Projects

(This was written ages ago but it's not until now that I've had a chance to transfer it from my laptop to a computer at an internet cafe. More stories to come...)

These Northerners are quite proud of their city, aren’t they? The Manchester folk that spoke to us after our opening night at the Lowry were insistent that I check out the centre of town, after I had dared to suggest that I didn’t have the energy to be a tourist as London had tired me out. I didn’t need to see another old building or some slanting wall of glass or whatever. Besides, there was enough Modern going on around Salford Quays where we were staying and performing, with the colourful The Lowry and the oblique curves of Libeskind’s Imperial War Museum across the water. My favourites were the NV Buildings, apartments that seemed to be bending in the wind. But, apart from that, the Quays were as desolate as Homebush, not quite on the same scale but similarly dearth of any form of life. Planned to death. There’s a ghostly outlet mall and cinema complex, a few restaurants, but nothing that would actually sustain any kind of community.

Manchester was described to me as the “cradle of the Industrial Revolution” and, without the governmental and cultural significance that London had through its history, it looked very mediocre indeed. Old factory buildings are rarely architectural masterpieces. Part of my disappointment was that, being described as England’s second city, I was expecting a lot more. Melbourne is Australia’s second city. Los Angeles (or Chigago?) is America’s second city. Despite its significant contribution to the UK music scene, Manchester seems to define itself in terms of London, albeit in its staunch declaration that it is able to “look London in the eye and show it how it’s done” (or something like that, I forget how the quote goes). It’s a city that has an inferiority complex, that it’s constantly trying to prove itself. I only had a few hours on our last performance day to check out Manchester and places like Oldham Street (and, reportedly, Affleck Palace) showed some promise of an alternative, stand-alone identity from the long shadow of that great southern city. But further wanderings up through Arndale and Deansgate and Cathedral destroyed all that potential, covered it up with concrete, slabs of grass and your standard fare of high street fashion labels that you can get along London’s Oxford Street. I also came across the Urbis, which tried so very hard to convince me that, yes! Manchester is a vibrant and modern city. The more it tried, the less I was convinced. The music: yes. Everything else: no.

On the plus side, the Mancunians seem to be much friendlier than their World-City counterparts down south, and they were much more open to what we had to offer (well, the few people that did bother to turn up!). Also, to get some perspective on the matter, I guess I was mistaken in my assumption that the city was bigger that it is; for a city of less than half a million, I guess it’s doing pretty well for itself. And I do tend to reduce my evaluations of cities in terms of visual elements, the available shopping options, and quality of expresso.

Tags: Manchester

I haven't actually taken very many pictures of London. It's simply too spectacular and full of sights that there doesn't seem to be enough time to stand around and compose pictures. That and I didn't really want to exhaust myself being a tourist when there's a job to do. When I get back from Aldeburgh I can devote more of my energy sight-seeing.

Lloyd's has to be one of my favourite buildings on the planet. To me, this is just a blatant statement: "Money Factory". How appropriate. It's such an intriguing sight, especially down a street full of sandstone. That being said, London also has more than it's fair share of modern architecture (not to mention the Gherkin just around the corner) and the urban landscape seems to be in a constant state of renovation and construction.

St Paul's is also quite fascinating. It's on such a huge scale and yet it's so hidden by the surrounding buildings, it's one hundred plus metre dome playing peek-a-boo with the pedestrians.

Listen: Start the Dance 3
Read more about it here.

Its not all sandstone in our second oldest city!

I didn't end up venturing far from the centre of town. On the morning of our departure I headed down to the Salamanca Markets to get two more balls of wool for my fluffy scarf; in the end my total spending from three visits to the Tasmanian Woollen Co was $52, which I guess isn't too bad considering the amount of wool I ended up with. The real bargain was the rather large hank of wool that still smells of sheep for $15. I don't know what I'm going to make out of it. There wasn't much happening at the markets but I guess everyone's still hibernating. My casual meandering meant that I got back to the hotel a bit late for our call to the airport; I don't know there must be something in the clean fresh air that slows you down...

But a few hours later and a couple of coffees at lb just off Chapel Street and I was back in big-city mode, impatiently power-walking past the big-label shoppers.

Tags: Hobart, Photos, Salamanca, wool.

It was a bitch getting to the airport. I had to drop my car off at PT's place again but had to pick stuff up along the way which took longer than expected. Made it with forty minutes to spare, not before witnessing the aftermath of an accident where a truck's trailer had toppled over. At the very least I made the flight, unlike some ;) but when we got to Hobart I realised that I had left my flexy bowl (tupperware) at home, my breakfast bowl. Bugger. Also left my razors at home, too.

