5 Questions with TENDER
Tender reveals the nuances and tender sides of the communities of Western Sydney through four individual but interconnected documentary films by multidisciplinary artists: Mohammad Awad (3awadi), Carielyn Tunion, Diamond Tat, and Sharon Mani.
Each of these films welcomes viewers into an intimate exchange of personal narratives, revealing the tenderness in our communities and experiences that is often overlooked by mainstream media. We want those who recognise themselves in these films to feel comfort, joy, and validation; and for those who don’t, to see us for who we are.
This work was produced by CuriousWorks, under the creative and technical direction of Elias Nohra. It was commissioned by Sydney Opera House and supported by the NSW Government through Create NSW.
TENDER is currently exhibiting at Fairfield City Museum & Gallery from
16th of November 2024 to the 25th of January 2025.
(Still from Mohamed Awad’s film Bikes)
No.1
Can each of you begin to tell us about the work you are showing for TENDER, as well as how it was conceived?
Mohamed Awad (MA): Bikes is an immersive experience that showcases queer love in Western Sydney, debunking the myth that queer and trans people need to leave their homes to find love, joy and intimacy. Initially I wanted to tell a story about resilience and how we survive what can be unsupportive or unloving spaces as queer kids in schools out west, however I knew that I wanted to shift the frame to focusing on joy and love—away from our pain and struggle.
Carielyn Tunion (CT): I went on a heartbreaking trip to Hong Kong to visit my father last year. Then I started a Masters in Literature when I got back, writing creative non-fiction about home (and ‘self’) as this ever-shifting, elusive, political thing. I ended up with something called i am a deepsea fisherwoman, but i do not catch fish—playing with Dr Leny Strobel’s idea that Filipinos must ‘fish’ for our stories amid a sea of bullshit colonial narratives. The essay was published in Mascara Literary Review but I felt there might be more to it, plus a lot of the stuff it explores is still ongoing.
I’ve experimented with videopoetry on/off since around 2016, and writing and videopoetry are places I go to process or make sense of things. When the chance to work with CuriousWorks came up, I wanted to continue exploring these ideas, as part of a process, and practice, of ‘cultural ritual’ and ‘radical nostalgia’. Thinking about rituals as cultural practices changed by colonisation, imperialism and globalisation, I realised that my family’s disparate, at-times conflicting threads can come together like a form of syncretic spirituality.
Fisherwoman came about as a way of processing these ideas about my own life, family and ancestries. But I think there are themes and experiences that other people can relate to as well. I hope people will have a moment of oh, I felt that—or reflection about their own families, histories or cultures. I think of Fisherwoman as an ode to my family, as well as the shifting connections to lost, distant or fractured ‘homes’ and selves. Like Dr Bidisha Banerjee says, we can celebrate the fractures, rather than trying to ‘cure’ them.
Diamond Tat (DT): Marrow is a cinematic exploration of womanhood, capturing both its quiet strength and profound gentleness. The film navigates the emotional landscape of uprooting and rebuilding, balancing the past and present—which not only is inspired by my own experience of immigrating to Australia with my mother, but it is also a beautiful common thread of many Western Sydney’s communities.
In its early stages, Marrow was conceived by contexualising the nuanced complexity and quiet integrity of womanhood, especially the women in first-generation immigrant households, and how it is usually idealised through notions of self-sacrifice and martyrdom, which isn’t entirely untrue, however, through a less westernised and somewhat hyper-individualistic lens, there lies a quiet volatility and a powerful lasting tenderness, that constitute a deep sense of a personal integrity, a silent peace and a private reconciliation.
Sharon Mani (SM): At The Heart Of It is a short documentary speaking to people from Western Sydney on their favourite place in the area and their memories tied to it. Honestly, it sprung from a really simple place: whenever I walked the streets of my hometown Liverpool, all I could see were the memories weaved with joy and I knew very few people saw that when they walked through here. Where people feel intimidated by guarded dogs behind fences or graffiti on the walls, I’m instead reminded of my friends giggling about our crushes as we walked home from school together or the joy I felt when my mum bought burek from the local bakery. I just wanted people to know there was sweetness in this area.
