A visit to Coochiemudlo island. My friend Hollie took me for a walk around the island she calls home, casting her artist eye across the wonders of sand, clay, confluence of bay, ocean and mangrove, talking about being surrounded by rays leaping out of the water. Coochie stories, Coochie secrets. The island absorbs the easter holiday makers, and we hear the small waves lapping on the crab sculpted water’s edge. The first time we walked around the island I didn’t take photos, surrounded by the quiet completeness of the island.
I will be curating an exhibition with a group of artists who work here. This time I took some photos. Hollie says the island is disappearing, and shows me the lines where the trees can no longer withstand the salt and action of the water, and the island drops away to sand, Huge trees, fall down to be bleached and shaped by the sea. Everything is changing. In the past bullock teams were swum across to the island to work, and there are traces of the old loading paths, they look like Angkor Wat, looped with mangrove roots.