A car crash and giant hand that looks like Donald Trump – Dark Mofo is back
Clearly there is something deep within each of us that wants to make our emotions heard by all around – babies and toddlers do it until societal conditioning teaches them to quieten down, to find new channels of expression, to live more interiorly. And so the screaming changes form; perhaps it turns into high blood pressure, into running marathons, into smashing out angry words anonymously on a keyboard.
In his artwork Neon Anthem, however, Nicholas Galanin invites all who see his light-up sign to take a step back. 'I've composed a new national anthem,' the bright white words read. 'Take a knee and scream until you can't breathe.'
The newest iteration of the work – minus the word 'American' before 'anthem' that has appeared in other versions – is on display as part of this year's Dark Mofo arts festival. The words loom large over a series of mats laid out on the floor, and all around me people are doing as asked; dropping to their knees and making themselves heard.
New artistic director Chris Twite has had to wait a little longer than expected to helm his inaugural festival, but after hitting pause in 2024, Dark Mofo is back, with the Hobart-based arts festival bringing together visual art, music, performance and a series of experiences and experiments that don't fit neatly into a category.
Perched atop one building is a giant hand with a face on it. 'It looks like Trump,' a friend insisted. 'No, it looks like Elon Musk,' another shot back. Actually, it's neither – Quasi by artist Ronnie van Hout is apparently a self-portrait of sorts. The last time I saw it was on its last day in Wellington, New Zealand – at the time, where the polarising work would be heading to next remained a mystery. 'Oh is that not normally there?' a passer-by says, attention drawn by all the people stopping to take photos.
One of the key events of the first weekend of the festival was Crash Body, a work by artist Paula Garcia which saw two cars – one driven by a stunt driver and the other by the artist herself – collide after a series of increasingly tense near misses. To get to the event you needed to walk through Dark Park, a hub of different works including Neon Anthem, down a narrow pathway, past a car suspended by a crane, before trying to find a good vantage point in the crowd.
Over the course of about half an hour, the two cars danced and wove around each other, sliding through puddles as the soundtrack amplified the tension. The crash itself came suddenly, much earlier than expected, the windows of both vehicles blowing out. 'Aggh I wasn't filming,' said a voice to the right of me. The voice's owner and the friends they came with left before seeing if Garcia had safely left her vehicle.
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Sydney Morning Herald
22 minutes ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
This year, dating apps died. What's next doesn't have to be scary
When Selani Adikari's 10-year-long relationship with her school sweetheart came to an end, it was more difficult than she had anticipated. But that's less about saying goodbye to her first love and more to do with unexpectedly having to navigate Australia's brutal dating scene for the first time at 27. 'It was a very different world,' says Adikari, who had already met her former partner when Tinder was launched in late 2012, revolutionising how a whole generation embarked on relationships. 'We were friends first before we started dating when we were so young … I never went through a dating phase of trying to meet people outside my circles.' What Adikari has discovered as a bachelorette is something shareholders of Match Group – owner of Tinder, Hinge and Bumble, which dropped from $US3.75 billion in revenue in 2015 to $US2.08 billion in 2024 – are fretting over. Singles, due to unsatisfactory algorithms, safety concerns, a 'gamified' swipe-based match process, general fatigue or otherwise, are feeling the need to break up with dating apps. But the exodus offline is not the be-all and end-all solution. Rather, it's exposed another obstacle the modern lovelorn have to climb in their quest to settle down. 'People are hesitant to walk up to someone new and strike up a conversation – you kind of just stick to who you know,' says Adikari. The Sydney-based project manager finds dating apps time-consuming and impersonal, but with her friends already spoken for and a general lack of spontaneous face-to-face socialisation, there haven't been many opportunities to organically expand her pool of prospects. 'It's so much easier to hide behind your phone now than go up to somebody in person and take a risk.' Loading The lost art of the approach Heterosexual courtship in Australia has taken many different forms, but what remained consistent across Regency-era promenades, Blue Light discos, radio classifieds and beyond was public performance. Until the age of the internet. 