The World is Yours

Elizabeth Street, Newtown on Sunday 17 May 2020

I have never been in that street before. It’s where City Road becomes King Street, just before Missenden Road. It’s only a short lane and leads to the backside of the King Street shops and restaurants. I find it fascinating to see the unpolished side of all these places, where the empty food boxes and milk crates are stored, a drum with cooking oil, a baby chair, and a makeshift shed. Some material hangs on a back gate to a yard that looks like a raincoat for a dead animal.

On the other side are the backyards of a row of terrace houses of yet another lane. At the end is a fenced-in part of Sydney University with student accommodation.

It is Sunday late afternoon. The sun just came out from the clouds to say good night, highlighting the graffiti message ‘The World Is Yours’. At a corner a car lurks like a living being, ready to pounce.

Restaurants are allowed to have guests, ten at a time, for the first time since the lockdown. When I walk past the windows in King Street I see some people sitting at tables which has become an unusual sight. Not all tables are used. That would be too crowded. Staff is wiping down the surfaces more carefully than ever, it seems.

Cheer

Pearl Street, Newtown on Wednesday, 13 May 2020

The factory worker’s house

Pearl Street is at the other end of the new ‘Industri’ apartment complex I mentioned in my writing about Alice Street, published on 23 October 2020 with the title I wait for you here.

I was sure that a factory would have been on that site and that the name ‘Industri’ was honouring this industrial past.

Opposite this complex is a stately home on a large property with tall trees. Very unusual for this area which has mainly small terrace houses. I imagine it belonged to the owner or director of the factory that once stood at the location of the new residential block. He was of a generation and work ethic who believed to have to be present at their own business or otherwise things wouldn’t function properly. I am making this up entirely. 

The factory owner’s house

I notice a variation of the peaky gable style terrace house in this street, where two entities share the same gable and have two entrances underneath, while most I have seen have a window underneath and the entrance at one side. A big fenced-in playground is closed. In a small passageway, a few young men are working on graffiti. At the end is Pearl Lane with a retro feel and look about it, enhanced by the intense light that breaks through dark clouds.

Back in Pearl Street is a large empty lot and on the exposed wall of a house at the end of it is the word CHEER in graffiti lettering. I consider briefly photographing some discarded items on the porch of a neglected small cottage, including a scarf wound around the fence post which matches the colour of the window frames. But give it up. A moment later a truck arrives and stops right there. Two delivery guys carry in a big packaged screen and something else. Someone seems to need better entertainment equipment for the lockdown, no matter how shabby all the rest looks. And I thought the house is deserted.  

All you need is love

Question marks

Clara Street, Newtown on Wednesday, 13 May 2020

There are new posters everywhere in Newtown and surrounding areas listing telephone numbers to ring for health advice, mental health and domestic violence. They are from the Newtown Green MP Jenny Leong. Next to those on the pole at the beginning of Clara Street is another lost cat notice. I think it’s about the same cat as from the poster in Eve Street. Clara Street has a few colourful murals and graffiti. On one end are big question marks painted on the wall. I interpret these as symbolic of our times, though they probably were there before.

At the end of the street, a slim, elegant cat tiptoes across the pavement. It has a collar with a bell that jingles at every step. I decide it must be female and wonder if she is the lost one, but she is already gone. After a moment, she reappears, racing, almost flying at high speed, chased by an ordinary-looking house and garden variety cat.

Clinging to a wooden fence, a tangle of strings, torn fabric, and dry branches of a vine remind me of the network of streets I am walking through on my discoveries. Nearby I read “Welcome home, Milly” on a garden gate. An odd pair of graffiti creatures look disapprovingly at a red piece of cloth dangling in a tree.

Somewhere in the City

Eve and Pearl Street, Erskineville on Monday, 11 May 2020

Somewhere in the City, 2003

Eve Street is part of the new apartment complex which once was Ashmore Industrial Estate. I know the name from my old map. I saw one side of this new complex from Victoria Street in Erskineville just recently. 

