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issue #02

METROPOLIS

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inBrief.

2007 represented a milestone in human histo-ry when, 10,000 thousand years after building the !rst cities, the majority of humanity now live in urban environments. Australia’s own part in the history of urbanisation is relatively short as European colonisation, Australia rap-idly became one of the most urbanised coun-tries in the world. "e ethos of ‘the bush’ in Australia’s national mythology may be a result of this, a longing for a more pre-modern form of life, as it could only ever be an echo of early settler’s experiences within an unfamiliar and seemingly hostile environment, brushing over cities and the life therein.

"e ability to creatively work on and alter our physical environment is arguably a char-acteristic that distinguishes humans from other animals, with its end point, at least for now, in the modern metropolis. We are al-ways shaped by our environment, whether we want to be or not, and modern cities are no di#erent. However, the latter represent an un-precedented opportunity to play a role in and

in$uence this process. Without urban settle-ment, the environment that shapes its human inhabitants is almost entirely given to them – it makes them but there’s only a very lim-ited sense in which they make it. Urbanisation changes this; we are increasingly moulded within an environment of our own creating.

It’s easy for this importance of cities, the metropolis, to withdraw from view. Our inat-tentiveness to this is often only brought into sharp relief through seeing outsiders, from the country or their own cities, who stand out against the background that we just take for granted.

"at this happens is unfortunate. An aware-ness of the role of our urban environment in how we came to be like this allows us to bet-ter understand our selves and the modern metropolis allows us to consciously take part in this process of self-creation. How we build our city will de!ne who we are in the future. We are now reaping the consequences of our carelessness in trying to control our natural environment. Beyond questions of mere sur-vival, how we relate to other life forms will largely be expressed through the cities we cre-ate. Internal to society of public goods and life opportunities will be determined by how we shape out. Urban growth is no longer an un-planned ‘natural’ occurrence, so what will the cities of the future look like and who do we want to be?

ISSUE #02METROPOLIS

Editors Evgueni Gokhmark Elena Mujkic Mikaela Oldham Cherese Sonkkila Kai Tanter

ContributorsRyan Baker Brendan Corney Emily Flint Evgueni Gokhmark Kate Hauser Erin Handley Oliver Mestitz Elena Mujkic Britt Myers Chris Porter Cherese Sonkkila Kai Tanter Emmeline Tyler Lin Wang Jemma Wiseman Scott Woodard

Graphic DesignTess Copeland

CoverCam Richard

Centrefold Mitch Walder

Photography Alex Holland

Contibuting ArtistsLydia Anstis Jack Beeby Lois Collins Rosanna Dunlop Nathaniel Tanter Clara Wittwer

CONTRIBUTORS

in Brief is a free quarterly magazine written and published by young Melburnians. Each issue is themed, encouraging contributors to direct their ideas towards a particular, yet broad, area of enquiry. in Brief encourages stylistic diversity, and the creative presenta-tion of ideas. Our emphasis on brevity chal-lenges contributors to express their ideas with clarity and consideration, and allows in Brief to publish more work, and explore a broader range of ideas, each issue. in Brief is funded and organised by a committee. Committee members write, edit, design and publish each issue.

inbriefmag.com

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CONTENTS

ISSUE # 3: EDIBLE ed·i·ble / `edabal

Adjective:Fit to be eaten (often used to contrast with unpalatable or poisonous examples).

!is issue we want contributors to explore eating, drinking and food. From ethical con-sumption and production to the molecular composition of gummy worms - we want it all. You don’t just have to look at eating and prob-lems/issues surrounding eating, although that is de"nitely part of it. We’re also interested in getting people to explore and evaluate eating as a concept - understanding its place in our lives and, even, its position in contributing to happiness. As always, there are no limits on what you can write about, the theme, we think, has almost endless possibilities. We’re interested to see what you can do with this po-tentially overlooked aspect of daily life.

Please direct article pitches to: inbriefmag@gmail.com

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ISSUE #3CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS:in Brief accepts short articles with a maxi-mum length of 500-1000 words as well as short stories, cartoons and artwork. We reserve the right to edit content for thematic relevance. Edited work will only be published with the author’s consent. Provided an article is intelligently written and thematically relevant, there are no unacceptable topics or writing styles.

04. SARAJEVO, THE CITY Elena Mujkic

06. SPACE AND STATUS Katherine Hauser

08. TWILIGHT OF THE NONNAS Kai Tanter

10. WATER, WATER EVERYWHERE Chris Porter

12. THE BEST LAID PLANS OF MICE AND MEN Jemma Wiseman

13. PSYCH AND THE CITY Brendan Corney

14. LEGO TOWN Scott Woodard

16. ARTIST FEATURES: Alex Holland Mitch Walden

20. CITY & SOCIETY Emily Flint

24. FAKE PLASTIC TREES Cherese Sonkkila

26. A VIEW FROM ABOVE Lin Wang

27. A LEISURELY STROLL Erin Handley

29. THE REAL WORLD Emmeline Tyler

30. LEAVING NEW YORK Evgueni Gokhmark

32. A DIALOGUE ON THE CONCEPT OF STATUES Britt Myers

35. THE PLAZA THAT BEATS Ryan Baker

30. A BOWLFUL OF MILK Oliver Mestitz

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A good friend of mine once noticed some-thing about me that no one else had remarked before: that every time someone asked me where I was from, I told them I was born in Sarajevo; I didn’t say I was born in Bosnia. At the time, I thought nothing of it, but after a conversation with my dad, a proud ‘Sarajevan’ more than a proud Bosnian, it clicked – that identity is a mosaic of intimate moments not a dictionary de!nition.

"e backdrop of the Be#ka Kafana (Viennese café) in the Austro-Hungarian part of Sarajevo’s city centre was probably part of the reason the penny dropped. An Australian friend who was travelling with me at the time asked my dad, over a European-style co$ee (not the Turkish style served everywhere else in Sarajevo), what it was like coming back to Sarajevo, the place in which he grew up and spent most of his life before the war. Straying slightly from the question in search of its an-swer, Dad began to paint a detailed, nostalgic, but honest nonetheless, depiction of his city of birth.

He grew up in the city centre, he explained nonchalantly, like the kid who grew up in an apartment on St Kilda Road and thought nothing of it. He walked everywhere, at all times of day, and knew every corner and lane-way much better than the back of his hand. In summer, he drank from the fountain in the cobbled main square, and after a night of drinking and smoking he bought white bread rolls from the bakery behind the mosque, freshly baked for those at prayer.

Sarajevo was always a multicultural city, where cobbled Ottoman streets blurred into concrete Viennese-style high apartments,

where the song of worship rising out of the turret of a mosque blended with the chinks of glasses in kafane (bars, cafes, restaurants), where people from all over Yugoslavia shared a common dialect. It was a cosmopolitan city, where famous musicians performed, and in-ternational !lms were shown in festivals. My dad knew this city well, and loved what he knew.

In contrast to my dad’s cool kid story, my mum had a di$erent experience of the city. As a child, she lived on a hill, on the city’s outskirts, where she once fell while carry-ing a glass milk bottle, cutting herself on the broken glass. She was the daughter of a car-penter and in her teenage years made winter coats from the o$cuts of felt that made sur-faces for the billiard tables her dad made for the bars in Sarajevo. On top of the !lms and bread rolls, the image my mum had of the city was made up spears of grass on a hill and bil-liard tables. Hence, my mum too, knew this exact city well, and loved what she knew.

"irty years earlier, my baka, my grandma, a newcomer in her twenties, dating a local poli-tician, ate almost every meal at the Viennese Café, before she learnt to cook and started buying fresh ingredients from the old market hall in the city centre. It was there that the best meats, cheeses and conversations were weighed out on iron scales. "e city became hers too, a place she knew well, and in which she loved what she knew.

