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Information board at Tarraleah lookout (complete with photographer's reflection)
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TOURISTS AT TARRALEAH
As Artist in Residence
I'm officially supposed to be yet another interesting attraction for
tourists to look at. So far I seem to have averaged one visit a day,
which suits me very well as it's just enough to be diverting but not
enough to become an Unwelcome Interruption.
Some of the people who
have come in have been comfortably at ease; others plainly bemused.
There was the friendly, chatty engineer from Vancouver who was
filling in time while her sons were off fishing, and was good
company. There was the young couple who were worried one or both of
their children might touch something or behave inappropriately,
fussed frantically trying to hush them, and finally fled when it all
became too terrifying. There was the portly lady taking a break from
her Leadership Conference who sat on the couch and asked sensible
questions, finally remarking on my sensible shoes. This was an odd
non sequitor, but perhaps she had just suffered an Unfortunate
Footwear Experience.
And there was the
elderly man in shorts and sandals and a terry-towelling hat who
wanted to know what style I called that? I said “Tasmanian Gothic”
and he nodded wisely. “Gothic Style” he repeated, making sure he
remembered it so he could tell his daughter, who Paints. He'd seen
traditional painting, which he could understand and he'd seen
abstract painting which he couldn't, but my paintings had him
stumped. He liked them, but “It's sort of like eggs, scrambled eggs
. . . “
What? Intrigued, I
asked him to elaborate, but despite his best attempts he couldn't
really explain what he was trying to say. I think he was having trouble with
recognisable shapes in unexpected juxtapositions; they had to mean
something, but he had no idea what and was definitely out of his
depth. So he told me all about his family until his wife came looking
for him and whisked him away.
TARRALEAH
I've continued
exploring the immediate surrounds of Tarraleah, and have taken a
large number of photographs, most of which I will probably never use.
The pipeline with its magnificent surge towers continues to
fascinate; it does rather dominate the landscape.
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It's hard to believe that thirty years ago all those empty paddocks were a town with a population of 1,600. Yes, over there, the other side of the pipeline.
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Reception at Tarraleah was, in those days, the general store.
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There are traces of
Engineering all through the bush, but nature is carrying on
undeterred.
I spent a jolly fifteen minutes or so watching a
platypus, and here is the photograph to prove it.
Despite my best
efforts, it belongs in the category of worse-than-useless amateur
wildlife photographs, but I tried. It's not my fault the platypus wouldn't co-operate.