Phantom Blog

Prima Facie tells the story of Tessa (Mel Dodge), a top defence lawyer who specialises in tearing holes in the claims of alleged victims of sexual assault. To her, law is a sport, and like all top athletes, she lives for the next game.The opponent is irrelevant, only beating them. Tessa is a captivating character; highly intelligent and a little cocky but self aware enough to be funny about it.

The inescapable intimacy of a one-person play is the perfect canvas for Prima Facie.

As Tessa monologues to the audience, she confides in us, she banters with us, she makes us laugh and draws us in. Somehow we are on Tessa’s side, vicariously enjoying the ride of her success. When she explains the correct method of interrogating a victim on the witness stand until they’re tangled in a web they can’t get out of, we can’t help but admire the craft. We really shouldn’t like her but we do.

One night, Tessa is brutally assaulted by someone close to her and everything she had taken for granted in life suddenly lies in tatters. The status afforded to her by a prestigious job, her position in society as a winner and her core sense of self are all suddenly feel deeply compromised. In the court case which follows, all the weapons of rhetoric, language and implication which Tessa deployed so skilfully for a living are turned in on her. Now she is the one trying to scramble her way out of a web the lawyer for the accused is spinning around her. 

The bond established between the protagonist and the audience in the first half of the story serves to heighten the emotional impact of the harrowing turn of events. A “He Said, She Said” case is the most brutal dissection of character imaginable. For a jury of their peers, two people will compete to be viewed as the sole honest and respectable member of society. 

Prima Facie examines the ingrained unconscious prejudices that form our collective perceptions, projections and biases. It also illuminates how the legal system and the power structures which govern society are built to defend the status quo from those who would disrupt it.

The plot and themes of Prima Facie are undeniably heavy but the play never risks overwhelming the audience with an excess of misery. On the contrary, it provokes a lot of thought about urgent societal issues while entertaining and engaging from beginning to end with a very tight control of pace and tone. 

There’s a polish to the whole production born of experience, this being the 2^nd season of the play after an initial New Zealand run last year. The minimal set, lighting and score serve the story well without ever distracting. The long standing ovation at the conclusion was richly deserved.

*Little whinge on the side: When you go to the theatre, go to the toilet before hand and turn your fucking phone off. Jesus. 

Of late, it’s been nothing but giant briefs through the door for our Custom Shop team. For us, Custom Shop means from scratch, to mind bending, one of a kind, showstoppers. It means blending paper, paste, paint, and now giant ginger hands. 

The backdrop to this campaign, a stunning mural that introduces the mythical ‘Ginger Giant’ to the city. 

This isn’t just any mural—it’s a dynamic piece of art that blends seamlessly with the eclectic vibe of K’ Road while standing out as a testament to the creative energy of our team and the mysticism of the Ginger Giant himself. We wanted to create something that wasn’t just a backdrop but an integral part of the community’s visual landscape.

But the mural is just the beginning.

To ensure the ‘Ginger Giant’ made its mark, we also rolled out a large-scale street poster campaign. These posters are strategically placed to catch the eye of anyone passing through this cultural hub, making Mac’s new drink impossible to miss. It’s all about spreading the message far and wide, inviting everyone to experience what Mac’s Brewery has to offer.

By blending art, culture, and advertising, we create experiences that resonate with both the brand and the community. 

We’re stoked with this project, and we can’t wait to see how the Ginger Giant will inspire and delight everyone who encounters it on K’ Road.

Cheers to creativity, collaboration, and, of course, the legendary Ginger Giant!

With National Poetry Day fast approaching, we always find ourselves reminiscing about the important history of poetry in New Zealand.

With that sentiment in mind, we look back to our founders blog from 2011, an excerpt from Diary of a Billsticker.

‘We drove into Philly early in the morning of Memorial Day. There were not a lot of people around and it was very peaceful and quiet. This always sets the tone for a good poster run. Later in the day, it would get to be 95 degrees (Fahrenheit), but at just after 8 AM it was around 70 degrees – so it was relatively cool work and it was unhurried. The people you run into on a poster run are usually very friendly and they well understand what you are doing. It is just normal stuff to them. In fact, it is a craven-hearted individual who does not understand another person putting up a poster.

