Forget fitness, career or finance goals, the most important (and by far the most fun) New Year resolutions to make are those that relate to culture. Is this the year you finally read Sally Rooney’s novels or organise your bookshelf by colour? Maybe you’ll watch every film nominated for Best Picture at the Academy Awards, or buy your first piece of Australian art. We asked actors, writers, journalists and artists to share their watching, listening, reading and visiting goals for 2023.

Nathalie Morris, actor

1. I’ll watch all the films of Jim Jarmusch. I was lucky enough to go to the Marrakech Film Festival in November, where I attended a talk with Jarmusch. I was so inspired by how he spoke about his filmmaking. He described his films as action movies without the action. He said he was most interested in the “in-between” moments of life. He keeps a notebook to write down all the little things that catch his attention during the day, and he intuitively turns these images and thoughts into films over time. I think if I were to ever make a film it would come about in a similar way. I was surprised that I hadn’t watched a single one of his films!
2. I’ll get back to the theatre. I used to go to the theatre all the time. I’d catch as many productions as I could from the main stage to little black-box theatres, to friends’ works in progress in their garages. I’ve resolved to get back into it and to discover some venues and artists here in Sydney. I’m keen to see some stuff at the Sydney Festival in January, and even more keen to see Claudia Karvan return to the stage in STC’s The Goat or, Who is Sylvia? in March.
3. I’ll host some play readings with friends. We did this a few times when I was at drama school. I’d make a big pot of soup and we’d sit around in our damp flat or in the school’s common rooms after hours and assign everyone characters. It wasn’t like in class where we were all trying to be good and right, we were just doing it for the fun of it, and we discovered some great plays and had heaps of fun. I’d really love to do this again.

Season three of Bump is on Stan. Stan is owned by Nine, the owner of this masthead.

Jane Harper, author

1. I will take a ruthless hand to my bookshelves. There are a million books in the world, but they don’t all need to live at my house. The one-day-I-will reads, the gifted novels that just aren’t for me (even if they do carry a handwritten inscription wishing me the happiest of birthdays), the beautifully illustrated prize-winning children’s books that I refuse to accept my kids haven’t warmed to. Let 2023 be the year I commit: If we don’t love it, let it go.
2. I will keep the library books separate. While I’m organising my shelves, I resolve to finally set aside a dedicated space for those books that are mine only temporarily. My children and I love libraries, and the only thing that tarnishes the experience is scrabbling through mixed-up titles when the return date rolls around.
3. I will turn my back on my favourite authors. Not for good, and not for long, but it’s sometimes too easy to fall back on those tried and tested names. It’s always a wonderful experience to discover someone fresh, and with so many fantastic new authors on the scene, why not see what else is out there?

Jane Harper’s latest novel is Exiles (Pan Macmillan).

