Mirrors. Bleach-white lights. Posters of hulking rolled shouldered men staring through their sweat. Sounds of leather-fisted thuds. The hiss from clenched teeth. Glaze-focused stares. Inspirational slogans scream,
“The more you sweat the less you bleed.” more…
So there I was, more…
![220744-120110-a-buried-city[1]](http://augustasupple.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/220744-120110-a-buried-city1-300x168.jpg "220744-120110-a-buried-city[1]")
It’s been a long time since I have seen anything like BURIED CITY. more…
We all know the Summer of the Seventeenth Doll. It is the play that rocked the boat in 1955 on Australian stages and that rocking boat headed straight overseas as an example of Australian life. It was play held within yellowing books, standing like white soldiers on the shelves of my high school's English/Drama classroom. more…
After a sophisticated large scale, main stage dose of Lally Katz in the form of Neighbourhood Watch at Belvoir, Sydney audiences have an opportunity to view some of her earlier work, small-scale, intimate and full of possibility programmed as a part of the Griffin Independent season. more…
“Mary Street. It is dawn. The dawn light is a sort of thin violet colour, similar to evening, but with the feeling of it rising.
The street is still and quiet, not quite woken up yet.”
We sit in silence as the world of Lally’s Katz’s play is wheeled out before us… garbage bins on wheels and the weekly routine that unites us all. more…
Seagulls are, as any ornithologist knows, carnivorous scavengers. Pack birds. Birds that possess a unique mob-mentality and a very clear pecking order. Baby gulls bully their parents with powerful squawks. They will ready to elongate their necks and let forth an alarming noise when courting or challenging other gulls. As a teenager trapped, growing up in the pastoral “paradise” of a northern NSW coastal town, I would sit on the dunes and watch as the gulls scurry about, robbing teenage surfer boys (and their accompanying bikini babes) of their fat, hot chips swaddled in butchers paper. I’d watch the gulls squawk and flap, demanding chips. I’d watch the surfers squawk and flap at the seagulls. I’d overhear the myths (or were they?) of if you give a seagull an aspirin (hidden in a chip) they explode.
That was half my lifetime ago. more…
Like the assassination of JFK, the collapse of the Twin Towers, it can be argued that one’s first kiss is equally a transforming experience. more…
I’ve been typing. I have been sitting here typing. There are four sentences half-formed and mangled below this sentence. It’s been five days or so since seeing The Business and I have been sitting on it. more…
Try as we might, there is no escaping history. We carry it in our bones, our skin – the wrinkles, freckles, scars carry the impact of a life lived – a life of suffering, struggle that no one can avoid. This tender organ – the largest in our body – constantly shedding, in minute scales – contains our unique genetic information which we leave as a trail where ever we go – like Hansel and Gretel’s bread crumbs. more…