Dunedin, City of the Rat King

Fellers,

How are you? Well, I hope. World news seems more harrowing all the time: the cyclone in Myanmar; the tornados in the central U.S., and today- a huge earthquake in China! I think of you wherever you are and check your cities off one by one: New York City- safe. San Francisco- safe. And so on… New Zealand takes comfort in being far removed from the world’s madness, far removed and self-contained (at least this sentiment is expressed on talk radio, what do you think, Anj and Dean?). Nevertheless, I hear more from media and people in conversation about the precarious state of global resources and economy than I ever heard in the U.S. It’s relentless and depressing. Are these topics assuming primacy where you are?

I also want to mention that the U.S. presidential race is getting daily coverage here, and is a topic of immense interest. Obama is favored, for the same reason that he is appealing to people there. I have faith that he will win (though I haven’t forgotten the disappointment of 2004). The question is how far he can go in mending the damage done, and how decisively he can prepare for the future?

RIGHT, a-HEM. The present. Dunedin. I must apologize for taking so long to write. Besides cooking in a real kitchen and playing with Garageband I’m not sure where the time went. But I’m paying the price. I’ve accumulated so many photographs that I want to share, and some sort of text should go with each… I’ve set myself up for a lot of work!

I formed dreamy impressions about Dunedin long before I came here, back in the 1980s, when I first heard The Clean and The Chills. This music managed to be pastoral and punk at the same time. It had an under-produced sound, the opposite of the bloated synthetic production of the day (which has dated so badly) that added to its strong sense of personality.

The music was powerfully evocative of a place- rolling hills, clouds, rain (The Chills), of music preformed live in a small room, right in your face (The Clean). These bands from Dunedin (and there were others, all with varying degrees of the same virtues) re-aligned my tastes and, along with images of green waves glimpsed through pine trees, made me want to come here.

Dunedin is satisfying. It’s a rare instance where the reality matched my fantasy. You’ve seen endless photos of the scenic beauty here. This is particularly striking here on the south island, with a fraction of the population of the north. Rolling hills, clouds, and rain- all here, and glorious. Rolling through these landscapes with “Rolling Moon” by The Chills on the CD player is perfect, like milk with chocolate; complete.







The above photos are taken in the Otago peninsula, an unspeakably beautiful, lonely place- and only about 20 minutes from downtown Dunedin. The whole area is a nature preserve, home to fragile colonies of penguins and albatross. I haven’t done any of the eco-tours that take you to the restricted-access places to view these creatures, but I did see penguins while surfing this place:



This is Aramoana, which is across the harbor entrance from the peninsula, on the mainland. I saw the penguins swimming through the surf, and toddling up the beach- magical and charming. Does it look cold? I assure you, it was.

There’s something about Dunedin… something about the vivid light, the hilly streets and Victorian buildings, the eccentric octagonal downtown layout. The city matches the moods of the music I’ve loved. It’s easy to sense how it was created here.

I’ve labored to capture the look of Dunedin. I’ve labored, and mostly failed! Of all the attempts, this one comes the closest:




Although the reality is many days are overcast and rainy, I think of the fleeting moments of brilliance, and that cold, clear, yet soft light. This picture caught it (and yes, that’s a Starbucks on the corner, and an SUV in the intersection).

Note also the clothing- some people bundled up. It hasn’t gotten much over 50 degrees since I’ve been here, and has often been around 30-40 degrees. The out-of-town students of the University of Otago are wrapped in down jackets. The locals are less dressed. Either way, you can see your own breath. A great deal of my time in the evenings is spent buying wood and keeping it burning in the fireplace. By the way- Gregory sent me a CDR full of vintage horror and detective “noir” radio shows. I’ve spent several blissful evenings listening to these by firelight. Thanks Gregory.



Above is a photo of Princess Street, heading toward The Octagon. Note the covered sidewalks, a feature of many larger N.Z. downtowns, testifying to the amount of rain the country receives.

The octagonal city plan, and its conformity to the steep hills make for unusual juxtapositions of buildings, and a warren of back alleys and unexpected passageways. I ducked into a driveway tunnel, along which, halfway through, was a hidden art gallery. The driveway led to this cluster of backdoors:



A friend once pointed out that San Francisco has a visually pale, washed-out quality. She said, “it disappears”, and I saw just what she meant. The buildings are painted in light shades, the California sun shimmers- the boundaries of roof and sky become vague. She compared it to New York City, with its preponderance of brick buildings, and remarked how it seemed grounded to the earth in comparison- how she felt alert there. In San Francisco, she said, she felt half-asleep.

Dunedin is similar in visual tone to NYC. I noticed as I walked around, trying to capture the feeling, that I was taking picture after picture of old brick buildings. These won’t seem novel to Evan and Janet, or Gregory or Kate, but they will to my San Francisco friends.





So, once again, in attempting to capture the essence or big picture of these environments that are so striking in person, my photographic skills let me down (still, I’m pretty happy with that one image that did).

Dunedin is buzzing with artistic energy. The public galleries and museums are of a high caliber, and all are free. I saw a fantastic exhibition of German post-war fashion photography, with a fascinating and well-attended lecture by one of the photographers, Ute Mahler, who had begun her work in East Berlin in the 1970s.

I also discovered the fourth floor of the Otago museum, accessed by a discreet stairway, which houses the most extraordinary gallery I’ve ever seen- a recreation of the original 19th century natural history museum.





The museum light is very dimly lit; photography was difficult without a tripod. But I just had to share with you what I saw there, in the gloom…









The museum is laid out in a Darwinian timeline, from protozoa to the Pinnacle of Evolution (man, natch). Much of what is exhibited is labeled with the original handwriting of the second curator and naturalist, one hundred-plus years ago.



No affectation of morbidity is needed to convey the gruesomeness of this place. The sights on display in the half-lit gloom sent most of the (few) people quickly on their way out, shuddering.







Some were almost too much for me.





Holy Christ.



Look back at the Rat King. It’s not hard to feel sorry for that bunny, having to see that apparition in the corner of its eye, for all eternity…

The floors of the contemporary museum had their charms too.





I’d like the preceding two images to serve as an official welcome to Diane, who will be flying out to join me here soon, for the better part of a month. Hooray!

What else to say? The graffiti is wonderful here. There’s very little tagging (the ugly scrawled spray paint or marker’d signature). It’s much more arty:










This little fellow is all over:



I’ve also had the chance to see Robert Scott, from The Bats (one of the seminal Dunedin bands) play live, free, in the city library. And the day I leave (this Friday), I’m going to go to see Martin Phillips, from The Chills, in the same place.

Well, that’s all for now. Tonight I’m going to go to an “open mic” in one of the downtown clubs and play a few songs with Jakob, my flat mate (Jon & Diane- I taught him “Ice Cream” and “Straight Talk”). I hope the attendees will be as generous as they were the other time I went there (as a non-participant). But that’s not important. Such is my love of the original Dunedin music scene that, more than anything, I feel excited to play for people here simply because this is where it happened.