Wilson is not only the playwright of Unsex Me, but also plays the role of “award-winning actress Mark Wilson” in this one(wo)man show. This bearded beauty discusses the life of a celebrity, her passion for acting and her new role: Lady Macbeth in her father’s upcoming rendition of the Scottish play.

If Shakespeare and RuPaul had a love child, Unsex Me’s opening would be it. Wilson begins the show with a well-polished lip sync to one of Lady Macbeth’s monologues. She does this while wearing an enormous get-up designed by Amaya Vecellio that combines high fashion with Scottish traditional wear. The show goes meta-theatrical when Wilson is thanked for performing and sits down to chat about her career.

If you’re a man, there’s an chance that you might be asked to join Wilson onstage to play her boyfriend ‘Guy’. The man sitting beside me was a little timid as he was selected. While it is amusing to see the interaction that might play out between these two characters as they emulate a domestic relationship on the fictional setting of “National TV,” it is unclear what we are truly laughing at. Are we laughing because they’re both men, or because the ‘female’ character is more dominant, or are we laughing because this poor guy is put on the spot?

Wilson does an excellent job of portraying the award-winning actress, however, it’s questionable whether Wilson’s work raises its laughs from socio-political satire or from the shock factor of all the things that could happen when a bearded man plays a woman. Masculine traits demonstrated in Wilson’s character are turned into punch-lines which arguably reinforce the gender stereotypes of how women should be.

The show’s epilogue is juxtaposed against the contemporary drag act that takes place before it. Lines between Wilson, the actor and playwright, Wilson, the award-winning actress, and Lady Macbeth are blurred in a dense commentary on philosophy, art theory, suicide and more.

Details: This production is marketed to 18+ audiences only, and that’s something that should be actively followed. From the basics of striptease and nudity, to crude humour, to an elongated and simulated sex scene between Wilson and a microphone; Unsex Me is not something for children – or the faint-hearted. It was performed at Smith’s Alternative Bookshop on Tuesday & Friday March 18 & 21, 2014.

Image by Erica Hurrell

Groovers included adolescents and baby-boomers, with an array of dance styles to suit the spectrum. NLNL patriots could be spotted in sports gear- seemingly incongruent attire for a Saturday night in Civic. However, they were much better equipped than those in layers and heeled shoes, unaware they would soon exert the energy required to flip a truck.

It is not just the concept of NLNL that was widely accessible, but the music selection. Although mostly pop and rock, there were also jazz and alternative tunes mixed in among The Bangles, Pharrell Williams and Beyoncé. A comic surprise came when the audience realised they were thrashing around to a hard-core cover of Piero Umiliani’s Mah Nà Mah Nà, a song best known here for its use at the Banana Boat sunscreen jingle, and of course there was the lascivious classic Oh Yeah by Yello. The NLNL team just played songs that make patrons want to move. As obvious at it sounds, it was a pleasant relief from monotonous club music and bad remixes commonly found at Canberra dance venues.

Dancers were there purely for a good time. Testimonials regard NLNL as an opportunity to escape the ennui of popular dance culture and every day life. This became even more evident when one rabid patron (my sister) grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me, yelling ‘you’d better take me to emergency – ‘cause I’ve got DANCE FEVER’.

Despite the deranged strangers throwing themselves around like lunatics in faint lighting, the event felt especially safe. NLNL is open and appropriate for all ages, so given the demographic you’re unlikely to find the unwanted ‘bump and grinder’ looking for a hook-up.

The night closed with a warm-down session featuring the Piña Colada song. Heart rates slowed and water canisters were emptied. Club goers looked on in horror at the sweat stained shirts and make-up-less faces of the satisfied dancers escaping the Money Bin into cool night air.

No Lights No Lycra is what has been missing my whole life; a glorious facility for those who want to twist and shout without fear judgment or wandering hands. Encouraging freedom of expression and physical activity, No Lights No Lycra is a fresh awareness of the community’s unknown needs.

