Latest news with #RisingFestival
SBS Australia
a day ago
- Entertainment
- SBS Australia
'I do this s*** for a living': The competition that rewards you for doing absolutely nothing
The Space Out competition awards a winner who has the lowest heart rate and best costume. Source: SBS News / Madeleine Wedesweiler An engineer, a fountain with warm running water, a Japanese elder, two rival Teletubbies and an actual labrador — these were some of the "athletes" in the running for the winner of Melbourne's competition to be the best at doing absolutely nothing. The Space Out contest, part of the city's winter Rising Festival, crowns its champion based on who can maintain the lowest heart rate for 90 minutes, as competitors veg out in a public space. Participants have their heart rate measured by doctors every 15 minutes to capture their technical score, and can be awarded points for their costumes and vibe — their artistic score. There is a somewhat serious element along with the novelty. South Korean artist Woopsyang first ran the competition in Seoul in 2014 to make a statement about hustle culture and burnout. This year in Melbourne, with perhaps the most elaborate costume of the day and certainly the only to use running water and electricity, local puppeteer Amelia took home the winner's certificate, dressed as a fountain. Sitting in a pool of water for the event's duration, Amelia had two helpers heating the water with kettles to help manage the cold conditions caused by polar air across southeastern Australia. But the event's presenters speculated the water lowered her heart rate — cold water is known to slow the body's blood pressure and heart rate and can eventually lead to hypothermia and possibly death from prolonged exposure. "I chose to do a puppet that uses water as I think it is the laziest of all elements, t always finds the path of least resistance," Amelia told SBS News before the competition started. "My strategy is to imagine that I am a sea sponge." In her winner's speech Amelia dedicated the win to the fountain in her grandmother's garden. "It's where she likes to sit and experience serenity. [I dedicate this] to everyone here as well, we are all fountains from when we wake up and take a shower until, well, when we next take a shower." Runner-up was Anthony, a man who initially claimed to be an engineer and was dressed as one, but then said he lied and he's unemployed. Tiggolo, a retired seeing-eye dog, was awarded third place for his very low heart rate and zen nature. The black Labrador's owner said he was keen to chill out after his years of service, though around 5pm (his dinner time) he nearly lost composure, but gained it and stared deeply into her eyes. Another puppet costume, with a giant paper mache head that took two months to make, was awarded the "special prize". Participants were required to write a statement about why they were competing and audience members could place a vote on their answers in the form of red stickers. "Full time sofa coder. I do this shit for a living," one wrote. "ADHD sisters about to enter their mind palace," said another. "90 minutes of quiet dress ups and keeping kids entertained," said a clever parent. "I want to learn to space out to teach my children that it's already wonderful and valuable to just BE!" reads a much-stickered statement. Woopsyang cultivated an air of mystique, wearing sunglasses, a white, Korean hanbok-inspired dress and black hat, and silently walking onstage to unveil huge scrolls with messages for participants just before the competition starts. "Sometimes doing nothing can be the most powerful and valuable act," the first scroll reads. After she revealed all the scrolls and called sequined performer Gabi Barton onstage to lead some stretching, the still-silent Woopsyang rang a tiny bell into a microphone to commence the competition. Informed by hardcore work culture in some Asian countries, Woopsyang has toured the Space Out competition to other cities including Tokyo, Hong Kong and Shanghai — this is its first time in Australia. "Normally Asians think that Western people are very chilled and relaxed, have their nice lifestyle, but then when I came to Melbourne a few days ago and saw people coming and going and rushing, I figured out even in Melbourne, life is so busy and everyone is very overwhelmed," she told SBS News through an interpreter. Recent research indicates two in five Australian workers began 2025 already feeling burnt out, and 90 per cent of Australian employees feel that burnout is ignored until it becomes critical. Burnout is an "occupational phenomenon", not a medical condition, according to the World Health Organization's (WHO) 2019 definition. The WHO says it typically presents as exhaustion, negative feelings towards one's job, and reduced professional productivity. Woopsyang wanted the event to represent all different ages and professions, as though she was creating a miniature city where everyone was spacing out together. "Ten years ago when I was working as an artist, I felt so burnt out, and so overwhelmed. "I was interrogating myself: 'Why do I feel so much anxiety? Why can't I stop, why can't I pause?' "But then I thought everyone who surrounded me was still busy and doing other stuff and so I thought what if we all need to stop and then we can all take a break and recover," she said. Woopsyang said the Melbourne event is now her favourite and almost brought her to tears because of how well everyone performed, though the first iteration will always have a special place in her heart. But 10 years later, she says she's busier and has much less time to space out than ever before. Her own advice might be helpful for that — to find moments of appreciation, calm and stillness throughout the day, wherever you can. Share this with family and friends
