Thinking of bridges and crossing them into the past I thought it was about time that I took a shot of the Sydney Harbour Bridge.
I sat on a bench listening to the groan and release sounds of the Ozjet Cruises pontoon and looked at that iconic arch in the dark salty Sydney night air. Given Godfrey Miller first lived in a studio at 54 Young St he must have commented somewhere about the Bridge – he was after all an artist of arches, curves and lines. Moving to Sydney in 1939 Miller would have witnessed a ‘new’ bridge given that it was opened in 1932. I need to immerse myself within those times by possibly getting quite happily lost in digitised newspapers.
I tracked back to my modern lodgings via Young St to find that Miller’s first Sydney abode has now been absorbed into the modern monolith, Governor
Phillip Tower, 44-58 Young St, Sydney. The Young St Miller ‘bridge’ has been decimated in a 1994 major rebuild of the precinct. In 2010 I take a photograph and a street camera looks back at me – times have changed.
Tomorrow night is the Godfrey Miller exhibition at Artarmon Galleries and I have an interview lined up before the opening with an ex-student who later became a colleague of Godfrey Miller – Jocelyn Maughan (Patonga Bakehouse Gallery). In initial phone contact I already have received treasured anecdotes from both Jocelyn and Robin Norling: Had I heard of ‘Godfrey’s Line’? He was a venerated figure at the then East Sydney Technical College (now National Arts School) but released his knowledge slowly with great care, only imparting words when he felt the student was ready His wisdom seems to have been released very gently in an informal style and there was no apparent lesson plan…but there was ‘Godfrey’s Line’
An aside – No doubt it has been noted in previous posts (see Montsalvat pieces) that the moon rhythms are important to the writer of this blog and the build up to a full moon often leads to sleepless nights and strange behaviours in the animal world. Last night was one such and infected our whole household – well except for the one who is free of the power behind the tides. The full moon is not due until this Thursday. However, it is already a powerful one in the making – see photo.
So powerful a soulful song of a lone native bird echoed between the cities towers. I walked on into Bent St, wondering if a security guard that was passing could identify the song. It was a lament, haunting, out of place, alone.