Where does the lamb drink? What is your poison? Milk or blood? Cyclic nourishment, but what are they feeding you? La funtanella, the little fountain, reflects the shadow behind an identity – an intersection of the pieces that collectively construct, collectively collapse, you. Innocence is a radical position. Vulnerability implies power. Fragility implies weight. Blades carve, blunt edges score, but radiation melts. You change, ride, die (a little bit). I bathe in sound, rhythm. Inner melodies collide, in out of tune repertoires. Rules forged by sensation – rules – more like guidelines. You’re breaking the law, or you are just… broken. The juncture between sensible and intangible. The biggest lie of memory is that it feels true. This must be where the lamb drinks.
We acknowledge and pay respect to the Traditional Owners of the lands upon which our campus is situated, the Boonwurrung and Woiwurrung people of the Kulin Nations, 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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