SARAJEVO, THE CITYElena Mujkic

Me, I’ve eaten the famous ten #evapi in the restaurant with the low-set iron tables and chairs and cobbled %oor. I’ve crossed the river and ridden the trams. I’ve paid three dollars for a lift across the city in a cab, and slept un-der a shelf of dusty hard-cover novels in my grandma’s crowded %at.

Since then though, it’s been !rst and foremost Melbourne where I grew up, not Australia. Saying I’m from Melbourne conjures up a cer-tain fondness, whereas saying I’m Australian seems an uncomfortable !t, for it’s the rain against the window of the tram on the !rst day of school, the breakfast on a broad wood-en communal table, the swims in a friend’s backyard pool, and the city-bound tra&c on Friday nights in winter that I’ve experienced and identify with, not Australia.

In the same way my dad knows as little of the snow-capped mountains of Bosnia as a tourist might, I have never seen the quintessentially

Australian desert. I’m not sure what this says of my identity as an ‘Australian’, but it re-veals what may be the reason I say I’m from Sarajevo, why my dad speaks in Sarajevan slang or even the reason why saying a per-son is ‘very Melbourne’ means something quite distinct, while the adjective ‘Australian’ means very little.

We identify much more intimately, with more speci!city and more rawness, with cities we experience than with countries, despite the uniformity of nationality that we imagine of other countries. While we stereotype ‘Italians’ and those from the Gold Coast, Italians stere-otype ‘milanesi’ and ‘Australians’. "ose inti-mate with a city feel its dynamics and trans-late these to the curves and slants of their identity, while the perceived uniformity, even monotony, of a nation, seems somewhat inad-equate as a brew of qualities and %avours from which to draw elements of an identity.

IDENTITY IS A MOSAIC OF INTIMATE MOMENTS NOT A DICTIONARY DEFINITION.

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E!ective housing policy does not rest solely on bricks and mortar. To unpack this state-ment it is helpful to consider the home as the foundation for self-development and social mobility. When there is lack of stabil-ity surrounding options for housing, it can result in exclusion from other areas of social engagement, including employment, access to basic services and social networking. "e international weight of this perspective has strengthened over the years. Analysts argue that the 2011 UK riots took hold, not because citizens were denied housing, but because in-come disparity coupled with poor standards of public housing created a strong sense of social exclusion.

In Australia stigma surrounding public hous-ing estates is less substantial, but exclusion is still seen in access to stable housing. "e supply of public housing barely scratches the surface of demand. Even in priority cases, new applicants can remain on wait-lists for years. While supply in the private market is less strained, households lack the security of long-term tenancy agreements. Higher risk tenants are often left with informal sub-letting ar-rangements, which o!er little security against unfair eviction. Formal lease agreements o!er little more stability, as they are rare and dif-#cult to negotiate.

SPACE AND STATUS:A SHORT REVIEW OF AUSTRALIAN HOUSING POLICYKatherine Hauser

Since 2007, Australian housing policy has taken on a new lease of life. In their #rst term the ALP introduced !e National Rental A"ordability Scheme (NRAS), !e Nation Building and Jobs Plan:

Social Housing Initiative (NBJP) and a new gov-ernance approach linking housing and other welfare services. For the #rst time since 1996 a ministerial role was created speci#cally for housing and development. "ese initiatives brought life and funding into Australian housing policy, but were not without their limitations. Problems have arisen around con-sistency, clarity and co- ordination between public housing provision and assistance in the private rental sector.

"e NBJP held a duel target; to stimulate the construction sector during the 2008 Global Financial Crisis and to produce 20,000 new public housing units. "e project represented a $64b budget allocation, but despite best ef-forts the new units will barely dent the grow-ing demand for a!ordable housing. In Victoria alone, 41,000 households are wait-listed for public housing. In some cases applicants have waited several years for placement (January 31, 2011). Due to funding and resource limi-tations, these wait periods are inevitable, but there is potential for housing support services to expand capacity building programs, assist-ing individuals in the transition between the public and private housing market.

Applying for public housing is a relatively pas-sive experience. Asking individuals to prove their low-income status, re-enforces their im-age of homelessness or welfare dependency. If housing cannot be guaranteed then they will be pushed back into the private rental market where they must present themselves as active and independent; a safe tenant. Considering that 2 out of 3 low-income individuals are housed in the private rental market, a holistic housing strategy can not ignore the di$cul-ties individuals face in transitioning between

public and private application processes.

"e NRAS o!ers tax incentives for private and non-government investors to let properties at 80% market rates. "is has created a rental sub-sector, allowing low-income households access to discounts on a %exible range of pri-vate rental properties. "e NRAS, however, still faces limitations in its clarity, scope and over-arching governance structure. Property management is currently co-ordinated by sev-eral private rental agencies: these agencies are not standardised, or clearly positioned in the mainstream rental market, creating confu-sion in the properties available to rent and the application process. While %exibility of the program is a welcome addition to low income housing options, it cannot yet be considered a substantive option.

ASKING INDIVIDUALS TO PROVE THEIR LOW-INCOME

STATUS, RE-ENFORCES THEIR IMAGE OF HOMELESSNESS OR

WELFARE DEPENDENCY. "e focus of housing policy over the past four year has been supply based, rolling out new public housing units and providing incentives for investors to develop a!ordable rental op-tions in the private market. While resource development is an important component of housing policy, it does not directly tackle is-sues of limited security and legal rights in pri-vate tenancy agreements. If housing support services are to carry real weight they need to reach across markets, o!ering capacity build-ing options to increase stability in the main-stream rental market.

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attracted them to the inner city in the !rst place and leaving behind only ‘indie’ or ‘hip-ster’ culture? More than parasites, they’re vampires! Pallid and malnourished, wearing outdated clothing; they come out at night to feed, sucking out the soul of the city in the process. "ere aren’t even any self-identify-ing hipsters – they can’t recognise their own image in the mirror!

So as Lenin would say: “what is to be done?” If anyone has a solution besides kidnapping old Greek ladies in a beat up old van I’m open for suggestions.

Recently a friend and I hatched a plan. We would hire a van, the ‘yiayia van’, drive to Oakleigh and kidnap old Greek ladies, or ‘yiayias’. Many may !nd this odd, but they’re being unreasonable.

You see Brunswick East, where I live, was once full of old Greek and Italian ladies (yiayias and nonnas – terms that I will be using inter-changeably). "ey were everywhere - stand-ing in front of their houses, chatting with each other and passing pedestrians, watering their concrete lawns, inviting each other over for co#ee, feeding skinny grandchildren, etc. Whole industries sprung up to cater to their many faceted needs.

"is lure of cheap Italian (‘ethnic’) produce and co#ee was too much to bear, and many (presumably skinny) students moved to the inner city, but there were still plenty of nonnas.

Problem is, nonnas have been disappearing! Despite their active and boisterous lifestyles they’ve been dying o#, going to nonnas’ heav-en where they roam free among !elds full of skinny grandchildren (I am told that adjacent to nonna heaven there are also !elds full of otherwise indistinguishable babkas, obaa-chans and bobes).

"e shipments of new replacement nonnas have dried up – instead hordes of yuppies have descended on the inner city, gentrifying everything they touch.

Hence our dilemma… According to my friend, Oakleigh has an abundance of yiayias. Such an abundance that supply far outstrips de-mand; a positive glut of yiayias. "e transfer of surplus yiayias to Brunswick East, where their lack of substitutability has created a dis-tinct shortage, would rectify this imbalance in the nonna market. Supply would equal de-mand and utility would be maximised for all, right?

"is, however, is only a band-aid solution. It treats the symptom (the nonna de!cit) with-out addressing its underlying causes (the long term trend towards the de-nonnarisation of the inner city). "e world’s supply of nonnas is !nite and stealing nonnas from other sub-urbs just isn’t sustainable in the long term. We need a renewable source of nonnas of for the inner city. How are we to do this?

"e urban nonna cycle seems to go some-thing like this.

Stage (1): Nonnas and their families move into ‘bad’ working class/poor suburbs that

most other people don’t really want to live in, bringing the tasty bits of their culture with them.

