Добірка наукової літератури з теми "George French Angas"

Clauss, Martin / Christoph Nübel (Hrsg.), Militärisches Entscheiden. Voraussetzungen, Prozesse und Repräsentationen einer sozialen Praxis von der Antike bis zum 20. Jahrhundert (Krieg und Konflikt, 9), Frankfurt a. M. / New York 2020, Campus, 496 S. / Abb., € 52,00. (Jörg Rogge, Mainz) Scheller, Benjamin (Hrsg.), Kulturen des Risikos im Mittelalter und in der Frühen Neuzeit (Schriften des Historischen Kollegs. Kolloquien, 99), Berlin / Boston 2019, de Gruyter Oldenbourg, IX u. 278 S. / Abb., € 69,95. (Christian Wenzel, Marburg) Eisenbichler, Konrad (Hrsg.)‚ A Companion to Medieval and Early Modern Confraternities (Brill’s Companions to the Christian Tradition, 83), Leiden / Boston 2019, Brill, XVI u. 475 S. / Abb., € 215,00. (Nikolas Funke, Münster) Das, Nandini / Tim Youngs (Hrsg.), The Cambridge History of Travel Writing, Cambridge [u. a.] 2019, Cambridge University Press, XVIII u. 639 S. / Abb., £ 135,00. (Michael Maurer, Jena) Baumann, Anette / Sabine Schmolinsky / Evelien Timpener (Hrsg.), Raum und Recht. Visualisierung von Rechtsansprüchen in der Vormoderne (Bibliothek Altes Reich, 29), Berlin / Boston 2020, de Gruyter Oldenbourg, VIII u. 183 S. / Abb., € 59,95. (Falk Bretschneider, Paris) Carpegna Falconieri, Tommaso di, The Militant Middle Ages. Contemporary Politics between New Barbarians and Modern Crusaders, übers. v. Andrew M. Hiltzik (National Cultivation of Culture, 20), Leiden / Boston 2020, Brill, XI u. 281 S., € 138,00. (Martin Clauss, Chemnitz) Kitapçı Bayrı, Buket, Warriors, Martyrs, and Dervishes. Moving Frontiers, Shifting Identities in the Land of Rome (13th-15th Centuries) (The Medieval Mediterranean, 119), Leiden / Boston 2020, Brill, X u. 259 S. / Karten, € 99,00. (Mihailo Popović, Wien) Cristea, Ovidiu / Liviu Pilat (Hrsg.), From Pax Mongolica to Pax Ottomanica. War, Religion and Trade in the Northwestern Black Sea Region (14th-16th Centuries) (East Central and Eastern Europe in the Middle Ages, 450 – 1450, 58), Leiden / Boston 2020, Brill, VI u. 321 S., € 105,00. (Markus Koller, Bochum) Jones, Linda G. / Adrienne Dupont-Hamy (Hrsg.), Christian, Jewish, and Muslim Preaching in the Mediterranean and Europe. Identities and Interfaith Encounters (Sermo, 15), Turnhout 2019, Brepols, VI u. 337 S. / Abb., € 90,00. (Sina Rauschenbach, Potsdam) Catlos, Brian A., al-Andalus. Geschichte des islamischen Spanien, München 2019, Beck, 491 S. / Abb., € 29,95. (Matthias Maser, Erlangen) Glick, Thomas F. / Antonio Malpica / Félix Retamero / Josep Torró (Hrsg.), From Al-Andalus to the Americans (13th–17th Centuries). Destruction and Construction of Societies (The Medieval and Early Modern Iberian World, 65), Leiden / Boston 2018, Brill, XIII u. 471 S. / Abb., € 127,00. (Ludolf Pelizaeus, Amiens) Hamilton, Tracy Chapman / Mariah Proctor-Tiffany (Hrsg.), Moving Women Moving Objects (400 – 1500) (Maps, Spaces, Cultures, 2), Leiden / Boston 2019, Brill, XXIX und 346 S. / Abb., € 149,00. (Sabine Klapp, Kaiserslautern) Makowski, Elizabeth, Apostate Nuns in the Later Middle Ages (Studies in the History of Medieval Religion, 49), Woodbridge 2019, The Boydell Press, XIV u. 227 S., £ 60,00. (Christine Kleinjung, Münster) Dickason, Kathryn, Ringleaders of Redemption. How Medieval Dance Became Sacred (Oxford Studies in Historical Theology), New York 2021, Oxford University Press, XV u. 369 S. / Abb., £ 64,00. (Gregor Rohmann, Frankfurt a. M.) Clauss, Martin / Gesine Mierke / Antonia Krüger (Hrsg.), Lautsphären des Mittelalters. Akustische Perspektiven zwischen Lärm und Stille (Beihefte zum Archiv für Kulturgeschichte, 89), Wien / Köln / Weimar 2020, Böhlau, 340 S. / Abb., € 65,00. (Karl Kügle, Oxford / Utrecht) Geßner, Kerstin, Die Vermessung des Kosmos. Zur geometrischen Konstruktion von urbanem Raum im europäischen Mittelalter, Wien / Köln / Weimar 2020, Böhlau, 341 S. / Abb., € 45,00. (Felix Rösch, Göttingen) Hirbodian, Sigrid / Andreas Schmauder / Petra Steymans-Kurz (Hrsg.), Materielle Kultur und Sozialprestige im Spätmittelalter. Führungsgruppen in Städten des deutschsprachigen Südwestens (Schriften zur südwestdeutschen Landeskunde, 82), Ostfildern 2019, Thorbecke, IX u. 148 S. / Abb., € 25,00. (Gerald Schwedler, Kiel) Liening, Simon, Das Gesandtschaftswesen der Stadt Straßburg zu Beginn des 15. Jahrhunderts (Mittelalter-Forschung, 63), Ostfildern 2019, Thorbecke, 245 S., € 34,00. (Klara Hübner, Brno) Serif, Ina, Geschichte aus der Stadt. Überlieferung und Aneignungsformen der deutschen Chronik Jakob Twingers von Königshofen (Kulturtopographie des alemannischen Raums, 11), Berlin / Boston 2020, de Gruyter, X u. 297 S. / Abb., € 99,95. (Carla Meyer-Schlenkrich, Köln) Urkundenregesten zur Tätigkeit des deutschen Königs- und Hofgerichts bis 1451, Bd. 17: Die Zeit Ruprechts 1407 – 1410, hrsg. v. Bernhard Diestelkamp, bearb. v. Ute Rödel (Quellen und Forschungen zur höchsten Gerichsbarkeit im Alten Reich. Sonderreihe), Wien / Köln / Weimar 2018, Böhlau, XCIX u. 531 S., € 90,00. (Jörg Schwarz, Innsbruck) Van Dussen, Michael / Pavel Soukup (Hrsg.), A Companion to the Hussites (Brill’s Companions to the Christian Tradition, 90), Leiden / Boston 2020, Brill, XI u. 453 S., € 199,00. (Christina Traxler, Wien) Kaar, Alexandra, Wirtschaft, Krieg und Seelenheil. Papst Martin V., Kaiser Sigismund und das Handelsverbot gegen die Hussiten in Böhmen (Forschungen zur Kaiser- und Papstgeschichte des Mittelalters. Beihefte zu J. F. Böhmer, Regesta Imperii, 46), Wien / Köln / Weimar 2020, Böhlau, 387 S. / Abb., € 55,00. (Gerhard Fouquet, Kiel) Regesten Kaiser Friedrichs III. (1440 – 1493) nach Archiven und Bibliotheken geordnet, hrsg. v. Paul-Joachim Heinig / Christian Lackner / Alois Niederstätter, Heft 34: Die Urkunden und Briefe des Österreichischen Staatsarchivs in Wien, Abt. Haus-‍, Hof- und Staatsarchiv: Allgemeine Urkundenreihe, Familienurkunden und Abschriftensammlungen (1476 – 1479), bearb. v. Kornelia Holzner-Tobisch nach Vorarbeiten v. Anne-Katrin Kunde, Wien / Köln / Weimar 2020, Böhlau, 315 S., € 50,00. (Jörg Schwarz, Innsbruck) Regesten Kaiser Friedrichs III. (1440 – 1493) nach Archiven und Bibliotheken geordnet, hrsg. v. Paul-Joachim Heinig / Christian Lackner / Alois Niederstätter, Heft 35: Die Urkunden und Briefe des Österreichischen Staatsarchivs in Wien, Abt. Haus-‍, Hof- und Staatsarchiv: Allgemeine Urkundenreihe, Familienurkunden und Abschriftensammlungen (1480 – 1482), bearb. v. Petra Heinicker / Anne-Katrin Kunde, Wien / Köln / Weimar 2019, Böhlau, 197 S., € 40,00. (Jörg Schwarz, Innsbruck) Christ, Georg / Franz-Julius Morche (Hrsg.), Cultures of Empire. Rethinking Venetian Rule, 1400 – 1700. Essays in Honour of Benjamin Arbel (The Medieval Mediterranean, 122), Leiden / Boston 2020, Brill, XXXI u. 484 S. / Abb., € 149,00. (Uwe Israel, Dresden) Lemire, Beverly, Global Trade and the Transformation of Consumer Cultures. The Material World Remade, c. 1500 – 1820 (New Approaches to Economic and Social History), Cambridge 2018, Cambridge University Press, XVIII u. 352 S. / Abb., £ 22,99. (Stefan Hanß, Manchester) Siebenhüner, Kim / John Jordan / Gabi Schopf (Hrsg.), Cotton in Context. Manufacturing, Marketing, and Consuming Textiles in the German-Speaking World (1500 – 1900) (Ding, Materialität, Geschichte, 4), Wien / Köln / Weimar 2019, Böhlau, 424 S. / Abb., € 90,00. (Stefan Hanß, Manchester) Dalrymple-Smith, Angus, Commercial Transitions and Abolition in West Africa 1630 – 1860 (Studies in Global Slavery, 9), Leiden / Boston 2020, Brill, XI u. 278 S. / Abb., € 121,00. (Magnus Ressel, Frankfurt a. M.) Ruhe, Ernstpeter, „Aus Barbareÿen erlösett“. Die deutschsprachigen Gefangenenberichte aus dem Maghreb (XVI.