Tag Archives: climate change theatre action

Creating waves, performing change: Climate Change Theatre Action Aotearoa 2019

Key dates of Climate Change Theatre Action AotearoaPresented by the Wellington Creativity in the Community class of 2019, Climate Change Theatre Action (CCTA) Aotearoa 2019 – Ngaru Ngaru – is a multi-disciplinary fusion of theatre, performance art and practical action on climate change.

CCTA Aotearoa 2019 is part of the global Climate Change Theatre Action movement led by The Arctic Cycle, the Center for Sustainable Practice in the Arts, and Theatre Without Borders. CCTA is a worldwide series of readings and performances of short climate change plays presented biennially to coincide with the United Nations COP meetings.

Our CCTA Aotearoa event features four official Climate Change Theatre Action 2019 plays: Abhishek Majumdar’s ‘The Arrow’; Jordan Hall’s ‘The Donation’; Matthew Paul Olmos’ ‘Staring her Down’ and Stephen Sewell’s ‘The Reason’. The programme also features a zero-waste, anti-fast-fashion-inspired performance art promenade piece utilising litter found on our campus. Plus, two brand new devised performance poetry and movement works in which Māori and non-Māori students are working together to express how learning from Indigenous Māori values of spiritual connectedness with land, and kaitiakitanga (guardianship), can help us all reconceptualise the path forward for transforming the way we live.

Our event acknowledges the Te Reo Māori (Indigenous language) concept of ‘Ngaru Ngaru’, which translates roughly as ‘Riding the Wave’ or ‘Surfing the Wave’, but could also imply ‘Being the Wave’. Ngaru Ngaru is the third iteration of Massey University School of English & Media Studies at Wellington’s creative response to climate change. In 2015 we delivered ‘Waves’, starting ripples of climate change conversation and action within the community. In 2017 we followed up with ‘Still Waving’, to inspire our audiences that there is still hope in addressing the effects of climate change – things are dire, but we are not drowned yet.

This year, with ‘Ngaru Ngaru – Surfing the Wave’, we embrace the idea that now a global wave of people power is building, and there is a groundswell of action and hope that we can all find collective strength from. In our commitment to our creative work, we have been inspired by the School Strikes for Climate, Extinction Rebellion and similar groups. We are adding our creative voices to their courageous action, to inspire through arts, performance, and provocative street theatre. Together we are a global wave of change on many fronts.

a global wave of people power is building

As well as being a creative intervention, our event takes practical action by delivering on measurable targets of reducing, reusing, recycling and repairing to reduce our waste and carbon footprint wherever possible. Anything remaining in our calculations we are offsetting with native tree plantings (come to our events and you could get a free kawakawa seedling!).

We are documenting and tracking our carbon reduction efforts in order to develop and test a shareable ‘Carbon Neutral Theatre’ template for other future creative events.

– Wednesday October 16, 12.30pm, 5D14 Theatre Laboratory, Te Kunenga ki Pūrehuroa i Te Upoko O te Ika (Massey University Wellington Campus), Aotearoa (New Zealand). The full show with all our CCTA plays plus the devised and performance art works.

– Thursday October 17, 5.30pm, 5D14 Theatre Laboratory, Te Kunenga ki Pūrehuroa i Te Upoko O te Ika (Massey University Wellington Campus), Aotearoa (New Zealand). The full show with all our CCTA plays plus the devised and performance art works. Also features readings from our creative nonfiction class (who have also been working on ecological creativity) plus free vegan pizza for everyone!

– Saturday October 19, various waterfront & CBD locations, including Parliament Gardens, Lambton Quay and Cuba Mall, Te Whanganui-a-Tara (Wellington City), Aotearoa (New Zealand). A selection of our devised and performance art pieces translated into vibrant street performance. (Come for as little or as much as you like! Follow us on Facebook for exact times and locations!)

Follow us at https://www.facebook.com/ngarungaru.ccta/ for more details and updates counting down to Ngaru Ngaru – CCTA Aotearoa 2019. Join us, and be part of the tide of transformation.

Still Waving Climate Change Creative Writing Competition: Read the Winning Entries

We are delighted to have the authors’ permission to publish all the Still Waving Climate Change Creative Writing Competition shortlisted and winning entries. Congratulations to everyone who entered: the standard was uniformly high, and we were sorry we only had three prizes to award. Selecting just three was a challenge as there were so many fantastic pieces, and we have to say a huge thank you to our principal judge Dr Ingrid Horrocks, and to Dr Jack Ross, editor of Poetry NZ, who also assisted with the final results to make sure our judging was really thorough! Click on the titles below to read each item.