We put up posters by the following poets: Janet Frame, Chris Knox, Sandra Bell, Sam Hunt, Tusiata Avia (all from New Zealand) and Robert Creeley (USA). About 80 or 90 A3 posters were placed in the South Philly area and this took less than an hour. You put two up on each wooden lamp-post with a kind of semi-industrial stapler, you stop and photograph them and then you move on.

South Philly is a very cool and funky area. The local clubs and gigs use posters (of course) and the best I have seen lately are for the Mexican music acts. Their posters are ultra colourful and really do the work they are intended to do: they tell the local Mexican population where the gigs are. They breathe life and vitality into the streets.

Anyway, I was asked to explain how to do a poster run. So here it is:

1. You stand in front of a lamp-post with a heavy industrial stapler and a couple of poetry posters until you decide to do something about it. You always put the posters on the poles at an angle where they will be seen by the maximum number of people. You think of the way people walk past the poles.

2. You look right and then left for signs of the proximity of Homeland Security or anyone else who might think you could be a terrorist. You make sure your hair is short and that you have no beard. You must wear no unusual clothes. You decide that you are the same religion as the person who might question you and you also decide to be subservient. You will go into any difficult encounters by agreeing with the encounterer. As Hunter S. Thompson once said, “To get along, go along.” This will be your mantra. You will apologise to anyone if you have to and then you will ‘move along.’ The key is to hold onto your stapler.

3. You hold the poster up against the lamp-post and then you whack it with the stapler with all your might. You think of this as being something like getting rid of the dirty water off your chest. You may grimace. But, if you are putting up a poem poster by any of the six poets who have been mentioned, then you will instantly feel much better. By God, there’s some satisfaction to be had by doing something enormously simple over and over. There’s power in that.

4. After about four or five poles you will begin to loosen up and really get into the rhythm of it all. At that point, you may be able to look back and see people reading the posters and then you know you have done something good. That’s important. It’s just a small step, but it is a step forward. When you really get into the swing of it, you will not want to stop and you are always disappointed when you must. But tomorrow is another day.

5. After about thirty or forty poles (or notice boards in cafes etc), you realise you have made a difference and brought something to the lives of others. That’s the key to it all. But you must keep doing it’

Keep the Faith,

Jim Wilson

You may have seen it in the flesh, or heard rumblings about it on the streets of Wellington.

There are some changes going on in the big (little/medium) smoke, and the team behind We Skate Pōneke are leading the charge when it comes to skateboarding in the capital and indeed Aotearoa.

Having employed many a skateboarder over the years, we realise how vitally important this often overlooked activity is for the creative energy of a city.

Just barely scratch the surface of the culture and you instantly see a tight knit, creative and passionate community thats as inclusive as it is innovative.

Having run the We Skate Pōneke campaign on our network a little while ago, we caught up with Max for a quick chat about the project.

Hey Max, For those reading who don’t know, what is WSA and We Skate Poneke? 

WSA is Wellington Skateboarding Association, a group of volunteer skaters from around Wellington who work together to advocate for the skate community.

Basically, we’re a touchpoint for councils, the media and anyone who wants to find out more about skateboarding in Wellington. 

We Skate Pōneke is an initiative from Wellington City Council (WCC). A couple of years ago they ran some posters and a social media campaign with profiles of local skaters to show we’re quite a diverse and interesting bunch. This year, they’ve helped out by paying a local skater/tradie named Kyle to build some obstacles and getting permissions to have pop-up spots at a few sites around the city.

So, What’s the purpose of the campaign? 

The purpose of the campaign is all about making space for skate in the city, and celebrating the positive benefits that street skating brings to Wellington.

Personally, I’m excited that the council is down to do this kind of stuff – it’s a complete 180 from placing knobs on ledges and yelling at us to leave public space for daring to ride a skateboard, which is the way our community is used to being treated.

What’s the current state of skateboarding in Wellington?

I think the state of skateboarding is really healthy – there’s a bunch of younger skaters who are locals at ‘Mems’, as well as strong communities at the two DIY spots, as well as the old dogs at the bowl at Waitangi and the vert heads at Karori – and plenty more besides.