–XIX. Jh.) und ihre Rezeption (Studien zur Literatur und Geschichte des Maghreb, 11), Würzburg 2020, Königshausen & Neumann, 288 S. / € 39,80. (Stefan Hanß, Manchester) Godfrey, Andrew M. / Cornelis H. van Rhee (Hrsg.), Central Courts in Early Modern Europe and the Americas (Comparative Studies in Continental and Anglo-American Legal History, 34), Berlin 2020, Duncker & Humblot, 542 S., € 99,90. (Tobias Schenk, Wien) Enenkel, Karl A. E. / Jan L. de Jong (Hrsg.), „Artes Apodemicae“ and Early Modern Travel Culture, 1550 – 1700 (Intersections, 64), Leiden / Boston 2019, Brill, XIX u. 339 S. / Abb., € 124,00. (Michael Maurer, Jena) Detering, Nicolas / Clementina Marsico / Isabella Walser-Bürgler (Hrsg.), Contesting Europe. Comparative Perspectives on Early Modern Discourses on Europe, 1400 – 1800 (Intersections, 67), Leiden / Boston 2020, Brill, XVIII u. 386 S. / Abb., € 115,00. (Theo Jung, Freiburg i. Br.) Giannini, Giulia / Mordechai Feingold (Hrsg.), The Institutionalization of Science in Early Modern Europe (Scientific and Learned Cultures and Their Institutions, 27), Leiden / Boston 2020, Brill, XII u. 301 S., € 115,00. (Sebastian Kühn, Berlin) Wilkinson, Alexander S. / Graeme J. Kemp (Hrsg.), Negotiating Conflict and Controversy in the Early Modern Book World (Library of the Written Word, 73; The Handpress World, 56), Leiden / Boston 2019, Brill, XIII u. 287 S. / Abb., € 126,00. (Johannes Frimmel, München) Dinges, Martin / Pierre Pfütsch (Hrsg.), Männlichkeiten in der Frühmoderne. Körper, Gesundheit und Krankheit (1500 – 1850) (Medizin, Gesellschaft und Geschichte, Beiheft 76), Stuttgart 2020, Steiner, 536 S. / Abb., € 76,00. (Christina Vanja, Kassel) Widder, Roman, Pöbel, Poet und Publikum. Figuren arbeitender Armut in der Frühen Neuzeit, Konstanz 2020, Konstanz University Press, 481 S., € 39,90. (Anke Sczesny, Augsburg) Bushkovitch, Paul, Succession to the Throne in Early Modern Russia. The Transfer of Power 1450 – 1725, New York 2021, Cambridge University Press, XV u. 397 S., £ 90,00. (Martina Winkler, Kiel) Ordubadi, Diana / Dittmar Dahlmann (Hrsg.), Die ‚Alleinherrschaft‘ der russischen Zaren in der ‚Zeit der Wirren‘ in transkultureller Perspektive (Macht und Herrschaft, 10), Göttingen 2021, V&R unipress / Bonn University Press, 377 S. / Abb, € 50,00. (Martina Winkler, Kiel) Hochedlinger, Michael / Petr Maťa / Thomas Winkelbauer (Hrsg.), Verwaltungsgeschichte der Habsburgermonarchie in der Frühen Neuzeit. Hof und Dynastie, Kaiser und Reich, Zentralverwaltungen, Kriegswesen und landesfürstliches Finanzwesen, 2 Teilbde. (Mitteilungen des Instituts für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung, Ergänzungsband 62), Wien 2019, Böhlau, 1308 S., € 150,00. (William D. Godsey, Wien) Kustatscher, Erika, Die Innsbrucker Linie der Thurn und Taxis – Die Post in Tirol und den Vorlanden (1490 – 1769) (Schlern-Schriften, 371), Innsbruck 2018, Universitätsverlag Wagner, 489 S. / Abb., € 39,90. (Wolfgang Behringer, Saarbrücken) Kurelić, Robert, Daily Life on the Istrian Frontier. Living on a Borderland in the Sixteenth Century (Studies in the History of Daily Life [800 – 1600], 7), Turnhout 2019, Brepols, 230 S. / Karten, € 75,00. (Stephan Steiner, Wien) Neumann, Franziska, Die Ordnung des Berges. Formalisierung und Systemvertrauen in der sächsischen Bergverwaltung (1470 – 1600) (Norm und Struktur, 52), Wien / Köln / Weimar 2021, Böhlau, 411 S., € 70,00. (Tobias Schenk, Wien) Mattox, Mickey L. / Richard J. Serina / Jonathan Mumme (Hrsg.), Luther at Leipzig. Martin Luther, the Leipzig Debate, and the Sixteenth-Century Reformations (Studies in Medieval and Reformation Traditions, 218), Leiden / Boston 2019, Brill, XIV u. 348 S., € 129,00. (Thomas Fuchs, Leipzig) Brewer, Brian C. / David M. Whitford (Hrsg.), Calvin and the Early Reformation (Studies in Medieval and Reformation Traditions, 219), Leiden / Boston 2020, Brill, XIV u. 231 S., € 99,00. (Volker Reinhardt, Fribourg) Nicholls, Sophie, Political Thought in the French Wars of Religion (Ideas in Context), Cambridge [u. a.] 2021, Cambridge University Press, XIII u. 269 S., £ 75,00. (Ronald G. Asch, Freiburg i. Br.) Vadi, Valentina, War and Peace. Alberico Gentili and the Early Modern Law of Nations (Legal History Library, 37; Studies in the History of International Law, 14), Leiden / Boston 2020, Brill Nijhoff, XXVI u. 566 S. / Abb., € 160,00. (Miloš Vec, Wien) Schmidt, Ariadne, Prosecuting Women. A Comparative Perspective on Crime and Gender before the Dutch Criminal Courts, c. 1600 – 1810 (Crime and City in History, 4), Leiden / Boston 2020, Brill, X u. 285 S. / graph. Darst., € 105,00. (Wiebke Voigt, Dresden) Moore, John K., Mulatto, Outlaw – Pilgrim – Priest. The Legal Case of José Soller, Accused of Impersonating a Pastor and Other Crimes in Seventeenth-Century Spain (The Medieval and Early Modern Iberian World, 75), Leiden / Boston 2020, Brill, XVIII u. 359 S. / Abb., € 127,00. (Alexandra Kohlhöfer, Münster) Junghänel, André, Kirchenverwaltung und Landesherrschaft. Kirchenordnendes Handeln in der Landgrafschaft Hessen-Kassel im 17. Jahrhundert (Schriften zur politischen Kommunikation, 26), Göttingen 2021, V&R unipress, 721 S. / Abb., € 90,00. (Lennart Gard, Berlin) Elsner, Ines, Das Huldigungssilber der Welfen des Neuen Hauses Braunschweig-Lüneburg (1520 – 1706). Geschenkkultur und symbolische Interaktion zwischen Fürst und Untertanen, Regensburg 2019, Schnell & Steiner, 256 S. / Abb., € 59,00. (Torsten Fried, Schwerin / Greifswald) Pečar, Andreas / Andreas Erb (Hrsg.), Der Dreißigjährige Krieg und die mitteldeutschen Reichsfürsten. Politische Handlungsstrategien und Überlebensmuster (Quellen und Forschungen zur Geschichte Sachsen-Anhalts, 20), Halle a. d. S. 2020, Mitteldeutscher Verlag, 202 S. / Abb., € 38,00. (Fabian Schulze, Elchingen / Augsburg) Capdeville, Valérie / Alain Kerhervé (Hrsg.), British Sociability in the Long Eighteenth Century. Challenging the Anglo-French Connection (Studies in the Eighteenth Century), Woodbridge 2019, The Boydell Press, XV u. 304 S., £ 65,00. (Michael Schaich, London) McIntosh, Carey, Semantics and Cultural Change in the British Enlightenment. New Words and Old (Brill’s Studies in Intellectual History, 315), Leiden / Boston 2020, Brill, VI u. 222 S., € 95,00. (Christina Piper, Kiel) Bulinsky, Dunja, Nahbeziehungen eines europäischen Gelehrten. Johann Jakob Scheuchzer (1672 – 1733) und sein soziales Umfeld, Zürich 2020, Chronos, 191 S. / Abb., € 48,00. (Lisa Dannenberg-Markel, Aachen) Furrer, Norbert, Der arme Mann von Brüttelen. Lebenswelten eines Berner Söldners und Landarbeiters im 18. Jahrhundert, Zürich 2020, Chronos, 229 S. / Abb., € 38,00. (Tim Nyenhuis, Düsseldorf) Finnegan, Rachel, English Explorers in the East (1738 – 1745). The Travels of Thomas Shaw, Charles Perry and Richard Pococke, Leiden / Boston 2019, Brill, XIII u. 331 S. / Abb., € 99,00. (Michael Maurer, Jena) Décultot, Elisabeth / Jana Kittelmann / Andrea Thiele / Ingo Uhlig (Hrsg.), Weltensammeln. Johann Reinhold Forster und Georg Forster (Das achtzehnte Jahrhundert. Supplementa, 27), Göttingen 2020, Wallstein, 280 S. / Abb., € 29,90. (Michael Maurer, Jena) Evers, Jan-Hendrick, Sitte, Sünde, Seligkeit. Zum Umgang hallischer Pastoren mit Ehe, Sexualität und Sittlichkeitsdelikten in Pennsylvania, 1742 – 1800 (Hallesche Forschungen, 57), Halle a. d. S. 2020, Verlag der Franckeschen Stiftungen; Harrassowitz in Kommission, XII u. 455 S. / graph. Darst., € 69,00. (Norbert Finzsch, Köln) Schmidt, Dennis, Bedrohliche Aufklärung – Umkämpfte Reformen. Innerösterreich im josephinischen Jahrzehnt 1780 – 1790, Münster 2020, Aschendorff, XV u. 621 S. / graph. Darst., € 58,00. (Simon Karstens, Trier) Bregler, Thomas, Die oberdeutschen Reichsstädte auf dem Rastatter Friedenskongress (1797 – 1799) (Studien zur bayerischen Verfassungs- und Sozialgeschichte, 33), München 2020, Kommission für bayerische Landesgeschichte, X u. 562 S. / Abb., € 49,00. (Dorothée Goetze, Sundsvall) Esser, Franz D., Der Wandel der Rheinischen Agrarverfassung. Der Einfluss französischer und preußischer Agrarreformen zwischen 1794 und 1850 auf die bäuerlichen Rechtsverhältnisse im Rheinland (Forschungen zur deutschen Rechtsgeschichte, 32), Wien / Köln / Weimar 2020, Böhlau, 270 S. / Abb., € 70,00. (Werner Troßbach, Fulda)