Anyway, Hobart really is quite lovely. The people here have been so nice, recognising that we're Bangarra and wishing us luck (break a leg, which really isn't the most appropriate thing to say to a dancer but the sentiment was appreciated). Its not even that cold here; Canberra was worse. Anyway, on the first night I wandered down to Salamanca Place and Battery Point via the piers. There are some very cute looking shops, not least Tasmanian Woollen Co, but I also want to check out Astrolabe and Klektik. And the fairy lights on the trees are delightful. Oh how quaint! After wandering around taking random photos I stopped by Fish Frenzy to find some of the Bangarra mob finishing up dinner.

We had rehearsals at St Michael's Collegiate, a school well-decked out for the performing arts, before heading off to Theatre Royal for spacing. Australia's oldest working theatre, like the rest of the place it was small but oh so cute! Its a bit of a squeeze onstage but at the very least we're not flying rings, light boxes and sheets of corrugated iron in and out, and we're not stringing the place up with elastics and dancing under thick mats and balancing tins on our heads whilst chucking bags of flour across the stage...

Technorati Tags: Dance, Bangarra, Spirit, Hobart, Travel, Tasmania

Filatura di Crosa, Cambridge. Do you have any? Shade 4 Lot 20.

No. She took my number down and promised to get her manager to look in the store room and call me back by Friday. Bugger. If i'd have known that this crochetting business was going to be so much of a hassle I may not have taken it up. In Sydney, JPB took the wool label to the Tapestry shop on York Street to no avail. At the very least down here at the Tasmanian Woollen Co they have it albeit in a different colour. Finally I might be able to get my green scarf finished.

She joked about the "manly pursuit of crochetting" and, considering I already belong to an exclusive group of enlightened males, those kind of comment even meant in a negative way rolls off me like water off a duck's back. But then she goes on to tell me that knitting was started by men anyway, sailors stuck below deck needing warm clothing and something to pass the time. Seems reasonable, really - men are always at the forefront. Knitting and crochetting is basically glorified knot-tying and it is the most red-blooded of men that are good at that, especially the sailing types that like to make knots in their ropes.

So everyone stop knocking me when I get excited about wool stores. Its so appropriate that I'm staying in an old converted woolstore.

Tags: Crochet

I was enjoying a very late breakfast at the Cairns Art Gallery when behind me I heard that familiar vocal inflection that is the calling card of you run-of-the-mill poofter. It was no surprise; Cairns is by far the gayest place we've visited on this tour. Though Darwin, Canberra and Townsville also have gay venues (though, in Darwin's case, gay friendly, the local poofter bar being overrun by straights out for a more alternative night out when I went out) the gays here seem more visible, if not quite as out as Oxford Street. Not that I'm necessarily interested in a place just because of the visibility of its queens, it's just an observation.

A totally unrelated observation is that Cairns seems to be quite a body-conscious kind of place. There's more of a display of flesh and half-nakedness than other places that we've visited. And people here tend to scrub up better than your average Northern Australian Joe.

Anyway, on this totally lazy Sunday off, I got up at lunchtime, caught the bus to town and wandered around for a bit. It was overcast, a contrast to the traditional view of this place as a sunny tropical tourist town, but pleasantly mild. The tide was out and the bay was stripped back to reveal the muddy bog that it is. The prevalence of palm trees and a mountainous backdrop reminds me of Maui, the large hotel chains of the Esplanade are more like O'ahu though not quite as Honolulu chaotic. It is completely unlike its dusty fraternal twin Townsville just down the road, which I think I prefer more as a place to visit; Cairns is just a bit too tourist-oriented for me to like very much. Still, it's good enough for a few piccies!

Technorati Tags: Queensland, Cairns, Gay, Photos

I was almost bitten to death by mozzies for this panorama!

This is the Fitzroy River, the second largest river in the country. It's not the prettiest of views but, at sunset, the shadows hide much of the details.

Tags: Rockhampton, Fitzroy River, Queensland, Photos, Panorama, River.

A couple of doors down, TG was teaching SP. Across the lawn YB, having already sent E on her way, was busy learning how to play her harmonica. There was a spare hook and ball of wool lying around so I snatched them up and had a go. I had learnt how to do it years ago and after going through a quick refresher course, I was on my way.

First a loop. Then hook and pull. Hook and pull...

And from that first starting chain I began to crochet, though quite clumsily. Wasn't too sure what I was going to make, I just wanted to get the hang of it. Its funny how a relatively simple procedure can be so mesmerising: insert, hook and pull... but with one dancer in my room utilising the in-room broadband on my computer and random people still hanging around from the barbecue just outside my open door, the sound of harmonicas and televisions I was intensely focused on the task. My hands were hurting because I was still trying to get a grip on the technique and holding alot of tension in my fingers. But soon I had a few lines of crochet, neat and tidy. It was time to work out what I was actually doing. The starting chain wasn't very long but, with time, I could have made an thin scarf. But the wool wasn't mine and, besides, I don't think I'd have the patience. YB suggested I make an iPod sock; all I had to do was crochet a shorter rectangle and stitch them together. And so it became an iPod sock. The second rectangle ended up being a bit wonky but, oh well, not a bad start...

Technorati Tags: crochet, iPod, iPod sock