Stage (2): ‘Anglo’/’White’ students, lured by cheap rent and novel cultural experiences soon follow. Initially this student population is merely transitory, but some of them stay.

Stage (3): People who were likely once stu-dents but now have a lot more money (and more coming) move in, possibly with young children (like my parents). During this time the nonnas slowly age, and up and coming nonnas undergo inadequate nonna!cation. "e local stock of nonnas decreases and rising house prices prevent new sources of nonnas from moving into the area. Greener pastures like Oakleigh are sought instead.

Stage (4): Restaurants, shops and cafes begin to change. "ere may be more of them but they slowly morph into the kind of places that you can no longer a#ord. "e hot bread shop turns into a boutique bakery, the cafe formerly run by the old couple starts roast-ing its own co#ee and selling special beans, and the menus at the local restaurants start to adopt a fascinating blend of the traditional and the modern, authentic ‘insert ethnicity’ food that doesn’t actually seem to be eaten by ‘insert ethnicity’.

On one level this is all well and good - ‘we’ all like nice co#ee and a vegan friendly menu - but the price is a bit... and some of its ‘soul’ seems to be lacking. "is is a distressing phe-nomenon to observe for those who grew up in these areas (friends who grew up in North Fitzroy and St Kilda East tell similar stories), but I’ve heard that Footscray is pretty cheap, a lot closer to the city than you’d think and has nice co#ee. ‘All this has happened before, and all of it will happen again’ - and so the cycle continues.

Are many middle class ‘whites’ or ‘Anglos’ just cultural parasites? Destroying what

1. Consequently, ‘nonnanomics’ has become a booming area of intellectual inquiry and the discipline is attracting many of the 21st century’s greatest minds. See Nouriel Roubini, ‘Nonnas and Neoclassical Economics’, Journal of Nonna Studies, 4, p. 65-82.

2. "e Victorian government’s recent ‘Cleaning Up Our Streets’ program has attempted to rectify the situation by promising “At least one nonna on every street corner.” “"ey’ll hose down both the footpath and crime!” said an enthusiastic Ted Baillieu. "e elderly ethnic women’s pro-fessional association, United Nonna, issued a statement condemning the move, claiming that “Mrs. Doubt!re-esque mayhem would ensue” if they continued to employ unlicensed nonnas.

3. George Ritzer has recently argued that standard Sociology 101 textbooks inadequately address the phe-nomena of ‘de-nonnerisation’: “It along with rationalisa-tion, capitalisation, McDdonaldisation, globalisation and glocalisation forms an essential part of the modernisa-tion process that is central to Sociology as a discipline,” said Ritzer. George Ritzer, "e Tragedy of the Nonnas, Harvard Press, 2012. It has also come under the focus of Sociologists sociologists of sScience who study ‘isationsa-tion’, the proliferation of technical ‘isation’ terms within Sociological discourse.

4. Nonnas are like Bob Brown’s beloved old growth forests - from the time of their initial sprouting they take some time to grow and mature.

5. Long term residents now complain of being overstimu-lated due to constant tantalisation.

6. "e Opt has made the vampire point for similar reasons http://the-opt.com/?p=425.

TWILIGHT OF THE NONNASKai Tanter

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!e construction of a metropolis results in sig-ni"cant impacts on the environment. Whilst urban areas are generally associated with smog and air pollution, their construction also results in severe disruptions to the water cycle. !e movement of water through urban landscapes presents many management is-sues. I wish to shed some light here on what I believe is possibly the most pervasive issue in urban water management: stormwater.

Stormwater is generated by rain falling on im-pervious surfaces in urban areas. Impervious surfaces are comprised of materials that water cannot soak through. !ese include concrete, asphalt and steel; all are found extensively throughout cities. Natural landscapes covered by vegetation have practically no impervious surfaces. !e urbanisation of land results in vast expanses of impervious materials being laid down over landscapes which were previ-ously highly permeable. As a result, almost all of the rain that falls on urban areas is convert-ed into stormwater.

Stormwater presents signi"cant #ood risks for the urban areas which generate it. !e goal of the stormwater management system is to di-rect stormwater out of urban areas as quickly and e$ciently as possible. !is has tradition-ally been achieved by collecting stormwater in drains and pipes to be discharged into lo-cal waterways and ultimately into the sea. !e presence of these waterways in the landscape is a natural occurrence, but the introduction of stormwater into their catchments results in signi"cant modi"cation of their natural hy-drological and ecological processes. !e modi-"cations include erratic #ow patterns, bank

WATER, WATER EVERY WHERE...Chris Porter

erosion, and pollution from chemicals and rubbish. !e result is a dramatic reduction in the ability of urban waterways to provide good quality habitat for native #ora and fauna. !e impacts of stormwater are so severe that it is widely described as the single biggest threat to the health of urban waterways.

Channelling stormwater directly to urban wa-terways is not only severely damaging to the environment but also wastes a potentially valuable source of water for our cities. Water is a scarce resource that will only become more precious as the e%ects of climate change be-come more prevalent and our population con-tinues to grow. It is reported that over $5.5 billion has been invested in the construction of the Wonthaggi desalination plant to help augment Melbourne’s water supply, yet every time it rains millions of litres of fresh water are literally thrown down the drain. We should not be pouring huge amounts of money and energy into turning seawater into drinking water while stormwater is still allowed to sim-ply #ow into the bay at a rate of 500 billion litres a year.

Stormwater is a massive potential source of water which needs to be harvested if our cit-ies are to become more sustainable. It is im-portant to note that harvesting stormwater is not an easy process and poses many chal-lenges. !e amount of treatment required to remove pollutants is signi"cant, as is the amount of energy required to pump the water against gravity from the low-lying urban areas back to reservoirs and treatment plants. !ere is also a need to modify existing stormwater systems to allow for harvesting and diversion

to occur. Despite these challenges, however, stormwater harvesting has been calculated to cost no more than a third of the price of the Wonthaggi desalination plant. It is also far less damaging to the environment.

STORMWATER HARVESTING HAS BEEN CALCULATED TO COST NO MORE THAN A THIRD OF THE PRICE OF THE WONTHAGGI DESALINATION PLANT.

We can no longer treat the stormwater that runs o% our roofs and roads as waste to be disposed. We must instead treat it as the valuable resource that it is. !is will require a signi"cant shift in the way stormwater is currently managed. !e concept of Water Sensitive Urban Design (WSUD) aims to mini-mise the impact of urbanisation on the water cycle by incorporating it into the design of the urban environment. !e basic principle of WSUD is to simulate a more natural water cy-cle by eliminating direct connections between the impervious surfaces of the urban envi-ronment and urban waterways. Rainwater tanks are arguably the most common form of WSUD, although they are rarely promoted for this purpose. Harvesting rainfall in tanks reduces the impact of stormwater on the en-vironment simply by reducing the quantity of it, but also bene"ts urban residents by pro-viding them with free water. Raingardens, or bio"lters, which utilise the natural processes of vegetation growth to reduce both the vol-ume and pollutant load of stormwater are widely promoted as the most e%ective form of WSUD. !ese purpose built garden beds

require minimal maintenance because they are self-watering and can be installed any-where from tiny backyards to vast carparks.

But for such WSUD concepts to have a signi"-cant impact on the health of our urban water-ways they must be put to use on a much larger scale than is currently the case. A recent study by Melbourne Water found that less than half of Melbourne’s households were practicing any form of WSUD, and less than one in "ve had a raingarden. Although this is a positive progression from the traditional management approach, it is far from enough to make a sig-ni"cant di%erence to the issue of stormwater. Stricter regulation of stormwater manage-ment is therefore required if our cities are to become more sustainable. Rainwater tanks and raingardens should be minimal compul-sory installations on new developments and incentives should be given for retro-"tting among existing developments. Delaying ef-forts to shift to more sustainable stormwater management will result in the further deg-radation of waterways connected to urban areas, and the continued waste of a valuable resource. Incorporating WSUD into our cities is a vital part of the process of creating a more sustainable society.

