When I was a kid, I had no desire to go to university. My interests and sensibilities felt different – it wasn’t a place that was even on my radar. I’ve always drawn and planned on becoming a tattoo artist when I finished school.
By the time I finished Year 12, I had built an extensive portfolio of original artworks – which I thought would help me secure a tattooing apprenticeship. But it wasn’t until I did some work experience with my uncle at a TV station that I heard about animation, and in a frenzy of research I discovered a course at UTS that was starting up.
I was excited to find out that the course not only encouraged an exploration of styles (including some street art stop-motion, which was what first intrigued me) but, more importantly, emphasised the power of storytelling, the importance of independent filmmaking, and how animation can be a platform for unheard voices.
UTS was looking for storytellers, not necessarily impressive ATARs or people who wanted to pursue strictly commercial work. I interviewed and submitted a portfolio, and was accepted as part of the first 44 students to make up the Bachelor of Animation cohort. Lead by Deborah Szapiro and Damien Gascoigne, it was (and still is) one of the most unique animation courses in the country – with one of the highest ratios of Indigenous students and staff.
My time at UTS was great, but the costs of software and equipment in animation were (and still are) expensive. That meant I had to be on campus most of the time to get my work done, which was difficult as I was still living in Thirroul, a three-hour round trip.
If the upcoming UTS Indigenous Residential College (IRC) had existed back then, it would have made a huge difference. Living on campus would have solved the logistical challenges I faced but, more than that, I would have been supported and inspired by a community representing the full range of Indigenous academic excellence. Mob from all over – walking in two worlds – forging new paths in academia, with a foot firmly grounded in culture.
To embed yourself in tertiary education, Indigenous students often have to make the decision to leave behind their Country and community. The university experience can be incredibly unfamiliar and unforgiving – compounded by being placed in major cities with a vastly different pace of living. It can become overwhelming.
But to be placed among a collective of students, and within a college that celebrates, encourages and enhances the reach and potential of Indigenous excellence, is incredibly exciting and important for our emerging students. It will not only help Indigenous students to walk and prosper in both worlds, but will engage domestic and international communities in celebration of the oldest living culture on the planet, thriving in a modern world. In a place like this, our stories will be heard.
A lot of my family still live in Moree, including many younger cousins. It’s a small country town – and like many others, has a tumultuous history that’s fractured the community. It’s not a place that provides a lot of opportunities for Indigenous people, in terms of higher education or employment.
It will not only help Indigenous students to walk and prosper in both worlds, but will engage domestic and international communities in celebration of the oldest living culture on the planet.
When I’m up there – or my cousins come stay with us – I try to remind them, ‘There are so many opportunities for you to do what you want to do outside the big M. If you graduate from high school and want to go to university, there’s a place for you there, and there are programs that will support you. There are people there, like us, who will support you too.’
It’s important to show young mob that university is not completely foreign, or beyond reach. That although it might require a big move away from Country and away from community, a place like UTS’s IRC will provide a sense of belonging and familiarity while at university, by hosting a cohort of students who share not only the motivation to pursue new knowledges and opportunities, but also understand the difficulty in making such a commitment.
From this, I believe a new community will emerge – a far-reaching network of high-achieving Indigenous scholars, driven and capable of dismantling and re-building the many faulty systems this nation has been built on.
Something that excites me about the IRC is the cultural exchange between both permanent and visiting residents, on both a domestic and international scale. A global exchange of Indigenous culture – perspective, practice, language and thousand-year-old stories – spoken within the walls of the IRC. Contributors ranging from our Elders in residence, established academics, performers and emerging First Nations leaders. What a privilege, to host such a diverse pool of knowledge.
Something that excites me about the IRC is the cultural exchange between both permanent and visiting residents, on both a domestic and international scale.
How beautiful will it be to experience elements of this cultural exchange in the Indigenous Arts Centre? A space for performance, exhibition and immersive experiences that celebrate the fluidity of Indigenous creatives, working in both traditional ways and with advancing technology. It will become a central hub for proud Indigenous practitioners and educators to welcome public engagement and share our culture on a global scale.
Between the residential college and the arts centre, there is an opportunity to further develop, share and celebrate a great many things that are intrinsic to the identity of this country. By bringing Indigenous culture and value systems into contemporary spaces like UTS, I hope it also brings meaningful conversation and enacts impactful change.
Byline
Jake Duczynski is an animation director and lecturer at UTS, currently working on a comedy-satire about the return of Captain Cook as a ghost in 2020. Jake is also a member of the UTS Working Group for the Indigenous Residential College and the Indigenous Arts Centre. He has a Bachelor of Design in Animation (Hons, 2016) from UTS.