If you live in a city, there are few places where you can be alone. In Sydney, I like to go to Waverley Cemetery, a 41-acre site opened in 1877. Perched on a cliff by the ocean, it occupies some of Sydney’s more desirable real estate. It’s especially quiet now that the section of the coastal path that skirts it has been closed due a landslip. You can sit by the deserted walkway and look out to sea or along the coast, with often not another person in sight. It is as serene as the faces of these stone angels.
Sculpture by the Sea is on again in Sydney. Apparently, it’s the world’s largest free sculpture exhibition, and it runs along the coast from Bondi Beach (where I live) to Tamarama Beach. Two friends and I braved the inevitable hordes of people today to check out this year’s offerings. It was a beautiful early summer day, with a cloudless sky and a temperature around 26C (79F), and ocean breezes to take the edge off the sun.
Remembering that this week’s theme is curves or rounded, I was on the lookout for a sculpture with no straight lines.
Finally, towards the end of our walk, we came across this one. A sensous swirl of curves twining around itself, with no beginning and no end.
And if you’re wondering why I titled this post “The Indivisible Curves”, it’s because the piece is called “Indivisible.”
When I get my other photos sorted, I’ll post about some of this year’s other sculptures. You can see my other related posts from previous years here.
As the caption above says, here is an ordinary reading lamp. You may have one at home, on your desk or on a table beside your favourite reading chair. Those bendy arms are so convenient for getting the light in just the right place.
But, through the magic of scale manipulation, the lamp shrinks! This book looms over it.
And how many ordinary reading lamps can hang over the top of a Kindle?
Clever shots, you may think, but not achieved through forced perspective or other photography tricks. This is no ordinary reading lamp: it’s actually a miniature. The book and Kindle are full size. (And I really do hang the lamp over the Kindle, it’s very useful!)
(I hope you’ll forgive the bit of shameless self-promotion: the featured books are two of my own novels written under my pen name of Elizabeth Krall.)
I live in an apartment building on Campbell Parade, the street that curves along Sydney’s famous Bondi Beach. Any dwelling along the road that has a beach view is prime property indeed! I, however, live at the back of my building — much quieter, and with sweeping “district views”. One wall in my bathroom does face the beach, though it does not have a window (just as well, really, because on the other side of that wall is the foyer/lobby area for my floor!).
So I gave myself a view. I took a photo of the beach, slipped it behind a graphic of a window frame (complete with pot plant on the window ledge) and had it printed as a large poster. Then I put it on the wall, and for the finishing touch added real curtains.
Hey presto! I too now have the coveted Bondi Beach view.
(btw, the peach-painted wall is the landlord’s idea, not mine!)
When I read that the theme for this week’s photo challenge is layered, only one thing popped into my head: cake! (Though to be honest, cake needs little prompting to pop into my head.) So I stopped by my local bakery on the way home (the dangerously tempting Wellington Cake Shop on Bondi Road) for a slice of something layered.
I ended up buying two — the second one purely as a backup, for photographic purposes, of course. Just look at these cakes: tiramisu (above) and hazelnut (below). The richly textured cake layers with their flecks of nuts and chocolate, the silken melt-in-your-mouth creaminess of the filling. Oh my.
I spent a few hours at Lamy train station, waiting for the westbound Southwest Chief to take me from Santa Fe, New Mexico to Williams, Arizona (for the Grand Canyon). It was hot. It was dusty. It was endless.
Every now and then, the station master would add a new figure to the ETA post-it note.
Peering down the rails. Still nothing. Still waiting.