Epilogue

Roslyn Street, Kings Cross, 7 June 2021

In the final month before my exhibition, I realised that I cannot visit all of Sydney’s streets with female names. I would have liked to go to Sandy Glen, Nadine Close, Kerry Avenue or Kim Street because I know women with these names who might possibly visit the exhibition and should find a photo with their name. But this would have meant to do many more trips to far-away suburbs. Looking at some of them on Google maps also told me that these streets are mostly residential and very similar to each other. I took some screenshots from the map, but that was not the original idea. So the most logical moment to stop was with the exhibition Random Discoveries in April 2021.

There were also a few streets in my vicinity that I had missed. One of them was Roslyn Street in Kings Cross. This street has a lot of memories for me as I lived nearby in Macleay Street when I had come to Sydney in 1997. It marks the beginning of my life in this city. That’s why I want to include it here at the end of this journal.

In those days the street was busy by day and night. There was the Café Amsterdam at the corner to a small lane. Smoking was still allowed in cafés and bars then. In the ‘Amsterdam’ people often smoked other stuff than just cigarettes. Next door was the Baron’s, a bar to chill out late at night. On the other side of the street was the Piccolo Bar, an iconic café since 1952. The owner Vittorio himself was always present, making cups of coffee and chatting with customers.

My visit today is not the first one since the heady days of the late 1990s. I’ve been here many times and know that the ‘Amsterdam’ and ‘Barons’ are long gone. Instead, there is a commercial building by the Architects Durbach Block which won the Harry Seidler Award. It is impressive but somehow cold and impersonal. At least on my last visits, Vittorio was still there, sitting outside of his café and talking to his friends.

This time, after lock-outs and lockdowns the street looks sad. The Piccolo Bar is closed, and newspapers boarding up the windows. I heard that Vittorio has retired and wants to sell it.

It is the beginning of June 2021 and I don’t know yet that the longest lockdown is still to come.

Angel

Angel Street, Newtown on Friday, 5 March 2021

This street has a lot of variety, considering that it’s only small. Here is the old, derelict factory which you can see from the platform of Newtown Station. It must be one of the last abandoned industrial sites in Sydney still standing untouched. Further down is a community garden before the street turns into a footpath with a village feel to it. I imagine the two empty shops at a corner to have been the butcher and the baker in days long ago. The news agency was in the next street. I recognise it from the peeling ‘Daily Telegraph’ sign.

The fence at the end of the world

Emma Street, Leichhardt on Sunday, 14 February 2021

I have noticed Emma Street a while ago. At the upper end, it feels to me like stepping into a surreal film setting. The world seemingly ends here at a wooden fence, just as the German folk saying went when I was a child. This part of Leichhardt is on a hill before the land slopes down into a valley, so that from a certain angle you only see blue sky above the fence. The deserted colonial house with its verandah on stilts contributes to the bizarre scene.

Hot Asphalt

Crystal Street, Rozelle on Thursday, 21 January 2021

Crystal is a U-shaped, small street between Wellington and Terry ending at Victoria Road. It seems to be hard to reach, coming from the city by car. Maybe that’s why it still looks like a remnant of old times in the midst of new developments. Not in the sense of historical buildings, but rather something thrown together haphazardly and then forgotten. There is a mix of modest homes and local industry. One of them is a panel beating shop. So there must be a way for the initiated to get in here with their cars.

In fact, the difficulty reaching this spot at the moment is due to the extensive road works happening in Victoria Road. The pungent odour of hot tar is drifting over from the construction site. The smell should be unpleasant, but I almost like it. It brings back memories of playing in the streets in my hometown Hamburg, when, in hot summers, the asphalt melted in the heat.

And the times they are a-changin'

Fanny Place, Surry Hills on Friday 15 January 2021

It’s a small lane, lined by neat, freshly painted houses. People who live here meet for a glass of wine outside on Sunday evenings, as I discovered one day when coming past by coincidence. Today a plaque in the small playground tells me that the area became a desired address in the 1830s. In the 1860s mechanics, shopkeepers and skilled artisans moved in. And by the turn of the 20th century, it was an overcrowded slum. Now Fanny Place looks gentrified and rather wealthy.

The plaque doesn’t tell me that this was and always will be Gadigal land.

Olivia

Olivia Lane, Surry Hills on Friday, 15 January 2021 and 17 April 2020

I have gone back to Olivia Lane to get a photo of the street name for my exhibition project. My first visit was in the early weeks of the first lockdown in April 2020. I didn’t post my journal then, because I didn’t get any interesting photos. This lane shows mainly the backside of houses, fences and garage doors.

At one end it leads to Devonshire Street and the new tramline. When I look around the corner I notice a red armchair has replaced the discarded mattress from last year. This was the meeting place for a group of skateboarders, and maybe it still is. The only other person I saw then was a girl, about 8 years old, dancing all by herself a kind of hip-hop dance, pretty good. When I came nearer I heard that she was dancing to “Don’t worry, be happy”. She stopped and smiled at me. I smiled back and said “very nice”. She also had hopscotch squares drawn on the asphalt. She seemed to know how to keep up her spirits in those scary and lonely times.

Cecilia

Cecilia Street, Marrickville on Tuesday, 5 January 2021

From the corner of Cecilia Street, the view goes to the Marrickville Town Hall and a winged goddess on a pedestal in front.

The street is a cul-de-sac, ending with a block of units. It looks almost like a gated community. There are two long rows of garbage bins lined up on the side of the footpath. A young man comes out from the property, rolling a bin to join the others. He’s wearing a mask and a turban and looks suspiciously at me. I don’t know why as I haven’t even taken any photos yet. I think it’s this aimless, slow walking and looking around, this loitering in a place without an apparent purpose that is suspicious. I turn around but observe that he is appearing again and again, one bin at a time. A tedious job.

Chelsea and Zamia

Chelsea and Zamia Street, Redfern on Monday, 19 October 2020

On the corner of Chelsea Street are the ‘Little Evie’ café and deli. This street has some very pretty houses, some of them timber cottages. One building is grey and quite neglected. It must have been a warehouse recognisable from the loading beam. The window underneath is bricked up. There is another neglected warehouse and a Victorian terrace, apparently also empty, with trees and vines taking over. Chelsea Lodge is a 60s yellow brick block and advertises a flat for lease. As I walk along on one side of the street, I pass a school girl, about 10 years old who is wearing magenta-coloured leg warmers. When I go back on the other side, she comes towards me again. 

I have taken photos in Zamia Street before around 2005. I can’t find the spot where I photographed the public housing buildings through bougainvillea blossoms. But the blocks are still there, looming against dark clouds. These are the ones belonging to the complex built in the 1970s with a utopian vision and now threatened to be demolished. The development plans were already made public a few years ago. It is unclear yet what is going to happen.

Further down the street is a shed-like construction that seemed to be made entirely out of rusty corrugated-iron panels. That’s what I thought back then. But it is a solid house and a family is apparently living there. I hear the voices of children from behind the fenced-in yard.

Strangely, the girl with the magenta leg warmers is with me again, this time accompanied by another girl and a woman. They all get into a car. The two streets are not even so close to each other. I feel like a stalker.

Both Chelsea and Zamia have a playground that is full of children and adults, real neighbourhood meeting points. If you have small children…

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.

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.

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.

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.