Anzac Day in the time of Corona

Ada Place, Pyrmont on Saturday, 25 April 2020

Today is Anzac Day, no marches. In some suburbs people held the dawn service in front of their houses, each on their own front lawn or porch, even playing “The Last Post”. Some lit a candle at their open window. All this I learned from Facebook, Instagram and TV news as nothing happened in my neighbourhood. But then again I wasn’t up yet to see it.

Ada Place is a narrow lane off Pyrmont Bridge Road, overshadowed by high apartment buildings on each side. They were probably built when Pyrmont was being redeveloped in the late 1990s.

Judging from old photos I’ve seen about Sydney, I imagine Ada Place would have looked quite grim in previous times. Maybe there were workers’ cottages or warehouses on this street when Pyrmont was an operating dock area. It still looks grim - in a bland, new way. But somehow it retains that harbourside ambience, especially at the end towards Pyrmont Bridge Road where I can see old buildings in the sunshine on the other side.

Pyrmont Bridge is normally a busy road. It leads to several thoroughfares and the Anzac Bridge. Today there is hardly any traffic. There is a silence, like a hush in the air.

Back in Ada Place, an older and a younger man are carrying furniture out from a flat into the street. A chair and a cupboard are already there. A dog is whimpering after them. “Come inside, Winston”, I hear a woman’s voice calling. The flats facing this lane on the lower floors are very dark. I get glimpses of the interior here and there. A politician recently complained about people treating the beach as their back garden, meaning they want to stay and not leave immediately after a swim. (Most beaches, except Bondi, just opened again last week, just for a swim). This politician may have a back garden and more, but the people in Ada Place don’t, not even a ray of sunshine.

I wait for you here

Alice Street and Alice Ave, Newtown on Friday, 24 April 2020

At the corner of Alice Street and Edgeware Road is “The Wolf and Honeybee” café. It still has the old writing in blue on white from its former life, ‘Milk Bar Fruit & Veg”. The colour at the last bit of the g has disappeared. The café is closed.

I feel I see more people in sports gear than ever before. Australia - since I know it - has always been remarkable for people wearing jogging pants, gym tights, tiny training shorts and singlets in urban streets. Now it seems to have become the general street gear.

A short walk from the street corner is Alice Avenue. There is a small truck with a big tin barrel, flat at the bottom, a door at the back, and a window at the front. A bit like a gypsy caravan. Both walls on each side of this little street have paintings, one is graffiti, the other a circus scene with skilful patches of graffiti in between. It’s unclear if they belong to the painting or have been inserted afterwards.

I vaguely remember from my early days in Sydney to have visited a factory or warehouse in Newtown, which was converted into artists’ studios. A friend had a studio there in the early 2000s. I have a dim memory that they were in Alice Street at the King Street end. I even think to recognise the spot. Only it is now a huge apartment block with the name ‘Industri’. That would make sense, meaning that they pulled the old premises down to build this one.

Now that I have become quite familiar with Sydney, the places visited in the first months or even years appear in my memory like dreamscapes without being able to locate them properly.

When I look for former factories in Alice Street on the internet, I find ‘The Automatic Totalisators Ltd.’ They produced ticket issuing machines, mainly for race courses. There is a group photo of the workers with the buildings behind from 1921. I am sure for a moment that I’ve found my factory, but then I see the address and an aerial map from 1949 of the complex. It was at the other end of the street and had gone a long time before I came to Sydney.

Alice Street and Alice Lane on Sunday, 26 April 2020

Two days later, I am back in Alice Street. My friend has told me in the meantime that her studio was somewhere else. But I am still obsessed with that factory. So I’ve continued to search and found a record with a photo of the PMU Food Products Ltd, established around 1934. (PMU stands for ‘Pick Me Up’). It looks familiar to me.

I also found a record of the Bradford Cotton Mills, applying to the Newtown Council for the construction of a factory in Alice Street in 1933 which was approved.

I wish I could ask the residents of the older houses in the neighbourhood what was there before the new apartments. But in these times of anxiety and distancing, it seems weird to stop strangers in the street and even more so to ring doorbells.

I move on to Alice Lane. Here a back gate is painted and decorated as if it is the stage of a circus with a red curtain and decorated pillars. Apparently belonging to the same property, a whacky house with an asymmetric design and bright primary colours is looking over the wall.

On another wall, I read 'Aqui Te Espero', ‘I wait for you here’. It makes me feel sad. Everything takes on another meaning during this Pandemic. I read later that it is an official mural by the street artist Nadia Hernandez. It hasn’t been created for this situation.

A bit further along, where Alice Lane turns right, a flat cardboard cat is propped up on a fence. Two Chinese workers are having a smoko break at the backside of a shop. It must be an 'essential' business, or they’re just cleaning up.

