There’s a lane-way not far from where I live which I’ve walked through literally thousands of times. Previously on this blog I’ve complained its a lane-way many men will often pop into for a quiet wee late at night. It’s also a lane-way where homeless people will stop to rest for the night. A few months ago a guy called Matt, who I sometimes chat to, who will often sleep rough in nearby Wilshire Lane, left a sign on a shopping trolley saying, “Matt’s home. Please don’t touch. No valuables”.
As of today, the laneway now has a public art project called “Village Voices”, about which the artist Astra Howard says:
This public artwork aims to capture and then communicate diverse stories from and about Surry Hills. Through the constantly rearranged letters, this artwork recalls intimate games of scrabble, the compositing machine of long ago and the advent of mass communication. The changing letters/words tell local stories through poems and prose, prompting passersby to think about diverse issues that affect them, from the local to the global.
Public health warning or soft-drink advertisement? As I walked along Macquarie Street this afternoon I looked up towards the sky and noticed the words “stay cool”.
“What a great idea”, I thought to myself. “It’s a public health warning from the state government”, I believed at first.
On a very warm day in Sydney, it was a timely reminder – I thought – of the need do all of those things the health authorities normally warn us to do via the radio.
Well, that’s what I thought it was.
And I suspect most people thought it was until about ten minutes later, the words “Lipton Ice Tea” also appeared in the sky.
“What happened on the twenty-eighth of February was not a flood. I’ve lived through over 40 years of floods, all of us have in Lismore and the Northern Rivers. This was like an inland tsunami. It was utter devastation, and it was a humanitarian disaster. And that’s why I want to make sure that we’re not forgotten.”, Janelle Saffin, the NSW Member for Lismore, told me as I interviewed her about the exhibition “Through the heart… a flood of fears and tears”, currently on display at the NSW Parliament.
In the weeks and months after the floods in February/March, “retired” Lismore photographer, Jacklyn Wagner knocked on the doors of people in parts of town where there were “signs of life”. These were the houses where people, despite the devastation, people had chosen to return “home”.
She knocked on the door of a number of my own family members and took their photographs.
Jack Bobbin, featured in the flood survivors exhibition at the NSW Parliament
Of the roughly 100 people she spoke to and photographed, only two said no. “And it wasn’t was never aggressively”, Jacklyn told me. “One person said I want to but I just can’t at the moment. I just don’t feel right. And the other one eventually got back to me., and they’re part of they’re part of it”.
Along with local politicians, Ben Franklin (National Party) and Janelle Saffin (Labor), some of the people from Lismore featured in the exhibition.
I first became aware of Jacklyn’s photography work in the exhibition “Southies”, a wonderful black and white photographic collection of the community, where I grew up, and where most of my family still lives, South Lismore. https://thelimbshift.com/2019/12/art-in-lismore/
The photographer, Jacklyn Wagner with myself, and Sydney Morning Herald journalists, Heath Gilmore and Catherine Naylor. Heath grew up in Lismore, and Catherine worked for a while at Lismore’s “Northern Star” newspaper. Their reporting on the flood and the aftermath has been with great local insight, and concern for the community.
At the launch and dinner afterwards, I chatted (sometimes quite emotionally) with a number of people from South Lismore. It didn’t take long to find the connectors. You just had to know a more specific address, a cross street. There were “only one or two degrees of separation, not six when it comes to people in Lismore”, a few of us joked.
“It was beautiful”, Katie said, adding “It was not what I was expecting to see. When you look at the photos… everybody looks so lost.”.
“I think everybody wants a little bit more clarity. I think they want a little bit more security. Because would you seem to be going round and round in circles, and no one’s giving us proper feedback. And you still today when it rains? We panic. And no person should live like that.”
The current exhibition of 25 photographs is at the NSW Parliament until November 24, and the complete exhibition of 100 photographs opens in May 2023.
Launch of Lismore flood exhibition at the NSW Parliament
When will it go on display in Lismore?
“We don’t have a gallery at the moment. I’ve thought about it quite a bit. I don’t know whether it’s actually the right time. It may not be for a couple of years. And it’s probably something I would actually consult with all those people who are in my project as to how they feel about that. I’m sure in time it will be but that’s the way I would approach it. I would want it to be somewhere beautiful for them in Lismore, too”, Jacklyn said.
I’ve spent 30 minutes or so tonight doing some hand-washing.
Unfortunately my washing machine is acting up at the moment. It does it from time to time, regrettably. Normally, I just need to power down, let it rest, and then it’s back and fully operational. Let’s hope that happens again.
Co-incidentally, I noticed someone had thrown out their Fisher and Paykel washing machine in the back lane-way.
Mine has been a trusty friend for over a decade now. Maybe it’s time to replace it?
I still remember vividly the night I bought it from Harvey Norman at Moore Park.
I’d had a trusty old Whirlpool which had lasted for a number of years, but unfortunately had developed the habit of walking across the floor when it went into spin-cycle.
I put up with it for a while, until one night when I was walking downstairs with some garbage and I overhead a neighbour say… “Oh no, it’s that fucking washing machine again”.
