A Trip Down Memory Lane Representation II - Magazine Spread: Is Memory Landscape? A1826283 Shi Qi (Nicole) Ng, A1832283 Brayden Dowling & Pui Yi (Azalea) Chong A1800419
I arrived at the site on a quiet afternoon of the weekend, the weather was calm, wind smoothly breezed across the trees, making a peaceful rustle sound. Some cockatoos were hopping in between the woods, ignoring the existence of me, as an intruder. The Brownhill Creek quietly flows through the area, leaving a calming gurgling sound in the background. I have noticed several tree trunks lying on the ground of the site, whether it fell by itself or some folks intentionally timber it down, I have no idea to find out, but it must have happened a long time ago. Now they’re all becoming a part of the landscape, people can sit on those trunks to have some food, or maybe just simply a rest. They used to exist as trees, even when they fell, they remained their existence on the site, and became a part of it. As long as there’s the existence of an object, there is a memory of it, it represents something that happened a long time ago, maybe too long that we, as descendants, couldn’t even tell. I think the site is a good place for meditating, it makes me calm and think about the past.
Memory Through Lens- Vision Like human, landscape also has a memory device which materializes and preserves the course of time through tangible objects. The name of a person carved on the tree bark gives us clue of a person who used to visit Brown Hills Creek. The trail gives us a clue of a whole generation walking through this area. However, compared to landscape’s memory, human’s memory is intangible, more complicated and can be recollected through many senses. Our group collects the memory of each member in the rawest, most primitive form to see how human recollects memory of a landscape, to see if memorizing is just a process of the brain or are memories also stored in our muscle, senses and skin.
Tianyi Wang
Memory Through Audition- Sound
I arrived at the site early when there were not so many people there. I got lost at first, the area was out of service. Without the help of modern technology, anyone visiting the site was encouraged to explore and engage more in the site, trying to find a clue through the movement of nature. I walked down the trails next to the creek, following the direction of the creek. My first impression of the site was its sound: the babble sound of water as it flowed along the creek, the birds singing, and the ducks playing in the water. As more people coming made the dry leaves crackle, the music of the creek gradually turned backwards, but never disappeared. It is wonderful how I followed that sound to find my direction and even when I found the tutor – our tour guide, the creek sound followed us till the end of the journey and saw us off as we said goodbye to the site. However, as the trail is in the middle of the creek and the driveway, sometimes, I got distracted by the engine’s noise of the car passing by. I want to be brought back to the moment when I just arrived at the site, when there was no human presence, when the driveway was so quiet, I barely saw a car. That is also the moment when the place felt so dear to me, almost sacred like a natural amphitheater, where the musical instruments are trees, rocks, water, and nature was the talented musician.
Ha Thanh Le
Arriving at the site just minutes from suburbia you are greeted with the tranquil ambience – quiet and secluded. A path of large rocks crosses the creek bed, the running water swirling around the rocky bed and along the banks of reeds and grasses. Ancient gums and Pinus Pineas’ shade the area in a dappled light, shadows constantly moving as the breeze passes through the leaves. Fallen trees create a habitat for creatures big and small, appearing to have been picked up and placed, almost intentionally. Over a small rise the scenery changes – the creek bed widens and groves of willows line the creek bed creating more obstacles for the rushing water. Small waterfalls and high banks amplify the sound of the water creating a relaxing backdrop of relaxation inducing tones. Across the creek and down an embankment is a small clearing, surrounded by the bush and more or less level with the water. It beckons to anyone who wishes to sit at one with nature and drift away, letting the peace of the surrounding landscape wash over them. Crossing the water carefully stepping from rock to rock, one makes their way through the grass to the small open space, a natural room of solitude. A partially covered moss rock provides the perfect spot to sit. As one looks out from one’s space of tranquility, the dappled light hits the rushing water of the creek and creates a spectacular array of colour and reflection, the most wonderful place to drift away and be at one with your thoughts.
Taylor Hittmann
Memory Through Audition- Sound
Brownhill Creek Recreation Park is a wonderful place in Adelaide. I was there once last week. Cannot forget the feeling and smell! I love smelling, specifically the Nature. When I arrived at the park, I closed my eyes and tried to enjoy all the things in the park such as the smelling, touching. The first impression from the park is the fragrant grass smell surrounding me. I really love this fresh feeling. It can really reduce my stress. After that, I walked through the grass area and I arrived at the river. Different smells with the grass. Nearby the river, I smelled sweet and cold. Very special experience when I took a deep breath next to the river in the park. Along the way, I have been admiring the local scenery and enjoying the different smells of grass. What I didn’t expect is that different trees have different smells. The time flies by very quickly, and I will return in about an hour. Watching the same scenery, I found that different moods will have different tastes. When I returned, I dragged my tired mood and felt a taste of memories. I will always remember this taste. Every place in nature, they all have their own unique smell. With the scent of memories, I went back to the car and slept in a fragrant sleep.
Pui
Yi chong Memory Through Fragrance- Smell
Brayden Dowling
Memory Through Touch- Feel
As I arrived on site with my friends, we noticed the creek and all the fallen trees. I instantly wanted to climb all over them as it sparked a memory of me playing as a kid. As I was climbing on a tree I accidentally missed a step and broke a branch as I fell into the creek. My shoe and sock were completely drenched. Although I didn’t care as I saw another tree to climb just up the path, so I just ran off as if nothing happened. I felt like a completely different person while on site, I was filled with so much energy, and all I wanted to do was run around and explore. I climbed the side of a mountain and a heap of more trees. By the end of the day, I explored the entire site and climbed almost every tree I could and even some I could not. Throughout the day I created a lot of memories with my friends, but not all memories I would take with me. As I turned around and took one last look, I saw all of the branches I broke and all of the footprints I had left, so the site also had a memory of me.
There’s a panic-struck man beside me, down on his hands and knees, crawling around distressed, leaving deep marks in the fresh, green grass like scars in the landscape. I watched him rise from the ground, guided by his hands, making his way towards the fallen trunks, as if they were calling out to him. He’s blind. But something within him emerged, as if it were a survival instinct. With his shoes and socks off, there was nothing between him and the land. I could tell the connection between them ran fast and deep, with each contact, more intense than the last. With every touch and step he took; it rumbled deep into my core. I could feel it. What slowly became a puddle beneath him, was now a flowing stream. The waters beckoned him up with each wave, inviting him into his own spiritual awakening- his inner-child healing. The creek enticed him over toward yet, another fallen tree, of which he ascended slowly, tracing his bare feet along the grooves of the bark. He swivels around, staring deep, past the Gums, through the creek, and right into the heart of his journey, pondering over the ‘sight’ of himself- a little boy playing.
Shi Qi Ng
Memory Through Touch- Feel
