Gallery of Modern Art (GOMA), Queensland Art Gallery (QAG), Queensland Museum and the Library
Culture in excess if that is possible
I am not going to attempt to separate by location the topics I found interesting at these four cultural buildings because there is little point and they are but a miniscule part of the expansive displays on offer to quench one’s cultural appetite. Each building was worth one day of time and many returns but time was a luxury we had to ration very carefully.
I thought you’d be interested to see the artist Sidney Nolan’s stance on the story of Eliza Fraser and her time on Fraser Island that we visited on the Great Sandy Strait part of our voyage south. We had come across Nolan artworks in the Gallery in Adelaide and his fascination at the time I was a child in the 1950s and 60s for her 19th century story reflects the ongoing European and colonial interest and the frustration for the aborigines over this controversial woman and her malevolent post trauma anti native propaganda. She was unwittingly influential in that her behaviour and situation shaped Nolan’s style as an artist over a century later, a slight deviation from her infamy I guess, but I get the impression from his painting of her on all fours that he considered her to be an awkward, arrogant person and an enemy to herself first and foremost, certainly a square peg in a round hole.
I thought it relevant that the women with whom she stayed for a few weeks could not understand why she would not listen to their wisdom and guidance and made life hard for herself and I guess that when they plastered her with fish oil and clay it was to protect her white skin from the sun. Could the bones in her matted hair be meant to ridicule her for her foolishness or an attempt to give her status and help her feel welcome or better in some way?
At the same time Sidney Nolan was at work young aborigine children and babies were still being taken from their mothers to be raised as white youngsters with no communication with their real families or clans, this was happening in my living memory, such a short time ago, which is disturbing. However I was amazed to see that just twenty years later, another short time for such a paradigm shift, the Queensland Education Board deemed it important that Aborigine and Torres Strait Island children should help in the telling of their own real life stories and experiences as part of their own cultural heritage to provide a legacy for the future. In every book and gift shop we go to we see collections of their stories including, of course the aborigine creation stories from their Dreamtime.
Rob was familiar with the Greek Café culture from his visit to Agina in the Med and the exhibition was a refreshing change to everything we had seen. Born of the Oyster fishing industry that was in decline the cafes transformed to sell all kinds of European and American food, cheaply and all day long. The ethos of the café owners was ‘hospitality’ and they struck a chord with the native people in their sense of the importance of community. Now that they no longer exist I thought was sad because gone with them is their community mindedness.
I thought you might like the ‘Investigator’ tree exhibit, just the thought that someone from Matthew Flinders crew wrote on the tree that has since escaped the risk of bush fires and of rotting away is an unusual window on history and it reminded me of the one we saw in the little museum near Napier, in New Zealand that escaped the volcanic eruption of Mt Tarawera and grew upwards for years after with a singer sewing machine wedged between two branches, remember? Immortalised forever in a museum.
I included the Mephisto German Tank story for two reasons. What an example of substantial German design and over kill in the construction of the tank and how quickly the Australian Army Battalion captured it and made it their own by punching their names on the front after the original crew abandoned it having driven into a bomb crater. For some reason I found the story amusing.
Then there was Frenchman Nicolas Mole’s version of the Kanak creation stories. He is from Lifou, and we sailed south of that island on our way to New Caledonia, even if we didn’t go there at least we saw a little of their culture. I sat on the cushioned benches in the centre and moved around as the goldfish swam and then the first spirits arrived. It was fascinating and a big, panoramic exhibit.
Finally another artist we have seen before, again when we were in Napier, Yuki Kihara taking on the character of half Samoan, half New Zealander Salome who lived in the nineteenth century. Using her hands and clever lighting and in black period clothes she uses her hands and the medium of film to tell the story of climate change and the destructive effects of the 2009 tsunami, Galu Afi. Moving art made a change to still exhibits. Enjoy.
Gallery of Modern Art (GOMA), Queensland Art Gallery (QAG), Queensland Museum and the Library
Culture in excess if that is possible
I am not going to attempt to separate by location the topics I found interesting at these four cultural buildings because there is little point and they are but a miniscule part of the expansive displays on offer to quench one’s cultural appetite. Each building was worth one day of time and many returns but time was a luxury we had to ration very carefully.
