Our archives department is a not-so high-security time machine tardis disguised as a room full of shelves, our hard drives and servers buzzing like mosquitoes and our people know exactly how heavy a memory can be — Uluru?!

Walk inside and you can feel it straight away. The air is thick with petrichor and distant voices. Not metaphorically. Literally. Safe and dry inside. Elders past and present live captured inside our machines. Meanwhile the rain comes down hard, wet, fast and sweet like a yurrampi. What a contrast.

Our analogue materials become digitised and new life is birthed from fragile magnetic ghosts that refuse to remain mortal. We hope immortal.

Our archives team are legit deadly cultural surgeons.

Cleaning. Capturing. Digitising. Naming. Labelling. Backing up.
Backing up the backup’s back up.

Because every second of recorded culture matters.

It’s quiet work.

Which is exactly why it’s so heroic.

No applause. No premiere nights. No flashing lights - Kanye!

Our crew hold the line between past, present and future, so that kids not yet born can one day press play and hear their old people speak in language, see their faces, learn their skin names, know where they come from and their jukurrpa.

Our archives team are an army of quiet legends fortressing the spirit of our land and protecting our stories one artifact at a time.