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!e city rose up like a gleaming monument to modernity. !e streets and roads and alley-ways were mapped out on the polished desks of the council o"ces. !is was a scienti#c act. !e squalid conditions of the villages and towns were abandoned as the young and the #t and the keen were drawn to the city with promises of work and prosperity.

Yet, other creatures also began to migrate. !ey arrived in silent and unseen droves; the lice in the hair, the rats in the walls, the $ies in the butter. !ey burrowed their way into the wallpaper and beneath the $oorboards of the crowded tenements.

!e city’s new arrivals were forced to shed their traditions. Men and women who grew up running barefoot through #elds, now lived in cramped apartments stacked upon one another. Home was now a decaying building with creaking stairs and leaky pipes. Gone were the cow, the chickens and the vegetable garden. No longer did the milk come steaming hot from the teat of the faithful Jersey. It was delivered by the milkman. From the cow’s ud-der it was transferred from a pail, to a bucket, to a cart. !en under the summer sun it was transported to the city. It arrived sour and pungent. !e milkman then poured in the am-monia and the white paint, restoring the milk to its ‘natural’ shade. !e milk arrived in clink-ing glass bottles on the door step. !e noxious liquid was then warmed and poured down the baby’s throat.

Milk: !e Miracle Elixir. Helping Your Bouncing Blue Eyed Boy To Grow!

!e city’s planners tried as they could, but still some things were overlooked. !e water which gushed from the corner pump $owed strong yet, was tainted by corroding pipes. !e sew-erage system, emblematic of the calculated design of the city struggled to cope with the population boom and nightly mounds of rub-bish grew on the concrete pavements, as the city collectors laboured to clear them away.

!e leaders of the city built modern institu-tions; a prison, an orphanage, an asylum and a hospital. !ese grand buildings were the sym-bols of a truly modern metropolis. !e sprawl-ing institutions were designed to help the down and out and reform the socially deviant. However, in these overcrowded buildings bac-teria grew and $ourished, leaping from vector to host and on again. !e residents were rav-aged by cholera, yellow fever and tuberculosis. !e supervisors and watched in horror as their wards withered before their eyes. !ey blamed the noxious fumes of the soap factory and the putrid miasma of the slaughterhouse. Yet, no one thought to look under their #ngernails or considered the need to wash the cups which passed from one parched mouth to the next.

Daily more people arrived from the villages, #lled with the hope of a new start in a new city. !ey created lives for themselves, whilst learning all the while that the best laid plans of mice and men do sometimes go awry.

THE BEST LAID PLANS OF MICE AND MEN Jemma Wiseman

PSYCH AND THE CITYBrendan Corney

Melbournians are quick to vaunt Melbourne’s uniqueness, with pride verging on insecurity. Ironically, these self-bestowed honours of uniqueness are always in comparison to some other city: Australia’s Cultural Capital (not Sydney), great co%ee (as good as Italy!), world-leading grungy street culture (eat your heart out Berlin). Is the cultural cringe still so strong that we cannot assert our aesthetic independence? Did you know the term “cultural cringe” was invented by a Melbournian and now has its own page on the international website Wikipedia?

We live in the Umwelt, an individual perception of a shared environment. My hipster café with retro wooden benches is your dingy hovel in need of desperate renovation. An entire city can be perceived essentially as di%erent cities with di%erent characteristics: the perceptions depend on the observer.

!e feel of a place, its atmosphere, is a di"cult concept to pin down. !e atmosphere on a place relies on two levels: how an individual models reality, and how a city as a whole subconsciously collaborates to create a mood.

When travelling, we must create stories about our current location, conceptualising ourselves as the protagonists. Our experiences are enriched, our pleasure enhanced, by overlaying our pre-existing visions of cities over the always vastly di%erent reality. In this way, Paris is transformed into the City of Light, New York into the bustling backdrop of our movies, and Tokyo into a technological metropolis, all without moving a single brick.

Our perception is narrower than we imagine, and it takes conscious e%ort to realise that our brains are #lling in the blanks with our own opinions and biases. For example, why do we feel isolated in a sparsely populated suburban environment, yet escape to relax in a sparsely isolated rural environment?

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LEGO TOWNScott Woodard

My son is God. Standing by the window, He looms his eight-year-old shadow over the town of Lego houses on the edge of the great shagpile plain. Plastic people look up at the dark sky but do nothing.

My son has never left the city. I don’t under-stand how he knows about towns or that the city even has an end. He must’ve seen it on TV. He glances over everything he has created and smiles to himself. I suppose He’s proud.

“So what do we do now?” I ask him. He turns away from the town and looks up to me.

“Now I destroy the town!”

“What?!” I blurt out. “Why?”

“Just ‘cos.” He is grinning foolishly, driving his eyes down the quiet streets and stickybeaking in people’s windows. I try really hard to be a good father: I bought him the Lego and play with him when I’m not too tired after work; but sometimes I don’t understand him. !at must be his mother’s half.

“ ‘Because’ isn’t an answer.”

“Well, I built it,” He says. “So I’m allowed to destroy it.” He takes a step into town and hangs the black shadow of his school-shoe over the church on the high street.

“No!” I cry. He looks up at me.

“Why not?”

And I suddenly realise that I don’t know. I guess I’d just hoped that God would show

more mercy. I watch his foot grow heavy and my head is racing with empty thoughts.

“It seems such a shame to destroy it.”

“But it’s boring,” he moans.

“!en why don’t you play with the people in the town? You know, make them do things.”

“Because smashing the town will be more fun.”

I wonder whether God really had a gripe with Sodom and Gomorrah.

“Come on,” I say; “It’ll be fun!” I kneel down in front of him and point to a Lego man. !e man is standing at a Lego bus stop and smil-ing an infallible Lego smile even though he is waiting for a bus that isn’t built. “Here, how about this man? We could make a whole life for him. Let’s give him a name. What do you want to call him?”

“I dunno.”

“What about Peter? Do you like the name Peter?”

“Peter’s a stupid name.” He picks Peter up by the neck and throws him across the town. Peter collides against the police station. His smiling head falls o" and rolls onto the street.

“What did you do that for?” I reattach Peter’s head and place him back at the bus stop.

“You can’t do that!” He cries. “Peter’s dead!”

“Yes I can, I’m your father!”

He rams the toe of his shoe through the near-est house. People scatter across the road.

“Fix that then!”

I stand up to my full height and loom over him. He is dark in my shadow but his face is perfectly white.

“Go to your room!” I shout. “And don’t come out until you have learnt some respect!”

“Fine! !is is boring anyway!”

He stamps down the corridor without look-ing back. His bedroom door slams shut and the whole #at rattles. When it stops, I kneel over the broken house. Two of the walls have collapsed inwards and the roof lies in pieces across the single room. !e chimney is strewn across the yard. It’s a mess but I think I can $x it.

But before I can pick up a block I’ve stopped. I’ve realised something—that this meaning-less destruction was merely an act of God. None of the Lego people seem to care. I could destroy their whole goddamn town and they would still $nd reasons to smile. Suddenly it all seems so pointless.

So I leave the whole mess on the #oor and turn on the TV.

16 17

“Entrenched, a lone stranger wonders the origins of the densely chaotic mat-ter that has engulfed it. No knowledge or history can be traced, forcing it’s ir-relevance. Layer upon layer of the con-sumed pile up and then buttoned down conforming into a pink facade. A mask that shadows most except one thing. It is metropolis.”

- Mitch Walder

www.theloop.com.au/mitchwalder

ALEX HOLLAND

MITCH WALDER

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MITCH WALDER

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CITY & SOCIETYEmily Flint

When stripped down to the essentials, a city is the in-frastructure put in place to sustain a high-density ur-ban population. However, a city is much more than this stark evaluation. A city shapes and de!nes us more than most of us will ever realise. Our culture creates it, and then is shaped by both planned and natural urban devel-opment. Whilst it is true to some extent that society can mould the form of a city, the reverse is also true. "e way we view our environment is of the utmost importance, as it a#ects the way we interact within the environment we are placed.

