Adrienne Rewi Online

All that Remains

noreply@blogger.com (Adrienne Rewi) — Sun, 29 Jan 2012 02:56:00 +0000

Back in the early days of this blog, I used to feature a church every Sunday - in the interests of church architecture rather than religion. I thought of that this morning and it occurred to me that many of the churches I've photographed in Christchurch over the last few years, no longer exist thanks to the insistent and never-ending earthquakes.

As I look through my files of earthquake images, now numbering in the thousands - I'm so grateful that I have a good record of many of the churches that have been wiped off the face of the earth in subsequent demolitions. I've decided to show a few of the earthquake-damaged churches here - just as a reminder of the cultural heritage we've lost. I haven't labelled the individual churches and it's important to note that some of those featured here have gone in their entirety, while others have been structurally strengthened with a view to restoration and rebuilding once the shaking has stopped. These images go as far back as September 2010 and in some cases, things have changed considerably since then - to the point where all bricks and mortar have vanished.

And this of course, is just the tip of the iceberg. Many more of the city's churches were demolished before I had the chance to photograph them.

Broken Histories - Christchurch Earthquake

noreply@blogger.com (Adrienne Rewi) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 02:00:00 +0000

Much has been written about the Christchurch earthquakes - about the deaths, the losses, the ruin of heritage buildings and the long-lasting effects on the city and its residents' welfare. Not a lot has been written about the city's historic cemeteries.

I've always had a soft spot for cemeteries. They have featured in my creative works - paintings, photography, short fiction - over many years and I never tire of wandering the quiet rows of headstones, wondering about the lives of those gone by and those they have left behind. For me, it's a time to think about life and death and purpose, a time to think about the intricate layers of lives that all meant something to someone, somewhere.

So coming face-to-face with the cemetery destruction wrought by the thousands of earthquakes that have toppled much of our city over the last 16 months, was a shock. I have visited four cemeteries over the last two days - Kaiapoi, Selwyn Street, Bromley and Barbadoes Street. It's hard to comprehend the damage that all four have suffered and it's sad to realise that much of the damage will never be repaired. The costs, afterall, of all that smashed marble, of all that carved stone, must be formidable.

It didn't matter how long I stood among all those broken histories, I couldn't quite grasp the force of the phenomenon responsible. I've lived through most of the earthquakes that have struck Christchurch. I've felt their power. Yet standing beside a huge, snapped off obelisk, now speared directly into the ground; or the hefty slabs of marble thrown to the ground like small toys, gave me a whole new appreciation for their strength. Irrational perhaps, given that the earthquakes have crashed whole buildings to the ground; but in my head, cemeteries and their solid memorials are supposed to be permanent. They're suppose to carry the weight of generations and stand tall to remind us of our personal histories in small, intimate, meaningful and momentous ways.

I'm not a religious person but I do have great respect for many of the physical 'trappings' of religion - the church architecture, the serenity of space, a sense of the spiritual, the icons, the art. So to see cemetery angels snapped off their bases and thrown to the ground with broken arms was disconcerting. It made me think especially, of children, gone and their mothers, bereft. It lent a quiet disharmony to the hot midday air and I wondered if the wounds in the memorials have re-opened the wounds for relatives living on. It all seemed such a sad and unnecessary assault on everything that makes us human.

There is subsidance - some graves collapsing in, some rising out of the ground. There are tombs cracked and broken. There are holes in the ground, and graves covered in sand and clinging liquefaction. Headstones stand in rows, out of kilter, leaning toward each other, as if for comfort and support. Others have crashed off their bases, piercing the concrete tombs they were set to mark. Obelisks big and small have slammed to the ground, breaking trees as they go and falling, nose-first, into gardens of roses and lavender.

Shards of broken headstones, shattered flowers and urns and broken tiles are spread across the ground. Some have been gathered up by passers-by or family perhaps, and have been laid in orderly little rows around the rim of the graves. Hazard tape still marks standing stones considered a danger in future quakes. And through it all, the bees still busy themselves on the lavender, their little pollen sacs filled to bursting, as they flit among the ruins.

It's easy to brush off all this in the pressure of living through the ongoing mayhem of the Christchurch earthquakes. But sometimes it's important to stop and look and listen. We're constantly exposed to noise in this post-earthquake environment - to the clambering political voices, to hammering out of ideas and opinions - but are we taking the time to listen to history?

"In time, I hope and believe the anguish with you will be covered over. That is the only way to express it. It is like new skin covering a wound. That doesn't mean that one forgets the people who have gone away."

Edith Sitwell. From Selected Letters 1916-1964.

Dogs on a Window - An Artist's View

noreply@blogger.com (Adrienne Rewi) — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 13:24:00 +0000

The Christchurch earthquakes have affected the city's residents in multiple ways. I've talked to many people about an inability to focus on work and a dearth of inspiration. Others have been swamped with creative ideas, others have changed course completely. All that of course, is particularly apt within the artist community. Artists I've spoken with in the last sixteen months have all found different ways of coping with the unreliable earth and its impacts on their normal creative routines.

This featured set of drawings is courtesy of one of New Zealand's best known and most highly regarded printmakers, Barry Cleavin, who, for a spell, changed tack completely - away from his plates and his usual cocktauil of etching acids in face of a shaking world, to the safety of his sketchbook and the whimsy of a family dog called Milo.