No.2
In the write-up for TENDER, it is stated that you “want those who recognise themselves in these films to feel comfort, joy, and validation; and for those who don’t, to see us for who we are”. How do you think you attempt to do this through your work?
MA: Being queer out west can be an isolative experience, this story was conceived from a place of wanting to show any lonely queer kids that our love is possible, fruitful and boundless. While I always want to tell a story of joy, I always want to be honest and realistic about love too. That’s why the film ends with the song ‘Bikes’, telling a story of heartbreak alongside the showcase of love. Showing that I know queer love is possible out west because I’ve experienced heartbreak—and what a privilege it is to be heartbroken in Western Sydney.
CT: We landed on the name TENDER after a little group chat because, at some point during our first few meetings, we had all talked about tenderness as something we wanted to have in our work. Fisherwoman attempts to explore tenderness as part of this ‘radical nostalgia’ idea that taps into romanticism, with intention. I think of it as a critical approach to the cultural nostalgia experienced specifically by diaspora communities. Softness as a critical space for creativity and change.
What I loved is there are all these shades and shadows of tenderness, from four different people and perspectives. Highlighting that tenderness has many expressions and faces, and they all have something complex to say. I think TENDER offers people space to reflect on the ways we all have to try and reconcile disparate parts of ourselves, but also affirm it’s okay to be baby. It’s okay to be sad and feel heartache and all the feelings. And knowing this type of grounded, informed, connected softness is also what allows us to experience fortitude and strength.
DT: With Marrow, I hope that the audience could find a few folds to connect with, one being the presence of a woman of colour on screen exploring a private yet universal story of immigration and human conditions, as well as a group of diverse, predominantly female filmmakers from immigrant backgrounds being the driving force behind the scene. Secondly, and hopefully, Marrow invites a moment of reflection on the resilience and the enduring power of sacrifice, strength, integrity and gentleness of mothers and mother figures in our lives, which I believe either by blood or by choice, we all have at least one. Thirdly, for the women that Marrow celebrates—women of colour, immigrants, poor women, who perhaps in many cases are still one of the most invisible and unseen groups—I hope they can feel seen and see how much they influence our generational and collective identities.
SM: To be honest, I aimed to do it in a fairly literal fashion. I wanted people from the area to be able to speak for themselves and to be heard. If you’re from Western Sydney you’ll recognise the locations and the people, hopefully that evokes a sense of being seen. However, if you’re not from here, you’ll be actually listening to the people who are. I know so many people from Sydney who have never gone past the inner west, let alone visit Blacktown. It’s for them in particular; I just wanted a piece that spoke frankly and through that directness I hope people can expand their perceptions.
No.3
In the last few years, there’s been an increasing spotlight on Western Sydney artists in the attempt to debunk mainstream ideas about the area, most of which are either negative or misconstrued, or serve to fetishise or sensationalise it. What do you think your work does to further and/or engage in this conversation?
MA: Bikes sets out to romanticise our experiences, while still being truthful about the experiences around being queer out west. The first half of the film allows you to be a fly on the wall while all our queer couples are on dates, immersing you in the joy, laughter and truth of our lives. It really focuses on humanising us as people without begging for humanity. The second half is designed to make you cry, with the song having a dreamlike RnB sound that’s shifting between the fantasy and truth of heartbreak and ultimately deciding to end on a sombre note of unrequited love. I believe all these labels and myths about Western Sydney only restricts us as artists; frankly I’m tired of caring how we’re perceived. Like me, this work just wants to exist.
CT: Unlike Sharon and Mohammad, I actually moved to Western Sydney as an adult, so my connections with the area and the relationship I have with it are different. Here, I feel like I’m part of the community beyond the bubble of people I know in the area. I’ve felt way less Othered here, less scrutinised or ostracised (other than my own sadgal blues lol)—and more culturally understood and engaged than anywhere else I’ve lived in ‘Australia’.
Fisherwoman doesn’t directly depict Western Sydney, but it’s a glimpse into the stories that live and breathe here, varied and complex and full of different types of strength and tenderness. We know that ignorant misconceptions of racialised people and communities are part of a bigger shit fight, and all of us in TENDER were very aware of that. For me, this work isn’t for those people; it’s an offering for our communities, families, friends, for us. The perspective has already shifted. In the context of TENDER, I hope Fisherwoman can offer a moment of solace or reflection on diaspora and homesickness and complicated cultural identities for those who experience it.
