Embodied Writing Practices

Helen Hughes:

Hello everyone. And welcome to today's Form x Content discussion, which is presented by Khadija von Zinnenburg Carroll and Verónica Tello and myself. I'm Helen Hughes. I'm a Senior Lecturer in Art History, Theory and Curatorial Practice here at Monash University. I'm in my office at Monash on the Caulfield Campus, which is on unceded Kulin Nation land. And of course, I pay my respect to Kulin Nation Elders and ancestors and extend that respect to all First Nations people who are listening today. I've been asked to describe myself and where I'm sitting for the purposes of some of our listeners and viewers. So I've got my office door behind me, which you could call the colour of sort of sallow-sickly-green. I've got blonde hair. I'm still growing out some of my home haircut jobs from Melbourne's lockdown last year, got white skin and a blue shirt on today.

The topic of our discussion today is embodied writing practices as a new method in art history. And each of us is coming at this theme or method in a slightly different way in our own research. But mainly we're having this conversation in response to Khadija's new book, "The Contested Crown: Repatriation Politics Between Europe and Mexico," which has just been published by the University of Chicago Press. And Verónica and I both had the pleasure of reading this book in the last few weeks, though somehow I managed to leave my copy of it at home this morning. So I'm not sure if either of you can hold it up to the screen. But given the theme of embodied writing, we thought that instead of me reeling off the CVs of Khadija and Verónica, we'd just go around the room and introduce ourselves and the Country we're speaking from today because we're all in different parts of Australia. So Khadija, I'll hand over to you.

Khadija von Zinnenburg Carroll:

Yeah. Greetings from Millowl, the traditional land and waters of the Bunurong people who I'd like to pay my deepest respects to. This is the part of the Pacific that is my ocean, and my mountains as it were, are very far away in the Austrian Alps. And I talk about that a bit more in the book, the distance between these two loci that I'm from. I'm working as a Professor of Comparative History at the Central European University in Vienna and of Global Art at the University of Birmingham in the United Kingdom. And yeah, I look forward to the conversation. Over to you, Verónica.

Verónica Tello:

Thanks Khadija and Helen. So I'm on the lands of the Bidjigal and Gadigal people of the Eora Nation and likewise would also like to pay my deepest respects to Elders past, present and future. So I identify as a Chilean-Australian art historian and work as a Senior Lecturer at UNSW Art and Design which is also on the lands of the Bidjigal and Gadigal people of the Eora Nation. Thank you.

Helen Hughes:

Cool. Well, as I said, Verónica and I read Khadija's book very closely and being the studious people we are, took lots of notes and we've got lots of questions for you. But we thought it would be better for everyone else listening, the audience, if you could give, Khadija, a short introduction to your book for people who haven't read it yet.

Khadija von Zinnenburg Carroll:

Absolutely. And also say a bit about our topic of embodied writing. That's what I-

Helen Hughes:

Yes. Very good point.

Khadija von Zinnenburg Carroll:

It links really nicely. And I'm so happy, Helen, thank you for hosting this and for the invitation, because it follows on really beautifully from the book that we did together, "The Importance of Being Anachronistic," that Discipline published with Third Text and this new book is really also about human relationships to objects in collections. And so I describe the bodies of material objects, although I don't call them objects, I actually treat them as subjects. And the ways in which they are, for example, inhabited by insects, birds, the movement of feathers in the wind, and yet also how that interlaces with forensics of conservation science. Because I'm talking about a feather work object called El Penacho, an Aztec feather crown that has long been thought or said to be too fragile to travel back to Mexico from Vienna, where it is in the museum.

And yet I uncover that that's actually a ruse, that actually there are political interests in of course keeping something so precious in the European museum collection. I approached this through sympathetic resonance and embodied writing for me is a turn to ethical handling of collections. The way this practice becomes public is in performance. The Restitution of Complexity is a performance lecture in which I take the images from this 500-year history and bring them into space and into an embodied storytelling. So the way I write at present and in this book is by walking, actually. So I use my voice and dictate text and draw on conversations, conversations with others, conversations with myself. And that's the kind of polyphony that I'm thinking through. So the idea of many voices that are not in any kind of hierarchy. This is a pretty instinctive approach in a way. I was interested in how to bring rhythm to my texts and also how to approach my writing as something site-specific, which I do in my installation and film practice.

