Heavy water, fundamental in nuclear processes, is used to create a suitable environment for specific chemical reactions to occur. It is an environment, a situation, a site which allows for the formation of something new. Heavy Water is a site, not only in a physical sense (though, since you’re asking, geographically speaking, we base ourselves within one of Tributary Projects’ studio spaces - come by and say hello.), but also in a theoretical, conceptual, communal, practical and creative sense. Heavy Water is a site for the formation, discussion, exploration and dissemination of ideas and writing. Heavy Water nurtures a supporting environment so that new ideas might have a chance to form. Our publishing project explores publication as a medium and art-form in its own right. Publishing offers artists, thinkers, writers and readers a mode of sharing and accessing ideas beyond the restraints of time and place, which contains site- or time-specific works, discussions, performances etc. Heavy Water takes a multidisciplinary approach to publishing as discussion, art, record and performance to explore how we interact with the wider conversation of art and ideas.
Heavy Water is available at Tributary Projects or by contacting the gallery.
If you’d like to submit anything to us for consideration or get involved, drop us a line at firstname.lastname@example.org
Edited by Connor Drum and Ruby Rossiter contributions from Alex Hobba and Madalyn Trewin.
HEAVY WATER VOL. 1 - EDITORIAL NOTE
This is the first issue of HEAVY WATER, Tributary Projects’ bi-monthly journal of creative writing. This issue includes poetry written by Alexandra Hobba and Madalyn Trewin, two Canberran poets whose work has appeared regularly in Canberra mainly in the context of exhibitions.
In both Alexandra’s and Madalyn’s work, I find a clear echo of the particular kind of freedom we hope to offer in everything Tributary Projects does - that is, a sense of the possibility (the threat?) that comes from willing immersion in that which is strange. Of breathing in water, only to find that you can breathe water as if it were the cleanest air. You may find yourself repelled, uninterested or confused; as your breath runs out, you find the space you had lived in previously contracting around you, until the thin void that sits between your oxygen and the alien starts to tremble; your throat constricts; you hold tighter to the barely-sufficient air in your lungs; filled with dread, you breathe in; and that dread, that unwillingness to give away the vacuum separating you from the Real melts into a new calmness, a new sense of purpose, a new feeling of the fundamental immanence of the world.
We thank you for reading HEAVY WATER, and hope that you’ll be back for the next issue.
This volume was produced on Ngunnawal land, and we acknowledge that sovereignty was never ceded. Always was, always will be.