As a journalist, language has always played a big part in my life. Obviously. Everything I do is steeped in English. But when I went on my Creative Industries study tour to Taiwan, that wasn’t the case. And, honestly, it didn’t matter.
Over those few weeks, I learnt that art and culture transcend language. Travelling around a country where the only thing I could communicate clearly is that I wanted a bubble tea with less ice, I didn’t feel like I was struggling to understand what the local artists were saying. I got the picture. I got the message.
On one of the first days of the trip, when we were walking around the National Palace Museum, I noticed how important language was – how it could make or break an exhibit. And, in a sense, I still agree with that. Words are still important.
But, in another sense, they’re really not. At the Makotaay Eco Arts Village, when asking the curator, Nakaw Putun, about how she approaches the language barrier with other artists, she simply replied, “Art is a language”. And, after my trip, I’d say I agree.
At Dong Hwa University, when the students were performing in their native language, we didn’t need to understand the literal lyrics. We understood the message. As a music journalist who spends most of her time pulling apart and analysing lyrics, it was refreshing to have this new take on music and art as a whole.
Sure, lyrics may be important, but music is more than that. It’s storytelling. It’s the feeling, the emotion. It’s a reflection of identity, culture, history – especially when it comes to Indigenous cultures. Diversity is what keeps music relevant – and interesting. As I also heard at Makotaay, “Art is the spirit of life, and when you bring other cultures in, it can enrich that sense.”
I’ve never heard music like the songs of the Indigenous Amis people. It’s a far cry from the basic indie surf rock I often hear in Australia. But I think that’s the point.
The retention of culture in art is a form of activism. It keeps the culture alive, against all odds. That was a recurring theme throughout the trip. Art and activism go hand-in-hand. After all, it is the best way to get a message across.
Across the years, music has been used as a tool for activism. From Billie Holiday’s Strange Fruit to Childish Gambino’s This is America, songs have always been utilised by marginalised groups – and I saw the same thing happening in Taiwan. It was so evident throughout our trip that the Indigenous communities in Taiwan use their art – including music – as a way to express their feelings about their country’s turbulent past.
In much the same way, I’ve seen Indigenous Australian musicians using their work to reclaim their identities – but until my trip, I hadn’t thought of this as a form of activism. But, as a marginalised community, retaining that culture is actually a statement.
And that’s what I need to keep in mind when cultivating my practice. Music journalism is not just about reporting—it’s about empowering voices, especially those marginalised by mainstream culture. Music isn’t just music. Language isn’t just language. It’s tradition. It’s history. It’s activism. It’s culture. It’s love.
Side note: If you ever get the chance to go on an international study tour, take it. I dare you.