Details: No Lights No Lycra is run weekly: Tuesday nights 7:45pm – 9.15 Corroborree Park, Paterson St, Ainslie. It made an outing to You Are Here on Friday March 21, 2014.

Bio: Grace Flanagan is an undergraduate student at ANU who traditionally pens short-fiction. She’s been grabbed by an octopus and found $50 in the ocean. Her life’s goal is to perform a handstand unassisted.

Image by Jake Pember

 The audience are active participants in a new work by Natalie Abbott, Janine Proost and Amelia McQueen, and from the beginning we are invited, coaxed and drawn into its making. Elevate demands that the performers stay with us constantly in the present while still achieving the structures around which the work is built.

Each audience member is led into the space where the three performers ask the question “What do you expect?” The glass walls of the gallery are soundproof, which allows the audience left waiting outside to observe everything taking place but remain unaware of the question until entering. Inside there is a sense that we are initiated into a collective understanding and follow the trio as they engage in improvised and continually re-imagined responses to each person’s ‘expectations’.

Understandably, there is apprehension for some in the audience, while others appear completely comfortable. There are also those who drop their guard without realising that they momentarily become the most enthralling performer present.

Once everyone has been brought into the space, the work continues through a number of experiences. This includes the trio being birthed through a glitter sheet, carrying audience members through the space, and undertaking a frenetic attempt to physically experience something akin to elevation in all possible manifestations. It takes time to move through the stages of the work but we are involved as more than just observers in many ways, which tempers a need to understand what’s happening. We are spoken to, lightly touched or held, asked to write, and then partnered with another audience member to speak and yell the words.

As each new relationship between audience and performers is negotiated, the boundaries of exchange become elastic, as no one holds complete control over the performance. All are invested and vulnerable in the same moment. Abbott, Proost and McQueen use their bodies, voices, costumes, the space, and each other to deal with this fluid territory, encompassing everything from literal to theatrical to inexplicable physicalised translations of the experience at hand.

When the trio exit the space at the conclusion of the work, they even give us an opportunity to share an audience-only connection. Standing in torchlight, we have been positioned into a circle linked by our outstretched arms. We become the individual remnants and collective heart of the performance and have the potential to realise our own experience of the final instructions to “Expand. Elevate.”

Abbott, Proost and McQueen are generous and sincere throughout the performance, which encourages the audience to be equally present, even if through confusion or hesitation. For one night only Elevate was like being inside a live and non-repeatable experiment where together we were simultaneously the content and the results.

Details: Elevate was performed at the Canberra Museum and Gallery, Gallery 4, on Wednesday March 19, 2014.

Bio: A VCA Dance graduate and 2013 ArtStart recipient, Kelly Beneforti performs, teaches and choreographs in diverse contexts across the country. Originally from Darwin, she continues to spend time in urban and remote parts of the Northern Territory, notably with Tracks Dance Company. Kelly also maintains professional relationships in Tasmania and Melbourne. In Canberra, Kelly participated in the Soft Landing program with QL2 and last year performed in No Place, an immersive installation work by independent artist Adelina Larsson. This is Kelly’s first experience in review writing, however, she was involved in You Are Here in 2013 as a performer.

Image by Lorna Sim

The evening was curated by digital artist and musician Danny Wild, founding member of audio-visual collective Zonk Vision. Most films shown came from artists Wild knows personally and were not merely recorded skits. Few videos contained dialogue and only one seemed to have a script of some kind. The rest were ultimately video art, smashing film and animation together and finding beauty in the mundane.

Part one consisted of the results of an open call for one-minute films. The collection opened with Sarah Byrne’s Internet Psychosis, an array of jarring images and layered web pages in overwhelming colour. Luke McGrath’s Johnny Bastard told the story of a one-night stand through subtitles. With lines like ‘he described my pubic hair as angel fur’, McGrath had his audience in giggles.

