I’ve recently been curating a few collections which has taken me across images from multiple years of work. Some of the images have recently been published, others have not. As I came across images I’d forgotten about, I decided they deserved a repost and some extra air time.
Earlier in the week I mentioned colour palettes and how the traditional summer colours are cool. In summer, orange is a very hot, warm colour and it can also be very striking and distinctive. Here, the evening sky lights up bright orange as dusk approaches in dunners.
I’ve recently been curating a few collections which has taken me across images from multiple years of work. Some of the images have recently been published, others have not. As I came across images I’d forgotten about, I decided they deserved a repost and some extra air time.
Here are those cool summer colours once again. I went exploring around the Otago Peninsula for signs of summer. The one theme I kept comin back to was boats. What says summer more than fine weather, the beach and a boat.
I’ve recently been curating a few collections which has taken me across images from multiple years of work. Some of the images have recently been published, others have not. As I came across images I’d forgotten about, I decided they deserved a repost and some extra air time.
This was a quick city study one winter’s night here in Dunedin focusing on capturing the street lights and car lights on a chilly evening.
I’ve recently been curating a few collections which has taken me across images from multiple years of work. Some of the images have recently been published, others have not. As I came across images I’d forgotten about, I decided they deserved a repost and some extra air time.
On a still, clear evening with lights from the bars and restaurants taking over and a touch of colour in the sky, it’s hard not to like The Esplanade.
I’ve recently been curating a few collections which has taken me across images from multiple years of work. Some of the images have recently been published, others have not. As I came across images I’d forgotten about, I decided they deserved a repost and some extra air time.
Larnach’s Castle
New Zealand’s only castle continues to remain one of Dunedin’s highest ranked tourist attractions. The extensive and expansive property holds a commanding position on the peninsula and as impressive as it is during the day, it is equally as spooky at night. Here are some facts to get you thinking:
Land was purchased in 1870 and construction started in 1871.
Originally the Castle was completed in 1874 with additions continuing until 1887.
It took more than 200 workmen over three years to build the outer shell of Larnach’s Castle.
It took master craftsmen from Europe 12 years to complete the interior of the castle.
Building materials for the Castle were shipped to Broad Bay and then transported up to the Castle. The Castle became known as ‘The Camp’ and the track heading up the hill from Broad Bay was known as ‘The Camp Track.’
Materials used to build the castle include marble from Italy, slate from Wales, glass from Venice and native wood from around New Zealand including kauri, rimu and honeysuckle.
When finished the Castle had 43 rooms and required a staff of 46 servants.
The Ballroom built in 1885 is 3,000 square foot.
It was used as a hospital for mental patients (an overflow of patients from Seacliff Lunatic Asylum) and shell-shocked soldiers when purchased in 1906.
The Baker family (current owners) have owned the Castle since 1962.
There have been numerous reports of ghosts over the years including an incident that took place in 1994 when Castle of Lies, a play on the Larnach family, premiered in the grand ballroom.
The original cost of construction was estimated as being between £100,000 – £150,000 which converted into today’s money is somewhere between $600 -$900 million. #lovindunners#fromasmallcity
I’ve recently been curating a few collections which has taken me across images from multiple years of work. Some of the images have recently been published, others have not. As I came across images I’d forgotten about, I decided they deserved a repost and some extra air time.
Nothing is more comfortable than sleeping in your own bed. After being away for a few nights, I awoke feeling refreshed. I’d survived my Walk In The Snow, my Walk In The Badlands and A Walk In The Bush. Now, I had the day free to myself. With no plans and not having to be relatively useful to anyone, I decided a walk in town would be just the ticket. Besides, there was a Colin McCahon Exhibition showing at the Art Gallery which I very much wanted to see. With the day still young, I headed for Dunedin’s Lower Stuart Street.
I was lucky to get there at all! At the very moment I was going to execute a textbook left turn into a street car park, some moron driving a Kia Sportage decided that this nanosecond would be a good time to have a brain explosion and forget how to drive! I showed my admiration at his lack of driving skills with a loud blast of the horn. This, he clearly appreciated as he cheerfully thanked me with a wave of one finger. Abandoning my car, I quickly tracked down the nearest coffee establishment.
