When I was 12, I broke my back.
A doctor said, "I'm really sorry. When I was 12, I broke my back.
A doctor said, "I'm really sorry.
"You're not gonna be able to move again."
So I spent quite a lot of time in the children's ward at the hospital.
And much later, many years later,
somebody was working on my back.
And they were pressing on my back.
And suddenly - boom!
I was back in the hospital.
It was the sudden, very vivid memory.
And it was not the way I'd told the story.
I was remembering children, uh, crying.
It was this incredible smell of medicine
It was this and this darkness,
and the sounds of this hospital.
All of these kids I had erased from my mind.
So I'm like, "Wait a second.
"Who's telling this story?"
"Which events really am I remembering?"
I'm now overlaying another story as I'm telling you this story.
Every time you recall something, it's different.
But you tell the story that you can tell.
NAMILA: It's funny how memories work.
You know, the ways that we attach stories to them
You know, the ways that and how they change over time.
Why do some stick,
others slip away,
and some appear when you least expect them?
What I want to know is how do we hold onto the memories that matter? and some appear when you least expect them?
What I want to know is how do we hold onto the memories that matter?
So I'm heading to meet artists
who capture, document
and help us understand memories.
And I think I know just where to start.
ELECTRONIC VOICE: Going up.
I did sound check, make-up,
then meet and greet.
No, no, no. Designer came for then meet and greet.
No, no, no. Designer came for the dress. Meet and greet.
No, no, no. Designer came for Photo shoot.
Yep. A day in the life of Alok is a lot.
Poet, performer, fashion icon, activist.
Poet, performer, We are so fucking powerful.
Their presence bends time, place and expectation.
Hi. I'm Alok.
In tonight's show, I'm going to be weaving comedy with poetry
because I identify as a pretentious piece of shit.
Alok's performance uses the memories that shaped them
to connect with audiences in over 40 countries,
to connect with audiences in turn, creating powerful new ones.
Photo shoot.
And then now this. Now this show. When's sleep? When's sleep?
That's important.
You know, the Tricia Hersey Rest Is Resistance.
Yeah.
Tell me, in comedy, how do you choose what to use
and what to leave out, when it comes to memory?
Every single day I write down what I do, what I think, what I feel.
So that when I'm working on a new show,
I don't have to start from scratch.
I can go back to my memory and say,
"Wasn't it so funny when this thing happened?"
I was recently back home in Texas
and my Uber driver was like,
"Alok?
"That's the strangest name I've ever seen.
"That's the strangest name "How do you spell that?"
I mean, it was written right there on the phone screen, actually.
And I'm constantly in conversation with past versions of myself.
I was excited to learn about a new culture too.
So I asked my driver, 'Nat-han',
what his name meant in his culture.
Are there particular memories
that continuously show up in your work?
Yes, so many.
Um, so I have so many stories from just growing up in Texas as a kid
and some of the most horrendous racism, xenophobia, homophobia
I was experiencing.
Tonight, I want to make the argument that trans people are human.
(CHEERING)
So now, as an adult, I get to go back into those painful memories
and use humour to kind of detoxify them.
By which I mean insufferable, just like you.
I know, as a student of history,
it's not a question of if,
it's a question of when we will be erased.
And so I see memory as a political project.
We have to document that we were here,
and we have to become so flagrant and so flamboyant
that any attempt to kind of expunge us from the record won't work.
that any attempt to kind of expunge In revisiting particular memories,
do you find, Alok, that they change over time?
100%.
Some of the most painful things that I've gone through
Some of the most painful things now no longer faze me.
What do you hope people take away from
the memories that you share on stages?
Permission. Mm.
Permission. Permission to be complex.
Permission to be human.
Because memory is one of the most beautiful things
that makes us human.
When Grandpa died,
the hospice nurses told us that his death would be painless.
I mistakenly thought that meant it would be quick.
Love means noticing everything about someone,
developing an acute sensitivity
to the aliveness of everything they touch.
And that's precisely why it's so lethal,
because then you end up missing everything when it's gone.
I think one of the defining features of our species
I think one of is our capacity to dream
and our capacity to remember.
I'm just a girl boy standing in front of the world!
I'm just a girl boy standing (CHEERING)
Thank you so much.
Thank you so much. Thank you.
As Alok steps up to share their memories with a packed house...
..their ideas have me thinking.