Phillip Noyce is one of Australia’s most prominent film makers—a successful feature film director with both iconic Australian narratives and many a Hollywood blockbuster under his belt. Still, his beginnings were quite humble and far from his role today when he grew up in the midst of the counterculture of the late sixties. Millions of young people his age joined the various ‘movements’ of the day after experiences that changed their lives—mostly music but also drugs or fashion. The counterculture was a turbulent time in Sydney artistic circles as elsewhere. Everything looked possible, you simply had to “Do It!”—and Noyce did. He dived head-on into these times and with a voracious appetite for its many aspects—film, theatre, rallies, music, art and politics in general. In fact he often was the driving force behind such activities. Noyce described his personal epiphany occurring in 1968: A few months before I was due to graduate from high school, […] I saw a poster on a telegraph pole advertising American 'underground' movies. There was a mesmerising, beautiful blue-coloured drawing on the poster that I later discovered had been designed by an Australian filmmaker called David Perry. The word 'underground' conjured up all sorts of delights to an eighteen-year-old in the late Sixties: in an era of censorship it promised erotica, perhaps; in an era of drug-taking it promised some clandestine place where marijuana, or even something stronger, might be consumed; in an era of confrontation between conservative parents and their affluent post-war baby-boomer children, it promised a place where one could get together with other like-minded youth and plan to undermine the establishment, which at that time seemed to be the aim of just about everyone aged under 30. (Petzke 8) What the poster referred to was a new, highly different type of film. In the US these films were usually called “underground”. This term originates from film critic Manny Farber who used it in his 1957 essay Underground Films. Farber used the label for films whose directors today would be associated with independent and art house feature films. More directly, film historian Lewis Jacobs referred to experimental films when he used the words “film which for most of its life has led an underground existence” (8). The term is used interchangeably with New American Cinema. It was based on a New York group—the Film-Makers’ Co-operative—that started in 1960 with mostly low-budget filmmakers under the guidance of Jonas Mekas. When in 1962 the group was formally organised as a means for new, improved ways of distributing their works, experimental filmmakers were the dominant faction. They were filmmakers working in a more artistic vein, slightly influenced by the European Avant-garde of the 1920s and by attempts in the late 1940s and early 1950s. In film history, this era is also known as the Third Avant-garde. In their First Statement of the New American Cinema Group, the group drew connections to both the British Free Cinema and the French Nouvelle Vague. They also claimed that contemporary cinema was “morally corrupt, aesthetically obsolete, thematically superficial, temperamentally boring” (80). An all-encompassing definition of Underground Film never was available. Sheldon Renan lists some of the problems: There are underground films in which there is no movement and films in which there is nothing but movement. There are films about people and films about light. There are short, short underground films and long, long underground films. There are some that have been banned, and there is one that was nominated for an Academy Award. There are sexy films and sexless films, political films and poetical films, film epigrams and film epics … underground film is nothing less than an explosion of cinematic styles, forms and directions. (Renan 17) No wonder that propelled by frequent serious articles in the press—notably Jonas Mekas in the Village Voice—and regular screenings at other venues like the Film-makers’ Cinemathèque and the Gallery of Modern Art in New York, these films proved increasingly popular in the United States and almost immediately spread like bush fires around the world. So in early September 1968 Noyce joined a sold-out crowd at the Union Theatre in Sydney, watching 17 shorts assembled by Ubu Films, the premier experimental and underground film collective in 1960s Australia (Milesago). And on that night his whole attitude to art, his whole attitude to movies—in fact, his whole life—changed. He remembered: I left the cinema that night thinking, "I’m gonna make movies like that. I can do it." Here was a style of cinema that seemed to speak to me. It was immediate, it was direct, it was personal, and it wasn’t industrial. It was executed for personal expression, not for profit; it was individual as opposed to corporate, it was stylistically free; it seemed to require very little expenditure, innovation being the key note. It was a completely un-Hollywood-like aesthetic; it was operating on a visceral level that was often non-linear and was akin to the psychedelic images that were in vogue at the time—whether it was in music, in art or just in the patterns on your multi-coloured shirt. These movies spoke to me. (Petzke 9) Generally speaking, therefore, these films were the equivalent of counterculture in the area of film. Theodore Roszak railed against “technocracy” and underground films were just the opposite, often almost do-it-yourself in production and distribution. They were objecting to middle-class culture and values. And like counterculture they aimed at doing away with repression and to depict a utopian lifestyle feeling at ease with each imaginable form of liberality (Doggett 469). Underground films transgressed any Hollywood rule and convention in content, form and technique. Mobile hand-held cameras, narrow-gauge or outright home movies, shaky and wobbly, rapid cutting, out of focus, non-narrative, disparate continuity—you name it. This type of experimental film was used to express the individual consciousness of the “maker”—no longer calling themselves directors—a cinematic equivalent of the first person in literature. Just as in modern visual art, both the material and the process of making became part of these artworks. Music often was a dominant factor, particularly Eastern influences or the new Beat Music that was virtually non-existent in feature films. Drug experiences were reflected in imagery and structure. Some of the first comings-out of gay men can be found as well as films that were shown at the appropriately named “Wet Dreams Festival” in Amsterdam. Noyce commented: I worked out that the leading lights in this Ubu Films seemed to be three guys — Aggy Read, Albie Thoms and David Perry […They] all had beards and […] seemed to come from the basement of a terrace house in Redfern. Watching those movies that night, picking up all this information, I was immediately seized by three great ambitions. First of all, I wanted to grow a beard; secondly, I wanted to live in a terrace house in the inner city; and thirdly, I wanted to be a filmmaker. (Ubu Films) Noyce soon discovered there were a lot of people like him who wanted to make short films for personal expression, but also as a form of nationalism. They wanted to make Australian