The Bogong Centre for Sound Culture is a remote-regional cultural initiative situated in the foothills of Victoria’s Alpine National Park. Established by Philip Samartzis and Madelynne Cornish the B-CSC supports projects focusing on the processes and impacts of sustainable energy production; effects of climate change in wilderness areas; ethnographic studies of remote communities; the chronicling of vanishing industrial procedures; and systems of representation used to render natural and built environments.
Additionally, the B-CSC facilitates a broad cultural program comprising, festivals, exhibitions, publications, master classes and artists’ talks focusing on site-specific art practices. These programs establish a connection with place, its inhabitants, geographic space and memory. They engage a wide range of audiences, bringing together local, interstate and international artists across multiple disciplines and fields to realise ambitious works.
The B-CSC is situated at the newly restored old school at Bogong Alpine Village located 350 kilometres from Melbourne in North East Victoria.
Acknowledgment of Country
The B-CSC acknowledge the Dhudhuroa, Gunai, Taungurung, Waywurru and Yaitmathang peoples as the First Nations and Traditional Owners of the land upon which the Bogong Centre for Sound Culture is located. We pay our respects to the Elders, past, present and future for they hold the knowledge and traditions of the land and waterways upon which we depend.
About Bogong Village
Bogong Alpine Village is 325 kilometres North-East of Melbourne situated at an altitude of 800 meters in the Alpine National Park between Mount Beauty and Falls Creek. The village was established in the late 1930s to service the first hydroelectric scheme in mainland Australia. More recently it has become a popular site for alpine sports, recreation and ecotourism. Click here for directions.
A Short History
Work on the Kiewa Scheme commenced in 1938 with the construction of a road from Tawonga to the High Plains. Previously the only access was by foot or horseback along tracks that had been forged by cattlemen of a bygone era. Bogong Village was established once the road from Junction Camp was trafficable (March 1939); this paved the way for the construction of permanent buildings. Prior to that life was tough; large canvas tents and flies were used for sleeping quarters and smaller tents were set up to house the kitchens. By 1940 Bogong Township had grown considerably with a general store, staff offices, recreational mess, police station, and a variety of accommodation such as single men’s quarters and residences for married staff and families.
Bogong State School
In 1941 the Primary School at Bogong Village enrolled its first intake of students comprising nine pupils. Initially the school consisted of a large classroom, storeroom and boys and girls toilets. Extensions were carried out in 1944, which expanded the capabilities of the school. A library, storeroom, pupil’s lunchroom and shelter shed were added and rock gardens were established. By 1947 the number of students had grown to 46 all of whom were children of local SEC workers. Over the years class sizes fluctuated and the building remained unchanged. In 1980 it ceased to operate as a school and sat idle, eventually falling into disrepair. In 2004 it was sold along with many other buildings in the village.
Madelynne Cornish and Philip Samartzis bought the Old School and set about restoring it to its former glory. The rotting weatherboards and floorboards, smashed windows and flaking paint are now a distant memory. The newly refurbished building occupies it’s original footprint and bares a strong resemblance to it’s former self. Although the internals have been modernized remnants of it’s past history remain. The Old School once played a significant role in the fabric of village life. It inspired the community and helped shape the minds of those who studied there. It is our intention as custodians that the School once again functions as a place of inspiration.
Reference: Kiewa Kids School Days at Bogong & Mount Beauty by Graham Gardner
Sitting here in the Bogong residency grounds I am looking out onto rusty play equipment of the school that once was. I’m joined by the eight-year-old version of myself who tells me a story I had forgotten to remember.
St Peter & Paul’s Primary School, 1987. Third Grade.
We were up on the back oval playing softball when it happened. A patient from the psych ward at the hospital down the road had slipped the wardens, fled the hospital grounds and made his way to our school. Somewhere along the way he had come across a hammer and it was with this that he made busy smashing our school's windows.
An inkling that something was awry raced ahead of the teacher running our way. She was calling to us from a distance, directing us off the oval & out of the school grounds. She attempted to convey a calm urgency but triggered an excitable panic. And so we ran, heart in throats, convinced of an unknown threat bearing down on us. The fastest runners lead us to Darren’s house three blocks away where we would all be safe. All of us except for Ben.
Ben was the unlucky one. At the pivotal moment he had gone scurrying in the bushes for the ball and missed the unfolding drama. Having retrieved the ball, Ben returned to the oval in time to see the last of us dashing down the path. Thinking this was an impromptu jog he started trotting in our direction. Until he encountered a man with a hammer.
Excitement and anticipation surrounded Ben's first day back after the incident. This was the biggest thing that had ever happened at our school. And someone from our class had the starring role. We moved in on Ben as he peeled back the bandage. But instead of the hammer-shaped divot in his skull, as I had imagined it to be, we gazed in at something more mundane. It’s Betadine-yellow hue may have added a touch of drama to the wound, but in reality there was nothing more than a short gash, neatly stitched. Disappointed, we drifted back to our schoolyard games. But with the bandage back in place, our imaginations were free to unpick the stitches and enlarge that wound to proportions appropriate for our retellings of the tale.