Some of my most cherished memories
come from my homeland, Papua New Guinea,
come from my homeland, but also Melbourne, where I grew up.
And these artists bring those worlds together,
all while holding onto treasured memories.
The Tatana Village Choir all the way from Port Moresby,
proudly walking through Naarm led by Aaron Choulai,
artistic director of the Australian Art Orchestra.
Hey! Wantok.
(SPEAKS INAUDIBLY) Hey! Wantok.
(SPEAKS INAUDIBLY) Hello.
Good to see you. Oh! Looking forward to this.
Good to see you. I'm excited because the choir
have invited me I'm excited because the choir
have invited me to the Playhouse in Melbourne
for a sneak peek of the final dress rehearsal for their show
for a sneak peek of the final Ane Ta Abia.
Ane Ta Abia in Motu,
translated it really means Ane Ta Abia in Motu,
translated it really means "sing a song".
Like, ane abia, translated it really means "sing a song".
Like, ane abia,
it's like fucking sing.
(SING IN MOTU)
This is the sound of Peroveta,
a unique choral tradition in Motuan culture.
The musical form was born during 19th-century colonisation,
combining the hymns of Western missionaries
with traditional Papuan harmonies.
But for many, like Aaron,
it carries something deeper.
A bond with home through memory.
My connection to it is I was born in Papua New Guinea.
And when I moved to Australia,
all I wanted to do was to fit in.
And so I ignored any type of cultural connection to PNG.
And so I ignored any type To me it was kind of embarrassing.
The food that we ate wasn't the same as other people.
The music I listened to wasn't the same.
We didn't speak the same language.
But there is one language that's universal.
Aaron would find a place to belong in jazz.
And it would take him across the world,
from Melbourne to New York to Tokyo.
But music has a way of circling back.
And eventually he would reconnect with the sounds of his past.
When I was 19, my mother passed away.
And I went back to Port Moresby.
And throughout that whole period,
people would just start And throughout that whole period,
people would just start singing Peroveta.
I remember sitting outside with my uncles
I remember sitting outside listening to the music and was like,
"This is some of the most beautiful music I've ever heard."
And now, as a composer,
Aaron is creating something new
by combining the musical memories of his family and childhood
with the traditions of jazz improvisation.
(PLAYS JAZZ)
(SPEAKS MOTU)
(ALL SING PEROVETA IN MOTU)
A lot of the music we participate in
has a dark history associated with it,
and people have suffered for it,
and people have suffered culturally.
And it's powerful to be reminded of that
And it's powerful because it makes the motivation
to turn this thing into something beautiful.
Yes!
It takes me back to my childhood days.
Looking at my grandparents.
I'm also in tears remembering Looking at my grandparents.
I'm also in tears remembering how they held onto the Peroveta.
MAN:
Whoo!
What a note to end off on.
Wow. I gotta say, I'm kind of blown away.
To take memories so painful, beautiful and complex
and reshape them into something healing
and reshape them is truly special.
But memories are more than just personal.
But memories They're also institutional,
shaped by the places
that collect, display, and claim to preserve them.
To see how institutions decide which memories to keep
and how these stories shape Australia's identity,
I'm heading to meet art historian Mary McGillivray.
I'm heading to meet art historian Let's go in, yeah.
(WHISPERS) Let's go in, yeah.
(WHISPERS)
So I've got something pretty special to show you.
So I've got something pretty special Namila, this is an image
of the first public art gallery in Australia.
And here we have a scene of this hall, Queen's Hall,
And here we have as it was set up originally
as an art gallery, as a picture gallery for the public.
What I find particularly fascinating about this image, though,
is really how little has changed in 150 years
since this gallery opened.
And look at the people who were milling about.
I'm not seeing any sisters in there, Mary.
Unfortunately, there's a lot of bonnets and petticoats instead.
There sure are. And also a very middle-class crowd.
Yeah, it still feels very recognisable.
Yeah, it still feels What's changed, right?
And it's kind of wild when you think about arts institutions
and the objects and collections that they have within,
how it really shapes ideas of nationhood and national identity.
Art galleries and museums
are obviously making decisions all the time
about what they collect, what they keep.
And these types of collections in the 19th century
And these types of collections prioritised European artworks,
colonial Australian artworks.
They didn't consider First Nations people and their artworks
as being important to hold for the public in a public gallery.
