The University of Melbourne has proposed drastic changes to the School of Forestry in Creswick, which would see a majority of classes relocated from the historic campus to Parkville. The move follows declining enrolments in recent years, and forestry courses being shut down nationwide.
Two plainclothes police officers allegedly asked for UniMelb apparel to “blend in and look more like students” at Union House in late July, according to a staffer of the University of Melbourne Student Union (UMSU).
Have you ever wondered what it’s like to transfer into a course at UniMelb? Are you not getting much fun out of accounting or Habermas? Well, you’re in luck, because you can transfer either as a University of Melbourne student or from a rival university.
This is a humblebrag, but we’re really proud of ourselves and every single contributor to Farrago, Radio Fodder, Farrago Video and Above Water this year.
Results for the 2018 University of Melbourne Student Union (UMSU) election have now been finalised after a tense period of vote recounts and appeals. The results, most of which are similar to 2017 with Stand Up! sweeping the office bearer (OB) positions, are the closest in recent years with many being determined by fewer than 50 votes.
So, no, I do not have a white name. I wish other non-white people didn’t either. Our names are beautiful. They speak of our roots, cultures, homes we so dearly love. I would rather repeat my name thrice than cut it to make someone else more comfortable.
Queers are outraged about the proposed regulation of poppers—and the restriction of its recreational use. And rightly so. The arguments against these regulations are convincing—it’s your body and your choice to ingest whatever substance you like. But every new prohibition on social behaviours comes from somewhere and we should ask what made regulating poppers possible in the first place, to properly critique these immoral policies.
Demitra Lazarakis on why education matters to her Art by Nicola Dobinson I remember a moment vividly from when I was around 15 years old. I had spent the afternoon with my grandparents— Grandma Cornelia and Grandpa George, γιαγιά and παππού in Greek. On this particular day, I noticed one of my grandma’s […]
Shakespeare once said, “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet.” Although, he was probably referring to white names because we all know that Rose rolls off the tongue a lot easier than Mishti does.
IMAGE by David Zeleznikow-Johnston FOR by Lockout Lockheed Students at the University of Melbourne ought to be informed about a lot of things. First, that their university is making secretive deals with transnational arms manufacturers like Lockheed Martin and BAE. Second, that these partnerships incentivise war by institutionalising and normalising the presence of weapons […]
Close your eyes and accept the tug. Crunch the numbers and you’ll be safe. But the tangible dangers of collision aren’t what I distrust. It is the stasis of what it lacks that makes me uneasy. It will always be an eerie pull that I can only see in my messy calculations, only existing inside my head.
When the memories flood through her skin
like milk – when you pour it into porridge,
Her world melts.
Listening to X only after he’s dead
Capitalising on vintage Woolworths’ plastic bags
Remixing washed out lo-fi vinyls from Savers
I took aim, and released.
Mushroom clouds snapped apart;
a wafer-thin crunch,
a child treading on dry leaves,
dust gliding aimlessly against light.
The booth is fashioned out of rusty corrugated iron. It sits in Mon Pop Gallery, a pop-up space on the fake-grass patio opposite the Melbourne Uni tram stop; an area students habitually ignore. Facetiously resembling an outhouse, the booth stands tall; a placard informs us this is an impermanent fixture, an installation by the Asian-Australian artist Siying Zhou. On the back a sign reads ‘Karaoke Bar for Our National Anthem’ in a hokey ‘oriental’ font, which conjures the memory of sweet and sour pork, over-floured and roughly fried. Resting on a wooden platform, the booth is wide enough for just one person to comfortably stand inside.
I open the door, pulling on a golden tasselled rope that hangs where the doorknob should be. Red carpet is stapled to the floor, and cheap gold paper lines the walls. The place is cheaply reminiscent of a KTV lounge I once visited in Beijing, sans the smoke that gutted the place. A lone microphone hangs down from the ceiling, frozen in an eternal mic drop. The television screen, the centrepiece of every karaoke outing, is mounted on the wall.
“Start in 1 minute!” the screen declares. I put on the pair of headphones hanging from the wall, and wait.
