“I could be the Tin Tin of Darlinghurst”

today I walked around kings cross and took pictures of buildings and the backs of peoples’ heads, and wondered why I felt so tense, was it the ‘vibe’ of the area, I don’t know

emailed notes to self:

“Outside bars: old men rolling their own cigarettes. They scratch their stubble, watch you. Sounds of construction, trucks bringing in deliveries, staff constantly cleaning out shop fronts. The faint reek of piss even after weeks of rain.

Sunshine but no trust.

Crazies talking to themselves as they walk past holding leaky cups of milk, barefoot, ‘it’s only ten dollars’ she whines to herself. Give her a shower and she could be an eastern suburbs matron.

Hip young kids walking around: ‘my god the smells’ they say”

and worked my way towards watsons bay but the bridge stretching over the freeway and a sense of ‘too far!’ defeated me, something about respect and shooting people without permission made me reconsider whatever angle I was aiming for with this project.

so instead I sat on a bench across from a church where homeless people slept on its steps, and wrote about light and sound and the smell of charity

how people are rude but the moment they see the camera in your hands their whole demeanour changes, as if it invests a weird authority in you, and they want to talk to you (threaten you) (give you free stuff) and all I can think is ‘what is going on, I’m a scruffy student who can’t even take a decent picture, I’m too busy wondering about what things mean to properly shoot what’s actually there’

walking is great when you need to organise your thoughts. the northwest is boring. in the eastern suburbs I can sense the remnants of a violent history. truth is: give me the inner west any day.