Such a comment was enough to convince me it was time for a replacement.
It’s a bummer that I’ve had to resort to hand-washing tonight, though, as I have a VIP guest at work tomorrow I need to meet and greet. Thus, I’ve gone through my wardrobe, have chosen the best shirt and tie etc ahead of the visit.
In other domestic news, I noticed an interesting change in the garbage room downstairs. We used to have equal numbers of paper and bottle recycling bins. In a sign of the times, we now have more bottle recycling bins than papers bins. I guess it’s an indication that either we’re doing more things online and buying fewer newspapers, or maybe it’s a sign we’re all drinking far too much? :)
In the midst of all this domesticity, I did find a few minutes for a bit of “me” time. I popped down the street tonight for a meal at my favourite local Thai, where I enjoyed some BBQ octopus with rice. Excellent.
As I sat there and watched the passing parade of those coming in for take-away, and those enjoying a Sunday night meal together, I pondered for a moment who goes out on a Sunday night.
There were three young backpackers waiting for some takeaway. There were two young blokes on an internet date (I presume, because of the body language and lack of fluent conversation). And there was a couple with a baby. Unlike many young couples who seem to communicate to each other through the child, they genuinely seemed interested in each other, and were having a lovely time together, it seemed. And of course, there was me, the bloke who needed a break from hand-washing.
The only other memorable thing about this thing was running into my friend John for the second time in 24-hours. We saw each other on Goulburn Street yesterday as he was heading off to a movie with friends. And then we saw each other again today at Railway Square. “Are you stalking me?”, I asked him with a laugh.
It will be a reasonably early night in bed for me. A bit of tv. Write some emails. Go to bed. Get up early and iron. I live such a glamorous life!
A seemingly perfectly good Fisher and Paykel discarded in my laneway.
About the only good thing worth reading in the Sunday papers, these days, is the wedding profiles. I had completely forgotten it was Valentine’s Day until someone mentioned it at work.
I’ve been really busy the last few days preparing for something major at work today. All in all, the preparation turned out to be worth it. But somehow in the last few days I lost track of time.
That’s my excuse for why I didn’t spend Valentine’s Day out and about at a restaurant gazing lovingly into someone’s eyes.
Instead, I’ve just woken up after two or three hours collapsed on the couch.
Although I didn’t work physically all that hard today, I guess I did expend a lot of emotional energy throughout the day.
Thus, by the time I got home I just hopped on the couch and collapsed.
My selection of A-Pac, the new public affairs channel on Foxtel probably helped me fall asleep. Or maybe it was the glass of wine I had.
When I woke up a few minutes ago, Malcolm Turnbull was still on the television.
“You’ve missed Valentine’s Day”, I thought to myself when I woke suddenly from the couch.
After years of listening to Swedish pop via record, CD, downloads and, more recently Youtube, I have now listened, watched, experienced, and danced to it, in its natural environment.
I went out last night to Lino. Although as an Australian I was tempted to refer to it as “lie-no”, of course it’s actually “lee-no”. In researching this trip, I’ve been looking at online, and the photographs of the crowd always seemed to indicate it was a pretty cool place. Maybe too cool for me, I thought. As I entered last night, I walked around for a bit of a reccy. There was an outdoor courtyard playing generic “cool music” where people were smoking. I must write sometime about the Swedes and smoking by the way. There was a room where they were playing generic kinda housey-disco. There was another bar of an indescript nature. But of course, I settled into the “schlager bar”. The bar was a fairly even mixture of men and women out for a good time on a Saturday night. OK maybe two thirds male and one third female, to be honest. They were all boozing up and singing along with the music. The music was loud, by the way, and definitely Swedish. And on the television screens they were playing this year’s Melodifestivalen DVD.
After years of waiting to experience something like this, I actually became a little bit teary for a moment. And then, of course, they played “Crying At The Discoteque” which is one of my favourites from the last ten years. “Oh my God”, I thought this is it… “some absolutely classic Swedish disco in an absolutely classic Swedish disco”. And then…“Mamma Mia” came on. OH MY GOD. At that point I thought I had died and gone to heaven. You know how in Sydney when you go out and ABBA comes on, it can sound a bit “rinky-dinky”, and is usually only played in a “retro” context for a bit of novelty value? Well last night, “Mamma Mia” sounded totally contemporary and totally in context with the rest of the music played.
Oddly enough they sometimes played the same songs over and over again in quick succession, which I thought was strange for a nightclub. The DJ last night, though, clearly LOVED the music he was playing, and it was infectious. The American tourists standing near me were totally overwhelmed by the sight of hundreds of people singing along to pop songs in Swedish. You could see the look of bewilderment on their faces as they walked through to the outdoor bar.
I don’t recall what time I got home, but it was just starting to become daylight, so I guess it was about 3.00am.