Recently, Cleavin was invited to make his mark on the windows of Ng Gallery, as part of their celebratory event to announce that they were once again 'a going concern' after the strengthening of their building and re-opened access to the rear of their premises. The drawings were fashioned in felt marker pens. If the viewer moved about the images, the dog ( Mr Milo G, a Manchester Terrier, of Dunedin), occupies different parts of the earthquake damaged vista on the Red Zone side of the boutique gallery.

"So. Milo climbs down the building, jumps buildings and he and his shadow use the broken parts of the city as a playground."

It's a delightful collection and already, parts of the damaged city shown beyond the windows - the Grand Chancellor Hotel for instance - have been (or are being) consigned to history. And when Milo finally comes up from Dunedin to visit, much of what he could see from his window vantage point, will be completely gone.

Downed by an Earthquake & Other Random Photos

noreply@blogger.com (Adrienne Rewi) — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 19:12:00 +0000

A short parade of photos from the Christchurch earthquake zone.

I tend to photograph in themes but every so often I like to gather up the oddments, the photos that seemed great at the time, that fall between the cracks of the assorted subject lines that I focus on.

Here are a few.

A Ballantynes' foundation stone dislodged by successive earthquakes

Now a lonely reminder in the middle of a 'field' of rubble.

I wonder what Eliza White would think if she came back today?

When machinery becomes art.

Cranes dismantling the apartment building next to Christchurch Art Gallery, merge with Graham Bennett's "Reasons for Voyaging" - among which the earthquakes must now be listed.

The Hotel Grand Chancellor (right) - a reluctant 'celebrity' being brought down to size.

It's now equal in stature with the Holiday Inn (left).

One of the far-from-blank walls that now 'decorate' the city.

I'm very keen on all these newly exposed walls and their mix-and-match materials, their crooked patches, their uneven lines.

A long-standing plea (now also on a lean) that appears to be falling on deaf ears.

Although most of the upper end of High Street *is* currently still standing, I get the feeling there are no guarantees it will last the distance.

I always like a good puddle shot and this one somehow captures the sense of abandonment and desolation that prevails in inner city Christchurch right now.

Wired!

A state that most of us in Christchurch are quite familiar with - at all levels!

A City Walk - Christchurch

noreply@blogger.com (Adrienne Rewi) — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 13:41:00 +0000

I went out biking on Sunday morning - early, before most people were awake - to get another overview of the city centre and to see what's been happening since I was last in there a few weeks ago. I cycled around all the usual spots (including the Catholic Basillica, above), amazed at how quickly things have moved on. Where, just weeks ago, there were ruins and demolitions, there are now orderly, fenced-off carparks or completely blank sections. You'd never know a building had been there. In fact, sometimes I have to pinch myself to remember what *was* there and as soon as I'm home, I feel a need to flick back through my photographic files to see things as they used to be, to reassure myself that my memory is not playing tricks.

As quiet as the city was, I wasn't the only one out with a camera and this shot of someone photographing the large Christmas bow on the Arts Centre reinforcing, was too good to miss.

I was heartened to see that Latimer Square is now open to the public again and the lawns have been shaved of almost a year's worth of long grass. The same can't be said of the banks of the Avon on Oxford Terrace, along The Strip. I was much taken by the early morning sunlight catching at this street lamp, the abandoned park bench and the overgrown lawns.

I stood a long time in front of the Basillica, thinking how lucky I was to have a record of the cathedral's magnificent, unscathed interior, taken long before we even thought about earthquakes. I chatted with a guy from a local camera club, who visits the cathedral every weekend to take photographs of its unravelling history. I picked out this tiny, stained glass detail - is it The Last Supper? (Which is something of a loaded question now).

And the poor old, wonky Grand Chancellor Hotel, now a bony skeleton, a shadow of its former (ugly) self. Almost entirely stripped, it has been reduced to the same height as the Holiday Inn nearby. And in the silent, Sunday air, only the relentless,, shuddering noise of the jackhammers, hard at work bringing it down to the next level.

Three Photos from an Earthquake Zone

noreply@blogger.com (Adrienne Rewi) — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 21:23:00 +0000

Lichfield Street, Central Christchurch

Old Christchurch City Council Building with Patched Windows

Shipping containers bolstering the Catholic Basillica

On the End of a Shovel - Again!

noreply@blogger.com (Adrienne Rewi) — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 14:00:00 +0000

I last had serious liquefaction at my house back in June 2011. It's now long enough ago to be all but a very unpleasant memory. That was the second time my shared driveway, my entire garden, all neighbouring properties and our street cloggged up with the hideous slimy, wet, grey mud that is wet liquefaction - the mucky sidekick to the Christchurch earthquakes that becomes heavy sand when dry and then an irritating dry dust that settles on, and in, everything. When the December 23 quakes struck I was in Australia and very relieved to hear that only a small patch of liquefaction had come up in my driveway. Further east, Christchurch residents weren't so lucky.

I was out prowling with my camera on Wednesday - as I'm wont to do - and when I turned into Waygreen Avenue in North New Brighton, I wanted to cry on behalf of the residents - those who still remain living there at least. As in other parts of the Red Zone, many have abandoned the places they once called home.

The place was silent, wet, slushy and the few people I did see had the long-suffering look of people who have had enough. One man came out of his gate and fiddled with the rubbish bins. I got the feeling he was checking me out, making sure I wasn't 'casing the joint' for some burglary I might be planning at a later date. I waved; he ignored me.

