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About Content in Context

Content in Context helps companies to define the market for their products and services, to identify customers and build the business pipeline, and to develop their content marketing strategies. By working with our clients to design, build and grow their business, our primary focus is to extract commercial value from unique assets, including knowledge, data, know-how, processes and transactional information.

Notes from Auckland

Over the past couple of years, I’ve been fortunate to make several trips to Auckland, as part of the work I do with Techemy and Brave New Coin. Although I had been to New Zealand a few times before these latest visits, it was only recently that I understood why Maori call it Aotearoa – “Land of the Long White Cloud” – as you can see from this photo I took from the office window.

To anyone from Australia who has spent time in New Zealand, it is quickly apparent that Maori culture and language are far more respected and recognised than idigenous identity is across the Tasman. From the bilingual signage and national anthem to the Haka performed prior to every All Blacks game, Maori identity is more visible and celebrated.

On my most recent visit a couple of weeks ago, this was reinforced during a guided tour of the University of Auckland’s art collection, as part of Artweek. First, the guide used Maori words for local place names. Second, he drew attention to some of the challenges that he and the other curators face when dealing with Taonga objects – which also opens up the debate about art vs craft. Third, he acknowledged that in his own early studies, he was influenced and even encouraged by his tutors to incorporate elements of Moari art into his own work – even though as someone of European (Pakeha) descent he did not really understand what these images represented. Finally, this form of appropriation can lead to questions about whether an artist’s identity (cultural or otherwise) should define their work and whether that work should only be interpreted through their identity. For example, can “maori art” only be produced by artists who are ethnically Moari? The artist Gordon Walters deployed images of Koru in his most famous work, which can divide critics and academics.

In many ways, Auckland is very similar to Sydney – both are their country’s largest city, but neither is the capital. Both are formed and defined by their respective harbours – and this in turn very much influences how people engage with their city: based on where they live, and their commute to work. Likewise, both Auckland (Albert Street) and Sydney (George Street) are trying to play catch-up with their public transport systems, which have not kept pace with the rate of urban and population growth. And, no doubt connected, both cities have very expensive property markets.

One of the things that I always notice in Auckland is how many buildings in the CBD are polyhedron in shape. Some of them even display an element of “Pacific Brutalism” which seems to be very popular in public and municipal architecture, from Hawaii to Singapore and beyond. It could be that polyhedral structures are more earthquake prone – or because Auckland is very hilly, giving rise to “creative” building designs.

To overcome the topography (and the limitations of the public transport system), a number of hire companies offer electric scooters for getting around the city. While it seems a great (and environmentally friendly) idea, the fact that there are no fixed pick-up and drop-off points, users can leave them anywhere – and many are even to be found lying across the pavement, causing something of an obstruction.

Finally, no visit to Auckland is complete without a ferry ride to Waihiki Island, for lunch and/or wine-tasting at one of the many cellar doors.

Next week: Startup Vic’s Pitch Night for Migrant and First Generation Founders

 

 

 

Climate Change and Personal Choices

Melbourne has recently seen a number of protest events linked to the Extinction Rebellion. At the same time, the pro-life lobby were conducting their annual protest against the Victorian Government’s Abortion Law.

It’s quite ironic to see some people advocating for a response to climate change, while others are effectively campaigning for population growth. Yet we also understand that the current global rate of population growth is probably unsustainable; and increased human activity is a major contributing factor to greenhouse gases.

An article from a couple of years ago suggested that having fewer children and living car free were two of the most effective individual choices we can make to reducing our carbon footprint. Of course, some argued that such individual choices were “nonsense”, and would likely undermine the effort for political action on climate change.

For myself, I don’t have children (and don’t plan to), and I don’t own a car (although I sometimes use ride share services). I don’t have an exclusively plant-based diet, although I tend to eat less meat than I used to (side note – if we were meant to be vegan, why do honey and yoghurt taste so good, especially together?). I do travel overseas fairly regularly, but if household water and energy consumption is anything to go by, I think I am well below average.

I don’t think that making appropriate and voluntary individual choices to reduce our carbon footprint negates the responsibility of governments to implement collective change. Nor should individual decisions be seen to be undermining political action on abating the effects of global warming. But policy makers and climate activists alike should recognise and acknowledge that some people are willing (and yes, in some cases, able) to make individual choices that contribute to reducing greenhouse gases.

As for the pro-life lobby, I wonder what they made of the film “Capernaum”? In it, a child sues his parents for the “crime” of giving him life. What astonishes him is their general neglect and disregard (bordering on abuse) for him and his siblings. He can’t understand why any responsible adult would willingly and knowingly expose their children to the life they lead. There is an implication that the parents see their offspring as economic bargaining chips, and of course, there are religious, societal and cultural “norms” that underpin many of the parents’ decisions. With so many unwanted and unloved children brought into the world, and sometimes to parents who may end up mistreating them or worse, I guess the thing that frustrates me with the pro-lifers is their apparent unwillingness to accept that not everyone is fit or able to be parents. We need a license to get married or drive a car, but we don’t need a license to procreate…. Equally, not everyone chooses to be parents, and therefore pro-choice is not so much about the right to “murder” unborn children, it’s about the right to plan our lives and to ensure we are able to meet our personal obligations.