The highlight of the screening was Raw Nature Films’ Subtitles, footage of a grocery-store clerk patting a watermelon, glaring the cameraman. The clip was increasingly hilarious each time it was repeated. Kat Martin entered an incredible animation of colour and light (not for epileptics). She hypnotised the audience with overwhelming angles and finished with a contrastingly fluid end.

Part two was shown across the room, where the audience huddled together on their cushions in what felt like a screening in Wild’s lounge room. The team struggled with some technical difficulties, but it was of little concern with the show’s relaxed vibe. Pieces shown here had been specially selected by Wild, and began with shaky footage of Toast, an old Canberra club familiar to the crowd, care of Timothy D (Zonk Vision).

Jason Galea (also of Zonk Vision) had two features, both one-minute excerpts of a thirty-minute film. The first section showed footage of an anchorman underneath animated oil paint that moved across his face like a weather map. Wild then played a segment from the beginning of the video, an instructional collage of how the piece should be viewed. Sara Wurker and Tim Guthrie worked together on one of the final videos. Through smoke and flame the camera captured a woman’s movements, mesmerising the audience with its intimacy and grace.

An eclectic collection of just over ten videos were screened, each with clear objectives but little meaning. Most were aesthetically pleasing, though a few still procured a ‘what the hell am I watching?’ The audience were obviously well acquainted and unabashed: heckling from the festival coordinators lent the evening a comfortable informality, though it was Wild’s use of Holden Hands’ beats that formed such a distinct community atmosphere. 

Details: One Minute Film Festival was shown at The Money bin at 10pm on Wednesday March 19, 2014.

Bio: Grace Flanagan is an undergraduate student at ANU who traditionally pens short-fiction. She’s been grabbed by an octopus and found $50 in the ocean. Her life’s goal is to perform a handstand unassisted.

Image by Chase McCormack

Making liberal use of words like academic, cerebral, socio-cultural, and modernity, one might assume that Barker’s performance was one of petty technicalities and fanatical pedantry, but this couldn’t be further from the truth.

I Gave My Soul to Rock ‘n’ Roll begins with a tale of a younger Max Barker spending his hard earned pay at Sanity in the Belconnen mall. Should he buy a new release for $30? Or should he “delve further into the canon” and search through the classics? Almost immediately Barker’s passion was obvious, and strangely infectious.

Central to his performance was the idea that popular music has a cyclical and self-referential nature. 1970s punk harkened back to 50s rock ‘n’ roll, grunge in turn harkened back to 1970s punk. The Jam were mod revival, referencing the mods of the late 50s and early 60s, and Blur had an album in the 90s called Modern Life is Rubbish; a “mod revival revival?” Barker asks.

Perhaps the weakest moment in I Gave My Soul to Rock ‘n’ Roll came with a somewhat trite description of music as a soundtrack to our lives. A song for our first kiss, the first time we fall in love, and yes, a song for when our hearts are broken. Barker’s sincerity and delivery went a long way to compensating for the clichéd concept, but there was a sense that it had all been said before.

The highlight of the evening came in the form of Barker’s depiction, in almost rambling poetry, of being at a pub, packed on a Sunday afternoon or dead on a Tuesday night, right before the band starts to play. “It was four clicks of the drum sticks,” he said before repeating the phrase, its inherent rhythm and rhyme made more musical by the repetition.

I Gave My Soul to Rock ‘n’ Roll and Didn’t Charge Anything may not have been the most ground-breaking thing at You Are Here, but it was entertaining and it certainly stuck a chord, with many laughs, approving nods, and sympathetic smiles emanating from all present at Smith’s Alternative.

Rock ‘n’ roll is “an experiential thing, it’s a visceral thing,” mused Barker, nearing his conclusion. “Do you dance?” he asked with a smile, “I always dance.”

Details: I Gave My Soul to Rock ‘n’ Roll and Didn’t Charge Anything was performed at The Money Bin on Sunday March 16, and at Smith’s Alternative on Tuesday March 18.