"roughout my life so far, I have lived in three cities. As a child my family moved to the hi-tech and frantic metropolis of Tokyo, a far cry from the lazy and verdant suburb of Blackburn. "is city pulses with energy from new technologies and eccentric styles, and at times it is di$cult to comprehend the transformation that Tokyo has gone through. After the end of the Second World War, Japanese architects and urban planners investi-gated innovative ways to transform Japan into a mod-ern technological society. "is was viewed as critical in expressing to the global population that their country was not weak, despite them losing the war.

An example of this is evident in Kenzo Tange’s projects. An in%uential post-war Japanese architect who was part of the Metabolism Movement, in 1960 Tange designed a theoretical urban scheme called the ‘Tokyo Bay Project’, whereby the city’s infrastructure stretched over the ocean in a network of suspended buildings and roads. "is proposal not only demonstrated technical advance-ment, but also made a political statement as Japan attempted to take up the ownership of international waters. "e Metabolism Movement departed com-pletely from the conventions of traditional Japanese

architecture and paved the way for technolog-ical modernism to be integrated with urban design.

"e city never did extend across the oceans, but this design mentality is evident in such Japanese architects as Toyo Ito – whose build-ings use interactive light displays that change according to wind and sound – and Makato Sei Watanabe – whose Aoyama Art School is designed to appear as if a robot sits atop the roof.

Whilst still retaining elements of their tra-ditional culture, Japan is a country that has rapidly evolved to embrace modern technolo-gies. "e metropolis of Tokyo echoes this evo-lution, and helped these changes to be more readily accepted by the community.

THE WAY WE VIEW OUR ENVIRONMENT AFFECTS THE

WAY WE INTERACT WITHIN THE ENVIRONMENT WE ARE PLACED.

As a teenager I lived in Paris on French ex-change. Unlike Tokyo, Paris shies away from technological transformation. "is city is !lled with an appreciation for its own past as it carefully integrates modern facilities and design into heritage buildings. As you walk through the streets of Paris, one cannot help feeling as though they have been transported into an old !lm, full of pain au chocolat and romantic strolls along the riverbank.

However, in a sense this is an arti!cially creat-ed city that has decided to freeze at a particu-lar moment in history. Indeed, this version of Paris was in some respects arti!cially created by the French civic planner Georges-Eugène Haussmann, who was hired by Napoleon III in 1852 in an attempt to quell social uprisings and avoid another revolution. Haussmann was a planner who embraced radicalism for the sake of progress, and he held sparing sen-timent to the historical elements of the then medieval city of Paris. "e wide, tree lined boulevards that exist in Paris today are a di-rect result of the need for a ‘quick !x’ solution to the complex problems of poverty and poor housing in Paris. In fact at the moment of their creation, while the wide-spanning boul-evards were attractively framed in impres-sive buildings, this was most often a polished façade as the old haphazard and impoverished blocks remained hidden behind.

"is duplicity continues in modern day Paris, as overcrowding, in%ated housing prices and a high cost of living results in an elevated number of those who are sans-abri (those without a !xed place of resid

ence). "e Atelier Parisian D’Urbanisme in 2011 stated that of the 85,700 people who were sans-abri in France, 41,600 were in Paris. "e culture of Paris can be, at times, so resist-ant to change and development and this is re-%ected in the nature of the metropolis.

Finally, there is Melbourne. As modern Mel-burnians we feel a great sense of community

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attempted to promote his regime though ur-ban design, planning to create a city that ech-oed back to the ancient empires. Hitler and Speer together designed enormous and in-timidating neoclassical structures that aimed to promote the concept of an all powerful and everlasting !ird Reich. But more than this, these oppressive structures were intended to foster a subservient society. A towering structure of columns and statues does not in-spire a sense of welcome into the community. Conversely, it overwhelms the viewer with a crushing weight of the governing powers, and they feel a sense of helplessness that nothing they could do would in"uence the minds of those who rule them.

!e metropolis in which we live has a pro-found in"uence on our culture and outlook on life. !erefore, if we wish to change the way

our society is working then we must look to-wards the environment in which we live. An emphasis on community gardens, medium density living – these are the things that we should be aiming for in order to achieve a more sustainable society in the future.

in our urban environment. !e city’s secrets and quirks unite us as a community as we are gathered into a group of those who know and understand our metropolis.

!e development of Melbourne was not ini-tially organic. Being a colonised city it was simply placed in the environment. Our city grid, whilst convenient, gives no reference or sympathy to the indigenous environment or culture. For example, Elizabeth Street is prone to "ooding in high rainfall as it was built di-rectly atop a river. Indeed the Yarra River had a waterfall located directly under the Princess Bridge, but this too was eradicated for the sake of progress. !e implementation of this ‘modern’ city in the untamed Australian bush gave those who originally settled in Melbourne a sense of safety and control over their surroundings.

!is situation is telling of a modern Western society. We feel ownership over our city, and feel we have a say in how it should develop and grow. Even standing at the roots of towering skyscrapers, an inner city Melbournian will not feel overwhelmed but rather connected to their surroundings.

A sense of ownership over one’s city is not, however, a universal truth. Political dictators have long exploited the fact that an environ-ment can manipulate society. For example, as chancellor of Nazi Germany, Adolf Hitler – with the help of his urban planner Albert Speer – utilised urban development and archi-tecture to promote his political agenda and to establish his absolute authority.

Despite being a failed architect, Hitler un-derstood the power of cities. He therefore

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At least once a week on my cycle home I pass my elderly neighbour diligently weeding in their front garden. But as I wave and smile I can’t help but think there could be strawberries growing around their sparse roses instead of the dull bare earth. After all, it is such a shame to hold back the tide of nature as it tries to !ll the fertile space with greenery.

But civilised society prefers gardens to consist of manicured lawns and carefully cultivated ornamental plants, which have long been symbols of wealth. But seemingly this symbolism has been lost over time and having a ‘display-only’ garden is now just a vestigial habit. While the price of living increases, many people fail to realise that the fruit trees in their backyards could do more than just look pretty.

Initially, cities are built on arable land to ensure an easy supply of food to the citizens of a budding metropolis. However as a city gains wealth, the urban areas become dense and sprawling, forcing the farms further and further away. "is escalates until we have an entire city sourcing their food from rural, interstate and international sources. "e transportation of this food costs shiploads of money and contributes mightily to global pollution.

And yet there is so much remaining space in the city that goes overlooked. Alongside train lines, on roundabouts, in parks and in the backyards of busy home owners, arable land

goes to waste. Nature strips that might have once been farmland sport some sad grass and an even sadder tree. "is land sits dormant while we pay premium to have our food shipped, #own and driven to a doorstep that threatens to be overgrown with weeds.

Well, at least those weeds are preferable to bare concrete or even fake #owers. Many a common weed is useful for medicinal or nutritional purposes. For example the common dandelion is edible in its entirety as the leaves and #owers can be used in salads and the roots are a common co$ee substitute. In fact, many plants that are considered weeds in Australia are commonly used Greek and Italian cuisines. "e very presence of these plants exempli!es the potential cities have for agriculture, as we reject a food that #ourishes not just in public spaces, but in our very backyards.

Yet small pockets of Melbourne are still used for growing crops, such as community gardens and the odd vegetable patch. "ese rare areas are blossoming with community spirit and are the future of sustainable living. How better to reduce your food miles and expenditure than to source your daily nutrition from free and local source?

However these community gardens are not always easily available or accessible. So, many apartment dwellers have turned to the neglected land of others (both private and public) in order to satisfy their gardening

FAKE PLASTIC TREES:GROWING BEYOND AESTHETICSCherese Sonkkila

needs. "is guerrilla gardening has probably been practiced since the ‘ownership’ of land began, but today it prevails as a recognised brand of pro-activism and is practiced worldwide.

