Sydney - We Need to Talk! Vol 2

These two images were taken just a few metres away from each other, one on Metters Street and the other on Bridge Street in Erskineville. They reflect two different conversations about living in Sydney, connected by a common theme about the role of property and speculation and how these are being inserted into daily lives. →

Out the back of the now-named Surry Hills Shopping Village there are a couple of benches, next to some post office boxes, two bike racks and a big rubbish bin. At any one time, folks and their dogs rest before making the walk across the (perilous!) car park and up through Redfern, they wait for friends or family to finish their shopping, and, often, a foursome of old Greek men sit, debate and gesture, sharing a box of icecreams from Coles. There is always a diverse collective using these benches to wait, rest, observe and share. →

An anchor, a bridge

Alistair Sisson

On a concrete block in the heart of the inner-south Sydney neighbourhood of Waterloo sits a ship’s anchor. On all sides, the anchor is surrounded by the lawns, gardens and modernist concrete apartment towers of the Waterloo estate. Nearly four kilometres from the nearest body of water, the anchor alone is hardly self-explanatory, but a short walk in any direction begins to reveal what it represents. Buildings named Marton, Banks, Solander and Cook, and Matavai and Turanga. The interiors of these latter, tallest two are decorated with fading scenes of ocean voyages and island expeditions, encounters between white sailors and native peoples. →

 

My daily walk to the Kings Cross train station takes me past old Victorian terraces variously turned into back packer hostels, cafes, hotels and private residences. The street is lined with plane trees, which are home to various birds and offer necessary shade during summer. As I am passing houses and lodgings for humans, my walk down Victoria street also takes me past the dwellings birds and other wildlife which shelter in the trees. One of the most well known residents of these trees are the sulphur crested cockatoos, which according to the strata laws in my building, I am not allowed to feed. The birds are known for chewing the seals around windows on buildings and cars. They also have a penchant for antennas on cars. →

What’s behind It?

Wendy Murray

 

I missed Urban Crew this past Tuesday. We were all supposed to write our essays together, but I was having a bad day, & clean forgot what day of the week it was.

So, I’ve opted for a different approach to get this writing finished on time. I thought I would put myself in the location, here on the intersection of Darlinghurst and Kings Cross Road, it might be easier to write. Because I had moved to L.A. last year, I feel a little disconnected to the city I spent 18 years living in. So – here I am – sitting opposite the famous Kings Cross coke sign. →

Dear Barangaroo

Dallas Rogers and Chris Gibson

 

Dear Barangaroo (the place, not the person[1]),

 There’s been a lot of talk about you lately. The casino-hotel tower is nearly finished, but doubts grow over whether Crown is fit to hold a gaming license. And after COVID-19, it’s questionable whether the promised Chinese high-rollers that justified the development will eventuate. Everywhere you go in Sydney, it seems, you can see the sleek tower looming over the horizon. It’s as if the developers knew this would be so, choosing the exact spot on your shore to maximise its visibility. How did this come to pass?

Barangaroo, it’s time we had a talk: there are things about your past we must discuss. →

Camperdown Memorial Rest Park is a social hub of Newtown and Camperdown. The playground overflows with children after the three o’clock bell of Australia Street Primary. Dogs sprint across the park fetching balls or greeting new friends. Groups gather to celebrate birthdays, promotions, final exams, or just sunny Sundays. Couples meet for catch-ups or dates. The ever-growing team of delivery cyclists loiter, waiting for their next job. Bordering most of this are walls, and on these walls are layers of graffiti and street art. →

When I was four, my parents and I moved from a rented apartment in Rose Bay to a newly built house in Hornsby Heights, in the northern suburbs of Sydney. Like hundreds of other families who came to settle in that area, my parents had purchased the land and house from developers, after the land was released for residential development by the Land Commission of NSW (Landcom). Our little cul-de-sac was about 400 metres away from the boundary where suburbia met the bush – this particular land release stuck to the top of a ridge extending between two creek valleys that were left undeveloped. →

Bay Street Depot

Elizabeth Duncan

 

The Bay Street Depot has been owned and run by the City of Sydney since the early 1900’s. Since this time, the site has been used to manage waste, allowing the city to function without blockage by its own debris. The depot has also long been a site of shelter and storage for the plant that enables and extends the capacities of human labour to pick up and collect the city’s debris. →

I hardly go to Sydney Park anymore, but it is extremely popular with locals in the part of inner south Sydney that I live. It is among the largest green spaces in the area, surrounded by formerly industrial and working-class suburbs of St Peters, Newtown, Marrickville and Alexandria, which have been gentrifying for a couple of decades. If you took a stroll there on a weekend you will see families with children, local dog walkers in their droves, and you might catch the park run if you are up early enough. →

About a park: strange encounters

Pratichi Chatterjee