The lane continues, crossing another street. The chimneys at Sydney Park are visible in the distance. The quietness around me is not one of the 21st Century on a sunny Sunday in a busy neighbourhood. I feel to have stepped out of time, not quite into the past but somewhere ‘sideways’.

Mural by Hugues Sineux

Aqui Te Espero by Nadia Hernandez

The resurrected teddy bear

Juliett Street, Enmore on Tuesday, 21 April 2020

Juliett Street is fairly long. At one end it’s a cul-de-sac with a little green spot and trees. Beyond is the Marrickville Metro Shopping Centre.

The street is residential, apart from the corner café “West Juliett” which is open for takeaway only. The houses are mainly ‘Federation’ architecture which is, as I learnt in the meantime, what the British Edwardian style is called in Australia.

I meet a couple of cats, one settling for a snooze under a car, the other sitting on her own front porch and looking pretty. There is a truck with a flatbed made of wooden planks and on it sits a rusted metal toolbox. The number plate says ‘Historic Vehicle’.

Someone in a nearby house is getting a contactless delivery. Someone else is moving into a pretty Federation house a little further along. Such activities are still possible. The houses in this street are well cared for but there is one in ruins, only part of the back and side walls still standing. The front garden is overgrown and littered with plastic bags and household debris.

I wonder if such things happen when there is an inheritance dispute. In another place, three guys in working gear are hanging out in the front yard together, smoking. 

Opposite there is a house with a big white cross, white artificial flower garlands and teddy bears on the porch. It gives me the awful feeling that a child has died in the family. Then I see Easter eggs woven in between the ribbons on the fence and the tree in the street is decorated with pink, red and yellow garlands and red globes. So it may have been just for Easter, which wasn’t so long ago. But why the teddy bear? 

The girl with the unicorn mask

Clara Street, Ada Street and Lane, Ethel Street, Erskineville on Sunday, 19 April 2020

This is a tangle of narrow streets all weaving into each other. That’s what it feels like when I walk here. But looking at the map, they form almost a square with Clara Street dividing it in the middle. Mostly small terraces, a couple of warehouse-style buildings and one grey-painted block of flats, which was obviously a factory as the chimney is still there. Maybe the cottages were originally created for the workers of that factory.

First, I walk along Clara Street and discover the Tom Bass Sculpture Studio School. I researched it a couple of years ago to do some clay sculpting courses. But never made it to even look at the place. Tom Bass was a friend of the still-life painters Fred Jessup and Margaret Olley.

From there I turn left into Ada Lane, and after following it around, I suddenly am in Ethel Street. There is a playground in the middle, cordoned off because of 'virus contamination danger'. On one side is a multi-coloured bench, free to use, and a crucified teddy bear nailed to a tree. Ada Lane has two parts, continuing beyond the playground.

Further along, I see small children playing. They may be about 7 or 8 years old, three boys and one girl. She has a unicorn hood on her head. They are really engaged in their play. When I come closer, I stop to photograph an interesting corner house. I am a bit wary not to disturb the kids, but they don’t even seem to see me. By now their magic play has gone into a more realistic realm as I hear the girl saying: “No, you can’t have that chair because my dad found it.”

This area creates the idea in me that the people who live here all know each other and that they are somehow environmentally aware, alternative and friendly with their neighbours.

A silent conversation

Sophia Street and Lane, Surry Hills on Saturday, 18 April 2020

This street runs parallel to Foveaux Street. It is long and narrow, going downhill towards the CBD. The upper bit is mainly residential with some terrace houses and small workshops. When I park the car two very young women leave one of the houses, chatting and laughing as if there is no concern in the world. Next door a small poodle is barking and sticking its head through a gap in the fence.

On the other side of the street is an empty lot, asphalted in the middle and weeds growing around it, enclosed by a rusty wire fence. Such places are odd these days when every patch of land is allocated for property development.

Sophia Lane forms a crescent off Sophia Street. One entry into this lane is pleasant. The corner house has a mural painting with a kookaburra and gum trees, almost repeating the gum tree in the street. But the other end looks dark and dingy, the type where you would dump a dead body in the movies. Even in bright daylight, I feel apprehensive walking into it. Absurdly, in the most unpleasant part of this dark lane, the Council deemed it necessary to paint a patch of grey over the wall to cover some pink tagging, thus ruining the original brick. As I have observed before with other patched-up graffiti, they’ve left a bit of it sticking out. Maybe this is because the ones doing these types of painting jobs used to be the people “working for the dole”. It could be a kind of civil sabotage.

