There is a certain vulnerability that circulates women-based needs and gratification, specifically the independence and initiative needed to meet those needs.
Any time we put something on our heads, whether it be a headband; hat; or, in my case, a hijab, there is always the slight chance something can go wrong.
Ashley Cullen’s paintings engage with raw emotional states usually attributed to women to expose the risks (and pleasures) of being vulnerable and abandoning facades of composure and control.
Attending the Canberra strike, amidst my recent anxiety and despair about the earth burning and everything dying, I was reminded that a whole of bunch of people care and are in this together. We feel that we are in a turning point in history, and that if we don’t do something now, our future will be unthinkable. In some ways, that is true.
From Instagram memes to natal charts, astrology has had a long and unspoken sense of prominence in many people’s searches for identity. Is there any value in turning to the occult for answers?
On one hand, the overuse of the female body as an object of spectacle objectifies, sexualises, and reinforces dangerous notions of female passivity. On the other, the raw, undeniable beauty of the female form ought to be celebrated, and makes for some breathtaking art. Is it, then, simply too lovely to censor?
The historical narratives that we are typically fed in educational and mainstream spaces often prioritise white history and white culture. Where is the ‘other’ side of history?
At the end of another re-watch, having by now contributed significantly to the video’s 50 million views, I still feel somewhat blindsided. I argue that Styles’ breadcrumbing of bisexual symbolism has culminated in a brand that serves him well.
The nervous stranger, observed by 280 eyes, shuffles her feet uncomfortably and begins. “So… let’s talk about sex,” she mumbles.
Neve Traynor reflects on Monday’s March4Justice in Canberra.