Rural Utopias Residency: Tina Stefanou in Carnamah #5
Tina Stefanou is currently working with the community of Carnamah. This residency forms part of one of Spaced’s current programs, Rural Utopias.
Tina Stefanou is an Australian-Greek artist based on Wurundjeri country in Wattle Glen, Victoria. With a background as a vocalist, she works undisciplined, with and across a diverse range of mediums, practices, approaches and labours: an embodied practice that she calls voice in the expanded field. Informed by diasporic experiences, Stefanou engages in sound as social practice and explores with and beyond the all-too-human and more-than-human voice.
Here, Tina shares an update from stage 2 of her residency…
March 1st, 2023:
"I'm not suicidal, I'm homicidal," declares a man wearing a cochlear implant as he plonks himself opposite me. We are both savouring our medium-rare steaks on a Wednesday night at Carnamah Pub. Even the axolotls in the corner seem slightly unsettled by his remark. I relax into my body, trying not to invoke thoughts of the Australian Gothic. Shane, who openly identifies as a 'shit kicker', spends long days on farms digging holes for soil testing. Initially, he had difficulty understanding me, but as the meal progressed, he no longer needed me to repeat myself. His blue eyes and weathered skin are marked with countless stories. An ex-army veteran, now dealing with PTSD, he prefers working alone, enabling him to vent his violent moods without causing harm to others. In many ways, he reminds me of my cousin Nick, a closet philosopher dressed in Hi-Viz.
One notable aspect of the ethnic working-class, Shane remarks, is their ability to generate wealth through collectively advancing within their community and pursuing larger goals together. In contrast, Shane thinks many Anglos or WASPs squander their earnings on beer and similar indulgences, living as lone wolves. Politically, Shane aligns himself with the National party, remarking "I’m not a dick," which is why he wouldn't vote for the Greens. As our discussion evolved, the divide at the table widened, and I maintained an open and playful stance, hoping our differing politics wouldn't create a rift between us. Animatedly waving his knife in the air, Shane proclaimed that if everyone on the planet flushed their toilets simultaneously, we would end up with no water. I shared that I didn't have a flushing toilet at home, sparking a moment of connection between us.
Shane expressed his belief in coal and his scepticism toward green energy, acknowledging the flaws of capitalism and the impending environmental collapse. He noted that he has to dig much deeper in the soil to find healthy ground for the farmers, something he has noticed changing over the past 10 years. He sees many left-leaning environmentalists as hypocrites and doesn't consider solar energy to be a viable solution. Surprisingly, I found myself partially agreeing with his views. We both recognised the dirty nature of politics, often dominated by exclusive men's clubs. Reflecting on Australian politician Pauline Hanson, I explained the class paradoxes surrounding her, which made Shane burst into laughter, labelling her the "red-haired clown." As our conversation continued, I explained to him why I support the Greens. We steered away from coal tensions, instead discussing the importance of health, housing, wealth distribution, and other crucial issues. Surprisingly, he understood my logic without attempting to convince me that I was wrong. The primary reason he voted for the National party in state elections was that they would call him back when he reached out to them about issues and policies—an indication of his active engagement as a voter.
Laughter became a common thread between us, with Shane enjoying my occasional swearing and me delighting in his “shit kicker” philosophies. Softness would occasionally appear on his face, embodying a familiar working-class understanding of political incorrectness and relational contextualities. For Shane, everything holds artistic potential if you love assembling things, whether you are a shit kicker or an artist. He believed that both pursuits involved sculpting experiences using a diverse array of tools. Love, he insists, is the key ingredient for artfulness.
After we finished our steaks, our knives freshly licked, we bid each other farewell. He wishes me good luck, and I reciprocate.
Images courtesy of the artist.
