Richmond has long been a footy mad suburb so it’s not surprising that its walls are adorned with a few footballers. Nothing quite as lavishly over-the-top as the shrine to Diego Maradona which I once saw in the streets of Naples, but striking enough. As you leave Richmond station at the east end of Swan Street, you are greeted by this long-legged giant of a Richmond player bestriding the suburb (above). Continue reading
Richmond is a place where traditionally life was tough. Janet McCalman’s history of the suburb is aptly titled Struggletown. But in spite of the adversity, people find a way to make it through. Continue reading
Something that strikes me often about the Melbourne suburbs is their quietness. Walk through most suburbs on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon and you won’t hear much at all, except traffic (on the busier roads), the occasional lawn mower or leaf blower, perhaps the remote sound of a TV, or the bark of a dog behind a gate. More than once I’ve asked myself: where is everybody? I encounter few other walkers as I make my way around, and occasionally feel oddly conspicuous as a solo pedestrian. Sometimes parks are busy, and certain shopping/cafe strips, but many places seem eerily deserted.
The suburbs are not totally silent, though. On the wall of the Collingwood Neighbourhood House in Perry Street I came across evidence of an intriguing psychogeography project: a list of sounds heard by Lauren Brown, ‘listener in residence’. Continue reading
If you turn right out of North Melbourne station and walk along Adderley Street towards West Melbourne, pretty soon you will reach a house on which the remains of a mural can be clearly discerned. The first thing you notice is the sun, beaming down benevolently on commuters trudging towards their workplaces. You can also make out a rather angry looking cloud, a flash of lightning, a small farm building nestling among pink hills, and the word ‘radioactive’. Continue reading