I don't remember the name of the street where I took photos of old industrial buildings in this area many years ago. The Ashmore estate looks as if it was much bigger, and it was probably securely fenced in. Further down from Eve Street is Pearl Street. It must be new, not listed in my old street directory. One building has an old photo of working-class women and children on their front porch enlarged and imprinted on a perforated metal fence and garage door. 

A row of the old terraces in Eve Street is still standing, looking a bit lost. A dilapidated timber house is leaning against the self-proclaimed luxury estate The Secret Garden. Nevertheless, the old house has a satellite dish on its roof. You have to know where your priorities lie. I watch a man taping a poster to a lamp post. It’s about a lost cat. I feel sad for him.

While preparing this blog for posting now in January 2021, I am still thinking about the photos I took in 2003 somewhere around this area. I finally dig them out and can decipher a company name on one of the factory walls. It's Brightwell Transport and they still exist in Coulson Street, just around the corner from Eve Street. One of the photos kickstarted my project Night Cruise. I named it Somewhere in the City. Interesting that these buildings are still there. The other photo was taken through my car windscreen and includes the opposite side of the street. It shows a long building with a row of windows, no doors on that side. Whatever it was, it’s now gone and replaced by apartment blocks. 

View from the railway bridge to 'Brightwell Transport’ in Coulson Street, January 2021

From the series ‘Night Cruise’, 2003

Harley Quinn

Harley Street, Alexandria on Monday, 11 May 2020

I go to Harley Street in honour of the ‘Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn’ from the film Birds of Prey. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have recognised it as a female name. The film and the female characters in it are hilarious and very liberating, foremost Harley Quinn played by Margot Robbie.

At the corner of Harley Street is the Parkview Hotel. What park it’s viewing is unclear to me. I guess it’s the oval across Mitchell Road. The pub is closed, like all pubs in this time of lockdown. An improvised sign says ‘Pop Up Bottle Shop’ in uneven letters, picked out by the sun from the surrounding shadows as if it is on stage.

Although it’s only around 2 pm the light has already a late afternoon glow and creates strong shadows everywhere in the street. At another corner is a workshop called ‘Unique Plaster’ with a closed red shutter door. An ibis standing on a rock against a blue sky with fluffy white clouds is painted on the corner wall, like a company icon. Nearby in a window, a note tells the passer-by that there are desk spaces available for lease if you can’t go to the office or can’t work from home. 

Local history

Susan Street, Rose and Victoria Street, Newtown on Sunday, 10 May 2020

Susan Street is where Ali used to live. He is one of the people I met when I first came to Sydney, but we lost contact. He is a cobbler and ran a shop in Missenden Road.

I never ventured any further into the small streets past Ali’s flat. It’s a part of Newtown where I feel the past speaks to me. Small dwellings, local industry, a few pubs, a church and a cemetery.

Victoria Street ends at the gate to the old cemetery of St Stephen's Anglican Church. On this sunny Sunday afternoon, I see people walking in and out through the gate as if there is a special event. Even though we are still in lockdown and the streets are mostly empty. It’s a peaceful place to go for a quiet walk, like a sanctuary. The graves are old, and flowers grow in between. Pink cosmos, one of my favourite summer flowers, have grown very tall above the graveyard wall towards the sun.

Later I learn from the 'City of Sydney Historic Walks' website that the 'NSW Railway and Recreation Club' used to be at the corner of Victoria and O’Connell Street, now converted into apartments. The 'Older Women’s Network NSW' is also housed in Victoria Street in a gated, freestanding bungalow with a library and outdoor space.

