Acknowledgment goes beyond mere signalling. It is the understanding that nothing is ever truly solitary—that to acknowledge is a privilege, shaped by privilege itself. Practice is a strange creature that reveals itself through relation. This is a love song to the many who form part of the field: a fleshy scaffolding for stories to become vocal. There have been countless exchanges in coming to terms with practice in these times: through dreams and failures, deaths and songs.
I’ll begin with a hum.
I acknowledge the land on which I live, work, and create, with kangaroos, tawny frogmouths, wombats, rabbits, owls, black cockatoos, foxes, deer, Paterson’s Curse, eucalyptus trees, echidnas, eastern brown snakes, wormwood, cacti, bush rats, and possums, on Wurundjeri Woiwurrung Country. I acknowledge Elders past, present, and emerging, who continue to care for Country. I acknowledge that I am an uninvited guest on stolen land with privilege to thrive. I also acknowledge the ongoing colonial violence here and abroad. Free Palestine, Free Congo, Free Sudan.
To my grandmother, mother, father, aunties, uncles, sister, brother, nieces, and nephew who sowed the seeds for experimental making long ago. Singing long notes around tables, jamming and recording songs, Greek dancing and group singing, creating with what we had. Thank you for your labour and love. It is because of you that I can cultivate a life rich in practice and community.
It takes a literal herd to raise an artist. To my equine companions, their guardian Sacajawea, and extended kin, thank you for teaching me that animals have histories and personhoods beyond symbols, forms and studies. Thank you for teaching me what it means to attune, to be brave, to listen, and to respond. To be accountable to the process. Sacajawea, you opened a door that will never close. To the Jocklebeary pony riders, thank you for trusting me and singing with me.
This show would not be possible without Elyse Goldfinch—thank you for showing me what curation means, what allyship in the arts can look like, and for creating pathways for this practice—not just supporting me, but the many worlds it connects to. We are lucky to have you.
To the art shepherds who have held me and nourished my autonomy and agency within the institution while cultivating my artist-academic being:
Tessa Laird, your practice of inclusive pedagogy and critical thinking with more-than-humans and more-than-writing has changed my life, making me feel welcome in a space that once felt inaccessible. Thank you for your spirit and integrity.
Vikki McInnes thank you for your care, fierce support, and critical eye.
The late Kate Daw whose voice I still hear at every milestone.
Alexandra Pirici, your mentorship has helped me navigate an industry that can feel tough, guiding me through the intersections of live performance and documentation. Thank you for teaching me to trust my instincts.
Michael Taussig, thank you for your generosity, for asking questions, and for inviting me into your worlds.
Joseph Franklin, my partner in life and music, thank you for twenty years of passion, openness, and inspiration. I learn from you every day. Thank you for always being there and making dirt bike’s sing.
Wil Normyle, thank you for joining me on many adventures, for late-night editing, for wild, no-budget experiments, for driving tractors, while framing surreal moments. Thank you for trusting the cinema gods I carry close, I am so grateful for our time together and the work we have made.
To Matthew Cassar, thank you for inviting me into your home, for becoming a friend. It has been a privilege to learn from you and create with you—thank you for sharing your blind vision.
Anna Nalpantidis, thank you for your dramaturgical presence—for your assistance, support, and for helping navigate a large team and complex work. And Petra Leslie, what a thrill to make a film and share this experience with you. Thank you for your expertise, generosity, and full-heartedness. Being surrounded by talented, caring, strong, and generous Greek women in the arts is a gift.
Romanie Harper, thank you for crystallising metaphors into matterphores and growing the impossible on machines and riders. Your perseverance and resourcefulness have been magic, and I continue to be astonished by your ways of making things.
Ellen Sayers and your team, thank you for your fierce commitment and craft, for arranging the impossible with love, speaking to all your different makers and going above and beyond. Kindred spirits.
Steve Berrick you are a wizard and a joy to work with, a calm force in the storm of AV tricksterism, fields of triggers, and making divination a device for troubling cinema.
Alistair McLean, thank you for your clarity in working and for knowing how to make complex, messy sound worlds elegant—creating an environment for us all.
