Anna Schwann




DR: What’s the community like here?

AS: Over the Covid period, lots more people came to this area. I think there was a strong queer community here to begin with but it feels like it’s gathered more steam. It feels very much like we’re in this beautiful, gentle bubble of queer humans, it’s quite a beautiful, embracing environment …

I just feel at home. I feel at home with these people, I feel heard and accepted. And accepted very much where I’m at, as well, as I’m quite an internal person. I have this extrovert/introvert type thing going on, so it’s good. I find it really hard, if I’m not feeling in the zone, to be among people and to be comfortable with that. I’m not really that great at being out in a social environment when I’m not feeling like it. There’s a lot of work to do there, but it’s starting to unfold a bit, because it’s just more realistic really – you can’t be ‘on’ all the time. You can’t be feeling great all the time. It’s weird if you are, actually, because that’s just not true.  

DR: How do you feel about that the acronym LGBTQIA+?

AS: LGBTQIA+ is such a fucking mouthful. I keep wondering about that. Personally, I find it quicker to say ‘rainbow alphabet’ these days. I just think it’s easier – it still encompasses everything and you have the visual on what the letters are. I know it’s more about the visibility of everybody being spoken for or included, which is nice, but when more and more and more things get added on all the time, people tend to get it wrong or miss things, because they haven’t kept up to date. And fair enough. It’s easy for some people to forget. I feel like I sit in and around there somewhere. People say, ‘There’s no P for pansexual, you’ve got to have a P in there!’ or, ‘Can we move the letters around a little bit so it’s a word you can say – so it becomes something?’ Personally, even though I align in terms of values, I think just ‘queer’ is an easier way to say it. Because that’s the thing that feels the most right. But I don’t really care if people don’t call me that. So do I belong in there even if I feel like I don’t need it? There are other people that need it more. I don’t necessarily feel in or out – I feel on the cusp.

DR: How does language impact you in relation to your queerness?

AS: I guess language comes down to being a bit political. I feel like a big part of queer identity is that it’s a community of care, so it reflects on your politics – where you sit in terms of the environment or the political landscape. It really reflects on your care for others – how you approach people and the way you speak to or treat them. Maybe making less assumptions, asking more questions. I would personally probably default to saying ‘they’ before I knew someone’s preferences for pronouns. I think there’s more of that culture of care and awareness around language and how things affect your people, your circle.

DR: Can you talk about your marshmallow work and the idea of revealing and concealing?

AS: A lot of what I’ve been working on has been around resistance – vulnerability and resistance – so it is something that’s on my mind. It’s like a pushing back or resisting of definition, I suppose. Resisting is a lot of hard work because you’re pushing all the time – it’s quite tiring if you’re not sure. It’s a kind of defining, but the other way around – so instead of being able to say, ‘I know what this is and I can tell, I can come forward’, you respond to someone who says it is ‘this’ with, ‘No, it’s not that. Is it this?’ So you’re kind of buffering back.
You define something by saying what it isn’t. I still feel quite vague when I try and describe all of this stuff.

I’m thinking about this in relation to the materials of my work too – the way things function. They might resist making sense. They might resist working properly. I’m trying to think of a better way to describe it. There is a resistance with marshmallow because it doesn’t press any further than the skin, it just sits on the outside.


Anna Schwann (they/them) is an artist working in an expanded sculptural practice encompassing video, sensory installation and audience participation. Their work centres around the queer notion of failure, celebrating flops and pointlessness in humorous ways as a means of establishing a temporary community. An upbringing with religious, DIY parents feeds a resourceful approach to making, with self-imposed laborious practices that writhe with inner tension. Anna currently lives and works on Dja Dja Wurrung Country in Castlemaine.