'It's a very modern thing to think of courtship as something that happens privately between people,' says Dr Esmé Louise James, the sex historian, author and content creator behind Kinky History. 'Courtship has always been something that family, friends, the public community will know about. If a man is courting a woman in any sense, whether it was 200 years ago… or more recently… if you're at RSLs, it's very likely that a community is involved in and knows about the courtship and its stages.' Social events, including regional and rural Australia's B&S balls (now with ute musters), are still held, and those with means are taking to hiring matchmakers and dating coaches. The opportunity to meet people in real life – perhaps aside from the pandemic – has not wavered, but what's become apparent is that with every swipe right on a potential partner came a swipe left on practicing the panache, and resilience in the face of rejection, that's pivotal to successfully seizing the moment. Little by little, the art of the approach has been eroded. Dating coach Damien Diecke, who founded School of Attraction in 2009 for 'men with integrity', says he's noticed an increased aversion to social risk since the advent of mobile phones. Loading 'We get to be socially isolated, but more connected than ever,' says Diecke. 'But we can take risks [online] we don't dare to take [in real life].' Diecke says he's seen a dramatic surge in men struggling with their dating lives reaching out to him, and a corresponding rise in the number of men who fear retribution, such as being called out on social media and its consequences, should they approach women. He blames Andrew Tate's Manosphere and its misandrist counterpart, The Femosphere, both of which prioritise clickbait content for engagement over fact. 'What's real to us is what we see. And if all you see is women degrading guys who do anything, even if it's relatively harmless, then you will feel like that's real,' says Diecke. 'But when you start having the real-life experiences, it overrides it.' Diecke generally does not see the social media narrative that publicly shames men's looks, wealth and status, or promises retribution for their approach, play out in real life. In his experience, it's the opposite: women want men to approach them more than they are. And if they're delivering a rejection, it's polite. 'My guys aren't being rude either – they're being gracious, they're being friendly and they're being non-threatening,' says Diecke. He teaches his clients to approach only if it's contextually appropriate, go in alone, stay out of their personal space and walk away at the first sign of discomfort. Loading 'But I never see it. I never see women go 'how disgusting, how could you ever talk to me?' ... No, it's 'sorry, I've got a boyfriend,' or 'hey, we're having a girls night'... they're not upset.' Relationship and intimacy coach Susie Kim has also noticed an increase in people who are concerned about being seen as a predator, but, she says, 'the funny thing is, the guys who are actually worried about that are … actually not the creeps, and … the guys who are still out there being creepy, they're not worried about it.' Kim says the rise of social media and dating apps, as with anything, is a double-edged sword. It may help the 'queer kid from Shepparton' find community, but it's also created younger generations who are more image-conscious than their predecessors. Mix in the depersonalisation of constant swiping, she says, and you have the perfect base to bury the inclination for vulnerability under – and to build a propensity to dismiss a book for its cover on top. Dr Lisa Portolan, whose PhD at Western Sydney University examined dating apps and intimacy in the digital landscape, agrees. 'The fact that people feel like they have to sift through so many people, and it becomes a second job for them, certainly does put up a lot of boundaries for people in terms of actually meeting someone for intimacy,' says Portolan. 'A lot of people within my research would indicate that they had become more judgmental on dating apps, and this would extend to a real-world environment because they felt like they were swiping so quickly and making split-second decisions.' Separately, Connect Social founder Lisa, who wants to be known only by her first name, launched the NSW Central Coast singles event service five years after the end of her marriage. Lisa does not post photos from the events she hosts on social media to avoid creating 'an expectation of who and what will be there'. Loading 'I think a lot of times with internet dating, it's a case of… you build these expectations of what you think someone will be in-person based off a couple of photos and some messages or texts,' Lisa says. 