Arriving back into Heritage Bank Auditorium today was much easier than yesterday. I had established a path; a routine. 

I was running late from a breakfast invitation by Scotia Monkivitch from The Creative Recovery Network and Julie Barratt from Woorabinda Arts , so scurried quietly through the dim lit space to find my seat from yesterday still available. 

Efron Daliri was speaking, and I was mesmerised. The subject strong on how so much of what we do is based on being culturally informed. Every word had power; proactive political punch. How deep structural views that cannot be resolved with one cultural viewpoint alone. How we are in a world in great need and that artists have positions to do something about it. 

He then opened up the analogy and connection to The Secret Life of Trees. Another book that I wish I had the time to read. But I must keep occupying my time to provide and empower within a creative space in the regional arts to those who are silenced or oppressed…..Or just need to have a good ‘ol fashioned moan! 

There are 10,000 ethnicities in the world , where each of these have different ways of expressing social change. 

So how do we go about having an outcome where all the cultures come together? That’s right, it hasn’t happened yet. 

Efron goes on to say that all art is not absolute – it doesn’t have to fit into one category. And  there is nothing wrong with self-expression, but as creatives we need to amplifying art for social change. 

When Gabrielle Chan arrived on the screen to speak, I immediately nodded my head. 

“Why you should give a fuck about farming” resonated with me. 

I’m a farmers daughter. Born ‘n bred on a sheep and wheat farm in the Pyrenees Region of Victoria. 

And from a very early age, the farm was my creative space. 

My Masters degree was on Agricultural design as a metaphor for comfort zones; my thesis entitled ‘Where the Fences Guide you at the Gates Introduce You’. 

I took very little notes, because what she said (in a much more articulate fashion than I ever could), I understood. 

So I brought her book for my Dad, in the hope that one day he will understand why I was digging the paddocks soil up the create word ‘OUT’ for the postgraduate exhibition on that particular day .