Art School Confidential

Whilst teaching together one day, the late artist and educator Kate Daw, said to me, ‘Time is the school in which we learn’, quoting Joan Didion.i As time passes ever more quickly, I remembered this observation when I began to write down my thoughts about Deakin University Art Gallery’s first exhibition of 2023, Art School Confidential. An ambitious project that celebrates the work of current teaching staff from the School of Communication and Creative Arts and the wider faculty group including contributions by Bradley Axiak, Jane Bartier, Anindita Banerjee, Zoë Bastin, Wendy Beatty, Cameron Bishop, David Cross, Joel Gailer, Tara Gilbee, Simon Grennan, Aaron Hoffman, Victoria Holessis, Penelope Hunt, Ilona Jetmar, Todd Johnson, Dan Koop, Fiona Lee, Katie Lee, Sean Loughrey, Olivia Millard, Amber Smith, Luigi Vescio, Sorcha Wilcox, Anne Scott Wilson and Bruce Zhou, featuring artworks they made whilst they were students.

I am always perplexed when the value of artworks is neatly wrapped together with a fixed idea of the artist’s identity and public persona. The standard formula seems to be, creating artworks that are easily identifiable and consistent, equates to commercial appeal and success. Of course, artists don’t just arrive fully formed with practices and ways of working into any given art scene. Like other professions and cultural practices, before becoming established, artists are part of long lineages of knowledge via art school education, creative art institutions and pedagogies going back many years. These observations shaped this exhibition celebrating the recent history of teaching and creative practices here at Deakin University in Naarm/Melbourne.

Over the years I heard lots of rumours about well-known artists and the unrecognisable types of works they made at art school. As though, these artists should be somewhat ashamed of what they once made as students and had ugly charcoal drawings hiding away somewhere like The Picture of Dorian Gray (Wilde, 1992). But rather than focusing on the works of more established artists and operations of fame and power, as I worked through the logistics of this project, a more modest and local story emerged. This extended to inviting a group of twenty-five current teaching and learning staff to re-present artworks they created whilst they were students. The result is a collection of vastly divergent and disparate student artworks including never seen before examples of classical life drawing, folio entry submissions and first forays into formative developments in new and old mediums such as moving image, installation, painting, print, photography, sculpture and performance.

For many years my partner had a photocopy excerpt of one of Gough Whitlam’s speeches pinned up at home on the wall. I think it might have been an extract from the first National Arts policy or cited in the formation of the Australia Council. We have long since lost the A4 printout and I have had difficulty sourcing it again. But I remember his discussion around the importance for the arts to not just pursue and value an idea of excellence, but to recognize that each individual act of creativity is a break-through that should in some way be commended all on its own terms and on its own merits, especially when we consider greater context of who you might be and where you have come from.ii Of course, following this methodology, everyone should be encouraged to make art and to be an artist and in-doing so, we create culture, discourse and in turn strengthen our communities and democratic principles. With this in mind, we should be especially proud of our artistic failures and embrace them all.

Over the summer months just gone, the teaching group were busily tasked with a hunt through their garages, under their beds and through their studio storage spaces and old hard drives (that don’t open easily anymore) to find works they made as students. Works that were still in presentable condition and that they were willing to display to contemporary audiences (a big thank you to all for their efforts!). Hence, we came to a kind of compromise between what remains from the past and how they would like to be seen in the present. The exhibition became a mixture of undergraduate, Honours and Masters’ student artwork examples spanning four decades and from various different art schools and teaching institutions from across the country and beyond.

Art School Confidential takes its title from Terry Swiggoff’s (United Artists, 2006) movie, and similarly shares with the film the appreciation of artist’s unexpected beginnings. As the new academic year of 2023 begins, the purpose of this exhibition demonstrates to students, staff and wider audiences, the different histories of artistic endeavours at Deakin and in turn, the remarkable transit of these artist’s practices over time.

Artists Olivia Millard, Luigi Vescio, Dan Koop and Zoë Bastin had the even more difficult challenge of remembering their first solo dance, choreographic, movement and performance works. And as part of the exhibition, they very generously reimagined these artworks for a contemporary audience. I thank them for the dedication in piecing together and choreographing new works from just a few ephemeral scraps: printed flyers, a prop, a song lyric and clothing items that were the only remnants remaining many years later.

Todd Johnson’s 12 hours 1 month 3 weeks (2010-2022) similarly represents his creative exploration and the weathering effects of time. Johnson works with analogue cameras, shooting onto film to make images. Around the beginnings of his studies at Deakin, Johnson buried this large format negative photograph and only recently uncovered it. The resulting corroded image has been created through twelve years of chemical and environmental reactions.