I thought you’d be interested to see the artist Sidney Nolan’s stance on the story of Eliza Fraser and her time on Fraser Island that we visited on the Great Sandy Strait part of our voyage south. We had come across Nolan artworks in the Gallery in Adelaide and his fascination at the time I was a child in the 1950s and 60s for her 19th century story reflects the ongoing European and colonial interest and the frustration for the aborigines over this controversial woman and her malevolent post trauma anti native propaganda. She was unwittingly influential in that her behaviour and situation shaped Nolan’s style as an artist over a century later, a slight deviation from her infamy I guess, but I get the impression from his painting of her on all fours that he considered her to be an awkward, arrogant person and an enemy to herself first and foremost, certainly a square peg in a round hole.
I thought it relevant that the women with whom she stayed for a few weeks could not understand why she would not listen to their wisdom and guidance and made life hard for herself and I guess that when they plastered her with fish oil and clay it was to protect her white skin from the sun. Could the bones in her matted hair be meant to ridicule her for her foolishness or an attempt to give her status and help her feel welcome or better in some way?
At the same time Sidney Nolan was at work young aborigine children and babies were still being taken from their mothers to be raised as white youngsters with no communication with their real families or clans, this was happening in my living memory, such a short time ago, which is disturbing. However I was amazed to see that just twenty years later, another short time for such a paradigm shift, the Queensland Education Board deemed it important that Aborigine and Torres Strait Island children should help in the telling of their own real life stories and experiences as part of their own cultural heritage to provide a legacy for the future. In every book and gift shop we go to we see collections of their stories including, of course the aborigine creation stories from their Dreamtime.
Rob was familiar with the Greek Café culture from his visit to Agina in the Med and the exhibition was a refreshing change to everything we had seen. Born of the Oyster fishing industry that was in decline the cafes transformed to sell all kinds of European and American food, cheaply and all day long. The ethos of the café owners was ‘hospitality’ and they struck a chord with the native people in their sense of the importance of community. Now that they no longer exist I thought was sad because gone with them is their community mindedness.
I thought you might like the ‘Investigator’ tree exhibit, just the thought that someone from Matthew Flinders crew wrote on the tree that has since escaped the risk of bush fires and of rotting away is an unusual window on history and it reminded me of the one we saw in the little museum near Napier, in New Zealand that escaped the volcanic eruption of Mt Tarawera and grew upwards for years after with a singer sewing machine wedged between two branches, remember? Immortalised forever in a museum.
I included the Mephisto German Tank story for two reasons. What an example of substantial German design and over kill in the construction of the tank and how quickly the Australian Army Battalion captured it and made it their own by punching their names on the front after the original crew abandoned it having driven into a bomb crater. For some reason I found the story amusing.
Then there was Frenchman Nicolas Mole’s version of the Kanak creation stories. He is from Lifou, and we sailed south of that island on our way to New Caledonia, even if we didn’t go there at least we saw a little of their culture. I sat on the cushioned benches in the centre and moved around as the goldfish swam and then the first spirits arrived. It was fascinating and a big, panoramic exhibit.
Finally another artist we have seen before, again when we were in Napier, Yuki Kihara taking on the character of half Samoan, half New Zealander Salome who lived in the nineteenth century. Using her hands and clever lighting and in black period clothes she uses her hands and the medium of film to tell the story of climate change and the destructive effects of the 2009 tsunami, Galu Afi. Moving art made a change to still exhibits. Enjoy.
Hidden stories at the Maritime Museum
I say hidden because the museum building, despite it comprising three floors and extensive galleries is tucked behind the reception and shop and away from the outdoor menagerie of craft and would have been easy to miss if the volunteer staff hadn’t told us it was there. At first we explored the outside because of our love of sea going craft of all shapes and sizes. Take a look at the tiny steel ‘Happy Two’, you wouldn’t get me sailing far in that, there’s small and then there’s too small! The late nineteenth century dry dock itself was impressive in its size and engineering design and the fact it is still fully functional.
Inside there is a vast collection of Naval, commercial, leisure and passenger objects dating back to pre-colonial times and lots of amazing models but I thought it best to focus on one topic for my photos and that was women and sailing. An old Heron dinghy hung from the rafters and we couldn’t tell if it was older or younger than Little Zoonie who is waiting patiently for her new lease of life.
I liked Jessica Watson’s choice of essential articles for her circumnavigation; out of seven items three were soft toys, and chocolate of course, coffee and then fast food noodles and oats. I think the creation of a whole generous section about women’s achievements in sailing is impressive and reflective of everyday life where human endeavour is often successful because of the support from both women and men.
November 6th 2019
For us in Breezy Brizzy it started with a walk over Australia’s longest cantilever bridge, the Story Bridge which must be a delight for all meccano enthusiasts. It is amazing that a bridge opened in 1940 for the volume of traffic at that time can still easily deal with the 97,000 vehicles that cross it each day. Three men died in its construction including poor Arthur McKay who, eighteen months after he saved another man’s life was hit on the head by a piece of equipment, fainted and succumbed to the force of gravity himself.