"e problem with this form of gardening is that the owners inevitably !nd out. "e ensuing legal con#ict is a waste of time for everybody – regardless of the outcome. Many times the gardeners triumph, and an empty plot is turned into a vibrant community garden. But just as often if not more, the land is reclaimed and the plants are destroyed. It is safe to say that this ‘war’ (as Richard Reynolds, founder of guerrillagardening.org would refer to it), is far from won.

But hope has sparked in recent times as the Melbourne City Council has written up preliminary guidelines for street gardens, and opened a forum for the general public to discuss the topic. "e guidelines even seem fair – they mostly pertain to the safety of the

gardens and outline the responsibilities of the caretakers. "e responses for the community consultation will be reviewed soon, in theory.

Cynicism aside, this could really be a major step forward for sustainability in Melbourne and a de!nite win for guerrilla gardeners and horticulturists alike. It is an exciting prospect that drab nature strips could soon give way to a lush variety of delicious plants. "e very atmosphere of Melbourne would be transformed. Each little street garden would inspire an awareness of how we use land, and foster thought on the potential for growth beneath our very feet.

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A VIEW FROM ABOVELin Wang

!ere was no possibility of maintaining a criti-cal distance from !e Avengers. Embraced by all three of its expensively produced dimen-sions, projecting for myself the mania I can only imagine might consume a real Marvel fan, how do I even begin to approach a text into which I have already been thrown? From the moment I consent to seeing its images, I feel I have foreclosed the possibility of reject-ing them. Its old tropes I will wear, its familiar narratives I will travel, accompanied by char-acters — well, caricatures — I already know too well.

Pointing out the unoriginality of a blockbust-ing Hollywood #lm is hardly profound, but there is something jarring about the stagna-tion of these narratives. How many times can we destroy our imaginary Manhattan? Even as Michel de Certeau suggests to us that we  walk  through the city, the performances of our superheroes takes place above it, or at least the lived city is always safely abstracted away. From Woody Allen’s  Manhattan  to al-most every location shot in  Gossip Girl, the aerial perspective of New York City has been secured as the approach which lets us possess the city and know it in its stasis, rather than be possessed by the city. It is a perspective imagined by artists long before we were actu-ally able to ascend to the hundredth $oor of the Empire State building, or for that matter, Tony Stark’s tower.

What de Certeau makes visible is a di%erence in kind between the city that we can know and take for granted in our fantasies, which is nec-essarily static — it needs to be readable — and the city of the Wandersmänner whose “bodies follow the thicks and thins of an urban ‘text’

they write without being able to read”. !e former Manhattan is dead, the latter lived and alive. Only the inanimate facsimile of Manhattan has the capacity to withstand the repeated destructions in our cinematic imagi-nation, for it is the stretched and primed can-vas onto which can be projected the paranoia of our popular imagination.

!e post 9/11 mood is both captured and rewritten. Aliens literally pour out of a hole in the sky above Manhattan; the threat of destruction is aerial and external. But this time, our superheroes are there to save us, our team united, mostly male and mostly white, among who #gure Captain America in all his star-spangled glory. We cheer even though his shield seems maybe just a little pathetic in light of Marvel’s post-WWII inventions. But nobody pauses to question what it is that we have saved.

Has not the story long forgotten the New York City that lives? !e simulacrum that the

“Paris is in truth an ocean that no line can plumb. You may survey its surface and de-scribe it; but no matter what pains you take with your investigations and recognizances, no matter how numerous and painstaking the toilers in this sea, there will always be lonely and unexplored regions in its depths, caverns unknown, $owers and pearls and monsters of the deep overlooked or forgotten by the divers of literature.”

!is is Paris in 1819, in the novel Old Goriot by the French writer Balzac, known for his detailed representations of society and for his contribution to realism. !e protagonist, Eugene de Rastignac, has moved to the city from the Southern provinces of France. For him, Paris represents hope and opportunity – he can make a fortune here.

Such nineteenth-century individuals had been released from the historical bonds of the feudal system and were free to move – Rastignac’s move is to the city, and the city itself is characterised by movement and $ow. !e metropolis is enticing in its promise of upward social mobility.

Rastignac’s arrival in Paris opens him up to the world of the $âneur. !e term ‘$âneur’ comes from the French verb ‘to stroll’, and

A LEISURELY STROLLErin Handley

narrative clings to has been dead for a while now, its concept of the city has long been separated from the city that is still being writ-ten, that still allows for a plurality of inter-pretations. !e greatest violence in the #lm isn’t the violence painted with virtuosic CGI, but is in$icted accidentally on the subjects it consumes.

It’s funny how, according to the logic of Hollywood, the clashing of demigods needs to be punctuated by the shattering of industrial-era glass, as though violence of even the di-vine kind needs to be signi#ed by the marks it

leaves on the concrete and steel of New York City. !e Icarian falls of !or and the Hulk never place in doubt their function for the narrative; they return to Manhattan’s defense all the more ready to a&rm the #lm’s scopic viewpoint, a defense only possible through this arrogant knowing of the city. Here, even the mythologies the story draws on have been reduced to the material, and the narra-tive functions like formaldehyde, #xing too the city itself that de Certeau sees ceaselessly creating itself. If our city is already dead, then what are we still #ghting for?

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refers to someone who leisurely walks or wan-ders through the city. !e two vital character-istics – ‘strolling’ and ‘leisurely’ – mean that in nineteenth-century literature, "âneurs were always upper-middle class men. Men and women of the lower classes were able to traverse the city, but not at their leisure. Women of high social status were generally not permitted to walk in the city streets unac-companied, lest they should faint.

THE CITY IS A TEXT TO BE DECIPHERED. A FLÂNEUR

SAUNTERS THROUGH THE CITY JUST AS THE READER NAVIGATES

THROUGH A TEXT.Despite the "âneur’s capacity to forge his own path in the sprawling, intricate twists and turns within the cityscape, he is nonetheless restricted to the city. Men who stroll leisure-ly in the countryside are not called "âneurs. Indeed, they’re often not called men. It’s usu-ally women such as Elizabeth Bennett and Jane Eyre who tend to stroll through #elds and across the moors – their male counter-parts are often on horseback.

!e city is a text to be deciphered. A "âneur saunters through the city just as the reader navigates through a text. Another literary Eugene – Eugene Wrayburn from Dickens’ Our Mutual Friend – is a wry and languid lawyer who has mastered his city. Aloof, he verbally destroys his rival in love, Bradley Headstone, and proceeds to mentally torment him by twisting and winding his way through London, knowing that Headstone is trailing him. ‘I seek those No !oroughfares at night, glide into them by means of dark courts, tempt the schoolmaster to follow, turn sud-denly, and catch him before he can retreat. !en we face one another, and I pass him as unaware of his existence, and he undergoes grinding torments’.

!e city is also the site of reason. Wrayburn might dominate the city sphere, but when he is removed from it, he is at danger of attack from his lower-classed rival, who is driven by emotion and madness. !e metropolitan man, who has to deal with constantly changing stimuli, removes himself from emotion and deals with the rapidity of change on a purely intellectual level. Sherlock Holmes, who rep-resents the pinnacle of reasoned thought, initially seems to face the same problem as Wrayburn. In !e Hound of the Baskervilles, set in the English countryside, Holmes faces the challenge of irrationality, nature, and a ‘curse’.

But rationality, articulated through Holmes, always triumphs in the end. !e #gure of the "âneur in nineteenth-century literature, as a reader of the city, is also often a detective – he understands the labyrinth and can render clues intelligible. Holmes is not a professional policeman; rather, he can a$ord to be an ama-teur detective. He has the status and means to investigate cases at his leisure, to observe and read the city as he wanders through its many passageways and signs.

However, the metropolis destabilises and divides the individual, and "âneurs become ‘doubled’. !ey can either #nd a double in an-other who is similar to themselves, or in one opposite to themselves. Wrayburn’s likeness is in his law-partner Mortimer Lightwood, and he meets his opposite in Headstone. Holmes’ likeness and opposite is encapsulated in Professor Moriarty. But the "âneur is again doubled within himself – two parts of the self coexist within the one. When Holmes isn’t en-gaged in a stimulating case, he’s nurturing his cocaine addiction, verging on the ‘other’ side of the law.