This is the third or fourth time some of them have suffered through liquefaction - and as you can see, it's not pretty when it clogs driveways, buries garden walls and makes roads and pathways impassable. A woman came out of one house munching on an apple. She stared vacantly up and down the street, as if wondering where everyone had gone. Then she walked up the footpath, stopping to stare in at each of the empty, mud-ridden houses she came to.

When I was in Wellington in November and then Auckland in December, I was stunned by the number of people I spoke to about the earthquakes who thought Christchurch was "getting better." I can understand their impression given that mainstream media tends to focus on the CBD and recently, the opening of a container mall in central city. But trust me, I am interviewing earthquake 'victims' regularly and I can say quite categorically, that Christchurch is a long way off "better."

Sadly, even people on the far-less affected west side of Christchurch have no idea of what life is actually like for many in the eastern suburbs. They may have seen images on television in the wake of September 2010 and February 2011, but most have not set foot in the eastern suburbs to see for themselves. And they probably have no idea that December 23, 2011 triggered another messy deluge in the east and that roads are often so ruptured, they're tough to drive on. I can't begin to describe the toll all that takes on you month after month after month - 16 months in fact.

In a way, I understand that too. It's been a tough tough time for Christchurch people and when you finally get on top of crap like liquefaction, you really don''t *want* to think about it - at all. But I do think it's important, no matter how bored we are by earthquake news, that we keep things in perspective, that we remember that there are still households battling with Portaloos, flooded and broken streets, deep layers of muck, ruined houses and all the trials and tribulations that come with being in a designated residential red zone.

Around the corner in Wattle Avenue, a man came out of his house and fed the birds on his front lawn. He nodded and waved. I waved back. I walked the street then and a man pulling out of his driveway opened his car window. "It's a bit depressing isn't it," he said.

I didn't argue.

Two more chaps were sitting on their muddy deck, surrounded by half dug-out layers of filthy liquefaction, having a morning cuppa. I poked my head through their gate and offered them my condolences. They laughed but I could tell they were wishing for a different life in that moment.

Across the street, I baled up another fellow leaning on a shovel outside his house.

"Which department are you with," he asked suspiciously as I approached.

"It's worse than that," I said. "I'm a journalist." He laughed and called off his three German Shepherd dogs and we chatted for almost an hour.

"I've given up," he said. "This shit is all through my house, stuck in my carpet. Wet, dry, there's no getting away from it. I've had it three times now and each time I've had to climb the neighbour's fence to get into my own section. The driveway is impassable, the mud up to my knees. I've lived in this area since I was kid and this place, where all these houses are - it used to be a swamp. Now look, it's as good as a swamp again. It's enough to break your soul."

Locksley Avenue - A Portrait of a Street

noreply@blogger.com (Adrienne Rewi) — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 23:13:00 +0000

It’s January 2nd, 2012 and as I write this at 11am, there have already been close to a dozen aftershocks, the largest, mag.5.5 at around 5.45am. This is not what most Cantabrians would have wanted after the last 15 months. Most were hoping for a fresh, much more stable start.

But as I lay awake in bed at 6am, I was just grateful to have a bed and house – albeit a cracked and creaking one – to lie in. Many Cantabrians have lost all that – a fact that was once again brought home to me yesterday, when I went for an early morning bike ride along Locksley Avenue, which runs along the banks of the Avon River in the Christchurch suburb of Dallington. I cycled the length of the street. These are the photographs I took on New Year’s Day.

I’ve seen many abandoned houses over the last few months but cycling down Locksley Avenue - in the heart of the Red Zone residential area - was an eye-opener. House after house after house has been abandoned. Of the dozens I passed, there were perhaps six that still appeared to be lived in. The rest sit empty, with once neatly mown lawns now long and shaggy, tickling the windowsills.

White picket fences are ‘losing ground’ against the weeds, sweet lavender bushes and climbing roses have reverted to wild, uncontrollable behaviour and hydrangeas and sweet peas have taken command of once quiet, orderly garden corners. One or two abandoned homes sport recently mown lawns – it’s as if the owners can’t let go, can’t watch as the homes they’ve owned, sometimes for decades, sink further and further into a state of neglect and dishevelment.

Animal tracks run through the long grass of front lawns, Portaloos sit dormant on the street and driveways and pathways are ruptured by giant cracks and pitted with fresh mounds of liquefaction.

Gulls screech into the lonely air and disconnected power lines sag across the abandoned properties. Baby starlings chatter in ‘luxury nests’ made by winged parents eager to maximise the opportunities afforded by abandoned real estate and an absence of humans. It’s a salutary reminder of just how fast Mother Nature reclaims her spoils if we happen to turn our backs for too long.

There are houses on a lean, rooms tilting at odd angles. Others have sunk into the once trusty soil. Garden walls have fallen, windows are broken and front doors swing, open and askew. Tarpaulins flap in the wind and sheets of plywood protect interiors from the elements.

It’s those anonymous plywood ‘faces’ I find the most disconcerting. It's as if the 'soul of the house' has been erased, its history overwritten. Some have been marked with numbers – the number of the property I assume; a number that once meant home. A number that now reads as ‘statistic.’ I often speak of my own home in terms of its number – “my little old 149 is still standing tall,” I might say. It’s a term of endearment for the old ruin I call home. It may not be perfect – and let’s be honest, it was a work in progress even before the earthquakes – but it is my safe haven, my retreat, my security. The people of Locksley Avenue no longer have that.

