Editorial

Hollywood thinks it’s exposing the art world’s grift, but it’s just another con. From Velvet Buzzsaw to Picasso Baby, cinema keeps repackaging conceptual cringe as critique—while artists play along. If contemporary art is now just another film genre, it’s a bad one.

Jas H. Duke was a poet, performer, and anarchist whose art erupted from the margins. In 1973, he returned to Melbourne after years in England, bringing with him an electrified style of performance poetry and a deep affinity for Dada. A fixture of underground cinema and experimental literature, Duke remains difficult to contain.

From borrowing Tarkovsky at the UQ library to representing Australia at the Venice Biennale, Archie Moore’s art interrogates memory, history, and place. But what role does cinema play in his practice?