Bio: Born and raised in Canberra, Dylan Slater always had two passions; writing and music. He pursued both throughout his schooling and was awarded a Certificate of Excellence for Outstanding Achievement in the Performance Arts for his grades in music, and became a published author in the 2009 Lit Links creative writing anthology. Dylan recently graduated with a Bachelor of Arts from the University of Canberra, majoring in Journalism, Creative Writing, and Sociology. Dylan still pursues his passions, regularly contributing to Canberra based music review websiteDirtygal.co and playing music whenever and wherever he can. His favourite book is Catch-22 and his favourite album is Disintegration.

Image by Adam Thomas

Devised by Nathan Harrison and Jake Pember, The Mayfly Project is a delicate performance work currently showing at Smith’s Alternative Bookshop as part of You Are Here. A combination of lecture, forum and theatrical storytelling, The Mayfly Project encourages audiences to think big about environmental sustainability and the ways to achieve it.

Harrison and Pember begin by introducing the character of Alex, a young mayfly who has just entered adulthood. Alex has a lifespan of 45 minutes. Harrison and Pember then introduce two clocks, (the closest thing to a set that the performance has):

Clock #1: a projection of an analog clock is shown on the ceiling indicating the time.

Clock #2: a projection of the map of Canberra on the side wall that indicates the furthest you could travel using Canberra’s public transport in the time remaining during the production (which coincides with when Alex the mayfly will die). The area shrinks slowly as the minutes go by.

While the clocks are enchanting, they lose their appeal when audience members have to crane their necks to the ceiling and side wall every time they are referred to throughout the performance.

Staged with minimal lighting and sound, Harrison and Pember manage to craft a simple yet remarkable sensory experience. The audience are asked to close their eyes, count to a minute and then open them again. Harrison and Pember take us into a trance. This simple action skews all sense of time, with some audience members keeping their eyes closed until near the two minute mark.

The duo spend the next twenty minutes talking about time itself. They bring up examples such as John Cage’s As Slow as Possible and tell tales of other characters named Alex, this time human, each living lives of different lengths. Then, with 25 minutes remaining until Alex the mayfly retires to her death bed, the two put forward a thought-provoking question: “Are we being good ancestors?”

The performance lecture ends and Smith’s Alternative soon becomes a forum on sustainability. Deep philosophical thoughts pour out of the mouths of well-groomed girls and bearded hipsters, but those with softer voices go unheard over the operational sounds of the venue’s kitchen.

While the performance ended 20 minutes in, I was compelled to stay for the 45 minute life cycle of the mayfly, despite my personal disengagement from the forum.

Details: In just under an hour, Harrison and Pember do well at creating a meditative space, skewing all sense of time to the best of their ability in a cosy and creative venue like Smith’s Alternative. If free didactic performance is your style, I recommend checking out The Mayfly Project at 8:30pm Friday 21 March before its Canberra life cycle comes to a close.

Bio: Coleman Grehan is a freelance theatre artist and music composer currently residing in Canberra, Australia. Born in Singapore and raised in Brisbane, he graduated from Queensland Academy for Creative Industries in 2012 and recently graduated from an internship with Zen Zen Zo Physical Theatre in 2013. He currently is studying a Bachelor of International Relations/Bachelor of Arts at Australian National University. Coleman is currently devising a butoh/live-art piece entitled “HIM” to take up to Brisbane as part of Anywhere Theatre Festival 2014.

Image by Rachel Roberts

Such was the chant in Glitoris‘ final number at this year’s You Are Here, and such was the order of the night last Monday when the all-girl punk rockers gave their sweaty, naked, glittery show to a very full Money Bin.

The relatively small venue was overflowing with punters from all walks of life in the lead up to Glitoris’ first public outing, so much so that the event staff were forced to request that everyone leave while the band set up and sound checked. Punks, goths, hipsters, miscellaneous types, and one guy in a suit stood together in universal anticipation outside the Money Bin’s closed doors, all hopeful they would be allowed back in for the gig.