Remember what I was saying about the old wooden buildings in Brizzy suffering the ravages of time, well there are two examples viewed from the bridge.
Despite the revelations of the cruelty inflicted upon ‘failed’ racehorses in Australia, both in their being slaughtered from very young ages and in the appalling treatment they have been getting at the abattoirs for many years, Melbourne Cup Day went ahead with the usual Ascot Style dressing up on the part of the ladies. I remember a similar scandal in the UK abattoirs a few years back, and who knows if the situation has improved at all, I certainly hope it has.
Young red lipped ladies tottered along painfully on scaffold high heels and were a great source of entertainment to Rob and me as we sucked our iced coffees through straws. The most beautiful, and the ladies who appeared to carry the extreme attire most naturally were the Asian ladies. Set the horses free, this riverside fashion show was enough!
Queen Street Arcade Brisbane
A Naturally Growing Area
I have a new word for you; Facadism. It is the opposite of a Facelift in that the ‘face’ of a building is retained and everything else is transformed with the new and modern and it makes sense in the heart of Brisbane as the Queen Street Mall has over the years incorporated more and more of the streets around it into the pedestrian, traffic free area, without losing all the architectural history. It is referred to as the shopping and lifestyle precinct in the heart of Brisbane but we found a delightful example of the unchanged, tatty round the edges, possibly as old as Victorian building in the form of The Brew Pub.
Other buildings’ faces are preserved forever but this little gem sells itself for being what it is, an old building in the heart of the new. It was like the Old Buttery in Whangarei and the Grainstore in Newcastle NSW and Oakham UK. The delightful juxtaposition to old were the young and very friendly staff, justifiably proud of their subterranean haven of cool peace and refreshment.
Young Henry’s Beer was lovely, a dark ale that looked just like a container of used motor oil hence the name. And the snack of skinny fries with truffle oil and falafels moistened with kumara dip was a tasty treat, cheap and sufficient.
Then, replenished, we set out into the commercial glitz again.
A Cool Swim at Streets Beach on South Bank
We had been looking forward throughout our hot day at the Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary to a cool swim at Streets Beach. We could even choose whether we wanted sandy feet at the beginning and end of the dip real beach style or sand free tootsies. We chose the sand and floated in the deep centre admiring the city skyline like a pair of meerkats in between healthy bursts of breast stroke.
The Plough Inn is a genuine old pub, photos 999-002 are taken from the restored colonial balcony, and it provided a wonderful cool beer and nice views over the water before we wandered back slowly ‘home’ in the pretty, pastel transition between dusk and the night time lights of the city.
I preferred the evenings down there as it was cooler and one could swim well into the night if one chose to, or just relax in the lovely, gently lit gardens at the end of another busy, full day.
A Roof with a View – Friendly Brisbane City Youth Hostel
Nearly there dear readers, this is the last but not least blog about Brisbane. Our visit would not have been nearly as enjoyable or memorable had it not been for our stay at the beautiful BCYH and our numerous chats with the lovely, enthusiastic people staying there.
We shared stories with fellow global travellers including lads from America and the Isle of Man while we were cooling off in the rooftop swimming pool, a plasterer from Norwich while we queued for the single working microwave, a fuse had blown the circuit of the other three and numerous people when we sat at the benches for our evening meals. They are travelling with working visas but the general consensus was they would work only as much as required to finance their travels and adventures. Cool.
On our last morning as the colourful trains creaked and squealed around the building we overheard a lady of about our youthful years, who had just arrived from a 10 day camping trip with lots of youngsters and organised by Perth City Youth Hostel into the country and outback on the west coast and was re-telling her experience. What a wonderful way to see the area we thought, maybe it would suit us when we get there.
But in order to facilitate that it was time to get back to Zoonie and start off once more from Mooloolaba. That morning as we left Brisbane it was sinking into a sulphuric cloud of bush smoke, another reminder of the tragedy unfolding all around Australia from just a few miles away. Luckily we were on a Greyhound bus once more because all the rail journeys north of Brisbane had been cancelled with the rail lines closed.
The windows of the bus were heavily tinted with mesh so I gave up on looking at the countryside and had a snooze and back at Moo we had a nice beer and Turkish bread and cheese lunch before descending on Coles supermarket to victual up before setting off, the very next day!
