people from the same city worked on The Migrant Project : CuriousWorks’ first creative initiative. The action was documented on video by many different people, on many different cameras. The resulting edit, unfolding an invisible, bird’s eye view of the project, is the film This City is a Body .

It is a portrait of Sydney, Australia, from the ground up: an examination of a place built on a history of migration. Its backdrop is a time in Australia’s history when a race riot, desperate refugees and citizenship tests seemed to dominate the political agenda.

This film is for anyone who has wondered about mapping more than a city’s streets. Anyone who has thought about who their belonging displaces. This City is a Body doesn’t provide any answers, but it does depict the extraordinary journey of one motley group trying to – and bringing you along with them, whether you like it or not.

Excerpts

This City is a Body Part 2: Survival

This City is a Body Part 5: Them

Please note this video contains sustained coarse language at one point. A safe version of the film is available for education buyers: please click here to acquire it.

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I am currently in Canada and trying to bring my partner, who is also male, back to Australia to live with me.

by Matt

When I think of dangerous border crossings, I tend to think of those horror stories one hears about stolen passports and ludicrous bribes extracted deep in foreign jungles or at gun-point somewhere in Siberia. Over the past five years, I have begun to see that, for some, Australia’s borders are just as dangerous. Need I say more than Tampa. Little did I know that I would be engaging on a little dangerous border crossing of my own.

I am currently in Canada and trying to bring my partner, who is also male, back to Australia to live with me. As queer men, we are used to dangerous border crossings, albeit of the more gender-bending, transgressive social and sexual variety, but not one so immovable and unfair as that of world-wide immigration. We are two people who have fallen in love. We met at Mardi Gras, when both of us were working as volunteers, and have travelled each other’s countries and now want to start making a life with one another. In Canada, this may lead to marriage. I’ll be able to arrive at a border and tick “SPOUSE” and I’ll be in like Flynn. In Australia, he has no box to tick (which some people, including some queers, are just fine with) and he’ll have to enter as a tourist and go home after three months. One year in to our relationship, we can claim an “INTER-DEPENDENCY” and he may become a temporary resident. The word inter-dependency is the furthest representation of what we have and speaks nothing of the affection and love we share for one another.

The concept of immigration is strange to me. Why do we erect these borders in the first place? Why do we try to legislate against love? Right now, in Canada, we live as others do and have the rights that others do. In Australia, we could end up on either sides of a barbed wire fence, fingers outstretched to one another, me and my inter-dependent.

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