Placed on an external wall of the ERC Library at Parkville, Power/Play’s large vinyl billboard greets you with open arms and uterine glee on entry to the campus. In the image, a worker is shoved into the lower left corner, a cleaning woman with mop in hand speaking silently to the marginalized voices of lower waged and predominantly part-time work of women, especially of immigrants, women of colour and single mothers. Two youthful exuberant women dominate the centre of the work, forming central core imagery in the cosmic space between them. Emblazoned on the dress of the central figure is the face of a goddess from antiquity, her eyes staring out like naked breasts. It’s a riff on #freethenipple and the constant policing of women’s bodies. “Plus it’s funny,” says Kelly. These women have all the optimism of youth, yet are dressed in 60’s fashion. Are these abandoned dreams? Along with the dashed declarations of “No Fees”, how long must we hold onto hopes of emancipation?
At either side of the central banner are two light boxes with the text, “*which GIRLS” (at left) and “RULE THE WORLD” (to the right). The text references Beyoncé’s song ‘Run the World (Girls)’. The work invites questions: which girls? Who rules? Stroking the suffragette’s hair, a trans woman’s hand reaches in. Which women? Cis women, trans women, women of colour? Where is the image of Wurundjeri women, upon whose unceded land this artwork is installed? The question of who is excluded is powerfully evoked by Kelly who with surgical precision collages notions of power and privilege along with intersecting tensions in which we too may be complicit.
Viewed separately, each frame depicts a moment where the pre-existing social landscape is either challenged or laid bare, prompting shifts in its underlying structures, assumptions and foundations. Viewed in succession, they represent the shaping of a collective history. Each encounter, from mundane to monumental, is part of a wider cultural context that traverses social, generational and temporal borders.
The flexibility of borders and boundaries is mirrored by the environment of the work. The area surrounding the New Student Precinct construction has become a labyrinth of shifting passageways (like Hogwarts, but with more temporary fences). The ten discs have been mounted, dismounted and remounted according to the fluctuating boundaries of the construction site. It seems an appropriate location for a work dealing closely with change, and the reconstruction of social and historical foundations.
Although the stories are set in and around the University campus, they are not (necessarily) about the University itself. Instead, the University acts as a point of intersection between people of varied occupations, interests and social backgrounds. Personal paths cross on political boundaries, converging and diverging in unexpected ways. In one frame, the University’s cafeteria workers stage a successful protest against the homophobic expulsion of Terry Stokes, a graduate student. In another, student rallies lead to the release of a Union leader imprisoned for industrial action. These interventions traverse social barriers, emphasising that no event within a community occurs in isolation. Although students, workers and unionists occupy vastly different roles within (or outside of) the University framework, the effects of discrimination and political silencing are universal.
The idea is not that the institutions or current structures are inherently oppressive, but that they tend towards stagnation. Their force lies in upholding values, not generating new ones. When changes need to be made, momentum must come from the people that populate them¬¬. Through Wallman’s ten frames, the University is presented as an institution in a constant state of revision. It is regenerated by extraordinary feats of activism, collective mobilisation and positive social change.
Don’t get me wrong, he still kills and maims in glorious fashion, it’s just that in his downtime, you’ll see him providing a running commentary on Eddie’s love life and loser status. Another impression of the symbiote you’ll likely have by the end of the film? Venom embodies that one bro who goads you into doing stupid shit. All of this amounts to a portrayal of the symbiote that I was pleasantly surprised by. He’s an enjoyable character to watch in his own right and his likability isn’t contingent on the traits of his host. Avoiding painting Venom as an all-consuming mass that takes away its host’s agency, the film instead gives you a more buddy-cop dynamic between symbiote and host, where the two banter, argue and learn off each other. This results in one of the film’s greatest strengths: getting you to root for a jacked-up alien with entirely too many teeth and a habit of eating human heads.
All of us know a class clown, with their witty comebacks and laughable one-liners at the ready, but Ethan Cavanagh took it to the next level when he took out the Melbourne Comedy Festival’s Class Clowns state finals and came runner-up in nationals in 2015.