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.
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.
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 […]
For the last six breakfasts, Annina has eaten bread with jam—a meal that tastes the same everywhere in the world— but today she can’t see either ingredient. The man behind her gives her an impatient nudge and Annina reaches for a strange yellow fruit at the edge of a platter. She tears the banana away from its identical siblings and holds it limply in her hand. It’s crescent-shaped with rubbery skin, like nothing she’s ever seen before. In her impoverished village, where a single orange is a recurring Christmas gift, tropical fruits are beyond a novelty; they’re nonexistent.
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
When the lights went back up and the actors stepped forward to take a bow, it was abrupt. It felt surreal to see all of them smiling and holding hands just moments after they were trying to get as far away from each other as possible. I walked out in a daze, my mind still racing to figure out what just happened.
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.
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?
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.
Overall, these three shows took me on a rollercoaster of a night I will remember for a long time. If you had some disposable income to spare, I highly encourage you to check out the other three shows as part of Sidesault at The Melba and see if any of them pique your interest. I guarantee it will be a unique experience that your childhood self would never have known a circus could be.