Togatus is published by the TUU State Council on behalf of the Tasmania University Union (henceforth known as â€œthe publishersâ€?) It is understood that all submissions to Togatus are the intellectual property of the contributor. However, the publishers reserve the right to reproduce material on the Togatus website at togatus.com.au Togatus Team: Editor-in-Chief: Joe Brady Deputy Editor: Logan Linkston Publication Director: Monte Bovill Creative Director: Maddie Burrows Graphic Designer: Liam Johnson Foreign Correspondent: Bethany Green Togatus welcomes all your contributions. Please email your work and ideas to firstname.lastname@example.org Edition 1, 2019 Contributors: Dan Prichard, Elise Sweeney, Joseph Schmidt, Joshua Scott, Lizzie Dewis, LJ Parks, Mackenzie Stolp, Megan Oliver, Miles Kahles, Norah Wenrui Wu, Rainer Curcio Online Contributors as of April 2019: Lili Koch, Zoe Stott The opinions expressed herein are not those of the editors, the publishers, the University of Tasmania, or the Tasmania University Union. Reasonable care is taken to ensure that Togatus articles and other information are up-to-date and as accurate as possible at the time of publication, but no responsibility can be taken by Togatus for any errors or omissions. Contact Togatus: Website: togatus.com.au Facebook: @TogatusOnline Twitter & Instagram: @togatus_ Post: PO Box 5055, UTAS LPO, Sandy Bay 7005 Email: email@example.com Contribute: firstname.lastname@example.org Advertise: email@example.com Togatus is printed by Monotone Art Printers.
4 4 The Bones of the Sandy Bay Campus The S.C.A.M. of Hunter Street
8 10 12 14 16 18
Yo Togatu u s: Ed Ar itio e n 1, He 201 re 9
A. Swayze and the Ghosts at Hobart Brewing Co.
6 20 22 24
26 28 Making Utopia
30 32 34 AusVotes The Tassie Podcast Conquering the Charts /r/incels Out There
36 38 40 42 44 46 48
“If you couldn't change your name, what would it be?”
Contributors Mackenzie Stolp
Norah Wenrui Wu
Elise Sweeney Joseph Schmidt Lizzie Dewis Megan Oliver Norah Wenrui Wu
Lili Koch Zoe Stott
Togatus Team Editor-in-Chief
Editorials Editor-in-Chief Joe Brady
The humble editorial faces an existential threat — no one reads them, and the people who write them have nothing of value to say. Yet, as UTAS barrels on towards its ideal campus (picture brains in jars, but with expensive textbooks), I’d wager there will be more students with something to say. And that’s what Togatus is here for. With a fresh coat of optimism and an editorial team of new and old, I’m proud to present the first edition of Togatus for 2019. Our theme for this one is ‘New Lands’. There’s plenty of inspiration around these days — new university campuses, a new year of beloved celebrity deaths and new oceans to explore as coastal cities relocate to below sea level. It’s the wonder of the times we live in! It’s more
than just millennial angst, too — we’ll find new friends, new opportunities, and new things about yourself you never knew were there. We’re all on that same path towards self-actualisation. Keep at it, you’re doing great. You know what makes me happy? Writing. You know who publishes writing, art, and photography? Togatus. Get on it. We can’t get enough of the stuff you guys come up with. This year’s bound to be packed with blisteringly cool editions, shocking recipes and maybe a few sneaky surprise editions, too. It’s going to be a lot of work, but a lot of fun. Hopefully we’ll see you there. Keep on keeping on.
— Big Chief Editor
Avocado Treasure Hunt! The mysterious Captian Odacova has hidden a grand bounty right under your nose and within it, a treasure trove of riches! The bounty is none other than glorious avocados, and the riches, well they're bragging rights. You'll need a keen eye and a sharp hook to uncover them all. Here's some advice, trust me, you'll need it: Avocados cannot hide in the fine print of articles, the likes of which you are reading right now. They simply wouldn't fit. But anything else is fair game. The mischievous little fruits are commonly found pear-shaped with a pip in the centre. However, do not be taken for a fool my friend. The rare avocados take far more difficult forms so treat anything unusual with suspicion.
Alright, alright, alright. There’s a new editorial team in town, and I could not be more excited to be Deputy Editor this year — even though chances are y’all could not care less about the editorial team or my title. If you’ve picked up a copy of Tog in the last two years, you may recognise my name from the fact that I never shut up about crime and have written an obscene amount of crime articles for the magazine. But hey, I’ll take any chance to use my two degrees of journalism and criminology and I’ll shamelessly use our student media publication to do it. I encourage y’all to do the same. We are the voices of student rebellion and will defend your right to eat avocado on toast til we die. More importantly, we’ll use the avocado as our brand identity for years to come. Anyways. Here’s edition one. It has a broad theme of “New Lands” and the content will not disappoint — we have got people speaking out about the university’s move to figurative new lands, and we have got articles covering how humans have destroyed our current literal land. We don’t discriminate here. We aim to please.
Dear fellow procrastinators, It’s a new year, and revolution is in the air. As students of the University of Tasmania, we are floating in the suspense for what’s to come. Whether you’ve heard it or not, big changes are coming. Togatus is here to take this ride with you, to be your guide, your friend, and as always; your procrastination bible. We are taking you on an adventure between safety and the unknown, and building bridges to new lands. Edition one was born from a focus on exciting changes, innovative environments, reinvented locations, and transformation in spaces. As Creative Director and head of the design team, I had the joy of bringing these ideas together with our graphic designer. We are pleased to launch 2019 with the colourful beacon which you hold in your hands right now. I hope you find it inspiring, provoking, and perhaps a little unusual. Let us lead you to worlds unknown. Leave no stone unturned.
Hmm, it seems there are
avocados in this edition! Note: The one under the magnifying glass on the left there doesn't count.
The Bones of the Sandy Bay Campus Joe Brady There is something about a very specific type of architecture that holds a private nostalgia for people around my age, and it’s not all that easy to communicate. It is linoleum, and cheap, and indifferent to your presence. It predates your existence as a person, and this in itself is slightly humbling as a kid; to understand that you are one generation of many to walk these halls. It is institutional without dignity, monumental without heritage. I write about those mid-century schools nestled in old suburbs all throughout Tasmania. You know the kind — brick or wood siding, with wooden desks and a bank of windows on one side overlooking the yard or footy pitch. In the windows, art and school projects partially block the view. One of the old classrooms has been fitted with miserable Dell desktops. Some initiative of the Federal Government might have donated your classroom an absurd luxury — a ‘smart whiteboard’ or projector to modernise your otherwise distinctly retro surrounds. This is not the most noble crucible of youth and learning — it’s distinctly post-war, cheap, and optimistic.