'Then when you actually meet them, there's a disappointment because it's not what you thought it would be. Whereas in-person events, you're avoiding all of that because you're meeting them straight away.' That's if you can psych yourself up to get through the door. Does anyone know how to flirt any more? You'd think singles events would be the perfect environment to apply the art of the approach and finesse flirting, but with so many obstacles to forming a meaningful connection outside of them – social risk aversion, image-consciousness, judgmental singles and a lack of vulnerability – they can become quite high-stakes events, and that's daunting. 'You feel the pressure of, 'oh my gosh, I should meet somebody because everybody's single,'' says Adikari, who, after three years of dating apps, created Pitch Perfect Match, a dating service in Sydney in which friends create a presentation and pitch their single friends to a room of fellow singles, who are also with their friends. 'When you're around people that you're comfortable with, you feel more relaxed to be yourself rather than get all in your head and nervous,' says Adikari. 'Hopefully [Pitch Perfect Match is] not as intense as going alone or being intimidated by the fact that everybody's single.' So is the solution truly going back to the good old days and having face-to-face conversations with mutual friends? Maybe. But of course, it's not that simple. Is going back to pre-technology days the way forward? The problem with that dialogue, says James, is that it 'so quickly slips into this more insidious, conservative dialogue that is idolising traditional times.' While it is true that feminism has blurred the line between each gender's widely accepted role in courtship (which Diecke says contributes to his clients' hesitancy to approach women), James says the 'traditional times that we think about never actually existed in the way we thought they did'. Loading The idea of women and men conforming to gender roles in a specific time period, James says, is a 'made-up fantasy'. And although women not being allowed out courting without a chaperone – a la Bridgerton – was designed to keep them safe, James says there was also 'a very dark side of that when it comes to policing genders and performance of what it means to be a woman itself.' Regency-era courting in general, James says, was 'not the romantic ideal that you thought it was'. 'You may have spoken to the man of your dreams, but yes, you then had to go behind a corner of the ballroom and pee into a chamber pot,' James laughs. 'It wasn't all that great. And he probably smelt foul.' It's not all doom and gloom Modern hygiene practices are not the only reason why this new era of dating could be 'very exciting', according to James, who says we have the benefit of going back to face-to-face connection but 'with the understanding of safety and consent and education that we've also developed over the last two decades [since online dating].' One group that is thriving dating-wise is the LGBTQIA+ community, which James, who is queer, attributes to the fact it has already 'done the groundwork in building community' out of necessity. Now a point of empowerment, those third spaces – get-togethers, celebrations, dances 'just for the sake of being in a room and seeing one another' – started because they were excluded from traditional courtship, and is now being emulated by heteronormative Australians (see: Sydney Swans' Match Day Mingle or the run club resurgence). What comes next is adapting to the evolving dating culture, an important part of which, says clinical sexologist Daz Alexandera Tendler of the Australian Institute of Sexology and Sexual Medicine, is communicating clearly and being 'up front with what you want'. Loading 'Everyone has very different concepts of what dating actually means,' says Tendler, noting the importance of being compassionate when expressing your desires and asking your partner how they define dating and what they're looking for. Although it seems like everything has changed, in a way, nothing has changed at all. Tendler, after all, advises leading with 'intentionality, boundaries, [and] respect' when seeking a partner. Diecke, meanwhile, calls for empathy, and Kim highlights the importance of embracing emotional intimacy. Those traits are as timeless as the need for the art of the approach itself. 'You're just starting up a conversation,' says Kim. 'I think that's the thing about approaching and flirting in real life. You're just being curious and getting to know this person and seeing if you enjoy speaking to them. There's nothing really else that needs to happen ... And if it goes nowhere, you just had a nice conversation and that's it.'
