Life at Glenbrook lagoon

 I have been attempting to resurrect a little 40x40cms art quilt submitted for an Ozquilt Network exhibition many, many years ago. I had submitted two; one was accepted for exhibition, the original of this one was not. It started out life as the depiction of a ‘hanging swamp’, a particular natural feature unique to the Blue Mountains, and was intended to be included in the series I was developing to celebrate this World Heritage National Park that I was calling “The backyard”(see Archive 2012). All these years later I have decided to continue the theme by unpicking and reconstructing the rejected original. In my imagination, the ‘backyard’ place has shifted to a more familiar one over the thirty years of living in the lower Blue Mountains. It will be transformed into the still, quiet, peaceful Glenbrook Lagoon. 

The ample water supply was used for the steam trains that made their way up and down the mountain. Prior to that, it was a stopover station for those settlers aiming to cross the Blue Mountains to the rich pastures beyond in order to establish homesteads and farms on property. It is often used by the fire-fighting helicopters to suck up water for the overhead bombing of the local, quite regular bushfires. But it has a much longer history than that of course – way beyond the incursion of white settlement. 

I often go there when I’m feeling the need for a hug from the big, old angophora and gum trees that over-arch the narrow avenue growing along the banks of the lagoon. On my way back up the Mountains from Penrith, this passage is often taken as a diversion from the main route, the Great Western Highway. Sometimes I stop and walk in to the public area, stand and watch the ducks and spot a carp cruising in the shallows. A refuge for ducks and birds, it is currently being rehabilitated as a breeding home for long neck turtles. It’s easy to imagine flat stone skimming across the surface in half a dozen skips.

The ample water supply was used for the steam trains that made their way up and down the mountain. Prior to that, it was a stopover station for those settlers aiming to cross the Blue Mountains to the rich pastures beyond in order to establish homesteads and farms on property. It is often used by the fire-fighting helicopters to suck up water for the overhead bombing of the local, quite regular bushfires. But it holds many more stories than that of course – going way, way beyond the incursion of white settlement.

Gazing at the remnants, I wait for them to speak to me, to tell me where to place them together. Suddenly it seems there is no need for creative negotiation. Without asking for further discussion, the parts start to form into the whole. It seems the process of deconstructing from the original, perceived whole the parts will tell me to get to where I’m going…to engage in re-creating steps for living in what resilience for the future may look like. It could be that creating in pandemic lockdown has removed that hesitation so often part of the creative process. Deadlines can do that too! As we know, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts - so just do it! And it has come together thus far for the background.