The Guardian
5 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Latex, Teletubbies and Miranda July: putting my way through feminist mini-golf course Swingers
When I was a child, my friend's dog had puppies and she invited us all over to meet them, then go for a round of mini-golf. She called it pat pat putt putt, and it was the most legendary game of mini-golf I'd ever played. Until now. Swingers, the interactive exhibition central to this year's Rising festival, brings a dash of whimsy and weirdness to the game. Each of the nine holes is designed by a different female artist in homage to the sport's little-known feminist history: created in 1867 when women were barred from playing the main game at St Andrews links in Scotland. As curator Grace Herbert says on the Swingers preview night: 'We think of [mini golf] as silly, childlike and infantilising – but it has a subversive history.' In the cavernous space of Flinders Street ballroom – a hidden section of the train station that lay dormant for decades and now Rising's go-to venue for quirky art events – this playful, and playable, exhibition comes to life. The ballroom's peeling walls and eerie hallways are a well suited match, with most of the courses accessed through doorways along the hall, like portals into different worlds. The rules: there's a 10-stroke limit, you can move your ball one club-length from the edge of the course without penalty, and an out-of-bounds ball can be placed at the point of exit with a one-stroke penalty. My friend and I decide we will approach it much like any game of mini-golf. There are no scorecards, so we make one in the Notes app then rapidly abandon it. In the first room, Yankunytjatjara artist Kaylene Whiskey has created a colourful and charming ode to her childhood and pop culture: Dolly Parton and Cathy Freeman stand alongside a Greyhound bus, which Whiskey travelled in to attend golf tournaments as a child. It's straightforward – I sink my ball in three putts. Still got it! But the first hole lulled me into a false sense of security. At the second hole, designed by Natasha Tontey, I place my ball through a Devo hat and try to hit it into an adjoining room. Other people's balls bounce off mine, moving it further away from the goal. I decide that I should keep my day job. I don't even sink the ball before I move on. From there, it only gets loopier, and the game becomes almost secondary to immersing yourself in each wild world. Australian artist Pat Brassington riffs on a carnival classic to create a creepy course that I can't get away from quickly enough (compliment). The old adage about trying to fit a square peg in a round hole is taken literally by British artist Delaine Le Bas (an extremely difficult and very funny hole). Experimental film duo Soda Jerk contributes one of the more disturbing works – you'll never look at Teletubbies in the same way again. And Singaporean-Australian sculptor Nabilah Nordin creates a beautiful house made of bread, but the slippery plywood floors make the game tricky. The signature latex of Tokyo artist Saeborg manifests in us donning wearable ears and tails, the latter of which becomes a makeshift golf club. Another friend there calls this hole the most stressful experience he's ever had, and gives us a hot tip about which tail to choose. We absolutely smash it, hitting the large foam balls into the goal twice in the 90-second allotted time period. Maybe there is a future for me in sport after all. Sign up for the fun stuff with our rundown of must-reads, pop culture and tips for the weekend, every Saturday morning But it's not really about winning. US rapper Bktherula's hole is easy to sink with a single stroke, but players are encouraged not to aim for that as hitting the ball against obstacles produces different sounds. The final hole is designed by US writer and film-maker Miranda July: you launch your ball through a large wave and it rolls to a maze of different paths, each of which has a flag with life advice on it. 'You are insulting yourself in ways you find insulting. Insult a hat like that and I promise the hat will cry. Today you stop,' reads one. It's a bit live, laugh, love for my liking, but they're sweet and earnest, and we could all probably use that at the moment. When we run around to see which words of wisdom we've received, it's too late – the balls have gone, and we don't know which holes they've sunk into. As we exit the ballroom, I think to myself that we've gained some wisdom regardless: art can and should be fun, weirdness is wonder, and the scenic route is always worth taking. Swingers: the Art of Mini-Golf is open in Melbourne's Flinders St Ballroom as part of Rising festival until 31 August
RNZ News
01-06-2025
- Entertainment
- RNZ News
Doing nothing becomes a competitive sport
A competition to see who's best at doing nothing will be one of the highlights at the Melbourne Rising Festival. The Space Out event will last 90 minutes and participants have to excel at doing nothing while treating it like a competitive sport. In a world that glorifies hustle culture and productivity, this is encouraging the opposite. First held in 2014, South Korean artist Woopsyang set up the exhibition when she herself was struggling with burnout. It has since gone viral around the world travelling to Taiwan, Rotterdam, Hong Kong, Tokyo and now Melbourne. The Rising Festival celebrates new art, music and performance in the city. Culture 101 speaks to co-artistic director, Hannah Fox, who saw the Space Out event in Tokyo and has brought it to Melbourne.