!e idea of the double culminates with Jekyll and Hyde. Stevenson renders physical the split between the two parts of the self. !e city’s ideals of reason and rationality are

represented in Professor Jekyll, and the no-torious Hyde seeks his pleasures by wander-ing through London at night. Hyde exerts full freedom in his actions precisely because Jekyll exercises social constraint. Jekyll’s freedom for "ânerie is in accordance with his social class, but he is also constrained by the social customs demanded of his position.

At the heart of the metropolis lies paradox. !e dense crowding of a city allows for a sense of anonymity; individuals can slip through

cracks and create their own identities. At the same time this perceived freedom is perme-ated by a sense of constant surveillance – like the Panopticon, in the city, anyone could be observing your movements at any time. !e concept of the metropolis is dual in nature, and the "âneurs who amble through it like-wise become duplicitous.

Find for me a place on the balconyI’ll sit on the bench and wait.Gazing down at the vast nevernessWatch it expand and explode.

If I never go out thereWill it stop existing?Will the world of potentialFold and disappear?

Or, if I doDrop my ladder, crawl downWill I #nd it’s nothingLike the view from above?

I can’t stand to sit hereAnd watch through the glass.I will smash through to the grassAnd feel for it’s real.

THE REAL WORLDEmmeline Tyler

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into her parents’ TriBeCa loft. Manhattan’s most expensive neighbourhood, teeming with privilege, is unashamedly and unapologeti-cally laid bare by Dunham in a series of web-shorts and in her feature-length debut Tiny Furniture.

And now I, having lived none of it, can only of-fer my own faint cry of “I heart NY”. But what is there that is even left to be said? No part of New York has gone unexplored or unexam-ined. All of its subway stops have been marked by the spray cans of authors and artists and auteurs who have washed away the past or simply painted over it.

IT IS MUCH EASIER TO PAINT OVER LAYERS THICK AND

WEATHERED, THAN TO APPLY THE FIRST DROP. BUT DO WE

NEED TO PAINT AT ALL?Even the di!culty to say something original about New York is not itself new. We can see it in the opening monologue of Woody Allen’s Manhattan, where the protagonist dictates multiple revisions of “Chapter One” of his New York novel as cliché piles on top of cliché. "e very example forecloses itself! My neu-rotic hunt for authenticity can say no more than point out the very di!culties that were experienced by those who came before. "e search for originality yields always the search and never originality itself.

Melbourne, by contrast, is nearly pristine. Writers and directors are much more sparing with their ink, not so quick to gra!ti their tags to the underpass or the public toilet stall. One can be almost certain that when Woody Allen #nishes his #lm tour of great European cities, he will not rush to make a boy-meets-girl epic set against the backdrop of North Fitzroy.

"is makes sense: it is much easier to paint over layers thick and weathered, than to apply the #rst drop. But do we need to paint at all? Why must our modes of expression be com-pared to New York’s, evaluated by the same grading sheet?

British indie-pop band Hefner once wrote: “"is is London, not Antarctica, so why don’t the tubes run all night?” "e L train will take you to Brooklyn at any time of the night. But here’s a preposterous thought: maybe Brooklyn isn’t where you want to go?

Almost my entire life has been spent very far away from New York. Its presence, however, has always loomed. I am compelled, for rea-sons all too clear, to write not of my very own Melbourne but of Brooklyn brownstones and TriBeCa lofts.

Whether viewed from across the East River or from across an Ocean, 10,000 miles away, Manhattan’s skyline remains unchanged. Its buildings look down upon me; its numbered streets awaken something inside of me – something Euclidean. And like Archimedes trans#xed even in the face of death, I cannot shake this compulsion: “Do not disturb my grids!”

"is is not merely accident. Culture, as I cur-rently know and consume it, seeps out of New York City. It appears front and centre in the movies and TV shows I watch and the stories I read. It reappears again in the conversations about the movies and TV shows and stories.

"e brownstones that line the streets of Brooklyn are tarred by pens and typewriters in a whole literary tradition that deals with the borough’s ceaseless gentri#cation. "ree generations of novelists detail the remodel-ling and rebuilding of these stately dwellings. Each generation is priced out by the next. Hipsters replace the hippies who replaced Italians: each time the “real” Brooklyn is lost but the author is never at fault.

More recently, cameras have probed even the most exclusive pockets of New York. Auteur Lena Dunham (can I call her that, or is she too young, too fat, too female?) invites the viewer

LEAVING NEW YORKEvgueni Gokhmark

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[X and Y sit outside the State Library of Victoria. X looks up at the statute of Saint George and Joan of Arc.]

X- I don’t think I like statues.

Y- You don’t like these statues or you don’t like statues full stop?

X- !e latter…

Y- …are you going to support that statement or is this one of those times when I should just smile and nod?

X- No, I want your input on this one.

Y- Right, then, I’m all ears. (smiles sardonically)

X- OK so, statues represent events and "gures from sections of history and thought, agree?

Y- Sure.

X- Ok well, I think that  because  they represent certain parts of history, they become barriers to future progress of intellectual and cultural identity.

Y- But not all statues represent the same thing…

X- I’m not challenging that…I’m struggling with the concept of statues.

Y- What is there to struggle with?

X- !ey immortalise people, make them appear as gods. It feels like there’s no questioning the foundational principles that statues represent. !ey feel like a big old full stop on the creation of values.

Y-…because they immortalise people.

X- Right.

Y- And why don’t we like immortalising people?

X- Because that person’s subjective value and signi"cance is portrayed as objectively unequiv-ocally? Statues are built of hard metals and stone: the values that they represent are literally indestructible!

Y- …so make statues out of styrofoam, would you still have an issue?

X: …yeah I think I would. I think I have a problem with the fact that someone, at some point in time, has decided that there is a certain "gure in the community who deserves to be preserved.  And not just preserved, but placed on a pedestal as an example to the rest of the community.

Y: I see where you’re going: a kind of ‘cult of the statue’ could lead us to think of our his-tory only in terms of the arbitrarily chosen "gures who remain…but don’t certain "gures still deserve that kind of recognition?

X- No, because who chooses those "gures? And what makes their decisions any more valuable than any one else’s?

Y- Forgive me for not wanting to sling a rope round Joan’s neck here (Points to statue of Joan of Arc) and yank her o# her lofty ped-estal…but I don’t buy your argument that the values she and George represent aren’t of the kind we should be promoting in this city.

A DIALOGUE ON THE CONCEPT OF STATUES.Britt Myers

X- Well put it this way, you’re "ne with freedom and courage in the face of adversity being promot-ed, but what happens when the people choosing the statues stop valuing those things?

Y- Hold on…just because there have been stat-ues of dictators doesn’t mean you can ditch the idea of statues altogether.

X- Doesn’t it? Surely the statues of dictators underscore what is, at its core, wrong with stat-ues. !ey create the perception that the statue is representative of community values, it can thus stand over the community as a constant reminder of what we should all strive towards.

Y- You’re burdening statues with more pre-scriptivism than I think is fair.

X- But their very nature is that they are prescrip-tive. !ey are non-creative representations of a "gure, and therefore the perfect medium for a dic-tator: their presence confers importance!

Y- I don’t agree at all! Statues are almost the ultimate post-modern piece. $ey are lifeless "gures who are placed in often completely irrelevant surroundings. $ere is no artist statement, no authorial intervention, no nar-rator, no ‘voice’…

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X- But they are the creator’s intention. "ey are chosen by people in a position of power to pro-mote the values that that person or group of peo-ple think valuable.

Y- And how is that any di!erent to any piece of art or any monument that the government commissions now?

X- Maybe not di#erent at all, but that doesn’t ad-dress my argument…unless you feel like defend-ing every piece of public art in Melbourne…

Y- "anks but no…I’m hungry.