I had heard the Cafe Morning Magpie had ridiculously good coffee and that they were a must for those that love a good cup of joe. This was clearly going to be the place I needed to start my day.
I instantly adored the place. It’s hard to not love a cafe that has upside down lampshades and ladders hanging from the ceiling, a deer’s head on the wall and kitchen staff that happily sing Daft Punk. I finished my coffee while taking in the art work of Josh Tyler Stent and Josh Kennedy on the walls before continuing up Lower Stuart Street.
With 20 minutes to kill before the Art Gallery opened, I decided to wander past the Street Art of Bath Street and Moray Place before taking in Historic First Church. I’ve visited Dunedin’s First Church many times. I think it’s the links to Dunedin’s founding Scottish settlers I enjoy the most. I explored and admired the Gothic architecture, the stained glass windows and the tapestry for a while. It was then that I discovered that the Heritage Centre was closed. Slightly disappointed, I wandered around the grounds, suddenly noticing that the Art Gallery would be open.
Taking one last look from the corner of the grounds, it’s hard to believe that the hill was lowered by nearly 12 metres with a pick and shovel to create a raised platform with cliff faces on three sides for the church to sit on. Whoever convinced the newly settled citizens of Dùn Èideann (Dunedin) that such manual labour was a necessity must have been a hell of a motivator. With that thought, I left as it was time for Colin McCahon. #lovindunners#fromasmallcity
I can’t really explain why I went to Sandfly Bay, I think mainly because I hadn’t been there in a while and I felt like looking at Sea Lions. The thing is, we Dunedinites really don’t know how lucky we are with our wildlife. Seeing Seals and Sea Lions on Dunedin beaches is becoming as common as a political party leadership change, only with less surprise.
I spent a few more hours exploring the city looking for autumn colour. I walked through alleyways and side streets, looking for places I hadn’t visited recently. Every so often I would come across unexpected shadows created by light from strange angles. I then found myself overlooking what used to be part of Bell Hill before it was excavated with picks and shovels, sometime around the 1860’s. It was here that I found an autumn view of the Cenotaph in Queens Garden. The surrounding trees were a mixture of yellow and green in front of a blue sky. Another autumn surprise from a small city.
Wandering through a city in autumn is like constantly putting your hand into a lucky dip box. There are all sorts of surprises that pop up as the autumn leaves change. I wandered along George Street in the afternoon as the clouds changed overhead. Every so often I came across evidence of a recent student party or preparations for a new gathering about to begin. It was then that I came across pockets of colour that I couldn’t help but enjoy.
After leaving Baldwin Street and a family recreating their own Jaffa Race, I headed to a place called Chingford Park. I was a tad wary of this due to the strange encounter I had last time I was there. A man had been walking his dog when he informed me (in a voice that was sharpish and bossy) that the plastic frisbees used for the frisbee golf course are destroying the trees . Also, the city council has secret hidden cameras all over the place!
This was the first time I had returned to the park since that enlightening encounter and fortunately all was quiet. I then proceed to spend my time wandering amongst the trees, enjoying the shifts of light in between the shadows with a nearby stream adding musical backdrop.
Upon leaving I thought to myself, ‘I wonder how long it would take to cut down a tree with a plastic frisbee?’ I then gave a friendly wave to no one and nothing in particular. After all, you never know who’s watching!
How proud is Dunedin of Baldwin Street, the steepest street in the world. Ffordd Pen Llech in Harlech, Wales took the title for about ten months in 2020/2021 until sanity prevailed and the title was given back to Dunedin. I’m not altogether sure why I went to Baldwin Street. I think it was mostly to get a photo to add to my collection like the one posted today. To be honest, I wasn’t too adventurous with my photos as I captured the traditional slanted letter box and cabbage tree image that seems to feature heavily on social media. I did however grab a few other angles and shots that I would tuck away for a rainy day. Also, in case I ever met anyone from Ffordd Pen Llech I wanted to be able to say ‘told ya so!’