Alongside Johnson’s photograph, artist Penelope Hunt is represented by two portraits created whilst she attended photography college in Richmond in the late 80s. As a student Hunt began documenting local residents in her lunch breaks. For Art School Confidential Hunt chose to include a touching image of her determined looking mother in their Richmond backyard. Behind her strong looking subject, the young photographer is reflected in the glass window of the backyard shed with her camera in hand. Viewing this image thirty-six years after it was taken Looking Forward (1990) captures a palpable sense of time passing and a cycle of sharing perspectives and positions.

Each artwork included in this exhibition perhaps more acutely reflects the times and contexts in which they were made, and the shifting focus of differing pedagogies and materialities over the decades. As a method of presenting the artworks, I have displayed them in the manner of the salon with most artworks exhibited as a large group, clustered from the floor to ceiling at one end of the Deakin University Art Gallery. Here my aim was to reference the Victorian era of a drawing, painting or sculpture gallery. With apprentice and mentor presented alongside each other for peer review and as a space of both display and education. I also exhibited the artworks without direct labels, wanting to loosen the artworks from their maker (a little) and to challenge our student audiences in identifying the works of their artist/lecturers.

This academy style is further elaborated by the presence of two large plaster cast replica statues borrowed from Deakin’s drawing studio. As noted by Adjunct Professor and artist Rob Haysom, these sculptures were once part of the teaching at Deakin’s ‘the Mill’ studios in Pakington Street, Geelong, in the 80s before arriving here at the Burwood campus sometime in the 90s.iii Since then they have continued to be used as drawing aids in understanding the figure and anatomy. The two sculptural statues are like ghosts in this new context, remains of a bygone era. Looking at them now, I wonder about all the students over the generations that have drawn them. Their hardened plaster forms remain resolutely inert to the years of constant observation. Yet, as silent witnesses, it’s difficult not to imagine what stories they could tell?

Historian John Gregory notes in The rise and fall of Melbourne’s plaster cast collection, at one point the Gallery School at the National Gallery of Victoria was home to over 300 plaster replicas, their disappearance from museums and teaching spaces today explained by the changing times, tastes and meaning.iv

As regards to the plaster casts, the claims for moral superiority implied by the classical gods and heroes (typically male) and ideals of beauty (typically female), and by the effigies of exemplary individuals, have seemed increasingly irrelevant as the last century progressed.v

After dusting off the most recent students various ‘knowing’ new additions of glitter, lipstick, stickers and fake feathers these two copies of classical sculptures added both a historical context to the exhibition and an aura from long ago. As changing contexts and pedagogies for the visual arts continue to evolve critic Irit Rogoff recently redeployed the metaphor of the academy to describe ‘the conflation of exhibition and learning spaces as continued sites of emerging potentialities’.vi

Thinking back to my own education it is difficult now to remember many details. But what types of knowledges and skills do we gain when we study, practice and disseminate art? These ‘soft’ skills cannot easily be quantified. Whilst completing her Master’s degree the now Geelong based artist Fiona Lee gives voice to these questions which remain difficult to answer. Lee’s Potential Unlimited (Level ARI) (2010) take the form of three framed certificates. With each, she awarded friends and colleagues working in various artist run initiatives with a recognition of their unique skills and experiences. My favourite being ‘On the twenty-third day of June Two Thousand and Ten it was discovered that Courtney Combs is a Specialist at: Measuring a Space without a Measuring Tape… Summa cum Laude.’vii

Closing the exhibition, artist and lecturer Anne Scott Wilson has contributed the twenty-six-minute documentary video Art School Job (2008-23). A collaboration with artist Domenico de Clario that poetically tracks his last official day as head of a local art school in Melbourne. He begins by singing songs of love and lament in the early hours of an empty building, before wandering through studio spaces and then packing up the contents of his office. He remembers important works of previous students, minor break throughs and exhibition leftovers, placing these precious items into boxes before going off to cook dinner for his aging parents. Looking back further in hindsight, the artist and lecturers have shared their personal memories of art school amongst the pages of this catalogue. In reminiscing they reveal many different stories, contexts and educational experiences and I am grateful to them for sharing these insights.

As the world turns in 2023, how can we create a sense of belonging when change is such a constantly influencing companion? By engaging in an exercise of reflection Art School Confidential seeks to create both lineage and continuity for our current student audiences. So that they can connect their own discoveries to those before them and to cherish their education as a special time of experimentation: embracing risk and the unknown.