So I think when we think about institutions,
So I think the institutional memory
that carries so much of our national identity
is something that we need to interrogate.
is something We need to look at images like this,
think about what's missing, not just what's there.
I've loved seeing both of these, um, books.
I'm a bit disappointed, though, that there were no white gloves.
I thought I could feel official with doing that.
I thought I could feel official But let's keep moving, Mary.
Thank you for this.
Yep, no white gloves for me.
But maybe that's for the best.
Because holding onto memories doesn't have to mean
Because holding onto memories locking them away behind glass.
For some, the memories that matter
belong on the streets.
How are you going?
Which brings me to Aretha Brown.
My role as an Aboriginal artist Which brings me to Aretha Brown.
My role as an Aboriginal artist
that have been forgotten
is about telling memories that have been forgotten
or selectively forgotten. So... that have been forgotten
or selectively forgotten. So...
(EXHALES) That makes me need a cuppa.
Let's go and grab one. (EXHALES) That makes me need a cuppa.
Let's go and grab one. Yeah, let's go.
Let's go and grab one. Wow, yum. Look at that pull!
Look at that. See you guys later.
Look at that. For Aretha, keeping memories alive...
Hey, you mob! So we've just finished our big work here in Tokyo.
..means keeping them loud and proud.
We're always in solidarity with mob all over the world.
She founded the Kiss My Art Collective in 2019,
planting large-scale public murals around the world
planting large-scale public murals from Tokyo to Toronto,
New York, London and Timor-Leste...
Yeah, definitely.
..to right here at home.
Aretha's campaign to challenge the power of institutional memory
began in the most familiar institution of them all.
Yeah, so I remember I, like, only finished high school
a couple of years ago,
and I moved at that point in time
from living with my mum and community
up in northern New South Wales
to living with my dad in the city, which was like a big change for me.
And I remember, yeah, I would walk pretty much into history class
and there would be our history textbook,
and the first page would be, you know, the Aboriginal people here.
The next 400 pages would be all colonial history.
Yeah, I would then go home and I'd talk to Nan on the phone
and we'd be talking about stuff that's still relevant.
You know, her history with the Stolen Generations,
Uncle Gary Foley and the Tent Embassy.
And just, like, incredible,
important black history in this country.
important black history And I would go to school
and I'd want to talk about them and have more answers.
But we weren't learning about any of that.
And so I always felt like kind of educationally gaslit, you know?
Oh! I was like, "I feel crazy!"
That's the term! Educationally gaslit.
That's the term! 'Cause I knew that this stuff was...
Shaped by that experience...
..Aretha fought back...
..and started making new memories.
How do you choose what stories to put on those walls?
I really like responding to what's happening now,
as well as mixing in historical moments
and historical figures and stories that I also think is important.
But it's also important for me physically,
as a young Aboriginal woman,
to paint that work, and for people to see me paint it.
Because there's been moments where I've been in another country,
even in the UK, where someone came up to me and said,
"Oh, I didn't even know Aboriginal people still existed."
What? Yeah. Can you believe that?
So for me, it's about decolonising
by literally taking up space with my body,
not only as an Aboriginal person, but as a woman.
not only as an Aboriginal person, (CHEERING)
I mean, I think art is a really great way to do that.
(CHEERING)
Aretha, so good to chat. And we haven't even eaten.
I know! Should we try? Yeah, I'm gonna have more of this.
Aretha has shown me how memories aren't just stories we tell.
By holding onto the ones that matter and fighting for them,
they can promote change and help us let go of false narratives.
But what happens when memory meets technology?
Is the cloud just a digital dumping ground?
Or in a modern world, can computers save the memories that really matter?
Are you good? (MAN SPEAKS INDISTINCTLY)
Are you alright?
You got it. Oh, look at that!
OK. Alright. OK, here's a clap for you.
I know you're never going to use that, but...
MAN: Take one.
Laurie Anderson.
For nearly five decades,
she's embraced technology in the most unexpected ways.
A pioneering artist,
she's woven together music, performance, visual art and cinema,
crafting experiences that defy definition.
I met this guy.
At the heart of it, Laurie is a storyteller...
At the heart of it, To walk around in my dreams.
..who explores the past, present, and future.
(DISTORTED VOICE) You've been on this road before.
So how does Laurie explore the domain of memory?
You have a long and wonderful history
You have a long of working with art and technology.
Can you tell us about the I'll Be Your Mirror project? of working with art and technology.