movies. Noyce remembered: “Aggy, Albie and David encouraged everyone to go and make a film for themselves” (Petzke 11). This was easy enough to do as these films—not only in Australia—were often made for next to nothing and did not require any prior education or training. And the target audience group existed in a subculture of people willing to pay money even for extreme entertainment as long as it was advertised in an appealing way—which meant: in the way of the rampaging Zeitgeist. Noyce—smitten by the virus—would from then on regularly attend the weekly meetings organised by the young filmmakers. And in line with Jerry Rubin’s contemporary adage “Do it!” he would immediately embark on a string of films with enthusiasm and determination—qualities soon to become his trademark. All his films were experimental in nature, shot on 16mm and were so well received that Albie Thoms was convinced that Noyce had a great career ahead of him as an experimental filmmaker. Truly alternative was Noyce’s way to finally finance Better to Reign in Hell, his first film, made at age 18 and with a total budget of $600. Noyce said on reflection: I had approached some friends and told them that if they invested in my film, they could have an acting role. Unfortunately, the guy whose dad had the most money — he was a doctor’s son — was also maybe the worst actor that was ever put in front of a camera. But he had invested four hundred dollars, so I had to give him the lead. (Petzke 13) The title was taken from Milton’s poem Paradise Lost (“better to reign in hell than serve in heaven”). It was a film very much inspired by the images, montage and narrative techniques of the underground movies watched at Ubu. Essentially the film is about a young man’s obsession with a woman he sees repeatedly in advertising and the hallucinogenic dreams he has about her. Despite its later reputation, the film was relatively mundane. Being shot in black and white, it lacks the typical psychedelic ingredients of the time and is more reminiscent of the surrealistic precursors to underground film. Some contempt for the prevailing consumer society is thrown in for good measure. In the film, “A youth is persecuted by the haunting reappearance of a girl’s image in various commercial outlets. He finds escape from this commercial brainwashing only in his own confused sexual hallucinations” (Sydney Filmmakers Co-operative). But despite this advertising, so convincingly capturing the “hint! hint!” mood of the time, Noyce’s first film isn’t really outstanding even in terms of experimental film. Noyce continued to make short experimental films. There was not even the pretence of a story in any of them. He was just experimenting with his gear and finding his own way to use the techniques of the underground cinema. Megan was made at Sydney University Law School to be projected as part of the law students’ revue. It was a three-minute silent film that featured a woman called Megan, who he had a crush on. Intersection was 2 minutes 44 seconds in length and shot in the middle of a five-way or four-way intersection in North Sydney. The camera was walked into the intersection and spun around in a continuous circle from the beginning of the roll of film to the end. It was an experiment with disorientation and possibly a comment about urban development. Memories was a seven-minute short in colour about childhood and the bush, accompanied by a smell-track created in the cinema by burning eucalyptus leaves. Sun lasted 90 seconds in colour and examined the pulsating winter sun by way of 100 single frame shots. And finally, Home was a one-and-a-half-minute single frame camera exploration of the filmmaker’s home, inside and out, including its inhabitants and pets. As a true experimental filmmaker, Noyce had a deep interest in technical aspects. It was recommended that Sun “be projected through a special five image lens”, Memories and Intersection with “an anamorphic lens” (Sydney Filmmakers Co-operative). The double projection for Better to Reign in Hell and the two screens required for Good Afternoon, as well as the addition of the smell of burning leaves in Memories, were inroads into the subgenre of so-called Expanded Cinema. As filmmaking in those days was not an isolated enterprise but an integral part of the all-encompassing Counterculture, Noyce followed suit and became more and more involved and politiced. He started becoming a driving force of the movement. Besides selling Ubu News, he organised film screenings. He also wrote film articles for both Honi Soit and National U, the Sydney University and Canberra University newspapers—articles more opinionated than sophisticated. He was also involved in Ubu’s Underground Festival held in August and in other activities of the time, particularly anti-war protests. When Ubu Films went out of business after the lack of audience interest in Thoms’s long Marinetti film in 1969, Aggy Read suggested that Ubu be reinvented as a co-operative for tax reasons and because they might benefit from their stock of 250 Australian and foreign films. On 28 May 1970 the reinvention began at the first general meeting of the Sydney Filmmakers Cooperative where Noyce volunteered and was elected their part-time manager. He transferred the 250 prints to his parents’ home in Wahroonga where he was still living he said he “used to sit there day after day just screening those movies for myself” (Petzke 18). The Sydney University Film Society screened feature films to students at lunchtime. Noyce soon discovered they had money nobody was spending and equipment no one was using, which seemed to be made especially for him. In the university cinema he would often screen his own and other shorts from the Co-op’s library. The entry fee was 50 cents. He remembered: “If I handed out the leaflets in the morning, particularly concentrating on the fact that these films were uncensored and a little risqué, then usually there would be 600 people in the cinema […] One or two screenings per semester would usually give me all the pocket money I needed to live” (Petzke 19). Libertine and risqué films were obviously popular as they were hard to come by. Noyce said: We suffered the worst censorship of almost any Western country in the world, even worse than South Africa. Books would be seized by customs officers at the airports and when ships docked. Customs would be looking for Lady Chatterley’s Lover. We were very censored in literature and films and plays, and my film [Better to Reign in Hell] was banned from export. I tried to send it to a film festival in Holland and it was denied an export permit, but because it had been shot in Australia, until someone in the audience complained it could still be screened locally. (Castaway's Choice) No wonder clashes with the law happened frequently and were worn like medals of honour in those days of fighting the system, proving that one was fighting in the front line against the conservative values of law and order. Noyce encountered three brushes with the law. The first occurred when selling Ubu Films’ alternative culture newspaper Ubu News, Australia’s first underground newspaper (Milesago). One of the issues contained an advertisement—a small drawing—for Levi’s jeans, showing a guy trying to put his Levis on his head, so that his penis was showing. That was judged by the police to be obscene. Noyce was found guilty and given a suspended sentence for publishing an indecent publication. There had been another incident including Phil’s Pill, his own publication of six or eight issues. After one day reprinting some erotic poems from The Penguin Collection of Erotic Poetry he was found guilty and released on a good behaviour bond without a conviction being recorded. For