But I realise that when I write in this way through walking and recording and then transcribing, that when I go back and transcribe that I'm actually also returning to that Country and that triggers memories and that fleshes out that text even further. So, as I said, in my introduction, I'm working at two ends of the Pacific Ocean at present. On one hand in Mexico, on the other where I am here in Millowl, Phillip Island. And yet also returning, and we'll talk about this later to these collections in Europe. I'll be, in the book, talking a little bit about other artists' interventions as well. So Eduardo Abaroa's "Total Destruction of The Museum" in Mexico City, Nina Höchtl's "Transcultural Legacy", Claudia Peña Salinas' "Quetzalli".

These are all or contemporary artists in Mexico City who are also approaching this very contested site. And this is all by way of introduction of the relationship of embodied writing to the Affective Turn, the implication of that for the "I" of the writer that Verónica has written about really compellingly. And this is a way also to pass over to her to introduce a little bit more about her work on embodiment.

Verónica Tello:

Thanks Khadija for throwing it towards me and thanks for that recounting of your book. So before this conversation, Helen and Khadija, and I had decided that we'd each, I guess, try and define embodied writing as a way of connecting our thinking and pushing that thinking together today. So I'll just, I guess, define that through the notes that I made. So I guess I would define embodied writing as being about positioning the "I", laying it bare, but also being relational an intimate... Being intimate with the subject matter rather than having critical distance. It's definitely to my mind about undoing the fiction of universal readings and objectivity. It's also ultimately about disconnecting from the tools we have inherited as our historians. So the tools of Kant, Hegel, Winckelmann, or what a dear friend of Helen and I, and founding editor of Discipline, Nick Croggon, calls the "Straight White Guy of Art History".

The acronym for that is SWGAH, pronounced "swagger". And I'm trying to mobilise this term as a key term of contemporary art history writing. So yeah, embodied writing is about taking inventory of what we have inherited, including that which we willingly acquired or that which has been imposed upon us. So to quote the Chicana writer, Gloria E. Anzaldúa, "We can put history through a sieve, winnow out the lies, look at the forces that we, as a race, as women have been part of. And from that take inventory of what we wish to carry forward." So it's about inheritance and tradition, including that which we want to reject. And it's finally about being present with and accountable to the histories we are writing. I think that the "I" of art history are one and the same and have to be enmeshed. And yeah, so I think Khadija does that really beautifully in the book. Yeah. I don't know if you want to have... Contribute Helen and define embodied writing as well, before we head to Khadija where she can talk more about her method.

Helen Hughes:

Yeah. Okay. I made some notes myself, actually. So I was thinking in terms of embodied writing, probably the aspect of my research that's most relevant to this topic is, and most relevant to the methods that Khadija uses in her book concerns settler colonial history in the Australian context. And yes, I guess what I've been very slowly but surely working on over the last few years is a history of convict art in Australia focusing on the period of transportation between 1787 and 1868. And this always comes up in the class that I teach on art writing in Monash, but if I'm being honest with myself, my art historical writing is very unexperimental, and it would probably be fair to describe it as disembodied. But it's something that I'm trying to bash out of my system. And as we were talking about before we started the recording today, working as an art historian in an art school was a really awesome way of exploding all those conventions that at least Verónica and I were taught in art history at University of Melbourne.

So I suppose the key thing I took from Khadija's book on this topic was the idea of understanding how family history can intersect with more public and collective histories. And interestingly, the first book on convict women written by Babette Smith, it's called "A Cargo of Women," has been described even a little contemptuously as a sophisticated family history because essentially in it, she's tracing the story of one of her ancestors, a convict woman named Susannah Watson. And I myself became interested in convict history through my dad who every year gives everyone in our family, a revised family history of the Hughes, Leleans, Moons, O'Tooles, which he always has spiral bounded at Officeworks. And my dad also has this really funny Anglosaxon middle name, which is Langford, which always sounded strange to my ears. And it turns out that the name comes from one of our convict ancestors who was a highway robber from Lancashire.

And my dad always found the association with this middle name, either embarrassing or funny, and to go back to what Verónica was saying about affect and embodied writing, these are the kinds of effects that I'm interested in exploring in the way that what convict ancestry, what kinds of effects it stirs up in white Australians. Because the figure of the convict has obviously always been used as a means of forging and forgetting aspects of settler Australian identity and history, whether the convict is repressed as an embarrassment to the family, or has became increasingly more common from the 1970s onwards becomes a misplaced source of ethnonationalist pride.