I can’t be the only one who harboured a small amount of resentment at just how blatant these new buildings were pandering to me as a child. How that sort of architecture, designed around and intended for children, only further segregates childhood from adult life and condemns our learning years as a secure incubator, untouched by exploration and imitation of the adult world. Childhood already is defined by marketable aesthetics — kids have their own styles of clothes, appropriate toys for distinct stages of development and media categorised by age. Why not architecture? The real identity of ‘child’ is more physical than ever before. In some ways, your baby is just a small human until you clothe it, buy it toys and put it in a school.
To people of my age, with a step into their second decade of life, these postwar buildings recognise a sort of childhood that emerged on the cusp of our contemporary connected world, which would soon revolutionise the very concept of childhood with tablets and smart learning and openplanned desk arrangements. It also preceded a new era of education architecture that is painfully desperate to please students — clad in bright colour, with carpeted floors and desks on wheels. More natural light, less right angles, more prefab, less brick.
It was recently announced that the University would be seeking student input on the future of UTAS and the Sandy Bay campus. There are two visions competing here: a total relocation of the University into the heart of the city (along Melville St), or a split campus that distributes faculties between Sandy Bay and the city, similar to the
Moving this idea of identity twenty years along, is it any wonder that the previously cold and institutional spaces of a mid-century university are also rapidly changing to encourage distinctly modern ambitions — connectivity, spontaneousness, innovation, collaboration?
Make no mistake: the Sandy Bay campus we see today is dying, either way. Present buildings and infrastructure, some of which you may be reading this in, will be demolished. Even the split campus solution, so the University says, would require reconstruction of almost all of Sandy Bay's current learning facilities. After all, these buildings are asbestic, dilapidated and cheaplymade. The floods last year only made things worse. Nonetheless, buildings are coded with cultural significance. The landscape of the Sandy Bay campus is more than aesthetic — it links the soul of the studentry to the landscape around them, and cements our identity as a cohort of students. It is in the markings of institution that we feel at school — classrooms, with desks, and conferencing facilities offer an aesthetic reality that help make up the total ‘university experience’. To me, the old Sandy Bay buildings remind me that UTAS is ostensibly an institution, and not just a cash-handy collective of business schools. Because, for all the splendour and wonder of my new media campus, that’s sort of what it feels like — a business school I visit a few days a week, hyper-focused and pleasantly efficient in getting me a qualification suitable for the workforce. And if this is how you see university, I guess that’s just fine; you’re paying
tens of thousands for a degree — let’s just go in and get it so you can move on into the next chapter of life. Perhaps I'm a little too eager in eulogising the campus — these campus-wide changes are not going to be soon or instantaneous. I’m sure the plans the university are drafting are founded on good intention and common sense — we are a very different university than we were sixty years ago. Yet the vague sense of decay remains. I don’t think I’m alone in understanding the Sandy Bay campus has soul, forged in a tradition of education and manifested physically in buildings that predate us, that encourage a sense of broader community irreplaceable by #UTASLife. The old SocSci, Life Sciences and Chemistry buildings were constructed in a time of growth and optimism for the future. Perhaps we’re undergoing that cycle again — because the future has changed. The vision of sixty years ago will be a memory, and so too will my admiration and connection to UTAS. I understand most won’t feel as I do about these dilapidated, asbestos-ridden mid-century relics. But I think it would be a real shame to die without a eulogy, and that’s what I’m giving it. I will miss the Social Sciences, Chemistry and Life Sciences buildings long after I’ve graduated, long after they’ve been reduced to memory.
awkward transitional state we find ourselves in today. All of it makes sense when the facts are added up — of course it does. The administration have recognised the nature of university is changing. The old mid-century relics of the Sandy Bay campus, which I have an unjustifiable nostalgia for, will be the first victims of this recognition.
of Hunter Street Maddie Burrows
“Where are our teachers?” “Why is no one talking to us?” “Why aren’t you listening to us?” “The art school is a joke.” These were the pleas and frustrated statements that echoed the sandstone walls of the art school in 2018. This was my final year studying on the arts campus, which I once thought of as a pink palace of creative collaboration. But for myself and others who attended the institution over those toxic twelve months, it was the year of unrest: the year of student dropouts, staff cuts and collective frustration. The School of Creative Arts and Media (which was once ironically shortened to the acronym SCAM), rapidly mutated from a respected education facility to a place of scandal, investigations, student protests and institutional disgrace after serious concerns and issues became publicly known. During 2018 there were several periods of time where there was no Head of School. Students were left with a revolving door of people acting as the Head, who were inadequately prepared to deal with the serious issues. This lack of management and public face for students to speak with made it impossible to get any trustworthy answers from the institution about our concerns.
It became known to students in semester two that there was an ongoing investigation, which impeded several quite senior members of staff from doing their jobs, and this was shrouded in secrecy. Word of the investigation spread to outside the university, to the point where uninvolved Hobartians were asking me and my peers, "What on Earth is going on at Hunter Street?". I tried to piece together a convoluted mess of rumours and whispers, and met up with former Art School Student Rep, Abbie Rothery, and asked her what she thought were the main changes and issues occuring at the school. “We started to hear that technicians' hours would be changed and decreased, that our studio time would be even further limited.” In Abbie’s opinion the changes in technician staffing were “most likely budget cuts proposed under Peter Rathjen's leadership when Kit Wise was our Head of School.” One of the biggest fears for students was the possibility of losing essential technical support staff. These staff work in all areas of Fine Arts, and oversee working with advanced machinery, industrial printers, specialist studios and any practise that requires expert supervision. They also serve as industry professionals with whom the students can seek invaluable guidance about their projects. Without access to crucial staff, students are unable to continue their creative practise because without supervision, the equipment and spaces are off limits.
RIP Art School
“…it was the year of unrest: the year of student dropouts, staff cuts and collective frustration.”
Students spoke the names of their loved technicians as a plea to save their jobs and to relay the importance of these teachers to their degrees. Tony responded with the unbelievable line; “The names of these people is irrelevant.”