Brenda L Croft, artist

1. Taking time to just sit in one place and think about nothing in particular. This year has been about as jam-packed as it can possibly have been – I guess that’s what COVID-19 pandemonium over the past three years does to us; we try to make up for the lost time by doing everything at once! This year I’ve traversed the country from top to bottom via motorhome with my 11-year-old son, an amazing way to see part of this vast continent. In July, we set off from Canberra – where we are privileged to live, work and play on Ngambri/Ngunnawal unceded sovereign homelands – to Brisbane via Sydney, then northwest through Queensland via Camooweal to Darwin. We also took two trips home to Kalkaringi and Daguragu in the Victoria River region – the first time I’d been back in six years. I love nothing better than long road trips. Big skies and open roads mean freedom; memories take me back to travelling across the Nullarbor Plain with my parents and younger brother Lindsay when I was four. At the end of November, we came back via Moree, Dubbo and Cowra to Canberra in six days, flat out.
2. Hanging out with my young son, nephew, nieces, brother and sister-in-law, soaking up the revamped cultural sites and older ones I haven’t gotten to yet, in the most sublime harbour city in the world, Sydney. I can’t wait to see the new galleries in the Australian Museum, Sydney Modern, Powerhouse Museum, and Museum of Sydney with its focus on Sydney First Nations, particularly Dharawal people and culture. Carriageworks is one of my favourite Sydney buildings – my maternal grandfather, Herb Stone, worked there as a young fitter and turner when it was Eveleigh Railway Workshops.
3. Seeing First Nations women and girls view their portraits for the first time. It’s been an utter privilege working on a major photo media project supported by Lendlease since 2016, which was when I got up home to the Northern Territory. I couldn’t have done this without the great technical support of my friend Prue Hazelgrove, a young gun photographer in her own right. Prue has helped me photograph dozens of First Nations women and girls for a massive project honouring Barangaroo, a staunch sovereign Cammeraygal warrior woman. In January, 222 years after her death, many of the inspiring women and girls photographed as metaphorical avatars of Barangaroo will finally see themselves revealed in installations at Barangaroo Precinct projected onto Old Government House at Parramatta Park – both Sydney Festival events – and at the Museum of Sydney in their new collection display. Honouring the past in the present, for those to come in the future. Reclaiming, reinvigorating, reclaiming. Marntaj.

Brenda L. Croft’s major outdoor public artwork, Naabami (thou shall/will see): Barangaroo (army of me), will be at Barangaroo waterfront from January 5 as part of the Sydney Festival.

Lisa Millar, journalist

1. I hesitate to use the word “audit” for fear of immediately sending readers into a coma, but I’m going to audit my bookcase. And when I say audit, I’m looking at you, Michael Connolly. You’ve kept me company in bed for more than a few nights but you’re not really meant to hang around once the relationship is finished. You should have been left accidentally-on-purpose behind in a beachside Airbnb long ago. On your way.
2. I’m going to take to the water on a brightly coloured stand-up paddle board. I’m going to own those open waters (and by open waters I mean just slightly beyond the confines of the marina at St Kilda, where land is still within an easy swim).
3. I want to get a handle on AI chatbots and how to make them work for me. I had a go at getting one to write this piece for Spectrum. It suggested that I “start a monthly book club, cut back on my sugar intake to improve my overall well-being and get a new hobby like painting or drawing”. Frankly, that all sounds like something your psych or your mother would nag you into doing. If it had offered to audit my bookcase, I would have been impressed.

Lisa Millar is the co-host of ABC News Breakfast.

Craig Silvey, author

1. I will explore the magical world of books for early readers: At four months old, my daughter Matilda is already a fiend of literature. And like a lot of infants, she is a ruthless critic. Her tastes are exacting and often bafflingly inconsistent, and she wastes no time delivering her verdict. There is no middle ground. Books are appraised immediately with either squeals of giddy delight, or wriggles of outraged consternation. Spot is an early favourite. The Grug books never fail. Mem Fox and Alison Lester have her heart forever. Dr Seuss? Absolutely not, get that out of my face immediately. I was not prepared for the pang of rejection I felt when the picture books that I adored as a young child fell afoul of her relentless judgement, but it’s a beautiful reminder that stories move us all differently, and I’m looking forward to helping her discover her own treasured tomes.
2. I will revisit the lost chapter of a classic text: I once purchased a beautiful old leather-bound edition of The Count Of Monte Cristo for a price that I considered an unmissable bargain. I was immediately swept up by the prose, righteously riled by the string of injustices endured by Dantès. And so, it was with ravenous anticipation that I neared the scene describing his prison break, only to turn the browned and musty page to be met by a very abrupt and odd segue. Our hero was suddenly emancipated, marooned on a nearby island. I was confused until I realised there were a couple of dozen pages missing – hence, I suspected, the heavy discount. Sulking, I quit the book immediately and harboured a grudge that lasted years. But in the spirit of forgiveness, I reckon it’s time to pick up where I left off and see how old mate Edmond gets on.
3. I will lose the month of May to The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom: I fell in love with Breath of the Wild a couple of years ago, exploring the beautiful world of Hyrule late at night as a means of disconnecting my thoughts from the novel I was writing so that I might find sleep. I have an abiding, dreamlike affection for the game, and, like the rest of the planet, I’m eagerly awaiting its sequel.

