Selling: Elizabeth Bay #2

Shortly after last week's post on the fabulous waterfront apartment in Elizabeth Bay for sale with McGrath, Belle Property have listed a little brother version next door.

In theory, this apartment lets you can drop a kayak into the harbour from your living room, go for a paddle, and come back for an espresso on the deck before strolling to work.

In reality, I know that even with such an amazing view, I'd still wake up as late as possible, pee in the shower to save a few minutes, and rush out the door with a piece of cold toast in hand, and odd socks on my feet. At least I could enjoy the view on the weekends, though.

Predicted to sell for around $790,000, this little gem is a relatively affordable way to get a coveted harbour setting. So forget about global warming and rising seas for a while, hop in your kayak, and enjoy!

Looking: Maps as art

I love maps. Always have. For as long as I can remember, sketching maps has helped me survive countless exams, boring church services, and slow days at work. On long car trips, I would browse the street directory, following our journey and trying to guess what the destination would be like. I quickly learnt that straight lines equal flat terrain, wobbly lines mean it's either hilly or an old part of town, and sphaghetti shapes probably means it's going to be a newer McMansion suburb. I also learnt that the messier the map looks, the worse the traffic will be (take Sydney or London as a case in point).


I haven't quite figured out why I love them so much. It could be the sense of discovery; the sense of finding somewhere new. Maybe it invokes a desire to travel and explore new places, a sort of abstract armchair travel. Perhaps it's simply a subconscious effort to escape wherever I am at that particular moment. Or it could just be that I like the look of them.

Several artists find maps similarly inspiring. The above work, Matrix by Emma Johnson, creates deconstructed maps using recycled materials, symbolising the tangible yet ambiguous nature of communication and transportation networks.

Another example is the late Burt Hasen, who was a soldier in World War II. Hasen's time spent reading maps on the field inspired him to spend the rest of his life creating cartographic art, such as Convulsive Coupling (below).

Thinking: Landfill

It's hot in Sydney. Maybe not as hot as Melbourne but still hot. Hot enough to lose sleep at night if you don't have the luxury of air-con, or the poor man's equivalent, a fan. So I bought one for the princely sum of $12.59.

Once I finished interpreting the chinglish assembly instructions, and recovering from a flying nut that flew out when I first turned the thing on, I began to feel guilty. Guilty with the knowledge that, one day, that fan will end up in landfill, along with the hundreds of other fans that were running out the door today at Target.

The environment has been on my mind since watching a recent episode of the brilliant Mad Men. Set in the 1950s, the show often depicts things you just don't see any more, like smoking housewives, black maids, and the like. In this episode, the Draper family are having a picnic. When they decide to leave, they simply shake their rubbish-laden picnic rug onto the lawn, jump into their Oldsmobile, and drive off.

For some reason, this really shocked me, that people from my parents generation used to do this to our planet. My first reaction was that it was unsophisticated, even primitive, but I quickly realised that in almost 60 years, we haven't changed that much. We were trashing our planet in the 50s with debris from our picnics, and we rubbish it today with twelve dollar fans from China.

And what's even worse is that I try to relieve my guilt by blogging about it, like somehow it negates the fact that I am also part of this unstoppable beast.

Designing: When architects become their city

For a select few architects, their work somehow becomes indistinguishable from the city itself. While they may practice in many cities, their work always conveys a particular setting. Think of Norman Foster in London (so very nouveau British), Richard Neutra in Los Angeles (total LA cool), Denton Corker Marshall in Melbourne (all those sticks!).

In Sydney, we have many beautiful and iconic works by leading architects such as Jorn Utzon, BKH, Allen Jack+Cottier and Alex Popov. But there are only two architects that, to me, truly represent this city's character - Harry Seidler and Engelen Moore.

Harry Seidler pioneered the Bauhaus movement in Sydney and, in fact, Australia, with his unapologetically modernist Blues Point Tower (1961), Australia Square (1967) and MLC Centre (1975). In his recent, Horizon (1998) and Cove (1999) apartment buildings, Seidler continued to demonstrate this ethos. Seidler died in 2006 but he has made an indelible mark on this city.