The school held information sessions in an attempt to manage students’ rising suspicions before things got out of hand. It didn’t take long before these small sessions of just a few students in a quiet classroom, grew to a full lecture theatre of protesting, complete with banners, arm bands and shouting.
An anonymous student responded, “You mention that there are conversations that go on, but we haven’t been part of it at all. We have paid our fees, and things have changed, but we have not been consulted. We are not treated with respect. Our future lives depend on what’s happening right now. I work in metal, and have planned a big project, and now I don’t know if I can continue that project due to the fact teachers may be fired. We have all had a lot of frustration — I can’t do what I wanted to do because of the uncertainty.”
In August, Tony de Silva (acting Head of Faculty during that particular month) held a Q&A seminar with students. He began the session by stating he was new to the role, and unaware of the depth of issues occurring at the campus. Immediately, students began voicing their fears. Tony responded by stating that students “have had access to the technicians whenever they want, but that’s not necessarily a good thing. They are overworked, and that is not good.”
This situation compromised students’ projects and research and led to conflicts of interests on assessment panels, which in turn, decimated the sculpture studio. There were huge impacts on the mental health and relationships of students, made worse by the constant misinformation and distrust of the university.
An honours student from sculpture stood and said, “We understand that UTAS is a business and needs to hire people who will be good at their jobs. But there is also an expectation from students that we get what we’ve paid for in our degree.”
After the unsuccessful meetings, we realised how little sympathy UTAS had for its staff. An anonymous group of students created a petition to publicly voice their fears. ‘The Collective Concerns’ document was posted on corridor walls, the back of toilets, and shared between students in classes. The truth was out, and everyone knew not only about the art school issues, but also the inadequate communication from UTAS higher-ups. Key issues outlined in the petition were the uncertainty of technical staff members’ jobs, the suspension of essential teaching staff in the sculpture department, the lack of kindness given to students after appropriately lodged complaints were made, and concern for a ‘culture of political manoeuvring within the staffing body’. It also acknowledged the devastation felt in the student body when at least two staff members were suspended from teaching for the pending investigation, leaving the entire sculptural honours cohort without a supervisor at the halfway mark of their year-long projects. An anonymous third year student confirmed to me that “issues in the second semester meant that all but one of those honours students dropped out or deferred.” The first round of the petition was delivered via email to UTAS Management in early November with over 220 signatures. According to those who wrote the petition, the signatures continued to climb, which led to a massive amount of momentum for the cause. The Mercury and ABC began to contact students for further info and suddenly, the Art School was in a very public spotlight. After ‘The Collective Concerns’ was published more information sessions were held including one where Tony de Silva returned to speak, accompanied by Professor Kate Darian Smith, The Executive Dean of The College of Arts, Law and Education. Kate spoke of the University’s complete unwillingness to comment on or provide any transparency around the matters affecting the art school. She spoke of 'natural justice' and, in particular, protecting the suspended teachers’ privacy. Her statements exuded incompetence and self-interest. However, UTAS has not protected anyone, but instead has chosen to save face in almost every situation. The University needs to take responsibility by reviewing the ethics and inadequacies of their actions. Images: Maddie Burrows
Once again, students were left with no trustworthy answers on how their studies would progress. Kate
RIP Art School
“To this day, no apology has been given from UTAS to the affected students…” promised students at this meeting there would be communication once the investigation was resolved, and a formal apology would follow. To this day, no apology has been given from UTAS to the affected students, and instead they remain left with massive honours degree debts and no alternative for fine arts degrees in Tasmania. In a spectacular rupture from the institution, a group of students who dropped out, deferred or were compromised by the unexplained loss of their supervisor made their own graduate exhibition. 'Dishonours' was held at Visual Bulk gallery in Hobart. At the event, the students toasted “a cheers for our wider art student community, a nod to the Hobart ripple effect, a salute to progressive artistic practice, and a rally for critical dialogue.” Today, the conversation continues in lecture theatres… “What happened?” “Did any good come from all this heartache?”. It seems few people have any idea. But my advice for current art students is this: When they don’t listen, speak louder. Make good art and don’t be afraid to stand up for what is right. We own our education, not the institution.
Lizzie Dewis First Year | Bachelor of Education (Primary) (All) Untitled, 2018 I have used geometric shapes to frame and celebrate the smaller animals and insects that are often missed in day to day life. Use of watercolour, riso printing, gold leaf and gold paint pens.
Con Descending LJ Parks
The new Conservatorium of Music building is nearing completion, and students and staff alike seem eager to be rid of the current one. But this first-year believes there’s still life in the old building yet. The Conservatorium of Music is still largely uncharted territory for me. I’ve never ventured past the second floor, primarily because I haven’t the need, but also out of fear. Who knows what lies between the Admin level and the top floor Music Library? Probably just practice rooms and staff offices, but I’m not quite brave enough to find out. Even though I’m new to the building, I can still understand why everyone is so excited to move to the swanky new Hedberg next year. For one, the acoustics in the recital hall are awful. Why somebody thought concrete walls were a great idea is beyond me — even just snapping your fingers produces a hideous, hollow echo that sounds like the single *click* has had its life drained and is rasping for mercy. There is no mercy when you’re surrounded by walls with the texture of cinder blocks. The practice rooms aren’t much better. I’ve used them a few times and I honestly believe the acoustics are better in the student apartments. I’d like to apologise to my roommates for this unfortunate situation.
