Moving into the dark room to the side for Luke Currie-Richardson’s “Gedovait,” which comes with a trigger warning to First Nations community that the “piece contains racial slurs, names of mob who are no longer with us, and news segments by racist bigots that may upset you,” I find a spot on one of several blankets on the floor. The familiar strains of Rolf Harris’s offensive hit song from the 1960s, “Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport” plays. This deeply personal work is about listening, looking, feeling, facing up to how things are, as Currie-Richardson not only disproves the prejudiced remarks of right-wing social commentator Andrew Bolt’s “idea we are a fundamentally racist country . . . You gotta get over some of this stuff,” but rather reveals what it is like to wear them every day. Removing the beanie from his head and extending it forward, Currie-Richardson appears to hand over the weight of this experience and begs, challenges: “you get over it,” but no-one does. “Gedovait” concludes with Currie-Richardson lying spent on the floor, in uncomfortably close proximity to the audience around him, and there he remains “in character” until the audience, after applauding, leaves the room and returns to the brightly lit laundry. A couple of people hover awkwardly, and seem uncomfortable to leave him in that state, whilst also respecting his space. It reveals that it is easy for us all to walk away when it is too much to face, my own self included.
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