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RNZ News
19-06-2025
- Entertainment
- RNZ News
Underwater musical experience
science media 1:25 pm today If you were at a particular public pool in Melbourne this week you may have seen an unusual sight. Saturate, is an underwater musical experience staged as part of the city's Rising festival. It involved around 60 people together in a public pool listening to the music, underwater. Saturate is the brainchild of sound artist Sara Retallick, who joins Jesse from Melbourne.
ABC News
13-06-2025
- Entertainment
- ABC News
Rising festival 'sound experience' Saturate asks audiences to jump in a pool
It's not every performance that requires an audience member to strip down to their togs. So, from the outset, Saturate, an underwater musical "experience" on during this year's Rising festival, establishes that it's little bit different. Picture 60 or so people together in a public pool — the historic City Baths in the centre of Naarm/Melbourne — serenely sharing what is usually a very active space. "Your ears need to be underneath the water to hear the sound composition in its full frequency spectrum, which means that you need to be either diving under the water or floating on your back," the show's creator, sound artist Sara Retallick, says. Retallick, who has produced and performed different underwater listening experiences — including at Rising 2021, and Brunswick Music Festival — says her underwater composition presents a "really different way of listening". "We're geared towards imagining sound [under water] to be quite muffled, [for example] if you were to listen to a radio that was submerged in water or someone singing or talking under water. "But because I'm using underwater speakers that are designed for this process, the clarity of the sound is actually really quite incredible." She's deliberately used instrumentation that couldn't acoustically be performed under water — "air-reliant instruments" like flutes or voice, and electronics — which she presents under water with clarity. Some of the sound is also recordings of water. "It's designed to get people thinking about whether they're hearing the sound composition or hearing the water around them. [It's] sort of playing with reality versus recording. "So it's this very different encounter with sound." Retallick is keen to ease her audiences into the show, which "starts in a fairly gentle way". Front of mind is that she's asking her audiences — disrobed, submerged in water — "to be in quite a vulnerable position". "That's definitely something that has a been a theme through all of these underwater works that I've made, is that that care for the audience is really important and the whole journey becomes part of the work. "So, of course there's the sound work itself, which is the main thing, but then how people move through the venue and through the change rooms and all of that, I also consider a very big part of the work." To refine her compositions, she jumps in a pool herself, to test scaled-down versions of the sound. She's even found an "Airbnb for pools" so she can use a private pool for a few hours at a time to listen as her audiences would. "A lot of my compositional process uses sound and digital processing to create quite unique sounds and I've really thought about — listening under water myself and getting a sense of what sounds work quite well and what sounds don't work as well and what frequencies respond well under water." The process of making the work has presented plenty of things to think about that she wouldn't have had to consider if she'd presented her composition in a concert venue or other "normal music venue". "So there's all of these considerations that come into play." Saturate runs for 24 minutes and 37 seconds, which is a very purposeful duration: it's the same duration as the longest breath held under water. And, for Retallick, seeing bathers-wearing audience members experience it in a state of deep, focused listening is a joy. "[It's] incredible for me as a sound artist because that's what I was hoping to get out of this work; to present something that would encourage audiences to really tune in. "And I guess the gesture of inviting people to actually fully submerge their bodies in water in order to access the sound means that they're committing a lot to the work, to being able to experience that listening." Retallick has discovered, over years of practice, that something very particular occurs in audiences' bodies during her underwater shows. "I came across this realisation that we listen really differently under water. So, when we're submerged in water, in a pool or in the ocean, we listen through bone conduction hearing. [That] means that the sound vibrates through the skull and the bones in our skull, and the jawbone, rather than passing through the ear canal as it would if you're listening above water or through air. "So that gives the sound this very close quality. It almost sounds like it's inside your head and we sort of lose the directionality of the sound, so it's like the sound composition is coming from all directions at once." Saturate is on as part of Rising festival, running June 14-15.
SBS Australia
09-06-2025
- 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. 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The Guardian
05-06-2025
- 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.
