From Fleabag to a nightclub, from a biennale to the ballet, Brigid Delaneys personal IsoFest took her all around the world on her laptop but it wasnt the same
Does a lockdown without mass gatherings mean a lockdown without culture? Not necessarily.
With my inbox filling up with press releases from arts organisations, musicians and writers attempting to reach their audiences online, I realise we are now in a golden age of online arts that – until people work out how to properly monetise it – is mostly free or low-cost. I could make my own festival from the comfort of my own home.
Curating my own three-day, multi-arts, multi-platform festival – to enjoy by myself – wasn’t the same as attending a real one. But it was … an experience.
Friday 17 April
5pm: a literary salon
How do writers road test new material in isolation? I joined a Zoom group of around 20 Byron Bay-based writers for an old-fashioned literary salon. A mellow start to my festival, Byron on the Bed is a nice way to kick back with a glass of wine and listen. My favourite is a writer who doesn’t read her own work, but has recorded snippets of conversations she’s overheard. The result is funny, but weirdly poignant: a reminder of a time when we could get close enough to other people to eavesdrop on them.
For more: Bookmark the following websites to find out about upcoming online books events: the Wheeler Centre, Sydney writers’ festival, Melbourne writers’ festival, Yarra Valley writers’ festival and new series Together Remotely.
7:30pm: pub trivia
The Red Hill Hotel is an excellent pub in a village just up the road from my house in Victoria, who are hosting Zoom trivia once a week. On my team is me and my brother (in one house), my friend (at another, via FaceTime), and his friend (at a third, texting his answers in). We then Zoom in to where the quizmaster is, and join more than 60 other faces: our competition.
It’s the most hectic trivia night I’ve ever attended. Our team’s communications system is like a centipede of failing tech. The Zoom cuts out after 40 minutes. When we log back in again, we’ve lost a teammate. The questions are too hard and we don’t know how to submit our answers. We don’t even have a team name. We never get to find out how we did because the Zoom cuts out again.
For more: Check the Facebook pages of your favourite local venues to see if they’ve moved any events online.
9:00pm: an orchestra
Agitated by the trivia, hungry, and distracted by how close the Australian Chamber Orchestra musicians are to each other (this was filmed in 2018), I’m probably not in the right state to relax into the opening movement of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. Music scholars have described it as the “most famous symphonic trajectory of expressive minor-key darkness to coruscating major-key light”, but where’s my pizza?
When it finally arrives, it doesn’t feel right eating junk food while listening to the ACO – which in real life I would sit rigidly still for the duration of, suppressing every itch and cough. I am a bit drunk, texting and eating pepperoni pizza – but this immense work by Beethoven remains undimmed.
For more: Check outthe Australian Chamber Orchestra’s digital program here.
9:45pm: a nightclub
Woo hoo! I’m logging into the club. Yeah! I’m logging in. What to wear to my first virtual nightclub? I consider it briefly then just decide to go in the activewear I’ve been wearing for six weeks.
There are more than 300 people at Mr McClelland’s Finishing School, a Zoom party iteration of the Melbourne indie-pop night. The faces in the squares remind me of Chatroulette: you never know what will appear on screen. In this case it’s either people sitting too close to their cameras or people in sequins and hotpants dancing around a fairy-lighted room. Like at a normal club, I’m texting friends who I arranged to meet here but can’t find: “I’m here, in the club, where you?”
As well as dancing (Primal Scream, Paul Simon, Robyn, Carly Rae Jepson), you can message the DJ (Andrew McClelland) or shout out to other club members. I’ve set up Zoom with a speaker to blast the music, and end up dancing and drinking until almost 1am. It’s so fun, no one’s sleazing on anyone and I don’t have to worry about getting an Uber home.
For more: Mr McClelland’s Finishing School are hosting parties every fortnight; find out more here.
Saturday 18 April
10am: a visual arts biennale
I won’t lie. I committed a rookie error last night: went too hard on the first night of a festival and now have two packed days ahead and cannot deal. At least I can attend this morning’s program from my bed.
The Biennale of Sydney has moved some of its program online; I head over to Cockatoo Island and then to the Art Gallery of New South Wales for a tour of Karla Dickens’ work. Please let the lockdown be over soon, so I can see this amazing work in real life. Visual art on a screen is just not the same.
For more: Find the digital program of the 2020 Biennale of Sydney – Nirin – on its website and its YouTube channel.
12:30pm: an exhibition
You’ll need a couple of hours to get the most from Crossing Lines. The incredible audiovisual experience of the National Gallery of Victoria’s major Keith Haring and Jean-Michel Basquiat show combines a virtual gallery 360-degree walkthrough, a social history of New York in the 1970s and 80s, and lively audio tours.
At times I get confused where I am in the space – and at other times I move the cursor too quickly and speed down corridors of art so fast I feel sick. But for the most part I really enjoy seeing an exhibition this way. For a start, it appears like a lot of thought (and money) has gone into it; the NGV’s online offering is very slick and comprehensive. It wouldn’t surprise me if they keep this up in some form or other after the lockdown ends; it’s a great way of accessing the gallery if you live far away.
For more: take the virtual tour of Crossing Lines at the NGV, and check out the rest of the NGV’s channel here.
1pm – 10pm: a music festival
Read more: www.theguardian.com