DT: While we are indeed proudly celebrating our communities here in Western Sydney, I have always contextualised Marrow as an artwork that comes from a Western Sydney artist, instead of it being simply a piece of art about Western Sydney.
Personally, I am a little bit of an optimistic pessimist and I believe that as long as we could open ourselves to see the other person as a multi-dimensional human being, then we have a real shot at a meaningful understanding that goes beyond dogmatic and dichotomous beliefs and assumptions. Lastly, while this is a complex and ongoing discourse, at its core it’s about showing up as who we are through our art practice. Even just through something as small as TENDER, my fellow artists Mohammed, Sharon, Carielyn and I are already four very different colours, but as we take up space as genuinely as we can collectively, perhaps we have already presented the wider public with more nuanced palette about Western Sydney.
SM: The work tries to challenge that idea by extending a direct invitation to people to visit the area and see it for themselves. If Western Sydney is just an ‘idea’ to you, just some place in the back of your mind that you’ve stereotyped, then get on the train or get in your car and drive down the Hume Hwy and come down this way to actually meet the people from here. Don’t let Western Sydney just be a hypothetical idea to you, something you’ve actually experienced, have it be a memory, That’s what At the Heart of It is aiming to do, at the least.
No.4
While this may be difficult to understand for people who only consume mainstream news media narratives about Western Sydney, it’s a known fact for many who understand the area’s lived realities that it reflects so-called Australia’s glaring class inequalities as well. Do you think your work tries to reflect this too? If so, how?
MA: I don’t think Bikes engages with the conversation of class directly. However it does provide a glimpse into how we act, dress and engage with each other in love, which definitely highlights how we live differently compared to the rest of so-called Australia.
CT: Fisherwoman is about the ways my parents and I navigate the waters of distant families and languages, but it also considers the colonial imperialist capitalist forces that shape these migrant (hi)stories. The so-called Philippines’ largest export is the outsourcing and exploitation of its own human labour, the result of over 300 years of colonial and imperialist meddling in the archipelago. Hong Kong, having been a political liminal space wheedled out of local agency since British colonisation there, continues to experience widening class inequity.
In an ‘Australian’ context, I’m one of many local creatives working several jobs then scraping the day for spare juice or hours for my creative practice. I come from a low-socioeconomic single-parent immigrant background, but I went to a private primary school; I’m employed and I’m doing a Masters degree at university. Despite this, I still experience ‘financial strain’, all those horrible gross capitalist blues, and I’m still one of the luckier ones.
Western Sydney is such a prime example of how class and race intersect in this country, and the fears it represents in mainstream ‘Australian’ narratives. But like a lot of art, music and writing coming from the area, TENDER makes an offering to complicate or subvert those stale, boring narratives. I think TENDER does it from places of softness, devotion, vulnerability and ultimately, love. Living here, I’ve connected with some amazing people and creatives, making work and art despite long-term discrimination and disadvantage directed towards and experienced in the area. The communities of creative practice here are doing so much, despite or maybe partly because of being structurally overlooked. The local arts and cultural scene is so vibrant and engaged because it’s had to be more agile than that, and it’s rooted in strong community-led ecosystems and relationships. Fisherwoman was shaped in ways by all these realities.
DT: Western Sydney has always been creating arts and birthing artists. We are not the first, the only or the last in any capacity with TENDER. However, while art is a part of living, or it should be, because it nurtures our souls, the way that water and food are sustenance to our physical bodies, it is not particularly feasible nor it is easy to receive training/education and work in the arts coming from low socioeconomic neighbourhoods. Especially with the creative industries, most of the time, it requires quite a fair bit of social capital and other privileges that are more accessible for the upper-middle class, rendering it more difficult for artists from Western Sydney, for example, to have the right support and a wider platform to create and sustain their practice.
I think every artwork naturally exists within the contexts of its time, be it social, cultural or political, and Marrow is no exception. The way that I see this loop between art and its contexts is a kind of constant feedback loop of values—values that are embodied, values that are reflected and values that are inspired by. These values could manifest in the narratives, the mediums, and/or they could also be the very fabric of how the artwork is conceived and published.