The best space I have encountered in the Con so far is probably the main recording studio. I’m there often for songwriting and recording classes and the space is decked out with nice equipment, a daunting (yet epic) looking mixing desk, and is wired to other rooms in the building. Meaning that as long as you’re wired to the studio, you can record out of any room you choose. There are also these huge studio windows looking out into the recital hall. Evidently you could record live performances in there directly from the studio… but why you would want to, considering the aforementioned acoustic issues, is beyond me. Enough audio nerd talk. Another thing I’ve noticed is that almost everyone working or studying at the Con seems to have some kind of grudge against the old building. Most of us are still grateful that we have a space to learn and practice at all, but it seems like everyone still feels some kind of resentment towards the space. Poor acoustics and the dated architecture are common complaints. People lament how small and few the teaching spaces are, meaning that we only have enough resources to hold smaller classes and very few can run at the same time. For whichever reason, undergrads, postgrads and staff alike can’t wait to get the hell out of here, and never look back. With all of this in mind, I still don’t understand what the big deal is. I agree that the building has its flaws (did I mention the shitty acoustics?), but there’s nothing about this building that’s all that bad. The interiors may be dated, but in a nostalgic way they’re still warm and comforting. Most of the facilities we have are fine — nobody really needs a high quality recording studio unless they’re recording something for assessment, so
Concentric having a space to practice is beyond valuable. Why is it that when somebody brings up the topic of the building being old, I must witness the light leave someone’s eyes as they groan internally (and externally) in frustration? Maybe it’s because I’m fresh on the block, but everybody seems to be so jaded for no good reason. And then there’s this new building. I’ve heard so many good things about it, and admit it does sound amazing, but my primary concern is that we’ll be facing the same issues again in several years (provided Hobart isn’t underwater, but that’s a topic for another time). With rapid advancements in modern technology, there is always going to be something new and exciting in terms of audio gear and architectural design. This new building may feel “new” for longer than the old Con did, but I can guarantee with time future students and staff will be just as jaded as we are now. Humanity as a whole always wants new stuff in larger quantities more regularly, so even the pinnacle of modern music-making facilities is going to become dated at some point in time. People will then be complaining about how the acoustics in the recital halls aren’t as good as the latest innovations or how the architecture is daggy and old fashioned — after all, wasn’t this old building once new and exciting itself? Can you guess what we’ll do then? We’ll build another damned Con, because the old one won’t be good enough anymore.
Joseph Schmidt Second Year | Bachelor of Fine Arts (Drawing Major) Total Distortion, 2018 I have been intrigued by Henri Matisseâ€™s collage prints using shapes. I attempted to bring that into my work by inking torn pieces of paper and printing. The distorted classical guitar has contour lines that flow against the grain of the wood, accentuating the distortion image dialogue.
Megan Oliver First Year | Bachelor of Arts Message in a Bottle, 2019 By throwing away our rubbish where it doesn’t belong, we are throwing away our environment. We tell ourselves it doesn’t matter; that one piece of litter won’t hurt. But if 7.7 billion people all do the same, then very soon, the natural world around us will be destroyed. Beauty we take for granted will be hidden in piles of plastic and the only thing that can stop this is you.
A. Swayze and the
Ghosts at Hobart Brewing Co. Miles Kahles Out from the depths of another snarling verse, Andrew Swayze grabbed me by the tufts of my hair and dragged me onto the stage; a casual abduction from the sea of sweat and frenzy. As I lay there in a field of wires, spilt beer, squashed banana and amps, I was serenaded by the howls and spit of the man himself, screaming back at him his bullish mania of words. It was over in an instant, and back I was thrown into the ebb and flow of the crowd. This was a gig typical of the punk genre; my knees and joints were thoroughly bruised and beaten over the course of the night, as the wild thrashing of the crowd treated me as a mere tower of limbs. But within it there was an air of respect, lingering in our hedonistic joy. There didn’t seem to be any testosterone-filled skinheads here, looking for punching bags to their inbuilt rage. No, as drummer Zac Blain would no doubt hope, us fans were — by accident or not — a reflection of A. Swayze and his Ghosts’ attitude. Socially aware, passionate and just a little bit conscious of the greater scheme of things. So, as the psychedelic riffs of their hit single ‘Suddenly’ came ringing through the pub, there was a remarkable sense of togetherness. The song was written as an examination of gender inequality in Australia today, and utilises a woman’s
perspective, namely Andrew Swayze’s wife Olivia, to detail day-to-day examples of such discrimination. There is an overriding sense of urgency, angst and pressing fear in the song, as the protagonist attempts to console the expectations of her as a woman; how she should smile, act and react to the demands of others. With the tragic and senseless deaths of women such as Eurydice Dixon occurring over the past year or so, the chorus of “suddenly, I’m dead” strikes a familiar chord of danger and caution. For many, whether walking home alone at night or even in the sanctity of one’s own home, there are valid reasons to be afraid, reasons that depend significantly on the gender of an individual. As a male, I have to venture outwardly to consider the fear that someone of the opposite gender would experience in my place when walking through the reserve after a night out. I have seen them before, and I will see them again, but Andrew Swayze and his ghosts will always stir up an excitement in me. Their unmistakable dynamism and sass ring true with many of us today, as the uncertainty and injustices of our modern age remain prevalent. We match this with compassion and action; along with a little bit of dry humour, apathy and pleasure-seeking.
Norah sat down with Ben Simms to talk about their new adventure and life in Hobart Norah Wenrui Wu After giving a powerful live performance at Hobart Brewing Co. on March 15th, A. Swayze and the Ghosts are still on tour in New South Wales and Queensland. The band has performed several headline shows around Australia after releasing their new single ‘Suddenly’ in September 2018. Formed by lead singer Andrew Swayze with Zac Blain, Hendrick Wipprecht, and Ben Simms, A. Swayze and the Ghosts is probably the most well-known band founded in Hobart. The four members grew up in Tassie, and the state has treated them well, as our beautiful natural landscape nurtured their creativity in music. Getting the chance to talk to bassist Ben Simms in his university office during the afternoon, with an odd academic vibe in the air, is an unconventional yet pleasant experience. We talked about his view on being a musician in Hobart and how punk music has influenced this city.
“The idea of punk is that people are just going up on the stage and having fun. In Hobart, mainly because we are a small place, we don’t have to compete with millions of other bands,” Ben says. “I think Hobart is amazing. It’s not a big city, but that’s probably why it helps. We can still go to Melbourne and Sydney, experience those cities. Hobart is beautiful, the people are really friendly… it’s a bit slower, but that’s the kind of thing that I enjoy.” Ben has a positive perspective on living in the island state. Even though it could be a double-edged sword, he feels the pros outweigh the cons. “I see the isolation as a good thing,” he says. “Because we are away from the other parts of Australia and the rest part of the music world, we can cut loose the business side of it. We don’t have to be fully wrapped up in that kind of world; we get to come back and enjoy our lives here.” Living in Tassie has provided the band more freedom in choosing what they want to express in their music, and unique opportunities in the music world.
