Search

Placeholder Content Image

Menopause is having a moment. How a new generation of women are shaping cultural attitudes

<p><em><a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/bridgette-glover-2232638">Bridgette Glover</a>, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/university-of-new-england-919">University of New England</a></em></p> <p>From hot flashes to hysteria, <a href="https://rowman.com/ISBN/9780739170007/Periods-in-Pop-Culture-Menstruation-in-Film-and-Television">film and TV</a> have long represented menopause as scary, emotional and messy.</p> <p>Recently, celebrities have been sharing their personal menopause experiences on social media, helping to re-frame the conversation in popular culture.</p> <p>We are also seeing more stories about menopause on television, with real stories and depictions that show greater empathy for the person going through it.</p> <p>Menopause is having a moment. But will it help women?</p> <h2>The change onscreen</h2> <p>This is not what we’re used to seeing on our screens. Countless sitcoms, from All in the Family (1971–79) to Two and a Half Men (2003–15) have used the menopause madness trope for laughs.</p> <p>Retro sitcom That ‘70s Show (1998–2006) used mom Kitty’s menopause journey as comedic fodder for multiple episodes. When she mistakes a missed period for pregnancy, Kitty’s surprise menopause diagnosis results in an identity crisis alongside mood swings, hot flashes and irritability.</p> <p>But the audience is not meant to empathise. Instead, the focus is on how Kitty’s menopause impacts the men in her family. Having to navigate Kitty’s symptoms, her veteran husband likens the experience to war: “I haven’t been this frosty since Korea”.</p> <figure><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/mPLJBZiKV4U?wmode=transparent&amp;start=0" width="440" height="260" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe></figure> <p>Even when male characters are not directly involved, women are determined to reject menopause because they see it as a marker of age that signals a loss of desirability and social worth. In Sex and the City (1998–2004), Samantha describes herself as “day-old bread” when she presumes her late period signifies menopause.</p> <p>This is a popular framing of menopause in <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/14680777.2018.1409969">post-feminist TV</a> of the 1990s and early 2000s. While the <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/14680777.2012.712373#d1e783">menstruating body</a> is constructed as uncontrollable and in need of management, the menopausal body requires management and maintenance to reject signals of collapse.</p> <p>These storylines erase the genuine experiences of confusion, discomfort and transformation that come with menopause.</p> <h2>A cultural moment arrives</h2> <p><a href="https://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2015/12/31/460726461/why-2015-was-the-year-of-the-period-and-we-dont-mean-punctuation">Since 2015</a>, stories of menstruation have increased in popular culture.</p> <p>Series like comedy Broad City (2014–19) and comedy-drama Better Things (2016–22) directly call out the lack of menopause representations. When Abbi in Broad City admits she “totally forgot about menopause”, a woman responds “Menopause isn’t represented in mainstream media. Like, no one wants to talk about it”.</p> <p>Similarly, in Better Things, while watching her three daughters stare at the TV Sam laments: “No one wants to hear about it, which is why nobody ever prepared you for it”.</p> <p>And lack of preparation becomes a key theme for perimenopausal Charlotte in the Sex and the City reboot, And Just Like That … (2021–) when she has a “flash period”.</p> <figure><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/9AmwXuHo-2w?wmode=transparent&amp;start=0" width="440" height="260" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe></figure> <p>Fleabag (2016–19) included a groundbreaking monologue about menopause delivered by Kristen Scott-Thomas, playing a successful businesswoman. She describes menopause as “horrendous, but then it’s magnificent”.</p> <blockquote> <p>[…] your entire pelvic floor crumbles, and you get fucking hot, and no one cares. But then you’re free. No longer a slave. No longer a machine with parts.</p> </blockquote> <figure><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/RZrnHnASRV8?wmode=transparent&amp;start=13" width="440" height="260" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe></figure> <p>Scripted by Phoebe Waller-Bridge, this <a href="https://www.latimes.com/entertainment/la-et-menopause-20190524-story.html">celebrated</a> monologue critiques the post-feminist notion of striving to be the “<a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/14680777.2012.712373#d1e783">idealised feminine body</a>”. Through this new feminist lens, menopause is acknowledged as both painful – physically and emotionally – and necessary for liberation.</p> <h2>Today’s menopause on screen</h2> <p>Alongside more recent series like The Change (2023), multiple documentaries including <a href="https://www.tamsenfadal.com/the-m-factor">The (M) Factor</a> (2024), and <a href="https://theconversation.com/there-is-no-future-for-ageing-women-how-the-substance-uses-body-horror-in-a-feminist-critique-239729">arguably</a> even films like The Substance (2024), social media has become a prolific space for raising awareness about menopause.</p> <p>Celebrities use social media to share tales of perimenopause and menopause, often in real time.</p> <p>Last year, actor Drew Barrymore experienced her “first perimenopausal hot flash” during her talk show.</p> <p>And ABC News Breakfast guest host, Imogen Crump, had to pause her news segment, saying</p> <blockquote> <p>I could keep stumbling through, but I’m having such a perimenopausal hot flush right now, live on air.</p> </blockquote> <p>Both Barrymore and Crump shared clips of their live segments to their social media pages, to challenge stigma and create conversations. Crump even posted to <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/posts/imogen-crump-6b74b726_perimenopause-activity-7127788484861300736-mhHh/">LinkedIn</a> to raise awareness in a professional setting.</p> <p>In a podcast interview clip shared to Instagram, writer and skincare founder, Zoë Foster Blake describes perimenopause as a “real mental health thing”, because of the lack of awareness. Recalling conversations with other perimenopausal women, Foster Blake says “We all think we’re crazy. We don’t know what the fuck is going on”.</p> <p>Feeling “crazy” is a constant theme in these conversations. As actor and <a href="https://stripesbeauty.com/pages/founder-story">menopause awareness advocate</a> Naomi Watts points out, this is largely thanks to Hollywood. Despite the stigmatising media stereotype of “crazy lady that shouts”, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TQ3BN9rS_7g">Watts argues</a> that with “support and community”, women experiencing perimenopause and menopause “can thrive”.</p> <p>In fact, Watts believes menopause should be celebrated: “we know ourselves better, we’re wiser for our cumulative experiences”.</p> <p>Medical professionals like American doctors <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/DBUCPW5OUTf/">Marie Clare Haver</a> and <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/C7IfaHDgXMY/">Corinne Menn</a> have been well-positioned to share their expertise and experiences via social media. They are catching and helping fuel a wave of advocacy and awareness for midlife women’s health.</p> <h2>Building community</h2> <p>After watching the menopause madness trope on our screens for decades, we are now seeing perimenopause and menopause depicted with more empathy. These depictions allow viewers – those who menstruate, who have menstruated, and who know menstruators – to feel seen and be informed.</p> <p>By sharing their experiences on social media and adding to these new screen stories, celebrities are building a community that makes the menopausal journey less lonely and helps those on it remember their worth.<img style="border: none !important; box-shadow: none !important; margin: 0 !important; max-height: 1px !important; max-width: 1px !important; min-height: 1px !important; min-width: 1px !important; opacity: 0 !important; outline: none !important; padding: 0 !important;" src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/241784/count.gif?distributor=republish-lightbox-basic" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" /></p> <p><em><a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/bridgette-glover-2232638">Bridgette Glover</a>, PhD Candidate in Media and Communications, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/university-of-new-england-919">University of New England</a></em></p> <p><em>Image credits: Shutterstock </em></p> <p><em>This article is republished from <a href="https://theconversation.com">The Conversation</a> under a Creative Commons license. Read the <a href="https://theconversation.com/menopause-is-having-a-moment-how-a-new-generation-of-women-are-shaping-cultural-attitudes-241784">original article</a>.</em></p>

Body

Placeholder Content Image

Readers response: What’s the most interesting cultural experience you've had while travelling?

<p>When travelling abroad, we are often exposed to new and fascinating cultures that can open our eyes to different ways of life.</p> <p>We asked our readers to share the most interesting cultural experience they've had while travelling, and the response was overwhelming. Here's what they said.</p> <p><strong>Sandra Beckett</strong> - Staying overnight in a Ger in Mongolia miles from anywhere, listening to Throat singing accompanied by two traditionally dressed musicians playing Horsehead fiddles. Also, travelling across Russia by train, visiting the Galapagos islands, Skara Brae in the Orkneys, the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul.</p> <p><strong>Denise Ryan</strong> - Listening to glorious classical music played in Havana’s Plaza de la Catedral and attending a stunning performance of Swan Lake in the Grand Theatre of Havana.</p> <p><strong>Deedee Cullum</strong> - Visiting Ypres in Belgium and staying the night so we could see the evening ceremony at the Menin gate.</p> <p><strong>Alison Davenport</strong> - 50 years ago visiting a Fijian village made me realise everyone didn't live like I did. Have been amazed at all travel experiences since.</p> <p><strong>Glenn Turton</strong> - Staying in a farmhouse in Normandy for a week. Visiting D-Day beaches and Mont St Michel from there and local villages and markets on the days between. Back to the farmhouse each night to cook local produce and sit by an open fire.</p> <p><strong>Karen Psaila</strong> - Sitting in a small ally sipping black sweet tea in Egypt looking at the pyramids and sphinx whilst camels are strolling by. Amazing.</p> <p><strong>Patricia Watson</strong> - Darwin. Spending a day with First Nation Women and Children in the bush and learning about food that grows and is edible in that area.</p> <p><strong>James Langabeer</strong> - This are my three top three most interesting cultural experiences.</p> <p>1. Japan's Tea Ceremony: Attending a traditional tea ceremony in Kyoto, Japan, where I learned about the intricate rituals and Zen Buddhism's influence.</p> <p>2. Indian Holi Festival: Celebrating Holi, the Festival of Colors, in Mumbai, India, surrounded by vibrant colors, music, and joyful locals.</p> <p>3. Moroccan Hammam: Experiencing a traditional Moroccan bathhouse (hammam) in Marrakech, where I discovered local customs and relaxation techniques.</p> <p><strong>Margaret Mason</strong> - Staying for a couple of days in a small, traditional village in China.</p> <p><em>Image credits: Shutterstock </em></p>

International Travel

Placeholder Content Image

"Ridiculous and disrespectful": Groom goes viral for working on wedding day

<p>A wedding photo has gone viral for the wrong reasons after a groom was pictured working on his own wedding day. </p> <p>Torrey Leonard, the founder of US-based start-up company, Thoughtly, shared a photo of his co-founder, Casey Mackrell, pulling out a laptop at his own wedding to get some work done.</p> <p>“My co-founder Casey has built a reputation for himself as ‘the guy who sits on his laptop in bars’ from SF to NYC,”  he wrote in the post. </p> <p>“Last week Thoughtly brought on a customer that needed to launch within 2 weeks. He just so happened to be getting married within that 2 week window.</p> <p>“So, here he is wrapping up a pull request. At his own wedding. Congrats Casey – now please, go take some time off.”</p> <p>Hundreds of people were quick to comment on the post, labelling it “one of the most depressing LinkedIn posts to exist” and it was even shared to other social media pages. </p> <p>The groom himself eventually had to clarify saying:  “Don’t worry I got back to dancing and champagne 2 seconds later.” </p> <p>But that wasn't enough to appease fellow LinkedIn users. </p> <p>“So your company has such terrible work/life balance that you can’t have a WEDDING without having to work? That’s just sad as hell," one wrote. </p> <p>Another commenter quipped that it was "really sad" the groom didn't call off the wedding to focus on work, saying: “Someone who actually knows how to grind would have called it off the second the contract was signed." </p> <p>A few others questioned the authenticity of the post, saying that it had to be staged as they couldn’t believe that someone would be “that ridiculous and disrespectful to his bride and family”.</p> <p>“Aside from the fact that this is probably staged, pushing people to sacrifice their private life and mental health is not the flex you think it is," another added. </p> <p>In an interview with <em>news.com.au</em> Leonard defended his co-founder's decision and explained the situation. </p> <p>“As a company, what we do is very high-stakes. Every single one of our customers, they depend on us to function perfectly, 24-7, around the clock, no questions asked,”  he told the publication. </p> <p>“We work with many publicly traded companies across the globe, and we spend long hours of the night, early mornings awake, monitoring these calls, proactively fixing issues, fixing problems, building new features.</p> <p>“The context of this post, he had to solve a problem, and it was really only something that he could solve. It was a three- to five-minute task.</p> <p>“We understand that this lifestyle is not for everybody. It’s obviously something that is a lot of work, but it’s something that we love.”</p> <p>He also clarified that Mackrell's bride, Grace, did not have a problem with the brief interruption on their happy day. </p> <p>“They were dating for many years, so she’s seen him pull a laptop out at a restaurant dinner table. I mean, it looks crazy, but that’s just who Casey is. She’s obviously fine with it.”</p> <p><em>Images: LinkedIn</em></p>

Relationships

Placeholder Content Image

Readers response: Have you ever experienced culture shock while travelling? How did you handle it?

