Witchcraft and Wizardry

“You’re a wizard, Harry.”

Hogwarts and Trees, Hasselblad 500cm, Portra 400, Oct 2022. Double Exposure

I’ve been waiting for my letter from Hogwarts for twenty three years now. With each passing year grows the slow acceptance that perhaps I was born a muggle, a person not gifted with the powers of magic. I may never be able to change into an eagle, or wave a piece of wood and levitate a giant boulder into the air.

As I have gone through life however, I have accumulated a growing hat of tricks. And while none of these tricks that I have learnt are able to defeat the laws of nature which govern my world, there is perhaps a bit of wizardry involved in some of these tricks.

The watchtower, Hasselblad 500cm, Portra 400, Oct 2022. Double Exposure

One way in which I have discovered a bit of magic is through practicing film photography.

The ability to capture light onto a piece of film, in a split second, to freeze it, as you will; to create permanence from impermanence, is a true wonder. With the spread of digital photography, the wonder of this ability is easy to under estimate. But if you are ever in a dark room, and see the image simply appear on a piece of photographic paper, it is miraculous.

The beauty of film photography is that a piece of film, given the right camera, can be exposed as many times as one desires. With each new exposure, a new layer gets added, and the end result is somewhat unpredictable, and arguably greater than the sum of its parts.

I’ve been experimenting with multiple exposures only this year, but as you can see, the results are captivating, fascinating and contain a depth that a single exposure image rarely possesses.

Tree, Flower, Castle Collage. Hasselblad 500cm, Portra 400, Oct 2022. Triple Exposure.

Last week, when I was invited along with the other Art Society of Tasmania members to capture Government House, I couldn’t help but think that perhaps I finally got my invitation to Hogwarts after all.

-A.S. Lenah Valley, 8/10/22

Space and Time

Space and time are two concepts that define our reality.

But what exactly is space, what exactly is time?

Misty cliffs and snowgum forests, kunanyi. Hasselblad 500 cm, Cinestill 800. Sep 2022.

Although space and time are inseparable and neither would make sense without the other, space is perhaps the easier concept to comprehend. Space is the big emptiness that makes up most of our universe. And this big emptiness gives home to matter, objects with mass, like planets, stars, mountains, seas, rivers, animals, plants and pretty much everything we know and are familiar with. And while it is tempting to think of space as existing ‘out there’, between the planets and solar systems, between galaxies, there is also space within the atoms, the little building blocks that make up matter. Just how our Earth orbits the Sun, electrons orbit the nucleus, the centre of each atom. And between these particles, no matter how small or how big, there is space. Space has no character of its own, but without it, nothing could exist.

(Space also gives home to dark matter, which in fact makes up most of the universe and can be thought of as an imperceptible, thick soup in which we are constantly swimming without realising it. At least, that’s how I think of it. No one really knows much about dark matter, except that it exists and makes up most of the mass of the universe. There are some experiments underway to detect it, but detecting dark matter has so far proven very difficult indeed. )

Snowgum forest, Mt Field West, Hasselblad 500 cm, Cinestill 800. July 2022.

There are many ways to think of time. Some people consider it to be a straight line, allowing events to progress forward in a linear fashion. This makes sense in a lot of ways, as the linear view of time allows for the progression of events in our lives. Our recorded history and our time keeping customs are testament to this. Once something has happened, it’s done, we can’t go back. Time keeps moving forward, whether we like it or not. We are born, grow up, grow old and die. I’m yet to hear of a person who has managed to do this cycle in reverse.

But here comes the twist. Time could also be viewed in a circular fashion. Instead of thinking of time in a straight line, we could also consider it to be a circle. Events in our lives repeat, at regular intervals. Our Earth goes around the sun, and as it orbits, so the seasons change, and with each year that passes there is a chance for rebirth. Each day is a rebirth, in a way. When a tree is cut down, the growth rings embedded within the trunk stand testament to the cycle of the seasons. Empires rise and fall, and history has a way of repeating itself. What was once, will be again. Perhaps not exactly in the same way, but in a way that confirms the concept of time being circular. It goes around, then comes around. So on and so forth.

Looking west, from Mt Field West. Hasselblad 500 cm, Cinestill 800. July 2022.