“There’s a lot of advantages in living here. If we were in Melbourne, we wouldn’t be able to jump into shows and play whenever or wherever we want. I feel like there’s a punk scene, the rock scene like the Cherry Bar. Whereas in Tasmania, everyone just plays whatever — bands mix and match, and you get to see a lot of different things in one site. “If you’re around a lot of musicians, you kinda have to click with other people, and if you’re playing the same kind of music, you will probably be influenced by other musicians somehow,” he says.
‘Enjoyable’ is the kind of sound that A. Swayze and the Ghosts want to convey in their music, so the band doesn’t leave the audience with only tumultuous experiences after watching their shows.
“We wouldn’t sound like we sound now if we weren’t in Tassie. We can play our own things that we really like and [our style] won’t be influenced by others that much. We’ll just focus on our own thing.”
“If we say we play post-punk music, it’s really easy to say we are pretentious. But I don’t think we’re pretentious people. I hope our music sounds playful and fun, instead of just being yelled at or something like that.”
The travelling life hasn’t always been easy.
A. Swayze and the Ghosts will be touring in the UK in May after they return from their national tour.
“The amount of travelling is probably my least favourite part working in the industry. Hobart is far so away from the rest part of Australia, the cost of travelling to Melbourne or Sydney is so fucking expensive. Apart from that, I don’t see any other negatives.”
Wenrui Wu Images: Norah earthed and Triple J Un
Norah Wenrui Wu Postgraduate | Bachelor of Journalism and Media
The Goon Sax Live at the Brisbane Hotel, 2019 Formed by Louis Foster, Riley Jones and James Harrison, the Goon Sax is an indie-pop band from Brisbane. The band released their debut album, Up to Anything, in 2016. Their second album, Weâ€™re Not Talking, was released in 2018. They have performed in multiple festivals in Australia and around the world. It was their first time to come and perform at Hobart on March this year.
I DE N T I T Y Mackenzie Stolp
Identity is the sort of thing you possess and don’t realise you have until it’s challenged. Or at least you don’t truly understand until it's questioned or explored. Growing up I felt incredibly tied to my Dutch heritage — I thought it was such a huge part of who I was. I clung to it. I think a lot of white Australia is very similar: we love claiming ties to our grandparent’s and greatgrandparent’s cultures and nationalities. My grandfather was born in Amsterdam and immigrated to Australia when he was six years old, several years after the second world war. Growing up, my grandfather did not tell me much about Amsterdam, but I loved to hear about it. His memories were blessed with fondness and love. Each year we celebrated Sinterklaas, the Dutch equivalent of Christmas. This tradition made me feel so connected to the Netherlands. I felt my Dutch heritage was strong and rich. But it was not until I moved to the Netherlands for five months that I realised how little I knew. My whole decision to choose the Netherlands as my semester abroad was based on my Dutch identity. I wanted to learn more about my roots and where my family came from — but instead I learnt far more about the Australian part of my identity. My grandfather is Dutch, but my other three grandparents were all born and raised in Australia. Just as I was. I did not speak any Dutch upon going to The Netherlands. I barely knew any Dutch history. I knew a lot less than I thought I did. But what I did realise was how much I knew and loved about Australia. One of the first nights I
Heritage population. I hate our government's stance on refugees. I hate the bigotry and xenophobia that seems to penetrate its way through our community.
spent with my international friends, we sat around and shared music from each other’s home countries. I played Midnight Oil. And INXS. Kylie. Hunters and Collectors. The Angels. All these songs and artists that I never actively thought of before, but loved and cherished. And this was the way for so much of Australia I loved — I never really thought about it before I left. Whilst my time away allowed me to learn more about the quarter of me that is considered Dutch, my favourite moments were sharing the three quarters Australian side of me. Talking to friends about international politics. Educating foreign friends on British colonisation and its effects in Australia. Finding Australian beer in an Australian-themed bar in Amsterdam and then forcing everyone to drink it. There was so much of Australia that I loved and hated and found interesting and so much of it I learnt whilst being away. I felt foolish for saying that any part of me was Dutch. I met real actual Dutch people, and realised I shared very minimal culture with them. I taught myself a couple Dutch phrases. I ate Dutch food. I lived in the bloody country for five months, and realised that the truest part of my identity is that I am Australian. And being ‘Australian’ is such a complex term because so many of us come from incredibly diverse backgrounds. I think it is so common for white Australians to cling to their European heritage as if it means something more than it does.
The more I found things that I loved and missed about Australia, the more emphasis it put on the things that I do not love. I don’t want to distract from all the beautiful aspects of Australia, but there is still so much that makes me angry. I think that Australia is so removed from most of the Western world, and so much of the evil that our government and population does is hidden from the rest of the world. We are quite removed. My international friends would often talk about the racist stereotype that Australia posseses, a characteristic I know is not a part of my identity, but is for a lot of our national community. My identity of being an Australian comes with many conflicts, something that did not challenge me until I learnt more about my identity. I love being Australian, but that does not also mean I am proud to be an Australian. Perhaps this is why I clung to the Dutch aspect of myself to begin with. Moving to the Netherlands really opened up my brain for much thought. First I was slightly disappointed to realise I was way less Dutch than I originally thought. But then I fell in love with being Australia and then again felt challenged by Australian stereotypes and characteristics. But I guess thats what your identity is. It’s a challenging mix of a number of different influences competing for a space inside of our bodies, to form our morals and ideals. And that’s ok. Learning about myself and both my Dutch and Australian identity was a wonderful experience, but I am still yearning to truly find my personal identity. I may not get there. But what I do know is I love and cherish my Dutch heritage and I love and cherish my Australian heritage. Both are challenging, but that’s life aye.
I love Kath and Kim. I love AFL. I love a warm Christmas. I love Coopers Beer. There are just so many aspects of my Australian identity that I love. But I also hate racism. I hate the way our country treats its indigenous
Elise Sweeney Third Year | Bachelor of Media (All) Pond Life, 2019 I have always loved the way that reflections move across the surface of water, and often will take pictures of the many interesting reflections I see. These are from the Gardens of the Alcรกzar in Seville, and as well as the gorgeous patterns on the water, I loved how the lone goldfish amongst the darker fish seemed to mimic the feeling of strangeness that one can have when first arriving in a foreign land.
Style Guide Joshua Scott
Now that the warm weather has subsided and the emerald leaves on our deciduous trees are turning to earthy tones, one has to stop and ask themselves, “What on earth do I wear to Uni?” Luckily for the greater UTAS congregation, I, Dr. Meredith D. D’Croy (Style Specialist) have all your apparel woes covered with my hot tips for this autumn.