Having collected a range of photos from the Mapoutaphi Pa, Canoe and Purakanui beaches that I would work on over the next few months, I left the Bay behind to start my trip back to town. As I was leaving I happened upon a sight that warmed my heart. An honesty box.
Back when everyone was a lot more trusting of each other and carried cash, the honesty box was a staple of New Zealand life. You saw them everywhere and you could buy all sorts of things from them. All you needed was a little cash and a sense of right and wrong.
When I was young we used to stop at them and buy fresh fruit like apples, cherries and peaches. Closer to town you could buy vegetables and fresh farm eggs and the challenge was always to get everything home safely without it being broken, eaten or squashed.
So leaving Purakanui my heart leapt when I saw one. I hadn’t seen one in years and I was almost overcome with excitement. There were fresh eggs, carrots, onions, cabbages, cauliflower and courgettes, all home grown of course. Newly dug heritage spuds, beetroot, an assortment of books and freshly baked bread that made my stomach rumble. I considered all the options in front of me and was seriously tempted with the smell of the bread. My thoughts drifted off to a steak sandwich with mustard mayonnaise and spicy tomato relish which would accompany the bread wonderfully. The only drawback was that unfortunately I have long since joined the band of people who no longer carry cash and I didn’t all together trust myself that I would remember to pay later.
I decided it was best to leave the goodies for others and headed back to my car, happy in the knowledge that some traditions are still alive.
I left the charm of Aramoana and headed back to Port Chambers before heading over the hill to a bay called Purakanui. A distance of only 28 kilometres, but it’s a splendid drive that gives you remarkable views of the whole northern coast of Dunedin. Before leaving Aramoana, for a moment I had considered walking up to Hayward Point, which is a cliff top walking track through farmland and regenerated forest. There are two starting points for the track to Heyward Point. One is at the end of Heyward Point Road and the other is from Aramoana. I had been at the Aramoana starting point but the uphill climb was one I couldn’t face, so I ended up deciding that it would be better suited for a day when I was a little more enthusiastic about hills! Besides, today was more of a car travelling day and I had promised myself I would play Bob Dylan’s 1976 Desire album at some point during the day and that seemed much more appealing.I also wanted to reach Canoe Beach and the Mapoutaphi Pa Site at Goat Island at Purakanui and I was already pushed for time.
I can’t remember ever seeing anyone upset while riding a horse. Whenever I see people riding horses they seem to be having the time of their life, unless you count jockeys who have just fallen off and they look in agonising pain. Which, to be fair, they probably are!
Since we are on the subject of horses, did you know that the Police Offences Act of 1928 made it an offence to allow a mare to be mated within sight of a public road, church, railway station or wharf? This was the same act that meant you weren’t able to beat a carpet or fly a kite if it annoyed others. It was also illegal to wear felt or slippers as a disguise at night.
However, the best part of the 1928 Police Offences Act is that they use the terms rogues, vagabonds and incorrigible. All words we should bring back into our daily vocabulary. Other words I would also add to this list include hootananny, hornswoggle cockalorum and tittynope.
I returned to my car and then headed for the small village of Aramoana. Here’s a fact for you, 80 species of moths have been recorded on the Aramoana Saltmarsh and further to that, the tidal flats at Aramoana are the most important habitat for wading birds in Otago. While we are on the subject of birds, when Hoiho penguins (like the ones that live in the dunes at Aramoana near Keyhole rock) go out to sea to feed, they travel up to 15 kilometres from the shore and down to depths of 100 metres. Yet, we wouldn’t have all that if they had built an aluminium smelter there in the mid 1970’s. Thank goodness Aramoana was saved.
It wasn’t long after leaving Black Jack’s Point and the stone sculptures that I once again left the path, this time for the main road. I wanted to see the repainting of some old signage that had been done on the side of a building some years ago. I had, of course, driven past this spot many times however it’s hard to fully take things in when you’re driving. Since I was on foot, it seemed an ideal opportunity.
