by Simon Sellars

‘An Introduction to Subterrain’ was originally published in Subterrain magazine #1, December 2005.

In modern welfare work, it’s rapidly becoming clear that ‘homeless and marginalised’ people need more than simply food and housing. Everyone wants to find meaning in their lives, to find freedom of speech – to find a voice. Artistic expression can give the sense that a person’s ideas and viewpoints count for something, and that’s how we’ve designed Subterrain, a not-for-profit publication for the benefit of the clients at Ozanam Community Centre. OCC is a ‘drop-in’ establishment that provides support for homeless and marginalised people, and while it’s not the case that all of the contributors in these pages are currently using the Centre’s services, it’s certainly true that most have passed through at some stage.

In 2004, one of the Centre’s most requested programs was for some kind of writing group. Some clients had never written but wanted to, while others were already outstanding writers but just needed a push and a shove to get the juices flowing again. Often, though, people couldn’t commit to regular meetings; the hassles and hardships of life got in the way or sometimes they simply felt shy about writing, or that their experiences were just too powerful to articulate for the moment. So we decided to work one on one: if people didn’t feel like writing, we’d start the tape rolling and just talk. We’d transcribe the tape, edit it, pass it back to the subject for additions and corrections, and a piece would sometimes evolve like that.

In all cases, I was deeply moved by the honesty and bravery of all concerned – but also shocked, awed, disturbed, amused. I had a bike accident and broke my nose and front tooth during the project and when I tried to elicit sympathy from one of my interviewees, he laughed in my face and squished his nose under his thumb like it was a Nerf ball, explaining that he had no cartilage because he’d broken his nose so many times in prison fights he’d lost count. I stopped whingeing after that.

What’s it all about then? Given the Centre’s charter, you could say Subterrain is about the life experiences of homeless people, but that’s not entirely accurate: many of the contributors are in some kind of housing now, whether it’s transitional, in a rooming house, or in independent lodgings. Still, the fact remains that all have experienced homelessness in some form (I don’t think many would consider prison to be ‘home’, in the traditional sense).

So, in many ways the magazine is about what happens next. It’s about family, community, addiction, incarceration, isolation, crime, drugs, punishment, illness, violence, technology, surveillance, mental health, sport, food, willpower, triumph, redemption, having a laugh, self-respect… It’s about ‘life’ and its peaks and troughs and that’s terribly corny but I can’t for the life of me think of another way to describe it.

Subterrain is also about the therapeutic power of writing. The magazine’s title evokes the ‘Underworld’, but that’s a bit of licence: this isn’t Melbourne Magazine you’re reading. It’s something buried deep down, out of sight and not by choice. I don’t reckon any of the people who worked on this publication have any clear ideas of how to solve the problem of homelessness, or of drug addiction, or of rising crime.

We do believe in the power of the word, though, and what we now know through experience is that people who have suffered extreme hardship in their lives often feel a compulsion to record their life story, because writers can control their destiny by shaping and moulding negative memories into positive future action through constant revision and editing of the written word. Ozanam clients have told me that writing (or relaying their story) has given them self-esteem and confidence, that it’s given them a voice and the means and the impetus to try and change their life. What more can you ask for, really?

As the project went on I decided to interview other people who have worked in similar areas and who hold similar views. The project subsequently widened to become not just a showcase for the writings and stories of homeless people, but a social snapshot of the homelessness problem as it currently stands. I felt it was important to provide a broader context, to go beyond the ‘art as therapy’ mandate. For example, I came into contact with people who believe in the therapeutic power of sport and recreation in the same way that others believe in the influence of the arts – because sometimes you just need to feel primitive power surging through your body once again, especially when it’s been bruised and battered for so long.

Another theme emerged; a belief that funding for creative and recreational projects needs to be ongoing. For me, it’s not enough to sponsor a one-off program. Many of the people who participate in arts and recreational projects simply don’t have ‘normal’ lives to go back to once it’s all over. You get a glimpse of a different way, but then it’s snatched out of your reach. Maybe depression and deflation then sets in, because there’s seemingly no way to reach that high again – and that goes for the teachers and mentors, too, not just the participants.

Ozanam Community Centre has received City of Melbourne arts funding for various projects over the last few years, and we’ve just heard that Subterrain will be funded for a second edition in 2006. I’d like to therefore take this opportunity to express my absolute gratitude to the City of Melbourne and to everyone involved with their Community Arts Program for giving us a wonderful opportunity to create an ongoing, alternative media. This is an extremely forward-thinking view because some organisations, although undeniably well meaning, take the view that helping the homeless means knitting them a beanie in winter.

On the opposite, extreme end of the scale, a vocal proportion of the general public think that the homeless problem is beneath contempt. Of course, you can’t help everyone. Some people don’t want to be helped. Some people choose the ‘life’ rather than the life choosing them. But that doesn’t mean you take leave of your senses and tar everyone with the same brush.

Let me leave you with a challenge: Google the phrase ‘Bumfights’, and after reading what you’ve found, let me know if you think our way is a better way.

I know what I think is the answer.