In many ways, the likelihood of TENDER and Marrow materialising and having an opportunity to showcase at a venue like the Sydney Opera House in and of itself is quite an interesting case in point. Hopefully, through organisations like CuriousWorks and projects like TENDER, there will be more visibility of a variety of arts and artists coming out of Western Sydney to challenge the idea that either there isn’t a creative community here, or our arts can only be received if it speaks to the limited expectations and preconceived notions of what the area is about by the mainstream media.
SM: Look, sure, one of the subjects [in my film], Bhima, speaks specifically to this idea of ‘the latte line’, which is a similar idea to the Red Rooster line: it’s this idea where you can delineate where the money is in Sydney and where it’s not by seeing where the Red Roosters are in Sydney and it’s a eerily dead-on map for the class inequality in Sydney. Our subjects speak to it because our class status inevitably shapes our upbringing, however what my work and I think TENDER as whole is trying to stress is that this isn’t the only element of our story. There is a universe of joy and passion brimming in Western Sydney and I invite the audience to discover that as well.
No.5
What did it look like for each of you to produce the work, from conception to final product?
MA: It involved developing the visuals for Bikes alongside the poetry and music, working on the song ‘Bikes’ for months with co-producer Carla Dobbie and finding the right sound to evoke the feeling of fantasy and romance. The pulsing synths reinforce the overwhelming excitement of being in love, with a light electric guitar gliding on the beat and lulling the listener into the lie of the hopeless romanticism of the song. The song is constantly avoiding the grounded piano which hooks you back into the more somber reflections of the story, ultimately losing out to the sad reality of the heartbreak by the end of the song.
That emotional rollercoaster informed the visual story we would tell as well, with every scene acting as a one-shot which acts as an extended visual metaphor of the themes of the story. The rope gummy makeout shot playing on the tension of the story, the bathroom sequence telling a story of infidelity and the twirling dervish shot showing the need for salvation from the toxic dynamic of the relationship. Each shot acts as its own story in three acts that you can watch individually and glean so much from—all serving a larger story of the relationship that comes together to create a chaotic collage that you can watch over and over again and taking a new angle and perspective every time.
CT: I started working on a general structure first, three cantos with distinct but linked ideas and themes. Then I started working with a cinematographer, Justine Da Jose, and a production designer, Genesis Mansilongan—two incredibly talented Filipino creatives with beautiful, deeply culturally informed conceptual and artistic visions.
We started shooting at 5AM at Balmoral Beach on a freezing morning in May, supported by Elias Norah, TENDER’s Creative & Technical Director. The CuriousWorks team, also creatives, led by Kiriaki Zakinthinos, were vital to this. Samantha Barahona, beautiful admin mama extraordinaire; Miranda Aguilar, the fierce, tender heart; and soft siren queen; Jenny Trinh / Wytchings who contributed a gorgeous moody soundscape for Fisherwoman. They were equal parts guidance, patience and cared about getting shit done. In the end, the process of making this work was transformative for me and my creative practice. I got to experiment with the limits of my videopoetry (Nine screens omg thank you Elias for dealing with that) and I got to work with the most beautiful angels.
Making art or writing always comes with a level of hypocrisy— I think, for me anyway. In this case, it was my first time working as an artist with a producing organisation (and the resources and support that come with). I was excited about the experience, but I was also emotionally, mentally and spiritually raw in the thick of experiencing some of the things I was exploring in the work. I was also juggling ideas around vulnerability, positioning and authorship; should I explore such a personal topic? Did I have the right to talk about my parents’ stories, or depict my grandparents in the space? What about the space itself? Who was this for, and who would ‘see’ it? Should I be taking up this space?
When we found out the Opera House were interested in screening the works, it was after Chris Minns had the sails lit white and blue. We had to reckon with what it means to be making art during the genocidal sacking of Palestine. We were attending rallies, joining grassroots efforts, engaging BDS and advocacy campaigns, but how to reconcile all this?
At opening night, we got to say a few words. This was the last bit I said:
As Nina Simone said, it’s the artist’s duty to reflect the times. We offer these nuances and hope they make people smile or feel seen, or feel something—and in doing so, write ourselves and our shared stories in our own words, against colonial capitalist imperialist narratives.