James Lynch Curator, Art Collection and Galleries

i Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking, Alfred A. Knopf, United States, 2005, p. 23.

ii For more information see Kim Williams, Whitlam, the Arts and Democracy, Whitlam Institute and the Western Sydney University Press, 2019, https://www.whitlam.org/publications/2019/11/13/whitlam-thearts-and-democracy iii Adjunct Professor Rob Haysom in conversation with the author 1 March 2023. iv John Gregory The rise and fall of Melbourne’s plaster cast collection, The La Trobe Journal, No. 106, September 2021, p.45. v Ibid vi Irit Rogoff, Academy as Potentialities, cited in Angelika Nollert and Irit Rogoff (eds), A.C.A.D.E.M.Y, Revolver, Frankfurt, 2006, p. 14. vii Text cited from Fiona Lee, Potential Unlimited (Level ARI) (2010), artwork created as part of Lee’s Master of Fine Art by Research, University of Tasmania, Hobart, (2010). from left:

Simon Grennan

Untitled examination drawing 1995

Sean Loughrey

Untitled study 1987

Sean Loughrey

Untitled (sticks) 1987

These paintings were made during my Postgraduate Diploma in 1987, at the Victorian College of the Arts (before it became part of The University of Melbourne). It was memorable because numerous, interesting artists taught there at the time. Artists such as, Geoff Lowe, John Nixon, Tony Clarke, Jenny Watson and others. Our studios were in, what was once an old police hospital, across the road from the NGV. Having previously lived in Warrnambool I could not have been closer to galleries. We all had a room each, some bigger sections were partitioned off. We had BBQs on the balcony and watched trams whiz around the corner. Having a studio was the most critical and memorable part of all my art school experiences.

Sean Loughrey

Art school was the most integral part of my career all the way from BFA Hons through a research MFA to a PhD. Back then it was an atelier model where the genius artist-lecturer came into the studio and you were expected to stay all day and work alongside their instructive workshops, where they offered masses of critical feedback and encouragement on the ground. Equal emphasis was placed on conceptual ideas and art history and theory which were embedded into practical, technical and material methods of working. Art school is a lot different now.

Fiona Lee

Todd Johnson

12 years, 1 month, 3 weeks 2010-2022

In The Reflective Practitioner: How professionals think in action, Donald Schön (1983), speaks of the practice of learning in professionals as an ‘indeterminate swampy zone’. Schön’s swamp offers a productive metaphor for my own art education; a complex, ambiguous and often messy terrain. My photograph for Art School Confidential visually articulates the complexities, ambiguities, and contingencies of the visual art and design educational landscape; a shifting entanglement between agencies, environments and materialities. In the case of my own art education, everyday materialities were frequently neglected, overlooked, or shunted by the wayside. This was especially the case in my photography and art education, which foregrounded representation, identity, and semiotics over everything else. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, my own creative practice has embraced materiality, detritus and mistakes as vital material components of creative process and content.

Todd Johnson

Art schools have been integral in my artistic journey. I studied photography part time over four years in my twenties, R.M.I.T in my thirties, completed a Master’s at the VCA in my forties and now in my fifties I am doing my PhD at Monash and teaching photography at Deakin University. My memories of photography college are still vivid. All night colour printing marathons! Great friends keeping each other going with whatever means, not realising the more tired you got, the more your colour vision disappeared. Also, art lectures by Norbert Loeffler – a way of seeing that was so inspirational in breadth and potential!

Penelope Hunt

Penelope Hunt Looking Forward 1990

from left:

Aaron Hoffman

Untitled (door) 2015

Bradley Axiak

Applecore 2009

David Cross

Closer c.1994

I vividly recall working on these two pieces. The first took minutes to complete. Once I had the right parts, I tied the forms together and switched the work on. Satisfied. The second piece demanded care and consideration, a complex process of casting with resin. Each moment spent with it balanced between success and failure. In a way, this summed up my time at art school. Engaging in my practice, surrounded by a motley crew of creatives, peers, and enablers.

Aaron Hoffman

Joel Gailer

I remember painting the little waterfall painting Natural Arch (1998) during my second year in a Diploma of visual arts in Noosa, Queensland. It was my first resolved painting. I can still recall the elation I felt as the work unfolded, the newly learnt accuracy and brush control was thrilling. Completing the work was a breakthrough moment for me, jumping around my little painting desk in the kitchen of a rented flat I thought, ‘I can do this!’.

