There is a dividing line between the watcher and the watched, between journalism and art, between darkness and light.
It is during war that this duality of existence is the most apparent. Satirist Henry Naylor has crafted a darkly comedic work in 'Borders' that mightily dissects the pretension and faux-righteousness of high-born social justice crusaders, while powerfully humanising the suffering of those who, for too long, have been presented as simply pixels on the newspaper page.
Avita Lvova's unnamed graffiti artist and Graham O'Mara's seemingly intrepid photographer, Sebastian, both willingly create art on the Syrian battlefield; they are almost identical physical acts, but with vastly differing motivations. Sebastian, a trust-fund baby, made a choice between a corporate career with his Ivy League mates or an exotic and rebellious jaunt; Avita made a choice between being willful obedient to the brutal Assad regime or engaging in incendiary resistance. The entire work, as it flips between narrators, is a juxtaposition; each character obtains a level of fame or respect for their work, but how will they react? Each is offered an escape from their reality, but will they take it?
After watching Graham's portrayal of the pompous Sebastian, it is likely that you will forever need to clutch a vomit bucket any time you watch CNN or Foreign Correspondent. It is Avita, though, who transcends 'acting'; the trauma that she is living upon the stage visibly contorts her face and then finally stains it with tears. It is a performance and a work that attests to Alain de Botton's claim that art can induce empathy in a way that modern journalism, with its cold recitation of facts, simply cannot do.
If every Australian saw this piece, the walls around our continent and our hearts would inevitably collapse.
★★★★★
