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The Love Song Richard Wagner's The Valkyrie

The Love Song of Richard Wagner’s The Valkyrie.

Good evening and welcome to this chat about this evening’s program. My name is Andrys Onsman and I am an adjunct at the Sir Zelman Cowen School of Music at Monash University. Before I begin, I must firstly acknowledge the traditional custodians of the land where we are gathered and marvel at the fact that people have been coming to this very spot for thousands of years to sing and dance... read more


On Christian Names

I was born a Frisian – a statement that usually causes snorts, sniggers and hilarious comments about cows. I have no idea how the cows feel about the jokes but I’m over it. It’s not that I can’t take a joke; it’s just that they’re not funny. But of course, it’s not really about cows. Jokes about minorities all over the world, the Irish, the Newfies, the Bretons, Tasmanians, New Zealanders, are... read more

Humility in translation.

After a year teaching in China, one of my colleagues gave me two beautiful scrolls. One was a calligraphy alphabet she had drawn herself on gold-coloured paper and the other was a scroll of a famous poem, hand made by her calligraphy teacher at art school. At more than a meter and a half in length, it is a gorgeous work. At the top are the two characters for dragon, underneath which the poem is written in fast flowing swirls... read more


Tasmania's Stolen Generation

I wrote this essay quite a few years ago but it still seems relevant today. Few people know that Tasmanian Aboriginal people were part of the “Stolen Generations”, forcibly removed from the Bass Strait islands and placed with white families in the cities. I first met Gus ages ago and his story emerged over time. We’re still friends despite his choice of AFL team to support.

 

Family Matters.

Garry Maynard and his wife are parents to two fine young boys, growing up... read more


On Euthanasia: a family guide.

Just before Christmas in 2008, my brother Edzer Onsman, known as Eddie, chose to be euthanased because his body was so racked with pain that he had to drink liquid morphine just to get through the day. He was no longer in any condition to live and there was no hope that the tumours growing in his brain could be removed. When he died, there were no angels crowding around the sterile bed on the third floor of the hospice... read more