Winning climate change creative writing

We are delighted to bring you the winning short story in our Still Waving Climate Action Creative Writing competition.  From a very strong field, this is the piece chosen by our judges, creative writing lecturers Dr Ingrid Horrocks and Dr Jack Ross, as the outstanding item.  To read others of the top items, click here.

Image of green grass in closeup

Grass Still Grows

By Sharron McKenzie

Marianne pulled the cover over the printing press, and packed the last of the slim volumes in the bags on the floor. The nagging ache in her gut gave a sharp twinge as she bent down. Indigestion, she told herself, but she knew it wasn’t. Knowing did no good, anyway. No more chemo, no more wonder drugs. There hadn’t been a shipment of any drugs from overseas in years. These days, if you couldn’t make it locally, you went without.

She slung a bag over each shoulder and shuffled down the hallway, smiling at Mrs Niroshan, who was tiredly walking back and forth trying to quiet the baby. Behind the closed door of the second bedroom she could hear raised voices. At least the authorities were only sending her one refugee family at a time these days, while they waited for their place on the inland convoys. There had been times when she’d packed up to eighteen people into her three bedroom house.

Melba greeted Marianne with a loud “Meeeehhhh!” from her stall in the garage. The goat shifted impatiently as Marianne attached the carrier bags to her harness.

“Dude,” she said to the goat, as they walked out to the street. “Where’s my driver-less car?”

Melba knew the answer to that one. “Meee!”

“Goats go where goats want to go. I don’t think that counts as driver-less!”

She could feel warmth in the wind from the east, bringing a swampy stench with it. And barely spring yet, Marianne thought. The mosquitoes would be hatching in the brackish marsh that covered the remains of eastern Christchurch.

She could hear high pitched giggles as two little boys played in the water-filled pothole that spanned half the street, conducting a naval closeup of goatbattle with tiny ships made from flax stems. Dot’s granddaughter was hanging out washing in her front yard as Marianne passed, singing in a pure high soprano.

Rain still falls and the grass still grows,

Boy sees girl, you know how it goes.

Dot was leaning on the gate watching the kids, and Marianne stopped, yanking at Melba’s rope when she tried to sample a roadside patch of cabbages.

“Here,” Dot said. “I saved some carrot tops. Did you hear about the latest reading? 10.73 metres! I always wanted a seaside property.” She never seemed to tire of that joke.

“Better get that bikini ready,” Marianne countered, as she always did, and Dot cackled happily. The truth was there were no more beaches. There was no edge to the ocean any more. It had gulped down half the city, and vomited back a swamp of stinking mud and twisted wreckage.

The last ten years had been a frantic race against the tide to render down buildings and infrastructure to their constituent parts. Everything of possible use, including topsoil and trees was removed by the Locust Army, to be loaded onto the electric trucks travelling inland, to the new cities. Fairlie, Ranfurly, and even sleepy Naseby, had been transformed as the coastal refugees fled to higher ground.

Melba plodded around the corner, a carrot top dangling from her lips. Marianne let the goat pull her along, thinking back over the years. When was it? Was there one particular day? That day we finally realised things were never going to get better?

There were those pictures on the news, back when they still got television broadcasts. That shaky video shot with a phone from the last plane to leave Kiribati. The crowds pressing against the chain link fence at the airport. The wave of brown water churned up by the plane’s wheels as it moved down the runway. The view of that young woman below, waist deep in the swirling water, holding up her baby over her head, mouth open in a silent O as the plane lifted away. Was it then, when the first nation drowned? Or had they still thought something could be done?

Was it the summer the farmers built pyres of black and white carcasses, sending columns of stinking smoke rising up from the plains, after the ships stopped coming and the dairy industry collapsed?

Was it the winter that the flood waters covered south Dunedin, the Hutt Valley and Greymouth, and never receded?

Or that summer the meteorologists added new colours to their temperature maps, and half of Australia went up in flames? Or the autumn that the first F6 hurricane hit the Caribbean joined up?

Was it the neo-dengue fever epidemic of 2037, or Black Tuesday when the banks went down for good?

Or that one terrible night when a dirty bomb rendered Sydney uninhabitable. And then likewise Chicago, Los Angeles, Tel Aviv, Manchester and Marseilles? Or the vicious twelve day war that turned both North and South Korea into radioactive wastelands, and the last frantic flailing ‘accidental’ missile strikes that took out Japan and half the coastal cities of China?