Can you tell us about the I'll Be Your Mirror project?
I got the chance to do that in Adelaide
I got the chance at the Machine Learning Institute.
And I got there and they said,
"OK, this is the largest language supercomputer in the world.
"You're the artist in residence. What do you want it to do?"
Anyway, I said, "Let's teach this supercomputer to read the Bible."
Anyway, I said, "Let's teach this They took everything that I've ever
written, said or recorded or whatever,
written, said or recorded and they crossed it with the Bible.
"And for some, it was the inevitable last stage."
And I was like, "This sounds like me."
It was in my language, the ways I was talking.
I felt I wrote that Bible.
And then Laurie tried feeding the same machine
And then Laurie the words of her late husband,
the Velvet Underground frontman and pop icon Lou Reed.
Can we talk about AI Laurie and AI Lou and creating together?
Can we talk about AI Laurie Well, obviously I don't think that
I'm making songs with Well, obviously I don't think that
I'm making songs with my dead husband, but we did.
"But my life is so much easier now."
It's really pretty hideous 'cause it doesn't have a sense of humour.
"I can't get into it, I'm not looking for it.
"What do you want..."
It doesn't have his laugh.
You don't hear him breathing, 'cause machines don't need to breathe.
You don't hear him breathing, 'cause "Let's have a little fun."
When a machine starts speaking in your voice,
telling stories in the words of your loved ones,
it raises a strange kind of question.
(DISTORTED VOICE) Exactly who is in charge here? it raises a strange kind of question.
(DISTORTED VOICE) Exactly who is in charge here?
If memory can be simulated,
rewritten or reassembled,
then what makes it truly yours?
What does memory mean to you?
I have come to the conclusion
that there's no such thing as memory.
For example, I was asked to write a book of memoirs.
"I want to tell you a story about a story." For example, I was asked to write a book of memoirs.
"I want to tell you a story about a story."
And one of those stories was called about a story."
And one of those stories was called
A Story About A Story.
When I was 12...
..I was jumping off a high board.
And I thought, "I'm gonna do a triple flip."
It was really hard, and I ended...
Whoo! Landed on the side of the pool, and I broke my back.
Whoo! Landed on the side of So I was in a brace like this...
Uh...uh.
..for two years, 12 to 14.
And then much later, many years later,
somebody asked me what it was like in the hospital.
And suddenly - boom!
I was back in the hospital.
I was in the unit with the burn victims,
and so it was the sounds of all these children,
and so it was the sounds all night, screaming.
And it was not the way I'd told the story.
I had forgotten all of this.
So I'm not sure sometimes what really is in the past.
"You get your story and you hold onto it.
"And every time you tell it, you forget it...more."
As much as we're compelled to hold onto our dearest memories,
Laurie's work is a reminder they're neither fixed or forever.
But even as they fade,
through art, our memories can still have an extraordinary impact.
(ON TAPE) My name is Gwlad McLachlan,
and I'll be presenting a program My name is Gwlad McLachlan,
and I'll be presenting a program
about the role of women during the war.
These tapes were recorded by an award-winning oral historian...
MAN: (ON TAPE) You've got no idea what the winters were like.
..who spent much of her life documenting other people's memories.
WOMAN: (ON TAPE) You could join the Land Army at 17.
WOMAN: (ON TAPE) You could Quite a few of us did that.
Hi, there, Gwlad! Quite a few of us did that.
Hi, there, Gwlad!
And I've come to meet her today.
Good to meet you. Oh, lovely to meet you, too.
I actually met Gwlad two years ago.
Have we met before?
Yeah.
There's a reason Yeah.
There's a reason Gwlad doesn't remember.
For 10 years she's been living with advanced Alzheimer's.
For 10 years she's been living At the Preston Town Hall.
Preston Town Hall. At the Preston Town Hall.
Preston Town Hall. True?
Preston Town Hall. And for the past 40 years,
best friend Cheryl has been by her side.
Sometimes I say to her, "Who am I?"
So I can be the secretary. Sometimes I say to her, "Who am I?"
So I can be the secretary.
I can be the carer. I can be the driver.
But there's one area where Gwlad...
Now let's see if we can play this.
..will always have the upper hand.
Have I got it up the right way?
The other way around.
Oh! And I... (LAUGHTER)
I'm ready.
# For the Bible tells me... #
I think we'd better not sing it.