Lynne and Rastus wave us off
On our way to Coffs
My attempts to sneak Rastus aboard as a castaway failed because he really didn’t want to leave his very contented life with Lynne and who could blame him; so we waved goodbye to them both as we rounded the corner of Minyama Island for the last time and headed back to sea.
We are getting used to the rapid changes in the Australian weather and choosing the best weather window is becoming something of an art form. This weather window promised a nice sailing breeze, followed by light winds and then a 30 knot wind up Zoonie’s stern followed by a 180 degree turnabout to the same velocity from the south and by the time that happened we planned to be tucked up in Coffs Harbour.
Thanks to our friends Susie and Nick we now had details of all the marinas, yacht clubs and VMR Stations (Voluntary Maritime Rescue) and their phone numbers down the east coast so we had made contact with the marina and they allocated us a berth which we were able to locate on our marina plan, thus we knew exactly where we were going.
Later on in the day the sailing breeze started to fail and we were motoring when we came across a fishing boat, with no AIS on and what looked like an anchor out off the bow. It could have been a sea anchor, with a depth of 118 metres is was unlikely to be a sea-bed anchor. We had moved out towards the dramatic ledge you can see in the photo in search of the famous East Coast Current and were benefiting from it to the tune of over two knots.
There were quite a few ships around, nothing like the English Channel, but plenty compared to what we were used to and they appeared to be changing course to avoid us. I was surprised there were no allocated shipping lanes as there are in the channel at home but later Randall pointed out that it was probably because the current moved from east to west and back on an irregular basis so that the ships, like us, moved to where it was for their passage.
Great swathes of mustard scum covered the water and we could not make out whether it was pollen from the land or some miniscule sea flora. Hundreds of small white shoe-shaped cuttle fish shells floated past and I wondered what had killed them at such a young age, perhaps they were a small sized species, the sea is always full with mysteries.
During the night I listened to ABC Radio while I was on watch. The Port Macquarie Koala Hospital had put out a request for $25,000 to buy watering stations to be distributed in the bush so a variety of animals could have a life- saving drink. In view of the unprecedented early and extensive fires and the global coverage of the unfolding tragedy in a very short time they raised over $500,000 despite the bogus websites that creamed a small amount off until they were discovered.
‘Ember Alert’ from sky born sparks and ‘Watch and Act’ are just two of the warnings, bush fire terminology, constantly being heard on the radio. Sometimes people leave it too late to escape and they just have to take cover and hope for the best.
Residents are trained to work out their own Individual Bush Fire Strategy but it must be terrifying to have a fire moving at 20 mph coming towards your home. Some of the fires are so extensive only a natural break or rain or running out of bush will stop them.
The new day dawned to the ever present sulphur grey skies from the wood smoke. The smell was not one of a happy campfire but of death and destruction and it was depressing. Zoonie was covered with tiny black bits of carbon, despite being miles out to sea and goodness knows what effect this acrid, particle filled air will have on the lungs of all air breathing creatures, humans and animals in the long term.
Around us were lots of pods of long, sleek black false killer whales gliding elegantly through the water. Terns and sooty brown shearwater skimmed over the calm of the morning but as the afternoon approached the barometer was falling and the sea was definitely building, the waves getting bigger from the North East and the swell lifting Zoonie higher and pushing her along with the bountiful current helping us in our race against time.
With the new auto-pilot control unit doing its job in the cockpit we felt that was another one ticked off the list but then the fridge compressor started cutting in and out instead of staying on constantly for a few minutes and then turning off, so maintenance and repairs are on-going. The heater experts down in Hobart now have our Ebespacher hot air heater and are amazed at its size. I think they are treating its repair as a challenge. Rob chats with Nick on numerous occasions as the latter updates us on what they are trying currently. It is too old for them to run their usual diagnostic tests on it so they will dismantle it to check for faults.
By mid-afternoon there were lots of white-caps, breaking crests to the waves, and Zoonie was speeding along at nine knots with a poled out genoa and reefed main, wonderful progress, but we still had 60 miles to go to Coffs, it would be a night-time entry but with no sand bar to worry about that should be fine.
Zoonie careered on towards the shore which was somewhere out there in the dark. Then at last, with the clock approaching ten at night we turned between the two headlands, Muttonbird Island on the right and an old quarry hill with a long harbour arm on the left and were amazed to discover the best night time transit ever. Two massive blue neon triangles that Rob had the sheer fun to keep in line, one above the other until the red and green at the marina entrance came in to view. There was absolutely no chance of losing those lights amidst the other shore lights. The harbour was calm for us but in an easterly the water at the entrance can be so disturbed they have to close the harbour.
As we turned right towards our berth a voice from nearby said “Welcome”.