Marianne shook her head. Maybe it was a different day for everyone who’d lived through the last twenty five years. She tied Melba to a post outside the old supermarket, now filled with a combination farmer’s market and traveling garage sale. A hand painted sign in the window of the old pharmacy offered “Books, Drugs and News for Sale. Gossip for Free.”

Marianne stuck her head in the door. “Hey, Sam,” she said. “Got a fresh batch for you.”

“Marianne, lovely to see you,” Sam said, stepping outside to help her carry the bags inside. He laid the slim volumes on the counter, one hand absently scratching the lumpy melanoma on his left ear.

“Diphtheria, symptoms and treatment,” he read slowly. ”What else have we got here? Goat husbandry, compost toilet construction, Ross River virus, radio operation and repair. Excellent. Riveting reading as always, Marianne.”

“At least I achieved my life’s ambition,” she said, with mock hauteur. “I am a published author, with sales in the hundreds.”

“We should have a book launch party.”

“Oh yes, with wine, and those little canapes on silver trays!”

Sam laughed. “I really don’t know where I’d get the smoked salmon and crackers.” He took out a small notepad and added up some figures.

“With what you brought me today, here’s what you have to spend. What can I get for you?”

She was looking out the window at the hills. “Something from the back room. I need 200 mg of morphine, Sam.”

“Oh, my dear,” he said. “So soon?”

She avoided his eyes. “Not yet. But I’d like to be ready. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be mobile.”

He looked at her for a moment longer, then turned and unlocked the door behind the counter. He returned with a small plastic container.

“Send word when it’s time,” he said, coming with her to the door. “I’ll come around.”

“I will,” she promised. “I’ve put some books aside for you.”Springtime grassy hillside

Outside, Melba had finished the carrot tops and was chewing on her lead rope, a thoughtful expression on her face.

“Come on, you silly goat,” Marianne said. “Let’s go to the park and you can have grass for lunch.”

“Meh,” Melba said, agreeably.

Marianne looked up at the green hills as they walked. Rain still falls and the grass still grows, she thought. Maybe I have not had that one particular day yet.

Climate Change Creative Writing – Third Place Winner

“Recycling Worlds: A Collation of Works”

By Melanie Ferguson

Author’s note: “This piece deliberately enacts a recycling, by reusing and repurposing fragments of older works, that are fully referenced in footnotes. The words used are from four countries and three centuries, connecting ideas across time and space. All borrowings of material in this essay are limited to brief passages used for critical purposes, and are fully acknowledged in the references. I apologise in advance for any inadvertent infringements of copyright, which I will be happy to rectify as soon as they are brought to my attention.”

I stood in my garden pulling loquats off the tree and eating them to be full of spring[1]; a tree that may have spent further time as a house or classroom, or a bridge or pier. Or further time could be spent floating on the sea or river, or sucked into a swamp, or stopping a bank, or sprawled on a beach bleaching among the sand, stones and sun[2].

The train went on up the track out of sight, around one of the hills of burnt timber[3]. And further west on the upper reaches the place of the monstrous town was still marked ominously on the sky, a brooding gloom in sunshine, a lurid glare under the stars[4]. I said his heaven would be only half alive; and he said mine would be drunk; I said I should fall asleep in his; and he said he could not breathe in mine[5]. A ray peers into the room of your eye . . . . Why is our art so introverted? It doesn’t mean a thing – to the seagull or sun – the clouds don’t understand – a word – their language is silence[6]. His mouth opens. From inside him comes a slow stream, without breath, without interruption. It flows up through his body and out upon me… washing the cliffs and shores of the island, it runs northward and southward to the ends of the earth. Soft and cold, dark and unending, it beats against my eyelids, against the skin on my face[7]. And if several people talk at once an overlapping howling noise begins, echoes generate echoes[8]; our apparitions, the part of us which appears, are so momentary compared with the other, the unseen part of us, which spreads wide, the unseen might survive, be recovered somehow attached to this person or that, or even haunting certain places, after death. Perhaps – perhaps[9]; the tree, after a lifetime of fruiting, has, after its first death, a further fruiting at the hands of a master. This does not mean that the man is the master of the tree… He is master only of the skills that bring forward what was already waiting in the womb of the tree[10].The new things born there console or constellate they measure space they keep time. But who wrote this story? And before writing who told it to us that we tell it over and over? [11] With what ineffable pleasure have I not gazed – and gazed again, losing my breath through my eyes – my very soul diffused itself in the scene[12]; You are of me and I of you, I cannot tell – Where you leave off and I begin[13].