The building used to be an old corner store which featured an outside wall covered in advertising brands whose who were once popular all over Otago. Brands like Tiger Tea, Lane’s Bottled Sunshine and Ward’s Ice Cream. The repainting had been completed by Dunedin artist Ricky Drew in 2017 so it had only taken me five years to stop and properly appreciate it, but at last I could say I had. My mind satisfied.
Leaving the group of twenty-somethings to their mating ritual, I passed a place called Black Jack’s Point and continued on in glorious sunshine until a brick structure caught my eye. With my curious nature taking hold, I left the path to investigate.
A short distance away, on the shore amongst the stones, rocks and replantings, standing taller than my six foot frame were some very carefully made brick sculptures. They remind me of the kind of artwork that could be found in an open air gallery or something. Suddenly a train rattled past on the tracks that were not too far away. Letting my imagine go, I then wondered whether they had been made a homeless hobo who had a name like Diamond Joe James, T-Bone Jack, or Railway Butch who had spent his life riding the train boxcars up and down the line from Dunedin City to Port Chalmbers. The kind of person that folk singers like Woody Guthrie or Ramblin Jack Elliott would sing about in the 1950’s. Just then, I was shaken from my daydream when I tripped over a branch that had been hiding in plain sight, I stumbled forward a few metres, before regaining my balance with the aid of the bank.
Ensuring I had all my belongings and that my feet weren’t wet, I decided to leave these sculptures for others to enjoy and returned to the path.
I left the peninsula and made my way back across to the western side of the Harbour. There was still a considerable amount of the day left, the sun was shining and I felt I hadn’t yet done enough steps in the day to earn my 4pm (ish) beer.
On the western side of the Otago Harbour a considerable amount of money was spent beautifying the area, turning it into a recreation trail complete with picnic areas, fitness equipment and paths for walking, running and cycling. The trail currently extends some four kilometres to a point called St Leonards, however eventually it’ll continue all the way to Port Chalmers (a total distance of around ten kilometres). Upon arrival at the trail, it wasn’t hard to see why it is so popular. On a still, calm day like it was, a nice peaceful walk along a path that casually wound its way along the waterfront with the peninsula as a backdrop seemed quite delightful. Setting off in good spirits, it wasn’t long before I discovered that I wasn’t the only one who had decided to enjoy the sunshine. I hadn’t gone more than twenty steps from my car when I came across a group of shirtless young men who seemed to be imitating the Persian Ibex that live in the European mountains and claim mating rights by slamming their heads together. This display by the young men was for the benefit of the equally skimpily dressed group of young ladies who were not too far away. When the area of the West Harbour Recreation Trail was opened by then Mayor Dave Cull, I wonder if he knew he was opening the West Harbour Pleasure Garden and Pick-Up Joint! Dunedin already had one ‘pleasure garden’ and that disastrously closed one hundred and fifty one years ago!
Leaving Ralph Hotere’s former studio and hoping that one day I’ll return to find it more than just an empty building slowly eroding away, I decided to do something completely illogical. On a whim, I decided to visit the Ōtākou Marae on the Otago Peninsula. My thinking was simply based on the reasoning that if I went to Port Chamlers because that’s where the settlers landed, then I should go to Ōtākou because the Marae and Pā sites have been in existence a lot longer. I must admit, this did feel somewhat like a token gesture, but I reasoned that it was better than complete ignorance and so off I set to a location some 30km away.
Sometime later, parking the car by the bay at Ōtākou, it was a short walk to where the marae is located. I then spent the next wee while taking in all the different views that looked out on the water. The harbour was still and it seemed an ideal place to waste away the hours and reflect on the fact that long before any European came to these shores, local Māori had named every mountain, hill, lake, river, stream and other smaller natural features. Names, often given as a reminder of people or events connected with them.
For instance, Dunedin’s highest peak was known as Kapukataumahaka and there are two stories which explain its features. The first is about three young women who were travelling home to Ōtākou when they had to spend the night sleeping on the mountain. However, while they were sleeping they were turned into the 3 main peaks we can now see.