And now to connect these two rather abstract ideas into a cohesive unit!

If we wish to travel through space, it will take time. The further we want to go, the longer it will take. When we start thinking about covering the distance between planets or stars, our basic unit of measurement takes the form of light years. This is because Einstein postulated that the speed of light in space is constant, regardless of your frame of reference. So a light year is the distance that light covers in one year and it’s a reliable measurement because the speed of light doesn’t change in space, regardless of whether the object that’s emitted it is moving towards you, or away from you. Given that light covers about three hundred thousand kilometres per second in space, a light year is a long way indeed!

In other words, we can get a scope for the scale of space by observing how long it takes light to cover certain sections of it. For example, we know light takes about 8 minutes from the Sun to reach us here on Earth. And this is the interesting bit. When we look at the sun, we are not seeing the sun how it is in this moment, we are seeing it as it was 8 minutes ago. And similarly, if we are looking at a star up in the night sky whose light has taken a million years to reach us, then we are seeing that star as it was a million years ago.

And so this shows that space and time are connected, inseparable. To overcome space, we need time. And to observe the passage of time, an event needs to occur in space.

Or something like that.

-A.S. 1/10/22, Lenah Valley

May they rest in peace

From time to time we discover that life is but a fleeting thing that can end but with a moment’s notice.

Huon Island, Sep 2022. Pentax MX, Portra 800.

It seems appropriate to write a post on death, due to its prevalent presence in my life over the last couple of weeks. And while I haven’t witnessed any of these deaths that I elude to first hand, the news of these deaths have all awakened a response within me which is worth contemplating upon.

It began with the news of the Queen’s death. It wasn’t an unlikely death for she had had a long life, but for some reason the thought of the queen actually corking it never occurred to me. Even though it shouldn’t have been surprising, it was a shock when I discovered it. For as long as I have been alive, the Queen has always been the queen, she has been a constant presence in my life, even if that presence was remote, it seemed strange to think that from one day to the next she was simply gone. I guess even Monarchs cannot outwit the reaper.

I did see the Queen once you know.

It was about twelve years ago, when I used to live in Melbourne and worked at a camping store called Ray’s Outdoors, right near the CBD on Elizabeth St. We knew the Queen was coming for a visit because it was all over the news for a few days before she landed. And sure enough, at some point during the day we heard the police sirens and there came the whole bloody ridiculous convoy of police cars and motorbikes and series of black SUVs. We figured something exciting was about to happen so we stood outside the shop and watched as vehicle after vehicle cruised past. And I noticed that one of the SUVs had the window rolled down in the back. And as that car drove past us on Elizabeth st, there was a flash of pink in that window and there was a burst of excitement that I could barely contain. “Guys, I think we just saw the bloody Queen!”. A second later, all the cars and the Queen were gone. And that was the closest I ever came to meeting the Queen of England.

Yet I did feel some sorrow at the news of her passing. She may not necessarily have been the completely benign monarch all the obituaries have been making her out to be, but neither was she a tyrant. And that goes a long way in my book.

May she rest in peace.

Boats anchored in the Channel. Sep 2022, Pentax MX, Portra 800.

Then came the massive stranding of the pilot whales on the west coast of Tasmania. It wasn’t until I saw a photograph of them all lined up on the beach that the news really hit home. These were all living, breathing mammals just a few days ago, and now they are decomposing bits of flesh.

What made them swim ashore? Did they all do it by accident, or on purpose? Is it possible that the whales decided to commit mass suicide for a reason we don’t understand? For a creature that’s incredibly intelligent, how can they all simultaneously make such a simple, but fatal error?

The mysterious nature of this mass stranding awakened questions for me that I know will be just about impossible to answer. Although through the course of the correct enquiry, one day the answers may be found.

May they rest in peace.

Little boat in Huon estuary. Sep 2022, Pentax MX, Portra 800.

And finally, I discovered the death of a friend this week.

Mathew Farrell, aged 42. He died when his solo aircraft went down in the Victorian Alps. He was an accomplished adventurer, filmmaker and all round good bloke.

I got acquainted with Mat during the making of Winter on the Blade, for he helped us with the more technical sides of the production. Mat was incredibly knowledgeable about so many things, and he was always willing to say yes and help out where he could. He lived a full life, and a good life. It seems so bizarre that he too, along with the Queen and along with the whales, is present no more.