<p>When it comes to travelling abroad, it's not uncommon to experience culture shocks as part of your holiday. </p> <p>Travelling to unique corners of the globe can often come with stumbling onto potentially uncomfortable and unusual situations. </p> <p>We asked our readers if they have ever experiences culture shocks and how they handled them, and the response was overwhelming. Here's what they said. </p> <p><span dir="auto"><strong>Alison Mahoney</strong> - Yes, in the mid 60s got fined for kissing my boyfriend in the street in Athens. How things have changed.</span></p> <p><span dir="auto"><strong>Margaret Godfrey</strong> - Yes, First time I went to Vietnam - from Hobart. </span>The heat, the sheer number of people just outside the airport door, being grabbed by stall holders in Ben Thanh Market and pulled into their stalls with "You Buy".</p> <p>Had a good cry later in my hotel, then a cup of tea with another woman on tour. After going to dinner with rest of group, got over myself &amp; thoroughly enjoyed the trip.</p> <p><strong>Val Beale</strong> - Cambodia was a culture shock for me. Lovely people but so much poverty. Felt overwhelmed. So glad I went though.</p> <p><strong>Jim Janush </strong>- Yes, the first time I went to South America, though not the first country there I was visiting. It was in the second country I had trouble accepting how different it was to what I was used to, the strange, backwards manner of simple organisation, almost everything.</p> <p>It grew on me, and after a few days it felt normal, and now it doesn’t feel anywhere near as bad. But the first couple of days were horrific.</p> <p><strong>Bruce Hopkins</strong> - On a USA Holiday, we took a Day Bus Trip from San Diego to Tijuana, what reality check it was seeing the Mexican/USA Border.</p> <p><strong>Judi Tracey</strong> - Definitely when l went into the Grand Bazaar in Turkey. It was full of males, drinking coffee, smoking and googling at women. I never felt so uncomfortable and concerned for my safety if a fire broke out!! I couldn’t leave quick enough.</p> <p><strong>Kristeen Bon</strong> - Bali. Went 25 years ago and hated it…..the heat, the constant harassment, the food, everything.</p> <p>Went back last year thinking maybe things had changed…..nope, still too bloody hot, locals still harassing you, streets, shops and resorts falling apart……..not even a single comfortable chair on one of the island resorts.</p> <p><em>Image credits: Shutterstock </em></p>

Travel Trouble

Placeholder Content Image

Vale ‘sister suffragette’: how Glynis Johns became a pop-culture icon in the story of votes for women

<p><em><a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/ana-stevenson-196768">Ana Stevenson</a>, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/university-of-southern-queensland-1069">University of Southern Queensland</a> and <a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/lindsay-helwig-1500979">Lindsay Helwig</a>, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/university-of-southern-queensland-1069">University of Southern Queensland</a></em></p> <p>Glynis Johns, most famous for her role as the suffragette mother Mrs Winifred Banks in Disney’s Mary Poppins (1964), passed away last week at the age of 100.</p> <p>A fourth-generation performer who made her <a href="https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1991-04-17-ca-126-story.html">stage debut</a> in London when she was only three weeks old, Johns inherited her Welsh father’s love of acting. She appeared with him in The Halfway House (1944) and The Sundowners (1960) and argued for the establishment of a Welsh National Theatre <a href="https://twitter.com/huwthomas/status/791367871242862592">as early as 1971</a>.</p> <p>Johns’s career spanned eight decades in Hollywood, Broadway and the British stage and screen. As Palm Springs’s Desert Sun <a href="https://cdnc.ucr.edu/?a=d&amp;d=DS19630426.2.50">reported</a> in 1962, her “husky voice and big blue eyes” were her hallmarks. But it was her portrayal of Mrs Banks in Mary Poppins which would make her a pop culture icon.</p> <h2>A childhood inspiration</h2> <p>Feminist activists and scholars often describe the Mrs Banks character as a childhood inspiration.</p> <p>As feminist communications scholar Amanda Firestone <a href="https://www.google.com.au/books/edition/Resist_and_Persist/s5HiDwAAQBAJ">reflects</a> on the film: "I especially loved […] Mrs Banks (Glynis Johns), who marches around the family home, putting Votes for Women sashes onto the housekeeper, cook, and the (departing) nanny. Of course, as a kid, I had no idea that the people and events embedded in the song’s lyrics were actual parts of history, but I did find a kind of joy in a vague notion of women’s empowerment."</p> <p>Set in 1910, the symbolism associated with Mrs Banks references the history of the British suffragettes. Johns’ musical showstopper, Sister Suffragette, directly refers to <a href="https://www.thehistorypress.co.uk/articles/the-pankhursts-politics-protest-and-passion/">Emmeline Pankhurst</a>, who founded the militant Women’s Social and Political Union in 1903. In 1906 British newspapers <a href="https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859007003239">coined</a> the moniker “suffragette” to mock the union.</p> <figure><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/K0SDECwO54E?wmode=transparent&amp;start=0" width="440" height="260" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe></figure> <p>This ambivalence continued into the 1960s. Historian Laura E. Nym Mayhall <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/4316653">argues</a> that American concern over the impact of women’s public roles on their domestic responsibilities influenced the film’s depiction of Mrs Banks, especially her movement from a public suffragette back into an involved mother at the film’s end.</p> <p>For Mayhall, the figure of the suffragette emerges in popular culture as “a symbol of modernity”: a harbinger of democracy and political progress whose characterisation would elide ongoing struggles such as the civil rights movement.</p> <figure class="align-right zoomable"><a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/568335/original/file-20240108-23-tf6kwm.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=1000&amp;fit=clip"><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/568335/original/file-20240108-23-tf6kwm.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=237&amp;fit=clip" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/568335/original/file-20240108-23-tf6kwm.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=949&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/568335/original/file-20240108-23-tf6kwm.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=30&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=949&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/568335/original/file-20240108-23-tf6kwm.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=15&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=949&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/568335/original/file-20240108-23-tf6kwm.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=1193&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/568335/original/file-20240108-23-tf6kwm.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=30&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=1193&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/568335/original/file-20240108-23-tf6kwm.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=15&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=1193&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=3 2262w" alt="" /></a><figcaption><span class="caption">This 1909 Dunston Weiler Lithograph Co. anti-suffrage postcard offers resonances of Mrs Banks and her household staff in Mary Poppins.</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://thesuffragepostcardproject.omeka.net/items/show/44">Catherine H. Palczewski Postcard Archive/The Suffrage Postcard Project</a></span></figcaption></figure> <p>While some see the character of the suffragette mother as <a href="https://www.google.com.au/books/edition/Mary_Poppins/BLujEAAAQBAJ">supporting</a> women’s votes during the 1910s and women’s liberation during the 1960s, other readings of the film suggest a more satirical representation of the suffrage movement. Some historians even find <a href="https://doi.org/10.1215/02705346-6923118">resonances</a> of anti-suffrage propaganda in Mrs Banks, including in her usage of her Votes for Women sash as the tail of a kite in the film’s final scene.</p> <p>Looking back at film reviews offers insight into how audiences received this character – and, by extension, Johns as an actor. American studies scholar Lori Kenschaft <a href="https://books.google.com.au/books/about/Girls_Boys_Books_Toys.html?id=Or13vhnA_W4C">suggests</a> that film critics who saw Mrs Banks as a “nutty suffragette mother” reiterated popular stereotypes about suffragettes and feminists being “mentally unbalanced”.</p> <p>Such stereotypes may have been reinforced by the film’s depiction of motherhood and the nuclear family. Involved parenting emerged as the bedrock of the 1960s nuclear family, an idea both supported and actively promoted by Walt Disney in both his films and his theme parks, as <a href="https://www.google.com.au/books/edition/Children_Childhood_and_Musical_Theater/XHrRDwAAQBAJ">argued</a> by American musicologist William A. Everett.</p> <p>As Mrs Banks, Johns embodied the transition from the distant, uninvolved parenting of the British middle-class in the earlier 20th century to the involved mother who facilitated the stable nuclear family. As women’s studies scholar Anne McLeer <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/4316893">argues</a>, Mary Poppins, through Johns’ portrayal of Mrs Banks, demonstrated the liberated woman of the 1960s could be contained within the nuclear family: the bedrock for a Western capitalist economy.</p> <h2>A long career</h2> <p>Beyond Mary Poppins, her most prominent role was in Stephen Sondheim’s Broadway musical A Little Night Music (1973).</p> <p>Johns originated the character of ageing actress Desiree Armfeldt, becoming the first to sing Send in the Clowns. As she <a href="https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1991-04-17-ca-126-story.html">reflected</a> of the classic in 1991: "It’s still part of me. And when you’ve got a song like Send in the Clowns, it’s timeless."</p> <p>Sondheim composed this song with Johns’s famously husky voice in mind. Yet some were less enamoured with her performance. One 1973 theatre critic <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/3850619">described</a> Johns as “a now somewhat overage tomboy, kittenish and raspy-voiced, precise and amusing in her delivery of lines but utterly, utterly unseductive.”</p> <figure><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/OAl-EawVobY?wmode=transparent&amp;start=0" width="440" height="260" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe></figure> <p>A veteran of stage and screen, Johns appeared in more than 60 films and 30 plays. In 1998, she was honoured with a Disney Legends Award for her role as Mrs Banks. Johns also received critical acclaim throughout her career, including a Laurel Award for Mary Poppins and a Tony Award and Drama Desk Award for A Little Night Music.</p> <p>Regardless of how incongruous her status as a “<a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2024-01-05/glynis-johns-mary-poppins-send-in-the-clowns/103287036">Disney feminist icon</a>” may be, Johns’s extraordinary influence upon the 20th century’s cultural memory is a remarkable legacy. <!-- Below is The Conversation's page counter tag. Please DO NOT REMOVE. --><img style="border: none !important; box-shadow: none !important; margin: 0 !important; max-height: 1px !important; max-width: 1px !important; min-height: 1px !important; min-width: 1px !important; opacity: 0 !important; outline: none !important; padding: 0 !important;" src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/220766/count.gif?distributor=republish-lightbox-basic" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" /><!-- End of code. If you don't see any code above, please get new code from the Advanced tab after you click the republish button. The page counter does not collect any personal data. More info: https://theconversation.com/republishing-guidelines --></p> <p><a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/ana-stevenson-196768"><em>Ana Stevenson</em></a><em>, Senior Lecturer, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/university-of-southern-queensland-1069">University of Southern Queensland</a> and <a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/lindsay-helwig-1500979">Lindsay Helwig</a>, Lecturer in Pathways, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/university-of-southern-queensland-1069">University of Southern Queensland</a></em></p> <p><em>Image credits: Disney</em></p> <p><em>This article is republished from <a href="https://theconversation.com">The Conversation</a> under a Creative Commons license. Read the <a href="https://theconversation.com/vale-sister-suffragette-how-glynis-johns-became-a-pop-culture-icon-in-the-story-of-votes-for-women-220766">original article</a>.</em></p>

Caring

Placeholder Content Image

2001: A Space Odyssey still leaves an indelible mark on our culture 55 years on

<p><em><a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/nathan-abrams-122305">Nathan Abrams</a>, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/bangor-university-1221">Bangor University</a></em></p> <p>2001: A Space Odyssey is a landmark film in the history of cinema. It is a work of extraordinary imagination that has transcended film history to become something of a cultural marker. And since 1968, it has penetrated the psyche of not only other filmmakers but society in general.</p> <p>It is not an exaggeration to say that 2001 single-handedly reinvented the science fiction genre. The visuals, music and themes of 2001 left an inedible mark on subsequent science fiction that is still evident today.</p> <p>When <a href="https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Kubrick/Robert-P-Kolker/9781639366248">Stanley Kubrick</a> began work on 2001 in the mid-1960s, he was told by studio executive Lew Wasserman: “Kid, you don’t spend over a million dollars on science fiction movies. You just don’t do that.”</p> <p>By that point, the golden age of science fiction film had run its course. During its heyday, there was a considerable variety of content within the overarching genre. There had been serious attempts to foretell space travel. Destination Moon, directed by Irving Pichel and produced by George Pal in 1950, and, in mid-century, Byron Haskin’s Conquest of Space both fantasised space travel and, in Haskin’s film, a space station, which Kubrick would elaborate on in 2001.</p> <figure><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/oR_e9y-bka0?wmode=transparent&amp;start=0" width="440" height="260" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe><figcaption><span class="caption">The trailer for 2001: A Space Odyssey.</span></figcaption></figure> <p>Most 1950s science fiction films, though, were cheap B-movie fare and looked it. They involved alien invasions with an ideological and allegorical subtext. They were cultural, cinematic imaginations of the danger of communism, which in the overheated political atmosphere of the time was seen as an imminent threat to the American way of life.</p> <p>The aliens in most science fiction films were out simply to destroy or take over humanity; they were expressions, to use the title of a Susan Sontag essay, of “<a href="https://americanfuturesiup.files.wordpress.com/2013/01/sontag-the-imagination-of-disaster.pdf">the imagination of disaster</a>”. There were some exceptions, including Byron Haskin’s film version of The War of the Worlds and Robert Wise’s The Day the Earth Stood Still.</p> <p>By 1968, then, as the lights went down, very few people knew what was about to transpire and they certainly were not prepared for what did. The film opened in near darkness as the strains of Thus Spake Zarathustra by Richard Strauss were heard. The cinema was dazzled into light, as if Kubrick had <a href="https://www.rutgersuniversitypress.org/stanley-kubrick/9780813587110">remade Genesis</a>.</p> <p>The subsequent 160 or so minutes (the length of his original cut before he edited 19 minutes out of it) took the viewer on what was marketed as “the ultimate trip”. Kubrick had excised almost every element of explanation leaving an elusive, ambiguous and thoroughly unclear film. His decisions contributed to long silent scenes, offered without elucidation. It contributed to the film’s almost immediate critical failure but its ultimate success. It was practically a silent movie.</p> <p>2001 was an experiment in film form and content. It exploded the conventional narrative form, restructuring the conventions of the three-act drama. The narrative was linear, but radically, spanning aeons and ending in a timeless realm, all without a conventional movie score. Kubrick used 19th-century and modernist music, such as Strauss, György Ligeti and Aram Khachaturian.</p> <h2>Vietnam</h2> <p>The movie was made during a tumultuous period of American history, which it seemingly ignored. The war in Vietnam was already a highly divisive issue and was spiralling into a crisis. The <a href="https://www.britannica.com/topic/Tet-Offensive">Tet offensive</a>, which began on January 31 1968, had claimed tens of thousands of lives. As US involvement in Vietnam escalated, domestic unrest and violence at home intensified.</p> <p>Increasingly, young Americans expected their artists to address the chaos that roared around them. But in exploring the origins of humanity’s propensity for violence and its future destiny, 2001 dealt with the big questions and ones that were burning at the time of its release. They fuelled what Variety magazine called the “coffee cup debate” over “what the film means”, which is still ongoing today.</p> <p>The design of the film has touched many other films. Silent Running by Douglas Trumbull (who worked on 2001’s special effects) owes the most obvious debt but Star Wars would be also unthinkable without it. Popular culture is full of imagery from the film. The <a href="https://faroutmagazine.co.uk/stanley-kubrick-2001-a-space-odyssey-music/">music</a> Kubrick used in the film, especially Strauss’s The Blue Danube, is now considered <a href="https://theweek.com/articles/702734/planetarium-brief-history-space-music">“space music”</a>.</p> <p>Images from the movie have appeared <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kfK9pEQZyy0">in iPhone adverts</a>, in The Simpsons and even the trailer for the new <a href="https://metro.co.uk/2022/12/16/trailer-for-greta-gerwigs-barbie-spoofs-classic-film-in-best-way-17951854/">Barbie movie</a>.</p> <figure><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/8zIf0XvoL9Y?wmode=transparent&amp;start=0" width="440" height="260" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe><figcaption><span class="caption">2001: A Space Odyssey’s influence on this Barbie movie trailer couldn’t be more obvious.</span></figcaption></figure> <p>The warnings of the danger of technology embodied in the film’s murderous supercomputer HAL-9000 can be felt in the “tech noir” films of the late 1970s and 1980s, such as Westworld, <a href="https://theconversation.com/how-alien-mutated-from-a-sci-fi-horror-film-into-a-multimedia-universe-204567">Alien</a>, Blade Runner and Terminator.</p> <p>HAL’s single red eye can be seen in the children’s series, Q Pootle 5, and Pixar’s animated feature, Wall-E. HAL has become shorthand for the untrammelled march of artificial intelligence (AI).</p> <p>In the age of ChatGPT and other AI, the metaphor of Kubrick’s computer is <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2023/02/22/movies/ai-movies-microsoft-bing-robots.html">frequently evoked</a>. But why when there have been so many other images such as Frankenstein, Prometheus, terminators and other murderous cyborgs? Because there is something so uncanny and human about HAL who was deliberately designed to be more <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/01439685.2017.1342328?journalCode=chjf20">empathic and human than the people in the film</a>.</p> <p>In making 2001, Stanley Kubrick created a cultural phenomenon that continues to speak to us eloquently today.<!-- Below is The Conversation's page counter tag. Please DO NOT REMOVE. --><img style="border: none !important; box-shadow: none !important; margin: 0 !important; max-height: 1px !important; max-width: 1px !important; min-height: 1px !important; min-width: 1px !important; opacity: 0 !important; outline: none !important; padding: 0 !important;" src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/209152/count.gif?distributor=republish-lightbox-basic" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" /><!-- End of code. If you don't see any code above, please get new code from the Advanced tab after you click the republish button. The page counter does not collect any personal data. More info: https://theconversation.com/republishing-guidelines --></p> <p><em><a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/nathan-abrams-122305">Nathan Abrams</a>, Professor of Film Studies, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/bangor-university-1221">Bangor University</a></em></p> <p><em>Image credits: Getty Images</em></p> <p><em>This article is republished from <a href="https://theconversation.com">The Conversation</a> under a Creative Commons license. Read the <a href="https://theconversation.com/2001-a-space-odyssey-still-leaves-an-indelible-mark-on-our-culture-55-years-on-209152">original article</a>.</em></p>

