Kicking off New Years’ celebrations on December 30, the worst and best of the Inner West clipped their carabiners to their belt loops and squeezed into Alpha Arts Cooperative to listen to live music, enjoy art, watch films, and simply just chat.
Just off the Paris end of King St, ‘Expired Milk’ is the fourth iteration of ‘Milk Arts Night’, organised by a collective of young Sydney creatives, helmed by Kamyar Murphy. Over the last year, this group has curated a memorable mosaic of rising Sydney art. This was the final iteration of the art nights, with the three previous often a mixture of student art, music and film at Join-the-Dots Workshop in Marrickville.
The sold-out event made great use of the Alpha Arts Co-op’s different spaces. Attendees were met at the top of the stairs by a collection of local zines to purchase, including the excellent first issue of Booker Magazine.
The night centred around the Alpha Arts Coop’s gallery/living room space, where art adorned the walls, and short films were projected on the far wall and then again if you ventured down the backyard stairs to a screen in the garden.
The short films were curated by the Collective of Underground Movie Lovers public competition. The only two rules were that it was a two-to-five minute piece, and filmed on a phone or cheap camera. The Collective noted that “we want to see a human touch behind your work.” And that they sure did. While the sound was often hard to hear, attendees gathered on the rugs to watch these gritty, grungy, funny, animated and pastiche films. One filmmaker told Honi Soit, “yeah my friend told me to submit and so I did. It’s cool what Milk has going on here.” The most memorable film of the night was called Gooners. We can’t remember whose it was and we don’t want to ask questions.
On the balcony, bands played beneath a tarpaulin. Down the stairs and into the garden, the Collective of Underground Movie Lovers screened found photo slides, celebrating the lost memories of strangers.
The variation of spaces created a refreshing dynamic, with the crowds moving with relative ease between the living room, the deck, and the garden. If you got bored of a space or of a particular conversation, you could simply go somewhere else and in turn observe a different medium.
The spaces had the effect of making conversation easier rather than harder, with the lengthy bathroom line (running almost the length of the living room at times), comprised of people who were always up for a chat. Honi engaged in discourse on unionism, depressing poetry, sex, and the political strategy of Socialist Alternative, among many other delightful topics.
One of the installations by Jo Staas framed a bold and bright collection of floral drawings with the inclusion of Women’s Honi pieces organised by the Women’s Collective weaved throughout.
While busy giving people stick-and-pokes on the night, Valerie Joy’s photography celebrated local music, and the scene unfolding in front of us. Their printed shirts, emblazoned with “Kill your local transphobe” were also a crowd favourite. UTS Vertigo editor Mia Rankin’s scattered zines occupied their own table, delighting readers with images and words on “Pop and Politics” and “Complete List of Poptropica Islands I’d Holiday To”. Rankin’s zines were warm, imaginative, and a lot of fun to flick through.
DIY zine culture seems to be making a strong return to the creative scene. The curation all called to the importance of the human touch, of the DIY projects, of the handmade and handsewn–in turn, suggesting attendees go and try their hand.
On a side note, Honi would like to pay our condolences to the death of the cigarette and the regretful rise of the vape; we hope to never smell kiwi passionfruit again.
The musical lineup was stacked with stalwarts of the Sydney indie music scene. Euterpe kickstarted the live show with an impressive and nuanced performance followed by Creepy Jenny who captivated the crowd with their bouncy rock style. The night ended with a performance by Sonnet and The Breadboys who told giggling anecdotes of milk-related experiences in between their vibrant songs. The atmosphere was aided by neon lighting, hesitant drops of rain, and horse masks, with the organisers having left enough time for the crowd to recharge between acts.
While there was an undeniable strain within the audience of people who are a bit too invested in the somewhat performative atmosphere of Inner West creative spaces, the event also attracted a distinct spectrum of observers, art critics, movie enjoyers or simply a few mates with spare beers in their fridge. Hard solos in hand, NYE plans on the mind, blistering Docs on the feet, Honi had a great time.
Regardless, MILK’s end is a reminder of the constant labour undertaken in the creative scene to ensure its extra-institutional survival. Honi hopes another group of young hopefuls will soon fill the vacuum left by the collective (whoever you are please tell us, we’d love to come to your events).
Photography by George McMillan