May he rest in peace.

Pair of swans, Gordon. Sep 2022, Pentax MX, Portra 800.

-A.S. Lenah Valley 24/9/22

Spring

Spring, the time of year when the days catch up to the nights and eventually surpass them in length.

Spring flowers and poplar trees at dusk, Lenah Valley, Triple exposure, Hasselblad 500cm, Ektar 100. August 2022.

Spring, an elastic string that stores energy when stretched and returns to its original state when released.

Spring flowers in tree. Lenah Valley. Hasselblad 500cm, Ektar 100. August 2022.

Spring, a source of water, bubbling up from the Earth.

This photograph was actually taken in autumn. Central Highlands. Hasselblad 500cm, Ektar 100. May 2022.

Spring, to leap into action, to move forward suddenly.

Did someone just drop this big great boulder from the sky, and that’s why it cracked? Kunanyi, Hasselblad 500cm, Ektar 100, August 2022.

A.S. Lenah Valley 15/9/22.

Lost Worlds

The idea of a lost world that has not yet been discovered is captivating…

Misty morning at Lost World, kunanyi. Hasselblad 500cm, Ektar 100, Aug 2022.

The history of humanity is riddled with lost worlds. Empires rise and fall, people live and die and the great wheel keeps turning, day by day, year by year, aeon to aeon. The Pyramids of Giza in Egypt, the ruins of Machu Pichu in the Andes, the Acropolis of Athens and the Colosseus of Rome are all testaments to lost worlds. Worlds that have been and are no more. Although artifacts, histories and stories do remain. Some stories may or may not be true. Take the story of Atlantis. Here is the idea that there once existed a great civilization that has since been swallowed by the sea. It may be true or it may not be true, but the idea certainly captures the imagination. Is there any possibility that Atlantis has survived and has continued to function beneath the surface of the sea?

Young snowgum, misty cliffs. Hasselblad 500cm, Ektar 100, Aug 2022.

Before the era of satellites and before the entire surface of the Earth was mapped out with the use of remotely operated cameras, there was another idea that had captured the collective imagination. And this was the idea that somewhere in some unexplored part of the globe, there may exist a group of people that have never been in contact with western civilization. A land and people that have never been ‘discovered’. A world that is parallel to our own, yet separate from it. This has been the premise of many fictional novels and movies; the idea that a ‘lost’ world may exist simultaneously alongside our own. What would its people be like and what could we learn from them? And what would the fate of these people be, once the ‘modern’ world has made contact with them?

Soft light at Lost World, kunanyi. Hasselblad 500cm, Ektar 100, Aug 2022.

We now live in a world where secrets are becoming scarce. Unexplored places are dwindling, and nowhere is safe from the curious, prying eyes of our interlinked civilization. Perhaps a lost world does exist out there somewhere. Perhaps the thylacine still roams the land. Perhaps this belief is simply wishful thinking.

But even if there are no more parallel human worlds to discover, there are all the lost worlds that have been and are no more. And no matter how hard we try, we won’t ever uncover all the secrets of these lost worlds that have been and have since passed into oblivion.

A.S. -Lenah Valley 10/9/22

There is a place between you and me

This place may be a vast lake that appears to be featureless.

Ripples on lake in fog. Pentax MX, Portra 800, August 2021.

But what appears to be featureless space may reveal patterns upon close inspection.

Beam of light, tracks through the snow. Olympus Em-1, July 2016.

Space is emptiness, but contains everything within it.

Windy treetops, dolerite cliffs. Pentax MX, Ektar 100, July 2022.

We have no connection to space; as far as we know, it doesn’t exist.

Frozen snowgums, dolerite scree. Pentax MX, Ektar 100, July 2022.

It is through connection, that space turns into place, from holding no meaning, to meaning everything.

Ice veins in dolerite. Pentax MX, Ektar 100.

There is a place for us that comes from the space between you and me.

Frozen dolerite guardian. Pentax MX, Ektar 100, July 2022.

If we pay close attention and take notice of the features of space, if we imbue it with meaning, then we can turn space into place, which we can both inhabit, whomever you or I may be.

Gateway. Pentax MX, Ektar 100, July 2022.