“O’Connell Town”, Newtown on Wednesday, 27 May 2020

I have read in the meantime that the area of Victoria, Susan, Rose, and a few more streets around there was created as a kind of village under Governor Maurice O’Connell in the 1840s. It was intended as a service centre for the surrounding estates. It’s said to have been the only purpose-built entity in that district. I guess that's why I felt that history was speaking to me. It’s still nestling in the corners and niches, as I can sense the village and workman’s atmosphere here. On my several visits to this area, I see many young people on bicycles or scooters with delivery food bags. Sometimes they sit on or next to their vehicles with their mobiles in hand, waiting for the next job. It's still a service centre. Even Ali’s cobbler trade fits well.

Back to my history research: Victoria Street was formerly called Brick Street, and there were brick manufacturers and stone masons for the adjacent graveyard.

There is still a Mechanic Street in this area. ‘Mechanic’ was a common term for working-class men who were not farmers or domestic staff. There is also still a ‘Colonial Engineering Co.’ at the corner of O’Connell and Victoria. I wonder why they’ve kept a name like that. After reading some more, I learn that 'Colonial Engineering' ceased to exist and was converted into flats by 1997. They must have kept the signage for historical reasons.

Empty

Rose Street, Darlington on Friday, 1 May 2020

In both my old street directories from 1996 and 2007, there is a Rose Street at the University of Sydney campus, near the Swimming Pool between Darlington and Abercrombie Street. It’s not there anymore as hard as I try to find even a tiny trace of it. I remember the street from the past, as I’ve sometimes looked for a parking spot there. I believe there were wire mesh fences and low buildings which could have housed maintenance workshops. Now the recently built Business School takes up the whole space from Abercrombie Street to Darlington Lane.

It is Friday at about 1 pm on a sunny, windy day. The streets and places are empty apart from a few people who are most likely students living on the University campus. One young man carries a box of beer in his arms while he's riding at high speed on his skateboard. This earns the admiration of two youngsters who are passing by, and mine as well. These three are the only people I see. There are hardly any cars. Normally this area teams with people and cars queue up at the pedestrian crossings where you rarely have a moment without people traversing.

Laundry is drying in a backyard in Darlington Lane. I find this strangely reassuring.

We are closed for now

Rose Street and Tracey Lane, Chippendale on Tuesday, 28 April 2020

Rose Street runs from Cleveland Street, crosses Myrtle and later curves around to end in Buckland Street. There are some discarded household goods, a mattress and a chair. At first, the appearance of chairs in my photos was accidental. But now I am looking out for them. I read them as a metaphor for this state of ‘social distancing’ and isolation from each other. The chairs are empty because we don’t sit on them to be together with people. They are discarded because people have no guests and no parties. This chair is facing the backside of the mattress as if it is a film screen and has a beer bottle sitting on it.

It’s a grey day. The cream and white colours of walls and houses stand out nicely in this light. The grey colours, of which there are plenty, don’t fare so well. The part of Rose Street towards Cleveland Street is the location of The Duck Inn, a cozy and popular pub. The two blackboards on each side of a shuttered door say: “We are Closed for Now”. The other popular pub in the area, The Rose Hotel, is - despite its name - not in Rose but in Shepherd Street. Yellow autumn leaves are scattered on the pavement. Somewhere, red geraniums are still in full bloom. Sydney always has several things from the four seasons at once.

Tracey Lane is a short walk down from The Duck Inn. I had to find it with the navigator, there is no street name. It has an old abandoned factory and flats in other small industrial buildings. A ladder is propped up against a wall and I hear drilling noises and hammering from inside one building.  

No moon, no car

Henrietta Street, Chippendale on Tuesday, 28 April 2020

I'm in Henrietta Street at the spot where I took the photo Chippendale - Full Moon in 2004. At the time, I was chasing a full moon rising over the city for a photo idea. It somehow took me here.

The two buildings featured still exist. The warehouse has the same colours as before. Only the power lines which were attached to the wall are now gone.

Next is the old residential house. The colours have changed to cream instead of the former burgundy and white. A balcony has been added. The fence is different but by no means better or even newer looking. The unkempt plants outside are gone. A new high rise from ‘Central Park’ has changed the skyline.