X- Just as well.

Y- Going back to your intention point, the only prescriptivist element of a statue is that the statue gets made. "ere isn’t really any-thing accounting for their presence after that. "eir signi#cance, changes over time. "ey mean whatever people want them to mean.

X- But statutes are made  because  their signi$-cance is meant to remain static.

Y- "at’s ignoring the fact that people  have di!erent ideas about history and historical #gures. If every statue had a sign next to it that said: “Here is a statue of a person who was and always will be awesome” I think you’d have a point.

X- Well, then, you’ve missed my point.

Y- No, I think you’ve just created a straw man. Does anyone really look at statues? People either pay them no mind or take a photo be-cause they’re big and pretty and walk away.

X- And you’re happy with that?

Y- Sure, what’s wrong with that?

X- You’re happy for civic infrastructure to pro-voke no interest nor thought in the community and exist solely to be photographed and shat on by pigeons?

Y- Well at least if they’re covered in shit their stature may not be as irksome to you (shouts at Saint George) “Be you ever so high, shit is still above you!”

X- I suppose it humanises them a bit…

Y- To be fair I do get where you’re coming from, I just think you’re, mind the pun, build-ing statues up to be something they’re just not.

X- And I don’t think you’re giving them enough credit…we shouldn’t be ok with certain people be-ing portrayed as Ggods and heroes just because no one seems to have the time to think about them.

Y: OK…Can we please eat now?

X: I won the argument didn’t I?

Y- Yes, your waxing lyrical has left me posi-tively dying to take a sledgehammer to all things statuesque.

X- Excellent.

Much more than a mere tourist attraction, La Plaza de Mayo is the heart of Argentine politi-cal life. Built in 1884, it was named after the bloody May Revolution which inspired the in-dependence movement in Argentina. Located in the very centre of the city, it is surrounded by all the instruments of power: the cathe-dral, the national bank, the colonial-era city council, city hall, and most importantly the Casa Rosada -- the Buenos Aires version of the White House and the seat of executive power in the country. "is privileged yet precarious position has inspired untold extremes of ju-bilation and horror, and the echoes of these memories can be felt in the day-to-day experi-ences of the locals.

Argentine political history in the twentieth century is complicated and incestuous, but there are three centres of power for which the plaza was and is most important: the Perons, the military, and the central bank.

"e Perons, the populist presidential fam-ily who towered over twentieth century Argentine political life, used the plaza as a focal point to secure support by electrifying crowds from the presidential balcony, before dramatically and publicly splitting from their more left wing supporters in later years.

"e military, always lingering, attempted a coup in 1955 in which they bombed the plaza itself, killing over 350 people. During the Dirty War, in which up to 30,000 people were killed (or, more euphemistically, “disappeared”) by the military government, the famous Madres de la Plaza -mothers of those targeted by the military- gathered to demonstrate, de-manding justice and information about the whereabouts of their children. "en came the

Falklands war, where crowds thronged to sup-port the military regime’s e!orts. "is enthu-siasm soon turned to outrage when the mili-tary su!ered drastic defeat, eventually forcing a return to democratic governance.

More recently, following the #nancial collapse in 2001, middle-class protesters rioted. "ey clashed with police, resulting in 5 deaths, sev-eral hospitalisations, and a temporary closure of the plaza by riot police.

"ese events, though in many ways relegated to history, can still be felt in the plaza. Los Madres still march every Wednesday, older now but still demanding justice for their lost children. "ere is a permanent encampment of protestors demanding that the Falklands be placed under Argentine rule. Most drasti-cally, there are crowd control barricades set up and a permanent collection of riot police with grim faces, tanks and water cannons on standby, ready to shut the plaza down at a mo-ment’s notice.

"ough a tourist destination, the plaza is still seen as the focal point of power and political unrest in the country, and with good reason. Any time there is a dramatic political or social development, there is an inescapable and un-de#nable pull to gather at the plaza. "e histo-ry of violence has permanently altered the col-lective social consciousness of the population of Buenos Aires. "is, in turn, has altered the way they interact with the space itself, to the point where it is now synonymous with po-litical life. "e in%uence of a tumultuous his-tory on the simultaneous evolution of Buenos Aires and its people #nds physical expression in the Plaza de Mayo.

THE PLAZA THAT BEATSRyan Baker

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I was living alone and in the city and trying to convince myself that life was disgusting and mean. My friend Poole came to visit to see if I was ok. I told her no so she took my hand and led me outside and down south through the city to where the roads and footpaths stop and there aren’t any shops except for fancy restaurants and drug dealers and sometimes in winter you can see penguins. We walked to the end of the pier and sat on the ropes, eating Calypsos. Our legs were facing inwards and backs to the ocean so we had to turn around to see water. Mostly we tried not to look at each other. All I could hear was the sound of myself eating.

After a while Poole held up her Calypso and frowned at it. She stretched out her neck and arms and held it at full length, frowning.

I guess it kind of does look like a penis, she said.

Poole was short and sleepy with round eyes and a birthmark on her nose. She went to vis-it her mum in a nursing home every Tuesday and Sunday. Last time she went she wasn’t allowed in the vegetable garden because her mum had killed all the leeks. Poole said there was something wrong with her brain or something.

She thought they were spring onions and pulled them up way too early, Poole said. Way too early. Now she just sits in her room, like literally, she literally like sits on her hands. She thinks they’re these killers or something.

She killed all the leeks? I said.

Yeah.

A BOWLFUL OF MILKOliver Mestitz

Why, cause they weren’t ready yet?

Yeah.

But they look so much like spring onions, I said.

I know, Poole said. I know.

Poole lifted up her chin and smelled the air and sighed deep and long as if it was some-thing she didn’t do all the time anyway. I wanted to change the subject but I had noth-ing else to talk about.

What do you guys talk about when you’re there? I said.

What? Poole said.

You and your Mum. In, like, at when you visit.

O you know. Family and stu!.

Yeah.

Me, I guess.

Do –

She’s pretty on the ball. She –

Yeah?

Yeah. She said this amazing thing the other day. She said – she’s got this real strong sense of other people. Of herself and other people. But sometimes it doesn’t always match up to reality, or how you’re supposed to be in real-ity. And she said this thing the other day, that she remembers being on the tram and my age, she was standing on the tram. And so she’s standing there, going somewhere on the tram and this boy gets on. "is really handsome boy. And she said she remembers being on the tram and this boy came on and all she can remember is his neck. "is boy’s neck. He’s standing in front of her with his neck and on the tram and she can’t stop looking at his neck. She said it was the most beautiful neck she’s ever seen. And she was sort of stand-ing there and this boy and his neck, she was

looking at it and just sort of overwhelmed by his neck and she said she had to get o! the tram before something happened. "at if she didn’t she would have leant over and kissed it.

But she didn’t?

No, cause she got o!, but still. It’s, like, all she wanted to do was to kiss his neck. Like there was nothing –

Except but she got o! the tram.

Yeah, but.

So is, was – is he your dad?

No, no. No. Poole giggled. "at’s not the point. "e point is, that, I mean I don’t think it’s why she told me the story but the point is that she didn’t do it. She didn’t kiss the neck. Even though she really wanted to. She didn’t and she got o! the tram and that’s it, I mean that’s the point. You know what I mean?

I thought about the story and the point and about all of the pride and dignity and under-standing I knew that I was capable of and I put it all into my answer, honestly.

No, I said.

Poole sucked the last nubbin of her Calypso out of the tube. She turned the tube upside down.

I mean there’s beauty in the world, she said, shaking the tube. But sometimes you’ve gotta get out of the way so you can see it.

Poole upturned the Calypso and shook it, let-ting the juice #eck onto her shorts and shoes and o! the jetty into the water. She stood up. "e chain overbalanced and sunk against the pier. Poole stood up and #ung the empty tube and I saw it land and #oat soft in the water, brand side-up, bleeding rings of orange like a Froot Loop in a bowlful of milk.

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