Movies

Placeholder Content Image

Everything A-OK? New history shows the way to Sesame Street wasn’t always easy outside US

<p><span style="font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, 'Segoe UI', Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;">Associate Professor Helle Strandgaard Jensen based at Denmark’s Aarhus University, says while </span><em style="font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, 'Segoe UI', Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;">Sesame Street</em><span style="font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, 'Segoe UI', Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;"> producers presented their content as both diverse and universal, the underpinning US values and assumptions about children often led to cultural clashes in other countries.</span></p> <div class="copy"> <p>With children’s culture again at the centre of debates about <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/2023/feb/26/censorship-or-context-australian-book-industry-wrestles-with-how-to-refresh-outdated-classics" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">banning or re-writing books</a> and what makes for <a href="https://www.news.com.au/national/politics/abc-accused-of-grooming-kids-after-drag-queen-appeared-on-play-school/news-story/efc1dd82aa4fb6b01a4c575e2f40e589" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">appropriate children’s television</a>, Jensen says a historical approach can provide the opportunity for more informed discussions.</p> <p><em>Sesame Street</em> debuted on television in the US in 1969 (it came to Australia in 1971) and according to its US website: “…has made a positive impact in children’s lives ever since.”</p> <p>The show says: “<em>Sesame Street</em> brings critical early education to children in 150+ countries”. </p> <p>While <em>Sesame Street’s</em> universality was marketed to international audiences, Jensen says the show is shaped by US assumptions about children’s role in society, cognitive psychology and the role of media in education.</p> <p>In European countries like the UK, Germany and Scandinavia there was a more progressive view about children, she says.</p> <p>As a result, the program was sometimes met with hostility by foreign television producers and broadcasters.</p> <p>In Jensen’s home of Denmark, Danish broadcasters rejected the show outright. Instead adapting their own children’s program <em>Legestue </em>to <a href="https://www.shcy.org/features/commentaries/helle-strandgaard-jensen-on-kermits-chubby-danish-cousin/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">incorporate a frog</a> named Kaj inspired by Kermit, but one that “loves jazz and talks back to adult authority”, she says.</p> <p>In Germany, where <a href="https://muppet.fandom.com/wiki/Sesamstrasse" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">‘Sesamestraße’</a> is celebrating its 50<sup>th</sup> anniversary, local co-producers made their own content spliced together with US content, and added their own puppets including a piglet Purk, a snail Finchen and Leniemienie the mouse.</p> <p>German produced content portrays the child at the centre, encouraging them to question authority, and often revealing the hypocrisy or flaws of adults, Jensen says. It was an approach that sometimes resulted in pushback from the US based Childrens Television Workshop, she says.</p> <p>For instance, in one local clip, an adult is attending to some flowers in their garden, mowing an area of grass containing different flowers. The children ask, ‘which flowers are the good flowers?’</p> <p>In another, a woman walks past a child having to do an emergency wee in public. ‘That’s disgusting!’ the woman says. But as she walks further, her dog relieves itself on the pavement, and the woman doesn’t pick it up the waste.</p> <p>German Ministry of Education guides to accompany the show rejected traditional gender roles, taught children about the body and emphasised society based on collaboration, including unions.</p> <figure class="wp-block-embed is-type-rich is-provider-twitter wp-block-embed-twitter"> <div class="wp-block-embed__wrapper"> <div class="embed-wrapper"> <div class="inner"> <div class="twitter-tweet twitter-tweet-rendered" style="display: flex; max-width: 500px; width: 100%; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;" data-spai-bg-prepared="1"><iframe id="twitter-widget-0" class="" style="display: block; position: static; visibility: visible; width: 400px; height: 656px; flex-grow: 1;" title="Twitter Tweet" src="https://platform.twitter.com/embed/Tweet.html?creatorScreenName=cosmosmagazine&amp;dnt=true&amp;embedId=twitter-widget-0&amp;features=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%3D%3D&amp;frame=false&amp;hideCard=false&amp;hideThread=false&amp;id=1612139711304273922&amp;lang=en&amp;origin=https%3A%2F%2Fcosmosmagazine.com%2Fpeople%2Fhistory-sesame-street%2F&amp;sessionId=6d9a2d118b670e8e312cee283ceca4c065b3acf7&amp;siteScreenName=cosmosmagazine&amp;theme=light&amp;widgetsVersion=aaf4084522e3a%3A1674595607486&amp;width=500px" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" data-spai-bg-prepared="1" data-tweet-id="1612139711304273922"></iframe></div> </div> </div> </div> </figure> <p>In Europe, children’s television was seen as offering something separate to school, a way to empower children and support their own understanding of the world. The European view was more based in sociology and journalism – asking children directly about what they wanted – rather than cognitive psychology, Jensen says.</p> <p>For example in the UK, television producers would survey children about what they were interested in, their views, and make content based on that. </p> <p>Another key difference was the highly commercial landscape of television in the US, Jensen says. This was different to Europe and places like Australia where public broadcasters could afford to produce content for children that was more experimental.</p> <p>She says reflecting on the past is important as children’s viewing is increasingly dominated by streaming platforms, many of which are based in the US and dominated by American programming. </p> <p>The ABC began broadcasting <em>Sesame Street</em> twice-daily in 1971.</p> <p>While Jensen’s book doesn’t specifically address the response to the show in Australia, she says a lot of her archival research included information shared between the public broadcasters the ABC and BBC, which had a strong co-production tradition. </p> <p>“One of the ways the BBC learned about what happened in the Children’s Television Workshop and making <em>Sesame Street</em> was via their Australian friends in the ABC,” she says. </p> <p>Jensen says as early as 1970 an Australian journalist at <em>The Bulletin </em>was questioning whether the show imposed American culture on children in other countries.</p> <p>In the article, ‘Entertaining Australians to be Americans’, <em>Sesame Street</em> founder Joan Ganz Cooney says she had few reservations about imposing US culture on Australian audiences. “For good or ill the whole world is being Americanised,” she says. </p> <p>Children’s Television Workshop describes the sale of <em>Sesame Street</em> to 26 foreign countries, including Australia, as an opportunity to study the universality of the program, according to <em>The Bulletin</em>. </p> <p><em>Sesame Street: A Transnational History </em>is set for <a href="https://academic.oup.com/book/45872/chapter-abstract/400828941?redirectedFrom=fulltext" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">release in Australia in May</a>.</p> <figure class="wp-block-embed is-type-video is-provider-youtube wp-block-embed-youtube wp-embed-aspect-4-3 wp-has-aspect-ratio"> <div class="wp-block-embed__wrapper"> <div class="embed-wrapper"> <div class="inner"><iframe title="SESAMSTRASSE Folge 1 (Teil 1)" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/6-sJKRPuaiM?feature=oembed" width="500" height="375" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe></div> </div> </div> </figure> <p> <img id="cosmos-post-tracker" style="opacity: 0; height: 1px!important; width: 1px!important; border: 0!important; position: absolute!important; z-index: -1!important;" src="https://syndication.cosmosmagazine.com/?id=245054&amp;title=Everything+A-OK%3F+New+history+shows+the+way+to+Sesame+Street+wasn%26%238217%3Bt+always+easy+outside+US" width="1" height="1" data-spai-target="src" data-spai-orig="" data-spai-exclude="nocdn" /></p> <div class="in-content-area more-on"> </div> </div> <div id="contributors"> <p><a href="https://cosmosmagazine.com/people/history-sesame-street/">This article</a> was originally published on <a href="https://cosmosmagazine.com">Cosmos Magazine</a> and was written by <a href="https://cosmosmagazine.com/contributor/petra-stock">Petra Stock</a>. Petra Stock has a degree in environmental engineering and a Masters in Journalism from University of Melbourne. She has previously worked as a climate and energy analyst.</p> </div>

TV

Placeholder Content Image

Female artists earn less than men. Coming from a diverse cultural background incurs even more of a penalty – but there is good news, too

<p>Artists all over the world, regardless of their gender, earn <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/handbook/handbook-of-the-economics-of-art-and-culture">considerably less</a> than professionals in occupations requiring similar levels of education and qualifications. </p> <p>But there’s an additional income penalty for artists who are female. </p> <p>In an analysis of gender differences in the incomes of professional artists in Australia that <a href="https://australiacouncil.gov.au/advocacy-and-research/the-gender-pay-gap-among-australian-artists/">we undertook in 2020</a>, we found the creative incomes of women were 30% less than those of men. </p> <p>This is true even after allowing for differences in such things as hours worked, education and training, time spent in childcare and so on. This income penalty on women artists was greater than the gender pay gap of 16% experienced in the overall Australian workforce at the time.</p> <p><a href="https://theconversation.com/screen-australia-celebrates-its-work-in-gender-equality-but-things-are-far-from-equal-122266">Some sectors</a> of the arts have tried to redress this problem. However, women continue to suffer serious and unexplained gender-based discrimination in the artistic workplace.</p> <p>Cultural differences are <a href="https://www.nber.org/papers/w27725">also known</a> to influence pay gaps in many countries. </p> <p>In new research <a href="https://australiacouncil.gov.au/advocacy-and-research/culture-and-the-gender-pay-gap-for-australian-artists">out today</a>, we considered whether cultural factors might also affect the gender pay gap of artists in Australia. In addition, we analysed the gender pay gap for remote Indigenous artists for the first time.</p> <h2>A larger gap for women from a non-English speaking background</h2> <p>In our <a href="https://australiacouncil.gov.au/advocacy-and-research/making-art-work/">2016 survey of 826 professional artists</a> working in metropolitan, regional and rural Australia, we asked participants if they came from a non-English speaking background. </p> <p>Only a relatively small proportion of artists – 10% – came from a non-English-speaking background, compared to 18% for the Australian labour force as a whole. </p> <p>A non-English-speaking background appears to carry an income penalty only for women artists, not for men. </p> <p>We found the annual creative earnings of female artists from a non-English-speaking background are about 71% of the creative incomes of female artists whose first language is English. But there is little difference between the corresponding incomes of male artists.</p> <p>Within the group of artists from language backgrounds other than English, the annual creative earnings of female artists are about half (53%) those of their male counterparts. </p> <p>By contrast, the ratio of female to male creative earnings among English-speaking background artists is 73%. </p> <p>These results suggest that women artists from a non-English-speaking background suffer a triple earnings penalty – from being an artist (and hence as a group earning less than comparable professionals), from their gender, and from their cultural background.</p> <p>Despite this earnings disadvantage, 63% of artists who identified as having a first language other than English thought their background had a positive impact on their artistic practice. Only 16% thought it had a negative impact.</p> <p>When artists were asked whether being from a non-English speaking background was a restricting factor in their professional artistic development, 17% of women answered “yes”, compared to only 5% of men from a similar background. </p> <p>Nevertheless, like their male colleagues, these women artists continue to celebrate their cultural background in their art. They contribute to the increasingly multicultural content of the arts in Australia, holding up a mirror to trends in Australian society at large.</p> <h2>No gender gap in remote Indigenous communities</h2> <p>For First Nations artists working in remote communities, a different picture emerges. </p> <p>For this research, we used results for remote communities in three regions of northern Australia drawn from our <a href="https://apo.org.au/node/257301">National Survey of Remote Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Artists</a>.</p> <p>The gender gap is not replicated among remotely practising First Nations artists. </p> <p>There are some minor variations in this finding for subgroups in different regions, depending in part on differences in the mix of visual and performing artists in the population. But whatever other differentials may exist between female and male earnings, they do not appear to be attributable to the sorts of systemic gender-based discrimination that affects the residual gender gap for other Australian artists.</p> <p>A possible reason relates to fundamental differences between the cultural norms, values and inherited traditions that apply in remote and very remote First Nations communities. </p> <p>Gender roles in Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities have been <a href="https://anthrosource.onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1525/can.1992.7.2.02a00020">described</a> by researchers as distinctively different, rather than superior or inferior. The importance of both women and men as bearers of culture has been clearly articulated. </p> <p>The unique cultural content of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander music, dance, visual art and literature is an essential feature of the work of these artists. These characteristics pass through to the marketplace, and there does not appear to be any obvious gender gap in the way the art from these remote communities is received. </p> <p>There is always differentiation between the art produced in different remote regions of Australia which varies depending on the complexities of different inherited cultural traditions. But there is no indication of any gender-based discrimination associated with these regional differences.</p> <p><em>Image credits: Getty Images</em></p> <p><em>This article originally appeared on <a href="https://theconversation.com/female-artists-earn-less-than-men-coming-from-a-diverse-cultural-background-incurs-even-more-of-a-penalty-but-there-is-good-news-too-195646" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The Conversation</a>. </em></p>