Unfortunately for some the venue just wasn’t big enough for the crowd that had gathered outside and many were turned away and redirected to the festivities happening at Smith’s Alternative.

Inside, all the furniture had been pushed against the walls to allow for the capacity audience to stand and dance the night away. All in attendance itched in visible excitement and took very little convincing when the announcement came that the band wouldn’t take the stage until everyone was standing.

Many of the more vertically challenged in attendance (myself a prime example) were forced to employ all their ingenuity in finding anything to stand on for a better view. Chairs, milk crates, benches, and the arms of couches all became precarious step ladders while the band played.

The trio took to the stage stark naked, covered in gold body-paint and glitter, to a fanfare of enthusiastic applause. Wwing credit to the late 80s and early 90s, the band sounded larger than the three-piece band should have, all things considered. With pounding drums, raucous guitar, and steady bass, topped off with all three contributing vocals (with some impressive three-part harmonies to boot), it was clear that Glitoris weren’t just there to be looked at, they were there to be listened to.

“Boys, pay close attention,” joked the guitarist joked before launching into a complex stuttering, distorted riff.

Although obviously drawing on sexual imagery, Glitoris weren’t cashing in on their sexual appeal, they were there as musicians with a message of female sexual liberation.

Their all too short and sweet set, stretching to a generous half hour or so, left the audience shouting for more. The girls mercifully acquiesced.

Perhaps the message was that sexuality and sexy don’t have to come at the cost of credibility. Perhaps it was an evening celebrating uninhibited feminine sexuality. Whatever it was, it was fun and all present were more than a little bit entertained.

“I don’t wanna know where I’m gonna find glitter in the morning,” quipped the guitarist, but I got the feeling they didn’t really care. Glitoris wasn’t about the morning after.

Details: Glitoris played in The Money Bin on Monday March 17th, 2014.

Bio: Born and raised in Canberra, Dylan Slater always had two passions; writing and music. He pursued both throughout his schooling and was awarded a Certificate of Excellence for Outstanding Achievement in the Performance Arts for his grades in music, and became a published author in the 2009 Lit Links creative writing anthology. Dylan recently graduated with a Bachelor of Arts from the University of Canberra, majoring in Journalism, Creative Writing, and Sociology. Dylan still pursues his passions, regularly contributing to Canberra based music review website Dirtygal.co and playing music whenever and wherever he can. His favourite book is Catch-22 and his favourite album is Disintegration.

Image by Julia Johnson

Presented at Canberra Museum and Gallery, the performance was viewed through the glass walls of Gallery 4, somewhat removing the audience from a sensorial experience of the moving bodies. This strengthens the sense that Kuzma and Lott are being propelled and sustained by the internal logic of their physicality.

Both performers are seamless dancers and the fluid, spiraling quality of their movement on the floor early in the work disguises its physical complexity and difficulty. The circular form of the movement also links to the first projected image, which resembles the shape of a biological cell.

Later, the vocabulary becomes angular and rhythmic in their bodies, which suggests a transition into the realm of the square. Kuzma and Lott are always satisfyingly detailed and precise, both when moving in and around, affecting each other and when moving in polished unison.

Throughout this first half, the work stays firmly with explicit explorations of the body’s capacity to move with circles, squares and the spectrum between. Still, the work’s opening image continues to resonate in the space: we saw the duo standing beside a projection of a blank square of white light, moving in a repetitive cycle of arm rotations that began in meditative slowness and gradually changed speed and pattern. Existing somewhere in an expressive state between absorption and resolve, Kuzma explains during the Q&A session that followed the show that this material generated a sensation closest to the awe that he felt when he watched a video that emulates the behaviour of the universe’s dark matter.

This same video is projected in the last part of the work while the two bodies stand in front of it in silence and stillness.

The arrival of the performers in final and sustained rest allows the accumulated energy of the work to gradually dissipate. The space is opened up for the audience to witness and experience the awe that Kuzma describes.