(LAUGHTER)
Incredibly, even as Gwlad's memory deteriorates,
her lifelong connection to music remains.
Oooh!
This led to participating in a research project
studying the impact choir singing could have
for people living with dementia and their care partners.
for people living with dementia Excellent!
Out of it came the Rewire Musical Memories Choir,
Out of it came the where daughter Helen,
along with Gwlad and Cheryl
come to sing every Friday.
Sorry, Gwlad, they're going to make a fuss of you.
You're not camera shy or anything, are you?
You're not camera shy or anything, I don't know what's happening.
(LAUGHTER)
That's OK.
I've got a lovely person with me.
You do? You brought a guest?
Yes. Guest of honour.
Namila.
May I ask for a song from you?
We Are One. We Are One.
Oh, I Am Australian? Yes.
Oh, I Am Australian? Yeah.
ALL: (SING) # I came from the Dreamtime
# From the dusty red-soil plains... #
# From the dusty As Gwlad begins to play,
you can literally see her musical memories spring to life.
you can literally see # The keeper of the flames... #
But what's really going on here?
Can you talk me through your understanding of
what the connection is between music and memory?
We know that when we're listening to music
and when we're singing or playing an instrument We know that when we're listening to music
and when we're singing or playing an instrument
that our whole brain is lighting up.
We also know that the hippocampus,
which is kind of the memory processing centre, if you like,
is really close to the amygdala in the brain.
And the amygdala is responsible for emotions.
And the amygdala So when we're listening to music
that might be connected to So when we're listening to music
that might be connected to a really important part of our life,
that might be connected to like a wedding or a funeral...
# We are one... #
..a song that reminds us # We are one... #
..a song that reminds us of someone special...
..a song that reminds us # But we are many... #
..that's really being coded through that music as well,
..that's really being coded that emotional content is in there.
And music's very emotional.
# We are Australian. #
(APPLAUSE)
That was beautiful. Oh, what an emotional song.
And sitting with Gwlad, I can see it too.
Through music, distant memories come alive.
When I was little, I lived on a farm.
And it was a lovely childhood, really.
I can remember
my sister was a good musician.
She used to play at church.
That's right.
And then when she wasn't around,
I'd muck around on the piano. (CHUCKLES)
That's when it started.
Holding onto memory
has always mattered to Gwlad.
She began as a nurse,
but her true calling was capturing stories.
GWLAD: (ON TAPE) In 1991, Mary Lowe, with the help
of former Land Army women, published a story.
She spent years recording the voices of everyday Australians,
documenting memories so that they wouldn't be lost in time.
WOMAN: (ON TAPE) We were working out on the flats at Riddells Creek. documenting memories so that they wouldn't be lost in time.
WOMAN: (ON TAPE) We were working out on the flats at Riddells Creek.
We had a little song about it.
"Relax in these pretty flats
"Over the hills at Riddell. #
After dedicating herself to documenting the memories of others,
now music is helping preserve Gwlad's story.
Whoo!
Thank you. (LAUGHS)
This is so funny because I was a bit in a dream yesterday, wasn't I?
This is so funny because I was a bit You were. Yep.
And for daughter Helen and best friend Cheryl...
And for daughter Helen CHERYL: Who am I?
You're my very best friend, Cheryl.
Oh, my God.
..these fleeting moments are precious.
I'm glad that you remembered me like that.
Thank you.
And this lady, just over offering me Thank you.
And this lady, just over offering me a cup of tea or coffee,
And this lady, just over offering me has ended up our friendship today.
That's beautiful. Mm.
That's beautiful. Ah, love it.
You're like my daughter.
She wants to officially adopt.
(LAUGHTER)
After spending time with Gwlad
and the other incredible artists I've met on this journey,
it's clear that art can help us hold onto the memories that truly matter.
Whether it's the places we've lived,
the wrongs we tried to right,
or the friends we met along the way,
our stories are what we leave behind.
GWLAD: (ON TAPE) After talking with a number of people,
it became clear that there were many women
who played vital roles during the war
and the women we're going to hear from are Kit Brown, Mary White,
Mary Lowe, Elaine Peters and Vi Malcolm.
WOMAN: (ON TAPE) In spare time we either played tennis
or went to the pictures or whatever.
But before I head home,
there's some new memories I want to make.
(CHOIR SINGS PEROVETA IN MOTU)
Captions by Red Bee Media
Copyright Australian Broadcasting Corporation