on being provocative
When Teresa Crea invited me to the Thinking Through The City Incubating Creativity Forum for the City of Norwood, Payneham and St. Peters, she suggested that I might like to be a provocateur. I like rocking the boat as much as the next person, but I felt that what the council is trying to achieve didn’t need that much provocation. Entering the ring of creative and digital industries through an engagement with community, business and creative practitioners seems eminently sensible. Of course that is not exactly what Teresa meant, but as it turned out it was not a role that was hugely necessary on the night. The conversations that developed during the forum, while diverse, had strong themes that demonstrated a real readiness to embrace a new way of thinking about how arts and creativity can work with business. This progressive conversation also served to highlight some of the less imaginative ways of thinking that have been plaguing a deeper engagement between creativity, community and business.
a quiet riot in norwood
It was only a few weeks ago that I return from London, thinking about all the wonderful things I had seen and how they might relate to City of Norwood Payneham & St Peters; ideas about place making and the notion of community building (things for the next blog instalment). Then just over a week ago, Britain and particularly London was gripped by social anarchy and I start thinking how on earth did this happen.
At the end of July, I was in Dalston and Hackney, soaking up a vibrant and emerging community spirit. Self-assured, adaptive and expressing a local sense of community that brought together all walks of life. The regeneration of Dalston appeared to be springing up everywhere, almost as an antidote to the hard economic times that are gripping the country. Local people (the tax payers) are now deciding how Council’s limited budgets should be spent. They, not Council, are deciding what is important and in the case of Dalston, the community have started with their open spaces, pocket parks and community gardens – places that they valued.
So how could the riots happen, when this community was starting to thrive? How could things change so quickly and what were the causes. Last week, I started to understand some of the reasons.
at don’s table
The last time I met Don Dunstan was in his restaurant “Don’s Table” on the Parade. He wasn’t well then, but he still enjoyed greeting his customers and having a chat over a glass of wine. That night he was serving the bread, going from table to table, with a basket and tongs. At the time I thought it was a beautiful and humble thing for such a visionary ex-premier to be doing. The thought came back to me recently as I was walking down the Parade, and I started to write this poem.
MEETING THE GHOST OF DON DUNSTAN ON NORWOOD PARADE
He slipped out of the median-strip trees,
carrying a humble bread roll
on a white china plate –
“Here,” he said, “A gift from the Shades.
You’re still dining out at my table.”
Heads turned at the sidewalk cafés,
all the fine-looking women of Norwood
sensing a presence, but still un-fazed.
“You’ve all gone back to sleep!” Don said,
“I wanted a renaissance, not a dormitory with malls.
i liked pliny, parsee eggs , and young men -
and I made a few mistakes.
No-one’s perfect.
It’s necessary to break open some tombs
if you intend to raise a dead state.”
Then parrots shrieked past
flying over the red galvo roof of the grandstand.
Still holding his serving tongs, the ghost began to fade –
disappearing into the listless night
of shop signs and car lights blinking along The Parade.
Mike Ladd South Australian Poet