From our different paths and beginnings, we’re here together—in a time where global solidarity is crucial. In the words of Palestinian revolutionary Leila Khaled, as long as the imperialists globalise their system, we globalise our struggle. Let every thing we do be a drop in the ocean for our collective liberation.
DT: It is certainly a long journey with CuriousWorks and the team starting around a year ago. The conceptualisation process for Marrow spanned many months with me researching ideas, collecting references and inspirations from visual arts, film and music. Once some of the hero visual language and imagery had solidified, as a group, we had a few of these workshops, led by Elias Nohra and the CuriousWorks producing team, Samantha Barahona and Miranda Aguilar, and all four artists would give feedback and provide support to each piece. Then we would then go back into our caves to continue building on our piece.
With Marrow, many things were unknown but I had a pretty clear idea of the look and feel of the piece, so to control certain aspects of the final colour grade, I started working with my DIT, Sebastian Reategui, before principle shooting to create the LUTS so I could monitor these colour values in camera on the shoot.
It was also during this pre-production period when I was first introduced to Vivian Tran, who is the incredible movement artist that features in Marrow. As my background is in visual art and cinematography, having the knowledge and expertise of a trained dancer like Vivian to shape the choreography was an invaluable asset. She has helped translate and incorporate my visual language and narrative ideas into crafted body movement and dance, which is entirely a language in and of itself.
By the time we got to principle production, each of us has a small production team to shoot/excecute our concepts. For Marrow it was initially a two day shoot, but it ended up being a one day shoot, which was not a small feat for the whole team. Some of Marrow’s key narrative visuals are a body of water and a burning chair, and they were their own challenge to construct and execute. For example, it was quite a task to construct a set of ‘a shallow pool’ of roughly 4mx4m, built by Antony Youssef in Mothership Studio. For dressing the chairs, assistant director Matilda Dickinson tested and replicated three copies of the chair with me to make sure we had back-ups. Finally to set it on fire in the studio on the day, making sure it was safe, we had a pyro technician, Amanda Le, with us. Just to name a few incredible crews that helped bring Marrow alive.
Following production, we then entered the post-production phase, and I cannot thank editor Reggie Azwar enough for all the hours and craft putting into realising the story with me, and discovering ways to seamlessly bring the multi-channel aspects of the immersive projection space of the Sydney Opera House into the piece, which was an entirely new challenge for all of us. Here, I also can’t not mention the brilliant Elias Norah for being our fearless technical director for figuring out all the maths and nerdiest tech specs to conform Marrow into its final form and format, along with the production team at the Sydney Opera House.
Lastly, Marrow would lose half of its soul without its soundscape and music, which were crafted beautifully by Kat Azwar. Kat, Reggie and I worked in tandem throughout post-production to ensure that picture and sound stayed connected in both technical and narrative sense. I have always find it hard to describe specific sounds and sonic elements, so I tried to communicate with Kat through references of songs and articulations of certain emotions that I felt Marrow needed at that moment, then she would elevate and translate my thoughts and feelings into the language of music. The entire post-production proccess for Marrow was a little bit of a beautiful feedback loop between the three of us. It was over three months and not without challenges but very rewarding.
SM: It was a lot of back and forth with my amazing team through emails and Zoom calls; their patience with me was titanic. I was in Melbourne or traveling at various stages through production and post which was hectic and I would not recommend it, but lesson learnt! The shoot itself was really sweet—it was a small group, with a few of us having gone to the same high school and had grown up in the area so it just felt like a little high school reunion. It was really special to make a project about home with people who knew how important that was.
Mohamed Awad a.k.a. 3awadi
Carielyn Tunion
Diamond Tat
Sharon Mani
Presented in a unique immersive projection environment, Tender is a multi-channel film work from CuriousWorks. Based in Fairfield, in the heart of South West Sydney, CuriousWorks exists at the intersection of contemporary multi-arts practice, and community arts and cultural development.
Tender reveals the nuances and tender sides of the communities of Western Sydney through four individual but interconnected documentary films by multidisciplinary artists Mohammad Awad (3awadi), Carielyn Tunion, Diamond Tat, and Sharon Mani.
More info here. The four films are available to stream online until September 2025.