Anyway, I think I'll leave it at that, just with the affects associated with convict ancestry and white Australian identity. These are important to me because convicts not only were crucial to the invasion and colonisation of this continent, but they're also crucial to the foundation of non-indigenous Australian or settler Australian art history. But maybe this is a good moment because Khadija, in the book, family history is important. Also, I was thinking with my dad's middle name, a name is very important for you kind of unraveling your family history and how it relates to the topic of your book. So would you like to say a little bit more about how family history operates in your research?

Khadija von Zinnenburg Carroll:

I was really interested in the ethical implications of positioning my own family history rather than only telling other people's family histories, which inevitably is what you do when you're a historian, whether it's in the settler colony or of other artist biographies. And something I was often told here by Indigenous scholars was how important it was to not only know your own genealogy or Whakapapa as the Māori call it, but to, yeah, to really, I guess, inhabit that rather than this sort of quasi illusion of an objective, which I instinctively felt about academic writing, that assuming a distance to your material is actually quite unnatural and false. And once you begin to dismantle that illusion, you inevitably come back to yourself. And that's also very uncomfortable.

I mean the convict history is not clear, right? And it's also shifted over time, but what I found in my own family history, which it, as you say, one has to get through the kind of, the lay historians in the family who have come up with the versions that they find palatable. And at least the kind of rigorous application of archival research then brought me to a much more unexpected and also deeply colonial history. But not the colony that I had grown up in, in Australia, but rather this colonial relationship between Central Europe – Augsburg, Germany, the Habsburg empire – and Latin America, which through Charles V basically was colonised and was traded with. So slaves were sent in one direction and sugar, spices, all these things were the cargo that were on the boats when they weren't carrying slaves and looking at those kind of contracts that were made and the objects that were traded at the same time and collected into.

So the book is the object biography of one of these things that was on one of these boats. And it's not clear which one actually. And that's also part of its contestation is because that provenance isn't clear, and with this much older colonial history than we know from Australia. At the same time, I've always been intrigued by those histories of slavery that have used just a small line of an inventory or an insurance wager from a slaver or so. And out of that, like Stephanie Smallwood or Christina Sharpe’s "In the Wake," for example, is a book where she is able to really richly flesh out through ficto-criticism, a story of what might have happened to those people.

So that's what I'm doing, not actually to the people in my family, because I didn't want to kind of indulge in too much of that. And it did always feel like it was quite risky to actually write about any kind of family history because it is such a lowly kind of category of writing. But at the same time, yeah, I wanted to also turn that around and think about, if I was going to write a book about the ethics of ownership and property, then I think looking at one's own history of those property relations is a good place to start.

Helen Hughes:

Thank you.

Verónica Tello:

Khadija, can I jump in with a question? So... It's like being a student. So I guess yeah, one of the things that Helen and I also really enjoyed about your book and as two, I guess, art historians who trained in an art history department and now work at an art school was the way in which you made manifest your encounters with these different histories and subjects through practice-led research. And I think that for me, like a key I don't know if you would call a framework, but let's use that term now for now, a key framework for advancing embodied writing is practice-led research. In part because as you know, we're all aware, in an art school, it's all... Artists, unlike art historians are always performing themselves. Art historians tend to hide behind books or objects and make themselves as invisible as possible on the page.

And, yeah, what you begin every chapter, as Helen has noticed within epigraph of a... It's kind of like an atlas. We'll show an image of this, but it's an Atlas of the different images and reproductions that I guess that represent the different ways in which you've encountered, but also interpret and rearrange these subjects and cultural histories. So yeah, if you could kind of speak to how you write and think through practice-led research, you kind of embody subjectivity that is neither/or artists or historian or cultural historian. It's all of them. And I think that this is also key to embodied writing because you need to find different resources and tools to do that than any one discipline can offer.

Khadija von Zinnenburg Carroll:

Yeah. Thank you. Artistic research is definitely the framework in which I thought of this book and those epigraphs. I mean, I can talk about one that you will see on screen. And this has got Sigmund Freud with this collage of actually the very degraded backside of the Feather Crown. And it's been eaten by insects, but all once it got to Europe, so all the damage has happened post that passage from America to Europe. And there's some text over this very cut up kind of Freud wearing the crown, and that is "Stockholm Syndrome". And the Stockholm Syndrome I identify in the book is one where the victim identifies with and actually kind of adores the perpetrator, right? That's the kind of standard reading of Stockholm Syndrome. And the strange situation is that in Austria, this object, which they've kept now for, yeah, over 400 years is actually been instrumentalised politically, especially in the 20th century.