And Locksley Avenue is just one street among hundreds in Christchurch where this same scenario is playing out right now. It’s a sobering thought - a reminder that no matter how annoying the aftershocks may be, most of us have much to be grateful for.

Seeing Out a Dramatic Year

noreply@blogger.com (Adrienne Rewi) — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 04:49:00 +0000

The Old Christchurch City Council Building, Tuam Street.

In August, I went away to Australia for two months to escape the earthquakes and their all-pervading intrusion into my life. When I got home, everyone reported there had hardly been any shakes; but on my first night home there was a 5.5 mag after shock. I was so dazed and removed I never even rose from the sofa. And since then, there has barely been a tremor we’ve felt. Like many people here, I thought the quakes were all over.

Cnr High & Tuam Streets

On December 22, I left Christchurch bound for Australia again and on December 23, the city was hit by a cluster of nasty aftershocks that once again set everyone on edge. I was only away a week and since I’ve been home, there have been several aftershocks over 4 magnitude and suddenly I’m carrying my cellphone from room to room again and making sure there are torches in handy places each night – just in case. And I’ve moved chairs away from the dining table so I can slide quickly beneath if I need to.

Tuam Street - The west side of McKenzie & Willis Building.

To some, that may seem a little melodramatic; to anyone living in Christchurch, it is bound to make sense – if only because very little else does. Every time we have relaxed our guard in the last year, we’ve been bombarded with aftershocks all over again. From Boxing Day 2010 to February 22, 2011 and June 13, 2011 – and now December 23, 2011 – we’ve all assumed that the decrease in aftershock activity has been the beginning of a very welcome end. We’ve all been proven wrong.

Cnr Manchester & Welles Streets.

I hardly know what to say about earthquakes anymore – other than the fact that they are now so intrinsically woven into my everyday life, across a wide range of levels, that I might be surprised if they *did* stop. From the everyday irritations of mangled roads and lingering liquefaction dust, to cracked walls, sloping floors, broken chimneys, a humped driveway, broken footpaths & drains and a large window hanging in place by good luck rather than much else, it’s all ‘just what we have to put up with.’

The rear of High Street

When I was in Australia, everyone told me I should leave Christchurch. “Move to Australia,” they said. “Great idea,” I replied, “But it’s not as easy as that.” For one thing, there’s the small matter of not being able to sell your house until you have a sheet of costings from EQC. Fifteen months on from September 2010 – and through all subsequent aftershocks and new claims – I’m still waiting for that. And like many here in Christchurch, I’ve now become so disheartened by the lack of progress in this area, that I don’t even care anymore. I just get on with enjoying life. Sometimes I momentarily feel a sense of hopelessness but I recover quickly. I see no point in wasting creative moments stressing over something I cannot control. I suppose one day, somewhere in the future, I might have an almost-new house (or a completely new one if this one is demolished); but for now that seems about as likely as winning Lotto.

Corner Manchester & Welles Streets

In some strange way though, I’m happy to be a part of it all. I’m not like many others, claiming that 2011 has been a bitch of a year. For me it has been a fantastic year. It has been a year of enormous challenges – physical, mental, emotional – and I think I have become a better and more relaxed person as a result of it all. I’ve become a much better photographer too (in my own eyes anyway), because there’s seldom been a day in the last year, that I haven’t been out and about recording this earthquake mayhem at some level.

Corner Tuam & High Streets

As sad as it has been to see so much of Christchurch reduced to rubble and a vast acreage of broken homes and now-empty, overgrown sections, it has also been a huge inspiration to me. I’ve found enormous beauty in it all. There’s been irony and humour, the poignant and the dramatic. The fantastic, the unexpected, the ever-changing, the slow glimpses of renewal and determination are nowhere so exemplified as in Christchurch.

St Asaph Street

The Old Post Office, Cnr Brougham & Colombo Streets

The earthquakes have been brutal, the aftermath dirty, disconcerting, disconnecting and at times, terrifying but in coming to grips with all of that, I have given up silly, unrealistic expectations and I have relaxed into a changed reality. It’s not a reality I have any hope of changing but it is a reality that I hope will continue to change me.

Cnr Manchester &Welles Streets

I like the unpredictability of that. I like waking up each day wondering what will happen next. I like seeing the world around me shift and sway – not in those specific moments of a large aftershock I hasten to add; but in the day-to-day passing of time. I like that I have had the opportunity to experience #eqnz and I look forward to 2012 and whatever it may bring. I’m certainly ready for just about anything this unpredictable world can throw at me.

Christmas in an Earthquake Zone

noreply@blogger.com (Adrienne Rewi) — Tue, 13 Dec 2011 14:01:00 +0000

It's the Christmas season and I take it I'm supposed to feel festive and jolly.

I like to think I feel that way most of the time - even living in a city battered by earthquakes and regardless of Christmas. Sure, there are days when the realities get you down - when you're sick of driving your car into huge potholes, or over popped-up manholes; when you're tired of having to travel across town negotiating endless detours, road works, road cones and puddles; and when the dust and crap, the heavy lorries and the metallic clawing of diggers and cranes sends shivers down your spine. But overall, I feel pretty fortunate to have survived 2010 and 2011.