the sake of historical truth it should be remembered, though, that provocation was a genuine part of the game. How else could one seriously advertise Better to Reign in Hell as “a sex-fantasy film which includes a daring rape scene”—and be surprised when the police came in after screening this “pornographic film” (Stratton 202) at the Newcastle Law Students Ball? The Newcastle incident also throws light on the fact that Noyce organised screenings wherever possible, constantly driving prints and projectors around in his Mini Minor. Likewise, he is remembered as having been extremely helpful in trying to encourage other people with their own ideas—anyone could make films and could make them about anything they liked. He helped Jan Chapman, a fellow student who became his (first) wife in December 1971, to shoot and edit Just a Little Note, a documentary about a moratorium march and a guerrilla theatre group run by their friend George Shevtsov. Noyce also helped on I Happened to Be a Girl, a documentary about four women, friends of Chapman. There is no denying that being a filmmaker was a hobby, a full-time job and an obsessive religion for Noyce. He was on the organising committee of the First Australian Filmmakers’ Festival in August 1971. He performed in the agit-prop acting troupe run by George Shevtsov (later depicted in Renegades) that featured prominently at one of Sydney’s rock festival that year. In the latter part of 1971 and early 1972 he worked on Good Afternoon, a documentary about the Combined Universities’ Aquarius Arts Festival in Canberra, which arguably was the first major manifestation of counterculture in Australia. For this the Aquarius Foundation—the cultural arm of the Australian Union of Students—had contracted him. This became a two-screen movie à la Woodstock. Together with Thoms, Read and Ian Stocks, in 1972 he participated in cataloguing the complete set of films in distribution by the Co-op (see Sydney Filmmakers Cooperative). As can be seen, Noyce was at home in many manifestations of the Sydney counterculture. His own films had slowly become more politicised and bent towards documentary. He even started a newsreel that he used to screen at the Filmmakers’ Cooperative Cinema with a live commentary. One in 1971, Springboks Protest, was about the demonstrations at the Sydney Cricket Ground against the South African rugby tour. There were more but Noyce doesn’t remember them and no prints seem to have survived. Renegades was a diary film; a combination of poetic images and reportage on the street demonstrations. Noyce’s experimental films had been met with interest in the—limited—audience and among publications. His more political films and particularly Good Afternoon, however, reached out to a much wider audience, now including even the undogmatic left and hard-core documentarists of the times. In exchange, and for the first time, there were opposing reactions—but as always a great discussion at the Filmmakers’ Cinema, the main venue for independent productions. This cinema began with those initial screenings at Sydney University in the union room next to the Union Theatre. But once the Experimental Film Fund started operating in 1970, more and more films were submitted for the screenings and consequently a new venue was needed. Albie Thoms started a forum in the Yellow House in Kings Cross in May 1970. Next came—at least briefly—a restaurant in Glebe before the Co-op took over a space on the top floor of the socialist Third World Bookshop in Goulburn Street that was a firetrap. Bob Gould, the owner, was convinced that by first passing through his bookshop the audience would buy his books on the way upstairs. Sundays for him were otherwise dead from a commercial point of view. Noyce recollected that: The audience at this Filmmakers’ Cinema were mightily enthusiastic about seeing themselves up on the screen. And there was always a great discussion. So, generally the screenings were a huge success, with many full houses. The screenings grew from once a week, to three times on Sunday, to all weekend, and then seven days a week at several locations. One program could play in three different illegal cinemas around the city. (Petzke 26) A filmmakers’ cinema also started in Melbourne and the groups of filmmakers would visit each other and screen their respective films. But especially after the election of the Whitlam Labor government in December 1972 there was a shift in interest from risqué underground films to the concept of Australian Cinema. The audience started coming now for a dose of Australian culture. Funding of all kind was soon freely available and with such a fund the film co-op was able to set up a really good licensed cinema in St. Peters Lane in Darlinghurst, running seven days a week. But, Noyce said, “the move to St. Peters Lane was sort of the end of an era, because initially the cinema was self-funded, but once it became government sponsored everything changed” (Petzke 29). With money now readily available, egotism set in and the prevailing “we”-feeling rather quickly dissipated. But by the time of this move and the resulting developments, everything for Noyce had already changed again. He had been accepted into the first intake of the Interim Australian Film & TV School, another one of the nation-awareness-building projects of the Whitlam government. He was on his “long march through the institutions”—as this was frequently called throughout Europe—that would bring him to documentaries, TV and eventually even Hollywood (and return). Noyce didn’t linger once the alternative scene started fading away. Everything those few, wild years in the counterculture had taught him also put him right on track to become one of the major players in Hollywood. He never looked back—but he remembers fondly…References Castaway’s Choice. Radio broadcast by KCRW. 1990. Doggett, Peter. There’s a Riot Going On: Revolutionaries, Rock Stars and the Rise and Fall of ’60s Counter-Culture. Edinburgh: Canongate, 2007. Farber, Manny. “Underground Films.” Negative Space: Manny Farber on the Movies. Ed. Manny Farber. New York: Da Capo, 1998. 12–24. Jacobs, Lewis. “Morning for the Experimental Film”. Film Culture 19 (1959): 6–9. Milesago. “Ubu Films”. n.d. 26 Nov. 2014 ‹http://www.milesago.com/visual/ubu.htm›. New American Cinema Group. “First Statement of the New American Cinema Group.” Film Culture Reader. Ed. P. Adams Sitney. New York: Praeger, 1970. 73–75. Petzke, Ingo. Phillip Noyce: Backroads to Hollywood. Sydney: Pan McMillan, 2004. Renan, Sheldon. The Underground Film: An Introduction to Its Development in America. London: Studio Vista, 1968. Roszak, Theodore. The Making of Counter Culture. New York: Anchor, 1969. Stratton, David. The Last New Wave: The Australian Film Revival. Sydney: Angus and Robertson, 1980. Sydney Filmmakers Co-operative. Film Catalogue. Sydney: Sydney Filmmakers Co-operative, 1972. Ubu Films. Unreleased five-minute video for the promotion of Mudie, Peter. Ubu Films: Sydney Underground Movies 1965-1970. Sydney: UNSW Press, 1997.