Joel Gailer

Bruce Zhou

Lily 2001

In 2001, I studied animation at the Victorian College of Arts, Film and TV school, Melbourne University. I made the first Chinese watercolour painting style animation in Australia. It was the most challenging year. I really enjoyed the filmmaking, storytelling, drawing, painting both traditionally and digitally, acting and animation. I did lots of reference drawing, and life drawing at VCA art school, I also took extra lessons to learn Chinese watercolour painting over the weekends. I tried to step out of my comfort zone and challenged myself to create my own style of animation. I did animate Lily by using a traditional light table, and made sure the timing and position were right, then painting each frame on the Chinese rice paper, and scanned them. The animations were a lot of work, but I really enjoyed every step of it.

Bruce Zhou

A sociology teacher said to me ‘I could tell you were from Frankston by the way you dressed.’

I made my own clothes.

I didn’t know how to do university, I hardly knew what it was. No one in my working-class family had gone to university. I studied photography, philosophy, and secondary teaching. In first and second year I didn’t understand that we were asked to re-hash information. I only found my feet in third and fourth year when we were asked to explore things independently. It became apparent that I can’t follow instructions. I need to experiment to come to my own conclusions.

Sorcha Wilcox

After a career in entertainment, choreography for public events etc, art school was a huge relief. As a single mother, art school over stimulated me, in a good way! Painting and conceptual practice released the imagination from being tethered to the body and I was fired up and full of ideas – too many – so many they are still active in practice today. Socially ‘Art School Confidential’ the movie encapsulates the stereotypes into which I fall. The older female (except that my child was a toddler) in her second career. The attrition rate was big and today out of a class of 60 about 2 in my class that I know of, still practice!

Anne Scott Wilson

I went to Art School in Nipaluna (Hobart), and the building is on Constitution Dock in an old Jam Factory, surrounded by the salt water river and a working wharf. As a typical 20-somethings art student, I was often running late for 9 am classes. Rather than bad traffic, the hazard I would run into was trying to cross the docks to get to school. Frequently I would arrive on the dock at the same time a fishing boat would be leaving, or coming back in. This meant I would have to stand there and watch the excruciatingly slow process of the wharf bridge lifting up and away, before it slowly rotated back after the boat had chugged past. We would work at Uni until about 10 pm when we would be dragged out of the building by security (whom we frequently argued with about wanting to stay later or not having the right security forms signed). For lunch or dinner we would get fresh fish’n’chips from the boats. After we left Uni we would stop for drinks at a pub along the wharf. Living in Nipaluna, there were so few galleries, our art school culture was all about making the work. I got a shock when I first moved to Naarm (Melbourne) and realised for lots of people it was actually all about showing their work.

Katie Lee

Katie Lee Untitled

I can still recall that first time entering the main hall of the Queensland College of Art as a commencing student, although 30 years on it is more like a tonal afterimage than a coherent memory. I remember the bright daylight flooding through the other side of the dark concrete-grey modernist lobby that led into the main courtyard. Even at the time it felt like a threshold moment. The QCA, then based in East Brisbane, was not a floor or building allocated to visual arts but an entire campus dedicated to the education of practicing artists and designers. I looked around wide-eyed, trying like many others I suspect, not to appear overawed. I had no thoughts of career prospects; all that mattered was that I was here, immersed in a world where what mattered most was art and ideas, and the only currency worth anything was the art we could make.

Simon Grennan

Simon Grennan Dalek in Landscape 2011 Deakin University Art Collection

The studios at the Waterfront campus were set up in such a way that the higher your year of study was, the closer you were to a bank of large, heritage windows. The PhD students were the sacred bunch that had the hallowed spaces looking straight out into the sky! I remember walking in on orientation day as an undergrad and working this pattern out in my mind. Eventually, I did my rounds on the concentric circles of the studio system starting from the dark centre and finally reaching a brightly lit, brightly lit, four meter wide window facing the PhD work space! Now, years after completing my studies at art school, I look back and wonder, did anybody else studying art at the Waterfront campus think of the studio structures in similar terms?

Anindita Banerjee

In a chronology of age:

The heat of The Tinsheds, city road, 3 marks required out of 100 for the practical, the rest in essays, missed a lecture from Lucy Lippard, assessed in Italian, Juanita Nielson missing;

Teaching primary school children to make batik cushions for the library;

Teaching art in Walgett, well not;

The smell of wax and dye in Jogjakarta for six months batik study;

I can weave, I am too clumsy for screen print;

Enter Deakin via Treatment at Wyndham Art gallery, the best year of fear in Honours;

Getting to Venice via the local water; the hardest work in writing a sentence, in an exegesis; ever inspiring peers and teachers and people in my life. Repetition, pattern, unravelling.