A.S. 1/9/22, Lenah Valley

Nothing but the truth...

The truth has a way of coming to light.

‘Frozen Throne’, Pentax MX, Ektar 100. July 2022.

In some cases the truth can remain hidden, but it comes at a great cost to the person who does the hiding.

‘Dawn, Mt Field West’. Pentax MX, Ektar 100. July 2022.

Truth does not assert itself; but it has a way of making itself known at the least convenient moment for the truth withholder. People can bend the truth, but it has a way of bending back towards its origin. If it’s been twisted, it returns to its original shape. And though it may return to its original state, the truth remembers. It remembers all the knots, twists and turns in itself, as it’s been retold, altered; coerced into moulds it was never meant for.

‘Wind patterns in snow’. Pentax MX, Ektar 100. July 2022.

The truth is not slippery, it is solid. It doesn’t change. It stays the same.

What we believe to be truth can change though. What we hold to be true is different among cultures and across the ages. The truth has always been the same, but our perception of it has certainly changed and is indeed changing in this very moment.

Truth is difficult to pin down, yet it is always there, present. Waiting to be found.

‘Stack of frozen boulders’. Pentax MX, Ektar 100. July 2022.

Truth; what a curious thing it is.

-A.S. 27/8/22 -Lenah Valley

Patching the Patch

Is it broken if it has a big crack in it?

Whale rock and snowgum on kunanyi. Pentax MX, Ektar 100, August 2022.

Well, if it is a bone in the body and it has a crack in it, it is said to be broken, fractured. But there are many different kinds of fractures. Some are hairline cracks in our bones, which heal on their own, given sufficient rest and support. Other fractures need surgical help. Most breaks in our bones heal with time. However, the broken bone that’s healed is not the same bone as before. Forever there will remain a line of weakness in it.

Most things that break in the bush are not bones, but personal items people carry with them. Buckles, straps, stitching, plastic clips can all break, glue can give way with time. Things that are deemed essential items wear with use and one day, fail. Often, the problems these failures cause are tragic and hilarious at the same time.

Mossy boulder field, kunanyi. Pentax MX, Ektar 100, August 2022.

When an essential part of our kit breaks in the bush, whether it’s our stove conking out or our tent pole snapping in the wind, it can be a great cause of frustration to the user of the essential item, and potentially quite a bit of mirth for the surrounding party members. I’ll never forget the day when my friend David forgot to bring his tent pole to a bush doof and instead he used a supple branch with the leaves on it as substitute. His tent didn’t look quite right, and there was quite a bit of foliage in the vestibule, but it was a whole lot better than it would have been without the branch. At least the tent was standing.

I’ve seen soles of boots peel off, to be held on for the remaining five days of the trip through the wilderness with duct tape and cable ties. I have broken the bolt on the waistbelt of my pack by overloading my WE Lost World with 42 kg on our way out to Federation Peak and watched in amazement as my friend Dan Pan the handy-man lashed the waistbelt back on with metres of 3mm cord. Other times, I’ve been grateful for adhesive patches to repair my broken sleeping mattress so I could get a good night’s rest.

A basic repair kit containing knife, lighter, tape, cord, cable-ties, patches and glue will go a long way to solve a lot of unexpected problems we may encounter out in the bush.

Snowgum forest and boulder field, kunanyi. Pentax MX, Ektar 100, August 2022.

The most susceptible item to break in the Tassie bush is our clothing.

The scrub in the sub-alpine regions tends to be woody and it doesn’t break and it doesn’t bend. And most of it is rather sharp and prickly. Things tend to get snagged on it. Woolen long johns will get shredded within hours. Gaiters, boots and sturdy pants are essential. Although there is a story of Olegas Truchanas walking out from the Serpentine River after he lost his kayak and all his gear including his pants down a waterfall, by stepping through the arms of his raincoat. So pants are not essential but come highly recommended.

Pants tend to wear out on the bottom and the knees. These are the places that are most likely to get holes in them. So if we can reinforce, or patch these areas on our garments, we can extend the lifetime of our clothing many times over.

Scoparia, the bushwalkers friend and foe. Pentax MX, Ektar 100, February 2022.

