I remember telling my long-suffering partner—also my eternal plus-one at every cultural outing—that I’d been invited to the Horizon Festival. He raised an eyebrow and asked, “So, West End or South Bank?”

“No,” I replied.

“Brisbane?” he tried again.

That’s when I had to break the news: the festival was taking place in Maroochydore, Caloundra, Nambour… places that, to him, felt a world away. The look on his face was a mix of confusion, mild horror, and emotional defeat—though to be fair, some of that may have been due to his beloved Broncos getting thrashed the night before.

A week later, we hit the road. His mood: grim. The Broncos had lost again. But then something remarkable happened.

At the end of a night filled with art, performance, and unexpected joy, he turned to me and said, glowing: “Honey, there was a sign on the way up that said ‘Maroochydore: Brisbane’s next great city.’ It should read ‘Maroochydore: Melbourne without the plane ticket.’”

And just like that, he was beaming—animated by the feeling he hadn’t had in over a decade, back when he lived on a couch in an office in Melbourne’s CBD, shooting amateur street photography and losing himself in the city’s creative chaos.

If the Sunshine Coast Council set out to showcase the depth, soul, and sheer unexpectedness of arts and culture on the Coast, then the Horizon Festival was a raging success. Not only did it convert a skeptic—it reminded us both why we go looking for culture in the first place.

 

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Pigeon Fool by Counterpilot

The crowd gathered outside the Urban Gallery exhibit Pigeon Fool—tucked between a couple of wonderfully oddball discount and specialty stores at the Big Top Shopping Centre—was buzzing with anticipation. We weren’t entirely sure what lay behind the door, but what we got was… not your typical art installation.

Inside, the lights were low and the atmosphere teetered somewhere between Black Mirror episode and late-night tech demo. A row of strange terminals greeted us, each one shaped like a handheld mirror fused to a rectangular base. If the setting didn’t stir a little existential dread, the content certainly did—especially once dead internet theory came into play.

And then it got weirder, and better.

This was no static exhibit. The experience was completely unlike anything we'd seen—futuristic in the most unnervingly human way. A lifelike AI generated projection spoke back to us, its manner oddly familiar, blurring the already wobbly lines between AI and reality. It didn’t just entertain; it gently poked at that age-old question: what exactly makes us human?

To the poor souls who entered after us, puzzled over whether the words “Meow” and “Woof” had come from a human or a machine—just know, we feel your pain. And we wish we could have seen your faces. The interactive piece by Counterpilot didn’t just bend our brains—it left us walking out of there with our curiosity spiked and our reality slightly tilted. In the best way.

 

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Queer PowerPoint – Unfunded Empathy

Part university lecture, part chaotic queer fever dream, Queer PowerPoint – Unfunded Empathy was an unexpectedly joyful deep-dive into the glorious absurdity of everyday life. From lamenting the lack of gay energy in the average car colour, to communing with the dearly departed via a wildly popular tarot deck (and the long-lost lesbian love story woven through it), the night was a celebration—for queer folk, allies, and anyone who enjoys a little whimsy with their wisdom.

It had everything: jokes, heart, and enough niche cultural references to fuel a Twitter thread for days. And while it leaned proudly into the queer experience, the humour, storytelling, and theatrical flair made it feel welcoming to everyone, regardless of who you love—or what bird facts you know.

Speaking of birds: massive kudos to the Auslan interpreter, who delivered a real-time masterclass in multitasking. One minute, signing an academic breakdown of sexy, polygamous bird behaviours; the next, seamlessly keeping pace with a high-camp diva dressed as a supernova, Russian accent and all, describing—in great detail—why hyenas would be the chosen survivors of a cosmic purge. (For the record: it’s their sheer commitment to shrieking in the face of doom.)

It was chaotic. It was brilliant. And it was so much more fun than your average PowerPoint presentation.

 

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Confessions, Shadows, and Echoes of Tokyo

Finally, dotted throughout the Big Top Shopping Centre were a few interactive gems—Confashional, Tokyo Rain, and Shadowgram—each inviting a different kind of participation. Optional, yes. Encouraged? Absolutely.

Whether you found yourself attending a pseudo-sermon to confess your fashion sins (a safe space to admit to that one time you wore crocs unironically), printing your literal shadow and sticking it to a wall alongside your thoughts on the future of Maroochydore, or wandering through an eerily beautiful installation inspired by 1980s Japan, these pieces asked us to slow down and consider the things we usually scroll past—forgotten stories, overlooked identities, and the quiet poetry of being seen.

 

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Final Thoughts

Sadly, due to scheduling, we were only able to explore the Maroochydore offerings. But the Horizon Festival stretched across the entire region—from Nambour to Alexandra Headlands, Caloundra to Coolum Beach—and if what we experienced is anything to go by, there’s a whole lot more worth coming back for.

Huge thanks to the Horizon Festival team for helping cover travel and dinner at JUNK (the massaman curry, by the way—chef’s kiss), but rest assured: all thoughts, confessions, and unexpected spiritual bird awakenings are entirely our own.

 

Review & Imagery: Joanna Letic