And these are chapters that are about the history of Holocaust looting of artworks during the Holocaust and the ways that historical framework has been used now in colonial cases. But I'm working on a more psychological level and Rubén Gallo actually wrote a beautiful book called "Freud's Mexico" about psychoanalysis, about a lot of the Jewish immigrants who escaped the Second World War, in Mexico and were given exile by the left wing Mexican government of the time. And I go through that history in more detail as well. But the irony is that those exiled, those Jewish exiles in Mexico then are the first to think that it would be a wonderful gift of thanks to actually have Austria in the post-war kind of mess that it's in as is this huge perpetrator state to actually give as a gift of thanks. And a gift of thanks, not only for saving these people, but also because it was the only country along with the Soviet Union to actually protest at the League of Nations, the annexation of Austria in 1938.

So the Nazis just very easily take Austria because there are so many fascists within Austria and Mexico actually says, this is the death of this nation and brings it to the UN at the time. And that is used later. Later, of course, Vienna and Austria will claim that they were victims, that actually, yeah, they were annexed by Germany, this much larger state and that they had no agency. And that proof of that was that Mexico stood up for them and tried to rescue them. And later they would then also, this is in the sort of '90s, in the '80s and '90s, this discussion gets going because there are all sorts of trials, Kurt Waldheim for example, is one, who's a Senator who's then... All the Nazi kind of histories are starting to be revealed. And it becomes clear that the Austrians are going to use this object to try and remind people that actually they were good and Mexico could identify this.

So this kind of strange relationship also on the Mexican side of, on one hand, hating Austria for being the coloniser in the 19th century, because the Habsburgs had this three-year emperor of Mexico who was an Austrian in the mid-19th century, but also at the same time through the legacy that he left of building this... beginning, the first major museum in Mexico City, et cetera, also having a deep identification and yeah, and kind of affection for Austria. So that's the kind of weird entanglement. I realise that's very complex and might be like, "Whoa, what's going on there?" But that's the kind of mesh and why I use this diagrammatic layout for each chapter was to begin to put some of the key terms out. You've got terms in all sorts of different languages. You've got Nahuatl, Quetzalcoatl is the Nahuatl name for this piece. And Nahuatl is a language that is beginning to be learned and use more. There's always the Spanish, German also, because it's talking about German memorial culture and yeah, and some other English terms that you'll see. Yeah.

Helen Hughes:

Thank you. So another, the really strong values that comes through reading your book, which I think is really relevant to talk about in terms of embodied writing practices, is that of being an active or even activists art historian, which is a figure you juxtapose with the armchair historian who ends up... This one particular armchair historian. Is it Anders? I'm trying to remember the name, becomes this kind of key character or strawman even in the book, appropriately. But I suppose one thing I'd be really in interested in hearing you speak a little bit more about is a decision that you made quite early on in your career to sort of effectively succeed from Australia or leave and go to Europe where you can get stuck into European colonial archives and make change happen from there.

Khadija von Zinnenburg Carroll:

Yeah. So Ferdinand Anders just as a figure is very important because you have this authoritative historian who is always advising the government there about the kind of proper history and what can be said and what can't be said. And he keeps being cited. So in a sense, it's very interesting to have a character like that who has a huge library. This is what we mean by armchair, just to sort of flesh that out, but doesn't feel the need to ever travel to Latin America because he has more books he says than any library he would have access to there. And he can write his kind of authoritative history from the comforts of his home, in the countryside in Austria.

I decided rather reverse that strategy because of course you can do that, that armchair exists anywhere in the world. It's more the way in which you decide to either sit in it or as I thought to return, I mean on one hand, get myself off the unceded territory because that didn't seem a viable place from which to launch the kind of critique or to think through my own implication or positionality anymore. And I moved to the States and to various parts of Europe and thought that actually the colonial archive had so much in it that... I mean, there wasn't colonial that was actually looted. And perhaps even just a mediating role of giving access to that material and making that material public was something that I could do as a first step. And there was a fantastic intervention of this kind actually in the museum that I've been working in Vienna just of the past months.

And that is two activists, filmmakers got a bunch of young people to replace the audio guides in the museum with a different narrative about this Penacho about this Quetzalcoatl piece we're talking about. And they use the voice of the protestors that I site at length in this kind of polyphonic approach that's a bit like attempting a Benjaminian "Passagenwerk" where I just let the protestors speak because they're never cited in the press and they're always ridiculed. And someone like Ferdinand Anders just thinks that they're bad kind of speaking kind of tourist Latin and just is always poo-pooing them.

