Woodford Folk Festival: Gazing Back
Chloe Mayne reflects on the turning of the new year, from the rolling hills of Woodfordia…
The chorus of a ten-strong Balkan brass band thunders jovially from the stage; sunglasses, waistcoats and horns of all sizes jostle beneath the lights as celebratory fireworks begin to erupt on a screen behind. The crowd is leaping about with kicks and hoots, gathering speed, hearty claps crescendoing as the clock creeps toward midnight…
Where am I? I doubt it could be anywhere else but Woodford Folk Festival, and this is the Boban Markovic Orkestar ushering in the new decade with a wild and merry soundtrack. I’d not heard of them before until this moment and, while the tendency is to carefully construct the perfect midnight setting as one year melts to another, from setting to soundtrack, at Woodford I’ve learned that serendipity is the greatest guide.
For those you joined us on the road trip north, you’ll know that we dove into the Woodford experience with fresh eyes, eager to explore one of Australia’s biggest, and longest, summer festivities. Spanning the width of a week, with a breadth of over one hundred thousand visitors, the festival has cultivated a reputation for being gentle, bright and community-minded; in harmony with, rather than in spite of, its size.
One trait which separates the Woodford Folk Festival from others of its scope is that it’s mothered by its very own organisation, Woodfordia Inc. The non-profit group are the current caretakers of the 500-acre property on which the festival blooms (the traditional custodians of which are the Jinibara people), planting on and revitalising it through community events. Their latest project is the creation of Lake Gkula, the largest conservation and recreation lake of its kind in the country – which meant that a week of blessed blue skies and sunshine was complemented by glorious freshwater swims!
Musically and sensorially, Woodford is a banquet of variety – countless performance spaces tuck into winding streets, making the site feel like its own sprawling oasis (indeed, at its full capacity the festival is 67th largest town in Australia!). Rather than attempting any kind of timetable, it’s better to trust the internal compass and humbly observe where it takes you.
It could draw you toward the mesmerising Sufi chants of Farhan Shah and Brothers Qawwali, perhaps, otherwise known as the Pavarotti of Pakistan – the audience moving rhythmically as drums roll and chorus soars, a dancer in layers of green spinning ever-faster, her skirt floating as though preparing to levitate, smile bright and eyes wide toward the horizon…
You may be magnetised toward a dramatic Japanese butoh performance (an ominous and compelling style of dance theatre), a celebration of classical Indian ragas with Sunita Tikare and Sangeet Mishra, or a showcase of local hip-hop heavyweights such as The Herd over at the expansive natural amphitheatre.
As darkness descends, the site breathes into another persona; a shimmering showground where the edges of things tend to grow woozy, where mythical creatures roam the streets and secret places avail themselves to the curious wanderer. Down by the pond the island transforms into Eyeland, a fishy giant-puppet spectacular which rides the borders of the surreal and squeezes the imagination. Giant sea worms writhe and a psychedelic-aquatic detective tale unravels, where we are reminded of an apocalypse slowly taking seed beneath the ocean’s surface…
Circus carnivals take flight beneath the big tops, and you might stroll the dimly lit paths of The Sacred Labyrinth with someone you love. Perhaps you’ll frock up and attend Prom Night, stepping primly into the Small Hall and savouring an opportunity to be as you are, twirling and stomping on the floorboards, or you could bask in the quiet embrace of a grassy hill, watching galaxies pass both above and below.
If the senses and heart are already ignited, there is plenty of nourishment for the intellect also. From politics to popular science, to the importance of getting our hands dirty (courtesy of the Wildlings Forest School, who ran immersive sessions for children throughout the week), there was an abundance of opportunity to fill up on ideas; meaningful ways to keep the beauty and sustenance of community alive beyond the festival site.
And then on the morning of the new year, in the most wee of hours, you may be drawn to the top of the hill – following a trail of lanterns to what feels like the festival altar. A long-standing Woodford tradition, it’s here that at the break of sunrise the Monks of Tibet welcome the turning with a rumbling ceremony of drums and chanting. Haze hovers over the pyramid peaks of the Glasshouse Mountains as light begins to seep and flicker in; hundreds of bodies are curled up across the grass, blankets diligently carried to the summit, some faces fresh from sleep while others begin to nod. As the sun emerges and applause echoes through the valley, it’s a passing of sorts… a gentle deliverance into the arms of a decade, and the steady drums remind us that our dreams are steeped in possibility.
It’s true, all kinds of enchantment are possible when we are nourished and well – and Woodford Folk Festival cultivates a space which is wonderfully rich. A grateful bon voyage from us, and a joyful new year to you!
Words by Chloe Mayne. Photos by Peter Callender.