I got a little teary also tonight at the Peter Joback and Eva Dahlgren concert at Skansen. I’ve been aware of Peter’s work since he appeared on the original CD for “Kristina fran Duvemala”. Along the way, I’ve picked up three other CDs. I wasn’t, however, really aware of Eva Dahlgren (nor her work), though I knew she was a legendary Swedish “rock chick”. Without the intimate knowledge of their respective back catalogues, I lacked some of the instant familiarity with the work enjoyed by the rest of the audience. Also, because all of the songs were in Swedish (along with all of the patter in between), I sometimes found myself a little confused. I could understand the basic premise of some of the anecdotes, but the punchlines usually went over my head. Although there was a funny bit relating to musical instruments. As an encore, they began a song together playing recorders (flute things) of differing size. When Peter said something along the lines of wishing he had the bigger one, Eva responded along the lines of “of course you do”. I understood that joke perfectly.
Peter Jöback at Skansen
Eva Dahlgren at Skansen
Peter Jöback and Eva Dahlgren at Skansen
Peter Jöback at Skansen
Peter Jöback and Eva Dahlgren at Skansen
Crowd watches Peter Jöback and Eva Dahlgren at Skansen
Peter Jöback and Eva Dahlgren at Skansen
Sun sets over Stockholm
Dance floor at Club LIno in Stockholm
I had an excellent seat on the far left-hand side of the second row. I’m reasonably sure Lena Ulvaeus (Bjorn’s wife) and daughters were sitting in the same row, though I’m not sure, as I haven’t seen photographs of them for a while. She did, however, laugh and scratch her nose during an extended anecdote about Bjorn and Benny. But the concert itself? Wow, what a great experience. Peter is a much better singer live than I’ve ever heard captured on CD. He has a lovely voice which can both be gentle and soar, and really has a “joyous” quality to it. He seems to sing well effortlessly. Eva also had a wonderful voice, which really shone when she sang slow and gentle ballads. Most memorable was a song with the recurring line about “I saw you” which was sung beautifully and with passion. The song which made my eyes well up, though, was “Stockholm i Natt”, one of Peter’s recent hit songs. It’s a love song about Stockholm in effect, as it takes you on a journey around the city, with specific mentions of places like Medborgarplatsen and events such as the assasination of Anna Lindh in 2003. And so I’m sitting there, listening to a wonderful song sung by a great performer, about a terrific place that I’ve longed to visit for many years, and I’m looking at both him and the wonderful Swedish summer evening… so of course my eyes welled up. Does life get any better, I thought to myself. And I really loved their third encore, yes third, a song called “Juni, Juli, Augusti”. I know this sounds all very dramatic for those in Europe who can regularly go to Stockholm and have this experience, but for a kid from the bush in Australia, it’s all very exciting indeed.
Afterwards I followed the crowd out and caught the ferry from Djurgarden to Slussen. I couldn’t believe how many people they managed to squeeze on board. Catching the ferry, I was squeezed in tightly between a couple of gay boys and a male/female couple. Needing to steady myself I held on to the railing. And then the woman kinda lent against me and plopped (and rested) her left boob on my hand. I’ve had to totally re-think my attitudes to personal space since arriving in Stockholm, clearly.
“I thought the Swedes were so hip and cool”, a number of friends and colleagues have said to me, when I’ve told them about a fairly dark past, about how Swedes treated Indigenous people there, the Sami. With a number of parallels to what happened in Australia and many other countries, it’s a very sad story.
The film “Sami Blood” (Sameblood) goes some way to helping people better understand the historical context. Told through the lens of one woman’s story, you get an insight into the personal, as well as the political reasons, why so many people became isolated from Sami culture. The film tells the story of a woman returning to Northern Sweden for the funeral of her sister. And while the returning sister claims to have nothing to do with her Indigenous heritage, the funeral rites for the sister remain firmly in the Sami tradition. The film then takes us back to why the returning sister chose to deny that part of her heritage. By the film’s end, there’s a resolution. It’s a beautiful film, and one I’d highly recommend.
It’s just one of two films I’ve seen, so far, at the Scandinavian Film Festival.
The other was called “Tom Of Finland”, tells the story of 1980s/1990’s popular culture artist. As with Sami Blood, the film starts in the 1940s, when the real life Tom was in the Finnish army, fighting the Soviet Union. The film then runs through the next thirty or forty years, as the real life Tom experiences the life of being a gay man, living in what appears to be a deeply conservative Finland. Until, finally, his art work, with its deep homoeroticism is discovered in America, becomes part of the popular culture, and perhaps influences a whole generation of “leather men”. It’s fascinating.
Even a week later, I’m still raving about the these two films. There’s another film I’m thinking of heading along to. The next couple of weeks are busy, so I’ll see how it all goes.
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After posting, I received an email from a friend saying “This is great James. I had heard about this. The artist wants a variety of voices heard so she is running a workshop at the neighbourhood centre on 22nd September so any Surry Hills local can share their story. I’m planning on going. Let me know if you want to go.”
After posting, I received an email from a friend saying “This is great James. I had heard about this. The artist wants a variety of voices heard so she is running a workshop at the neighbourhood centre on 22nd September so any Surry Hills local can share their story. I’m planning on going. Let me know if you want to go.”