A country fix this week – one I’d been missing.
Stillness. Country drives. Time in the garden. Twilight walks with the kangaroos.
Alby & Esthers’ Cafe in Mudgee
a big country sky
Passing through Mudgee and a stop at Alby & Esthers’ Cafe; sitting with coffee under the vine leaves in a shady courtyard hidden off the sunny wide streets.
honey eater in the gravel garden
kangaroos on the morning walk
Lots of little birds about; gathering & darting in flocks. There’s autumn in the air now.
from the vegetable patch
Pulling vegetables from the vegetable patch, picking beans. The colours so vibrant and alive. Then the endless weeding out of the kikuya grass – not too sure about the pleasure/pain ratio here. There might be a necessary simplification coming- down to the essentials and favourites: spinach, cherry tomatoes, zucchini,herbs, cucumbers.
A drive up to the lookout after the rain, the light beautiful and soft. A radiance over the landscape. This is where it seeps into your bones – creating a calmness that lasts way through the long drive back to the city.
walking under the antelopes – the entrance to Taronga Zoo
Driving down the streets of beautiful old timber houses, it’s the strange sounds you hear first; hysterical cries, possibly a monkey – preparing you for the magical world of Taronga Zoo. The entry building is from Sydney’s story book architecture period; rows of plaster animal heads, wreaths encircling koalas & and a dome on top.
a ceremonial entry
the little baby chimp…
The zoo seems to have its own microclimate – steamier and more tropical than the rest of Sydney. Running down the side of a hill with winding paths overshadowed by large trees, fig trees growing out of rocks – it joins up to a ferry route down the bottom.
seat made of bush rock
Giraffe & Centrepoint Tower
The giraffes get the best view – right out over the harbour…
another seat along the path
lemurs – you can actually walk through this enclosure
I like looking for the remnants of the old zoo, the parts that date from the 1915 on, like the fantastical elephant house. The beautiful old rock seats made of bush stone are inspiring.
heading back to the house…
the former elephant house
I always leave wanting to come back. Such a complete distraction from the business of the world…
I hope they never repaint this wall in Five Ways
Hot sultry nights work in the Inner East of Sydney. Even though most of the terrace houses have been done up now- there’s still a bit of ramshackle charm; some peeling paint behind the wrought iron balconies, a few palms in the backyards. The growth spurt that often happens in February means that vines get out of control, and the air is fragrant with frangipani, especially in the tropical rain.
old apartment in Darlinghurst
at Chester White
Buffalo Dining Club and Chester White, two relatively new bar/restaurants both designed by Diane Fernandes are an exercise in how to create an atmosphere that best reflects the area – wonderful vintage style signage, peeling paint textures and exposed brick, casual light fittings with clean modern lines.
an incongruous picket fence
barista at Chester White
looking out to Kings Cross
pickles on fireplace
wonderful use of a mirror to enhance a space
upstairs at Buffalo Dining Club
I think the key to living in Sydney is to seek out the spots where there is a connection to water. And there is so much of it, such choice.
The surf beaches are proven classics, but the harbour contains secrets- little beaches and coves nestled in parks. They feel less commercial, less about signs and shops – calmer. The occasional glimpses of the Harbour Bridge the only reminder you are in a city.
looking back at Nielson from the headland
one of the textures of Sydney- rough hewn sandstone
Nielson Park is one of the most magical. It could be the setting for a performance of “A Midsummer’s Nights Dream”– the audience following the actors round through the park, up the sandstone stairs, onto the moonlit beach. There’s light and dark here- beauty and strangeness.
a peak of the Harbour Bridge
like from a Cambodian temple
The kiosk is from 1915 and is of the style with the bulky title of Queen Anne Federation. I prefer to think of it as “Story book” architecture- it has a quaintness and whimsy that could accommodate talking rabbits… Only recently I realised there was a tunnel from the beach to some sunken dressing rooms, built in the same era.
dreamy … the Nielson Park Kiosk
posts of the shark net
The old name for Nielson was ‘Shark Beach’- and there is a shark net that contains the swimming area. More darkness in the prettiness.
the barrier between sharks and humans
During the weekends it gets very crowded- groups having BBQs, games on the beach – full of life going on. But it is at dusk and dawn that Neilson slips back into its ethereal magic – just waiting for the night curtain to rise…
Going through the original inspiration for the old schoolmasters house – piles of well worn pages torn from old World of Interiors, the credits and stories lost in time. Revisiting Rebecca Purcell’s book “Interior Alchemy” – unique & wonderful.
Some images turn up ideas that have already been absorbed into the house while others provoke new thoughts…
From Rebecca Purcell’s Interior Alchemy
Randomness, florals, quilts, little bird pictures, baskets… …moving fast & keeping it loose.