So if our item has a hole in it, it’s worth having a crack at patching it. Tears in puffy jackets can be repaired by applying an adhesive patch, or silicon gel and a patch. A jumper can be darned or knitted, and pants can have patches sewn on them. It’s a bit of work, but I wear my patches with pride. Just because something has a hole in it, it doesn’t mean it’s broken. Just how our bone can heal after a fracture, our clothes can heal too, they just need our help.

Mist on kunanyi… Pentax MX, Ektar 100, August 2022.

But there comes a time when the patch, no matter how resilient, gets a hole in it.

In this case, should we patch the patch?

The answer is up to you, my dear reader. In theory there is no limit to how many patches we can put over each other to cover a hole. However, if a garment contains more patches than original material, it might be time to let go.

Or it might be time to find another patch.

-A.S. Lenah Valley, 21/8/22.

Afternoon light across the Cracroft Plains (burnt in 2019). Pentax MX, Ektar 100, Feb 2022.

Accumulation

A rolling stone gathers no moss. But if a stone is rolling, it has gathered momentum.

It is hard to go through life without a process of accumulating possessions, habits, knowledge, experience, among other things. Some people accumulate wealth, some accumulate junk in their backyard, some people accumulate cars, others bikes. Some people accumulate friends, others enemies. Some people accumulate healthy habits, others destructive habits. Regardless of what it is, we all accumulate.  

We gather the things and habits that we want to have in our lives and discard the things and habits we do not wish to have. This slow process, although taken in little steps and gradually over time, has a lot to say about who we are and what we have become.

Our actions result in an accumulation of momentum that carries us forward. The gymnast will be flexible, strong and agile, as a result of their training. The musician will notice when someone is singing out of tune. The accountant will know when the numbers don’t add up. The mother knows when her baby is hungry. As our experience accumulates, it shapes our character and comes to define how we respond to certain situations.

The nature of accumulation is that it occurs in incremental steps that are barely noticeable. Cancer, the chronic disease of our age does not grow overnight. It’s a response that develops in our bodies after a trigger has been consistently present for a long time. Or take one of the great addictions of this ‘Great Southern Land’: alcoholism. It’s not going to destroy our liver if we get on it every now and then. But if we drink a considerable amount of alcohol every day, we are working our liver a bit harder than it needs to, every day. And with time, this may take its toll.

We are not immune to our habits. It’s easy to think that our daily actions have minimal effect in our overall trajectory. But this belief ignores the concept of accumulation. Lots of little steps lead to big steps.

 The idea is easy enough to understand, but can prove difficult to take into consideration day to day, because the consequences of our habits are not immediately obvious. This is why accumulation is the invisible governor of our lives.

-A.S. 9/8/22, Lenah Valley

When there are no words left

Sometimes, our words run out. We wish to say more, but we have no words left. This doesn’t mean that there are no words, simply that we cannot voice them in that particular moment. But with a bit of persistence, and the appropriate intent, the words can eventually be found.

Some weeks, the content for the Scribbleton Post pours out of my head and into my fingertips, click, click, click and away I type on the keyboard. The words appear on the screen and they spell out a clear and coherent story. There is minimal need for further edits. The post is scheduled and goes out on Sunday, and I get to relax for about five days, until it’s time to write the next Scribbleton Post (previously ‘Mountains of Tasmania’).

Other weeks, the words that appear are in total disarray. They are jumbled up, multiple ideas entwined, entrenched, inseparable. It’s a bit like untangling the Gordian Knot. The only way to do it is to cut through it. This is when I scrap the post and start again. Thankfully, this doesn’t happen very often.

Regardless of what kind of a week it is, there is only one rule I have given myself.

And the rule is, The Scribbleton Post goes out every Sunday morning. That is my commitment to you, my dear readers, and to myself as a writer. Even if this means that The Post is a bit scraggly from time to time. It’s better if it goes out a bit scraggly than if it doesn’t go out at all.

Earlier this year, when we were away on a bike tour with Patty K. and I had no access to my computer for four weeks, I scheduled the Post six weeks ahead and I asked a friendly bot to send the post out for me. It wasn’t me. I was bike touring! But the Post still went out.

Bon Apetit, to this week’s photographs, taken on the Pentax MX, on our trip to the Central Plateau in August 2020 with my good friend, Patty K.

-A.S. Lenah Valley, 6/8/22