place
Dear Ciara,
Place is on my mind. What I mean by this is how places—a person’s geography, the landscape and cities around them—shape who they are. I’m not talking just about socialisation; there is something deeper to it than that, something hard to explain, as though places have some sort of sublime quality with the potential to reshape a person’s DNA. Forgive me while I attempt to articulate my thoughts on this…
What prompted this thought was music. I’ve recently been listening to an artist called Gatlin, whose childhood in Florida bleeds into almost every single song on her album The Eldest Daughter. Even when she isn’t explicitly mentioning it (in descriptive language or whatever), I can almost feel Florida bubbling beneath the surface of her music. Sufjan Stevens is, of course, the king of exploring the sublimity of place, grappling with many distinctly American concerns against a backdrop of cornfields, the states of Michigan and Illinois, and American cities I can’t even begin to fathom.
American musicians (and writers) seem to be masters of exploring the ways places shape identity. Having now examined the work of a few other American artists, I’m noticing more and more how many discuss places and geographical landmarks in their writing. Often these places are then played with as extended metaphors for things I’m unable to fully perceive as somebody from a different country and culture.
I’m not saying Australian musicians and writers don’t do this—our First Nations folk certainly do, and I’d argue we’re very good at exploring the sublimity of the bush—but I don’t think celebrating our cities, towns and landmarks is at the forefront of our consciousness in the same way it is in the United States. While we do have much in common with states, I don’t think our regional identities and experiences of place are the same. Perhaps so-called Australia hasn’t existed long enough for the sublimity of our places to have created some distinct sense of grandiosity and mythology? It feels like relatively uncharted territory that I want to explore in my writing, particularly now that I have moved to a place that is so distinct to where I grew up. I can feel it changing me.
I suppose this is why I have been feeling drawn to musicians like Gatlin and Stevens recently, now that I am beginning to explore my own sense of place, the landscape around me, and how it is changing who I am. Clunky metaphors are beginning to emerge in my writing that are increasingly “Tropical Queensland” in colour. For example, look below at some word-vomit I wrote on a walk today:
my tourist town, my hot flesh / gleaming beads of sweat / along my forearms: a shimmering highway, incandescent schools of fish in the canal / surprised by what I do? I am too / closing my eyes at night / racing images / racing brumbies / somewhere south of the art deco city
go from my air-conditioned house to my air-conditioned to car to my air-conditioned place of work to an air-conditioned bar
While nothing about this is distinctly deep or profound (which, of course, writing doesn’t always have to be), the landscape and towns around me are noticeably starting to bleed into my work. I can’t seem to escape the humidity, the dense tourism, the fish that use the canal behind my house as a highway… What are these images revealing about my community, about Tropical Queensland, about me? How can I play with them à la Sufjan Stevens?
I don’t have the answers yet. I am just a man struggling to articulate what he wants to say in his writing.
What do you think?
The song for today is:
Gatlin – LOVE ME
My favourite lyric: “maybe I don’t want your prayers / I just want you to love me”.
Love,
The Gardener