Art

Placeholder Content Image

When it comes to music, not all cultures share the same emotional associations

<div class="copy"> <p>Most of us have deep emotional reactions to <a href="https://cosmosmagazine.com/science/physics/recent-musical-research-of-note/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener" data-type="URL" data-id="https://cosmosmagazine.com/science/physics/recent-musical-research-of-note/">music</a>, which is <a href="https://cosmosmagazine.com/people/culture/music-really-is-a-universal-language/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener" data-type="URL" data-id="https://cosmosmagazine.com/people/culture/music-really-is-a-universal-language/">a central part of human cultures</a> around the world. But our ideas about what makes music sound happy or sad are not universal, suggests <a href="https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0269597" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">new research</a> published today in <em>PLoS One</em>.</p> <p>The Australian-led study mainly focused on differences in people’s emotional perceptions of music in major and minor keys. In Western cultures, music in a major key is almost universally perceived as happy, and music in a minor key as sad. Transposing a melody from major to minor seems to instantly introduce a mournful or ominous feel, as demonstrated by this rendition of the “Happy birthday” song.</p> <figure class="wp-block-embed is-type-video is-provider-youtube wp-block-embed-youtube wp-embed-aspect-16-9 wp-has-aspect-ratio"> <div class="wp-block-embed__wrapper"> <div class="entry-content-asset"> <div class="embed-wrapper"> <div class="inner"><iframe title="Happy Birthday in C Minor" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ipyVmkcUXPM?feature=oembed" width="500" height="281" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe></div> </div> </div> </div> </figure> <p>However, the study found that these emotional associations were not shared by some remote communities in Papua New Guinea (PNG) who had little exposure to Western music.</p> <p>“The most important finding of the study is that the degree of familiarity with major and minor music plays a large role in people attributing happiness to major and sadness to minor,” says Eline Smit, who led the study as part of her PhD at Western Sydney University.</p> <p>For the new study, Smit and her colleagues investigated emotional associations of major and minor keys in people living in Sydney and in several villages in Uruwa River Valley in PNG. The valley is only accessible via small plane or multi-day hike, and the villages have similar musical traditions but varying levels of exposure to Western-style music.</p> <p>The researchers played various recordings pairing one major and one minor melody or cadence (a series of chords) to the participants, who were asked to indicate which tune made them feel happy. </p> <div style="position: relative; display: block; max-width: 100%;"> <div style="padding-top: 56.25%;"><iframe style="position: absolute; top: 0px; right: 0px; bottom: 0px; left: 0px; width: 100%; height: 100%;" src="https://players.brightcove.net/5483960636001/HJH3i8Guf_default/index.html?videoId=6308675222112" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe></div> </div> <p class="caption">An example of a recording played to research participants in the study. The musical samples are preceded by the word “ingguk” (one) or “yoi” (two). In this example, the first music sample is in a major key and the second in a minor key. <a href="https://osf.io/c3e9y/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener" data-type="URL" data-id="https://osf.io/c3e9y/">Media courtesy Eline Smit</a>.</p> <p>“Western listeners and the PNG groups exposed to Western music were more likely to say the major cadence or melody was the happy one,” Smit explains. That is, these groups were likely to say that the first melody in the example above sounded happy.</p> <p>“However, the PNG group with minimal exposure to Western music showed no preference for choosing major as the happy cadence or melody,” Smit continues. “They were just as likely to choose the minor version.”</p> <div style="position: relative; display: block; max-width: 100%;"> <div style="padding-top: 56.25%;"><iframe style="position: absolute; top: 0px; right: 0px; bottom: 0px; left: 0px; width: 100%; height: 100%;" src="https://players.brightcove.net/5483960636001/HJH3i8Guf_default/index.html?videoId=6308677000112" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe></div> </div> <p class="caption">Another example of a recording from the study. In this example, the first music sample is in a minor key and the second in a major key. <a href="https://osf.io/c3e9y/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener" data-type="URL" data-id="https://osf.io/c3e9y/">Media courtesy Eline Smit</a>.</p> <p>Smit, who is also a trained classical pianist, became interested in <a href="https://cosmosmagazine.com/people/social-sciences/musical-instruments-can-mimic-speech/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener" data-type="URL" data-id="https://cosmosmagazine.com/people/social-sciences/musical-instruments-can-mimic-speech/">the relationship between music and emotions</a> during her PhD. Her research focuses on people’s emotional responses to unfamiliar musical systems.</p> <p>“This study has shown some more insight into the role of the degree of familiarity on having particular emotional responses to music, but this does not mean that there are not any universal responses,” she says. “For the future, it would be interesting to further disentangle the impact of prior exposure and familiarity on responses to music.”</p> <p><em>Image credits: Getty Images </em></p> <p><em><!-- Start of tracking content syndication. Please do not remove this section as it allows us to keep track of republished articles --> <img id="cosmos-post-tracker" style="opacity: 0; height: 1px!important; width: 1px!important; border: 0!important; position: absolute!important; z-index: -1!important;" src="https://syndication.cosmosmagazine.com/?id=196349&amp;title=When+it+comes+to+music%2C+not+all+cultures+share+the+same+emotional+associations" width="1" height="1" data-spai-target="src" data-spai-orig="" data-spai-exclude="nocdn" /> <!-- End of tracking content syndication --></em></div> <div id="contributors"> <p><em>This article was originally published on <a href="https://cosmosmagazine.com/people/emotional-reactions-to-music-cultural/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">cosmosmagazine.com</a> and was written by Matilda Handsley-Davis.</em> </p> </div>

Music

Placeholder Content Image

10 of the world’s strangest food museums

<p> </p> <p><strong>Le Musée Art du Chocolat de Lisle sur Tarn, Lisle-sur-Tarn, France</strong></p> <p>A weird and wonderful tribute to the sweet stuff, the Le Musée Art du Chocolat de Lisle sur Tarn is dedicated to the world of chocolate art. Chocolate elephants? Check. Chocolate candle holders? Check. There’s even a chocolate fountain – and by that, we mean one made entirely from chocolate. The sculptures, some of which weigh around 100 kilograms, are displayed in three halls. Must-sees include the life-sized chocolate woman and the huge white chocolate of the main character of the comic series The Adventures of Tintin. We’re getting a sugar rush just thinking about it.</p> <p><strong>Dutch Cheese Museum, Alkmaar, Netherlands</strong></p> <p>Thought tulips were the Netherlands’ biggest export? Think again, it’s cheese, more specifically, Edam and Gouda. Learn more at this brilliant Dutch Cheese Museum, which explores the history of the cheeses and how they’re made. It’s tucked inside one of Alkmaar’s oldest buildings, the 16th century Cheese Weigh House in Waagplein Square. Our favourite bit? The bright yellow, cheese-inspired decor and the super-sized model cow, designed to provide visitors with an insight into the milking process.</p> <p><strong>Cup Noodle Museum, Yokohama, Japan</strong></p> <p>Amazingly, the Cup Noodle Museum is one of several museums in Japan dedicated to instant noodles, otherwise known as ramen. The sheer size of this museum is a reminder of the nation’s love of the foodstuff – there are several enormous halls, including one containing a replica of the shed in which the first type of ramen was invented (it was chicken-based if you were wondering). There’s plenty for younger visitors, who can whiz down slides in a noodle-themed playground and swim through a ball pool resembling a cup of ramen soup. Don’t forget to check the noodle-themed marble run, either, it features 4,000 marbles and represents the various stages of ramen production.</p> <p><strong>Friet Museum, Bruges, Belgium</strong></p> <p>The Friet Museum is, perhaps unsurprisingly, the world’s only museum dedicated to what is widely known as French fries, but which are known as Belgian friet in this part of the world. Visit this Bruges attraction and you’ll learn all about the humble potato (first grown in Peru 10,000 years ago) and can admire various friet-related masterpieces, including drawings of the city’s famous Frituur chip stalls. The strangest exhibit? The enormous – but weirdly beautiful – display of friet fryers.</p> <p><strong>Carpigiani Gelato Museum, Carpigiani, Italy</strong></p> <p>The Italians are serious about how they make their ice cream, proof of which is the Carpigiani Gelato Museum in Bologna. You’ll find it inside what was once a factory owned by Carpigiani, the manufacturer of the world’s first ice cream-making machine. Exhibits include the ornate tin-plated boxes used by Italy’s first gelato sellers, along with a huge selection of gelato-related gadgets. There’s also a large workshop where you can sign up for lessons in gelatology, possibly the world’s coolest subject.</p> <p><strong>The Herring Era Museum, Siglufjörður, Iceland</strong></p> <p>Herrings might not sound like a very exciting item of food, but visitors to The Herring Era Museum will certainly leave with a new appreciation of the small, oily fish. The museum, inside a former salting station, looks at how, in the 20th century, the herring industry transformed this tiny village into a thriving town, with 23 herring salting stations and five herring processing plants. Sadly, over-exploitation of stocks meant the industry ground to a halt, but the tiny museum is a reminder of a period of time referred to by locals as the Atlantic <em>Klondike</em>.</p> <p><strong>Pizza Hut Museum, Kansas, USA</strong></p> <p>The Pizza Hut Museum opened in Wichita, Kansas in 2017, on the very same site of the first Pizza Hut restaurant. It’s packed full of pizza-related memorabilia, including the first Pizza Hut pizza pan used in 1958, when the restaurant opened. Other rare items include Pizza Hut Barbie dolls, menus, staff lists from the 1950s, and signage from the first restaurant. You’ll also be able to admire the original recipe for the brand’s famous sauce, scrawled on a napkin by the employee who perfected it.</p> <p><strong>Poli Grappa Museum, Bassano del Grappa, Italy</strong></p> <p>It’s probably a good idea to leave the car at home before a visit to the Poli Grappa Museum because samples of Italy’s famous liquor certainly aren’t in short supply. The museum is small but well laid out, with three rooms filled with exhibits relating to the famous Italian grape-based brandy. One notable highlight is the beautiful collection of antique stills, although many visitors make a beeline for the third room in order to sample some of the varieties produced by the nearby Poli Distillery.</p> <p><strong>The Idaho Potato Museum, Idaho, USA</strong></p> <p>America’s favourite tuber is the star of the show at The Idaho Potato Museum, which is home to both the world’s largest potato and the world’s largest potato chip, along with a wealth of potato-related facts. There are entire sections dedicated to tools used to harvest potatoes in the early 1900s, along with the world’s largest collection of mashers. And don’t forget to visit the café, where you can indulge in a chocolate-dipped potato.</p> <p><strong>The Spam Museum, Minnesota, USA</strong></p> <p>Learn about the world’s most divisive processed meat with a visit to The Spam Museum, a huge attraction examining the food’s rise to global domination. Not convinced? Check out the exhibit relating to its role in WWII, when Spam became a staple for servicemen and women. Then there’s the display of 15 varieties of Spam sold around the world. There are plenty of opportunities for taste tests, just look for one of the museum’s guides known as Spambassadors.</p> <p><em><span id="docs-internal-guid-665b11ed-7fff-7b7e-ab71-5c7bc9f7bd68">Written by Tamara Hinson. This article first appeared in <a href="https://www.readersdigest.com.au/culture/10-of-the-worlds-strangest-food-museums" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Reader’s Digest</a>. For more of what you love from the world’s best-loved magazine, <a href="http://readersdigest.innovations.com.au/c/readersdigestemailsubscribe?utm_source=over60&amp;utm_medium=articles&amp;utm_campaign=RDSUB&amp;keycode=WRA87V" target="_blank" rel="noopener">here’s our best subscription offer.</a></span></em></p> <p><em>Image: Courtesy </em><em>Friet Museum</em></p>

International Travel

Placeholder Content Image

Democracy spreads in waves – but shared cultural history might matter more than geography

<p>Recent events like the war in Ukraine, conflicts over Taiwan and the rise of authoritarian ideology have renewed interest in the foundations of modern democracy.</p> <p>They have raised questions about why some nations are more democratic than others, and how democratic institutions, freedoms and values are spread or lost.</p> <p>We tend to think of this variation in terms of geography – democratic Western Europe or autocratic Middle East.</p> <p>But in a <a href="https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/evolutionary-human-sciences/article/shared-cultural-ancestry-predicts-the-global-diffusion-of-democracy/90C7A170B924FC305DD66FF8853799FC" target="_blank" rel="noopener">new analysis of 220 years of political data</a>, we show that deep cultural connections between countries such as shared linguistic or religious ancestry matter more than geography.</p> <h2>Waves of democratisation</h2> <p>The emergence of modern democracy coincides with the rise of nation states in Europe at the beginning of the 19th century. Democracy spread across European nations and their colonies, over <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Third_Wave:_Democratization_in_the_Late_Twentieth_Century" target="_blank" rel="noopener">three waves</a>.</p> <p>The first wave lasted about a century, from 1828 to 1926, halting after the first world war. A second, rapid wave (1945-1962) followed the second world war and decolonisation.</p> <p>The third wave began in 1974 and continues today. It encompassed political transitions and new countries in Europe, Latin America and the Pacific.</p> <p>Each wave was followed by a period of reversals when nations turned to autocratic regimes, junta or fascism. Indeed, some researchers speculate we are heading into <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/13510347.2019.1582029" target="_blank" rel="noopener">another period of reversal</a>.</p> <h2>What drives modern democracy?</h2> <p>Scholars traditionally considered factors internal to a country – economic growth, rates of education or the natural environment – as the drivers of these waves. However, the geographic clustering of democracy and the wave-like pattern of expansion suggest the process may also involve a kind of contagion where democracy passes from one nation to another.</p> <p>One explanation for this is that democratic change spreads across borders, so that neighbouring countries end up with similar levels of democracy.</p> <p>Culture provides another explanation. Neighbouring countries tend to share a common cultural heritage, such as related languages or religions. This shapes national institutions, norms and values.</p> <p>In our research, we tested the idea that common cultural ancestry explains variation and change in democracy around the globe. We brought together 220 years of democracy data with information on the cultural relationships between nations. The cultural relationships we examined were based on languages and religious beliefs.</p> <p>For example, Portugal is linguistically closer to Spanish-speaking Argentina and Spain than to England and Germany (which speak Germanic languages). Likewise, Myanmar, a Theravada Buddhist country, is religiously closer to Mongolia (where Vajrayana Buddhism is predominant) than to Muslim Malaysia.</p> <h2>Culture is more important than geography</h2> <p>The democracy data we studied cover 269 modern and historical nations and three widely-used democracy indicators, measuring democratic and autocratic authority in governing institutions (<a href="https://www.systemicpeace.org/polityproject.html" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Polity 5</a>), electoral participation and competition (<a href="https://www.prio.org/data/20" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Vanhanen Index</a>) and individual rights and freedoms (<a href="https://freedomhouse.org/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Freedom House</a>).</p> <p>Across all three indicators of democracy, we found countries that share linguistic or religious ancestry tend to have more similar democracy scores. These shared cultural ties were better predictors of democracy than geography, especially during the third wave of democratisation.</p> <p>Knowing the democratic status of a country’s linguistic or religious relatives helps predict that country’s future level of democracy five, ten or even 20 years later.</p> <p>These effects were not just due to countries sharing a language (for example, the English-speaking world) or religion (such as the Sunni Islam majority countries). This suggests deeper cultural connections between countries are important.</p> <h2>What this means for the spread of democracy</h2> <p>These effects could be the result of a number of processes.</p> <p>One possibility is that countries directly inherited institutions along the same pathways they inherited cultural features like language. For instance, Aotearoa New Zealand and other Commonwealth countries inherited the British legal system along with the English language.</p> <p>Another possibility is that cultural similarities might make countries more likely to maintain ongoing social connections, including foreign relations, which then aid the spread of institutions. For example, the <a href="https://theconversation.com/how-the-arab-spring-changed-the-middle-east-and-north-africa-forever-161394" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Arab Spring</a> spread among a set of countries with common linguistic and religious heritage.</p> <p>A third possibility is that inherited cultural values could steer countries towards similar institutions. For example, <a href="https://www.nature.com/articles/s41562-019-0769-1" target="_blank" rel="noopener">in previous research</a> we found that tolerance of diversity (cosmopolitan values) promotes a shift to more democratic institutions, but the reverse is not true. Democratic institutions do not shift tolerance.</p> <p>Countries that have inherited cosmopolitan values as part of their shared cultural ancestry may be more likely to shift towards democracy. If this theory is correct, it calls into question the assumption that democratic institutions can endure without sustained efforts to promote the cultural values that support them. The US interventions in Afghanistan and Iraq may be tragic examples of this.</p> <p>Our findings indicate cultural history matters for understanding the spread of democracy around the globe. This does not mean culture is the only factor at play (our analyses still leave a lot of variation unexplained). Neither do our findings speak to a population’s ultimate potential to achieve democratic outcomes, but we see this as within the reach of all populations.</p> <p>This means those wishing to support democracy at home or abroad should take cultural barriers seriously. We cannot assume that institutions that work well in one cultural setting can be easily transplanted to another, very different setting, with different values, norms and traditions. We should pay more attention to culturally closely related countries that have succeeded at merging local norms and values with democratic institutions.</p> <p><strong>This article originally appeared on <a href="https://theconversation.com/democracy-spreads-in-waves-but-shared-cultural-history-might-matter-more-than-geography-189959" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The Conversation</a>.</strong></p> <p><em>Image: Shutterstock</em></p>

