SPECIAL PLACE # 11
Wally Tate Park, Kuraby.Enter the Park opposite 72 Besline St, continue along the path to the right until you see an old playground and BBQ/bench/picnic area, walking from the path between the play ground and the picnic area diagonally to the right, you should find the opening to what I believe is a part of Slacks creek (I’m not entirely sure though~)
Years ago when I was a little girl, still in primary school, my best friend and I would ride our bikes all around our street after school.
One day we decided to go to a part of the street we never went to, we rode our bikes, far away from our houses, all the way down to the end of the street. There was a park there and behind the park there was a forest. We had never realised it was there ‘till now; and being the inquisitive and curious children we were we wondered in to explore.
As we approached past the small abandoned play ground we started to hear the gurgle of a river, excited we found a small opening in the long grass and weeds and pushed through.
What we saw was amazing and I will forever remember to this day what I witnessed. The stream ran across our path into the forest in both directions, the area tinted by the lush green of the canopy of tree branches mixed with vines and flowers. The canopy seemed to reach over to touch the other smaller trees and bushes we had just made our way through just to make a special room, cut off from the rest of the world, just for me and my best friend. A place I imagined fairies would have lived as it gave off that kind of magical ambiance you would find in a fairy tale book.
Because of the thick canopy, the earth underneath was bare but dry. So we sat next to the river and watched the tadpoles and small fish swim up and down as we listened to the bubbling of the stream; after a while we decided to keep exploring, we followed the river down stream, to the South. the further we went, the less river bed we were able to walk on so we eventually were forced to step into the cool clear water.
It was a wonderful sensation, the soft clay river bed squishing between our toes and clouds of dust erupting from out foot fells.
we continued down the stream until we reached a small bend, almost a hiccup in the flow of the water. Contorting around a tree that stubbornly grew in the path of the creek, its’ roots causing a small waterfall to be formed, we had to clamber up the steep sides of the bank as the clay dirt began to consist more of sand and was more easily eroded by the water.
Sitting next to that tree with the stream bending around us, the trickle of the waterfall and the small amount of sun shining, letting through just enough light to clearly see to the bottom of the suddenly deep water (opposite side we approached from).
That moment was bliss to me at the time.
Though unfortunately cut short as we soon realised the dimming light of the sun, we quickly burst out of the shrubbery, muddy; wet, and with an almost enchanted feeling leaving that place. We raced to where we had left our bikes and sped home.
We came back to that place every second day, and then later on in the years; but it soon was modernised, cut back and finally developed.
But not too long after that, I realised that the creek continued, and so I followed, and found even better things beyond.
SPECIAL PLACE # 6
The trees to the left of the ampitheatre at the top of Roma Street Parklands.
I walked with Danny from Herston coming out at the top side of Roma Street Parklands . It was dark and hot. He was tired from chemo. I was mesmerised. Alison Moyet’s song ‘Is this Love’ played in my mind repeating itself through my entire body, coming out in goosebumps and deep halting breaths. He lay still on his back looking through the trees canopy into the night sky, barely breathing. I needed him to love me and he was just tolerating me.
19 years later, it is dark and drizzling wet. Danny is gone. The tree has gone, damaged in a storm. Which tree was it again? I found someone else who loves me, someone who needs me.
SPECIAL PLACE # 5
Samford Rd, from Samford to Mount Glorious.
5 months ago my family and I relocated from Sydney to Brisbane. We were looking to change our life, to swap the hectic for the quiet, the cramped and crowded for the green and sparse. This move led us to Ferny Grove, a suburb on the outskirts of Brisbane. On one side of us is the city of Brisbane and the other is the beginning of the countryside. During my first weeks here I spent much of the time driving away from the city and into the direction of the country along Samford Rd. This is the road to Mount Glorious, a mountain which slowly appears as the houses disappear and farmland and bush takes over. It has become the proverbial breath of fresh air and symbolises the space and connection with nature that we were seeking when leaving Sydney.
SPECIAL PLACE # 9
A windy alley between an old church and school building.
My best friends and I called this place ‘Windy Alley’ - a name which has been passed on through the generations of students from the Catholic School which it was a part of. Its a humble space with three water fountains. A quiet wind consistently blows from the sea breeze close by.
This place is a time portal and archive of my life. I have continued to return to this place during every stage of my life. As I walk through the alley, which spans only 10 meters - I walk down the 27 years of my time in Brisbane. I was once a young boy who sang in the church and played games at the school. I am now a young man who reflects on his past to find his future.
I hope that one day, when I’m gone ; someone walks through this windy alley and feels my entire life’s memories in one fleeting moment…and I hope they smile.
SPECIAL PLACE # 3
Christian Street, Clayfield, Brisbane. Turn right at the bottom of Batman Street and it’s opposite the house with the big arse fence.
My special place, even though it is a bit of a weird shit hole is the Riverton Centre. Fondly named the Rivie. It’s been abandoned since I was little but from what I can glean, it used to be a sleep clinic for mums and kids; and it didn’t get particularly rave reviews in its heyday. The only vivid memory of it being in operation is one night while brushing my teeth like a good girl, we heard this intense wailing on the street. Turned out it was a mother and her kid had run away.
Anyway, the number of times comrades and I have been attacked by spiders and cobwebs exploring there is countless but obviously we never learn. Like any abandoned hole, it’s not known for its well kept grassy lawn. The phrase “Do I go to the Riverton Centre?” has been casually paralleled with the question “Do I have AIDS?” It holds an air of mystery and intrigue among a generation of neighbourhood kids. Once two exploration teams ran into each other in the side alley of the building resulting in one of the parties (the one I was in) to run away squealing like ninnies.
One of my more fonder memories in recent times when I had to make a quick escape through the length of the Rivie into the adjourning street after being harangued by a bunch of males. This escape was executed in the dark. In rollerblades. Not as exciting as it sounds though
You can see inside, the security system is still running even after 7 years and everything in the rooms is eerily untouched. If you need somewhere to chill it also has a park bench for munging into hot chips.
Its better features include a catacomb under the carpark, a working doorbuzzer and lights that turn on every single night without fail. As well as being a creepy waste of electricity it also doubles as a great place for photoshoots and awkward unfinished forays into street art involving acrylic paint and an unnecessary amount of glitter.
I’ve always dreamt of smashing it open and turning it into a hangout. Apparently it’s getting turned into apartments. Regardless, it’s our spesh place for now, albeit a creepy as hell one.
The following pieces of work were created by Slovenian arts collective KOLEKTIVA in response to stories from Brisbane people.
