- Title:
- WHO CARES?
- Author:
- Kori Miles and Anador Walsh
- Date:
- 23.10.25
Kori Miles, Who Cares? [Iteration no. 3], 2024, performance documentation, Performance Review presents Performing Care, 2025. Photos: Machiko Abe. Courtesy of the artist and Performance Review.
Some words of context
Anador Walsh (AW): I met Kori Miles in 2021 when I was developing the inaugural Contact High summer performance program with Gertrude. From our first conversation, it was apparent that for Kori, there is no distinction between process and practice. A queer artist with Māori ancestry, working across sculpture, installation and performance, Kori’s work centres First Nations ways of being, knowing and doing and proposes practical frameworks for decolonising the spaces they work in. For Contact High 2022 for example, at Kori’s request, we worked together on cultural safety protocols that could be temporarily enacted in support of Kori’s project.
Such is Kori’s way of working — they do not retrofit their practice when bringing it and its cultural specificities into a space, they ask instead how that space might reorientate or change, in order to best support their practice. It is a conscious praxis that asks institutions to move beyond proclamations of ‘care,’ ‘best practice’ and ‘cultural safety,’ into action. It is this way of working that motivated me to bring Kori onto Performance Review’s Accountability Committee, a collection of cross industry and lived-experience folks to whom I, as Performance Review’s Director, am accountable and whom I consult with on Performance Review’s strategic direction, value-alignment and significant decisions. I value Kori’s input and their ability to, through conversation and process, challenge others in our industry to be and do better in a more than just symbolic way. I personally am a better curator, for my friendship and ongoing dialogue with Kori.
So when I was asked to curate the LIVE program for Melbourne Art Fair 2024, inviting Kori into this project was a no brainer. Particularly as the overarching curatorial framework I was working with, was grounded in trying to move beyond performative invocations of care into structural processes for enacting it. The project’s title was Performing Care and it stemmed from my having worked with Melbourne Art Fair in various capacities since 2018 and having observed the shortfalls of presenting performance in a fair context — specifically the exploitation of performance as a mode of entertainment, rather than valuing it as a critical medium.
The project was interested in being solutions-focused and so, to structurally enact care for performance in a fair context, the featured artists were paid development and performance fees for new performance commissions that far exceed the National Association for the Visual Arts’ (NAVA) standards for this medium. They were paid appropriate superannuation and the delegated performers in this program were similarly remunerated. These artists were deferred to and allowed to lead process and were treated as the expert knowledge holders of their practices, lived experiences and needs. These artists were also selected due to their existing connection to Performance Review, to emphasise the necessity of long-term relationship building when working with this inherently precarious medium.
When I initially commissioned Kori, in May of 2023, for this project, the work we discussed presenting was an adaptation of a work they had begun developing in Taipei the year before at the Taipei Performing Arts Centre’s (TPAC) Asia Discovers Asia Meeting (ADAM) for Contemporary Performance. This work centred around caring for and preparing a space for a performance and emphasised the embodied nature of performance, through careful movement and the balanced suspension of Kori’s body above the ground. However, later that year the world radically shifted and in response to this and significant developments in their own life, Kori decided to change what they were presenting to a new work and mode of practice, WHO CARES?, which was emerging for them as a means of processing the rage and love they were feeling in equal measures at this time.
I could write volumes about what happened next, however that’s not and I really don’t want to make it the headline here. The real headline is what Kori made of this situation, how they went on to develop WHO CARES? into a methodology for making performance and a practice of ongoing resistance in the face of genocide and rampant fascism. The real story here is one of perseverance and of hope. In the interview that follows, Kori speaks to this in their own words.
Kori Miles, Who Cares? [Iteration no. 3], 2024, performance documentation, Performance Review presents Performing Care, 2025. Photos: Machiko Abe. Courtesy of the artist and Performance Review.
The origins of the work
AW: It’s an interesting provocation actually, our collective withdrawal from the art fair, in that it demonstrates the curatorial mandate we were working with, with Performing Care, in action. It provides a clear example of care being functionally enacted. I think that rings true in what followed this too. But before we expand on that, I’d like to ask you about the origins of the work and what was going on in your life when you started developing this work in 2023. Can you speak to this and the bleed between art in life in your practice?