Legal

Placeholder Content Image

14 mind-blowing facts about selfies

<p><strong>They’re a window into your personality</strong></p> <p>It turns out that your favourite selfie pose can say a lot about your personality. In a study published in <em>Computers in Human Behaviour</em>, researchers connected self-portrait styles to specific character traits. For example, conscientious people tend to hide the location of their selfies, showing that they’re concerned with maintaining privacy. Those who appear positive and look directly into the camera tend to be more agreeable. Incidentally, those who have a go-to “duck face” pose are more likely to be emotionally unstable.</p> <p><strong>They can be a red flag</strong></p> <p>Psychologists believe that taking selfies can become a dangerous addiction. More often than not, those addicted to taking and posting selfies are suffering from body dysmorphic disorder, obsessive compulsive disorder, or depression, all of which can significantly interfere with your daily functioning. British psychologist Dr David Veal, says selfie-addiction is a “mental health issue with an extremely high suicide rate.” Seek help if you feel yourself needing to snap selfies compulsively.</p> <p><strong>They date back to the 16th century</strong></p> <p>You might think selfies started with smartphones, but they have a much longer history. The first-ever selfie was painted in 1524 using oil on wood. In “Self-portrait in a Convex Mirror,” 21-year-old artist Parmigianino depicted his own reflection. This young artist had no idea he was 500 years ahead of a booming trend!</p> <p><strong>They weren’t always easy to take</strong></p> <p>Parmigianino’s oil painting self-portrait aside, the first photographic selfie as we know it today was taken by Robert Cornelius in 1839. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy as tapping his thumb on an iPhone’s front-facing lens. Cornelius had to set up the camera on a stand, remove the lens cap, run into the frame, sit for five minutes, then sprint back and replace the cap. In this exhausting process, he took what is believed to be the first photographic self-portrait.</p> <p><strong>Some cities take more selfies than others</strong></p> <p>Though selfies are a global phenomenon, it turns out that some cities produce more than others. Time investigated the geography of selfie-snapping by building a database of more than 400,000 digital self-portraits with the caption, “#selfie.” They then mapped out the photos’ geographic coordinates and managed to rank 459 cities based on the number of selfies they generated. The study concluded that Makati City in the Philippines is the ‘Selfie Capital of the World,’ followed closely by Manhattan and Miami in the US.</p> <p><strong>They’re not only taken here on Earth</strong></p> <p>Everyone loves an exotic selfie, including NASA’s astronauts. Believe it or not, multiple selfies have been taken in outer space. Buzz Aldrin proudly took the first space selfie during the Gemini 12 mission in 1966. That’s one small step for man, one giant step for self-portraits.</p> <p><strong>Women take more than men</strong></p> <p>In every city analysed, women take more cities than men – but the differences greatly vary by area. In Bangkok, women take 55.2 per cent of all selfies, which isn’t that much more than men. In New York, however, women take 61.6 per cent of selfie snaps, which is considerable. Moscow, by contrast, has the greatest disparity, with women taking a whopping 82 per cent  of all selfies! It seems Russian men simply aren’t that interested in documenting their own reflection.</p> <p><strong>They can make great book material</strong></p> <p>If you’ve been suffering with writer’s block, perhaps you should follow Kim Kardashian’s example and just fill your novel with selfies. In May of 2015, Kardashian published a book called <em>Selfish</em>, which is 448 pages long and comprised entirely of her favourite selfies. Sound absurd? Apparently not. <em>Selfish </em>quickly became a<em> New York Times</em> bestseller.</p> <p><strong>It’s a young person’s sport</strong></p> <p>As one might expect, selfies are especially favoured by millennials. The average age of selfie-takers is 23.6. However, this average may soon take a dip, as preteens are gaining momentum, snapping more digital self-portraits every year.</p> <p><strong>They’re all about the hashtag</strong></p> <p>As selfies have grown in popularity over the last few years, the corresponding hashtag has remained their official label and link. According to Instagram, the first ever photo captioned with “#selfie” was uploaded by a Jennifer Lee on January 16, 2011. Since then, Instagram has had over 227 million self-portraits posted with the same hashtag – and that number grows by the minute.</p> <p><strong>It’s been the word of the year</strong></p> <p>In 2013, “selfie” was named <em>The Oxford English Dictionary</em>’s Word of the Year. Most years, there will be some disagreement or debate over which word should receive the honour, but in 2013, ‘selfie’ was chosen almost unanimously and expected from the start. And how could they not choose it? Selfie’s usage in the English language had increased by 17,000 per cent that year alone.</p> <p><strong>They aren’t always welcome</strong></p> <p>There has been a growing ban on selfie-taking, specifically when using selfie-sticks as tools. Disneyland’s Paris, Hong Kong, and American theme parks have forbidden the use of selfie sticks on their premises. The Palace Museum in Beijing and the Sistine Chapel in Italy have done the same. Even festivals like Lollapalooza in Chicago and Coachella in California have called for a halt. It looks like visitors will have to document their fun the old fashioned way: by extending their arms.</p> <p><strong>They aren’t always what they seem</strong></p> <p>The purpose of a self-portrait is to reflect your true self in a moment worth capturing. Sadly, it seems online selfies, more often than not, don’t actually portray reality. According to a recent survey, 68 per cent of selfie-takers admitted to editing their photos before sharing online. This number is up from 48 per cent of people who admitted to doctoring their selfies in 2014, suggesting that the pressure to appear perfect has only increased.</p> <p><strong>They’re not the majority</strong></p> <p>Although selfies may seem to be every other picture you encounter online, they fortunately aren’t the majority of all photos taken. In fact, people take selfies far less than we assume. Only 4 per cent of all images are actually selfies (depending on the city). The other 96 per cent of photos feature monuments, food, pets, shoes, friends, family, and more.</p> <p><em><span id="docs-internal-guid-5af27900-7fff-a180-8fa3-4da4a10c4d2c">Written by Aubrey Almanza. This article first appeared in <a href="https://www.readersdigest.co.nz/culture/14-mind-blowing-facts-about-selfies" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Reader’s Digest</a>. For more of what you love from the world’s best-loved magazine, <a href="http://readersdigest.innovations.co.nz/c/readersdigestemailsubscribe?utm_source=over60&amp;utm_medium=articles&amp;utm_campaign=RDSUB&amp;keycode=WRA87V" target="_blank" rel="noopener">here’s our best subscription offer.</a></span></em></p> <p><em>Image: Getty Images</em></p>