Engelen Moore were founded in 1995 with the partnership of Tina Engelen and Ian Moore. They disbanded just over 10 years later, but their apartment buildings such as Altair, Barcom Avenue, 150 Liverpool Street and The Grid - which are all located within a few blocks of each other - convey the essence of Sydney like no other. Variously described as 'functionalist', 'international' and 'minimalist', their work focuses on light, air and environment, just like Sydney itself. Ross Honeysett's photography beautifully illustrates this concept.

As both Seidler and Engelen Moore are no longer practicing, the question arises: who will take their place? Who will become the next architect to convey what Sydney in the 21st century is all about?

Selling: Elizabeth Bay

Sydney has thousands of apartments with harbour views, but there are not many that get as close to the water's edge as this gem at 1/79 Elizabeth Bay Road, Elizabeth Bay.

It's currently listed through McGrath. I see it from across the harbour every evening while walking the dog and have always thought it is such a special site - with the blue expanse of Sydney Harbour rolling off the balcony.

I have no idea what the asking price is but the auction on February 28 will reveal how many buyers in Sydney are still in the market for a premium waterfront property in these "difficult times". If that is you, you could potentially pick it up for a steal. The rest of us, sigh, will have to keep on dreaming.

Looking: Darren Wardle

"it's like another perfect day... I love LA" - Randy Newman

Me too. Sure, LA's a sprawling, crime-ridden metropolis with vapid people and insane traffic, but I like it because it is, more than anything else, a microcosm of the world. Everyone you've ever met, every movie you've watched, every joke you've laughed at, and every tragedy that has made you shed a tear, has been put into one huge blender and poured across a concrete valley. There's nowhere else quite like it.

Darren Wardle is a Melbourne artist whose airbrushed, 80s-inspired artworks reference LA and other 'car cities' such as Las Vegas and, to a lesser extent, Melbourne and Sydney. His hypercolour, saturated and overexposed images are meticulously detailed and devoid of any human presence. His work depicts an artificial, almost dream-like world where perfection is both alluring and repelling. Kind of like LA, actually.

Wardle is represented by Sullivan+Strumpf in Sydney, and Nellie Castan Gallery in Melbourne.

Riding: Light Lanes

I've always liked the idea of riding to work, shops, movies, anywhere really. We have the perfect climate for cycling, as well as terrible traffic problems and a dwindling supply of fossil fuels. Yet for some reason the imbiciles that govern our city and state have spent more time building road tunnels they can't afford, rather than seriously invest in safe cycling (and public transport, for that matter, but that's another post for another time). As a result, the closest I've come to cycling in Sydney is last night's spinning class.

So what's a rider to do? Like everything important in life, if you want something done properly, you need to do it yourself. So Altitude's Alex Tee and Evan Gant came up with the Light Lane: a laser-powered bike lane that projects from follows you wherever you go. So you don't need to wait for the schmuks on Macquarie Street to get their act together. Ingenious!

Thanks to Two Thousand for the tip.

Thinking: Suicide Towers

Suicide Towers, originally uploaded by traffman.

I've been following the troubles at the 'Three M's' estate in Rosemeadow, on Sydney's outskirts, with great interest over the past couple of weeks. It always fascinates me whether people are a product of their environment, or whether the environment is actually a product of the people.

This photo was taken in the centre of Redfern, where 41.6% of residents live in public housing, according to the 2006 census. Most live in high-density buildings with deceptively quaint names such as James Cook, Joseph Banks, Marton and Turanga.

These buildings, along with Northcott Towers in nearby Surry Hills, were bold social experiments from the 60s, where slums were cleared and residents were moved into new, affordable housing close to work opportunities in Sydney's CBD. Poorly resourced, with inadequate police and community facilities, these grand plans soon turned into a hotbed of violent crime, mental illness and illicit drugs. But in 2006, Northcott became first public housing estate in the world to be recognised as a "safe community" by the World Health Organisation. Brendan Fletcher's excellent documentary 900 Neighbours profiles the huge effort between residents and the wider community that resulted in their building being turned around.