Introduction The first “Aquarius Festival” came together in Canberra, at the Australian National University, in the autumn of 1971 and was reprised in 1973 in the small rural town of Nimbin, in northern New South Wales. Both events reflected the Zeitgeist in what was, in some ways, an inchoate expression of the so-called “counterculture” (Roszak). Rather than attempting to analyse the counterculture as a discrete movement with a definable history, I enlist the theory of cultural memes to read the counter culture as a Dawkinsian cluster meme, with this paper offered as “testimonio”, a form of quasi-political memoir that views shifts in the culture through the lens of personal experience (Zimmerman, Yúdice). I track an evolving personal, “internal” topography and map its points of intersection with the radical social, political and cultural changes spawned by the “consciousness revolution” that was an integral part of the counterculture emerging in the 1970s. I focus particularly on the notion of “consciousness raising”, as a Dawkinsian memetic replicator, in the context of the idealistic notions of the much-heralded “New Age” of Aquarius, and propose that this meme has been a persistent feature of the evolution of the “meme cluster” known as the counterculture. Mimesis and the Counterculture Since evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins floated the notion of cultural memes as a template to account for the evolution of ideas within political cultures, a literature of commentary and criticism has emerged that debates the strengths and weaknesses of his proposed model and its application across a number of fields. I borrow the notion to trace the influence of a set of memes that clustered around the emergence of what writer Marilyn Ferguson called The Aquarian Conspiracy, in her 1980 book of that name. Ferguson’s text, subtitled Personal and Social Transformation in Our Time, was a controversial attempt to account for what was known as the “New Age” movement, with its late millennial focus on social and personal transformation. That focus leads me to approach the counterculture (a term first floated by Theodore Roszak) less as a definable historical movement and more as a cluster of aspirational tropes expressing a range of aspects or concerns, from the overt political activism through to experimental technologies for the transformation of consciousness, and all characterised by a critical interrogation of, and resistance to, conventional social norms (Ferguson’s “personal and social transformation”). With its more overtly “spiritual” focus, I read the “New Age” meme, then, as a sub-set of this “cluster meme”, the counterculture. In my reading, “New Age” and “counterculture” overlap, sharing persistent concerns and a broad enough tent to accommodate the serious—the combative political action of Students for a Democratic Society (SDS), say, (see Elbaum)—to the light-hearted—the sport of frisbee for example (Stancil). The interrogation of conventional social and political norms inherited from previous generations was a prominent strategy across both movements. Rather than offering a sociological analysis or history of the ragbag counterculture, per se, my discussion here focuses in on the particular meme of “consciousness raising” within that broader set of cultural shifts, some of which were sustained in their own right, some dropping away, and many absorbed into the dominant mainstream culture. Dawkins use of the term “meme” was rooted in the Greek mimesis, to emphasise the replication of an idea by imitation, or copying. He likened the way ideas survive and change in human culture to the natural selection of genes in biological evolution. While the transmission of memes does not depend on a physical medium, such as the DNA of biology, they replicate with a greater or lesser degree of success by harnessing human social media in a kind of “infectivity”, it is argued, through “contagious” repetition among human populations. Dawkins proposed that just as biological organisms could be said to act as “hosts” for replicating genes, in the same way people and groups of people act as hosts for replicating memes. Even before Dawkins floated his term, French biologist Jacques Monod wrote that ideas have retained some of the properties of organisms. Like them, they tend to perpetuate their structure and to breed; they too can fuse, recombine, segregate their content; indeed they too can evolve, and in this evolution selection must surely play an important role. (165, emphasis mine) Ideas have power, in Monod’s analysis: “They interact with each other and with other mental forces in the same brain, in neighbouring brains, and thanks to global communication, in far distant, foreign brains” (Monod, cited in Gleick). Emblematic of the counterculture were various “New Age” phenomena such as psychedelic drugs, art and music, with the latter contributing the “Aquarius” meme, whose theme song came from the stage musical (and later, film) Hair, and particularly the lyric that runs: “This is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius”. The Australian Aquarius Festivals of 1971 and 1973 explicitly invoked this meme in the way identified by Monod and the “Aquarius” meme resonated even in Australia. Problematising “Aquarius” As for the astrological accuracy of the “Age of Aquarius meme”, professional astrologers argue about its dating, and the qualities that supposedly characterise it. When I consulted with two prominent workers in this field for the preparation of this article, I was astonished to find their respective dating of the putative Age of Aquarius were centuries apart! What memes were being “hosted” here? According to the lyrics: When the moon is in the seventh house And Jupiter aligns with Mars Then peace will guide the planets And love will steer the stars. (Hair) My astrologer informants assert that the moon is actually in the seventh house twice every year, and that Jupiter aligns with Mars every two years. Yet we are still waiting for the outbreak of peace promised according to these astrological conditions. I am also informed that there’s no “real” astrological underpinning for the aspirations of the song’s lyrics, for an astrological “Age” is not determined by any planet but by constellations rising, they tell me. Most important, contrary to the aspirations embodied in the lyrics, peace was not guiding the planets and love was not about to “steer the stars”. For Mars is not the planet of love, apparently, but of war and conflict and, empowered with the expansiveness of Jupiter, it was the forceful aggression of a militaristic mind-set that actually prevailed as the “New Age” supposedly dawned. For the hippified summer of love had taken a nosedive with the tragic events at the Altamont speedway, near San Francisco in 1969, when biker gangs, enlisted to provide security for a concert performance by The Rolling Stones allegedly provoked violence, marring the event and contributing to a dawning disillusionment (for a useful coverage of the event and its historical context see Dalton). There was a lot of far-fetched poetic licence involved in this dreaming, then, but memes, according to Nikos Salingaros, are “greatly simplified versions of patterns”. “The simpler they are, the faster they can proliferate”, he writes, and the most successful memes “come with a great psychological appeal” (243, 260; emphasis mine). What could be retrieved from this inchoate idealism? Harmony and understanding Sympathy and trust abounding No more falsehoods or derisions Golden living dreams of visions Mystic crystal revelation And the mind’s true liberation Aquarius, Aquarius. (Hair) In what follows I want to focus on this notion: “mind’s true liberation” by tracing the evolution of this project of “liberating” the mind, reflected in my personal journey. Nimbin and Aquarius I had attended the first Aquarius Festival, which came together in Canberra, at the Australian National University, in the autumn of 1971. I travelled there from Perth, overland, in a Ford Transit van, among a raggedy band of tie-dyed hippie actors, styled as The Campus Guerilla Theatre Troupe, re-joining our long-lost sisters and brothers as visionary pioneers of the New Age of Aquarius. Our visions were fueled with a suitcase full of potent Sumatran “buddha sticks” and, contrary to Biblical prophesies, we tended to see—not “through a glass darkly” but—in