But actually what they have to say of course is that kind of firsthand approach of the traditional owners. And so all of a sudden for the first few months, if someone went to the museum, they actually heard their voices, but the museum itself hadn't realised. And then the activists revealed this to the press. And it was all very uncomfortable in the museum because it's diligently trying to decolonise itself, ideally with artists that haven't been invited were quite happy and said, oh, this is just the kind of approach that we've been hoping for. So the that's been a good example, for example.

Verónica Tello:

Thanks, yeah. Outsourcing decolonising. So building on what you were just saying Khadija in terms... And I know that as you've spoken today and yeah, for those that read the book or have read the book will note the polyphony of voices that are embedded in the text. And so I thought, I mean, I'm personally, as someone who is writing this form, but very recently, only the last year, really. Interested in what your pitch was to the University of Chicago Press and their reception. Because obviously the topic is compelling, but the armchair historian is still very easily publishable, even though it might be read by a very limited audience, it's still seen as the easier route to take. I know that in the peer reviews for the couple of essays that I've developed, either in a, yeah, in a performative form of embodied writing, or as written as letters has been received, I mean, negatively and positively, but definitely always wanting an abstract or an introduction that shoves the essay back into a conventional form.

So yeah, University of Chicago press is emerging, to my mind. I don't know what you think, Helen, but it's like a really interesting art historical publisher at the moment. So yeah, keen to hear what your experience has been.

Khadija von Zinnenburg Carroll:

Yeah. So they really helped me a lot. They were amazing in terms of tone because I wanted to write something that was for everyone to read and not heavily theoretical the way like "Art in the Time of Colony" my previous monograph is. So, and it was a fine line that we trod. They said as soon as Derrida is mentioned this is not a trade book, this will put a lot of readers off, but that wasn't a trade that I would make. Derrida is still in there, but the script for my performance was the basis for the book. And that definitely got heavily reworked. And I inserted it again at the end, but it wasn't like... They were willing to have some experimental piece of writing. It had to be something that would be kind to the reader that was actually easy to, yeah, to, to digest for someone who's not an expert in any of the material.

And I really appreciate the way they help through editing or rather through constantly sending it back to me and saying, rework it over, really a long time that the text became what it is now, but that's been my experience you've said of submitting things that are experimental writing, descriptions of performances or things that are not an academic essay. And publishers usually, I mean, allowing it, but only allowing it if it's sort of at the beginning and framed, and then you do something else as well.

I mean, even in my education in the States, it was the same. It was sort of, there was an appreciation of the weirdness of something outside of traditional academic writing. But at the same time, you always had to demonstrate that you understood and can also do that. So I don't think we're there yet that we have a publishing world or an audience that is willing to... And I think it partly is the market, right? That something like Chicago, it is a very market-aware press. And this is what readers want. They want something easy, and unfortunately experimental and easy don't go together, so.

Verónica Tello:

Yeah.

Khadija von Zinnenburg Carroll:

We live in our enclaves of the art school and are much more interested in reading something that's nonlinear and fun. But I think realistically, that's a very small percentage and that's why there are these art books and they have their own kind of world. And then something like this book is... I guess the real challenge for me was how to balance both those things, how to keep the artistic research and practice in there. I mean, I would've loved full colour and full page spreads, and a complete, and a book that looks like an art book, but also that... So there was a constant negotiation with the press in which I had very little say in the decisions. And I just had to sort of be grateful and think that they know best, so.

Verónica Tello:

Yeah, it is interesting that it's for the last, I don't know, more than a decade, it's publishes like e-flux or Sternberg, which do prioritise the artist's voice and practice-led research. Maybe the most influential essayists of our generation has been Hito Steyerl, for example. So I think there is a real, yeah, maybe very unhealthy disconnect between what people are reading and what academic presses in art history are publishing generally. Yeah. Because it's also, I'm also just thinking of like in queer theory, feminist theory, figures like Julietta Singh or Jack Halberstam or Gloria E. Anzaldúa for generations have been doing embodied writing. It's not an issue in those areas, just in crusty old art history.

Khadija von Zinnenburg Carroll:

I mean, Helen runs and publishes so many wonderful things through Discipline and it's so admirable to actually begin a press so that you can shape the space of Australian art history. So yeah. Please say something about how you approach it as an editor. Because I know how we approach it as editors of Third Text, which is more of a journal and we try to include people who absolutely who don't have English as a first language for example, we're very dedicated to that. But then you give it out to peer review, as you have to. And all of a sudden you're at the mercy of these academics who are experts, but just hate experimental writing. It's a SWGAH problem.

