Skip to content

Category Archives: uninhabited

day 4: the mountain

In order to escape the rain, seek snow, get mist. It’s a moral about avoiding what is coming to you by driving headlong into something which, although uncertain, is at least different.

Day 1: the misty moors

Like I said, we spent three days filming rock in Tasmania. I was just along for the drive. The conception of island is challenged when you drive for 5 hours and a full packet of mint slice without seeing the coast, and when you have grown up on this small island  and yet, in your [...]

landscape experience

Thoreau, not so deep in the woods after all, but on the edge of town and close to his mother. what language do you use to talk about landscape? if you lived in wilderness would you run out of words to say? if you didn’t have a camera would you still go on holiday?

kayak #2

live blogging from the middle of a lake in the south west of Tasmania without my phone; without batteries or time or weather forecasts. sitting in a yellow canoe in the middle of the lake. there’s a wonky castellation of unclimbed pinnacles tracing the circular horizon like a hard craggy dinosaur shell, and I’m in [...]

rivers of rock

we are filming the colder outer circles of hell, not a soul. the thing about driving in the ravines and ridges of Tasmania, with ominous orchestral zomby on repeat, is this: You are simultaneously all alone and about to come face-to-face with a man in a four-wheel-drive. he has noted your number plate.

out of the tunnel

magic realism becomes irritating but it makes for cracking summer reading. I probably don’t even know what magic realism is. in the first week of the year we took a drive around northern Lilydale to a tunnel and a cycling event which I think was really magic. The tunnel might once have been full of [...]

Glover Country

at the very end of last century my friend was immersed in the production of a stack of paintings of dead trees which I believe evidence a long lived compulsion of this corner of Tasmania. for the cost of an extra 10 minutes of driving, the partially unsealed road from Evandale through Nile takes you [...]

the colony

Meg was running late, the whole suite of excuses: lightning and thunder, bike puncture, slow trams. So I ducked into the gallery at a serendipitous hour on the first Tuesday in November when a horse-race in the west had drained the city and its gallery of people. I hadn’t been there for years. Combined with [...]

southern tasmania

in southern Tasmania the leaves of the gumtrees are blue. everything is blue here except the orange ship waiting for Antarctica.

the catalogue of mountains

i havent been at the pinacle of a mountian since Arthur. I think there are some inland, but inland is a long way if you’re not on an island, sleeping in the moon-landsacpe of a volcano where just warm and cold air separates your brother from the atlantic.