The Guardian
23-05-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
‘I was sure salvation lay in art': Marina Otero on death, dance and mental illness
Long ago, Marina Otero decided she would film her life until she dies, as part of an attempt to understand her pain and her preoccupation with death. 'I was sure that salvation lay in art,' she says. So when she suffered a mental breakdown in 2022, the Argentinian choreographer decided to keep recording. 'It seemed interesting to me, recording the darkest parts of a person,' Otero tells Guardian over Zoom from Madrid, where she is based. Her breakdown had several causes, she says: 'The cliche of the midlife crisis, coupled with unstable travel and a relationship with a narcissistic man, which exacerbated my longstanding dependence on men and fear of loneliness.' Afterwards, she was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder. Otero drew on her breakdown footage to create Kill Me, her show about 'madness for love' (or, as she puts it, 'locura por amor'), coming to Australia in June as part of Melbourne's Rising festival. In it, she and four female dancers – each with their own experiences of mental illness – share stories and re-enact painful experiences, in what Otero describes as an 'attempt to poetise mental disorder'. Otero has also incorporated biographical details about love and mental illness from other women she knows. It's more playful than it sounds: there's nude dance numbers, rollerskating and an eclectic soundtrack that ranges from Bach to Miley Cyrus. In one sequence, the four dancers strut the stage nude except for white boots and knee pads, wielding plastic pistols: on a mission to kill romantic love before it kills them. Otero says the decision to cast four women was an ironic comment on the 'mad woman' cultural trope. Each woman was required to have a 'relationship' with a personality disorder in real life; some have their own psychiatric diagnoses. In the show, Otero jokes that she and the dancers together embody the DSM (the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, published by the American Psychiatric Association). Meanwhile, a male dancer channels the spirit of the Russian ballet virtuoso Vaslav Nijinsky, who had schizophrenia. 'His megalomania, which has to do with someone who believes they're special, who is God and speaks to God, that relationship fascinated me,' Otero says. 'I reinvent Nijinsky in the play, that his problem was an excess of love, and excess led to death.' Kill Me, which premiered in France in 2024, is part of Otero's ongoing autobiographical art project Recordar para vivir (Remember to Live), which she has described as 'an endless work about my life in which I am my own object of research'. Kicking off in 2012 with Andrea, the story of a woman who 'danced her whole life to avoid talking about certain things', the body of work has often drawn on Otero's personal archive of footage, as the dancer worked out her traumas and neuroses on stage. Within the Remember to Live cycle, Kill Me is the final instalment of a trilogy of works exploring personal transformation, following Fuck Me (2020) and Love Me (2022). 'Each work somehow confronts me with a way of self-destruction,' Otero says. In Fuck Me, Otero delved into the connection between her family history and Argentina's military dictatorship in the 70s and 80s. Otero's grandfather, who died when she was 15, had been a naval intelligence officer during that era. 'He had told me that there are 'secrets that are kept until death', a phrase he repeated to me many times, and that phrase was the seed of the play,' she says. While she was developing Fuck Me, Otero underwent spinal surgery that left her unable to move, leading her to cast five male dancers to take her place – all playing military seamen and completely nude. The experience inflected the work in more profound ways, too: '[In the show] I make a link between my grandfather's secrets, what was hidden in my family, and the paralysis of the body,' she says. In her solo work Love Me, which premiered in Buenos Aires 'as a farewell to the country', Otero returned to the stage, speaking about the impact of the spinal operation on her sex and love life. In Kill Me, the dancer turned choreographer and director cuts a middle path, appearing on stage but also enlisting the help of other dancers. Having struggled to walk just a few years ago, Otero, now 41, says she is feeling fit again; while she can't yet dance again, she is doing boxing training each day in preparation for her next 'very ambitious and very complex project' (under wraps for now). Unsure at this stage whether she will be able to dance in the work, she says, 'I will be putting my body to work in some way'. Having left Argentina to seek new adventures and meet new people, she is also unsure if she will ever return, given attacks on freedom of speech by far-right president Javier Milei. '[He's] a horror … he's destroying everything,' she says. In the meantime, Otero continues to embrace the artistic possibilities of doubt: 'Whatever happens to me, I'm going to question everything,' she says. 'The most important thing for me is that the pieces transform me and take me to another place, to another life experience.' Kill Me is playing at the Sumner Southbank theatre, Melbourne, from 5-8 June as part of the Rising festival
BBC News
15-03-2025
- Entertainment
- BBC News
At risk music festivals consider new membership model
A new membership-based festival model is being trialled as a possible solution for for an industry "on its knees".Grassroots Rising, which is set to go ahead next year, is the brainchild of Bristol rooted venue, Chai scheme has been backed by the Music Venues Trust, venues, promoters and artists nationwide who believe this could be the only hope to getting those struggling in the industry back on their Wallahs founder Si Chai said the new model could be the key to helping an industry "on its knees" and facing "financial challenges". According to the Association of Independent Festivals (AIF), the UK lost 78 festivals in 2024 alone, more than double that of Chai said the new festival model would reduce independent running costs and bring down ticket prices to a more affordable level."Grassroots Rising not only offers a solution to the financial challenges the industry faces but, as a celebration of strictly independent music and grassroots culture, will also address the imbalances between commercially supported and non-supported artists."The industry is on its knees," he Davyd, CEO of Music Venues Trust, said the initiative will "foster multiple platforms for emerging artists" and will support much loved grassroots venues nationally."It's an important opportunity to bring together independent musicians, venues, promoters, bookers, festivals, and the whole ecosystem in which grassroots culture exists," he said. George Fleming, founder of Save Our Scene, who also backs the scheme said anyone who is willing to put "their heart and soul" into delivering a grassroots festival in the current climate "deserves to be paraded down the street"."We look forward to supporting in any way we can," he fans will be able to buy their membership through a crowdfunder and choose the artists they want to see at the opens in Rising Festival will take place in Cambridgeshire from 18-21 June, 2026.