Start Simple There’s no need to be complicated about it, just a simple t-shirt and jeans accompanied by a warm woollen scarf will give you the fashion statement you’re looking for. If you’re feeling adventurous, you might like to try an oversized bucket hat (preferably with a pineapple on it) I always find pineapple to be a great statement in autumn.
Colour Black and orange are your best options for simple colours that tie in with autumn. I would suggest orange under-layers such as t-shirts, underwear and scarfs. Then simply add black jeans to create a harmony of balanced tones. Nothing says autumn like ORANGE!
Accessories Don’t stress about accessories, I myself know the struggle of trying to pick the right bag with the right laptop case and what pocket square goes with which nail polish. It can be a nightmare! I suggest large leopard print tote bags. If you’re feeling a bit edgy, feel free to put some rips and holes in your tote bags. Nothing says ‘cool urban uni kid’ like a shredded leopard print bag.
Feet Have you ever thought about Platform Jelly shoes? That’s right, Platform Jelly shoes are in! Gone are the days of students lugging their blistered feet about in sandals and pleather shoes purchased from ASOS. Platform Jelly shoes will not only enhance your posture but enhance your swagger. I can guarantee if you’re single, rocking a pair of Platform Jellies will soon change that. You’ll even have your lecturers getting distracted.
Hair Now we all have bad hair days — trust me, I know, I’m a doctor. But Autumn demands hair extremes. It’s the season of fall, so let your hair grow down to your waist or even your knees. Platt it in exactly fifteen individual parts. Psychology says fifteen is the most attractive number when it comes to capturing your lovers’ eyes.
Follow my hot tips and I, Dr. Meredith D. D’Croy (style specialist), guarantee you will be a sensation looking so fly this autumn.
Making Utopia Joe Brady
I didn’t start drawing because I particularly liked making art — I sort of fell into storytelling and the drawing followed, because it turns out that pictures make telling stories easier. I tell stories that help me come to terms with all sorts of things going on in my life and the world. About pain, but also pleasures too. I like talking about small art and beauty, and where good things come from and why they leave. I call it utopian fiction, since it’s an expression of my honest values and principles in all things that matter in life — from civics and society, to aesthetics and architecture and fashion and friendship. You might be familiar with its cooler younger brother, dystopian fiction. The older concept of utopia is a weird creature; always political, always optimistic, and not always that interesting. It’s not necessarily a way of trying to convince you that my idea of utopia should also be yours — it’s much more inwardfacing than that. It’s a deeply personal exercise. It’s very satisfying and indulgently escapist, which is why I do it. I write about people stumbling through life the way we all do, laughing and crying and confused as they do it. I draw what they might look like, or how their language works, or what you could expect from a working life in that sort of country. University is a tumultuous time for all of us, so all these questions — about who you are, and how we should live, and why the world is a terrible and beautiful place — are on my mind a lot lately. This is my way of going about it — not as a clinical intellectual exercise, but as a sort of intuitive reaction. If you made drawings as a kid but grew out of it, or wrote short stories in high school but haven’t found time recently, you should give it another shot. It’s a great way to interpret these crazy times we live in, and distill our emotions into something that makes a little more sense. Or, so long as I get good enough, something that will at least look pretty.
Images: Joe Brady
Images: Joe Brady
AusVotes Monte Bovill
1, 2, 3, 4… who knew numbers could be so powerful? The decision that Australians are about to make will shape our future as a nation, and it comes down to the numbers we put next to names on a piece of paper. Australians are about to go to the polls for the Federal Election and this is a chance for your voice to be heard. All 151 seats in the House of Representatives in Canberra are up for grabs, and five of those seats are in Tasmania. In addition, voters will elect half of the country’s Senate, with six coming from our state. Tasmania is divided into five electorates, with one politician representing us per electorate, while 12 senators represent our state federally. Currently, the Australian Labor Party holds Braddon, Bass, Lyons and Franklin, with Independent Andrew Wilkie holding the electorate of Clark, formally Denison. In the Senate, Liberal Richard Colbeck, Labor’s Lisa Singh, Carol Brown and Catryna Bilyk, Green Nick McKim and the National’s Steve Martin are seeking re-election. Some familiar faces will also be hoping the people of Tasmania vote for them, with former senator Jacqui Lambie aiming to make a return to the senate. Former Tasmania University Union Societies President, Claire Chandler is running as part of the Liberal’s senate ticket, hoping to unseat one of the state’s existing senators. Labor’s Lisa Singh is facing an uphill battle, after being pushed to fourth position on her party’s ticket. She will rely on below-the-line votes to get her elected. The campaign has been building on University of Tasmania campuses. Vice President of the UTAS Liberal Club Thomas Bearman told Togatus the three key issues in this election are the economy, jobs and border security. In contrast, President of the UTAS Labor Society
Benjamin Dudman said climate change, health and jobs and training were the key issues on his party’s agenda. Mr Bearman said young Tasmanians have a stark choice when it comes to polling day. “[Voters have a choice] between a Morrison government, which is working to keep our economy strong and deliver greater opportunities to young Tasmanians including creating more jobs and providing more affordable housing,” he said. “Bill Shorten and Labor, whose plan would increase rents, cut jobs and risk a weaker economy that would effect our ability to fund essential services, like schools and hospitals.” Mr Dudman had a different view, and highlighted the importance of Tasmanians engaging in politics. “We will inherit the decisions being made right now. It’s our future and we need to ensure we have a say in what’s at stake,” he said. “This election is going to be the best opportunity we have to ensure youth issues are put at the forefront of politics. Every vote counts, it always does. So we need to ensure the youth vote kicks out the conservatives and gets progressive people into parliament.” Voting is compulsory and is easier than you might think. 1.
Enrol to vote at aec.gov.au/enrol
If you've recently moved you'll need to update your address at aec.gov.au/enrol/change-address.htm
Check your enrolment to see which electorate you will be voting in at check.aec.gov.au
Choose wisely, as the elected members will represent you for the next three years in the House of Reps and six in the Senate. Don’t waste the power of your numbers.