Technology

Placeholder Content Image

Romance fiction rewrites the rulebook

<p>Romance fiction has one of the most recognisable brands in book culture. It is known for a handful of attributes: its happy-ever-after endings, the pocket Mills &amp; Boon and Harlequin editions, the covers featuring Fabio (in the 1990s) or naked male torsos (the hot trend in the 21st century). It is known for being overwhelmingly written and read by women, and for being mass-produced.</p> <p>But romance fiction is also the most innovative and uncontrollable of all genres. It is the genre least able to be contained by established models of how the publishing industry works, or how readers and writers behave.</p> <p>Contemporary romance fiction is challenging the prevailing wisdom about how books come into being and find their readers.</p> <p>For our book <a href="https://www.umasspress.com/9781625346612/genre-worlds/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Genre Worlds: Popular Fiction and Twenty-First Century Book Culture</a>, coauthored with Lisa Fletcher, we conducted nearly 100 interviews with contemporary authors and publishing professionals. Our research shows that fiction genres are not static. They do not constrain artistic originality, but provide the kind of structure that sparks creativity and passion.</p> <p>Genre fiction can be understood as having three dimensions. The textual dimension is what happens on the page. The industrial dimension is how the books are produced. And the social dimension is the people who write, read and talk about genre fiction.</p> <p>These three dimensions interact to create what we have called a “genre world”. Each distinct genre world (such as fantasy or crime) combines textual conventions, social communities and industry expectations in its own way. And romance is the most fast-paced, rapidly changing genre world of them all.</p> <p>When it comes to genres of articles, we have a soft spot for the listicle. So, here are five things you may not know about contemporary romance fiction – five things that show the dynamism at the heart of book culture.</p> <h2>1. Romance is at the forefront of digital innovation</h2> <p>Twenty-first century publishing has seen fundamental shifts in the way books are produced, distributed and consumed, largely thanks to digital technology.</p> <p>The romance genre is notable historically for its rapid production and consumption cycle. As a result, it has been well placed to adapt to the widespread uptake of digital publishing, which also moves rapidly. Romance writers and publishers are entrepreneurial and comfortable taking risks. The moment constraints are released, romance writers rush in.</p> <p>This is exactly what has happened with self-publishing. Since the advent of <a href="https://kdp.amazon.com/en_US/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Kindle Direct Publishing</a> in 2007, hundreds of thousands of romance books have been self-published there. Other opportunities have blossomed on sites such as <a href="https://www.wattpad.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Wattpad</a> or through print-on-demand services such as <a href="https://www.ingramspark.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">IngramSpark</a>. In Australia, for example, there was a 1,000% increase in the number of self-published romance novels between 2010 and 2016.</p> <p>Some self-published romance novels have achieved mind-boggling success. Anna Todd’s 2014 romance novel <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/After_(Todd_novel)" target="_blank" rel="noopener">After</a>, originally fan fiction based on the band One Direction, drew more than 1.5 billion reads on Wattpad. It was subsequently acquired by Simon &amp; Schuster and has spawned a movie series.</p> <p>In other cases, romance authors have formed co-ops to publish work together. <a href="https://tulepublishing.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Tule Publishing</a> is a small, largely digital publisher with a limited print-on-demand service that produces multi-author continuity series as part of its publishing model. The Tule authors we interviewed spoke of their strong community and creative connections.</p> <p>The self-publishing of genre fiction has blurred the lines between author, agent, editor, cover designer, typesetter, publisher and bookseller.</p> <p><a href="http://www.stephanielaurens.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Stephanie Laurens</a>, one of the world’s most successful romance novelists, began writing with Mills &amp; Boon before moving to HarperCollins. In 2012, she gave a keynote address to the <a href="https://www.rwa.org/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Romance Writers of America</a> convention. She used the opportunity to reflect on industry change. Soon after, she began reconfiguring her own publishing arrangements.</p> <p>Now Harlequin publishes her print novels, while she self-publishes the e-book versions. She also self-publishes novellas that are prequels to, or that sit between, the novels in her traditionally published series.</p> <p>Laurens is a prolific author with loyal fans, an author who can afford to take risks. She realises that self-publishing potentially offers her a better deal and has been able to pursue that while retaining ties to a traditional publisher.</p> <p>Her career complicates any view of self-publishing as second best. Her example has been much emulated among romance writers. Such a career move challenges how we might typically theorise the power relations of literary culture.</p> <h2>2. Romance readers are active and engaged</h2> <p>The dynamism of romance fiction is intimately linked with its engaged readers. Unlike other kinds of publishing, where the fate of each book is relatively unpredictable, romance has historically had many loyal readers who subscribe through mail-order systems to receive books regularly – a model that has not worked successfully at scale for any other genre.</p> <p>In the 21st century, many of these loyal romance readers are online. They tweet about their favourite authors, write Goodreads reviews, and run blogs and podcasts.</p> <p>People read romance fiction for different reasons. They might be drawn to its focus on the emotional nuances of relationships, its escape into various times and places (romance subgenres really do cover the gamut), or its gold-plated promise of happy endings and pleasure. They might read casually or intensely, with curiosity, scepticism or devotion.</p> <p>All of these are active modes; they can’t be reduced to consumerism. There is an element of feeling to the involvement. The shared pleasure and sense of belonging that comes with being in the genre world came up regularly in our interviews.</p> <p>Author <a href="https://www.rachaeljohns.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Rachael Johns</a>, speaking of romance fiction, said “this is my passion, I fell in love with the romance genre”. Agent Amy Tannenbaum described the romance community as “tight-knit”. Harlequin marketing specialist Adam Van Roojen suggested the romance community’s supportive nature makes it “so distinctive I think from other genres”.</p> <p>People say the same thing about other genres, of course, but these claims show how people imagine genre worlds as a kind of community.</p> <p>Communities have boundaries and can be exclusionary. <a href="https://kristinabusse.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Kristina Busse</a> has written about the impulse to police borders in fan-fiction communities, and of how ascribing positive values to some members of a community may exclude other people.</p> <p>This dynamic is at work in genre worlds, even if it is low-key or not openly acknowledged. What’s more, the inside world of romance fiction has an inside of its own. This is evident in the way readers relate to one another (there is an implicit hierarchy of fans) and in the industrial underpinnings of the genre.</p> <p>For example, there is a distinction between a writer’s core audience and fringe audience that affects sales formats and international editions. Core romance readers tend to read digitally, and therefore can often access US editions of a book. Casual romance readers are more likely to pick up a print book from a store like Big W or Target and are therefore more likely to be the target audience for local editions.</p> <p>In general, though, both core and fringe romance readers know how to read romance fiction. They are attuned to the codes that run through the novels. Back in 1992, <a href="http://faculty.winthrop.edu/kosterj/engl618/readings/theory/Krentz&amp;BarlowRomanceCodes.pdf" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Jayne Ann Krentz and Linda Barlow</a> argued that certain words and phrases in romance fiction act as a hidden code “opaque to others”.</p> <p>Committed romance readers have a deep knowledge that makes them experts in their genre. When these readers express their views online, authors and publishers take note.</p> <p>One recent example involves a tweet from romance fiction author, podcaster and blogger <a href="https://www.sarahmaclean.net/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Sarah McLean</a>. She asked her nearly 40,000 Twitter followers to “Tell me the best romance you’ve read in the last week. Bonus points for it being 🔥🔥🔥.”</p> <p>The tweet was directed at the hardcore readers of the romance genre world. It assumed an audience that reads more than one romance novel per week. The 300 or so replies constitute a mega-thread of recommendations.</p> <p>Romance readers are generous to one another this way, as the sheer abundance of commercially and self-published romance fiction makes it hard to sort and choose. The replies also offer an up-to-the-minute map of the subgenres and tropes to which readers are responding. These include shape-shifters, second-chance love stories, queer romance, and dukes and duchesses (possibly a Bridgerton effect).</p> <h2>3. Romance fiction is global</h2> <p>Far from being circumscribed by small horizons, romance fiction is globally connected and inflected. This is amply demonstrated by the example of Australian romance fiction, which is formed and sustained across international literary markets and creative communities.</p> <p>Pascale Casanova’s theory of the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_World_Republic_of_Letters" target="_blank" rel="noopener">world republic of letters</a> notes the cultural force of London and New York as anglophone publishing centres. This mitigates against the inclusion of Australian content in popular fiction. Stories set in New York or London seem to have no limits in terms of international portability. But stories set in Australia, or another peripheral market, can be harder to pitch.</p> <p>Australian writers are conscious of this, as it directly affects the viability of their careers. But export success is possible for Australian work. The subgenre of Australian rural romance or “RuRo” is the best-known example. Authors like Rachel Johns are bestsellers in other territories. Romance novels set in Australia are popular in Germany – the Germans even have a name for them, the “Australien-Roman”.</p> <p>Romance fiction is energised by transnational communities of readers and writers, often mediated online. Australian romance author <a href="https://www.panmacmillan.com.au/author/kylie-scott/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Kylie Scott</a>, for instance, credits American romance bloggers with driving the popularity of her books, and thanks book bloggers in the acknowledgements of her books.</p> <p>These cultural mediators assist the transnational movement of books in genre worlds. The development of digital-first genre fiction publishers and imprints also supports such movement, not least through promoting global release dates and world rights, so that genre books can be simultaneously accessible to readers worldwide.</p> <p>But nothing comes close to the romance fiction convention, or “con”, in demonstrating the international cooperative links of the romance community. Cons, such as Romance Writers of America, support romance writers by providing professional development opportunities; they offer structure to participants’ professional lives.</p> <p>For example, Regency romance writer <a href="https://www.fantasticfiction.com/c/anna-campbell/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Anna Campbell</a> has oriented her career towards the United States. Campbell began to professionalise by joining the <a href="https://romanceaustralia.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Romance Writers of Australia</a>, but then entered professional prizes run through US networks, and it was these that gained attention for her writing and enabled her to get an agent. American success followed:</p> <blockquote> <p>My agent ended up setting up an auction in New York, and three of the big houses wanted to buy it. The auction went for a week, and at the end of Good Friday 2006, I was a published author and they paid me enough money to become a full-time writer.</p> </blockquote> <p>Campbell went on to write five books with Avon, then moved to Hachette for a number of books. She has now moved to self-publishing. The majority of her readership remains in the US.</p> <p>Romance’s capacity to reflect the local concerns of writers and readers, coupled with its responsiveness to global industrial processes, makes it one of the most intriguing genres for considering what “Australian books” might look like in the 21st century.</p> <p> </p> <figure></figure> <p> </p> <h2>4. Romance can be socially progressive</h2> <p>It has been more than 50 years since Germaine Greer, in The Female Eunuch, dismissed romance fiction as women “cherishing the chains of their bondage”. The perception that the genre is conservative persists.</p> <p>But romance writers and readers are more and more concerned with inequality across gender, race and sexuality. They are pushing back against old conventions.</p> <p>In 2018, Kate Cuthbert, then managing editor of Harlequin’s Escape imprint, gave a speech that revealed romance’s internal debates. She addressed the responsibilities of romance fiction writers and publishers in the #MeToo era, arguing that</p> <blockquote> <p>if we want to call ourselves a feminist genre, if we want to hold ourselves up as an example of women being centred, of representing the female gaze, of creating women heroes who not only survive but thrive, then we have to lead.</p> </blockquote> <p>For Cuthbert, this means “breaking up” with some familiar romance fiction tropes, such as the coercion of women:</p> <blockquote> <p>many of the behaviors that are now being called out – sexual innuendo, workplace advances, stolen kisses because the kisser couldn’t resist – feel in many ways like an old friend. They exist in the romance bubble […] and they readily tap into that shared emotional history over and over again in a way that feels familiar and safe.</p> </blockquote> <p>Cuthbert’s compassionate acknowledgement of readers’ and writers’ attachment to established genre norms sits alongside her call for evolution, for renewed attention to “recognising the heroine’s bodily autonomy, her right to decide what happens to it at every point”.</p> <p>Structural hostility in the publishing industry towards people of colour has also become a cause romance writers and readers rally behind. In 2018, <a href="http://blackmagicblues.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Cole McCade</a>, a queer romance writer with a multiracial background, revealed that his editor at Riptide had written to him:</p> <blockquote> <p>We don’t mind POC But I will warn you – and you have NO idea how much I hate having to say this – we won’t put them on the cover, because we like the book to, you know, sell :-(.</p> </blockquote> <p>In the wake of this revelation, multiple authors pulled their books from Riptide, as a further series of revelations about the publisher’s bad behaviour emerged.</p> <p>The following year, the Romance Writers of America examined the past 18 years of its <a href="https://www.rwa.org/Online/Awards/RITA/RITA_Award.aspx" target="_blank" rel="noopener">RITA Awards</a> finalists and published the results: no black author had ever won a RITA, and the percentage of black authors represented on shortlists was less than half a per cent.</p> <p>In response, the board published a “Commitment to RITAs and Inclusivity”, in which it called the shocking results a “systemic issue” that “needs to be addressed”. In 2020, they announced they were employing diversity and inclusion experts to help diversify their board, train staff, and help “design and structure” more inclusive membership programs and events, including the annual conference.</p> <p>The Romance Writers of America’s intentions have not always been successful. The ongoing visibility of marginalised groups in the genre continues nonetheless, in part driven by romance’s rapid and robust uptake of digital publishing. Access to publishing platforms has allowed micro-niche genres to proliferate. LGBTQIA+ romance subgenres have become particularly visible: from lesbian military romance to gay alien romance to realist asexual love stories.</p> <p>Sometimes these stories go spectacularly mainstream, as with C.S. Pacat’s <a href="https://cspacat.com/books/captive-prince/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The Captive Prince</a>, a gay erotic fantasy about a prince who is given to the ruler of a neighbouring kingdom as a pleasure slave. Originally self-published, The Captive Prince started as a web serial that gathered 30,000 signed-up fans and spawned Tumblrs dedicated to fan fiction and speculation about where the series would go.</p> <p>The book was rejected by major publishers, so Pacat self-published to Amazon and within 24 hours it had reached number 1 in LGBTQIA+ fiction. A New York agent approached Pacat and secured her a seven-figure publication deal with Penguin. The queer fantasy or paranormal romance has continued to thrive in Pacat’s wake.</p> <p>In our interviews with romance authors, questions of diversity, inclusion, representation and inequity arose again and again. In representation and amplifying marginalised voices, romance has enormous potential to lead the way.</p> <h2>5. Romance has gates that are kept</h2> <p>Romance fiction is more progressive than some stereotypes might suggest, but it is not free from exclusion or discrimination. The genre is influenced by its gatekeepers – human and digital.</p> <p>One form of gatekeeping takes place through the same voluntary associations that nurture community. In late 2019, the board of the Romance Writers of America censured prominent writer of colour, <a href="https://www.courtneymilan.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Courtney Milan</a>, suspending her from the organisation for a year and banning her from leadership positions for life.</p> <p>The decision was made following complaints by two white women, author Katherine Lynn Davis and publisher Suzan Tisdale, about statements Milan had made on Twitter, including calling a specific book a “fucking racist mess”.</p> <p>This use of the organisation’s formal mechanisms to condemn a woman of colour and support white women was controversial, provoking widespread debate across social media and email lists.</p> <p>Milan had long been an advocate for greater inclusion and diversity within Romance Writers of America and the romance genre. As <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/2019/dec/31/romance-novel-industry-uproar-discipline-author-racist-courtney-milan" target="_blank" rel="noopener">the Guardian reported</a>, the choice not to discipline anyone for “actually racist speech” made punishing someone for “calling something racist” seem like a particularly troubling double standard. “People saw it as an attempt to silence marginalised people,” observed Milan.</p> <p>The board retracted its decision about Milan. It is difficult, however, to calculate the damage that may have been done to readers and writers of colour in the romance genre world. Conversely, the use of Twitter to extend debate and eventually correct the Romance Writers of America shows change happening, in real time.</p> <p>Another form of gatekeeping in romance fiction happens through the same digital platforms that put the genre at the forefront of industry change.</p> <p>Safiya Umoja Noble’s book <a href="https://nyupress.org/9781479837243/algorithms-of-oppression/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Algorithms of Oppression</a> demonstrates how apparently neutral automated processes can work against women of colour — for example, the different results that come up from a Google search of “black girls” compared with “white girls.”</p> <p>In the world of romance fiction, <a href="https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Claire-Parnell" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Claire Parnell’s research</a> has shown the multiple ways in which the algorithms, moderation processes and site designs of Amazon and Wattpad work against writers of colour. For example, they make use of image-recognition systems that flag romance covers with dark-skinned models as “adult content” and remove them from search results. They can also override the author’s chosen metadata to move books into niche categories where fewer readers will find them, such as “African American romance” rather than the general “romance fiction”.</p> <p>Concerted activism and attention is needed to work against this kind of digital discrimination, which risks replicating the discrimination in traditional publishing.</p> <p>There is no simple way to account for the dynamics of contemporary romance fiction. It is inclusive and policed; it is public and intimate. Its industrial, social and textual dimensions are not static, but interact dynamically, incorporating the possibility of change. Only by understanding these interactions can we gain a complete picture of the work of popular fiction.</p> <p>Contemporary romance fiction is formally tight, emotionally intense and digitally advanced. It’s where the heartbeat of change and action is in book culture.</p> <p><strong>This article originally appeared on <a href="https://theconversation.com/friday-essay-romance-fiction-rewrites-the-rulebook-183136" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The Conversation</a>.</strong></p> <p><em>Image: Shutterstock</em></p>

Books

Placeholder Content Image

Child marriage comes with a heavy cost for young girls in Africa – but there’s one clear way out

<p>650 million women and girls alive today were married before their 18th birthday. That’s one of the startling figures contained in a <a href="https://data.unicef.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/Towards-Ending-Child-Marriage-report-2021.pdf" target="_blank" rel="noopener">2021 UNICEF report</a> about child marriage. Africa’s sub-Saharan region is home to <a href="https://data.unicef.org/topic/child-protection/child-marriage/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">nine of the ten countries</a> with the highest rates of child marriage in the world.</p> <p>Ingrained traditions and cultural practices typically entrench such early marriages. State or customary laws in <a href="https://www.unfpa.org/sites/default/files/pub-pdf/MarryingTooYoung.pdf#page=12" target="_blank" rel="noopener">146 countries</a> allow girls younger than 18 to marry with the consent of their parents or other authorities. In <a href="https://www.unfpa.org/sites/default/files/pub-pdf/MarryingTooYoung.pdf#page=12" target="_blank" rel="noopener">52 nations</a>, girls under 15 can marry with parental consent.</p> <p>Early marriage among boys is <a href="https://www.unicef.org/press-releases/115-million-boys-and-men-around-world-married-children-unicef" target="_blank" rel="noopener">also widespread</a>, though the numbers are far lower than they are for girls and young women.</p> <p>And it is girls and young women who pay the heaviest costs for early marriage. Girls who marry before 18 are <a href="https://data.unicef.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/Towards-Ending-Child-Marriage-report-2021.pdf" target="_blank" rel="noopener">more likely</a> to be subjected to domestic violence and less likely to continue schooling than their peers. They have worse economic and health outcomes, a burden they almost inevitably pass on to their children.</p> <p>Early marriage has been linked to poorer <a href="https://www.wider.unu.edu/sites/default/files/Events/PDF/Slides/1_khatoon.pdf" target="_blank" rel="noopener">cognitive development</a> and <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0277953617303283" target="_blank" rel="noopener">stunting</a> among the children of such women.</p> <p>Today, the practice is declining thanks to national and international policies, global treaties and, since 2016, the UNFPA-UNICEF Global Programme to End Child Marriage. But gains have been slow in sub-Saharan Africa.</p> <p>What is it that drives the practice in the region? That’s what we examined in a <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/0021909620966778" target="_blank" rel="noopener">recent study</a>. Using statistical analysis, we looked at the socio-economic and demographic determinants of early marriage among young women the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), Malawi, Mali and Niger. Each of the four countries has sought to introduce measures to discourage early marriage, but their challenges remain formidable.</p> <p>We explored several possible explanations and variables: age at first intercourse, education and literacy, women’s current age, region and type of place of residence, family wealth index, ethnicity, employment status, and even mass media exposure.</p> <p>One factor stands out across the four countries in our study: education. Women without formal education are more likely to marry early than those who completed secondary or higher education.</p> <h2>Four study countries</h2> <p>The four countries have a great deal in common, including high poverty levels and substantial under-15 and rural populations.</p> <p>In each country, around 50% of people are younger than 15, and around half of the countries’ respective populations live in rural areas (a full 84% in the case of <a href="https://malawi.unfpa.org/sites/default/files/resource-pdf/2018%20Malawi%20Population%20and%20Housing%20Census%20Main%20Report%20%281%29.pdf#page=23" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Malawi</a>).</p> <p>Among the four countries in our study, Niger has the highest child marriage prevalence worldwide – 76% of girls are married before the age of 18. The rates stand at 52% in Mali, 42% in Malawi, and 37% in the DRC.</p> <p>For our analysis, we turned to the most recently available demographic and health surveys from each of the four countries. We then applied a framework that seeks to describe the important social-cultural and cognitive variables and their interrelationships that underlie behaviours and decisions around reproductive health.</p> <h2>Statistical variables</h2> <p>The answers we found as to why early marriage is so commonplace in these countries were not always clear-cut. What’s more, there were lots of statistical variations across the four countries and contradictions, as was to be expected.</p> <p>For example, the average age of first marriage ranged from 15.3 in Niger to 17.1 in Malawi. There was also a range in the percentage of women from the poorest wealth category in the countries who had been married by 18: Niger (90.9%), Mali (80%), DRC (70.3%), Malawi (63.1%).</p> <p>Rates of early marriage dropped among women from richer categories, but were still high: Niger (72.7%), Mali (65.4%), DRC (60.3%) and Malawi (42.5%).</p> <p>The study also showed that young women living in rural areas were likely to marry earlier than those from urban areas.</p> <p>These variations’ social, economic, and cultural underpinnings are likely complex and would need some unpacking. In some cultures, for example, girls are married off young as they are considered to be more likely to be virgins still and can thus fetch a higher payment of what’s known as the <a href="https://www.globalcitizen.org/en/content/child-marriage-brides-india-niger-syria/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">bride price</a>.</p> <p>Amid the many statistical variables that emerged, we were especially struck by the relationship between educational levels and average age at first marriage.</p> <h2>The role of education</h2> <p>We found that the average age at first marriage in Niger, Mali, DRC, and Malawi increased from young people with no education (15.1, 15.4, 16.2, and 16.4, respectively) to those with secondary and higher education (17.0, 16.6, 17.1 and 18.5 in that order).</p> <p>In addition, we saw that the highest prevalence of early marriage (by 18 years) was found among young women with no education (90.6%, 80.3%, 70.9%, and 70.3%). It was lowest among women with secondary and higher education (64.2%, 62.9%, 58.9%, and 30.2%).</p> <p>Malawi is the only one of the four countries where school education is universal, accessible and compulsory.</p> <p>Education offers young women opportunities in life. In some African cultures, however, allowing girls to finish or even attend school <a href="https://www.girlsnotbrides.org/learning-resources/child-marriage-and-education/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">is discouraged</a> as it is feared that an educated girl is less likely to get a husband or be a good wife.</p> <p><a href="https://www.girlsnotbrides.org/learning-resources/child-marriage-atlas/atlas/malawi/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">In Malawi</a>, less than 15% of women have any secondary school education, and 42% of girls are married before the age of 18 – the twelfth highest rate of child marriage in the world.</p> <h2>Next steps</h2> <p>There is an urgent need for governments in these countries to introduce programmes that promote delaying the age at which girls first have sex and to equip adolescents with knowledge about responsible and safer sex.</p> <p>Policymakers should also work to promote prolonged enrolment in school for adolescent girls. And, crucially, laws are needed – and must be enforced – that criminalise child marriages.</p> <p><strong>This article originally appeared on <a href="https://theconversation.com/child-marriage-comes-with-a-heavy-cost-for-young-girls-in-africa-but-theres-one-clear-way-out-190924" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The Conversation</a>. </strong></p> <p><em>Image: Shutterstock</em></p>

