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This chapter examines the limitations of the Western world view in Australia and its influence on the built environment. The dominant narrative of colonialism has disregarded alternative ways of being in the world, resulting in a lack of inclusivity for First Nations peoples. To address this issue, there is potential in embracing an alternative world view through design thinking and co-design to develop more culturally and environmentally suitable places through holistic ways of understanding the world to influence future design strategies for knowledge dissemination. This chapter’s contribution is in promoting an alternative perspective that can challenge the dominant world view and create more inclusive and culturally sensitive spaces that reflect the diversity of the community. This is particularly relevant in the current political climate, where there is a growing advocacy for change and a motivation to look to other cultural perspectives, such as those of First Nations peoples. It calls for a paradigm shift in how we think about and synthesise architecture in Australia. This chapter advocates for the acceptance and engagement with First Nations peoples’ world views, particularly in the fields of architecture, design and places that focus on cultural records.

Embedded in built environment discourse, this chapter examines the traditional knowledge and resilience of the Ngadjuri Nation Peoples through an Elder’s narrative of reconciliation as well as resistance in their subsisting colonial settlement. Removed from ‘Country’ in the 1840s, Ngadjuri Aboriginal community endured colonial industries of open-cut copper mining and large-scale pastoralism as irreparable destruction to their cultural landscapes. European processes in the resources sectors reshaped natural topographies, deconstructing Ngadjuri Songlines and Ancestral Dreaming stories. Burra’s colonial stone buildings of settlement, painstakingly cut and composed from materials of the surrounding ecological terrain, prompted new narratives from Ngadjuri as a way of alleviating scars. Broadly speaking, this chapter aims to show how cultural heritage of two communities is provocatively and conceptually unpacked through the vernacular buildings’ cross-cultural foundations. That is, an under-reported narrative was unwittingly bestowed on the colonial-built forms with hidden meanings that deserve further investigation. This chapter offers a counternarrative to colonial histories revealing Ngadjuri’s methods for reconnecting to Country and culture after generations of disempowerment. It explores how within the materiality of colonial structures, the Ngadjuri entwined their remediated storylines – revealing a data curation that had avoided popular discourse in the galleries, libraries, archives, and museums [GLAM] sector representation. This example implies there are bodies of knowledge in built cultural heritage hidden elsewhere on our Aboriginal Nations and the challenges it presents GLAM in their Indigenisation processes.

This chapter discusses the development of evidence-informed practice in Australian education. It highlights growing system-wide aspirations and support for Australian teachers, school leaders, and jurisdictions to be engaging productively with research and evidence. Our aim here is to step back from these developments and consider them in the context of: (1) the nature and distinctive characteristics of the Australian school system; (2) what is known (and not known) about Australian educators' use of research and evidence; and (3) recent insights into enablers and barriers to research use in Australian schools. We argue that the development of evidence-informed practice in Australia needs to take careful account of the complex history and fatalist nature of the wider school system. This will make it possible to identify and work with the productive places that exist within a system of this kind. It is also important to recognize that research use in schools is a topic that has been investigated surprisingly little in Australia relative to other countries internationally. Current policy aspirations around evidence-informed approaches therefore need to be matched by greater efforts to understand the dynamics of research engagement in Australian schools and school systems.

This chapter explores creative drawing mediums in research practice and education, through speculative drawing methods, and the use of temporal mediums such as film, animation, and augmented reality [AR] to move outside entrenched perspectives of communicating towards more inclusive storytelling narratives. Architectural representation mediums provide means of conveying rich layers of information, having evolved through cultural influences and technologies with their origins in Western world views. However, these methods of drawing are limited in how they convey multiple and diverse views or social understandings, ultimately delivering static representations. The student and staff approaches discussed in this chapter demonstrate approaches that recalibrate from a singular, designer-led perspective to one that is multivalent, considering and engaging other stakeholders in the negotiations and conversations of the spaces in our built environments. Through making architectural communication more accessible and inclusive of diverse audiences and voices, alternative world views can be both enabled and facilitated.

This chapter describes how governments and regulators could introduce selective de-regulation based on exempting corporations from existing practices when they amend their constitutions to provide superior outcomes for investors and other stakeholders. An example is presented on how a company efficiently raised new equity through constitutional changes that also allowed the regulator to exempt it from the compliance processes and costs of changing auditors. System science is used to argue that the introduction of self-enforcing co-regulation based on outcomes rather than practices could introduce competition for developing the most efficient and effective regulation by both companies and regulators.

Designing learning environments is increasingly about mediating between the interactions in real and virtual space of largely self-organising learning communities. Traditional ways of briefing designers are less and less proficient, as the demands made on space become less timetabled, more probabilistic. ‘learning landscapes’ ¹ are proposed in which clusters of activity can be seen to be taking place across a field, that activity can be browsed, audited and fully engaged with. Such organic flows of interest and concentration are hindered by traditional demarcated space models, and attempts to enable the flows through ‘flexible’ interlinking of rooms fail.

There is evidence ² that the organic interactions between learners grow exponentially when these learners are connected together as virtual communities in open, robust virtual platforms. But this works best when these interactions are grounded from time to time in real places. How can designers best provide spaces that support learning in real and virtual space? Should design teams be composed of people with skills in devising real and virtual space?

Increasingly the answer is ‘yes’, and this places strains on procurement processes. Built form can take a long time to deliver. So can virtual platforms take time to devise and make operable. Can these processes be aligned? The concepts for RMIT’s Design Hub, a physical design research platform, were developed through research conducted twelve years before the building was completed. Many of the gap years were taken up with establishing the financial basis for constructing the Hub. During this time the concepts were validated by testing with various potential user groups, and a further tranche of international investigations validated the level of innovation being sought. The process for RMIT’s Swanston Academic Building (SAB) was smoother and shorter, but it involved a year in which a ‘learning landscape’ concept was moulded through intensive work with user client focus groups.

Neither of these projects has a virtual doppelganger, though both have sophisticated and evolvable IT systems. The Hub embeds a process of curating research interaction and dissemination that is hampered by this fact. The mediated learning landscape of the SAB falls short of the originating concepts, – because space constraints did not allow for an undivided, flowing landscape. A well designed virtual counterpart could have provided what the insertion of walls has obscured. Should all future innovative learning and researching environments have a virtual counterpart from the outset?

There is an emerging trend for such paired environments in creative city thinking and in museums. Surely briefing and procuring real and virtual environments in tandem will enliven future space use in universities?