The Age
22 minutes ago
- The Age
This year, dating apps died. What's next doesn't have to be scary
When Selani Adikari's 10-year-long relationship with her school sweetheart came to an end, it was more difficult than she had anticipated. But that's less about saying goodbye to her first love and more to do with unexpectedly having to navigate Australia's brutal dating scene for the first time at 27. 'It was a very different world,' says Adikari, who had already met her former partner when Tinder was launched in late 2012, revolutionising how a whole generation embarked on relationships. 'We were friends first before we started dating when we were so young … I never went through a dating phase of trying to meet people outside my circles.' What Adikari has discovered as a bachelorette is something shareholders of Match Group – owner of Tinder, Hinge and Bumble, which dropped from $US3.75 billion in revenue in 2015 to $US2.08 billion in 2024 – are fretting over. Singles, due to unsatisfactory algorithms, safety concerns, a 'gamified' swipe-based match process, general fatigue or otherwise, are feeling the need to break up with dating apps. But the exodus offline is not the be-all and end-all solution. Rather, it's exposed another obstacle the modern lovelorn have to climb in their quest to settle down. 'People are hesitant to walk up to someone new and strike up a conversation – you kind of just stick to who you know,' says Adikari. The Sydney-based project manager finds dating apps time-consuming and impersonal, but with her friends already spoken for and a general lack of spontaneous face-to-face socialisation, there haven't been many opportunities to organically expand her pool of prospects. 'It's so much easier to hide behind your phone now than go up to somebody in person and take a risk.' Loading The lost art of the approach Heterosexual courtship in Australia has taken many different forms, but what remained consistent across Regency-era promenades, Blue Light discos, radio classifieds and beyond was public performance. Until the age of the internet. 'It's a very modern thing to think of courtship as something that happens privately between people,' says Dr Esmé Louise James, the sex historian, author and content creator behind Kinky History. 'Courtship has always been something that family, friends, the public community will know about. If a man is courting a woman in any sense, whether it was 200 years ago… or more recently… if you're at RSLs, it's very likely that a community is involved in and knows about the courtship and its stages.' Social events, including regional and rural Australia's B&S balls (now with ute musters), are still held, and those with means are taking to hiring matchmakers and dating coaches. The opportunity to meet people in real life – perhaps aside from the pandemic – has not wavered, but what's become apparent is that with every swipe right on a potential partner came a swipe left on practicing the panache, and resilience in the face of rejection, that's pivotal to successfully seizing the moment. Little by little, the art of the approach has been eroded. Dating coach Damien Diecke, who founded School of Attraction in 2009 for 'men with integrity', says he's noticed an increased aversion to social risk since the advent of mobile phones. Loading 'We get to be socially isolated, but more connected than ever,' says Diecke. 'But we can take risks [online] we don't dare to take [in real life].' Diecke says he's seen a dramatic surge in men struggling with their dating lives reaching out to him, and a corresponding rise in the number of men who fear retribution, such as being called out on social media and its consequences, should they approach women. He blames Andrew Tate's Manosphere and its misandrist counterpart, The Femosphere, both of which prioritise clickbait content for engagement over fact. 'What's real to us is what we see. And if all you see is women degrading guys who do anything, even if it's relatively harmless, then you will feel like that's real,' says Diecke. 'But when you start having the real-life experiences, it overrides it.' Diecke generally does not see the social media narrative that publicly shames men's looks, wealth and status, or promises retribution for their approach, play out in real life. In his experience, it's the opposite: women want men to approach them more than they are. And if they're delivering a rejection, it's polite. 'My guys aren't being rude either – they're being gracious, they're being friendly and they're being non-threatening,' says Diecke. He teaches his clients to approach only if it's contextually appropriate, go in alone, stay out of their personal space and walk away at the first sign of discomfort. Loading 'But I never see it. I never see women go 'how disgusting, how could you ever talk to me?' ... No, it's 'sorry, I've got a boyfriend,' or 'hey, we're having a girls night'... they're not upset.' Relationship and intimacy coach Susie Kim has also noticed an increase in people who are concerned about being seen as a predator, but, she says, 'the funny thing is, the guys who are actually worried about that are … actually not the creeps, and … the guys who are still out there being creepy, they're not worried about it.' Kim says the rise of social media and dating apps, as with anything, is a double-edged sword. It may help the 'queer kid from Shepparton' find community, but it's also created younger generations who are more image-conscious than their predecessors. Mix in the depersonalisation of constant swiping, she says, and you have the perfect base to bury the inclination for vulnerability under – and to build a propensity to dismiss a book for its cover on top. Dr Lisa Portolan, whose PhD at Western Sydney University examined dating apps and intimacy in the digital landscape, agrees. 