Legal

Placeholder Content Image

"You get burnt together, you get wet together, you dance together": how festivals transform lives – and landscapes

<p>Every year in lutruwita/Tasmania, <a href="https://www.triplem.com.au/story/dark-mofo-2022-figures-show-festival-was-a-success-202082">tens of thousands of people</a>journey to and meander through the island state and take in festivals such as <a href="https://darkmofo.net.au/">Dark Mofo</a>, <a href="https://cygnetfolkfestival.org/">Cygnet Folk Festival</a> or <a href="https://www.nayriniaragoodspirit.com/">Nayri Niara Good Spirit Festival</a>. </p> <p>Part of the pull of this place and its cultural offerings are the landscapes in which such events are placed: picturesque mountain ranges and deep valleys; vast open paddocks and pristine bushlands; glistening coastlines; quirky city spaces.</p> <p>As human geographers, we understand that festival landscapes are more than a party backdrop. They are not waiting, ready to greet us like some sort of environmental festival host. They have <a href="https://www.thoughtco.com/what-is-deep-time-1440836">Deep Time</a> and layers of meaning.</p> <p>But when they become spaces for creative adventures, these landscapes also have profound effects on how people experience festivals, affecting our sense of place, of ourselves and others. </p> <p>Festivals come with specific boundaries – dates, gates or fences – and mark a period and place in which we experience <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/02614360802127243">some shifting of social norms</a>. </p> <p>In <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S1755458622000354#!">our research</a>, we wanted to explore how festivals affect people’s sense of place, self and other.</p> <p>As Grace, an avid festival-goer, told us “social expectations that come with adulthood get removed at a festival.” </p> <p>"I don’t know what happens when you walk through the gate of a festival [..] you leave all that behind and you step into what feels like […] a more authentic version of yourself. Or at least a freer one."</p> <h2>Creating spaces</h2> <p>A lot happens to make a festival landscape.</p> <p>Teams of staff and volunteers establish campsites, install rows of toilets that often are also composting works of art, build stages, lay kilometres of pipes and power chords and design paths, sculptures and dance floors. </p> <p>These collective labours create a special atmosphere; serve basic needs for sleep, food, hydration, warmth and sanitation; invite journeying to and from; and foster relationships to places and sites via immersive experiences and hands-on engagements with the landscape itself, for itself.</p> <p>Travis, a stage-builder and DJ, told us: "If you use what’s already there, then [the stage] blends in with that whole environment and ties in to how people see it and how people feel in it."</p> <p>Marion, a festival artist, spoke of her desire to show care and respect by creating work that “doesn’t impose and can […] naturally be reabsorbed” into the landscape. </p> <p>She described how all of the rocks for a labyrinth at one event came from the festival site. Once, the sheep who lived there walked through on their usual path – destroying her installation.</p> <h2>Transformative experiences</h2> <p>When people attend festivals, they often attach themselves to the landscape and detach from their daily lives: they are looking for transformative experiences. </p> <p>In lutruwita/Tasmania, festivals such as <a href="https://www.fractangular.com.au/">Fractangular</a> near Buckland and <a href="https://m.facebook.com/panamafestival">PANAMA</a> in the Lone Star Valley take place in more remote parts of the state. </p> <p>Grace, from Hobart, told us that being in those landscapes taps into "something that humans have done forever […] gather around sound and nature and just experience that and feel freedom."</p> <p>Even when festivals are based in urban landscapes, the transformation of these spaces can evoke a sense of freedom. </p> <p>For Ana, a festival organiser, creating thematic costumes is part of her own transformation. </p> <p>At festivals she feels freedom to “wear ‘more out there’ things”.</p> <p>"If I was on the street just on a Wednesday I’d have to [explain my outfit] […] Whereas at a [street] festival[it] flies under the radar."</p> <h2>Body memories</h2> <p>Festival landscapes have features conducive for meeting in place (think open spaces, play spaces, food and drink venues) and for separating out (think fences and signs). </p> <p>Commingling at festivals can literally lead people to bump into each other, reaffirm old bonds and create new connections through shared experiences. </p> <p>One artist, Marion, told us, "When you go and you camp, you get burnt together, you get wet together, you dance together. [It creates] an embrace for me."</p> <p>Festivals often linger in people’s memories, entwined with <a href="https://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s10708-008-9222-0">bodily experiences</a>. People we spoke with talked about hearing birdsong and music, seeing the sun rise and fall over the hills and feeling grass under their dancing feet.</p> <p>While <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/0038038514565835">one-off events</a> can be meaningful, revisiting festivals may have an <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/1440783318773531">especially powerful effect</a>. </p> <p>Annual festival pilgrimages become cycles of anticipation, immersion and memory-making. This continuing relationship with a landscape also allows festival goers to observe how the environment is changing.</p> <p>As festival organiser Lisa said, "Since 2013 […] every summer our site just got drier and drier. 2020 was the driest year of all. There was no creek. There was just a stagnant puddle."</p> <h2>Writing new stories</h2> <p>The COVID-19 pandemic led organisers and attendees to <a href="https://www.dw.com/en/how-music-festivals-are-surviving-coronavirus-cancellations/a-54374343">rethink engagements with live events</a>. Many were cancelled; some were trialled online. </p> <p>But after seasons of <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2020-07-17/music-festivals-in-tasmania-after-coronavirus/12462076">cancellations</a>, <a href="https://theconversation.com/without-visiting-headliners-can-local-artists-save-our-festivals-154830">downscaling</a> and <a href="https://untv.theunconformity.com.au/">online events</a>, some festivals in lutruwita/Tasmania are back, attracting thousands of domestic and interstate visitors. </p> <p>For those festivals that have disappeared, their traces remain in our countless individual and collective stories of the magic of festival landscapes.</p> <p><em>Image credits: Getty Images</em></p> <p><em>This article originally appeared on <a href="https://theconversation.com/you-get-burnt-together-you-get-wet-together-you-dance-together-how-festivals-transform-lives-and-landscapes-186558" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The Conversation</a>. </em></p>

Art

Placeholder Content Image

Why Craig McLachlan's Neighbours finale snub is so "devastating"

<p>Craig McLachlan has slammed "cancel culture" as the reason he was excluded from the final <em>Neighbours</em> episode. </p> <p>McLachlan played the brother of Kylie Minogue’s character Charlene, Henry Ramsay, in the beloved soap from 1987 to 1989, but was not invited back to the highly-anticipated show's finale. </p> <p>Craig accused the show's creators for succumbing to "cancel culture" to leave him out, after he was cleared of assault charges made by against him by four women he worked with on the Rocky Horror Show live production in 2014.</p> <p>He claims his past has now come back to haunt him, telling <a href="https://www.thesun.co.uk/tv/19339434/neighbours-craig-mclachlan-cancel-culture/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The Sun</a> he believes his legal troubles are the reason he was shunned from the show's star-packed finale, which will see a number of familiar faces reprise their roles.</p> <p>His entire onscreen family, including Kylie Minogue’s Charlene, his onscreen stepfather Harold Bishop, played by Ian Smith, and even a cameo from his on-screen late mother Madge (Anne Charleston) as a ghost, will give viewers one last show after 36 years on the air. </p> <p>A spokesperson for McLachlan said his on-screen mother being reincarnated so Anne Charleston can be involved in the episode was a particular sticking point for the actor. </p> <p>“Henry’s dead mother is being reincarnated for the final episode — but cancel culture won’t allow her son Henry to appear or even be acknowledged,” a spokeswoman for McLachlan exclusively told The Sun, going on to call the snub “devastating”.</p> <p>“What Craig and his partner have endured over the past four-and-a-half years — only to come out the other side and be confronted by, among other things, the attempted permanent erasing of his part in <em>Neighbours</em> history — is devastating,” the spokeswoman said.</p> <p>“Craig was not invited to take part in the closing episode or indeed to contribute in any way to the end of <em>Neighbours</em>."</p> <p>“Henry was, and continues to be, an all-time <em>Neighbours</em> favourite, a character Craig loves to this day. Craig happily and enthusiastically contributed to a number of <em>Neighbours</em> celebratory milestones over the years and was always so thrilled to be invited to partake.”</p> <p><em>Image credits: Getty Images</em></p>

TV

Placeholder Content Image

The “marshmallow test” of delayed gratification is actually culturally diverse

<p>The <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stanford_marshmallow_experiment" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Stanford marshmallow experiment</a> is one of the most enduring child psychology studies of the last 50 years.</p> <p>The test is a simple one. A child aged between 3 and 6 had a marshmallow (later experiments also used a pretzel) placed in front of them and told that if they wait, they could have a second marshmallow when the tester returned. The original study found that those who waited for the extra marshmallow had more success as an adult than those that scoffed the marshmallow down, suggesting that being able to delay gratification is an important life skill. </p> <p>But since its inception, people have argued whether waiting for a marshmallow as a five-year-old can really tell you how successful, thin and educated you’ll be as an adult, or if there might be other, more complicated factors going on behind the scenes.</p> <p>A new study published in the journal <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/09567976221074650?journalCode=pssa" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener"><em>Psychological Science</em></a> has suggested one of those factors – showing that cultural upbringing could change the way children respond.</p> <p> “We found that the ability to delay gratification – which predicts many important life outcomes – is not just about variations in genes or brain development but also about habits supported by culture,” <a href="https://www.colorado.edu/today/2022/07/21/new-take-marshmallow-test-when-it-comes-resisting-temptation-childs-cultural-upbringing" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">said one of the researchers</a>, University of Colorado Boulder psychology researcher Yuko Munakata.</p> <p>“It calls into question: How much of our scientific conclusions are shaped by the cultural lens we, as researchers, bring to our work?”</p> <div class="newsletter-box"> <div id="wpcf7-f6-p199467-o1" class="wpcf7" dir="ltr" lang="en-US" role="form"> </div> </div> <p>This is a larger problem than just some kids eating marshmallows. Historically, science – across <a href="https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/clinical-trials-have-far-too-little-racial-and-ethnic-diversity/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">clinical</a> and <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/1745691620927709" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">psychology</a> research – has a habit of having too little cultural diversity, and the new research shows why this can be an issue.</p> <p>The researchers found that the 80 children in Japan were much better at waiting to eat food when asked than the 58 children in the United States. However, this was reversed when asked to wait to open gifts.  </p> <p>“This interaction may reflect cultural differences: waiting to eat is emphasised more in Japan than in the United States, whereas waiting to open gifts is emphasised more in the United States than in Japan,” <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/09567976221074650" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">the team write in their new paper.</a> </p> <p>“These findings suggest that culturally specific habits support delaying gratification, providing a new way to understand why individuals delay gratification and why this behaviour predicts life success.”</p> <p>This small study doesn’t look into the longer-term results of the original marshmallow experiment, like whether the kids will be more successful as adults. Along with cultural differences, other studies have shown <a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/family/archive/2018/06/marshmallow-test/561779/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">qualities like affluence</a> are also a defining factor.</p> <p>All of this is only if the marshmallow test actually holds at all. <a href="https://anderson-review.ucla.edu/new-study-disavows-marshmallow-tests-predictive-powers/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Recent follow up studies</a> with <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/0956797618761661" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">larger groups</a> of children followed into adulthood have shown that those who chose marshmallowey goodness straight away are not generally more or less financially secure, educated or healthy than their food-delaying peers.</p> <p>It seems that 50 years later the test is still telling us things – just about our own biases rather than predicting the future of five-year-olds.</p> <p><img id="cosmos-post-tracker" style="opacity: 0; height: 1px!important; width: 1px!important; border: 0!important; position: absolute!important; z-index: -1!important;" src="https://syndication.cosmosmagazine.com/?id=199467&amp;title=The+%26%238220%3Bmarshmallow+test%26%238221%3B+of+delayed+gratification+is+actually+culturally+diverse" width="1" height="1" /></p> <div id="contributors"> <p><em><a href="https://cosmosmagazine.com/people/marshmallow-test-cultural-diverse/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">This article</a> was originally published on <a href="https://cosmosmagazine.com" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Cosmos Magazine</a> and was written by <a href="https://cosmosmagazine.com/contributor/jacinta-bowler" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Jacinta Bowler</a>. Jacinta Bowler is a freelance science journalist who has written about far-flung exoplanets, terrifying superbugs and everything in between. They have written articles for ABC, SBS, ScienceAlert and Pedestrian, and are a regular contributor for kids magazines Double Helix and KIT.</em></p> <p><em>Image: Getty Images</em></p> </div>

Caring

Placeholder Content Image

New research in Arnhem Land reveals why institutional fire management is inferior to cultural burning