Senators up for Re-Election in:
Labor: Lisa Singh Labor: Catryna Bilyk Labor: Carol Brown Liberal: Richard Colbeck Green: Nick McKim Nationals: Steve Martin
2022 Liberal: Eric Abetz Liberal: Jonathon Duniam Liberal: Wendy Askew Labor: Helen Polley Labor: Anne Urquhart Green: Peter Whish-Wilson
House of Reps
BASS Labor: Ross Hart Liberal: Bridget Archer Green: Tom Hall
BRADDON Labor: Justine Keay Liberal: Garvin Pearce Green: Phil Parsons
LYONS Labor: Brian Mitchell Liberal: Jessica Whelan Green: Gary Whisson
FRANKLIN Labor: Julie Collins Liberal: Dean Young Green: Kit Darko
Independent: Andrew Wilkie Labor: Ben McGregor Liberal: Amanda-Sue Markham Green: Juniper Shaw
The Tassie Podcast Conquering the Charts Rainer Curcio
“Recording the podcast did not feel like a uni project, it just felt like fun.” Podcasts are in their prime, and media students Imogen Johnston and Lily West have created a little gem of their own. Six months ago, the convivial duo conceived a conspiracy theory podcast so successful it has made the national charts. Imogen speaks to how What the Con came about, and how it was initially inspired by a conversation on the royal wedding. “After spending an hour procrastinating, we realised there were countless conspiracy theories surrounding the world’s most famous family,” she says. The pair’s first episode, Lizzie the Lizard, attracted hundreds of downloads, landing the episode within the top 200 Australian Comedy Podcasts.
“Imogen will explain the very base details of the case, and we’ll talk a little bit about the police investigation. Then I’ll come in and talk about all the possibilities, the suspects, [and] the anomalies.” Despite the change in direction, Imogen assures us that the conspiracy roots that made the podcast such a hit will not be lost. Undoubtedly, the media-savvy friends have had a lot of fun creating their podcast. Their favourite episode, A Dingo Took Harold Holt, focussed solely on Australian conspiracy theories. “Recording the podcast didn’t feel like a uni project, it just felt like fun. Being able to be creative with one of my best mates and call it study was really rewarding,” Lily reflects.
The jovial first series covered topics including Harold Holt, Azaria Chamberlain and the Titanic. But series two is set to take a different direction.
Imogen and Lily say they already have the whole series lined up, with episodes planned covering the mysterious cases of Madeleine McCann, Victoria Cafasso and Nancy Grunwaldt, JonBenet Ramsey, and Lucille Butterworth.
“In this series, we’re moving towards unsolved crime and unsolved mysteries,” says Imogen. Additionally, the format of the podcast is also set to change, according to co-creator Lily West.
The case of Victoria Cafasso and Nancy Grunwaldt, two tourists who disappeared on the east coast of Tasmania in the mid-1990s, particularly interests the conspiracy enthusiasts.
[Redacted] “Victoria’s body was found on Beaumaris beach, and a few years later Nancy went missing on the east coast… she just vanished without a trace,” Imogen explains. Such a mysterious unsolved case occurring so close to home is particularly fascinating to the duo. “It’s never been solved, and there’s a lot of evidence that hasn’t been looked at. It’s a really interesting case and hardly anyone has heard of it,” Lily says. The passionate podcasters are excited to get back in the studio for series two and promise the hilarity of the first series will continue, despite the show’s darker turn. “I don’t want to lose our personality — I want us to stay true to what we started with, but take us in a different direction,” Imogen assures.
Check out the duo at whatthecon.simplecast.fm and follow them on Instagram at @what_thecon
/r/incels Posted by u/Logan_Linkston Some Time Ago
The concepts of ‘crime’ and ‘the criminal’ have existed for millenia, but have changed to keep up with the world as it rapidly develops. Humans created new social structures and invaded new territories, and so too created a new space for crime to be committed. The latest of these came with the invention of the internet in the mid 80’s. In the past, it was a challenge for people exhibiting violent and dangerous behaviour or thoughts to find likeminded individuals. But now 40,000 people can unite over their shared dangerous beliefs simply through the internet. Those 40,000 people were members of a since-banned Reddit community r/incels, a portmanteau of ‘involuntary celibates’. These are individuals that, through online subculture, have constructed identities for themselves around their perceived inability to find a sexual partner, despite the desire for one. They are involuntarily deprived of sex — they can’t get laid. It’s no mystery that our world is obsessed with sex. Sex sells. Companies like Victoria’s Secret make millions selling products rife with sex appeal. Individuals become high profile celebrities by leaked sex tapes. So in a society where sex is put on a pedestal, what happens to those who are deprived of it? Only recently has this question been asked. Through the Internet, those that felt rejected by social society, mostly young men, congregated in forums and online communities — that of the incels. Like many other online subcultures, it has its own language. Women are referred to as “femoids”, attractive women are “Stacys” and attractive men “Chads”. The “black pill” (and yes, that is a
reference to The Matrix) is the belief that their celibacy is determined by genetics and biological factors, and therefore such individuals have no hope of living a life where they are happy and not involuntarily celibate. “It’s just nature and there’s nothing to be done about it”. Incels believe women are hypergamous, which is a term that quite literally means “punching above your weight”. Hypergamy is the act of marrying someone who is not your equal, or above your ‘social station’ — or in the world of incel communities, physical attractiveness. This online community is a rabbit hole unlike anything Neo could imagine. Not only do members of this community loathe women, but ultimately they loathe themselves — incels often refer to themselves as “subhuman”. The little amount of psychological research into this group of people identifies characteristics of resentment, misogyny, violence and self-loathing. When this loathing finds others who feel the same, what else could happen but the festering and justification of dangerous thoughts and behavior? Since the incel community emerged from the dark recesses of the Internet, there have been four mass murders committed by incels, and 45 deaths. Elliot Rodgers killed six people and injured 14 more before taking his own life in May 2014. This mass murder was fuelled by his desire for “revenge” on women who had rejected him. Rodgers left behind a detailed manifesto, stained by his misogynistic and graphic thoughts. Among other atrocities, the manifesto suggested all women be held in concentration camps and starved to death, so men could expand their intelligence and advance the human race.
Rodgers posted on an incel site saying, “If we can’t solve our problems, we must destroy our problems. One day incels will realise their true strength and numbers, and will overthrow this oppressive feminist system. Start envisioning a world where women fear you.”