Crossing Waterloo Street into the next part is like being transported back into the past, reinforced by the present situation that hardly anybody is around, hardly any cars. The street consists almost entirely of the backside of warehouses and factories. The midday sun brightens the street. I walk by myself, there is nobody else. Maybe it’s not like in the past but our new future? Two dumped chairs are facing each other in a silent conversation. There are several dead rats. The sight makes me think of the plague in Sydney about a hundred years ago. Do you get a disease from going past a dead rat covered with blowflies? I try not to look at them.

Against the wall

Later, when I study my photos more closely, I discover that Sophia Street is the one I photographed in 2001 for my work Windows at Night. I called it ‘Chirico’s Lane’ as it reminded me of Giorgio de Chirico’s Piazza d’Italia paintings. Recently, I thought about this photo and realised that I didn’t know where I had taken it. And here I am. Another random discovery. 

Sophia near Terry Street, April 2020

Sophia Street aka Chirico’s Lane, from ‘Windows at Night’, 2001

Easter Sunday in the time of Corona

Victoria Street, Redfern on Sunday, 12 April 2020

It’s a tiny street. I couldn’t find it at first, though it’s in an area I always drive past to get to Cleveland Street. There is also a small shopping centre and my car mechanic in this part of Redfern. A yellow corner building used to be an ice cream shop and is now empty. A bit shabby, with faded paint and crumbling mortar. It’s still somehow picturesque. A transparent door on the top seems to lead into the light. Otherwise, there are just back doors and garage doors. Music sounds from an open garage that contains a motorbike.

Esther and Violet Street, Surry Hills

There is a small net of alleys behind the warehouse that used to be the gallery of the legendary Ray Hughes. He died in 2017. According to the Sydney Morning Herald, he bought the building in 1987, “when the suburb was more seedy than trendy.” One of these small streets within this net is Raper Street, where Brett Whiteley’s former studio and living space was in another warehouse. His studio has been preserved as a museum.

Esther and Violet are blending into each other, formerly consisting of warehouses or small factories, now converted into residential and office spaces.

Esther Lane is flanked by a yellow-painted house. It creates a stunning glow in the afternoon light. The windows of the opposite building throw an interesting reflection onto the yellow wall. By coincidence, I photographed that street before, late last year, because I was attracted to this light.

Esther Lane in December 2019

To get to Esther and Violet Street I have to turn into Devonshire Street. I drive past a queue of people outside a corner shop. At present, only one or two people are allowed to be in small spaces. But there are still more people waiting outside than usual. I wonder what the attraction is and then see it’s the Bourke Street Bakery. My friend Elke mentioned it just yesterday. Surprisingly, I hadn’t known that bakery, even though I am a baker’s daughter and call myself an urban explorer. 

The very end of Devonshire just before South Dowling opens up like a brand new territory. The new tramline has created open spaces in the city. At this end, there used to be a small park with a playground. Now there is a long strip of lawn. This Easter Sunday is a bright, sunny day and the grass sparkles in the sunlight.

People are lying or sitting on the grass. Only two or three together at the most and far apart from each group, sticking to the new rules. Children from the row of dwellings bordering the lawn are playing and riding their scooters on the surrounding pavement. 

At the end of the lawn, a multi-coloured older building stands alone which declares itself as the “Surry Hills Art District”, the words written on one wall in between comic book style painted figures playing musical instruments. Two women, one in a canary yellow dress, are taking photos. The yellow one is the model. The building had been there before and it was not visible from this end as far as I remember. They must have pulled down a whole row of houses to create space for the tramline. The former Wimbo Park now seems to have shrunk to a fenced-in piece of land with no gate. It has a few young trees randomly dispersed amid otherwise barren, wood chip covered soil as if they are the sole survivors of an attempted and abandoned gardening project.

One lonely balloon

Elizabeth Lane, Redfern on Saturday, 11 April 2020

It’s Easter Saturday. Restrictions are reinforced over this long weekend. No travel too far from your own suburb. Not sure what too far is, but definitely nowhere outside of Sydney. They have roadblocks. You are only allowed to go out shopping, exercise, and whatever else the ‘absolutely necessary’ activities may be. Yesterday afternoon I drove to Pyrmont with Dimitri to walk at the waterfront. I imagined there would be random checks at the side of the road to ask where we were going. There were none. Even though I was behind a police car at a traffic light which then stopped at the side of the road around the corner as they do when they want to wave you down. But nothing happened. Otherwise I haven’t seen any police patrolling these inner suburbs. 

Apart from a few exceptions, I was so far going through the letter M. Out of necessity in these times, I have changed my system a bit and now try to find any street with a female name in my neighbourhood as it would be unwise to travel to a faraway suburb to take photos.

Today I went to ‘Breadfern’, the local organic bakery, to buy hot cross buns and a loaf of bread. Elizabeth Lane is nearby. It’s only a small stretch at the backside of Elizabeth Street, bordered by Redfern Lane and James Street. 