Next week: Notes from Auckland

 

 

School Reunion

Last weekend, I attended the first official reunion lunch in Melbourne for former pupils of my old high school. On first glance, that might not seem a very remarkable event. Except that my school was in London, I left in 1979, and my fellow lunch guests left as long ago as 1959. I had never met any of them before. Yet in different circumstances, and at different times, each of us has ended up living in Australia.

Normally I’m not one to play the “old school tie” card – I don’t particularly care, and I am not really interested in, which school someone attended. In fact, having spent my high school years overseas means that here in Australia, no one can really play that card against me without seeming elitist, snobbish, or just plain foolish. Because, despite its claims to being an egalitarian country, some sections of Australian society place a great deal of importance on their private school connections. (Remember OneTel and the Cranbrook alumni?)

One of our lunchtime topics of discussion (which also touched on current geo-political affairs, the state of the entertainment industry, the economy, and the future of the planet….) was the extent to which our secondary education had formed our world outlook. The main conclusion was that although the school placed a considerable emphasis on academic standards and achievements, it was not merely a sausage factory (at least, not during our days there). The goal was to produce well-rounded, confident and curious individuals, who were encouraged to make the most of their abilities. (If the list of alumni is anything to go by, the school has certainly turned out some highly individual characters.)

I’m still in contact with a number of my contemporaries, and I try to meet up with a few of them each time I’m in London. After all these years, it’s hard to know whether our alma mater is the primary factor that still connects us, as our friendships have both endured and changed over that time. Certainly, most of us wouldn’t otherwise have met – but even before we left school, we had established common interests (especially in music) that continue to this day.

In conclusion, I would say I’m very grateful for the high school education I received, for the opportunities it gave me, and the friends I have made. And on the basis of the first reunion event that has ever been held outside the UK (as far as we are aware), it looks like my school will continue connecting me to new and interesting people.

Next week: Climate Change and Personal Choices

 

 

 

Musical Memories – Of Time and Place

Although sound is supposed to be the weakest sensory trigger for recalling memories, I suspect most of us can readily associate a song or a piece of music with a significant time, event or place we heard it. Indeed, music is often more evocative of our emotional response than either smell or taste, which at a primal level are readily connected with survival and self-preservation. (Music cannot kill or harm us, but poisonous or rancid food can.)

This thought occurred to me recently when I was on a weekend trip to the country with a group of friends. Sitting round the log fire under a starlit sky, The Doors’ “Riders on the storm” came on the streaming playlist. At that particular moment, it seemed an ideal setting to hear this track. Even though I have heard the song many times before, this latest airing has now created a new memory association – the time, the setting, the people I was with, the food and drink we enjoyed.

Of course, in this particular context, it also reminded me of the first time I consciously heard the record. As a young teenager in the mid-seventies, I used to fall asleep listening to my transistor radio, usually tuned into the original UK pirate station, Radio Caroline. Caroline mostly broadcast classic and progressive rock – often playing a whole album without interruption. It introduced me to a lot of bands and music I did not hear on Top 40 or daytime radio – so it was an important part of my musical education.

Road trips seem particularly adept at forming musical associations: in my case, a drive to the Yorkshire coast accompanied by a bootleg tape of the Beach Boy’s “Smile” sessions; a night time journey through the Anza-Borrego Desert, with the roof down, listening to Primal Scream’s “Screamadelica”; and just a couple of months ago, hearing the Pink Floyd song “Wish You Were Here” while touring part of the Croatian coast. Even though I was very familiar with those records before these particular journeys, the specific context of those trips means the music will forever be linked to the events.

I suspect this memory association is largely because our response to, and engagement with music is often dependent on our mood. If we are more alert to and in tune with our surroundings, this receptive state of mind leads us to make mental and emotional links via the accompanying musical soundtrack. These triggers mean that we are more able to recall or even replicate that mood via the use of the associated songs.

All this as The Beatles’ “Abbey Road” celebrates its 50th anniversary. As a child, this was the first Beatles album we had in our home. We already owned a number of their singles, which had a huge impact on my early listening adventures. But “Abbey Road” was probably the first album I really engaged with. Even now, there are large sections I can replay in my head. The song order is likewise entrenched, thanks to the format of the vinyl LP in the pre-shuffle and pre-streaming era. The cathartic extended coda of “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)” at the end of side 1, that gives way to the upbeat and optimistic “Here Comes The Sun” at the start of side 2. I have every expectation that when I next listen to “Abbey Road”, it will still trigger memories of my childhood and listening to the record with my older sisters.

Next week: School Reunion