Helen Hughes:

It is a SWGAH problem. The question was something about Discipline. Well, the very easy way to respond to that is to say that Discipline has never been peer-reviewed or indeed accepted by the university as a research output, which is difficult because it's a bit hard to claim research income that we are awarded as research income, or indeed the books we publish as an output. But yeah, most recently, we published... Not everything that we publish has the quality of embodied writing, as much as I admire it. But our most recent book is called "Homework" written by one of Verónica's colleagues, Astrid Lorange at UNSW and her partner, Andrew Brooks. And yeah, it, for us, was perhaps the most embodied form of writing where the two of them write as a couple, to each other, to their child and in a very located place. Yeah, drawing heavily, as Verónica's just said on the disciplines of queer theory and feminist history and theory where, as you said, it's never been an issue. It's just a natural mode of writing. Yes.

Verónica Tello:

Yeah. I would say that... Discipline has also published those really excellent books on Elizabeth Newman and the others escape my memory right now, but it is generating a parallel historical discourse, whether or not it's authorised.

Helen Hughes:

Thank you. Unauthorised art history.

Verónica Tello:

The best.

Helen Hughes:

The very best. Well, we might have time for one more question. And I feel like one thing that we haven't covered yet is the very central topic and preoccupation of the book, which is the question of digital repatriation, Khadija, which you've worked on in other books, including the book you did with Julie Gough. It was extraordinary to me to read in the book, all the different propositions that the museum in Vienna was coming up with to avoid giving back this object to the original owners in Mexico. The most spectacular of which is proposing that they create a hologram that they would give back to Mexico. But that besides, you do chart a very interesting critique of this new, or maybe it's not new, but idea of digital repatriation. And I wondered if you want to, perhaps as the last closing kind of comments, say a bit more about that.

Khadija von Zinnenburg Carroll:

Sure. Yeah. I've been thinking through this idea of new originals and the ways in which what we are doing as contemporary artists, intervening in museums, which is what we were doing in the Julie Gough project already, and in a lot of the work that I've been part of, whether as a mediator, curator, artist, filmmaker, in various roles. But in this new role, it's really about facilitating a comparative project. And this was also to come to that definition you wanted of what is global art history. And that is more of a comparative transnational history, written very much from the stakeholder community perspectives and from researchers within those artistic researchers and to see what then can be built as a discussion between those sites and the then emptied museums in Europe, as they do begin to return physical objects.

But also so digital repatriation in a sense, definitely not instead of returning the material and often very sacred and unique original, but as a way of perhaps then thinking through that empty space, that's left in those museums, thinking through the way in which relationships are built and that are often very much desired with those large institutions, like the Musée de quai Branly, The British Museum, The Humboldt Forum in Berlin, and actually binding those institutions into a relationship with responsibility in which they then also support the new museums that are being built around Africa, for example. So that's the ways in which the digital has entered this current work that I'm doing. But I know Verónica actually had some thoughts. Maybe there's also a space for you to say something at the end, if you like.

Verónica Tello:

Oh, on that topic. I mean, I would just say that I agree with what you're saying and yeah, in the context that I work in across Australia and Chile and Chilean art history, that yeah, that discourse around digital repatriation manifested in similar ways in which it's manifested regarding The Contested Crown or El Penacho, like arguments being made around Chile not having the proper infrastructure to maintain and hold artworks that were developed, for example, during the British dictatorship, which may or may not be true and digital. Yeah, I think digital repatriation is not the preferable outcome. It's just, yeah, reiterating economic inequality and geopolitical norms that definitely need to be undone. So not sure if the story... I can't remember the artist's name, but the story in the museum is the preferred outcome in that particular context, but I do love that work.

Khadija von Zinnenburg Carroll:

Yeah. I think we should stop probably.

Helen Hughes:

I totally agree. And I think we'll have to continue the conversation offline. But yes, on behalf of Monash, thank you so much Khadija and Verónica. It was really great to chat with you both. And I was going to note Khadija, is the book available online for free as a PDF?

Khadija von Zinnenburg Carroll:

Yeah.

Helen Hughes:

Is this true?

Khadija von Zinnenburg Carroll:

Yes.

Helen Hughes:

Okay. So everybody can access it online?

Khadija von Zinnenburg Carroll:

On the publisher's website, there's a link to an open access version.

Helen Hughes:

Yeah. I definitely encourage everyone to read it.

Verónica Tello:

Yes.

Helen Hughes:

So, thanks again. See you all soon.