It’s a sparkling, sunny day, it almost feels happy. When I turn around the corner from Redfern Lane, I hear music coming from an open garage door. It sounds familiar. I know the song well from listening to ‘Triple J’ some years ago. They played it often, so I am able to decipher the words “I’ve got a strange disease”. How appropriate. I couldn’t remember who it was by. When I looked it up later, I realised that I never took notice of the name. It was a Canadian pop music duo named Prozzäk. 

Inside the small courtyard from where the music comes, I see a young couple. He is doing sit-ups. Otherwise, there is nobody in this lane. The wind plays with a yellow balloon on the ground, blowing it back and forth. 

At the other end of Elizabeth Lane is the backside of the warehouse where Damien Minton lives and where he occasionally holds his Sunday arvo art salons. He just recently posted on Instagram of his little adventures in the back lane, observed in isolation from his window. The old, broken piano, he had posted a photo of, is still there. I think he made the comment that art is a victim of the Coronavirus. There is more music coming from inside another place. 

Do not push the button

Mary Ann Street, Ultimo on Thursday, 9 April 2020

I am constantly thinking about where to be outside and to go for a walk without causing any trouble or getting into trouble. Centennial Park was still open the last time I looked and ok on weekdays, but on the weekend there are too many people. I thought to check out Pyrmont and the waterfront at the end of Harris Street. I stopped in Mary Ann Street on the way. It runs from Wattle to Harris Street and then has another cul-de-sac end at the top. As a pedestrian, you can walk on from that point up some stairs or along a little passageway at the side. This street has some UTS buildings and the old Sydney Technical College which is now TAFE. There is a row of small sandstone terraces with a history plaque mentioning the surgeon John Harris to whom this land had been granted by the ‘Crown’. Two stonemasons built the terraces in 1869 to use as their family homes and rental housing. Another terrace has a small Chinese dumpling restaurant which is open for takeaway. The ‘Fork and Grind Café’ is closed and cordoned off. There is a small park with rose bushes. Two little girls are playing in the grass.

The street is empty, except for some young people with face masks, carrying shopping bags. In front of one of the UTS buildings is a black couch, either dumped or put there for smokers. A man is sitting on it working with his tablet and phone as if it were his office. But mainly the street in this busy part of the city is very empty and deserted. While walking along all by myself, I happen to come upon the Frank Gehry ‘squashed brown paper bag’ building which I could never find before. This is truly a ‘random discovery’.

At the traffic lights is a cardboard device over the push button, advising not to touch it. The lights will change by themselves.

Dr Chau Chak Wing Building, UTS, Sydney, designed by Frank Gehry

Love is the answer

Mary Street, Newtown on Friday, 3 April 2020

I have to go to the bank to get my credit card. I was thinking of just leaving it, although banks are an essential service, and I need the card. The bank is at the corner of Mary and King Street, so I take the opportunity to look around. At the end near Lennox Street, dogs are barking ferociously inside a building with a mural painting. Two men with red safety tops are walking in and out.

The street is a bit shabby. Apart from the house with the mural, most buildings in the street look neglected and covered with tagging.

An old mattress and shoes are dumped in the driveway to an undercover parking lot. The only other neat place is the temporarily closed Kelly’s Lounge. There are beer kegs outside the door, waiting for nothing.

The next building has a tag saying “God hates us all”. Some posters inform people that a virus doesn’t target race. This is because Asian people have been attacked and vilified in public. There are too many dumb people who think the Chinese are personally responsible for the virus break-out. Words of encouragement are painted high up on a corner building glowing in the sunshine: “Love is the answer”.

Time Capsule 2003

Amelia Street, Waterloo on Monday, 30 March 2020

Yellow Night in Amelia Street from the series Night Cruise, 2003

Amelia Street in 2003

This is one of the streets I went to in 2003 when I first had the idea to record streets with female names. I didn’t continue then. Recently, I found some of the photos I took at the time. One of them was from my project Night Cruise.

Amelia Street is in the middle of the new apartment complex in Waterloo where an enormous factory ground used to be, spanning several blocks. When I came to Sydney in 1997 it was deserted, still remaining like this for years. In 2003 there was the first apartment block on Lachlan Street at the end of Amelia. It must have been just about to be finished. A banner on the building fence read “Now Leasing”. Apart from this, the skyline was empty.

At the dead end of this short street was a scrap metal yard. In its place and beyond, is now the vast complex of a residential area with new streets and shops. The former office building, 24 Amelia Street, is still standing.

