I was walking around the campus of Sydney Uni, minding my own business on the way back from a meeting regarding a festival held on the campus later this year, when fate stepped in …
Some beautiful organ music was escaping from the Great Hall. I stepped inside. Students lounged on bean bags – some working, some meditating, all wrapped in the soundscape delivered by university carillonist Titus Grenier, playing live for two whole hours. I walked out calm, clear-headed, and filled with a quiet love for the world.
Then, across the way, the Chau Chak Wing Museum caught my eye. I was reminded of a powerful photograph taken by Michelle Haywood for our May edition – it featured the exhibition Mungari: fishing, resistance, return at that very museum. I hadn’t yet visited the exhibition, but the time was now. It offers a deeply moving look at the return of the Gweagal Spears from England, and the stories surrounding them.
As luck would have it, one of the curators, David Johnson, was right there, giving a tour to his family. I shyly approached. He spoke with quiet pride and clarity about what the exhibition means to him and to community. We ended up talking about language, stories, the role of art. It was one of those unplanned moments that sticks with you.
Upstairs: a bonus find. Max Dupain at the University of Sydney/Student Life – a collection of photographs from his time on the campus. His architectural studies of the campus from the 1940s to 1980s are stunning, but it was the candid student life shots that really struck me: black-and-white windows into protests, friendships, curiosity, change.
To finish the day, I attended a talk by renowned Torres Strait Islander artist Alick Tipoti, marking Mabo Day. “My fire at home is burning strong,” he said. He spoke of recognition and pride, and the deep significance of language. “I don’t want people to think of me as art or dance. I want people to think of me as language.”
As I’m mulling over how lucky students are, I remember that the campus is open to everyone – even dog walkers and joggers. And the art? It’s everywhere, just waiting to be stumbled upon.
