I am haunted by the archive. By a desire to be as close as possible to the past; a need to understand the essence of a coin or a photograph. Who held it? Worked for it? Took it? Cherished it? I remember wandering through Rome and imagining that the morning chill would have felt the same for the people of the Empire. If so, are we all that different? Despite the strength of this desire, as I delve further into the archival strata, of photographing and collecting, the more distant my goal seems to be. So, eventually—lonely and caked in dust—I realise the paradox of the archive: it destroys even as it attempts to preserve. It is this space that interests me, that of the manufactured truth and plausible falsehoods.
We acknowledge and pay respect to the Traditional Owners of the lands upon which our campus is situated, the people of the Boon Wurrung and Woi Wurrung, who have created art, made music and told their stories here for thousands of generations. We also acknowledge and extend our respect to the Traditional Owners of all lands on which our work is viewed, shared and enjoyed, and to all Elders, past, present and emerging.
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