Three dingy little terraces are lingering on. Maybe abandoned by now. There are a lot of discarded household goods on the porches. A small lot next to them is empty, protected by a wooden fence with barbed wire on the top. At the corner is a luxury car dealer named ‘Prestige Connex’, which has been there for 28 years. Opposite were small white factory buildings and a take-away shop in 2003. Now apartment buildings have replaced them.

I observe all this from the car. It just doesn’t feel right anymore to loiter in the streets and take photos.

Metal Merchant in 2003

End of Amelia Street in 2020

2020

Ann Street, Surry Hills

2003

After that, I drive to Ann Street. This is the other one from which I’ve found a photo from 2003. It’s divided by Riley Street, leaving only a short dead-end bit at the highest end. The other longer part winds steeply downhill to Commonwealth Street. This is the neighbourhood of Ruth Park’s novel The Harp of the South. 

I have to come back here sometime in the future because today I am not getting out of the car. I park at the upper end from where I can see the crossing to Riley Street. It is 5 pm, business traffic hour, but there are almost no cars. Eery and silent. I recognise the corner where I took the photo in 2003 by the yellow railing along the footpath. It’s still yellow. The side of the building, a small terrace, is now painted a dark grey. Then it was a lighter colour and had the street sign screwed to the wall. In 2003 a few things were happening on that wall. There was a patch of white which presumably was supposed to cover some tagging. But maybe they forgot their ladder and couldn’t get high enough, as some red tagging still sneaked out at the top of that white patch. The council used to cover tags and graffiti with whatever colour. It never matched the walls. The white rectangle in Ann Street proved to be a suitable background for some more stencils, tags and writings.

I don’t think I can do this project any longer, as we are not supposed to leave our homes except for clearly defined purposes. Roaming streets, even by car, may not be part of this.

Maybe I can still do my own suburb Redfern on the way to the grocery and chemist shops?

Three more Myrtles

Myrtle Street, Leichhardt on Thursday, 19 March 2020

I came to Leichhardt to install my work for the spontaneous group exhibition The Few and Far Between at Articulate project space because the scheduled artist had pulled out. It turned out to be the last show at Articulate before the lockdown. Myrtle is a residential street with a mix of architecture: new houses with balconies and plaster lion statues, weatherboard cottages, and small apartment blocks. A schoolboy is coming home to one of the new houses, greeted by his dog from the upper balcony. The boy looks at me curiously when I try to photograph the lion statues next door. Rosemary grows in almost every front yard. It’s the Italian quarter. One small grey building has the sign Shellonite written on its front, a small factory converted into a residential place. Almost stereotypical, a Vespa is parked outside. I wondered what Shellonite was and found a mention on the site ‘Alphabet City Press’ from 8 years ago. It was registered as a trademark in Australia in 1930 and manufactured artificial amber, horn and resin products. Now in August, while going over my notes for posting, I have a look at the internet again. There is a new entry: The building has come on the market for sale for the first time after 23 years, just a few weeks after I had visited the street.

At one end of Myrtle Street is a white house that could have been a corner shop once. It has a big red “Stop Adani” sign above the grill door. An invisible dog barks at me from inside the dark room.

Myrtle Street and Lane, Chippendale on Tuesday, 24 March 2020

I went to this street on a grey day in these uncertain times of the Corona Virus. The world has come to a halt: We are told to stay home. I try to find out if we can still walk in the streets. They say that we are allowed to go outside for walks and exercises. Alone or with our household members. Last night on television, the question was posed: Why are people still walking their dogs? This seems to be a ridiculous question. But is roaming other neighbourhoods included? It starts to feel socially unacceptable, like smoking. I think Chippendale is part of my own neighbourhood, so I go for a drive. I first thought not to get out of the car, but I did. 

I know the part of Myrtle near Abercrombie Street quite well. At the corner is a pub named The Chippo, which used to be called The Abercrombie. A group of people I knew at the time were frequenting this pub. Jay, a singer-songwriter friend, was living at some stage next door in a converted warehouse on the top floor.

I walk along the street, ever so conscious about avoiding other people. I come past a few more converted warehouses and some terrace houses. A convenience store is shuttered and displays a handwritten sign: “Sorry about the inconvenience”. At one point, a playground divides the street. One or two children with a parent, a man with his dog, and a girl on a bench. Communal garden projects are advertised on a banner. 

Myrtle Street, Botany on Thursday, 26 March 2020

I am half reassured that we can go outdoors if we avoid other people. I went for a drive. I need to get out of the flat every now and then. I thought to find out what the Botany version of Myrtle looks like.

It is bordered on one side entirely by the Botany Bay Swimming Pool. I didn’t even know it existed. It looks like a nice ground, with lots of trees for shade on a hot day. Of course, it is closed today. On the other side is a row of similar looking, but not uniform newer apartment buildings. Square white blocks, pretty design, lots of plants and trees. Some have louvres, like South European window shutters.