Kori Miles (KM): When you first pitched the project to me I was in Mparntwe Alice Springs at the time and we spoke on video call. I remember saying ‘maybe.’ I was hesitant to commit to the project, as I was in a period of transformation, doing some necessary, deep trauma healing. I hadn’t really performed much over the past year. However, I was thinking a lot about care and in particular, self-care. I had put my arts practice on the back burner and was focused on trying to cultivate more stability in my life.
In our initial conversations, we spoke about how I was thinking about care in relation to performance and practice and how I’d neglected to develop proper ways of caring for myself; emotionally, physically, mentally and spiritually. Performance is such a vulnerable act and you can do a lot of damage when you don't know how to care for yourself, or how to protect yourself while you're constantly putting yourself in that state.
I’d also become really jaded with the arts, having worked as an artist and arts worker for almost a decade and having witnessed so much exploitation of labor, culture and identity. I also questioned the value of art—especially at an institutional level—and whether it can actually help, for lack of a better term, ‘make the world a better place,’ or whether it’s just a self-indulgent and self-exploitative distraction from the liberal capitalist agenda.
I came around to the idea of performing at the art fair if I could make a work that could be critical of the fair itself as a capitalist spectacle. I thought that maybe I could achieve something subversive that could hold a mirror up to everyone there. I didn’t necessarily know what that would be (as a performance), but yes, we were discussing expanding the slow, ritualistic preparation of space I’d been experimenting with in Taipei, as an alternative to the spectacular dance expected in these kinds of contexts, where performance is understood only for its ability to titillate. Then, one week after October 7, when the brutality of the Israeli occupation’s assault on the Gaza Strip had escalated into blatant genocide, the results of the Voice Referendum were revealed and the Right Wing Coalition was voted into power in Aotearoa in the same weekend. It felt like something was happening in the collective psyche, that the world was being pulled towards fascism andI felt I needed to up my activist game a bit more.
Every week, I attended the March for Palestine and got more involved with various activist and community groups. Bearing witness to a live streamed genocide—that the media was not reporting on truthfully—and given that so many people were defending or remaining silent and inactive was infuriating. It became grounding to be amongst other people every week who actually gave a shit. Showing up regularly to these rallies gave not only myself, but a lot of us, a space where we could go and collectively express our rage, but also hold and connect with each other. There was a lot of solidarity across a lot of different First Nations communities in this space and it wasn’t a container for our rage alone, it was a sort of recognition of our mutual struggles and an honouring of our resistance and perseverance, especially that of Palestinians. It made me think about when we, as Māori, perform haka. It’s full of intensity, thrill, excitement, fear, awe, anger, grief and a lot of these complex emotions that we might not be able to find an outlet for in our day to day. But it’s also full of aroha, of love. Love for our culture, people, ancestors and each other. A haka isn’t just for us, those who are performing it, it’s for everyone.
This feeling is at the core of WHO CARES?. As an artist, I let thoughts and ideas collect, almost like they’re forming into a cloud that is slowly building to rain. I’m guided by my intuition and I sometimes have an idea of something I want to do and then gather the necessary materials to try and execute it. When it comes to workshopping my ideas, I try and get to the point where I’m in a flow state and I’m not over thinking what I’m trying to make. I surrender to the process and try to be present in my body and the space. I allow my body and voice to be a vessel and to articulate whatever needs to come out. Inherently, what I do in my life tends to flow into my art practice. Whether I’m consciously aware of it at the time, I will often only notice these connections afterwards. I’d recently started practicing Mau rākau (a Māori fighting art) and had formed a Takataapui Waiata group with some friends, where we could get together, once a week, to learn our cultural songs. These things also inherently flowed into the piece.
I had been toying with the idea of using the commission for this art fair project to buy materials that could be used for a performance, but also in community based activism. The megaphones that I use in this performance have been and continue to be used in a variety of protests. I wanted to lead by example with this and propose a way that we should, as artists, be thinking about how we can use our access and resources to help aid our communities and our resistance movements.
All of this in mind, WHO CARES? began to emerge as the work I wanted to do for this commission. I wanted the performance to operate like an experiment. I wanted to shout a number of different call-and-response chants into megaphones that had a recording function on them, to see if patrons of the fair would respond, or whether they would remain silent—and then play the recording back to them. As soon as the art fair caught wind of the content of my work, particularly the use of the phrase, “From the River to the Sea,” they began throwing a series of administrative obstacles in front of the work, from trying to move to work into an isolated room, to at the last minute rescheduling the performance time so that it clashed with a time I had specified I didn’t want to perform, which was on a Sunday, during the weekly rally. I ended up withdrawing from that shit show. But I still wanted to explore this piece.
