About 80% of those attending “Futurecast” held at the ABC in Sydney today, said they use artificial intelligence in their daily work, despite concerns about its potential misuse.
âI wasnât sure if I should put my hand up or notâ, a colleague told me, noting at the ABC weâve received an explicit directive NOT to use AI for a bunch of reasons.
I personally use Google Gemini for spell-checking, grammar, and sometimes to better organise my thoughts.
A friend who runs a small business told me he used Chat GPT to automate some of the things which previously took hours to do.
Nonetheless, there are a bunch of issues.
Gavin Fang from the ABC and Kate Crawford
Renowned artificial intelligence expert Professor Kate Crawford highlighted several critical issues surrounding AI development and deployment. These include data privacy concerns, the concentration of AI power in the hands of a few, the shift from human to algorithmic curation, and the need for global regulations.The environmental cost of using AI is about 15 times that of a regular Google Search, she said.
ABC Chair Kim Williams also spoke today, offereing a more optimistic perspective on AI’s potential to revolutionize content creation. He talked about taking out the “drudge work” of journalism, allowing journalists to concentrate on more important issues. He also emphasized the importance of AI literacy for everyone.
Angela Stengell from the ABC and Kim Williams
One of my favourite comments from Williams today was about âcastingâ. In movies, films, on radio, tv etc, itâs all about finding the right people, casting them. He said this principle also applies to life and the people you surround yourself with!
It’s been a busy week for getting out and about with work, starting with the launch of the book about Slim Dusty. Essentially, it’s a photographic book, but with some reminisences, too. It was put together by photo-journalist, John Elliott, who has been travelling on the road with Slim for many years. There was quite an array of country music glitterati in attendance, including Kasey Chambers (and her very spunky husband and brother), Lee Kernaghan, Gina Jefffreys etc. Out of “Tamworth Mode”, they were just fairly ordinary people, I thought, with Slim Dusty really being the only one with a strong presence. Oh, I tell a lie, Ten’s showbiz reporter, Angela Bishop was there.
On Wednesday night, I went to the opening of the 2002 Helen Lempriere Travelling Art Scholarship, a $40,000 art prize for emerging artists. Given my new found interest in collecting art, I was both professionally and personally interested in going. In my view, there was nothing spectacular, but there were some interesting works:
“Filter Feeder” by Alex Davies: You enter a room with an audio soundtrack playing “atmospheric” music and are surrounded by abstract video projections. Right in the middle of the room there was a goldfish bowl, with the lighting such that the gold fish became part of the video projection.
“Watching Falling Down” by Lisa Andrew: The work was based on a photograph of a woman’s reaction to watching the twin towers falling on September 11. The image, which Lisa says is a “drawing” has been remade from layers of fabric, delicately pinned to the wall.
“Between Iran, Peter Hore and Australia” by Alex Kershaw: A video projection and installation about Peter Hore, the so-called “serial pest” who ripped the net during Australia’s crucial World Cup soccer qualifier against Iran in Melbourne, and Alex Kershaw’s attempts to track him down, writing to just about every P. Hore in Australia, and including those envelopes in the exhibition. Peter Hore, also, for the record, interrupted the funeral of rock singer Michael Hutchence, invaded the floor in the South Australian parliament and charged supermodel Sarah O’Hare on stage during a lingerie launch at Brisbane.
“Five Photographs That Destroyed My Life” by Maria Kontis: I liked the title more than the photographs.
“Tell the story about the bed…”, someone yelled out from the crowd attending the opening night of the Michael Riley retrospective at The Commercial Gallery in Sydney tonight.
As noted by Wikipedia…
Michael Riley (1960â2004) was an Australian Indigenous photographer and film-maker, and co-founder of Boomalli Aboriginal Artists Cooperative. A significant figure in Contemporary Indigenous Australian art, Riley’s work is held by many public art institutions including the National Gallery of Australia.
