These photos were taken on a Saturday but the wharves appeared to be abandoned. The freighter is “The Goliath”, dwarfed by the silos, not a soul was on deck. There are a number of groups of silos on the waterfront which store grain. These out-of-scale monuments to the art of concrete building, store – concrete! The all-seeing eye graffiti added to the weird atmosphere of the domineering silos glimpsed through an old warehouse entrance. The neon “Open” sign was off. At some stage, human vitality created these structures which now seem like tombstones.
Photos: Hobart waterfront. Aurora Australis icebreaker
The harbourside Hobart is lovely at any time but I liked the reflection of the brilliant red ship on the limpid water. The docks are infected with yellow starfish, a serious pest which has found its way to Australia on the hulls of boats.
St Joseph’s Catholic Church, Hobart.
On Easter Saturday, the parish priest dressed in his white vestments, stood by a brazier welcoming his flock. We couldn’t give him our business, we’re not religious, but it was a charming moment for a visitor. We watched the parishoners do the twelve steps of the cross from our fifth floor room at the neighbouring Travelodge. Eventually, the candles went out and one single light remained.
One of my many photographs of doors. This is our own front door, somewhat battered by the violent horizontal gales which it withstands every winter. Only the top panels are original, the rest of the glass is modern but the lock still works after 101 years.
The coloured light reflects the poetic thought process, of phasing out and getting in the zone. Other parts of my brain, just get annoyed at marketing calls!
Toenail in the bathtub
dead buds on the roses
a half done canvass going half well
spat out a seed stuck between two chipped teeth
there is colour I see that now
through the drawn torn curtain.
that call might never come
I’ll dial myself
run to answer the phone
just as I hang up
without leaving a message.
This image reflects the beauty and usefulness of products made from plants. Rolling pins, teak salad bowls, a Huon pine lamp base on a Tasmanian made Coogan’s sideboard (early 20th c.). There is a humble handmade plastering tool which was used in the construction of my house (1915) and a landscape from a Melbourne op shop 1970s. (I can’t live without my secateurs and bananas!) Huon pine and teak are both endangered species and so I treasure these domestic pieces.
The following poem was written after a recent visit to the steam festival in Sheffield Tas. Farming, animals and forests, was integral to the lives of the people there. Forestry has all but disappeared but the community respect their heritage through preserving machinery from the steam era, including a small train.
At home when the past consumes the present
bitumen ends at the forest track
past giant stumps of trees
we will never see that size again
and yet that is how men lived and died
on the harvest of plants.
bad driver braked on the highway
to pick up a hitchhiker
hippy sells vinyl in Sargeant Pepper’s coat
the village welcomed the steam parade
under the dark purple mountain shifting sky.
This blog is inspired by the small town in northern Tasmania that I have called home for around three years. In June 2016 two rivers and the Tamar estuary converged to form a major flood event which caused considerable damage. Hence the name of my blog “Confluence” is inspired by the power of nature during that time.
I am a writer, painter, reader. I have written a diary for forty years and I recently started a poetry journal, just plucking ideas from the air every day if possible. Here is a sample:
I opened the chest we bought with the house
A working man’s tool box
lightly sanded and polished
the lid is King Billy or Huon, the rest unpretentious
filthy, I noticed the sparkle of metal in the dirt
a tarnished silver chain & polished it.
Took out the binoculars, clouds of white smoke in the fog
first fire of autumn sending up signals
that it’s time to stay indoors.
The first signs of autumn are here. Whilst northern Australia is being pelted with cyclone Debbie, Tasmania gently descends into winter, yellowing leaf by leaf.
Photo: Georgian Shop, Evandale, Tasmania.