Kori Miles, Who Cares? [Iteration no. 3], 2024, performance documentation, Performance Review presents Performing Care, 2025. Photos: Machiko Abe. Courtesy of the artist and Performance Review.
Kori Miles, Who Cares? [Iteration no. 3], 2024, performance documentation, Performance Review presents Performing Care, 2025. Photos: Machiko Abe. Courtesy of the artist and Performance Review.
The work’s development
AW: My next questions are around the 2024 development of WHO CARES? as part of Performance Space’s Queer Development Program and the presentation of WHO CARES? in February 2025 by Performance Review as part of Performing Care. I think it’s important context, to note that as part of doing the real, structural care work, post what happened with the fair you and I, with Arini Byng and Georgia Banks—the other artists involved in this project—came together and collectively decided not to let your works or the broader project be erased. Instead, we were supported by the City of Melbourne to present Performing Care as an afternoon of performance at North Melbourne Community Centre. We chose this non-arts institution space intentionally, so as not to risk further compromise of the project and its affiliated works, but also as a comment on the increasing pressure our institutions face to silence the voices of artists who express pro-Palestine stances.
Bearing this in mind, my questions are how did WHO CARES? develop with Performance Space’s support in 2024? What did it feel like to present WHO CARES? in 2025 as part of Performing Care? And what was unique about this iteration of the work?
KM: The Queer Development Program with Performance Space gave me the opportunity to breathe life back into the work. After the whole art fair ordeal, I stopped developing the work entirely, as the back and forth battle with them had really consumed a lot of my energy. It was refreshing to be in Sydney, a different city, where no one really knew me. I was given the time and space to develop the work, to receive feedback and engage in conversation around the work. It also allowed me to finally test my experiment.
By the time of the showcase, I had developed about 10 minutes of the work, most of which is still in the current iterations of the performance I’ll be presenting at Liveworks. It was really great to get, not only feedback, but a lot of support for the performance. People were really moved by the emotional expressiveness of the work and shared in its energies and catharsis. On reflection, my main takeaway from that iteration was really feeling my ihi and power in the way my convictions were being delivered. There was a ferociousness in my energy, but at the same time, there was a tenderness and a warmth and a sense of care. I think this is what audience members were really connecting with.
Then, at the beginning of this year, we were able to present Performing Care in Naarm Melbourne. We had decided on a venue that was not connected to an arts institution or organisation, but that was a community space. This was very important to us after being censored, that there was no interference. This version of the performance was more stripped back in a way — natural lighting, no make-up. I felt like the performance was a healing ceremony. It held a lot of emotions in it and I really felt held and supported by my friends and whanau who attended, particularly by my Māori crew. Irihipeti Waretini, who is now a collaborator in one of the performances at Liveworks, sang a mihi (acknowledgement) to me, which was such a special moment for me personally. I am thankful to Arini and Georgia for their solidarity through this process and particularly grateful to you, Anador, for your advocacy and support and love.
AW: Back at you my love, it’s been a journey and I’m really grateful for our having walked it together.
Kori Miles, Who Cares? [Iteration no. 3], 2024, performance documentation, Performance Review presents Performing Care, 2025. Photos: Machiko Abe. Courtesy of the artist and Performance Review.
WHO CARES? at Liveworks
AW: You’re about to present three iterations of WHO CARES? in Eora Sydney as part of Performance Space’s 2025 Liveworks festival. I understand that across three days you’ll be staging a solo version of the work, a performance with two collaborators and a workshop, all under the banner of WHO CARES? Can you speak to each of these parts of your presentation at Liveworks?
KM: For Liveworks, I was tossing up what work I wanted to show. I wanted to keep developing the solo piece that I showed for Performing Care. However, as an artist, I always want to be trying and learning new things, introducing new elements into my practice, new challenges and gaining more experience. So part of me wanted to really open up the work to involve collaborators. I had also thought about the idea of doing a workshop, as another means of collaboration and to have more of an intimate exchange with the community in Sydney. When talking with Kate Britton about my multiple ideas for Liveworks, she simply proposed, “why don’t you do all three?” and this made so much sense to me.