The exhibition at The Commercial Gallery features about twenty very beautiful photographs taken by him during the 80s, 90s, and 2000s. They’re all black and white portrait photographs, shot simply and processed reasonably heavily. All of the subjects are Indigenous Australians living and working in Sydney at the time.
There’s some beautiful father/daughter, father/son photographs, along with some stunning single person photographs, including one of a bloke called Darryl who is a friend of a friend. I’m not sure how old Darryl is now (as we chatted tonight I kept looking at the grey of his temples and in his three-day beard growth) but in the photograph, it looks like he’s in his early twenties. With long dark hair and his eyes closed (and looking very, very attractive), you wonder what’s going through his mind. He actually told us tonight the story behind the photograph (which was hilarious), though I don’t know if I should re-share that story here.
But since the story about the bed was told publicly by Michael Riley’s sister I suppose it’s okay to re-share here. She told the story of how her brother secretly recorded a conversation between her and a friend as they chatted as teenagers about “boys” by secretly placing a cassette recorder under her bed. He later embarrassed her by playing it back to her. The story illustrated in some ways how Michael Riley (through photography) spent his life quietly documenting the lives of those around him. He sounds like he was an interesting bloke.
Michael Riley
Many of those attending tonight’s exhibition were also at the opening night last night of an exhibition at Sydney’s Carriageworks which documents twenty years of the Gadigal Information Service. What was “Radio Redfern”, but became “Koori Radio” is beautifully documented in a series of photographs, sound files and videos. “They’ve even got the fridge”, a couple of friends commented, upon seeing the sticker-adorned fridge of the community radio station. As I looked closely at the stickers on the fridge, they tell the story of community radio stations around Australia run by Indigenous people.
For me, the interesting part was seeing the carefully laid out program guide, reminding me of my time in community radio where programming decisions were often made around people’s availability, rather than what the audience would want. “I can’t do 3 o’clock because I have to pick up the kids from school”, was a phrase you would sometimes hear people say to explain why their program should be on at a particular time in the times of democratic program making.
Also interesting was to listen in to some oral history from volunteer presenters against a backdrop of a video/photograph. By that I mean, it was a video you were watching, but it was done as if it was a portrait photograph, so the people didn’t actually move (or maybe just a bit).
Linda Burney launches the Gadigal Information Service exhibition at Carriageworks in Sydney
The exhibition was opened by NSW Labor politician (Deputy Opposition Leader), Linda Burney who became a little tearful as she remembered her own time as a community radio volunteer, and how important radio was to that particular period of Indigenous activism in Australia during the 1980s and 1990s.
When my colleague Harriet, a journalist at the ABC, visited our house earlier in the week, we mentioned the leak from the nearby bitumen plant. Very quickly, she realised the significance of the story, did some investigations, organised some interviews, and had an article published on the ABC News website today, and a news report which appeared on the ABC 7.00 pm News in NSW tonight. The story has also made an impression on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram.
Harriet was one of two journalists who visited the house this week. As well as Harriet from the ABC, there was also Heath from the Sydney Morning Herald.
Although they are both based in Sydney, both have a North Coast connection.
Heath Gilmore from the Sydney Morning Herald grew up here, and his family still lives here. He is writing a major feature for the SMH about the impact of the flood both when it occurred and a few months later. He spoke to Jack and Sam about their experiences, and they really opened up, likely more than I’ve heard them speak about it previously.
Harriet and Matt filmed an interview with Jack.
When I introduced Harriet to the son of our neighbour, he was pleased to know she had a local connection, being from Grafton. “She’ll understand”, Geoff said, as he led us into his mum’s house which also has been damaged by the chemicals.
Visiting our next door neighbour. You can see the flood height in the two-story house, but look to the left and you’ll see some of the stains caused by chemical leakage.
After three months, media interest in the Lismore flood isn’t as strong as it was once. Rebuilding a town isn’t anywhere near as “exciting” as dramatic rescues from floodwater.
