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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 9 months ago
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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 9 months ago
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Red Dot
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.
Published 10 months ago