The concept behind this work provides the duo with compelling source material and their individual performances are engaging. Yet the work is contained and controlled in its majority. Even when the projection shows triangles being shifted and warped, Kuzma and Lott maintain their honed physicality and the feeling of restraint in their relationship to each other. Having created Square Nebula in only two weeks, a second stage of development would perhaps reveal further possibilities in what is already a strong and embodied work.

Details: Square Nebula was performed on Monday and Tuesday the 13th and 14th of March 2014 at the Canberra Museum and Gallery.

Bio: A VCA Dance graduate and 2013 ArtStart recipient, Kelly Beneforti performs, teaches and choreographs in diverse contexts across the country. Originally from Darwin, she continues to spend time in urban and remote parts of the Northern Territory, notably with Tracks Dance Company. Kelly also maintains professional relationships in Tasmania and Melbourne. In Canberra, Kelly participated in the Soft Landing program with QL2 and last year performed in No Place, an immersive installation work by independent artist Adelina Larsson. This is Kelly’s first experience in review writing, however, she was involved in You Are Here in 2013 as a performer.

Image by Adam Thomas

Cut Snake, written by Amelia Evans and Dan Giovannoni, follows the lives of the craziest trio you’ll ever meet; there’s Kiki (Catherine Davies), a cabaret performer who wants to dance the tango with a bearded lady on Mount Kilimanjaro, Jumper (Kevin Kiernan-Molloy), a young man in love with a snake, and Bob (Julia Billington), the brainiac who figures out the answer to the million dollar question. Arthur Productions have crafted a wondrous, absurd comedy that still presents a touching coming-of-age narrative.

This quirky hour-long play, presented in partnership with Canberra Youth Theatre (CYT) and Gorman House Arts Centre (GHAC) was performed in CYT’s home studio, C Block Theatre. The blanket fort-like set, together with the intimate small capacity venue exuded a warm and cosy feel. Audience members were offered the opportunity to sit either on the stalls or on a pillow on the floor. As a new arrival to Canberra, this was the first production I’d seen in C Block Theatre, and I was a little disappointed to see how many seats in the stalls had a railing obstructing the view of the stage. Take note: the seats with the best views were at the front or to the very sides of the stalls.

Cut Snake made up for its ‘vanilla-flavoured’ (with the exception of a remarkable scene involving cigarette lighters) sound and lighting design with some serious talent. These actors are also dancers, acrobats, musicians, budding puppeteers and much more. These exemplary performers managed to show a wide variety of talent without the event becoming a variety show. However, Billington, playing Bob, stole the stage with her versatile character work and charismatic stage presence.

Director and devisor Paige Rattray managed to balance comedy with the more poignant moments of the show almost seamlessly. The audience was drawn in from the moment the house lights went down, responding willingly to Kiernan-Molloy’s order to applaud at the beginning of the show.

As well as being a highly entertaining show, Cut Snake thrives on its well crafted narrative. Evans and Giovannoni create a series of strong motifs that reappear throughout the play ever so subtly. Once you leave the theatre, you’ll begin to piece together seemingly absurd scenes and realise that there’s much more to the show than you realised.

Details: Cut Snake was performed at the Gorman House Arts Centre, C Block Theatre, on the 13th and 14th of March, 2014. Unlike many events at You Are Here Festival 2014, it came with a cost but for the mere price of $20, this production was well worth the value.

Bio: Coleman Grehan is a freelance theatre artist and music composer currently residing in Canberra, Australia. Born in Singapore and raised in Brisbane, he graduated from Queensland Academy for Creative Industries in 2012 and recently graduated from an internship with Zen Zen Zo Physical Theatre in 2013. He currently is studying a Bachelor of International Relations/Bachelor of Arts at Australian National University. Coleman is currently devising a butoh/live-art piece entitled “HIM” to take up to Brisbane as part of Anywhere Theatre Festival 2014.

Image by Arthur Productions