[1] Michele Leggott, “a woman, a rose, and what has it to do with her and they with one another?”, as far as I can see. Auckland: Auckland University Press, 1999.

[2] Patricia Grace, p. 7, Potiki. 1986. Auckland: Penguin, 2010.

[3] Ernest Hemingway, p. 133, “Big Two Hearted River: Part I.” In Out Time. 1925. New York: Macmillan, 2003.

[4] Joseph Conrad, p.5, Heart of Darkness. 1899. London: Penguin, 2007.

[5] Emily Bronte, p. 180, Wuthering Heights. 1847. Great Britain: Wordsworth Editions, 2000,

[6] Graham Lindsay, from “Cloud Silence” The Subject. 1994. Retrieved from NZEPC Oct. 5th, 2017.

[7] J.M. Coetzee, p. 157, Foe. 1986. London: Penguin, 2010.

[8] E.M. Forster, p. 137, A Passage to India. 1924. London: Penguin, 2010.

[9] Virginia Woolf, p. 129-30, Mrs Dalloway. 1925. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009.

[10] Patricia Grace, p. 7, Potiki. 1986. Auckland: Penguin, 2010.

[11] Michele Leggott, from the back cover of DIA. Auckland: Auckland University Press, 1994.

[12] Mary Wollstonecraft, p.72, Letters Written during a Short Residence in Sweden, Norway, and Denmark. 1796. Canada: Broadview Press, 2013.

[13] Susan Howe, Articulation of Sound Forms in Time. Windsor, VT: Awede, 1987.

Climate Change Creative Writing – Shortlisted

A Mother’s Fury

By Eden Shearer

Mother will not stop yelling

She is casting cyclones

That are destroying precious lives


She has become a home-wrecker

Sowing the seeds

Of volcanic eruptions


She is angry

Causing innocent feet

To flee from their homes

To run far away


We are too scared to look her in the eye

So we keep running

Hoping for grass that is greener on the other side

Only to find that there is nothing left


When will we learn

To stop arguing with our Mother

And to start implementing change?


It is about time we cleaned up our mess

And as they always say, Mother knows best


It is too late to diffuse her temper completely

But we can still use our actions

To decelerate her intensity


Let’s turn mindlessness

Into mindfulness


Oh Mother Earth, we can hear you.


Climate Change Creative Writing – Shortlisted


By Janet Newman


The river always

finds a way

down from the ranges

through the plain

to the sea


although sometimes it takes

a circuitous route

around corrals of cliffs,

through macrocarpa roots,

sometimes cross country,

clear across old stones


because the river has a way

of folding back

on its way forward,

lengthening and stretching out long and wide

as it takes its time


as it longs to find its way

by longing for the sea


and in longing reveals

the length of its persistence


which is something to long for

however slow


the way any life

sometimes doubles back,

folding and looping


because the river

always finds the sea

by following

a doubtless course


sometimes doubling back

but always moving



Climate Change Creative Writing – Second Place Winner


By Janet Newman*

When the floodwaters rose up

covering the plain with mirrors and veils


our backyards looked like other people’s

and the roads we drove failed under rivers


that seemed to have been there longer than we had.

Belongings stacked on pool tables sagged.


Sixteen sand bags might as well have been a cache of illegal toheroas

for all the good they could muster


against the weight of water

spilling over the stopbanks.


When the floodwaters rose up

we sank down


into our steamed-up cars if we could find them,

our fire-warmed lounges if we could reach them,


watching the rain gauge, the tide times,

the insurance claim, the surge line.


We wrote everything down in the record books

but the numbers didn’t look like much


because we’d stopped feeling

like we were the ones who counted.


When the floodwaters rose up

we sank back down to the bush


with the weka

and the powelliphanta snails


and the katipo

clinging to waterlogged webs


and peketua, paddling,

holding up their heads.

*Flood was first published in Atlanta Review (New Zealand) Spring/Summer 2017 and is republished here with kind permission of the editor.


Penguins on stage and street in climate change action – Massey University

Donning Catherine Bagnall's costumes for the 'Becoming Penguin' walk are fourth year fashion students Jacob Coutie, Jordie Agnew and Hannah Tate.

Donning Catherine Bagnall’s costumes for the ‘Becoming Penguin’ walk are fourth year fashion students Jacob Coutie, Jordie Agnew and Hannah Tate.