The sequence of these works at Liveworks is quite intentional — it goes from a solo piece, to a collaborative piece with two other artists, to a workshop with even more participant and so the piece swells and grows each time. One of my motivations for opening up the work, to making it a collaborative piece, was to stress the importance of community and collaboration. The whole process of working with other people is an integral part not only of activism, but of life. As an artist, I do sometimes enjoy working by myself, nurturing my own internal dialog, but I learn a lot more through collaborating with others. When it came to my first development session with Agnes Whalan and Irihipeti Waretini (the artists performing in the second work), I found that figuring out how to introduce them to the world of this work, to teach them how to use the megaphones and my techniques and performance style, forced me to think about the work in a new way. I then developed a more formal methodology for the work, based on analysing the documentation of the works. This actually helped me better understand what I was doing. I then taught this methodology to Irihipeti and Agnes and I will be bringing this same methodology to the workshop to teach it to a community of artists/performers/activists in Sydney.
I think part of what I hope to do with my performances and workshops is to inspire and encourage new and lateral ways of thinking about art, performance and activism. I want to be able to do that without moral compromise and with integrity. Even if there is just one moment in a performance that I do, that plants a seed in someone that experiences it and that seed, at some point down the line, grows into something significant for them, for their journey towards our collective liberation, towards truth telling, healing and positive social change, then I feel that there is value and worth in having shared what I've shared. It helps give me purpose.
Kori Miles, Who Cares? [Iteration no. 3], 2024, performance documentation, Performance Review presents Performing Care, 2025. Photos: Machiko Abe. Courtesy of the artist and Performance Review.
AW: My final question is, post Liveworks, what’s next for the work? Do you think you’ll keep developing WHO CARES? and working with the methodology you’ve generated through this work?
KM: I would love for this work to continue to expand and to do more iterations. I fantasise about doing a durational version of it that goes for several hours and is predominantly improvised. Working with Irihipeti and Agnes for Friday’s iteration of the performance has been a really great and enriching experience and what they both bring to the work is incredible. They are both amazing artists, performers and human beings and have helped me learn so much about the performance and myself. I would really love to work with them again. I would also be open to working with more people, in different places and contexts. Due to the nature of the work, it kind of has to change, due to the political context of where it is shown and also my relationship to it. I did a residency with Basement Theatre in Taamaki Makaurau in Aotearoa in September 2025 and I’m excited to go back there and present an iteration of the work.
When I think back to our initial conversation, your initial pitch over two years ago, where I was in my life and how I was working on making everything in my life a bit more sustainable — I think I’ve achieved that. Prior to this project, I'd mainly been doing movement based performance work and then I started writing a lot more poetry during lockdown and presenting that. A lot of my motivation behind this work was focusing on incorporating the voice more into my practice and I think I’ve achieved this too and harnessed a feeling of empowerment that comes from that. It’s got me thinking about the voice and language as both a weapon and a tool of resistance, about the power of language. One of my new goals is to become fluent in speaking te reo Māori.
This piece has been co-published by Performance Review and Performance Space on the occasion of Kori Miles’ participation in Liveworks 2025.
Between Thursday 23 October and Sunday 26 October 2025, Kori will present three iterations of WHO CARES? as part of Performance Space’s 2025 Liveworks Festival in Eora Sydney.
In these ceremonial performances, Kori uses breath, sound and movement to summon the energies of protest, resistance and transformation. Through repetition and layering, they abstract the familiar visual and auditory iconography of political resistance, creating a mystical ambience for an audience to navigate - a space for contemplation on justice, liberation, rage and love.
Thursday 23 October, 7-8pm Kori will present a solo performance of WHO CARES?
Friday 24 October, 7-8pm Kori will perform WHO CARES? collaboratively with Agnes Whalan and Irihipeti Waretini.
Sunday 26 October, 12-2pm Kori will be running a workshop, teaching the methodology of WHO CARES? to a group of artists/performers/activists, guiding participants through a series of movement and sound-based exercises.
Kori Miles is a genderfluid trickster of Māori, Anglo-Celtic and Italian ancestry, currently living and working between so-called Australia and Aotearoa. Kori is an interdisciplinary artist who predominantly uses performance, installation & sculpture as modes of expression. Kori’s artistic processes are experimental, playful and ritualistic. Their current practice confronts the ongoing violence of Western imperialism and explores transgression, transformation, resistance, self-determination and the collective psyche.
Anador Walsh is an independent curator and writer and the Director of Performance Review.