psychedelic, pop-, and op-art explosions of colour. We could see energy, man! Two years later, I found myself at the next Aquarius event in Nimbin, too, but by that time I inhabited a totally different mind-zone, albeit one characterised by the familiar, intense idealism. In the interim, I had been arrested in 1971 while “tripping out” in Sydney on potent “acid”, or LSD (Lysergic acid diethylamide); had tried out political engagement at the Pram Factory Theatre in Melbourne; had camped out in protest at the flooding of Lake Pedder in the Tasmanian wilderness; met a young guru, started meditating, and joined “the ashram”—part of the movement known as the Divine Light Mission, which originated in India and was carried to the “West” (including Australia) by an enthusiastic and evangelical following of drug-toking drop-outs who had been swarming through India intent on escaping the dominant culture of the military-industrial complex and the horrors of the Vietnam War. Thus, by the time of the 1973 event in Nimbin, while other festival participants were foraging for “gold top” magic mushrooms in farmers’ fields, we devotees had put aside such chemical interventions in conscious awareness to dig latrines (our “service” project for the event) and we invited everyone to join us for “satsang” in the yellow, canvas-covered, geodesic dome, to attend to the message of peace. The liberation meme had shifted through a mutation that involved lifestyle-changing choices that were less about alternative approaches to sustainable agriculture and more about engaging directly with “mind’s true liberation”. Raising Consciousness What comes into focus here is the meme of “consciousness raising”, which became the persistent project within which I lived and worked and had my being for many years. Triggered initially by the ingestion of those psychedelic substances that led to my shocking encounter with the police, the project was carried forward into the more disciplined environs of my guru’s ashrams. However, before my encounter with sustained spiritual practice I had tried to work the shift within the parameters of an ostensibly political framework. “Consciousness raising” was a form of political activism borrowed from the political sphere. Originally generated by Mao Zedong in China during the revolutionary struggle to overthrow the vested colonial interests that were choking Chinese nationalism in the 1940s, to our “distant, foreign brains” (Monod), as Western revolutionary romantics, Chairman Mao and his Little Red Book were taken up, in a kind of international counterculture solidarity with revolutionaries everywhere. It must be admitted, this solidarity was a fairly superficial gesture. Back in China it might be construed as part of a crude totalitarian campaign to inculcate Marxist-Leninist political ideas among the peasant classes (see Compestine for a fictionalised account of traumatic times; Han Suyin’s long-form autobiography—an early example of testimonio as personal and political history—offers an unapologetic account of a struggle not usually construed as sympathetically by Western commentators). But the meme (and the processes) of consciousness raising were picked up by feminists in the United States in the late 1960s and into the 1970s (Brownmiller 21) and it was in this form I encountered it as an actor with the politically engaged theatre troupe, The Australian Performing Group, at Carlton’s Pram Factory Theatre in late 1971. The Performance Group I performed as a core member of the Group in 1971-72. Decisions as to which direction the Group should take were to be made as a collective, and the group veered towards anarchy. Most of the women were getting together outside of the confines of the Pram Factory to raise their consciousness within the Carlton Women’s Liberation Cell Group. While happy that the sexual revolution was reducing women’s sexual inhibitions, some of the men at the Factory were grumbling into their beer, disturbed that intimate details of their private lives—and their sexual performance—might be disclosed and raked over by a bunch of radical feminists. As they began to demand equal rights to orgasm in the bedroom, the women started to seek equal access within the performance group, too. They requested rehearsal time to stage the first production by the Women’s Theatre Group, newly formed under the umbrella of the wider collective. As all of the acknowledged writers in the Group so far were men—some of whom had not kept pace in consciousness raising—scripts tended to be viewed as part of a patriarchal plot, so Betty Can Jump was an improvised piece, with the performance material developed entirely by the cast in workshop-style rehearsals, under the direction of Kerry Dwyer (see Blundell, Zuber-Skerritt 21, plus various contributors at www.pramfactory.com/memoirsfolder/). I was the only male in the collective included in the cast. Several women would have been more comfortable if no mere male were involved at all. My gendered attitudes would scarcely have withstood a critical interrogation but, as my partner was active in launching the Women’s Electoral Lobby, I was given the benefit of the doubt. Director Kerry Dwyer liked my physicalised approach to performance (we were both inspired by the “poor theatre” of Jerzy Grotowski and the earlier surrealistic theories of Antonin Artaud), and I was cast to play all the male parts, whatever they would be. Memorable material came up in improvisation, much of which made it into the performances, but my personal favorite didn’t make the cut. It was a sprawling movement piece where I was “born” out of a symbolic mass of writhing female bodies. It was an arduous process and, after much heaving and huffing, I emerged from the birth canal stammering “SSSS … SSSS … SSMMMO-THER”! The radical reversioning of culturally authorised roles for women has inevitably, if more slowly, led to a re-thinking of the culturally approved and reinforced models of masculinity, too, once widely accepted as entirely biologically ordained rather than culturally constructed. But the possibility of a queer re-versioning of gender would be recognised only slowly. Liberation Meanwhile, Dennis Altman was emerging as an early spokesman for gay, or homosexual, liberation and he was invited to address the collective. Altman’s stirring book, Homosexual: Oppression and Liberation, had recently been published, but none of us had read it. Radical or not, the Group had shown little evidence of sensitivity to gender-queer issues. My own sexuality was very much “oppressed” rather than liberated and I would have been loath to use “queer” to describe myself. The term “homosexual” was fraught with pejorative, quasi-medical associations and, in a collective so divided across strict and sometimes hostile gender boundaries, deviant affiliations got short shrift. Dennis was unsure of his reception before this bunch of apparent “heteros”. Sitting at the rear of the meeting, I admired his courage. It took more self-acceptance than I could muster to confront the Group on this issue at the time. Somewhere in the back of my mind, “homosexuality” was still something I was supposed to “get over”, so I failed to respond to Altman’s implicit invitation to come out and join the party. The others saw me in relationship with a woman and whatever doubts they might have carried about the nature of my sexuality were tactfully suspended. Looking back, I am struck by the number of simultaneous poses I was trying to maintain: as an actor; as a practitioner of an Artaudian “theatre of cruelty”; as a politically committed activist; and as a “hetero”-sexual. My identity was an assemblage of entities posing as “I”; it was as if I were performing a