Using theatre to turn people into penguins is a symbolic way to highlight some of the planet’s most vulnerable species in this year’s global Still Waving: Climate Change Theatre Action events in Wellington.

Co-organiser Massey University’s Associate Professor Elspeth Tilley says a number of Massey staff and students will become “human penguins” on stage and in the streets of Wellington this Labour Weekend. They are showcasing how artists and performers can respond to environmental and social issues – in this case, the serious threat of global warming to the existence of Antarctica’s penguin populations.

Her new play, The Penguins, is being performed in 14 locations worldwide from Paris to Shanghai and the United States, as well as at Massey’s Wellington campus on Labour Day (October 23). It is one of nine short plays on climate change featured at this year’s Still Waving: Climate Change Theatre Action event at Massey – part of a six-week global movement to highlight climate change issues through performance.

In a thematic prelude, participants will take to the streets of central Wellington in the “Becoming Penguin” performance walk, starting at the Cenotaph at Parliament at 1pm and heading to Massey University. Participants (everyone welcome) are invited to join the walk wearing whatever black and white items they have in their wardrobe that lend a penguin “look”.

Creator of “Becoming Penguin”, Massey lecturer in the School of Design | Ngā Pae Māhutonga, Catherine Bagnall, is an artist whose work focuses on the edges of fashion studies and its intersection with performance practices.

“In the context of questions about humanity’s relationship to the planetary ecosystem and how we categorise ‘other’ species, ‘Becoming Penguin’ explores ideas about the end of the Anthropocene and the beginning of the post-human world,” Ms Bagnall says.

The walk, she says, is to “symbolise support for all the communities taking personal responsibility for climate action at a local level, when governments won’t.”

World premieres staged

Following the “Becoming Penguin” walk, a cast of 23 – including well-known Wellington professional actors alongside Massey students and staff – will stage nine climate action plays by writers of Jamaican, Portuguese, Native American, Australian, New Zealand, Samoan, Canadian and US descent at the campus Theatre Laboratory from 2pm.

“The programme includes two world premieres – a short play by Samoan writer/director Ian Lesā about Pacific Island climate change issues, and one by Kat Laveaux, a playwright from the Lakota tribe in the United States, who visited Massey University earlier this year as part of the National Expedition and Internship Programme, and became keen to participate in Climate Change Theatre Action,” says Dr Tilley.

Also featuring is work by another School of English and Media Studies playwright, Philip Braithwaite, whose short play “Swing Among the Stars”, about colonising Mars, is scheduled for nine Climate Change Theatre Action performances globally.

In her play, Dr Tilley explores human behaviour and attitudes from another species’ perspective (one in which the males ‘stay home’ and look after the young) to provide an innovative and often hilarious framework into which serious ideas can be woven.

“It’s also a way of giving people hope. Penguins have been around for 60 million years, whereas humans have been on the planet for about two million years,” she says. “I think it’s important not to hit people in the face with a message.”

Art and creativity on social issues

Dr Tilley, a lecturer in theatre studies in the School of English and Media Studies – including the Creativity in the Community paper (in which students apply skills in theatre, performance, film-making, creative writing, media practice or mixed media to developing a creative response to a social issue or community need) – is the author of several award-winning plays on climate change and social issues, and producer of the biennial Aotearoa Climate Change Theatre Action events, launched in 2015.

She says the process of creating and performing theatre about a difficult and daunting topic can be empowering for participants and audiences.

“People get bombarded with information about climate change and the doom-filled scenarios – the result is that people become complacent and switch off,” she says. “The performances in Still Waving will entertain, console and confront you with works that are humorous and intense, problem-illuminating and solution-focused, powerful, sometimes funny, sometimes catastrophic, often moving and inspirational.”

All proceeds from the Still Waving event go to youth-led climate action group Generation Zero, which is campaigning for a zero carbon New Zealand economy.

For more information, check out the Still Waving: Climate Change Theatre Action Facebook page.

Source: Penguins on stage and street in climate change action – Massey University

Still Waving: Climate Change Theatre Action

CCTA Aotearoa's Nine Playwrights

CCTA Aotearoa’s Nine Playwrights

With only a few days to go until Still Waving: Climate Change Theatre Action Aotearoa 2017, we are excited to bring you the full programme.