Zac Millner-Cretney, thank you for managing the many parts of editing, for the conversations and the way in switch you sensitively brought the image-sound worlds together.
Tim Harvey, thank you for your patience and joyful energy in recording so many voices. I cherish those days together.
To the creative vocalists: Jocklebeary Farm Pony Club (Emily, Holly, Tanika, Zahli); Jenny Hickinbotham, Julie Franklin, Upwey High School, Peter Bowman, my family (Mum, Grandma, Aunty Mary, Uncle Pete, Uncle George, Kotch, and Joseph), Sacajawea, Lisa Salvo, and Aarti Jadu. Thank you for recording so many things on the spot, for cultivating cinema-by-other-means.
To Azza Zien, Fayen d’Evie, Juundaal Strange-Yettica, Tessa Laird, Michael Taussig, Alexandra Pirici, Tara Hefferman—thank you for your thoughtful texts and for bringing many threads together.
To the ACCA team, Sam Vawdrey, Shae Nagorcka, Mark Hislop and fellow technicians; and education team, thank you for engaging with this field of practice, for doing all you can to meet me and my team.
Max Delany, thank you for advocating for this work, for pushing me, for inviting me into a space I thought was out of reach.
Andrew Kaineder, Mitchell O’Hearn, and Tara O'Conal, thank you for also being part of this story, for your time and artfulness in low-to-no-budget making
Tom Goodman, thank you for your patience, for listening, and for helping me thread the needle through the messiness of this practice.
Thank you Sarah Walker, Otis Filley, and Tom Denize for assistance in filming You Can’t See Speed 2025 and providing critical behind the scenes documentation.
To Alice Heyward, Lily Potget, Celina Hage, Jennifer Greer Holmes, Erin Davidson, and the Dance the War of Proximity youth group — thank you for your skills, generosity, and time. Thank you for creating worlds within worlds with me.
To the communities in Kandos (Dabbe Country), Carnamah and the Midwest (Amangu, Badymia, Widi, and Yued Country), Cottles Bridge (Wurundjeri Woi Wurrung Country), Dookie (Yorta Yorta Country), Upwey (Bunurong Country), Doreen (Wurundjeri Woi Wurrung Country), Wattle Glen (Wurundjeri Woi Wurrung Country), and Morwell (Gunai Kurnai Country), thank you for trusting me, for befriending me, and for making this work with me.
To the hummers, alpaca families, farmers, retirees, footballers, churchgoers, bovine communities, craft groups, writing groups, pony clubs, musicians, and singing groups—you are a planet.
Joanna Kitto, thank you for your advocacy for artists, artist-run spaces, and the small but potent spaces like West Space. I can’t wait for Part Two.
To Spaced, North Midlands Projects, Cementa, Centre of Visual Art, University of Melbourne (VCA), Centre for Projection Art, We are Crayon, Creative Australia, 3ecologies (Erin Manning and Brian Massumi), DADAA, West Australian Opera, Lemac, Boral Quarries Wollert, Mission to Seafarers, Auspicious Arts, City of Melbourne, and Arts House—thank you for your support along the way in funding, administrative processes, access, space, and time. To new and old friends and extended family—Huxley, Durè Dara, Lisa Salvo, Mattie Sempert, Daniel Silver, Jess Xavier-Silver and Lev Xavier-Silver, Rose Williams, The Music Box Project, Jordan Silver, Tao Moles-Harvey, Nikos Papastergiadis, Nik Pantazopoulos, Scott McConnachie, Josè Da Silva, Yeliz Selvi, Cem Yildiz, Lois Woolley, Audex Mrozik Gawler, Chief, Candice Harber, Zev Tropp, Shannon May Powell, Julie and Steve Franklin, Callum G’Froerer and family—thank you for the therapy edits, the check-ins, making posters, the laughter and tears, the long-distance stories, the advice, lending me instruments, listening, writing support letters, taking photos, the haircuts, the couches, the feasts, connecting me to your families, and recording last-minute hymns.
And To Lloyd Mst and Jake Bonin, thank you for extending the show into an online home—a place where voices, images, words, and songs can live on, inviting many to discover the practice beyond the exhibition.