Where is uts kuring gai campus
An afternoon of activities will be held at UTS Kuring-gai tomorrow to help alumni, current and former staff, friends and the community say goodbye. To join the conversation, please log in. Don't have an account? Join the conversation, you are commenting as Logout. The events of the last two years have impacted every aspect of our daily lives. Now, thanks to stunning aerial photography and on-the-ground reporting we can reveal just how Covid has changed us.
Staff impacted by the relocation can find more information on Staff Connect. Health and education courses currently based at Kuring-gai will also move to the City campus, along with around students from Students relocating from Kuring-gai can find out more here. With the majority of relocating staff from FOH and FASS set to be based in Building 10, refurbishment work has hit top gear and internal relocations have begun.
Level 3 : FOH offices are complete and occupied as of early September Painting, carpeting and joinery in the HDR spaces are due to be completed in the first half of September.
Level 4 : Painting, floor finishes and glazing are in progress throughout the FASS work spaces, performing arts studios, labs and lounges, and ceilings are being installed in the atrium area. The old UTS bus stop and timetable is still there, with more cobwebs. The campus has become a peculiar site now that it is devoid of students; it generates a poignant air of both real and imagined nostalgia. The buildings radiate an unknown, unseen history. As I wander about the lonely roads, looking at the empty bike racks and noiseless classrooms, I feel melancholy on behalf of students who actually built experiences there.
In the desolate hallways I can see the imagined shadows of past lives. Doors to the buildings are locked, covered with security signs, so I peer in through the windows.
The vibrant green carpets and pink handrails are still there, as are all the street signs on the road pointing out the various campus buildings. There are no sports teams playing on the oval, which is wide and still dazzlingly green, with only a magpie making use of the space. A banner appears on the outside of the sports centre, advertising for the next boot camp, which will never happen.
The iconic green carpet and pink handrails remain. The campus looks as though it was left in haste. The brilliant sunshine seems mismatched with the motionlessness of the campus and the spiderwebs that have crept up in various crevices outside old classrooms. Through one dark window, behind a partly-pulled red curtain, I can just see what looks to be an old office, upon which old papers and a telephone sit discarded.
Without students and staff, the buildings and the campus at large provoke a curious feeling, not quite of pointlessness, but of restlessness. The entire place exists outside time, and acts as a kind of time travel to the past within the present. Eventually I head back out of the campus, which, as of August , is still open for urban and suburban explorers and Kuring-gai alumni feeling the pinch of nostalgia.
One can only speculate that its new inhabitants will form equally compelling and fond memories. Until then, the deserted campus looks almost post-apocalyptic, caught between the strands of the past and the future.
Filed under Uncategorized. My mother was lecturer there for nearly 20 years until her office was moved to Ultimo. Some of my most fond childhood memories are of coming to work with her during the school holidays. I would spend hours exploring that labyrinthine complex, reading in the library or walking in the bushland.
Your article bought a tear to my eye. Thank you.
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