<p>One of the conclusions of this week’s shocking <a href="https://soe.dcceew.gov.au/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">State of the Environment report</a> is that climate change is lengthening Australia’s bushfire seasons and raising the number of days with a fire danger rating of “very high” or above. In New South Wales, for example, the season now extends to almost eight months.</p> <p>It has never been more important for institutional bushfire management programs to apply the principles and practices of Indigenous fire management, or “cultural burning”. As the report notes, cultural burning reduces the risk of bushfires, supports habitat and improves Indigenous wellbeing. And yet, the report finds:</p> <blockquote> <p>with significant funding gaps, tenure impediments and policy barriers, Indigenous cultural burning remains underused – it is currently applied over less than 1% of the land area of Australia’s south‐eastern states and territory.</p> </blockquote> <p>Our <a href="https://www.nature.com/articles/s41598-022-12946-3" target="_blank" rel="noopener">recent research</a> in <em>Scientific Reports</em> specifically addressed the question: how do the environmental outcomes from cultural burning compare to mainstream bushfire management practices?</p> <p>Using the stone country of the Arnhem Land Plateau as a case study, we reveal why institutional fire management is inferior to cultural burning.</p> <p>The few remaining landscapes where Aboriginal people continue an unbroken tradition of caring for Country are of international importance. They should be nationally recognised, valued and resourced like other protected cultural and historical places.</p> <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"> <p dir="ltr" lang="en">Different indigenous fire application today with a country full of weeds. First burn of of two applications this year. This is what we have to do to make country have less flammable vegetation. Walk through, More time and love put into country. <a href="https://t.co/pnoWFQbq6C">pic.twitter.com/pnoWFQbq6C</a></p> <p>— Victor Steffensen (@V_Steffensen) <a href="https://twitter.com/V_Steffensen/status/1505384041402748930?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">March 20, 2022</a></p></blockquote> <p><strong>Ancient fire management</strong></p> <p>The rugged terrain of the Arnhem Plateau in Northern Territory has an ancient human history, with archaeological evidence <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/science/2017-07-20/aboriginal-shelter-pushes-human-history-back-to-65,000-years/8719314#:%7E:text=New%20excavations%20of%20a%20rock,earlier%20than%20archaeologists%20previously%20thought." target="_blank" rel="noopener">dated at 65,000 years</a>.</p> <p>Arnhem Land is an ideal place to explore the effects of different fire regimes because fire is such an essential feature of the natural and cultural environment.</p> <p>Australia’s monsoon tropics are particularly fire prone given the sharply contrasting wet and dry seasons. The wet season sees prolific growth of grasses and other flammable plants, and dry season has reliable hot, dry, windy conditions.</p> <p>Millennia of <a href="https://theconversation.com/the-worlds-best-fire-management-system-is-in-northern-australia-and-its-led-by-indigenous-land-managers-133071" target="_blank" rel="noopener">skilful fire management</a> by Indigenous people in these landscapes have allowed plants and animals needing infrequently burnt habitat to thrive.</p> <p>This involves shifting “mosaic” burning, where small areas are burned regularly to create a patchwork of habitats with different fire histories. This gives wildlife a diversity of resources and places to shelter in.</p> <p>Conservation biologists suspect that the loss of such patchy fires since colonisation has contributed to the <a href="http://132.248.10.25/therya/index.php/THERYA/article/view/236/html_66" target="_blank" rel="noopener">calamitous demise</a> of wildlife species across northern Australia, such as northern quolls, northern brown bandicoots and grassland melomys.</p> <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"> <p dir="ltr" lang="en">"Fire is the way to really look after the land and the people. Since we started here, we've been using fire. And we need to bring it back because it unites the people and the land." Jacob Morris, Gumea-Dharrawal Yuin man. 🎥 Craig Bender &amp; <a href="https://twitter.com/VeraHongTweets?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">@VeraHongTweets</a> <a href="https://t.co/Afh6iwIrOX">pic.twitter.com/Afh6iwIrOX</a></p> <p>— FiresticksAlliance (@FiresticksA) <a href="https://twitter.com/FiresticksA/status/1436177617049296901?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">September 10, 2021</a></p></blockquote> <p><strong>Collapse of the cypress pine</strong></p> <p>Our study was undertaken over 25 years, and wouldn’t have been possible without the generous support and close involvement of the Traditional Owners over this time.</p> <p>It compared an area under near continuous Indigenous management by the Kune people of Western Arnhem Land with ecologically similar and unoccupied areas within Kakadu National Park.</p> <p>We found populations of the cypress pine (<em>Callitris intratropica</em>) remained healthy under continual Aboriginal fire management. By contrast, cypress pine populations had collapsed in ecologically similar areas in Kakadu due to the loss of Indigenous fire management, as they have across much of northern Australia.</p> <p>The population of dead and living pines is like a barcode that records fire regime change. The species is so long lived that older trees were well established before colonisation.</p> <p>The timber is extremely durable and termite resistant, so a tree killed by fire remains in the landscape for many decades. And mature trees, but not juveniles, can tolerate low intensity fires, but intense fires kill both.</p> <figure class="align-center zoomable"><em><a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/475072/original/file-20220720-22-odbe84.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=1000&amp;fit=clip"><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/475072/original/file-20220720-22-odbe84.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;fit=clip" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/475072/original/file-20220720-22-odbe84.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=800&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/475072/original/file-20220720-22-odbe84.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=30&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=800&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/475072/original/file-20220720-22-odbe84.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=15&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=800&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/475072/original/file-20220720-22-odbe84.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=1005&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/475072/original/file-20220720-22-odbe84.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=30&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=1005&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/475072/original/file-20220720-22-odbe84.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=15&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=1005&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=3 2262w" alt="" /></a></em><figcaption><em><span class="caption">Cypress pine timber can remain in the landscape decades after the tree died.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Michael Hains/Atlas of Living Australia</span>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">CC BY-NC-SA</a></span></em></figcaption></figure> <p>Since 2007, park rangers have attempted to emulate cultural burning outcomes. They’ve used aircraft to drop incendiaries to create a coarse patchwork of burned and unburned areas to improve biodiversity in the stone country within Kakadu.</p> <p>Unfortunately, our research found Kakadu’s fire management interventions failed to restore landscapes to the healthier ecological condition under traditional Aboriginal fire management.</p> <p>While the Kakadu aerial burning program increased the amount of unburnt vegetation, it didn’t reverse the population collapse of cypress pines. Searches of tens of kilometres failed to find a single seedling in Kakadu, whereas they were common in comparable areas under Aboriginal fire management.</p> <p>Our study highlights that once the ecological benefits of cultural burning are lost, they cannot be simply restored with mainstream fire management approaches.</p> <p>But that’s not to say the ecological impacts from the loss of Aboriginal fire management cannot be reversed. Rather, restoring fire regimes and ecosystem health will be slow, and require special care in where and how fires are set.</p> <p>This requires teams on the ground with deep knowledge of the land, rather than simply spreading aerial incendiaries from helicopters.</p> <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"> <p dir="ltr" lang="en">After 60 years of fire exclusion, another magic day restoring fire to Arakwal-Bundjalung-Bumberlin country. <a href="https://t.co/xRRNb4ELdQ">pic.twitter.com/xRRNb4ELdQ</a></p> <p>— Dr. Andy Baker (@FireDiversity) <a href="https://twitter.com/FireDiversity/status/1537768580455931905?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">June 17, 2022</a></p></blockquote> <p><strong>There’s much to learn</strong></p> <p>There remains much for Western science to learn about <a href="https://theconversation.com/fighting-fire-with-fire-botswana-adopts-indigenous-australians-ancient-burning-tradition-135363" target="_blank" rel="noopener">traditional fire management</a>.</p> <p>Large-scale institutional fire management is based on concepts of efficiency and generality. It is controlled by bureaucracies, and achieved using machines and technologies.</p> <p>Such an “industrial” approach cannot replace the placed-based knowledge, including close human relationships with Country, underpinning <a href="https://www.firesticks.org.au/about/cultural-burning/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">cultural burning</a>.</p> <p>Cultural burning and institutional fire management could be thought of as the differences between home cooking and fast food. Fast food is quick, cheap and produces the same product regardless of individual needs. Home cooking takes longer to prepare, can cater to individual needs, and can improve wellbeing.</p> <p>But restoring sustainable fire regimes based on the wisdom and practices of Indigenous people cannot be achieved overnight. Reaping the benefits of cultural burning to landscapes where colonialism has disrupted ancient fire traditions take time, effort and resources.</p> <p>It’s urgent remaining traditional fire practitioners are recognised for their invaluable knowledge and materially supported to continue caring for their Country. This includes:</p> <ul> <li>actively supporting Indigenous people to reside on their Country</li> <li>to pay them to undertake natural resource management including cultural burning</li> <li>creating pathways enabling Indigenous people separated from their country by colonialism to re-engage with fire management.</li> </ul> <p>Restoring landscapes with sustainable cultural burning traditions is a long-term project that will involve training and relearning ancient practices. There are extraordinary opportunities for Indigenous and non-Indigenous people alike to learn how to Care for Country.</p> <hr /> <p><em>The authors gratefully acknowledge the contribution of Victor Steffensen, the Lead Fire Practitioner at the Firesticks Alliance Indigenous Corporation, who reviewed this article.</em><img style="border: none !important; box-shadow: none !important; margin: 0 !important; max-height: 1px !important; max-width: 1px !important; min-height: 1px !important; min-width: 1px !important; opacity: 0 !important; outline: none !important; padding: 0 !important;" src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/184562/count.gif?distributor=republish-lightbox-basic" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" /></p> <p><em><a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/david-bowman-4397" target="_blank" rel="noopener">David Bowman</a>, Professor of Pyrogeography and Fire Science, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/university-of-tasmania-888" target="_blank" rel="noopener">University of Tasmania</a>; <a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/christopher-i-roos-1354187" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Christopher I. Roos</a>, Professor, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/southern-methodist-university-1988" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Southern Methodist University</a>, and <a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/fay-johnston-90826" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Fay Johnston</a>, Professor, Menzies Institute for Medical Research, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/university-of-tasmania-888" target="_blank" rel="noopener">University of Tasmania</a></em></p> <p><em>This article is republished from <a href="https://theconversation.com" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The Conversation</a> under a Creative Commons license. Read the <a href="https://theconversation.com/new-research-in-arnhem-land-reveals-why-institutional-fire-management-is-inferior-to-cultural-burning-184562" target="_blank" rel="noopener">original article</a>.</em></p> <p><em>Image: @FireDiversity (Twitter)</em></p>

Domestic Travel

Placeholder Content Image

New Air NZ exhibit celebrates Māori culture

<p dir="ltr">A new exhibition promises to take visitors through the skies of New Zealand by combining virtual reality with the real world.</p> <p dir="ltr">The exhibition, launched by Air New Zealand, sees a virtual version of Pou Tikanga, Pou Pūrākau (cultural leader, storyteller) Joe Harawira take guests through the story of Matariki, the celebration of the Māori new year.</p> <p dir="ltr">"Attendees will board the waka rererangi (canoe in the sky) to visit the Guardians Tanē Mahuta (forest), Tangaroa (sea), Papatūānuku (land), and Ranginui (sky) to experience the Matariki story, all without moving an inch,” Air New Zealand Senior Cultural Development Manager Jahmaine Cummings-Hodge said in a <a href="https://www.airnewzealand.com.au/join-araraurangi-air-new-zealand-in-the-waka-rererangi-for-a-matariki-journey" target="_blank" rel="noopener">statement</a>.</p> <p dir="ltr">"A full 3D virtual version of Joe has been created which appears in the experience at a human scale. We have also replicated the carved waka in its entirety digitally using similar techniques, mimicking intricate carvings and textures."</p> <p dir="ltr">A combination of facial motion capture, photogrammetry, and scanning techniques was used to bring the virtual versions of Joe and the waka to life, which can be viewed using Magic Leap headsets.</p> <p dir="ltr">The technology used by Magic Leap layers digital objects onto the real world, meaning that light enters the eye just like it would if a real object were being viewed.</p> <p dir="ltr">The virtual reality experience comes after the airline worked with Harawira for a new safety video celebrating Māori culture, released in May this year, and as part of the company’s efforts to support te ao Māori (the Māori worldview).</p> <p dir="ltr">"As the national carrier, Air New Zealand has a responsibility to demonstrate an authentic and holistic support of Māori culture,” Cummings-Hodge said.</p> <p dir="ltr">The experience, launched at the Canterbury Museum on June 18-19, will be live at Te Puia in Rotorua from June 22.</p> <p><span id="docs-internal-guid-73e10ed5-7fff-2715-1fe5-c9fa598026d9"></span></p> <p dir="ltr"><em>Image: @canterburymuseum (Instagram)</em></p>

Domestic Travel

Placeholder Content Image

Meet the experts working to preserve Ukraine’s cultural history

<p dir="ltr">As the war in Ukraine wages on, officials are growing increasingly concerned about the preservation of the country’s art history and cultural heritage. </p> <p dir="ltr">As historic museums and buildings are being bombed by the Russian offensive, while precious artefacts are being stolen and looted. </p> <p dir="ltr">"We have museum buildings destroyed, with all collections turned into ashes — it's quite a barbaric situation," curator and art historian Konstantin Akinsha tells <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/radionational/programs/the-roundtable/13821526">ABC RN's Sunday Extra.</a></p> <p dir="ltr">"[The] other side of the problem is that in little towns which are occupied by Russians, we have the first cases of random looting of museums."</p> <p dir="ltr">Recently, Scythian gold artefacts dating back to the fourth century BC were stolen from a museum in the southern Ukraine town of Melitopol.</p> <p dir="ltr">Officials in Ukraine said Russian soldiers were accompanied by an unknown expert "in a white coat", who carefully extracted the ancient gold artefacts from cardboard boxes hidden in the museum's cellar.</p> <p dir="ltr">"This is one of the largest and most expensive collections in Ukraine, and today we don't know where they took it," Melitopol mayor Ivan Fedorov said at the time.</p> <p dir="ltr">Mr Akinsha, who is an expert on the cultural destruction of World War II, says he is now “reliving” what he learned during his studies “in real time”. </p> <p dir="ltr">He has been in contact with many curators and artists throughout the conflict, and reports that many museums have been unable to evacuate their collections in time. </p> <p dir="ltr">Moving them outside of Ukraine would be highly political and would require permission from national authorities. This has meant some of those looking after art have been forced to pack up the collections and live in the museums' cellars.</p> <p dir="ltr">According to Ukraine officials, more than 250 cultural institutions have been damaged or destroyed since the conflict began in February. </p> <p dir="ltr">Since the start of the war, members of the ALIPH Foundation, an international alliance that works to protect cultural heritage both during and post conflict, has been helping cultural heritage professionals and museum directors in the Ukraine.</p> <p dir="ltr"> They have sent crates, packing material and fireproof blankets to institutions to help protect collections and respond to their needs.</p> <p dir="ltr">"The storage facilities themselves need to be up to standard … [they] need to have proper humidity control, be away from the elements and the packing boxes need to be of a certain calibre in order to protect the artefacts because these artefacts are, of course, precious and fragile," said Sandra Bialystok, the communications and partnerships officer for ALIPH Foundation.</p> <p dir="ltr">Despite the huge challenge of protecting these cultural works, Konstantin Akinsha said their preservation is uniting the people of Ukraine. </p> <p dir="ltr">"In individual towns and villages attacked by Russians and occupied by Russians, people are trying to save objects from the local museums, hiding them in their houses," he says.</p> <p dir="ltr">"Because for them, this heritage is extremely important – it's part of their life.”</p> <p dir="ltr"><em>Image credits: Getty Images</em></p>

Art

Over 60

© Copyright 2024 OverSixty.All Rights Reserved.