But there are thousands of others in Christchurch who will have a miserable time over Christmas this year. They may have lost family, their houses, their businesses, their futures - or, if they live on the Sumner cliffs, may be about to.

They may be living beside huge road construction zones like this monstrosity on Woodham Road.

A situation that's unlikely to change for many weeks to come.

They may be like this antique dealer, contemplating valuable stock reduced to rubble in the ruins of a city store, unable to get in to retrieve anything, unable to move forward until they've waded through harrowing and frustrating bureaucracy - a process that will drive them to the point of despair in its own right.

Or this Linwood firearms dealer, who has sealed up his shop (having removed the firearms and left a sign to that affect) and has tried to make someone else's day brighter by offering them free bricks from his rubble.

Or like these Bexley homeowners, they may have had to send an urgent message to the North Pole, enlightening Santa to their plight and begging him not to try climbing down their supported but still unstable chimney. (Children all across Christchurch are likely to be frettiing about the loss of their chimneys and how Santa will access their homes for present delivery).

Or worse, perhaps they no longer have a home at all. Perhaps it's lying in a state of ruin like this Bexley home - its front torn asunder and all their possessions broken and exposed to the world; their gardens now abandoned and over-grown.

And there will be many Christchurch people who will not be able to go to Christmas services at their local church. If they were once members of the Avonside Holy Trinity congregation, this is all they'll find on the site of their once beautiful Victorian Gothic church - a pile of broken tiles, some rescued lumps of masonry and this small box of lichen-covered roof slates - all set on one side of a huge, now vacant city lot.
Empty, Quiet.
We know you've probably all had a gutsful of hearing about our earthquakes - the destruction, the loss, the chaos - but this Christmas day, if you don't get the present you were hoping for, or your Christmas dinner turns pear-shaped as old family resentments rise to the surface over the Christmas turkey, think a little of these Christchurch people who have lost an unquantifiable amount and who are having their second Christmas in an earthquake zone. Not me, I'm fine. I'll be baking in the Melbourne sun for Christmmas.
Many people like these won't be having any fun at all.
Cast your thoughts in their direction.
It won't take you a minute.
And we *will* be grateful.

Barry's Provocative Unpublished Minutes - 147

noreply@blogger.com (Adrienne Rewi) — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 13:40:00 +0000

"Monument and Pedastal."

The latest in our ongoing series of prints from one of New Zealand's leading printmakers, Barry Cleavin.

To Cathedral Square and Back

noreply@blogger.com (Adrienne Rewi) — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 01:55:00 +0000

Last Sunday, I took a walk into Cathedral Square to get that obligatory shot of the broken cathedral. That sounds a little callous perhaps and in truth, unlike many, I didn't find it a particularly emotional experience. I have always loved the Christchurch Cathedral as an architectural statement and I appreciate that for many, it is a Canterbury icon. But for my part, I'm a little 'cathedraled-out.' It's had such an obscene amount of news coverage - especially compared to the far more impressive Catholic Basilica across town - and I always knew that for me, standing in front of the ruin was going to be an anti-climax - if that's a term that can be applied to earthquake ruins.

I was - and always have been - much more interested in 'the lesser buildings,' the everyday fabric of the city, the places where daily lives have played out in ordinary and extraordinary ways. The big BNZ building for instance (top image) is one of the next to be demolished and that will create yet another wound in the architectural perimeter of the Square. And I like the eerie abandoned quality of so many of the shops - places we've walked by so often and never really noticed. Now, as doors and windows swing open and shut in the wind, we think about what might have happened inside the empty shells. The ghosts of busy days gone by.

I love the unexpectedness of a sofa in Cathedral Square.

And the shabby, overgrown grassy patches that would never normally be tolerated in the Garden City

I am fixated (photographically speaking) on diggers, cranes and torn apart walls, on the patched exteriors, the building scars and the broken masonry.

And the poignant personal statements you come upon without warning - a tiny note on a wire fence, a rose stuffed between steel girders, or here, a tattoo commemorating the Christchurch earthquakes - the pain etched into skin, never to be forgotten.

The Cathedral itself, is a sad sight - a broken shadow of its former self.

But I'm more interested in the abandoned grassy banks of the Avon, along Oxford Terrace, where the grass is now nearly hip-high and the park benches are barely visible. It's a sight so far removed from my memory of a crisp, clean, clipped, immaculately-presented Christchurch that I stand in awe of it.

I am lost for words when I see once-busy city intersections covered in leaves, debris and broken buildings. Not a soul in sight. It's how you m ight imagine a scene from some weird, futuristic movie where people have been wiped off the face of the earth.

The interlocking panels of wire fencing adding to the feel of a city cut off from the world - a forbidden place.

I revisit current demoltion sites over and over - this one the Grand Chancellor - in the hope of better coming to terms with the eroding cityscape.

And I marvel at the steel beams, the scaffolding, that crazy patchwork of bars and braces holding fragile 'friends' together in the hope they won't collapse before they can be restored.

It's an ever-changing city - every day seen afresh, every day different and every day a little less of what it once was.

Queenslanders at Play

noreply@blogger.com (Adrienne Rewi) — Tue, 29 Nov 2011 14:00:00 +0000

When I visited Port Douglas in September, I really enjoyed wandering about with my camera, shooting whatever image took my fancy. Amid all the lush, tropical landscapes there are a few people - Queenslanders at rest, at work, at play. Here's a short photographic amble through a day.