The street ends as a cul-de-sac. A group of small children are playing together. They seem to be too close to each other. Apart from them, the street is almost deserted. The only people around are traders, going about their jobs. At an empty car park is a ‘No Exit’ sign. Don’t go out, stay home. Things start to take on new meanings.

Light my heart

Margaret Street and Lane, Newtown on Monday, 16 March 2020

I came here in a dampened mood, as on a Monday everything is worse about the Corona crisis than the week before. It’s now declared to be a pandemic. The day is grey and rainy. Margaret Street in Newtown is hidden in between a labyrinth of small streets, one-ways, dead-ends. It has some wall paintings and the most peculiar-looking apartment building, brick, maybe 50s with a gabled roof. Very narrow, wedged between a fence and an older house.

The street curves and where it does three bikes are parked side by side, a big one, a middle-sized and a tiny children’s bike. Reminds me of the three Bears from ‘Goldilocks’.

It is quiet. There aren’t many cars driving through, maybe because they don’t find it, as happened to me first. But some people are emerging from somewhere to go somewhere. A man is rummaging in the rubbish bins of the peculiar apartment block for glass bottles. The houses here have their own character: creative, environmentalist, neat, neglected or entirely absent.

Margaret Lane shows the backside of such places. There’s rubbish including chairs. Discarded chairs seem to become an accidental theme in these discoveries. 

Not quite "The Truman Show"

Myrtle Street, Marrickville on Sunday, 8 March 2020

This street has a row of residential houses on one side and small factory buildings on the other. Many family homes here are neatly renovated, especially the one at the corner coming from Victoria Road. In the sunlight breaking through clouds, it reminds me of the movie “The Truman Show”. Almost too perfect to be true.

I guess the neat houses belong to Europeans, maybe Portuguese or Greek. An old man is pottering around in front of his house, picking up some stray twigs. In the middle of the street is a stormwater canal, coming out from under the footpath on both sides. It has a sign that warns of sewage overflow. There are symbols to tell us: do not swim, do not sit here with a fishing line, and do not let a dog go here. I don’t think anyone would be tempted. A stale smell is wafting from the trickle of water.

One of the factories is a yoghurt manufacturer. Next, a mysterious old house with a rusty corrugated iron roof hides behind a wall and trees.

At the other end of Myrtle Street, I look over to a patch of green hedges and shrubs, a factory chimney and an old, tall house, a bit grander than the ones nearby. That’s where the pedestrian railway crossing is. It looks from far like a remnant from a bygone era. Another sign tells me that the street is subject to flooding.

Writings on the wall

Maud Lane, Marrickville on Sunday, 8 March 2020

On my way to Maud Lane, I passed by Maude Street which isn't on any map. It runs alongside the Braddock Playground, with only grass and bushes and a sandstone arch leading into it. Someone is meditating under the arch.

The street turns around a corner and becomes Maud Lane. It runs along the railway track. The first view around the bend is a section with rubbish bins, a container with pallets piled on top, and a truck in front of a low white building. Squashed cardboard boxes, a battered suitcase and an abandoned shopping trolley are sitting right under a bent sign that tells everyone not to dump rubbish there. Is this ignorance, vandalism or civil disobedience?

The lane has workshops, garages and warehouses on both sides. Number 25 insists that the lane’s name is Maude with an ‘e’, defying the street directories’ spelling. It is empty and silent. Good to come on a Sunday.

Funny how I get excited by the sight of a rather ugly street. The feeling comes from something unexplainable, a vague memory of industrial streets in my home town Hamburg. But also from the fact that this place, like so many in Marrickville, is yet untouched by new apartment block developments. A couple of people are working. One is behind half-closed roller doors, and the other is driving a forklift from one end of the lane to the other. Apart from them, I am all alone. After heavy rain, the sun has come out and it’s warm.

While editing the photos I enjoy looking at all the details on the walls. Not so much the big elaborate graffiti, but the small scribbles, messages, colours, and objects leaning against them. In one section a few pieces of broken timber are leaning against a black wall. They look like words from an ancient language, like runes. Now, in August, five months later, they look to me like the “writing on the wall”, an ominous warning.

A serious street in Surry Hills

Mary Street and Mary Lane, Surry Hills on Saturday, 7 March 2020

On the way home from East Sydney where I had my gallery tour this Saturday, I went to Mary Street. I had been in this street a bit in the past but never noticed the name. One part of Mary Street is flanked by the Centennial Plaza, an ugly, soulless office and shop complex. My first computer repair man had a shop there, so I often parked in this street. After that, it continues on past Albion and Reservoir Streets.