No. The underlying issue is not the deprivation of sex. It is a group of people (mainly men) who believe they are being denied something that is their right. It is the feeling that they are both entitled to, and owed sex. More than that, it is the sense that all of this — sex appeal, biological determinants, male competition — is entirely out of their control. It is dogmatic hopelessness that nothing they ever will do will change the truth. That they will always be inadequate.
While encouraging other incels to unite instead of hiding from the world, Rodgers told these men to fight back. To choose “fight” instead of “flight,” and that one day incels would defeat the oppressive enemy of women. In the death of Elliot Rodgers, a martyr was borne. The following three mass murders; a shooting in Oregon, a van attack in Toronto, Canada and the shooting in Parkland, Florida, were in some part inspired by Rodgers — each attacker referred to him, often by his self-attributed nickname “the Supreme Gentleman” in online forums or manifestos.
The Internet provides a forum for pain and hatred to fester. A group of people who feel unwanted, humiliated and undesirable have constructed a dangerous narrative to justify their worldview. And because of this, 45 people have died in the wake of this radicalisation.
Misogyny and punishment of women for their rejection of men is not by any means a new concept. Countless serial killers have explained their horrific actions by their desire to punish women. In a Vox article, journalist Zack Beaucamp discussed incel Alex Minassian’s attack that killed 10 and injured 16 in Toronto, saying, “what we’re seeing right now is one of society’s oldest hatreds, misogyny, being reworked in real time to fit a specific group of men’s rage and pain.” A member of the incel subreddit responded to the Toronto van attack by commenting, “I will never condemn violence… with enough suffering they can no longer ignore and ridicule us, they will fear us instead.” Ultimately, the goal or ideology of this group is not simply sex. If it was only about sexual intercourse, the problem could be solved with the occasional employ of a prostitute.
Out There Choosing Courage Over Comfort Dan Prichard
“Our comfort zones seem to lock us into certain ways of thinking, perceiving and doing things.” What did you do this morning? I can hazard a guess it involved waking up, be it in the comfort of your pillow or an unfinished tutorial reading. Hopefully it took you to the fridge or pantry, and saw you indulge in something to pull you through the day. You probably showered, brushed your teeth — and I’m assuming you left the house to fill your time with something productive, that gives you the purpose and drive to wake up ready for tomorrow. Let’s talk about tomorrow — what will you do? Can you guess what it might bring? Sadly, I can predict most of my tomorrow based on my experience of today. I’d like to think this isn’t due to a lack of anything better to do, but is part of a bigger problem, worrying me as much as the fact that as I write to you, it’s already late March. This problem, I believe, is something we all seem to face in our everyday lives, haunting us like product placement — constantly, but often without our realizing. In some ways, it controls our actions, dictating our routines and the choices we decide to make. Most significantly, this problem restricts us, limiting our experiences and the horizons we see and seek to pursue.
I’ll cut to the chase. This problem is our comfort, specifically our comfort zones. In my head, I imagine these spaces as bubbles in which we live out our existence: eating, sleeping, procrastinating, scrolling — and so it goes. We obviously dwell in these bubbles for a reason. We’ve grown accustomed to the security they bring, the furniture, food and friendly routines we know so well. What could be wrong with that? From inside, it can all seem pretty ideal: avoiding unpleasant surprises by sticking to what we know, and enjoying the things that make us feel safe and secure. Despite potential monotony, routine guarantees comfort. But comfort is one thing. And fulfilment is another altogether. Where am I heading with this TED talk? Basically, the thing that’s been on my mind is how our comfort zones are fantastic at keeping us safe, but there’s a whole lot more to life than feeling protected. As a child, I remember how excited I used to be for school. Some mornings I’d wake up too early because I couldn’t wait to learn something new — be it about planets, the marimba, or how to lose at Card-Jitsu on Club Penguin. Being so young, tomorrow was exciting and newness was something I couldn’t live without. But as time has passed and years have flown, I’ve realized how accustomed I’ve grown to spending full days — sometimes weeks — without doing something
world beyond brushing teeth and writing notes. And it takes courage to look at the ways we’ve been conditioned to do our living, and to make the decision to embrace the unknown for the sake of giving our lives meaning.
The key thing to remember here is that this world, restricting and claustrophobic as it can be, is one of many. Our comfort zones seem to lock us into certain ways of thinking, perceiving and doing things. But there is more to life than comfort.
Our days aren’t limitless, but the potential they hold is. Once we wake up to the fact that there’s more to life than ‘what we must do’, we become liberated from the limits we’ve learnt and built for ourselves. We extend our comfort zones by kicking open the door and smashing the windows, like an egg on the head of a bigot.
New worlds surround us every day. They present themselves as opportunities waiting to be taken, be it a new friend we’re yet to meet or a sunset worth stopping for and simply appreciating. Such positive things aren’t difficult to grasp. It just takes the decision to choose courage over comfort. It takes courage to consciously reject our routine and decide to do things differently. It takes courage to take a step outside our comfort zones to see what lies in the new
This year, I’ve challenged myself to do things differently, to look at things with new eyes, and to choose courage over comfort. New worlds don’t cost a cent to find, just one decision to be brave. To quote the old tune from Hello Dolly (or that one song from WALL-E): ‘Put on your Sunday clothes: there’s lots of world out there!’ I’ve shined my shoes, and I’m out the door. The sun is shining, which makes me feel as though I am too. I hope I’ll see you out here soon.
new. Looking back at the days when ‘responsibility’ meant organizing your Tamagotchis and not your life, I realize that I have since given in to my routines, allowing them to dictate the landscape of the world I live in.
Do you have a restless pen? Are you an aspiring writer, journalist, or artist?
Then Contribute to Togatus! See the details below for more information. We look forward to hearing from you!
Togatus is the independent student media magazine at the University of Tasmania and simply wouldnâ€™t exist without the contributions of our fellow students. We are always looking out for new students to contribute. Togatus showcases UTAS talent, news and discussion across every campus. As well as publishing four print editions each year, we also report on student news through our social media channels and website. If youâ€™re keen to contribute, feel free to shoot us an email or message us on one of our social media pages. All students are invited to join the team!
If you want to talk about or submit an article contribution, email Togatus or Joe. Likewise, for artistic contributions talk to Maddie and for advertising inquiries chat with Monte. We look forward to hearing from you!
Togatus Joe Brady Maddie Burrows Monte Bovill
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