Mossman - The morning paper.

The Port Douglas Sunday markets

Afloat 1

Afloat II

At home at the caravan park.

Show boys

Basking on a luxury yacht

Looking on at the Cozzie Club

Christchurch on the Bright Side - Four Photos

noreply@blogger.com (Adrienne Rewi) — Tue, 29 Nov 2011 02:21:00 +0000

A Rose on a Basilica fence

Local hero writ large on a broken wall.

Latimer Square park bench cast adrift in long, overgrown grass.

The bent spire of the Victoria Street clocktower rising above wild flowers on a now-vacant Victoria Street lot.

Barry's Provocative Unpublished Minutes - 146

noreply@blogger.com (Adrienne Rewi) — Mon, 28 Nov 2011 13:37:00 +0000

"Track Pack."

This week's addition to the ongoing series of prints from one of New Zealand's leading printmakers, Barry Cleavin. To see others in the series, click on Cleavin in the index line below.

A Head Start on History

noreply@blogger.com (Adrienne Rewi) — Sun, 27 Nov 2011 19:38:00 +0000

As I walked around Christchurch's Cathedral Square yesterday, I thought about how I was watching history unfold before me. I've thought about that a lot in the last fifteen months since the first earthquake struck the city in September 2010. I've fretted some days, about the vast swathes of the inner city that I have never photographed - gone now, just little pockets of remembering buried under a pile of already-forgotten buildings. But where to begin? Is it even possible to catalogue a whole city in crisis?

I could give up but most days I feel compelled to record some of what is happening to the changing face of Christchurch. Who knows where my thousands of photos will end up? Maybe they'll be discarded after I've gone, maybe they'll be stuffed away somewhere, like millions of other images of this broken place. It matters not ultimately. For now I am happy trying to make sense of it all via a camera lens. And some days, like today, I like to get a head start on history, giving some of my images 'the gloss of age' ahead of their time.

"History never looks like history when you're living through it. It always looks confusing and messy, and it always feels uncomfortable." John W Gardner. " No Easy Victories."

In Black & White - Christchurch

noreply@blogger.com (Adrienne Rewi) — Sun, 27 Nov 2011 00:16:00 +0000

Earthquake Damage

Another Earthquake Photo Roundup

noreply@blogger.com (Adrienne Rewi) — Fri, 25 Nov 2011 23:09:00 +0000

We've never been entirely thrilled about Portaloos in Christchurch - except for during that period immediately after the major earthquakes when the sewerage system was out of action and we couldn't use our toilets - but now that summer is here and the trees are in leaf, those that remain in the worst-hit areas of town, look almost decorative.

The sad truth is though, that they're servicing areas of town that have had the stuffing completely knocked out of them - areas that in many cases, have been abandoned, areas where the gardens are overgrown and the houses are boarded up awaiting demolition. And news this morning that the demolition of whole suburbs will begin in February. These two shots above, taken in Avonside, beside the river.

Meanwhile, in central city the demolition continues.

The metal jaws here, chewing up what remained of the Copthorne Durham Hotel.

And here, a huge crane being erected for the ongoing demolition of an apartment block in Cashel Street.

The pretty green lych gate all that remains standing on the grounds of the once large and impressive, Victorian Gothic Holy Trinity Avonside Church.

And sad little gatherings of broken church tiles amid broken brick remains.

A dainty glass light fitting, swinging idly in the shattered remains of the Catholic Basilica.

And the broken body of the Basilica propped up with dozens of stacked shipping containers.

Shipping containers supporting the front of the Catholic Basilica.

With giant cranes on stand-by, ready for the heavy duty deconstruction of dangerous Basilica masonry.

A poignant note at the CTV site. Small but powerful.

The top floors of the Crowne Plaza hotel - giving a whole new meaning to the term split-level.

Pen-y-bryn - A Southern Beauty

noreply@blogger.com (Adrienne Rewi) — Wed, 23 Nov 2011 14:32:00 +0000

I’m a sucker for old homesteads and when I first encountered Pen-y-Bryn, in Oamaru back in the late 90s, it stayed with me. It was a B&B then. Now it’s upscaled somewhat and under the ownership of James Glucksman (above left) and James Boussy (above right) (aka ‘the Jameses’), it’s become a beautiful heritage retreat where you can sink back into the Victorian comforts of this Category 1 listed beauty.

As you can see from the above aerial image, it’s no small cottage. In fact, it’s one of the largest single storied homes in the South Island and with a massive 9,000 square feet in the main buildings, there’s plenty of room to hide away in a quiet, restful corner. The home was built in 1889 for one John Bulleid (1851-1910) and was designed by the firm of Forrester & Lemon. Pen-y-bryn is Welsh for ‘top of the hill’ and the homestead sits above the town of Oamaru with excellent views of the town, ocean and mountains.

It’s had just five owners in its life. After John Bulleid died, his wife, Fanny moved out and John’s son, John Maurice took over. He spent a lot of time redesigning things and making additions before selling to James McDiarmid, the Mayor of Oamaru in 1922. He and his family were in residence for 73 years before it was sold and refurbished as a lodge in the 1990w. The current owners, the two Jameses, bought it in 2010 and have revamped it into elegant lodge accommodation for ten people. Born in the United States, both have lived and travelled all over the world.