Jane Bartier

Jane Bartier Dalhousie Springs, aerial view 2006

I remember when Deakin sold Rusden and the visual arts moved to the Elgar Road campus - very old buildings that do not exist anymore. The building we were in was dedicated to the visual art department and I felt it was a haven away from the noise of the busy Burwood streets. The lecturers would walk in and out of the space offering feedback and sometimes taking a student’s brush and proceeding to work on their piece – this to some student’s horror, whilst I think others secretly loved it. It was a time of growth for me as an artist and I treasure the input I received from my lecturers to develop my work.

Ilona Jetmar

How the air suffocates down here. Lucky, lucky. 2018

My best memories from art school were with my fellow students. The atmosphere of being in a group of artists in their early years of practice was very exciting and inspiring! I was lucky enough to go through postgrad with two close friends which was such a help – a support network that I treasured. Our cohort in those days at the Waterfront was a stellar line-up, and I can vividly recall our Honours exhibition opening – a very DIY affair, and quite the party with a fair few cases of wine, nothing you could get away with now!

Cameron Bishop

Dumbluck 2008

Cameron Bishop

Near Heide 2008

Like photography, time is similarly one of the most crucial aspects for a student. Whether it be the countdown to an end of a semester with the hope of producing a body of work that embodies twelve weeks of practiceled exploration. Or the hours lost to a wave of curiosity, ignited by finding a new material, book or artist – all because of being exposed to different ways of seeing. Then, just when it feels like large portions of the day cannot be traced back, it becomes anchored again by the fixed discipline of seconds and silver that a darkroom demands entirely from you. Despite all of this, perhaps the best markers of time disappearing were simply the hours spent with other students in the studio, haphazardly pinning up test prints on the studio walls or talking through work in progress long after classes had ended.

Victoria Holessis

There are many stories from art school that I fondly recall (and some I am relieved there wasn’t a perpetual recording device as they’re best left for foggy recollections). As a city kid at 18, it was a bold move to transfer to Deakin University Warrnambool. Besides not knowing anyone, I had to learn how to live without parental boundaries and, of course, keep within my budget. With $70 a week, I could go out a few nights, pay for food, transport, and even buy the occasional pack of cigarettes and keep myself in stock of art supplies. However, it was an amazing experience, the classes were immersive, interdisciplinary, collaborative and hands-on, at times chaotic (and no doubt, would have made OHS sweat). There was a lot of readymade installation work and trips to the tip and salvage yard. A combination of freedom to push boundaries and critical thinking and access to multiple skills (I remember learning how to weld together another metal sculpture bound for my parents’ garden) made this such an integral part of my life experience that I am grateful for the chance to have had.

Wendy Beatty

When I’m reminded of my days as a photography student, it’s the time I spent in the darkroom that come straight to mind. Countless hours spent processing and analysing film and the conversations with the technician (the Irish Alchemist) about how I might compensate for an under or over exposure... or how I needed to ‘let go’ of an unprintable shot, no matter how much I struggled with it. The magic of photography was buried in the pursuit of perfection unattainable; it was the wonder of the print when it formed a window into that journey with my camera, coupled with the stink of fix.

They were a time of immense discovery, I recall walking onto the campus at VCA and feeling like I had to go there. I had trained as a registered nurse prior at the Royal Melbourne Hospital but it was at art school I felt alive. Sometimes at home and sometimes like I may not belong. It was a time in which I got to break free of my social upbringing and discover the larger world at hand. It was the best decision of my life to go but also a hard one to make possible. Inventive solutions and large warehouse vacancies were the opportunities many creatives found to keep afloat and work together. Art school opened up so many possibilities.

Tara Gilbee

Tara Gilbee

Untitled Portrait 1999

Attending art school, or rather dance school was a significant time for me. I completed my undergraduate degree in the early 90s and we danced 8.30am-6pm every day. I felt as though I had been admitted to a world that I had not known existed. Dance and the arts were treated as important and worthy of being totally occupied with. I decided to stay in that world.