Craig Silvey’s children’s novel Runtis published by A&U.

Clare Bowditch, singer and writer

I’ll be honest – I’m not a “big one” for New Year’s resolutions. I’m more of a “make resolutions as desired” kinda gal, and they’re almost always lovely and loose, with lots of room for interpretation and correction as I go.

1. I am making my very first “wicking bed”: I have the most glorious collection of gardening and nature books, but rarely make time to sit down with them anymore. My favourite is called A Garden of Useful Plants by the legendary Meredith Freeman. So – that’s going to change this year. Inspired by Joost Bakker and the example he set with his wonderful Greenhouse by Joost project, my own “wicking bed” is shaping up.
2. Lots and lots of making, listening to and seeing live music: It’s recently become clear just how dearly I had missed writing songs the way I once had, and since then, I’ve written more than I know what to do with! More broadly, music – it’s one of the greatest blessings to humanity. You can apply it to ANY situation, and it will be there for you. After decades of listening to songs and symphonies, it amazes me that such a small clutch of notes (applied in different orders, with different instrumentation, time signatures, styles) can give us so many millions of variations. What an absolute miracle the whole thing is.
3. Being in rooms with people: I know that sounds odd but, my gosh – the physical hunger for both putting on and attending live events (dance, theatre, rock and roll, opera, comedy) felt by many of us who lived through the Melbourne lockdowns of 2020 and 2021 is something we’re still recovering from. To be so desperately deprived of the joy and comfort of just being able to be together in an audience… I missed it horribly! What was once so easy sometimes now feels a little unnatural. I guess, when you spend that long training your body to second guess its instinct to enjoy the ease of semi-close physical contact with other humans, it takes some effort to return to “ease”. So if you happen to see me in an audience, come give me a high-five.

Clare Bowditch’s memoir Your Own Kind of Girl and Audible original Tame Your Inner Critic are out now.

Narelda Jacobs, journalist



1. I will pack in as many World Pride events as humanly possible. As a Rainbow Champion I feel it is my duty to reach the limits of my partying capability and open my arms to all the queers of the world. When the gays take over the Sydney Harbour Bridge, I will be front and centre with my Progress Flag!
2. From July 20 to August 20 my sole focus in life will be the Matildas! When the Women’s World Cup comes to Australia nothing else will matter. I may have a croaky voice on television – a sacrifice in the national interest.
3. Speaking of voice in the national interest, we’ll all be casting our vote in the referendum sometime this year. There is so much to read, watch and activate on the Uluru Statement from the Heart. Don’t wait to be spoon-fed information – go get it! The Point will also be there to hold your hand throughout the year with commentary and analysis from experts and elders.

Narelda Jacobs (NITV’s The Point, Studio 10, 10 News First Midday) will co-host Sunset Ceremony on NITV and SBS on January 25 at 7.30pm.

Suzanne Cotter, MCA director

1. To make sure I visit an artist in their studio or place of thinking and working at least once a month. Artists are a guiding force. Their thinking, their insistence on the necessity of making art and their courage nourishes and inspires me in my work. A good day always begins in the presence of an artist.
2. Continue to read everything that has been written by Annie Ernaux, who won the 2022 Nobel Prize for Literature for her book Les Années (The Years), in the original French. Her writing, also in translation, is so clear and so true in its evocation of ordinary people and lives that each story leaves you moved and connected more deeply with your own self.
3. To learn the Indigenous names for the beautiful flora and fauna around Sydney’s magnificent foreshore.

Suzanne Cotter is the director of the Museum of Contemporary Art Australia.

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