The Three M's estate was developed about 15 years after the Surry Hills and Redfern projects, and was based on the idealistic Radburn Plan, first implemented in Fair Lawn, New Jersey. The concept was to separate traffic and pedestrians by flipping houses so garages face the street and the main house faces a communal parkland at the back, which in turn pioneered the cul-de-sac, that universally adopted symbol of suburbia. What it has meant in Three M's, however, has been isolation and a lack of security and privacy.

Yet other Radburn-based developments, such as Milgate Park Estate in Doncaster East, Melbourne, many parts of Canberra, and even Thurgoona, where I grew up, have not experienced the same social ills as Rosemeadow. So what went wrong at Three M's? Surely if a huge building like Northcott Towers can reinvent itself, it can't be too hard for three suburban streets?

Clicking: Uncyclopedia

In primary school, there was a kid who everyone used to tease for spending his lunch times reading encyclopedias in the library. Of course I joined in the teasing, being very careful to not reveal a deep, dark secret to my friends: that after school, in the safety of my own bedroom, I also enjoyed getting lost in the foreign, exotic worlds contained in the pages of these wonderful books.

Lexicon was my preferred brand at the time, as it had colour pictures and a more contemporary, American flavour than the stuffy old Oxfords they had at school. In high school, I swiftly moved into the digital age with Microsoft's Encarta, which had interactive stories and videos which I spent hours exploring.

Since those days I've used the convenient but unreliable Wikipedia as my main source of research. Which is why I was so excited when I discovered Uncyclopedia.

I only discovered the site recently while browsing travel destinations in Canada. I thought I was on Wikipedia and was interested to read that "Oscar Wilde actually had his first homosexual experience in Vancouver, leading to the town's well-beloved nickname 'That place where Oscar Wilde rendez-vouzed with 12 dudes at the same time'". Saucy...

Then I noticed the appeal from Uncyclopedia Mother Codeine's Mum, the site rules (1: Be funny, not just stupid; 2: Don't be a dick), and the potato puzzle logo and I realised that I wasn't in Kansas anymore.

This site is serious fun. With just the right amount of cheek, it really more informative and insightful than Wikipedia. I tested this site by researching some places that I'm familiar with,
and within a few minutes I learnt that "Sydney is loosely translated from the native Aboriginal language as "Atlanta with a harbour"" (so true) and that Melbourne has the lowest crime rate in Australia due to the continued presence of the city's founder, Batman (not to mention that the majority of "suss people" spend 6 months of the year in stadiums watching football). Too funny.

Uncyclopedia makes encyclopedias cool. Had the site been around during my childhood, I think that kid in the library wouldn't have been teased, and I would have been able to come out and announce to the world that I, too, like to read encyclopedias. I mean, it even has swear words! How cool is that?!

Laughing: Family Fun

Every time I pass the Sydney Monorail I think what a stupid structure it is. Especially when it's raining and it splashes greasy water onto my white shirt.

Apparently not everyone shares my disdain for the single track. The Pedersens from Niles, California have set up a monorail system in their own backyard complete with a station named Kitchen View.


Now when I was a kid, we used our backyard to play with the dog, shoot some hoops, or maybe set up a BMX track. And don't get me wrong - I truly believe the guy who said, "the family that plays together, stays together". But a grown woman riding a miniature monorail in the backyard (wearing that dress) is something that definitely should be kept in the privacy of one's own home.

Here "mommy" takes a spin:


In this pic, Jr. takes a ride while daddy soaks in the spa. As Mr Pedersen says himself, "this picture just screams 'only in America', doesn't it?" Indeed...

Looking: Wasteland

Wasteland, originally uploaded by traffman.

Untitled Urbanscape 5, Mauren Brodbeck 2004/2005

Untitled Urbanscape 9, Mauren Brodbeck 2004/2005

I've always admired the photography of Mauren Brodbeck, particularly the Untitled Urbanscape and Cityscape series which so brilliantly captures that sense of hopelessness and domination that one feels from bad architecture.

But, having not learnt the art of digital photo manipulation yet, I have to make do with taking photos of what I see. So I was delighted when I came across this brilliant blue wall in an abandoned car park on Parramatta Road somewhere near Granville.