City art...

Yesterday I retraced my last post's inner city circuit with friend Elaine. This time it was a Saturday and there were more people about, more voices, more movement. In a CBD that has been populated mosty by demolition workers for over two years, this was such a great thing. 

C1 was buzzing, inside and out. New Regent Street, though not yet fully occupied, was busy with locals and tourists. Only in the Square were voices respectfully hushed as people looked at the Cathedral from behind the barricades.

This time around what struck me most was the wonderful art, everywhere. Nothing new - art works, installations have been a feature of the post-quake landscape almost from the very start. But here is a selection of new art works, with my two favourites first.

Made by Mel, Reuben and Sasha from Governors Bay. Love the hair!!

By Rata. I just love the elegant movement in this one

The Government Life building 'reflected'. By Mike Hewson

Reflection in the sky walk . Mike Hewson again

Not a new work this, but I couldn't resist the recent addition...

And the oversized sofa in Gloucester St being used as it should be - for fun!

Time of the phoenix...

Yesterday I drove round the harbour, as I usually do on Saturday mornings, to the Lyttelton Farmers' Market. After the February quake the market ceased briefly and then decamped to Mt Pleasant Community Centre. Within a month it was back in Lyttelton, the stall holders bravely setting up, even though the crowd that usually throngs the Saturday market was much diminished. One lady who sells beautiful summer produce - tomatoes, peppers, aubergines etc - told me how nervous she was about coming through the Lyttelton tunnel. I'm not surprised given that the epicentre of the quake was very close and that the tunnel itself, which I use frequently, is looking sad and poorly maintained.


But yesterday, for the first time, I sensed a change in mood. Little roadside stalls were popping up along Oxford Street. There were more people. They were talking not so much about the devastation as about the future. Conversations have turned to what could be. It seems that, as more and more historic buildings are demolished in London Street and Norwich Quay, the empty blocks - the spaces - are enabling new visions to emerge. I too feel this confidence. I know the residents of Lyttelton are strong enough, and sufficiently determined, to drive a rebuild that will meet their needs as a community.


One of the things that has concerned me, especially in the city, is that I will see empty spaces and wonder 'what was there?' - even in a city I know so well. However yesterday I noticed something different about the spaces. That you can look through. That they open up unexpected vistas. Obvious, yet unanticipated and strangely liberating. As though we need to be reminded that the absence of a building is a space and an opportunity. This parallels the many conversations I've had with friends and acquaintances about the post-quake, changed relationship with possessions. Items that we have treasured and lost seem unimportant in wider scheme of things. 'Stuff' is just stuff - and in times of emergency, a potential encumbrance. Perhaps we all feel lightened (literally and figuratively). Never could I, as someone who treasures objects and buildings with history and personal import, have imagined this possibility. It has taken a seismic shake to realign my/our relationship with the man-made environment.