The second is about an old wise man who climbed the hill and lay down to rest and became transformed into the peaks that can be seen today. According to the legend, it is believed that he is lying on his back, his head to the west with the summit being his stomach. We however, know it as Mount Cargill, named after the co-founder of the Otago settlement which landed on the 23rd March 1848. I think I prefer Kapukataumahaka.
When I was a boy, Aotearoa’s history always started with Dutch explorer Abel Tasman deciding after sailing all this way from some unnamed place, he couldn’t be bothered calling in for a stopover and continued on to Australia. Next, in history came the triumphant arrival of James Cook (cue the playing of ‘Pomp and Circumstance Military Marches’) and thus began life in the land of the long white cloud.
Fortunately, it is now being recognised that life in Aotearoa had been pretty successful pre-Cook’s arrival. In actual fact, 500 years before Cook decided to have a wee look around, Polynesian explorers were using state of the art sailing craft and had proven themselves to be expert scientists, engineers, mathematicians and innovators.
So it is interesting to me that we still mark Otago Anniversary Day. Don’t get me wrong, I am never one to turn down a public holiday however it does seem a tad erroneous to commemorate the Scottish settlers arrival in Port Chalmers on the ship the John Wickcliffe, when local Māori had already been living in the area for a substantial period of time. I came to this conclusion during an afternoon wander around the port where the province was ‘born’.
I had started by visiting the spot in Port Chalmers where the pioneer settlers landed from a boat off the John Wickliffe and had set off from there. A patch of blue sky had appeared above and with hopes that the day would continue to improve, I decided a stroll was in order.
I spent some time wandering around the various streets looking at buildings from angles I hadn’t seen before, my attention continually drawn back to the former Bank of New Zealand building that sat in a prominent place on the corner overlooking the wharf. The architecture of the bank clearly showed that the port was once an important part of the Dunedin landscape, however like many of its surrounding contemporaries it had seen better days. Since ending its days as a bank, in more recent times it was owned by famous New Zealand artist Ralph Hotere who used it as an art studio. So, if that isn’t a good enough reason to immediately turn it into an art gallery, there never will be.
I wanted to revisit this image before I got to deep into autumn. It had been sitting in the back of my mind for some time and I finally found myself in a space where I was ready to work on it. I took it at the Early Settlers Museum while I was shooting the Tiger Tea Trolley Bus. Inside the bus they have a video playing on a large glass panel that you can view from the back seat, it also makes a really cool effect in photoshop because you can bring out all the different colours when editing. At the time I was processing it, I recalled a post I did about The Journey of Anthony Trollope which gave me the idea of giving it a time travel feel into another dimension, with a bit of a mind flip feel to it.
I think the thing I like about autumn is that it’s a season of surprises. Just when I expect a day of fine weather a southerly hits and the temperature drops, or the leaves on the trees change and a backdrop of green is transformed into the autumn hues like yellows, oranges, reds and ochre overnight. My search for autumn colours had led me to the city centre and once I left the Octagon and ventured along Moray Place it wasn’t long before I came across what I was looking for.
I started with a wander through Dunedin’s Octagon. The only reason I was there was to see if I could capture any signs of autumn in the central city. However, with a number of scaffolding structures surrounding buildings, a protest in the lower Octagon and fly tipping in the upper Octagon (apparently this was also a protest) my task became considerably harder. After spending some time looking at all the different angles along with the early autumn colours on the trees, I finally found a spot I liked.
I’d spent the previous day doing my best baked lobster impression. At some point before midday I’d covered myself in sunscreen, sat back in a deck chair and opened a book. There I stayed for many blissful hours enjoying every second in the Dunedin sun. I had found myself curiously fascinated by author Patricia Cornwell who was providing a portrait of a killer. Her theory was that German-British painter Walter Sickert was the elusive serial killer Jack the Ripper. The strangely intriguing aspect of this book was not that Jack the Ripper had been uncovered, but the fact that we were to believe that an author had succeeded in unraveling a mystery that had baffled experts across the world.