James Glucksman had a career in international management consulting and healthcare for more than 20 years, living and working in more than 40 countries. He’s fluent in Russian and Chinese and has a good working knowledge of French, Spanish and German, as well as “some limited Japanese and Hungarian.” All handy in Oamaru I’m sure! :-) James Boussy meanwhile, trained as a dentist and practised in United States for 15 years before moving his practice to Beijing. They’re both passionate about food and wine and you’re guaranteed amazing meals at Pen-y-bryn.

As big as it is, the house has retained a lovely sense of ‘family home’ and it retains many of its original features including leadlight glass panels, an original 1888 china cabinet, Italian chandeliers bought by the Bulleid family during their European travels, ornate carved furniture and paintings. The suspended plaster ceiling in the dining room was commissioned by John Bulleid in Florence and shipped to Oamaru in wooden crates.

It also has a large billiard room featuring a billiard table that was built in 1915 for the New Zealand Government. On receipt of three tables ordered for parliament, it was found only two would fit, thus the third table was purchased by James McDiarmid and installed at Pen-y-bryn.

The stained glass windows above the west windows are copies of the windows in the English home of Alfred Lord Tennyson. The homestead has numerous other fascinating historical stories and features – including the fact that the gardens were originally designed by renowned colonial landscaper, Alfred Buxton – but by far the best way to appreciate them, is to visit, stay and discover them for yourself. www.penybryn.co.nz

Barry's Provocative Unpublished Minutes - 145

noreply@blogger.com (Adrienne Rewi) — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 13:33:00 +0000

"Mondrian."

We've had a bit of a break from our Barry Cleavin print series, but today we're kicking off again. For others in this now long, ongoing series, click on Cleavin in the index line below this post.

A New Heart

noreply@blogger.com (Adrienne Rewi) — Sun, 20 Nov 2011 18:17:00 +0000

Some weeks ago, like 20,000 other Cantabrians, I went into Cashel Mall - or what had been Cashel Mall, to check out the new Re-Start Project - a temporary central shopping mall of 27 stores located in shipping containers, designed to give city residents a central shopping zone post-earthquakes.

Expecting crowds, I had avoided the place for the first few days.When I finally went in to visit, I held my breath, not knowing what to expect.

I was pleasantly surprised - delighted almost - by the colour and composition of this temporary shopping zone. Not as much hospitality (ie cafes, bars) as I expected and hoped for but very well done nonetheless.

Bold shapes, bold colours, bold combinations.And a bold choice of stores. I'm not sure they'll all do well in terms of retail turnover but in the lead-up to Christmas and in face of enormous curiosity about inner city Christchurch, they should make enough to pay the rent. Long term, I think some of the more upmarket stores may struggle

But let's be honest, after major earthquakes and more than 8,000 aftershocks over 15 months, Christchurch residents need somewhere bright and cheerful. Whether or not they head into Re-Start to buy high-end shoes and designer clothes or just a cup of coffee, becomes a little irrelevant. It's just nice to have a break from all the grey, all the demoltion and ruin and all the dust and filth.

I sat there for some time enjoying that colour and the juxtaposition of shapes, the sitting of the new in front of the old, the scarred backs of remaining buildings acting as a backdrop to Re-Start's innovative design. I like the materials too. Anyone who has read this blog regularly over the last few years will know I have a bit of a thing for unusual materials - corrugated iron for instance; and the use of shipping containers in post-quake Christchurch is nothing short of brilliant. I'm enjoying seeing them propped up both as giant barricades and as supports to faltering facades. I like the way they've been adapted for other temporary uses on now vacant lots - as cafes, dairies and temporary stores and warehouses. And I especially like the way they've been brushed bright at Re-Start.

Because at the end of the day, I'm sick of piles of rubble.I'm tired of seeing yet another building crumble.I'm (almost) bored by diggers, cranes and lorries.I'm sick of dust and dirt and grey liquefaction seeping into everything.It's nice to be able to sit awhile in Re-Start and pretend that this - the waiting tractors and lorries, the cranes and the piles of rubble - aren't waiting just a few paces around the corner!

Going Troppo!

noreply@blogger.com (Adrienne Rewi) — Sat, 19 Nov 2011 00:33:00 +0000

Back in September, I flew from Melbourne to Port Douglas to stay at the very lovely Niramaya Villas. (You can read about that by scrolling down to an earlier blog). With camera at the ready, I spent a leisurely five days exploring both the Niramaya grounds and the wider Port Douglas community. Tropical flowers were a recurring theme. Here are a few - a water lily and frangipani above and more botanic beauties below.

Red Torch Ginger

Unnamed

Heliconia rostrata

Unnamed

Some type of palm berry

And most spectacular of all, the subtle green beauty of the jade vine - this one growing over a pergola in one of the Niramaya Villas. Niramaya and Port Douglas seem like a world away, now that I'm back in Christchurch. The city is flushed green with spring but there's nothing very tropical about the place. But it's nice to wander through my photo files every so often, to transport myself back to all that colour and unstoppable tropical growth.

http://www.niramaya.com.au/

Postcards From Memory - Christchurch As it Used to Be

noreply@blogger.com (Adrienne Rewi) — Sat, 29 Oct 2011 03:18:00 +0000

Every one is talking about the opening of Re-Start in Christchurch's Cashel Mall today. I haven't been in. Crowds were expected and as silly as it still seems, I didn't fancy being stuck in Cashell Mall with thousands of others. Not there's much to fear there in an earthquake now, because so many of the mall's buildings have been demolished. So instead of checking out 27 shops in containers that I never visited when they were in conventional 'shops,' here I am, wistfully perusing my photo files, remembering central Christchurch the way it used to be, before it was shattered by earthquakes. I suspect there'll be quite a few people doing that today, as they stand looking at a series of coloured shipping containers that have been erected in record time to - theoretically at least - give us heart, to encourage us to think things are improving here in Christchurch. I'm sure I'll like the shipping container shops once I actually see them.....from behind my camera.... but it will take more than 27 shops to make me feel like solid progress is being made.