This narrow street is home to quite a lot of institutions. The Salvation Army Foster House, the Chinese Masonic Hall, the Australian Chinese Community Association, the NSW Teachers Federation building, a bookshop called Published Art, a few restaurants, a gym or two, and even a brewery.

I feel the street is overwhelmed by the seriousness of so many important places. It looks a bit down and depressed. 

The existence of a Chinese Masonic Hall intrigues me, so I try to find something about it. It is, like any aspect of Chinese history, multifaceted. It was built in 1911, the year when the Qing Dynasty in China came to an end and the Republic of China was formed a year later. It grew out of the Hung League, which was an ancient secret society. By the time of the foundation of the Chinese Masonic Hall, the Hung League was a strong supporter of the republican cause. Like other secret societies of China, it had been connected with crime in the 19th century, known as the Triads (their symbol is a triangle). The founding of the Masonic Hall was meant to end this association with crime and to gain respectability. 

In Mary Lane is an intoxicated young man stumbling around and trying to do something with doorways. I think to leave him in peace and don’t venture very far into it.

At least one place is offering some fun. Or maybe not when you look closer.

Art lives in small streets

Mary Place, Paddington on Friday, 21 Feb 2020

I went to visit some of the galleries for my Saturday gallery tour. One of them is in Mary Place, so I took the opportunity to explore this street. It’s narrow and divided into two parts. The gallery used to be called Mary Place Gallery, now the name is Defiance, a branch of the Newtown gallery of the same name. At the moment there is an exhibition upstairs with drawings by Kevin Connor. He is 88 years old and according to what I’ve read about him, he could be called a flâneur without necessarily using this term himself. He observes and draws the everyday activities of people in the city. One of the drawings was probably done at the Tropicana in Victoria Street which I mentioned in my last post.

Kevin Connor, drawing. Photo taken from exhibition at Deviance Gallery, Mary Place

Around 1958 the Barry Stern Gallery operated here in Mary Place. This was in the days when Paddington was grungy and a no-go zone for ‘respectable’ people. Today most parts of the street look affluent and well-kept. From the odd mix of buildings, you can still recognise the former working-class environment. One young, smart-casually dressed woman walks along, smoking a cigarette and talking on her phone. Another stands at the corner of a shop, also smoking a cigarette. Across is the other property Barry Stern had bought in the 1950s. He converted it into a gallery by joining three terrace houses. His name and founding date are imprinted on the pavement.

An unexpected history lesson

Victoria Street, Kings Cross and Darlinghurst on Thursday, 5 March 2020 

The photography class I am teaching at WEA was scheduled for the Kings Cross field excursion. We meet at the Victoria Street exit of Kings X station in spite of heavy rain. I suggest we could stay a while at the Tropicana Caffe and take photos through foggy windows with raindrops, like the American photographer Saul Leiter. Passing Kings Cross Hotel, there is an especially heavy downpour. We stop outside under an awning for shelter. While there, I try to get some specific colour fields into my photos. That was one of the assignments I gave the students: Follow a colour. We go on to the Tropicana in the Darlinghurst part of Victoria Street. This was the place where the international short film festival Tropfest started in 1993. By the time I had moved from Melbourne to Sydney in 1997 the festival had already spilled out into the street. Rows of chairs and a screen were put into Victoria Street next to the café. Later it moved to Centennial Park and then to Parramatta. The Tropicana Caffe dates back to the 1980s and was, some say it still is, a place where local artists were hanging out to chat with friends and develop creative ideas. Or sit by themselves and draw. I remember it from the late 1990s when it still had its original style. Later it was renovated and lost, in my view, some of its flair. Today the creatives present are the students of my photography class. But sadly, no foggy glass panes.

Later we arrive at the Kings Cross part of Victoria Street near Orwell Street. The rain hadn’t stopped all day. By 4 pm it's dark like on a winter’s day. The lit shop windows, the fading light, the yellowing leaves on the plane trees give the street a slightly European autumnal mood. A slim, young man stands in the middle of the street next to a rubbish bin. It looks "compromised", marked with black and yellow security tape. It accidentally matches the man’s runners. He is guiding the traffic around the bin. After a while, he abandons his mission and tells us some of the histories of the immediate environment.

Here are the Butler Stairs, built in 1869 to create access between the higher and wealthier Potts Point and the lower and poorer neighbourhood of Woolloomooloo. That’s where the servants and maids lived who worked for the rich people up on the ridge, climbing up the 103 steps possibly several times a day. I’m disappointed to learn that the stairs are not named after the servants, but after an Irish draper called James Butler. He was an alderman on the Sydney Council and instrumental in the building of the stairs.

Then our new tour guide tells us about Juanita Nielsen who had lived nearby at 202 Victoria Street. She was a journalist and activist in the 1970s, fighting against demolition, redevelopment plans, and the forceful eviction of residents in Kings Cross. She disappeared in 1975. This mystery has never been solved, but it is assumed that she was kidnapped and murdered.

