Laurence Coy

“Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up.” – Pablo Picaso said that.

Good afternoon graduates and please accept my heart felt congratulations on your achievements. Good afternoon also to the distinguished guests assembled here today – Pro-Chancellor Robert Kelly, Deputy Vice-Chancellor Anne Dwyer, Associate Dean from the Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences Professor Jim McNamara. Most importantly, I would like to acknowledge and pay respect to the traditional owners of the land on which we meet; the Cadigal people of the Eora Nation.

As we celebrate our own knowledge, teaching, learning and research practices here today, may we also pay respect to the knowledge embedded forever in the aboriginal custodianship of country. Now, lots of people say that sort of thing these days but today I really want you to think about it. For tens of thousands of years, culture has evolved, communities have been built, stories told, lessons learnt and standards set on or very near to the earth on which this building – this brutalist masterpiece is erected. Today, we sit somewhere near the tip of a massive cultural iceberg, except that this iceberg we’re all on, isn’t melting like all the other icebergs. Our one is growing; its tip is reaching further and further skywards as we move ever steadily towards and eventually below the water line and I think we’re foolish if we don’t learn something from the extraordinary mass of ice that floats beneath us, from the successes and errors of those that have gone before us. What’s even more foolish is to enslave one’s self to what’s gone before at the expense of finding one’s authentic voice.

“Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up.”

One of the great misfortunes about living in modern Australia, is that we have no peasant history to inform us culturally. In Europe, it seems that in every valley, every opposite side of the lake and every hill top, takes enormous pride in the particular way they prepare food or describe the landscape or marry each other or celebrate the seasons. They possess age old dialects and customs unique to and informed by their geography and history. Australia, on the other hand is established after the industrial revolution. We built our business structures around mono-cultures, economies of scale and international trade. We led the world in this practice and for many generations, it made us very proud and self-satisfied. It’s why today you can fly from Sydney to Perth, the distance from Jerusalem to New Delhi, From Washington to Reykjavik, from Hanoi to Kiev and you’ll be greeted with the same diet, the same clothing, the same architecture and the only difference in dialect is that you may be invited to a show instead of a party, or are required to understand the relative merits of an Eagle over a Docker as oppose to an Eel over a Rooster. Therein lies a huge challenge for your generation. You are going to be the decision makers, the storey tellers, and the culture builders of the future. But you’ve grown up in a political climate that’s bereft of cultural history. That’s placed economics over beauty, efficiency ahead of quality and uniformity above diversity. You’ve grown up in a culture that worships efficiency, proactivity, convenience, consistency and instant gratification.

On the other hand, one of the great blessings of living in modern Australia, is we’re not encumbered by antiquated by long standing hatred and biases that are founded in centuries old stories and myths. In most cases, the deepest animosities that exist in our culture have been born of recent political expedience and very often from the cynical desire for ratings of wealthy white shock jocks. They’re essentially, fictional and all of you assembled here today are going to have the opportunity to remedy this. You are charged with weaving a new tapestry for this country. I challenge you to use the knowledge and vigour that you poses, the skills and connections that you have developed over your time at this brilliant institution, your critical faculties to write and film and debate for a new mature sophisticated narrative for this nation. I further challenge you not to pander to the dominant discourse that seeks to diminish the individual. I put it to you that the ideas of a Bogan or a Christian or a refugee or a private school kid or a Rabbitoh’s fan or a Scorpio or an ABC listener or an advertising executive or a Tradie, or a pensioner or billionaire or a generation X is plain lazy. Also, lazy is defining and judging something or someone by what they’re not, particularly if that criterion is something that you are –  

All Liberal voters have no social conscience.
Gay people are a threat to society.
Catholic priests are…
Muslims never…
Trade unionists are all…
People who live in the inner west just love to…
Sciences are so much easier for…
Creative types are all…
Women are better at…
Asians are so good at…

I hope you’ve invested your time and your university fees wisely and therefore are sophisticated people with evolved nuance minds. I hope that you devote your professional and personal lives to being weary of black and white and exploring shades of grey.

“Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up.”