From my viewpoint, I see just the tail of a white car parked at the street corner, exactly where I had my own white car parked in 2004. I originally included a bit of the car's rear end in the photo. Later I cropped it off and renamed the photo ‘No Moon, No Car’, free after Tom Wait’s song November.

There is actually no full moon visible in the photo but just the glow of it in the night sky.

View from Henrietta Street, 2020

Chippendale I - Full Moon, 2004

Welcome to Redfern

Caroline Street and Lane, Redfern on Sunday, 26 April 2020

Reko Rennie Community Project

This is one of the streets on ‘The Block’, the colloquial name of the precinct near Redfern Station owned by the Aboriginal Housing Company. The area was the first urban land rights claim in Australia, so I learned from the internet. It was set up by Aboriginal activists in 1972 and backed by the Whitlam Government. Funding for the project dried out, and the area fell into disrepair. When I moved to Redfern in 2001, it was a no-go zone. Even the rest of Redfern was like that in the eyes of people who didn’t live here. In those days, you could go or drive to the corner of Lawson and Eveleigh and find someone standing at the wall who would sell you small quantities of weed. I called it ‘supporting the local community’. One night I went to the street after dark to take photos by letting the camera hang around my neck and take shots blindly. It was in October 2003. Most of them didn’t work out, but one just emerged recently from my pile of old photos.

In February 2004 the so-called Redfern riots took place, sparked by the death of TJ Hickey. I arrived towards the end of it. Only a handful of people were left near a smouldering fire, encircled by police. Residents in Lawson Street sat peacefully on their front porches with glasses of wine and watched.

Caroline Street, Redfern in 2003

Redfern “Riot”, February 2004

At the end of Caroline Street towards Eveleigh Street was a large expanse of land, covered with grass. This was left over from demolished houses long before I knew ‘The Block’. At the end was the painting of the Aboriginal flag on the back wall of Tony Mundine’s boxing studio. Seeing it from the bridge at Redfern Station the building looked tiny against the high-rises of the CBD looming over it, the painting itself like a symbol of survival.

In May 2006, this precinct emerged from its dark ages by throwing a 'Block Party' on the grassland. They had a truck serving as a stage in front of the flag painting. Various music groups played while the audience sat leisurely in the grass.

In 2014 and 2015, the 'Tent Embassy' set up camp on that land to protest against the Aboriginal Housing Company’s development plan. They claimed it did not include enough affordable housing for Aboriginal families. After they were evicted, a fence was put around the field to prevent further occupation, so it could not even be used for leisure and play. This is all gone now, as the construction project named 'Pemulwuy' has finally gone ahead. It promises to provide housing for 600 students and 62 affordable dwellings for Aboriginal families, a gym, a childcare centre, a gallery and shops. The unfinished building now towers over the small terraces with their cute balconies on Caroline Street.

Another feature is the ‘Welcome to Redfern’ mural, painted onto the remains of a Victorian terrace. It was part of the City of Sydney's 'Eora Journey' project. Executed by the Aboriginal artist Reko Rennie together with young people from the area and curated by Hetti Perkins. Nearby is the Redfern Community Centre where they occasionally held the ‘Blak Market’.

Back to the day of my visit: It’s cloudy but warm. People sit on the steps at their open front doors or somewhere near the entrance inside. It’s quiet, nobody is working on the construction site because it’s Sunday. Otherwise, construction is one of the few businesses still happening these days.

Block Party, May 2006

Caroline Lane is a very narrow alley between Caroline and Lawson Street. I am surprised it even has a name. Two boys about 10 years old are constructing ramps from discarded boards and planks and trying their skateboards on them. The ramps are not high enough and there is no space to get a movement going. As I walk past they explain, “We are building a skateboard ramp.” I say, “I can see that and does it work?” “We are trying to make it work”. The end of the lane is blocked by a part of the construction site, so I have to turn back. The boys have given up and are sitting opposite each other. One has red hair, the other a green top. I think the one with the red hair should have to green top.  

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.

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.