Olivia Millard

After grinding through the final years of high school, I hoped that going to uni would be nothing but drama classes. I was disappointed – too many essays, too little time in the rehearsal room. What I couldn’t find at uni, I looked for in the real world. My impatience got me collaborating and making shows in the Melbourne Fringe, which I kept doing so alongside studying. Our use of cheap venues led me to become fascinated with found spaces, which later led me into situated performance and public art. Frustration led me into the real world, but curiosity keeps me coming back to study.

Dan Koop

For me, studying dance felt like being a chameleon with a spongy rather than sticky tongue. Throughout those formative years I absorbed the physical languages of my dance idols, Ross McCormack, Elie Tass, Jo Lloyd and Meg Stuart among them. I placed myself in their skin, tracing movement pathways and following choreographic approaches. It was about dancing as much as I could, long days, six days a week, experiencing it all. I immediately entered a full-time company following graduation, regularly performing works for different choreographers. Simultaneously, I was continuing my own creative journey. It was the time around those rehearsals, my solo time in the studio, where the next chapter began. The rigorous yet playful temporary undoing of everything I had learnt, the ability to step into the unknown and connect with creative instinct, that’s when I started developing my choreographic voice.

Luigi Vescio

I began to look at how to transform ways of thinking about the body to avoid practices that objectify, limit and stigmatise bodies that do not perform the feminine ideal at the end of undergrad. I was standing looking at my work in a graduate exhibition with two men who had taught me that semester. We were watching a video I had made. Three women moved sculptural materials around a gallery space on screen. They held serious expressions as they concentrated on the task they were doing. Wrapping rope around their arms, folding bits of foam, dragging sacks of flour. They moved with determination. These men asked me questions about the clothes we wore, the weight of each of our bodies, how difficult it must be to physically drag the materials (implying we weren’t strong enough). Adrienne Rich wrote ‘…the dutiful daughters of the fathers in us are only a hack’. And I decided standing there to find ways to make myself stronger by understanding and fighting against the forces that sought to diminish my power. This began my PhD, and the ongoing research I do now.

Zoë Bastin

List of works

All artworks are listed as they appeared in the exhibition. All images are © copyright and reproduced courtesy of the artists.

From left clockwise around gallery:

Behind reception desk

Fiona Lee

Potential Unlimited (Level ARI) 2010 framed printed certificates with red circular paper adhesive sticker 30 x 32 cm each

West wall from left:

Simon Grennan

Untitled examination drawing 1995 charcoal on paper 56 x 76 cm

Sean Loughrey

Untitled study 1987 oil on canvas

22.5 x 20.5 cm

Todd Johnson 12 years, 1 month, 3 weeks 2010-2022 framed archival inkjet print 95 x 95 cm

Amber Smith

Persuasion and sacrifice: the poetics of learning to love again 2018 found wooden box with brass inlay, found atlas image, tissue paper, pocket-sized New Testament bible, waxed string, sea-glass, human hair, artists own Polaroids, tape, paper bark and assemblage

12 x 20 x 5 cm

Fiona Lee

Potential Unlimited (Level ARI) 2010 framed printed certificates with red circular paper adhesive sticker 30 x 32 cm each

Penelope Hunt Looking Forward 1990 pigment print on Cansen Rag

80 x 60 cm

Penelope Hunt Prized Collection 1988 reprint 2022 hand printed silver gelatin print 53 x 42 cm

Dan J Koop printed invitation to his student performance as part of the production I buy therefore I am 1998 21 x 17 cm

Aaron Hoffman (Bed) 2015 resin, fibreglass and paint 70 x 90 x 25 cm (approx.)

Joel Gailer

Untitled 2002 artist book, monotype and hand-written text on Magnani paper, bound 30 x 60 x 2 cm

Sorcha Wilcox Squid: Quantum Interference Studies (1-4) 2009 pigment print 30 x 20 cm each

Anne Scott Wilson

TurnReturn 2001 medium format analogue photograph digitally printed on lustre archival photo paper

97.5 x 71.5 cm

Bruce Zhou

Lily 2001 digital video and animation

6 mins

Bruce Zhou Ming (Bright) 2004 digital video and animation

4 mins

Anne Scott Wilson

Billy 2008 digital video still photograph on rag photographique archival paper 107 x 126 cm

Sean Loughrey

Untitled (Sticks) 1987 oil, paper and wax on canvas

40.5 x 53 cm

Katie Lee

Untitled 1998 etching on paper 112 x 71.5 cm

Katie Lee

Untitled 1998 etching on paper 112 x 71.5 cm

Simon Grennan

Dalek in Landscape 2011 oil on canvas

Deakin University Art Collection

Purchase, 2011