Colour. Situated.
A documentary about my attempts to alter the perception of structures and their environments
by introducing an unsuspecting colour gradient.
The documentary is in the form of a photo gallery, supported by a written narrative.
The documentary is in the form of a photo gallery, supported by a written narrative.
Location 1 - Donald McLean Reserve, Spotswood
Location 2 - Stoney Creek, Yarraville
Location 4 - West Gate Bridge Memorial Park, Newport.
(Failed attempt)
Location 3 - Riverside Park, Newport
(Failed attempt)
Colour. Situation.
Each location has its own unique story; stories which can be told through the perspectives of those who look upon it, utilise it, and potentially alter it....
West Gate Bridge
Memorial Park, Newport.
Raring to go, excited at the fact that we are painting tonight, I head over to Zarnies in Footscray with Brad. We brief Zarnie and Rory about the mission, telling them it will be super chill. They are keen to go.
Having previously scoped out the situation we are quietly confident that all will be good and that getting to the spot will be effortless. This was not to be the case, in fact it was the opposite. The tide has risen, meaning the barbed wire fence we were going to walk around is now pretty much underwater, leading us to climb around it; a misstep will send us falling into the slimy germ-riddled water that is the Yarra river.
Zarnie, with a slurpee in hand, is the last to complete the obstacle. Sick, smooth sailing from here I think to myself. Once again, this was not to be the case. Another fence that we hadn’t seen appeared in front of us, this time we are able to walk around it.
We finally arrive at the shipping container. Brad and I start painting as Rory goes to asses the security situation further up the river bank. No more than two minutes in, headlights illuminate the container. The initial shock of this intrusion stunted the three of us, panic sets in. Brad and I pack our bags with paint as fast as possible then hit the legs. We make it past the first fence and take a second to look back. Zarnie is nowhere to be seen. ‘Fuck” I think to myself; Brad and I look at each other. ‘Run, just run’ one of us says. We climb around the second fence in record time, not noticing the potential fate that would ensue if we fell.
I run straight to the Swift that is parked around the corner. In my haste I’ve lost Brad. I get in and speed off.
Driving around the west, I try getting in contact with anyone I can, this is hard as I am out of calling credit, I text Brad, Zarnie and Rory the same thing, ‘Call me’. I get a call from Rory and he explains how he was chased and had to run well over 2km, jumping multiple fences, and is now over by the train tracks near Newport station, I tell him to sit tight and I will be there soon to pick him up.
Brad then calls. He’s out the back of Science Works, telling me that he saw Zarnie getting put in the back of the securities car. My heart drops. I speed over to Science Works to pick him up. The dog was lying, Zarnie was with him the whole time. We cruise over to pick Rory up, the mood is intense, we are all crazy pumped up and ready to debrief.
Donald McLean Reserve, Spotswood
I cruised over in the Swift to pick up Harry as he was going to accompany me to paint the spotty shack. He informed me that Yichi (his roommate) was to join us. Yichi,
an international student, was dressed up in a turquoise suit for the occasion. We headed out, parking across the football ground from the shack; bags packed; cameras ready. We hopped the fence and chatted as we walked.
I started to paint; all was good. I heard Harry telling Yichi to get out of the way of a long exposure shot he was trying to take.
Stupidly I forgot to pack extra spray caps so I found myself on hands and knees crawling around the grass searching for extras that I may have tossed earlier, instructing Harry to do the same.
I find one and finish the piece, eager to return the next day to see the fruits of
my labor.
Riverside Park, Newport
It’s two in the morning at 118 Hall Street Newport, Brad and I have waited until just the right time to head out on our expedition. The paint and the brushes are packed and we have talked over the plan to co-exist in the painting of the big wall. We head out in the Magna, I drop Brad off with all the gear. I then speed off to park the Magna around the corner, rushing back to get to Brad so we can start.
No one can see us, we feel confident. Things are going well. Suddenly we flee in panic leaving all the paint as a car pulls up at the location. We run to a gate but it’s locked, we hide next to a pipe, army crawling alongside it to evade the potential security guards. Hearts beating faster than ever, we crawl through stinging nettle and over rocky terrain, we then stop and assess the situation. We haven’t seen any movement out of the car since it arrived, this puzzles us. After a nervous half an hour of watching we conclude that the car wasn’t security, just a couple fucking.
We wait and chat, laughing at the situation we’ve found ourselves in; relaxing in the grass 100 meters from the car watching silhouette figures messing around in the darkness of the night. As time passes amusement turns to irritation, we know they will see us if we continue painting. After an hour and a half we make the decision to army crawl back to the structure, grab the paint and run.
Stoney Creek, Yarraville.
Brad and I debated about what time we would leave to paint at Stoney Creek; in the low light earlier in the evening we passed the cylinder on the train assessing whether or not anyone would notice us there; to our pleasant surprise we could hardly see the cylinder at all. So earlier than usual, straight after dinner, we packed the tinnies and headed out, parking across the river from the structure.
We bush bashed our way through the neck high shrub that lines the river; half way to the cylinder a shadow of what seemed like a big dog sprinted towards us vanishing into the shrubbery, this made us get a move on, we crossed the river, went up the hill and finally made it to the cylinder.
Once there, in this relaxing and tranquil setting we sat back and watched trains pass, picking out individual faces, knowing they would never be able to see us. We finished the painting in under half an hour and I was home in bed by 10.30.