On October 23, we will be staging nine short plays at 2pm in the Massey University Wellington Theatre Laboratory:

  • Start Where You Are, by E. M. Lewis – a poignant look at how to remain hopeful in the face of calamity, by an award-winning Oregon-based playwright
  • The Penguins, by Elspeth Tilley – lifting our spirits through comedy as we find out what penguins think of humanity
  • Truth Like Water, by Kat Laveaux – premiering a compassionate view of the world from an emerging Native American playwright whose tribe stands in defiance at the Dakota Access Pipeline protests
  • A Girl’s Dance, by Ian Lesā – also a world premiere: a powerfully spiritual work from a new voice, Samoan New Zealand playwright and director Ian Lesā
  • Brackendale, by Elaine Ávila – a wry comedy about Bald Eagles and rubbish dumps, from a Canadian/US writer of Azorean Portuguese descent
  • Single Use, by Marcia Johnson – a Jamaican playwright’s very modern sketch of online dating in the 21st century and how we decide what’s important in a partner
  • Swing Among the Stars, by Philip Braithwaite – an interstellar future, from the imagination of a multi-award-winning New Zealand playwright
  • Homo Sapiens, by Chantal Bilodeau – a trip to the zoo, a century from now. What will be on exhibit? A provocative comedy from the co-founder of Climate Change Theatre Action, and;
  • Rube Goldberg Device for The Generation of Hope, by Jordan Hall – an interactive experience that will get you off your feet, from a fresh and inspirational Canadian playwright.

There will also be readings of the three winning pieces in our Climate Change Theatre Action Creative Writing Competition, and a short talk from Generation Zero about what you can do to pitch in in the fight against climate change.

Still Waving is a paperless event, so please download our full programme in a PDF file, here for more detail of cast and crew: Still Waving Final Programme PDF 3

If you haven’t got your ticket yet, get one now from EventFinda: https://www.eventfinda.co.nz/2017/still-waving-climate-change-theatre-action-aotearoa-2017/wellington

And don’t forget, you can also join the ‘Becoming Penguin’ Performance Walk just prior to Still Waving if you’re keen – details at http://sites.massey.ac.nz/expressivearts/2017/08/30/becoming-penguin-a-performance-walk/


Becoming Penguin, a Performance Walk.

King Penguin Couple. Photo credit David Stanley (Creative Commons 2.0)

King Penguin Couple. Photo: David Stanley (Creative Commons 2.0)

In your white shirts and black tails, in your navy-blue dresses or in wetsuits and flippers or anything ‘penguin’ from your wardrobe please come and join us on a waddle, a ‘becoming penguin’ performance walk. If you have nothing penguin in your wardrobe, come with a penguin state of mind and we will supply you with some penguin apparel.

As part of Still Waving: Climate Change Theatre Action Aotearoa, performance artist Catherine Bagnall will lead the walk from Parliament grounds up to Massey University Wellington, where the climate change play ‘The Penguins’ will be performed, along with other climate action plays from Aotearoa and the world. Walking from Parliament into the community symbolises the theme of Climate Change Theatre Action 2017 – that there are steps communities can take to act together and make a positive difference, even when governments won’t. And that every step, however small, is important.
It’s free to join the Becoming Penguin performance walk: if you then want to stay for the theatre action show, tickets to see the plays are available by small koha to Generation Zero and can be purchased from https://www.eventfinda.co.nz/2017/still-waving-climate-change-theatre-action-aotearoa-2017/wellington
To join ‘Becoming Penguin’, meet at the Cenotaph next to Parliament Grounds at 1pm on Monday October 23.
Catherine Bagnall is an artist whose work focuses on the edges of fashion studies and its intersection with performance practices. Testing the bounds of self through performative acts of ‘dressing up’, her research offers new modes of experience that use performance to explore the possibility of becoming ‘other’, a different species for example. In the context of questions about humanity’s relationship to the planetary ecosystem and how we categorise ‘other’ species, ‘Becoming Penguin’ explores ideas about the end of the Anthropocene and the beginning of the post-human world.
See more about Still Waving: Climate Change Theatre Action Aotearoa 2017 at https://www.facebook.com/events/163701054197372/
Still Waving is part of the worldwide series of CCTA readings and performances of short climate change plays presented biennially in support of the United Nations Conference of the Parties. CCTA is organised globally by the Center for Sustainable Practice in the Arts, NoPassport Theatre Alliance, The Arctic Cycle and Theatre Without Borders. CCTA Aotearoa is brought to you by Massey University School of English & Media Studies, in partnership with Massey University Ngā Pae Māhutonga – the School of Design, Generation Zero, and Pukeahu ki Tua: Think Differently Wellington.