A strong coloured trim. Vestibules and mudrooms with a pleasing array of hats & baskets
- handmade textiles.
Rough paint samples left as layers, organic textures.
From Rebecca Purcell’s Interior Alchemy
Collections on the wall, spareness & space, utilitarian repurposed furniture.
The bed as the centre piece of the room, roughly held valances, rich fabrics against a plain background.
And botanical charts, strong coloured walls, graphic textiles and random handmade lights
Just being simple.
I like seeing spaces where art and craft are created. It’s seeing the garden where the flowers have come from. The paint splashes and dents and flecks make a patina that gives context. Objects and tools are arranged in pleasing utilitarian formats. These are spaces focused around beautiful quality of light and which are self contained – looking inwards not outwards.
Lino Alvarez and Kim Deacon run La Paloma pottery in Hill End. They live and work in a collection of historic buildings that includes a personal studio where Kim plays the harp and an atmospheric outdoor eating area that evokes Lino’s Mexican heritage. The workshop was built by them from hay bales, bush logs & salt encrusted windows from an old wharf in Sydney.
outside, late afternoon
My visit coincides with pottery being taken out of the kiln & there’s something magic about seeing the batches of plates being removed and stacked. The clay comes from Gulgong, another small town in the area. In a time of exodus of manufacturing from Australia, it’s inspiring to see two people just solidly making beautiful things.
And good to see them supported by some of the most stylish restaurants in Sydney – Porteno, the Grounds among others.
Mostly La Paloma is commissioned for their restaurant ware & large pots. The only way to obtain individual pieces is to travel to Hill End, four hours from Sydney and buy from the studio direct. A trek with rewards.
those heavy log columns
So this is what people mean when they talk about the importance of provenance. There’s life in the ceramics I buy- an earthiness and a weight. Now I don’t want to eat breakfast from any other bowl. This might be the start of a collection…
the old salt encrusted windows in the corner of the studio
Happy Christmas – Peace & Joy.
“The past is a foreign country – they do things differently there…” so holds the famous opening of The Go- Between. But in small old Gold Rush towns the past seems closer, the borders that define the countries are blurred…
the lower photograph of the famous Holtermann
In the dusty sunlight shards penetrating The Royal Hall in Hill End time frames intersect. Built in 1900 it is endearingly small, a pocket town hall, more the proportions of a barn. There’s something I find inspiring in the decoration- it’s strong and graphic, enhanced with beautiful patinas. The floor of narrow timber boards is scuffed and worn. The dado that wraps around is a rich oxblood. A piano stands in the corner.
A wonderful picture hang runs along the two long walls. Stern Victorian photos mostly, some ornately designed certificates. Oval frames break up the rectangles. A Surry Hills wine bar would be delighted to purchase the wall whole. But here it’s authentic, not a stylised version of the past. The photos date back to the Gold Rush, including one of Holtermann who found the famous large Gold Nugget. There are descendants of these long ago portraits living in the town still.
Recently the local school – with its total of 5 kids, held their end of year presentation & play on this stage, appropriately framed by the red velvet curtain.
Seeing the magnificent & magical Chanel show set in a Dallas barn this week , Karl Lagerfeld’s mesmerising dream of the Wild West, I wonder how the natural theatrics of this space could be taken further. Perhaps a hoe- down – straw scattered on the floor, hay bales about and a caller for the square dance moves. Or the curtain rising on a country trio singing bluegrass songs, the hall lit by candles – followed by something electronic/instrumental
that raises the ghosts of the gold miners past…
The kangaroos add a wild element to the atmosphere of the old schoolmasters house. They usually congregate just over the back fence at the end of day, a mob of about fifty. Eating the grass, peaceably. Often a couple of young bucks boxing. Mothers with their joeys. It’s a complete world & society.
They are compelling to watch. Not sure where else in the world – perhaps in Africa, you would get such large wild animals this close to a small village. It can feel like being in a zoo enclosure with a wrap around view. They are strange and unusual creatures – completely unlike other animals. The tiny little arms. The small joey heads poking out of their mothers’ pouches. The boing boing movement so fast and powerful. And yet somehow the final result is wonderful – they are creatures of grace, not comedy.
A recent theory holds that human beings are herd animals. A herd being defined as more than five. In an era of relatively fewer family groups of this number, perhaps this is one reason why it’s fascinating and somehow satisfying to watch a herd of animals interact.
Out on a walk you can surprise a few in the bush. There’s a low humph humphing sound I’ve come to associate with them. There is interaction – basically an intense stare and forward rotating ears, often accompanied by a total freeze of posture. Suddenly, like a schoolyard game, there is a whole field of kangaroo statues. The inspiration for concrete garden ornaments becomes clear.
When they’re not there, absent to some other kangaroo grazing land- I miss them. They turn the sunset landscape into a magical world. Creatures from the Dreaming.