AustLit

'Framing my work in the context of this topic can be done, but please excuse me if I come at it in a peculiar way. Superstition does relate, in some ways, but far more in my life than in my work, but obviously the two things are not mutually exclusive. I have never been superstitious in the usual sense of the way we use the word. I have never broken a mirror, but I have certainly crossed the path of a few black cats, so to speak, and it never bothered me. What I am cautious about, though, is giving power to ideas by speaking them. I have had many experiences in my life when careless words said in jest have forecast grim tidings. This may sound silly—and yes, superstitious—but I figure it can’t hurt not to tempt fate. Allow me to explain.' 

(Introduction)

'A little over five years ago, I was in the middle of a PhD candidature in literature at James Cook University in northern Queensland. With the relative security of a scholarship, my submission deadline felt like an eternity away and I had the good fortune of being part of a lively cohort of doctoral candidates in the Humanities and Social Sciences. Together, we had reintroduced annual postgraduate conferences in the college and established weekly meetings on the Townsville campus where eager researchers gathered to discuss ideas, politics and literature. At the college level, there were regular critical theory workshops, reading circles and seminar sessions. I encountered impressive and generous minds— many of whom have appeared in volumes of this journal. These were times before deep funding cuts and a global pandemic ravaged universities across the country. I worry that a new generation of postgraduate students—particularly those at regional institutions—won’t be afforded the time, funding or intellectual climate to take risks like starting conferences or establishing postgraduate little magazines like this one. Out of more than mere vanity, I hope the little stone we have thrown continues to roll on for a while longer until it is replaced with something more fitting for the times. This short essay purports to provide a retrospective of the first three volumes of Sūdō Journal and an assessment of its place among the various journals and little magazines of northern Queensland that have been published over the decades. It is adapted from a presentation I delivered on this subject at the James Cook University College of Arts, Society and Education postgraduate conference in 2020.' 

(Introduction)

'I first read Fat City in 2013. At the time it was an article by Dr Karen Hitchcock in The Monthly but since then it has been republished in stand-alone format by Black Inc. In it, Hitchcock drew on her work with morbidly obese1 patients in order to address the question of who is responsible for the spread of obesity in contemporary society. I clicked a Facebook link, read the article numbly and clicked out feeling uncomfortable. Hitchcock claimed she didn’t dislike fat people, yet reading her article made me feel ashamed. I couldn’t explain why, so I pushed my embarassment down. No one else seemed to have read it that way, and I suspected the response to giving voice to my feelings would be, “Yes, but you are fat. You’re being oversensitive.” I tried to forget it, but the article continued to haunt me, even influencing my choice for an honours research topic.' (Introduction)

'I have a very complicated relationship with my art. I am, by nature or by trauma (or both) a competitive perfectionist type, with the added bonus of low self-esteem. So when I look at my art, I always think it’s not good enough. In some ways, it’s an accurate enough assessment. I never had good technical skills, even when I was practicing my art actively, and the appeal of my pieces have always been in their imagination. My art has typically been categorised as naïve art, sometimes even outsider art, depending on the piece, in ways that often make me feel self-concious. So, below are the caveats I present these pieces with. I can’t help it' 

(Introduction)

C. E. Collins is a writer from Canberra.