In the meantime, here's a few shots from inner city Christchurch the way it used to be, before September 4, 2010. Most of the buildings shown here, have since been demolished, or unrecognisably damaged and may yet come up against the wreckers' ball.

It's as sunny today as it was then and my head is filled with memories of busy streets with pedestrians pushing their way across intersections and cars tooting. I think of the hassles of trying to find a car park on the city streets - now I just wish I had the chance to try. I remember Japanese brides being photographed in the square and tourists posing proudly in front of the cathedral for that image to send home to a faraway mantlepiece. I think of Neil Dawson's Chalice sending a tapestry of shadows across the Square and the crazy Wizard standing on his ladder berating all before him. I have images of city workers sprawled out in the sun on the banks of the Avon during their lunch break and full tables at restaurants and bars along The Strip. I remember the secondhand bookshops I loved to squander time in - sometimes seeking a treasure for a particular collection, other times just nosing my way through battered and bruised books harbouring few clues to their earlier lives.

These are all passing shards from another time now.

Moving on is inevitable and necessary - but I'm not ready to do it today.

Not for 27 painted shipping containers at least.

Niramaya - The Ultimate Tropical Retreat

noreply@blogger.com (Adrienne Rewi) — Tue, 25 Oct 2011 23:26:00 +0000

When I flew from Melbourne to Cairns back on September 10, and then drove on up to Port Douglas, I was almost crippled with the pain of an injured back and dosed to the eyeballs with painkillers. But looking down on the vibrant blue of the tropical ocean and the coconut palms arching over pristine white beaches, I felt confident things were improving – and by the time my cousin drove me through the gates of Niramaya Villas & Spa, I knew I deserved the luxury haven that was unfolding before me.

Niramaya is a Sanskrit word I believe. I was told what it means but I’ve lost my important notebook, filled with just this sort of travel detail. I vaguely remember something like ‘peace’ and ‘calm’ - but as far as I was concerned at the time, when I opened the front gate to my villa, it meant ‘God, I’m glad to be here!’ I never wavered from that first impression throughout my five days at this divine retreat.

Set on 15 acres of beautifully landscaped grounds, Niramaya’s Asian-inspired architecture (think Balinese-style pavilions), sets you up for a tropical indulgence you’ll remember long after the event. Designed by Grounds Kent Architects ( http://www.gkaperth.com/ ) and opened back in 2006 as Bale Port Douglas, Niramaya is just a short stroll from Four Mile Beach. In my opinion, it reigns supreme as the classiest resort environment in Port Douglas – and believe me there are plenty to choose from. I visited several others while I was in Port Douglas and while each had their charm, none came close to the level of personal comfort provided by Niramaya.

Every villa – and there are four different styles – is like a home away from home, only better. They all have covered pavilions, outdoor barbecue and lounge areas and, best of all, your very own plunge pool. This in addition to the main swimming complex located at the centre of the resort. Doors slide open to beautiful views over water-lily-filled lakes; lush tropical plants and colourful exotic flowers droop lusciously over pergolas; and plush day beds lie in wait after a day exploring nearby Port Douglas village.

It’s hard not to sound like a cliché – or a travel brochure – when you write about a place like Niramaya but the truth is, it really *is* as good as the pictures – better even; because when you’re there, you meet fellow travellers and a staff determined to make your stay as blissful as possible. It’s close to the heart of busy Port Douglas village yet just far enough away, and surrounded by tropical forest, so that it remains a peaceful retreat. I know I was sorry to have to leave. It didn’t fix my back incidentally, but it sure as heck made the pain easier to deal with. I’d go back in a flash. www.niramaya.com.au

Re-Colouring a Broken City

noreply@blogger.com (Adrienne Rewi) — Sat, 22 Oct 2011 02:22:00 +0000

I have taken hundreds of photographs of earthquake ruins in the thirteen months since the mag 7.1 quake on September 4, 2010 and as I was sorting through them today, I thought how endlessly dreary most of them were. I sat here wondering how long it would be before the city was, once again, a bright, busy, colourful place that I could happily roam , safe in the knowledge that if I ventured in there, it wasn't all going to collapse around - or on - me. I decided I couldn't wait however long that might take, and seldom needing any encouragement, I launched into Photoshop.

For me, there's just about as much guesswork involved in Photoshop as there is in predicting when Christchurch will seem 'colourful' again, so I sincerely hope no one asks me how I achieved these effects. I've forgotten already. But I like the results.

I was aiming for 'a change of mood' and I think an element of surreal has been introduced - which is appropriate given that that's exactly how the inner city seems when you walk around the cordon.

I quite like a green brick library.

And I definitely fancy bright green containers.

And I'm wishfully fantasising about a rainbow coloured ruin

Under a moody fluorescent rainbow.

It doesn't seem like a lot to wish for from where I'm sitting.