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  • Red Dot

    Published 4 months ago by

    Red Dot a stop-motion video responding to Josephine Rowe's poem Red Lights for prod! Supported by media@rmit and the Australian Poetry Centre


    Videographers: Putri Ayu Sari, Zhen Jiang Wong


    Red Lights

    by Josephine Rowe


    (A stanza from the poem - Red Lights)

    1.

    Melbourne, it was a little red light

    sewn under your skin.

    From thirty k’s distance

    we could still make it out.

    Sitting on the rooves of our parents’ cars

    in outer suburbia

    we watched it winking,

    traced it along the lit veins of your highways,

    in and out of traffic, past the docks and

    down blind alleys where everything

    that had been said and sold and bought and done

    in the lost hours of a hundred and fifty years of Saturday nights

    had seeped into the cold stone and left it wanting.

    From thirty k’s distance,

    from as far away as childhood,

    it was a little red light

    moving under you skin

    and we were all meant to be someone else by now.

    Melbourne, you promised.

    Watch
  • Ebb & Flow

    Published 4 months ago by prod!

    An underwater video responding to Gemma White’s poem - The Mariner’s Lover for prod! Supported by media@rmit and the Australian Poetry Centre.


    Videographers: Emma Davies, Eliza Hull, Angeline Lim



    The Mariner's Lover

    by Gemma White


    It is not possible. Seas have upheaved upon us.

    It is not a surprise; I saw the new tide coming.

    It scared me from the first idle rip-wave. You couldn’t

    look that far ahead. It was too misty, you said. Besides,

    you could not tell which way you would drift. And you wanted

    to be billowed by any coming breeze, whirled into the eye of

    any ocean twister, following the tailfins, of any bejeweled sea heiress.


    For me it is different. I can no longer give anchor to this mirage

    of feeling. The albatross has flown. I thought, shooting it down

    could only bring me grief, but its death is a herald of relief, feathered

    hope whispering in, like discarded seagull plumes. He is touching me

    in the subtle dip and meet, of calami alighting water; free. My ancient love,

    I have lost your compass. And it seems, you have lost me.

    Watch
  • Search for Soul

    Published 4 months ago by

    Search for Soul a stop-motion video responding to Jessica Raschke's poem Bustles for prod! Supported by media@rmit and the Australian Poetry Centre


    Videographers: Keshanee De Silva, Danica Revote


    Bustles

    by Jessica Raschke


    As nervous fingers thumb the pads

    As jostling arms seek airs to swallow

    The lingering wishes for spaciousness

    Are denied their chance in this hustle blitz

    I wish

    To stomp the earth in solitude

    I wish

    To wake free of white noisiness

    Unsound

    Unkempt

    Impossible

    My mind it sprawls in search of yours

    Amid the ranges of bustled hordes

    What wakefulness is promised me

    Among glittering life saviours?

    I am told, once more, consoled:

    A slapping chorus awaits your heart

    The search for soul

    Breaks down

    At last

    Watch

Previous Next

Reminiscence

Reminiscence is a video that responds to Josephine Rowe's poem Red Lights for prod! Supported by media@rmit and the Australian Poetry Centre Videographers: Putri Ayu Sari, Zhen Jiang Wong Red Lights by Josephine Rowe (A stanza from the poem - Red Lights) 6. There are the things We want to say We are just waiting For the right time Ad breaks Red lights Birthdays Eulogies.

Published 3 months ago

Between

Between is a video that responds to Josephine Rowe's poem Red Lights for prod! Supported by media@rmit and the Australian Poetry Centre Videographers: Putri Ayu Sari, Zhen Jiang Wong Red Lights by Josephine Rowe (A stanza from the poem - Red Lights) 1. Melbourne, it was a little red light sewn under your skin. From thirty k’s distance we could still make it out. Sitting on the rooves of our parents’ cars in outer suburbia we watched it winking, traced it along the lit veins of your highways, in and out of traffic, past the docks and down blind alleys where everything that had been said and sold and bought and done in the lost hours of a hundred and fifty years of Saturday nights had seeped into the cold stone and left it wanting. From thirty k’s distance, from as far away as childhood, it was a little red light moving under you skin and we were all meant to be someone else by now. Melbourne, you promised.

Published 4 months ago

Ebb & Flow

An underwater video responding to Gemma White’s poem - The Mariner’s Lover for prod! Supported by media@rmit and the Australian Poetry Centre. Videographers: Emma Davies, Eliza Hull, Angeline Lim The Mariner's Lover by Gemma White It is not possible. Seas have upheaved upon us. It is not a surprise; I saw the new tide coming. It scared me from the first idle rip-wave. You couldn’t look that far ahead. It was too misty, you said. Besides, you could not tell which way you would drift. And you wanted to be billowed by any coming breeze, whirled into the eye of any ocean twister, following the tailfins, of any bejeweled sea heiress. For me it is different. I can no longer give anchor to this mirage of feeling. The albatross has flown. I thought, shooting it down could only bring me grief, but its death is a herald of relief, feathered hope whispering in, like discarded seagull plumes. He is touching me in the subtle dip and meet, of calami alighting water; free. My ancient love, I have lost your compass. And it seems, you have lost me.

Published 4 months ago

Flowerman

Stopmotion & timelapse video responding to Gemma White’s poem - The Mariner’s Lover for prod! Supported by media@rmit and the Australian Poetry Centre. Videographers: Emma Davies, Eliza Hull, Angeline Lim The Mariner's Lover by Gemma White It is not possible. Seas have upheaved upon us. It is not a surprise; I saw the new tide coming. It scared me from the first idle rip-wave. You couldn’t look that far ahead. It was too misty, you said. Besides, you could not tell which way you would drift. And you wanted to be billowed by any coming breeze, whirled into the eye of any ocean twister, following the tailfins, of any bejeweled sea heiress. For me it is different. I can no longer give anchor to this mirage of feeling. The albatross has flown. I thought, shooting it down could only bring me grief, but its death is a herald of relief, feathered hope whispering in, like discarded seagull plumes. He is touching me in the subtle dip and meet, of calami alighting water; free. My ancient love, I have lost your compass. And it seems, you have lost me.

Published 4 months ago

Set Adrift

Featuring contemporary dancer Verity McLucas; responding to Gemma White’s poem - The Mariner’s Lover for prod! Supported by media@rmit and the Australian Poetry Centre. Videographers: Emma Davies, Eliza Hull, Angeline Lim The Mariner's Lover by Gemma White It is not possible. Seas have upheaved upon us. It is not a surprise; I saw the new tide coming. It scared me from the first idle rip-wave. You couldn’t look that far ahead. It was too misty, you said. Besides, you could not tell which way you would drift. And you wanted to be billowed by any coming breeze, whirled into the eye of any ocean twister, following the tailfins, of any bejeweled sea heiress. For me it is different. I can no longer give anchor to this mirage of feeling. The albatross has flown. I thought, shooting it down could only bring me grief, but its death is a herald of relief, feathered hope whispering in, like discarded seagull plumes. He is touching me in the subtle dip and meet, of calami alighting water; free. My ancient love, I have lost your compass. And it seems, you have lost me.

Published 4 months ago

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