Another local resident of Victoria Street was the Green Ban activist Mick Fowler who was fighting for the same cause as Juanita. He has a plaque in his memory at the side of the stairs.

Enmore and Stanmore

Marian Street and Marian Lane, Enmore on Monday, 24 February 2020

Late afternoon and sunny weather with a few fluffy clouds. Marian Lane features the back walls and garage doors of houses in Marian and Metropolitan Street. Lots of doves on the powerlines. Two schoolgirls are walking along slowly. Someone in the far distance is shaking out his carpet. The stop sign at an intersection is upside down. People leave things for others to take, a packet of clay, a printer wrapped in plastic with the sign ‘free to take’, a box with toy fruit and veggies that said something like ‘never used’ or ‘never opened’. 

Marian Street has shops and graffiti at the end towards Enmore Road and then starts to be quiet, tree-lined, and relaxed. Nice houses, all old, well kept, different styles. All the same trees, I think a type of bottle brush, not in flower at the moment, so not sure. I thought it would be great to live in this beautiful, green street and have all the shops, cafés, pubs, and the Enmore Theatre just around the corner. 

Myrtle Street and Lane, Stanmore on Monday, 2 March 2020

Late afternoon, the weather just changed from very hot to very windy and a lot cooler. There is a Catholic Primary school on one street corner, and another Catholic institution further along. ‘Sisters of Mercy’ with the invitation ‘all welcome’ or similar. There is a gallery on the first street corner I came to. Houses are old, in good condition, painted and decorated, nice gardens. A group of young people is waiting at the door of one of the houses. People come home with their children from school or daycare, and other people come home from work in their Mercedes and Audis, using the garage doors in Myrtle Lane West. They get out of their cars, still in office suits, to take in the rubbish bins. The lanes are a bit confusing. They don’t have street names displayed. The planes fly low, making huge screaming noises. A white fashionable dog walks purposefully along the footpath all by herself. A woman seems to be concerned, but it’s not her dog. She gives up.   

Graffiti in May Lane

May Street and May Lane, St Peters on Sunday, 23 Feb 2020

I often drive through May Street when I go to Marrickville, and I took photos in the area for other projects in the past. Tugi and Dianna have their framing workshop Graphic Art Mount in May Lane where at least half of Sydney’s artists get their exhibition framing done, including me. May Lane is known for its graffiti. Tugi made the best out of this fact and invited street artists a few years back to do graffiti on the walls officially, like a proper exhibition with opening nights. There is still graffiti everywhere.

Today the shop is closed because it’s Sunday. A fair amount of people pass through the lane. Some are doing a phone video with a young woman in yellow. Some walk their dog, and some come from St Peters train station. 

May Street has a large lawn with some trees, a small playground, and a football oval. There is another green strip named “May Street Playground”. It’s a tiny bit of grass with a couple of trees and two benches. Someone left a French novel, torn jeans, and a towel.

There are artists’ studios in a red brick building and still a lot of old workshops and traders. Sadly, at a closer look, many of them have a ‘For Lease’ sign displayed. At the Country and Town Hotel end of May Street, they are just finishing the WestConnex road works of this section. 

Olive…

…and Welcome

Update on 19 June: When I edited my photos from this day, I looked up some names of the graffiti writers. One of them is called ‘Land Writer(s)’ which is an Aboriginal street art duo, making art about indigenous concerns. Most entries I’ve found were from around 2016. There was a Sydney Morning Herald article featuring a piece they did in Brisbane about black death in custody.

Sketchy notes about streets named Mabel

Sunday, 2 February 2020

Today is the first day of my project Random Discoveries. The plan is to visit randomly chosen streets of Sydney and find out what they can tell me.

But how would I make my choices?

There is a worldwide community of urban investigators. Some drift aimlessly through the city. Others follow an algorithm to find places they otherwise wouldn’t go to.

I’m going to visit streets with female names in honour of the female street explorers past and present.

I start with the letter M.

Mabel Street, Hurstville

Hot Sunday, a sleepy street with old trees. Not many people around. Two kids are running into their house. A young man is driving into a carport. Two people are talking on the footpath, and someone is working in front of his garage. Otherwise quiet, and not many cars. But the ones coming through are fast and very impatient. 

Mabel Street, Kingsgrove

It’s a very deserted street, no old trees. Some houses might date back to the 1930s, while others are new. Some are just about to be finished. Almost nobody around. One property with tall white garden gnomes attracts my attention. There is a man working in his garage, drilling. He couldn’t have heard me over the noise. Nevertheless, after I have taken a photo, he comes to his fence and looks suspiciously around. I get into my car and leave.