'The fact that people feel like they have to sift through so many people, and it becomes a second job for them, certainly does put up a lot of boundaries for people in terms of actually meeting someone for intimacy,' says Portolan. 'A lot of people within my research would indicate that they had become more judgmental on dating apps, and this would extend to a real-world environment because they felt like they were swiping so quickly and making split-second decisions.' Separately, Connect Social founder Lisa, who wants to be known only by her first name, launched the NSW Central Coast singles event service five years after the end of her marriage. Lisa does not post photos from the events she hosts on social media to avoid creating 'an expectation of who and what will be there'. Loading 'I think a lot of times with internet dating, it's a case of… you build these expectations of what you think someone will be in-person based off a couple of photos and some messages or texts,' Lisa says. 'Then when you actually meet them, there's a disappointment because it's not what you thought it would be. Whereas in-person events, you're avoiding all of that because you're meeting them straight away.' That's if you can psych yourself up to get through the door. Does anyone know how to flirt any more? You'd think singles events would be the perfect environment to apply the art of the approach and finesse flirting, but with so many obstacles to forming a meaningful connection outside of them – social risk aversion, image-consciousness, judgmental singles and a lack of vulnerability – they can become quite high-stakes events, and that's daunting. 'You feel the pressure of, 'oh my gosh, I should meet somebody because everybody's single,'' says Adikari, who, after three years of dating apps, created Pitch Perfect Match, a dating service in Sydney in which friends create a presentation and pitch their single friends to a room of fellow singles, who are also with their friends. 'When you're around people that you're comfortable with, you feel more relaxed to be yourself rather than get all in your head and nervous,' says Adikari. 'Hopefully [Pitch Perfect Match is] not as intense as going alone or being intimidated by the fact that everybody's single.' So is the solution truly going back to the good old days and having face-to-face conversations with mutual friends? Maybe. But of course, it's not that simple. Is going back to pre-technology days the way forward? The problem with that dialogue, says James, is that it 'so quickly slips into this more insidious, conservative dialogue that is idolising traditional times.' While it is true that feminism has blurred the line between each gender's widely accepted role in courtship (which Diecke says contributes to his clients' hesitancy to approach women), James says the 'traditional times that we think about never actually existed in the way we thought they did'. Loading The idea of women and men conforming to gender roles in a specific time period, James says, is a 'made-up fantasy'. And although women not being allowed out courting without a chaperone – a la Bridgerton – was designed to keep them safe, James says there was also 'a very dark side of that when it comes to policing genders and performance of what it means to be a woman itself.' Regency-era courting in general, James says, was 'not the romantic ideal that you thought it was'. 'You may have spoken to the man of your dreams, but yes, you then had to go behind a corner of the ballroom and pee into a chamber pot,' James laughs. 'It wasn't all that great. And he probably smelt foul.' It's not all doom and gloom Modern hygiene practices are not the only reason why this new era of dating could be 'very exciting', according to James, who says we have the benefit of going back to face-to-face connection but 'with the understanding of safety and consent and education that we've also developed over the last two decades [since online dating].' One group that is thriving dating-wise is the LGBTQIA+ community, which James, who is queer, attributes to the fact it has already 'done the groundwork in building community' out of necessity. Now a point of empowerment, those third spaces – get-togethers, celebrations, dances 'just for the sake of being in a room and seeing one another' – started because they were excluded from traditional courtship, and is now being emulated by heteronormative Australians (see: Sydney Swans' Match Day Mingle or the run club resurgence). What comes next is adapting to the evolving dating culture, an important part of which, says clinical sexologist Daz Alexandera Tendler of the Australian Institute of Sexology and Sexual Medicine, is communicating clearly and being 'up front with what you want'. Loading 'Everyone has very different concepts of what dating actually means,' says Tendler, noting the importance of being compassionate when expressing your desires and asking your partner how they define dating and what they're looking for. Although it seems like everything has changed, in a way, nothing has changed at all. Tendler, after all, advises leading with 'intentionality, boundaries, [and] respect' when seeking a partner. Diecke, meanwhile, calls for empathy, and Kim highlights the importance of embracing emotional intimacy. Those traits are as timeless as the need for the art of the approach itself. 'You're just starting up a conversation,' says Kim. 'I think that's the thing about approaching and flirting in real life. You're just being curious and getting to know this person and seeing if you enjoy speaking to them. There's nothing really else that needs to happen ... And if it goes nowhere, you just had a nice conversation and that's it.'