self. Little gay boys are encouraged from an early age to hide their real impulses, not only from others—in the very closest circle, the family; at school; among one’s peers—but from themselves, too. The coercive effects of shaming usually fix the denial into place in our psyches before we have any intellectual (or political) resources to consider other options. Growing up trying to please, I hid my feelings. In my experience, it could be downright dangerous to resist the subtle and gross coercions that applied around gender normativity. The psychoanalyst D. W. Winnicott, of the British object-relations school, argues that when the environment does not support the developing personality and requires the person to sacrifice his or her own spontaneous needs to adapt to environmental demands, there is not even a resting-place for individual experience and the result is a failure in the primary narcissistic state to evolve an individual. The “individual” then develops as an extension of the shell rather than that of the core [...] What there is left of a core is hidden away and is difficult to find even in the most far-reaching analysis. The individual then exists by not being found. The true self is hidden, and what we have to deal with clinically is the complex false self whose function is to keep this true self hidden. (212) How to connect to that hidden core, then? “Mind’s true liberation...” Alienated from the performative version of selfhood, but still inspired by the promise of liberation, even in the “fuzzy” form for which my inchoate hunger yearned (sexual liberation? political liberation? mystical liberation?), I was left to seek out a more authentic basis for selfhood, one that didn’t send me spinning along the roller-coaster of psychedelic drugs, or lie to me with the nostrums of a toxic, most forms of which would deny me, as a sexual, moral and legal pariah, the comforts of those “anchorage points to the social matrix” identified by Soddy (cited in Mol 58). My spiritual inquiry was “counter” to these institutionalised models of religious culture. So, I began to read my way through a myriad of books on comparative religion. And to my surprise, rather than taking up with the religions of antique cultures, instead I encountered a very young guru, initially as presented in a simply drawn poster in the window of Melbourne’s only vegetarian restaurant (Shakahari, in Carlton). “Are you hungry and tired of reading recipe books?” asked the figure in the poster. I had little sense of where that hunger would lead me, but it seemed to promise a fulfilment in ways that the fractious politics of the APG offered little nourishment. So, while many of my peers in the cities chose to pursue direct political action, and others experimented with cooperative living in rural communes, I chose the communal lifestyle of the ashram. In these different forms, then, the conscious raising meme persisted when other challenges raised by the counterculture either faded or were absorbed in the mainstream. I finally came to realise that the intense disillusionment process I had been through (“dis-illusionment” as the stripping away of illusions) was the beginning of awakening, in effect a “spiritual initiation” into a new way of seeing myself and my “place” in the world. Buddhist teachers might encourage this very kind of stripping away of false notions as part of their teaching, so the aspiration towards the “true liberation” of the mind expressed in the Aquarian visioning might be—and in my case, actually has been and continues to be—fulfilled to a very real extent. Gurus and the entire turn towards Eastern mysticism were part of the New Age meme cluster prevailing during the early 1970s, but I was fortunate to connect with an enduring set of empirical practices that haven’t faded with the fashions of the counterculture. A good guitarist would never want to play in public without first tuning her instrument. In a similar way, it is now possible for me to tune my mind back to a deeper, more original source of being than the socially constructed sense of self, which had been so fraught with conflicts for me. I have discovered that before gender, and before sexuality, in fact, pulsing away behind the thicket of everyday associations, there is an original, unconditioned state of beingness, the awareness of which can be reclaimed through focused meditation practices, tested in a wide variety of “real world” settings. For quite a significant period of time I worked as an instructor in the method on behalf of my guru, or mentor, travelling through a dozen or so countries, and it was through this exposure that I was able to observe that the practices worked independently of culture and that “mind’s true liberation” was in many ways a de-programming of cultural indoctrinations (see Marsh, 2014, 2013, 2011 and 2007 for testimony of this process). In Japan, Zen roshi might challenge their students with the koan: “Show me your original face, before you were born!” While that might seem to be an absurd proposal, I am finding that there is a potential, if unexpected, liberation in following through such an inquiry. As “hokey” as the Aquarian meme-set might have been, it was a reflection of the idealistic hope that characterised the cluster of memes that aggregated within the counterculture, a yearning for healthier life choices than those offered by the toxicity of the military-industrial complex, the grossly exploitative effects of rampant Capitalism and a politics of cynicism and domination. The meme of the “true liberation” of the mind, then, promised by the heady lyrics of a 1970s hippie musical, has continued to bear fruit in ways that I could not have imagined. References Altman, Dennis. Homosexual Oppression and Liberation. Sydney: Angus & Robertson, 1972. Blundell, Graeme. The Naked Truth: A Life in Parts. 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The exegesis and the creative work are complementary forms of a poetic inquiry into gendered engagements with the Coorong’s landscape, ecosystem and human history. Through a framework informed by post-colonial theory, psychoanalysis and French feminist philosophy, the exegesis explores why the traditional conflation of nature and femininity has so often been occasioned by silence and as an unrepresentable space of absence in western writing and discourse. In both components of the thesis, the exploration of female subjectivity and alternative ways of connecting to place are rooted within the local details of the Coorong estuary as the grounds to particularising the aesthetic, ethical and political engagements at stake for this fragile ecosystem. This has required an examination of the ways in which dualist logic has shaped western culture, language, subjectivity and knowledge and, more specifically, how this dualistic conceptual ordering of the world has operated to negate a subjectivity and language specific to the feminine. The exegesis then turns to two male-authored texts which have deeply influenced mainstream representations of the Coorong and discourses of human engagement with its landscapes to identify the operations of masculine desire. Analysis and psychoanalytic interpretations of these texts are then contrasted with a discussion of the creative work’s exploration of female desire, subjectivity, trauma and the aesthetics of a feminine engagement with nature. These ideas culminate with an exploration of the possibilities of a female sublime. Overall, the idea of a feminine aesthetic is an experimental one that engages with poetic language, narrative forms and psychoanalytic theory to re-imagine the conceptual framework that shapes subjectivity.
Thesis (Ph.D.) -- University of Adelaide, School of Humanities, 2014