OLIVIA J. BENNETT


Hello! I’m an arts writer, researcher and critic based in Brisbane, Australia. 

I've reviewed and written about art, film, music, and digital culture in Australian and international publications. I’ve also played a pivotal role in the programming, digital production, and successful delivery of numerous projects within Australia’s film and music industry.

I'm fascinated by how global trends intertwine with personal stories, revealing the impact of cultural issues on our daily lives. In my work, I prefer to experiment with non-linear storytelling, multiple perspectives, and mixed media to capture the intricacy of modern cultural tensions.

I’ve been honoured to participate in Gertrude Contemporary’s Emerging Writers Program and the Melbourne International Film Festival’s Critics Campus.

I'm also a freelance copywriter, content writer, and strategist whose work is driven by principles of complexity and interconnectedness.

With five years of freelancing, three years in agency environments, and two years navigating Melbourne's strictest COVID-19 lockdowns, I've faced real tests of resilience and adaptability in my career. This experience has enriched my ability to develop copywriting, content, and strategy for various sectors, including tech, health, lifestyle, retail, design, construction, hospitality and (of course) the arts.

I completed a Bachelor of Art History and Curating at Monash University, majoring in Film Studies. For my BA Honours thesis in Screen and Cultural Studies at Melbourne University, I argued that the documentary films of Harvard University’s Sensory Ethnography Lab are hyperobjects. Applying Timothy Morton’s concept through poetics, I explored their capacity to provoke a transgressive experience of ecological thought and feeling.

On a personal note, I'm on track to pass the DELF B2 French exam in 2025, and I am currently working on launching new business ventures that will further leverage my expertise and passions.

Souhaitez-moi bonne chance!

SCRATCH 
& SNIFFERS


“I kind of like it when stuff goes wrong,” laughs Amy Taylor over Zoom, “like when something gets cancelled or plans change, because it’s exciting. Unpredictability is cool.”

The Amyl and the Sniffers frontwoman and her former housemates Dec Martens, Bryce Wilson and Fergus Romer never imagined their Melbourne punk project would turn into a fully-fledged career. In 2016, the band  recorded their first EP, Giddy Up (2016), in Balaclava within the span of 12 hours and quickly began playing at local dive bars. A second EP, Big Attraction (2017), and a self‐titled album later, their high‐octane sound and rowdy stage antics have seen them become a staple of the international touring circuit, front a Gucci campaign and win Best Rock Album at the 2019 ARIA Awards.

“When we’re playing overseas, people make a big deal about it, but in Melbourne, it’s like when your friend from down the street comes over – you hand them a can of Coke and tell them to sort themselves out,” Taylor laughs.

Now, back home to that low‐key life of Melbourne lockdown, the interruptions caused by the pandemic gave the four‐piece a much‐needed break from being “slingshot around the world playing shows every night”. 
But, as Taylor explains, the Sniffers took it as an opportunity to mature their sound, hone their craft and record their second album, Comfort to Me.

“I feel like we’re such a live band and spent so much time playing that when lockdown came we were able to spend more time on the writing process, whereas before that it was very much ‘Let’s write a song that we can play live so that we can play live more,’” she says.

This focus is notable in Taylor’s vocals, which have deepened and strengthened since the band’s earliest releases. She sounds more self‐assured than ever, singing of protecting her energy and finding power in her own body on Comfort to Me’s first single: “Guided by angels, but they’re not heavenly/They’re on my body and they guide me.”

Guitarist Dec Martens reflects that while they may not have had any expectations of the band when they made those rough, early recordings, Amyl and the Sniffers have since forged a path to collective self‐possession on the new album. “I feel like when the band started I had a really strong idea of who I was and what I liked, but now I feel like I have a shared identity with everyone in the band,” he says.

Taylor agrees, adding that this collective strength became especially apparent as the media around the group boxed them into a certain sound, politics and lifestyle. “It’s really fucking shaped me in a huge way. My tolerance for people’s judgement is sealed tight because we’ve had to go through the firing line,” she explains.

While unintentional, many of the new tracks on Comfort to Me speak to the experience and aftershock of COVID-19. On ‘Security’, Taylor sings of the struggle to find connections and romance in the wake of upended, anxious lives, pleading with a pub security guard to let her into a venue: “Security will you let me in your pub?/I’m not looking for trouble/I’m looking for love”.

The album is a deft document of the strength that can arise from dejection and the community you can find during life’s roughest moments. For the band, comfort isn’t necessarily avoiding difficult feelings or conversations but instead riding the wave of that discomfort and seeing where that energy takes you.

It’s there on the single ‘Capital’, which reels through the frustrations of Australia’s social injustices and the bizarre trivialities of life under capitalism. “It’s a big whirly pool of ‘fuck this shit,’” Taylor says. “When the bushfire season hit Australia at the end of 2019, there was a feeling of powerlessness and hopelessness towards the government.”

“It’s also about being a woman who is constantly sexualised, no matter what I wear or think or do, but the second that I decided I’m going to exploit my body to further my career, it turns back on me.”

Taylor explores these feelings further in ‘Knifey’, a bass‐heavy track at times reminiscent of Joy Division’s distinct melancholy. “[It’s about] how I personally feel as a female sometimes. Where my safety is compromised, and I have to be conscious of what I’m wearing when I’m out at night,” she confesses. “I don’t want to be tough; I don’t want to be this angry, but I have to be.”

Speaking with Taylor, she’s like the cool, older sister you always admired for their fearless confidence. “I want to be agile and wear pants and shirts, and walk everywhere and kick stuff,” she rambles, all while admitting that lockdown has “fucked up my whole sense of style because now I only wear trackie daks and no make‐up,” she laughs. “Before, I really valued and had fun expressing myself through clothes. But now I sorta feel like I’d rather express myself through my brain.”