I think, one of the things that we love about travelling is the feeling of experiencing the most simple things for the first time. I remember walking through Manhattan in winter as a 23 year old. I still have the photos I took and they were of snow resting on park benches – Pretzel vendors puffing steam out of their mouths, people wearing fluffy little ear muffs and beautiful coats, a sign for a drug store and another one for root beer. I remember the accents of the shop keepers, the flavour of the $4 Matzah Ball soup and the lighting in the tiny café in which I ate at. I remember policeman on the beat and how serious they were when asked for directions. I actually asked several times for directions, even when I knew where I was going, just so that I have my own personal officer Krupke moment. Many native New Yorkers would have had none of those experiences that day. I dare say most of them would have been too busy going about their lives to have noticed the beauty of fresh snow on a pile of rubbish. Or the way steam rises out of man holes just the way it does in the movie Taxi Driver. Most of them miss the moment because they were watching the world through their grown-up lens. Or they were walking around asleep.

Remember when you were a kid starting school. Everything was so new and so stimulating – finding the classroom, then a desk, then seeing a teacher, then sitting next to a stranger, learning the routine, how to use the tuck shop. I distinctly remember seeing a urinal for the first time and freaking out. Then there are all the new people, all the varied shapes and faces and hair colour and skills and interests and voices and ways of making eye-contact and gestures. Life is rarely that stimulating.

In my professional practice, I work with some of the toughest, ruthless, dedicated athletes in the world. When I was a young bloke, I’d have laughed at your face if you told me that people like this were afraid of anything. They are marketed as being fearless, and in many respects, they are. They can maintain composure and technique when Sam Burges is running at them with steam coming out of his ears or when Mitchell Johnson has threatened to knock their block off and he’s running in, eyes a flame. But believe me; I haven’t met one of them that wasn’t terrified of something. Mostly, it’s giving a 5 minute speech to a bunch of school children. And it’s interesting that the ones that are the best competitors on the field are the ones who are firstly committed to overcoming their fears but more importantly, they set about tackling their problem with creativity and tenacity. They’re prepared to fail brilliantly.

If you’re anything like me, when I graduated from this place, you’re probably experiencing a combination of all the feelings I’ve just mentioned. Life has never been more fertile with opportunity, or more terrifying. You’ve never felt more prepared and less ready to leap into the next phase of our life. Take a moment to acknowledge your emotional condition right now. Restate your dreams to yourself. Ask yourself, “If everything goes to plan, where do I want to be in 15 years?” In a month or so, when the gloss has worn off today, and you have to drag yourself out into the word to build a career, remember today, remember your dreams. Reconnect with the passion that is in your heart today. When there’s a list of phone calls to make and the list of probably knock backs, when you make them. Remind yourself what you wanted on the 29th April 2016 and make those calls. And when you break through, and your career starts rolling and you’re surrounded by mediocre bludgers who have lost their passion and are marking time. Don’t join their ugly dance. Remember today. Remind yourself of how curious you are and what a privilege it is to earn a living doing something you really care about. And in 15 years’ time, when you’re mid-career and it seems even more crowded than when it was at the bottom, remember today. Remember why you started out. Keep looking for new ways of doing things. Keep seeing shades of grey. And then when you are what you now consider old, probably 40 – a leader in your craft, an elder – remember today as the iceberg rises above you and water line approaches from beneath. Remember today. Remind yourself of your passion for your field of endeavour and gracefully make way for those who are following you. Encourage emerging talent. Listen to young people. Give someone the break that today you are hoping that someone’s going to give you. Check in with yourself about the journey you’ve taken from today until that point. And ask yourself how you’ve contributed to the profession, over the previous decades. See what you’ve learnt and see what you’ve taught others. How much have you given and how much have you taken. There are too many elders that have lost their curiosity and passion. They fear someone who might prove to be better than they are. Their world has closed in around them, leaving them at the centre of it. The poor blighters think they’re at the top of the iceberg. It’s a tempting, easy choice. But please, don’t let that happen to you. I wish you all the very best of luck and the wisdom to make something of it. Thank you.