The local journos are doing an excellent job covering the story, and their reports are being seen and heard nationally. But it’s great to have this bit of additional national coverage from these two journalists.
For anyone who doesn’t know the area, I think there’s a tendency to think everything has returned to “normal”. A common attitude is that “Lismore floods, you just mop up and wait for the next one”. People from elsewhere ask me how things are here, expecting I’ll say “it’s fine”. Instead, I tell people it’s fucked.
A friend counted the open shops in our #Lismore inner CBD block today – 18 of the 130 Let that sink in- more than 3 months after the catastrophic floods. We need much more help from our governments #lismoreflood
— đ§Jenny Dowell OAM đ (@JennyRDowell) June 11, 2022
Tweet tonight from the former Mayor of Lismore.
There’s room for optimism, of course, but right now, it’s going to be long before things are “back to normal”.
My niece told me she had to summon up all her courage to tell me halfway through the year that my lower right leg had been amputated. I had been in an induced coma for several days and was still heavily sedated, so, in all honesty, I don’t remember the conversation or my immediate reaction.
Pretty quickly, I remembered my grandmother, with whom I grew up, had a diabetes-related amputation as well. I’ve also noted that in 2022, my family had nearly drowned in the Lismore flood. Only a few weeks earlier, I met some people in Cambodia who had amputations due to landmines.
Without the privilege that comes from living in a wealthy country with a great medical system and surrounded by a fantastic network of family and friends, I’ve tried to look on the bright side of what happened to me earlier this year. I’m incredibly grateful to be alive, and to have had all the wonderful support I’ve enjoyed. Many others would not have been so lucky.
As Elton John once sang, “I’m Still Standing”.
There have been a couple of days when I’ve been a little “down.” In both cases, it was due to fatigue more than a any kind of depression about becoming a “person with disability”.
On my first night home after a few months in the hospital, I also shed a few tears. Thankfully, a good friend was with me that night and provided me with great reassurance. Looking back on the situation now, I have to laugh. I was in my own bed, and a tap in the ensuite was dripping. Knowing to stop it, I would first need to get up and put on my prosthetic limb was all too much for me. “You’ve been so good throughout this. You’ve been the model patient. You need to stop worrying about how everyone will respond and just be in the moment,” I remember my friend saying.
At the end of 2023, the response and reaction of friends, family, and colleagues remain higher on my list of concerns than any negative feelings I’ve had myself. Sure, the change is associated with the classic “stages of grief” (denial, anger, acceptance, etc.), which a couple of people have said I’ve gone through “too quickly.” That is to assume a linear approach to the theory, whereas I know at any time I could lapse into a period of negativity.
But what’s the point? Millions of people around the world are in a far more desperate situation than I am, and besides, there is so much to be grateful for this year, including participation in Mardi Gras/World Pride a wonderful two-week vacation to Vietnam and Cambodia with two wonderful friends.
Group tour, visiting Angkor Wat
I also had some wonderful time with my family. They’ve come to visit me in Sydney, and I’ve been home to Lismore on a couple of occasions.
As 2023 comes to an end, it’s great being home with my family. After all they’ve been through since the flood almost two years ago, things are looking good as they approach 2024, and hopefully, moving into new accommodation. It will be tough for them in many ways, as they’ve lived in their house since 1968, but now they’re in their 70s and 80s, having somewhere new, modern, and with greater comforts will hopefully make their remaining years a little easier.
Crossing the Sydney Harbour Bridge with the incomparable Manda Hatter at Sydney “World Pride”
As the year comes to an end, I’m thinking about what 2024 has in store. Work has changed quite a bit. The approach to the area of ABC Radio I’ve been looking after changed quite dramatically while I was in the hospital. It was only when I returned part-time to work in November that it became apparent to me. So far, and I’m not 100% sure of what my job will be like in 2024. But in the grand scheme of things, I remain positive that I still have a job, a generous amount of personal (sick) leave up my sleeve, and colleagues who have been supportive with wishes, gifts, and understanding.
