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!
KNOCKING
ON
HEAVEN’S
DUST BOWL
- Moktar
The Southern Shire export was nervous about playing.
“I feel like if you haven’t been to IV, you already hear so much about it,” he explains. “It’s the cool festival. Tickets sell out quickly because it’s an intimate space, and the one-stage makes every artist a highlight.”
The memology around the event has undoubtedly
type-cast a specific community, often the trappings of Melbourne’s inner-north elite. Regardless, a strong appreciation of transgressive music unites IV’s punters. “Many people in Melbourne DJ, so they’re aware of how things should sound. It enhances the experience but makes it much more daunting to play.”
The festival has always supported Australia’s underground music scene, a thread connecting many in the city and giving the event this added sense of closeness. “I realised that people will always support you no matter what, and that’s why IV is so special”, he muses. During Moktar’s set, the crowd’s attention to detail allied unusual troops.
Mixing club and techno with his signature Arabic instrumentals, Moktar’s most-loved track, ‘Silk’ saw the crowd collide with competing energies. It was clear who had listened to his music and who was experiencing it for the first time. This tension inspired a movement filled with awe. A reverie caught in a time when the entire event was considered irresponsible, before being uplifted by the nostalgia of ‘Silk’s melodic outro, a sound like 808 State’s abstract optimism and Burial’s transient melancholy.
During Four Tet’s remix of Bicep’s ‘Opal’, an unknown object was flung on stage. A drink was poured, and a swift reaction caused the music to cut out. This drew an impassioned “boooo” from a bunch of bloaters behind me, along with vape-flavoured criticisms of what should and shouldn’t happen when playing a festival.
Nonetheless, the crowd’s seamless transition into the music was a testament to Moktar’s set once it came back on. “Usually, this stuff really bothers me, but it didn’t,” he confessed. “People were relieved when the music was back, so they went twice as hard.”
Moktar’s closing track wrapped the set with sentimentality. I asked why he chose DJ Spanish Fly’s ‘Cement Shoes’, a Memphis-rap classic that felt unexpected, but we both shared an appreciation for. The week he learned that he was playing IV, Moktar found Fly’s 1994 A.B.C.D.E album at Fitzroy’s Skydiver Records (part-owned by one half of Otologic who also played the festival) and promised the person working that he would play it in his set.
I sensed earnestness in his voice. “I think it’s important as a DJ just to share your music,” he clarified. Sharing is perhaps the best word to describe the IV experience. Egos were growing weak under the elements, and moments of vulnerability turned into hazy memories held close. “I ended up running into the guy who sold me the record and had a nice time on Sunday.” Moktar smiled and gestured for a hug as he finished, “We were both wearing our suits and discussing the track. It was a connecting moment.”
I don’t know of any other Australian festival with an unadvertised, opt-in dress code on its last day. An Acclaim article airs ‘Suit Sunday’ as a tax loophole, which the directors found only works on the festival’s Easter weekend. If more than 30% of punters wore “church-appropriate clothing”, the festival would qualify as a tax-free religious gathering.
The last day was a congregation, collectively shouldering the shame of the previous 48 hours’ exploits. The suits themselves some Holy Grail embattlement (“It’s just a flesh wound”) against the fuckery that has been navigating ten years of Liberal-powered, strait-laced living. “It’s such a strange time,” ends Moktar. “There is a driving force behind this type of music from Melbourne’s creative community. We’re all just trying our best to keep everyone together.”