Now, twenty four hours later and with Dunedin’s summer sun having been replaced with low cloud and rain, my intrigue into Cornwell’s theory had been replaced with confusion. This left me with three choices. The first was to persist with Cornwall’s wildly speculative theory, the second was to use the book as a doorstop, the third was to walk in the rain around the Botanical Gardens. I chose the gardens and now have a very useful doorstop!
Another wee trek I had taken in the sun was to adventure across the rocks beyond the St Clair Salt Water Pool at low tide. This is usually an area covered in water and pounded by swells as waves break on the point. However on one such occasion with the sea calm combined with a low tide, I spent an enjoyable hour scrambling over the rocks. It was during this time that I came across something altogether unexpected. There, sitting attached to a rock, surrounded in seaweed sat a plaque to Rex Von Huben. Just who Rex was I wasn’t sure, but clearly he must have been a person of note to be remembered in such a way. I decided to find out.
A short time later, having left the rocks behind and thanks to the wonders of Google, I discovered that Rex Von Huben was one of New Zealand’s earliest recognised big-wave surfers in the deep south who at the age of 43 lost his life in a car crash in 1998. The following year, as a memorial to Rex, his widow Lorraine and friend Kyle Davidson organised New Zealand’s first big-wave surfing event the following year called the Quiksilver Rex von Huben Big Wave Challenge. And if I learnt nothing else during summer, that was good enough for me.
Before the last day of summer ended, I decided I wanted to prove to myself that summer hadn’t been all bad and that there had actually been some rather splendid days in the sun. With this in mind I went back to a group of images I had taken recently during one of Dunedin’s finer spells.
And so it was that on a Monday morning I found myself at the beach, watching the last day of summer begin. Now, I don’t want to say that I always start March feeling cheated, it’s just that I always exspect so much more out of a Dunedin summer. Every year December rolls around and my head becomes filled with visions of deliciously hot, warm, cloudless days that stretch on well to early March. The reality is much different. Usually I’m buying firewood by the second week in January and then refusing to use it on principle.
So, with time almost up on summer and with less than twenty four hours before autumn officially started, the beach seemed an appropriate place to be. It was a warm Dunedin morning. I watched the sun appear from beyond the horizon and rise into the sky. It also seemed ironic that the last day of summer was going to be warm and fine, given that so many days over the last three months had been overcast.
This is more or less where I spent an evening on Smaills Beach. It had been a long summer’s day and the last rays of the sun were slipping below the horizon. The tide had revealed rocks all covered in green seaweed as the yellow and orange sky in the distance seemed to dither for a minute or two. Somehow in that second everything seemed a lot closer yet further away than ever before.
I had a strange hour exploring the Dunedin Botanical Gardens. There was a family putting on an impromptu acapella concert near the duck pond. The children were singing classic hits such as ‘I want more food for the ducks’ along with ‘he took all mine’ and finally the classic ‘why can’t we ride the train.’ A lady (who I assumed was the mother) was adding backing vocals based around a repeatedly chorus line of ‘I can’t take you anywhere’ while a man (who I assumed was the father) was playing the baseline of ‘this was your stupid idea.’ I had hoped the children would add to the drama by actually performing in the duck pond, however they unfortunately set off for the car park instead. Just then a congregation of students heavily armed with alcohol made their way from one entrance to the other. As they seemed to be heading in the same direction as the aforementioned family, I wondered if Dad was tempted to join them, or the mother for that matter!
I went for a long walk with no real agenda, other than to see this spot. The day was warm, the sun was out, the water was still and I had no time frame or schedule for the day, other than to be close to a beer at around 4pm. As it was only just a little after 1pm, I had many hours in front of me and very little plans. I had no idea where I was going, but I’d figure it out somehow.
15 new images from a series called …… Highlands
… from a Small City. My daily musings from Ōtepoti to get you inspired. Read the blog, view the photos, embrace the creativity.
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