Sky News AU
9 hours ago
- Sky News AU
Gladiator star Russell Crowe breaks silence over infamous 2005 phone-throwing incident in New York City
Russell Crowe has candidly opened up on his infamous 2005 phone-throwing incident which saw the Australian film star charged with assault. Crowe, 61, spent six hours in jail before being charged with second-degree assault and criminal possession of a weapon after he threw a telephone at the concierge of New York's Mercer Hotel in 2005. The concierge, who was treated for a facial laceration, had refused to place a long-distance call to Crowe's then-wife, Danielle Spencer, in Sydney after the system did not work from the Gladiator actor's room. The NYPD were called and subsequently arrested Crowe before famously parading him around the streets of New York in handcuffs. The scene was splashed across the front of international newspapers. In a stunning turn of events, Crowe on Sunday featured footage of his arrest in technicolour in a film clip with his band The Gentleman Barbers. He reflected on his arguably darkest hour in the lyrics of the new hit Save Me, crooning: 'I pushed away my loved ones until I had nobody else.' 'I burned all of my friends like cheap sex and cigarettes in this hotel – who's going to save me, who's going to save me from myself?' Speaking to The Daily Telegraph, Crowe said although he regretted the 2005 scandal, his feeling of remorse had taught him an important lesson. 'I am a fan of regret,' Crowe told the newspaper on Sunday. 'I see it as a great teacher, so there's a lot of regrets based around that (incident), but it is nothing that I don't understand'. Crowe said that upon reaching his 60s, he can forgive his 'bad days' and championed his belief that people should embrace their guilt. 'I'm not at all one of those people that say you shouldn't have regrets, I absolutely respect regret…regret is one of the greatest processes. 'The thing is, with regret, you can't hang it on the wall like a painting, you know, it's more ephemeral, you see it, you recognise it and you move on, you grow, you get better, you get smarter with how you deal with things." After his arrest, a US judge conditionally discharged Crowe, who had pleaded guilty in a trial. He was fined but avoided jail time. The actor also settled a lawsuit filed by the injured hotel clerk, the terms of which are undisclosed, but reports indicate a six-figure sum was paid. Appearing on a US TV show in August 2005, the Oscar-winning actor said the hotel incident was "possibly the most shameful situation that I've ever gotten myself I've done some pretty dumb things in my life". He said the outburst was the result of "jet lag, loneliness and adrenaline". Crowe separated from Danielle Spencer in 2012 after 9 years of marriage, and their divorce was finalised in 2018. The pair share two sons, Charles Spencer Crowe, 22 and Tennyson Spencer Crowe, 19. Crowe reportedly married his American fiancée, Britney Theriot, in a discreet ceremony in London in April. The couple split their time between Sydney and Coffs Harbour, where Crowe is building a $400 million film studio, dubbed 'Aussiewood'. He also owns a 400-hectare property called Wild Guy Station in nearby Nana Glen and regularly retreats there when not filming.