Skateboarding in Wellington has never been more diverse or exciting, and I’m really encouraged by the relationship we have with the council. Hopefully we get some new permanent facilities soon to reflect that, and to help foster our communities to get together more (as well as encourage new people to join) – because the current state of our skateparks is embarrassing, to say the least.

Was there a reason behind choosing Phantom Posters to showcase the campaign and is this the first time you’ve worked with Phantom? 

Phantom rules! Not only are they easy to deal with, they employ skaters. 100% down!

Is there anywhere you want to direct people to? 

Our poorly maintained Instagram https://www.instagram.com/wsa_nz/ and Facebook https://www.facebook.com/wellingtonskateboardingassociation accounts.

Are there any other exciting projects coming up? 

We have a few things coming up, pitching in with a group working to activate Pukeahu (Mems) as a proper skate spot, a few skateparks in the works, and the big goal of upgrading Waitangi Park in the city. The city needs a decent central skatepark – imagine that!

In April 1974 I was found guilty of various narcotics offenses and driven out to Her Majesty’s Prison at Paparua.

The “Meat-wagon” as it was known was an old 1948 International truck with an enormous cab on the back which housed approximately twenty prisoners and three guards. One screw was in the back behind a locked door and two were in the front, a driver and a sidekick. Each of them had an alcoholic look with ruddy cheeks and big ears. Funny the things one remembers.

The truck bounced up and down having no suspension to speak of. Everything inside

it that could be destroyed was. It was a truck built for angry men. It swayed from side to side. In the streets of the city people stopped and stared and it was like we were being sent to Devil’s Island.

It was near the end of the working day and the van waited whilst prisoners were rounded up for the trip.

I still thought they’d gotten the wrong man. I was completely at the mercy of my addiction and had very little experience of the criminal justice system. I was moderately withdrawing from opiates and I climbed inside my Swandri wool jacket just as much as I could. I was wearing John Lennon sunglasses, Levi jeans and a pair of workingman’s boots.

After all, I had been working very hard busting open chemists and opening safes.

At “Pap” I was put in an ‘association cell’ with about a dozen sick alcoholics for the night.

Down the wing were some cracked windows behind the bars which gave one a view of the old capital punishment hanging yard. Not pretty and sure to change one’s opinion on life and everything within it. People can be mean.

The alcoholics cried and sweated all night, some of them hallucinating.

My Uncle was an alcoholic and saw service in the 23rd Battalion in WW2. He was the oldest man in the unit (36 years old) and put his age back by a dozen years in order to be able to serve.

He lived with us when I was growing up. My parents, having been farm labourers, could not afford their own house so my uncle bought them one. He was shell shocked and could not hardly string a sentence together, but he still worked, as a boilerman at Kempthorne Prossers.

Every Saturday afternoon, having been to the pub after working in the morning, he’d crawl up Russell Street in Dunedin on his hands and knees.

He was in the merchant navy before the war and my mother said that he’d been in every jail in the world for drunkeness including the infamous “Tombs” in Brooklyn. He was a man who knew how to enjoy himself.

My uncle had been at the battle of El Alamein where 3000 Kiwis were killed.

The only story he ever told us about the war was when the Battalion was in Greece and some soldiers were gathered together brewing up a pot of tea and some Stukas came screaming out of the sky directly above them. On that day they were lucky.

After the war he was sent a letter from some German Paratroopers association inviting him to join and complementing the New Zealanders on the fighting ability.

He was a very, very kind man.

In jail, after the association cell, two months later, I was sent to the minimum security jail at Rolleston. A general all round nightmare. Like Homer’s Odyssey but with more snakes.

It housed the notorious child molester Alf Vincent. He went on to do more than 30 years inside and when they gave a trial of weekend release he played up again. Character.

I remember waiting in the foodline one day and Alf was running up and down imploring, “It was

little girls, not little boys….I’m not queer.”

We are all flawed in one way or another, and Alf just happened to get the short straw. The kids got even shorter straws.

We all clamour around looking for love and in the end it might just kill us.