The greatest lesson I’ve learned in recent years, and which I’ve been trying to convince family and friends of, is the need to stop for a moment, don’t think too much about what might happen, accept it, and get on with your life. As I’ve lived through the experiences of 2023, I’ve been extremely conscious of the depressive impact of negativity. The whole “glass half full/empty” thing has been a recurrent theme for me this year. Chatting with people recently, I’ve heard too much about all the terrible things that MIGHT happen and not enough about the good things that COULD happen.
As the year comes to a close, my heartfelt message to both myself and to you is to savor the positive moments and express gratitude for the blessings surrounding us. While this may not be a groundbreaking revelation, it’s a sentiment that many individuals like us, who lead privileged lives, might not always do enough.
While having a chardy at the nearby Trinity Hotel on Monday night, a workmate of my friend Sue, offered a great insight into the geography of Sydney. We had been chatting about how difficult it sometimes is to navigate your way around Sydney compared with other Australian cities like Melbourne, Adelaide and Perth, which are laid out on a grid-system.
It was then, Sue’s workmate who has lived in those other cities, observed that long before the introduction of distributors, tunnels and motorways, most Sydney roads were built either on ridges or gullies. She also noted that Sydney generally inclined downwards from the Blue Mountains to Circular Quay. It was her experience that once you thought of Sydney in those terms, and adopted a “satellite view” of the place, you’re generally fine to navigate your way around.
It was then we discussed how people from Sydney often don’t know the names of streets and roads and usually navigate by other means. In particular, those born and raised here will often navigate by corner pubs, sports grounds, and so on. Sue’s workmate observed that in the Christian-based organisation they work for, it’s often churches that provide the means of navigation. “You turn left at St Matthews, and then right at St Andrews” etc…
Eastern Distributor
We didn’t have far to go for dinner on Monday night though, as Sue and I dined at Il Baretto, a terrific little restaurant on Bourke Street. As always, the food was excellent, accompanied by an Italian pinot grigio.
The surroundings were less than salubrious the following day at a nearby pub when we watched the Melbourne Cup. Only one of my friends managed to pick the winner this year, and I loved his methodology. As he works for a less-than-efficient state government organisation, he loved the irony of selecting “Efficient”. With a five-dollar each way bet, he ended up considerably richer by the end of the day.
Work has been especially busy at the moment. And so aside from the usual Wednesday night catch-up and last night’s birthday drinks, I’ve found myself sitting quietly at home most nights.
Although I’ve mostly been listening to music, I’ve also been watching some television, with a particular favourite being that terrific show hosted by John Clarke on ABC-TV about the development of the Australian accent. The program explained theorised the uniformity of the Australian accent (with some variation) derived from Sydney, and as European Australians moved outwards from Sydney during the 1800s, they took the accent with them. I love that stuff.
Maybe he could also do a program about the roads of Australia? Or maybe I should suggest that to my friend Sue’s workmate?
Who needs an Australian entry in Eurovision, when we might already have one?
There’s a lot of excitement today in Australia about our confirmed “wild card” entry in this year’s Eurovision Song Contest.
I actually seriously think much of Europe would vote for Australia out of “sympathy”/”admiration”/”a sense of fun”, and with the large number of expats in Europe (about 1-million), I genuinely think next year’s contest could be held at the Sydney Opera House.
But of course Australia already has an entry (of sorts), participating in Eurovision in the forthcoming fourth heat of Melodifestivalen with the band JTR. They’re up against a lot of competition, but you never know. And if they miss out, they could be the Australian entry. :) Well, the flights would be cheaper from Stockholm than Sydney.
The article below explains they lived in Australia from 2006, because that’s where their step-father comes from. Brissie, to be precise. But they moved back recently.
This item shows at least one of them has picked up an Australian accent, at least
