It is the first morning waking up in the hostel. Awoken by two roommates – an unsociable British couple – packing their things departing after their one-night stay a sight that has been allusive the entire trip due to early morning laziness becomes evident through the window at the foot of the top bunk.
The early morning Melbourne skyline… particularly its pregnant purple pigments that are technically still denoted in Perth’s mornings but that carry their own unique connotations over East.
The immediate alarm bells in the mind pull the strings connected to the word “optimistic”, but it’s not quite right. Optimism implies having a positive outlook while in somewhat dire circumstances, this sky is productive and ready for the next fourteen hours in a way that’s indifferent to the possibility of gloomy clouds and other surrounding circumstances. It’s a humanistic machine of productivity.
A photo is taken, attempting to capture this effect through the window while still seated in bed; the picture is somewhat pretty yes, but in a literal way; it’s completely devoid of these figurative nuances that make it special. If one was to be a pretentious amateur academic, they’d perhaps say there was a similar feeling of disappointment in this photograph as Monet had felt about the (at the time new) camera’s method of capturing light. Perhaps wanting to give something back to the world or perhaps just wanting to justify his employ as a full-time painter, Monet argued that the camera missed any emotion present in a sight of light in favour of the literal colours and shades of objects as seen by the robotic lens.
However, one wishes not to be a pretentious amateur academic, so all that will be said is that the photo was unsatisfactory.
Deeper exploration into Carlton takes place in search for a modern-day equivalent of Monet’s “Haystacks”, a venture that misses the thesis made by impressionism that a camera is incapable of properly capturing emotion as it focusses on “correct” objective objects. The search continues through Fitzroy and Collingwood with photo after photo taken in desperation of capturing what can not be captured.
Further venturing is fuelled by a coffee from the only café open at this point in the early morning; the businesses openness is helpfully signposted by two decorative older gentlemen sitting out the front and complaining of mediocre theatre. Caffenated and frustrated determination continues in an effort to photograph this connotative sky using an denotative device, but square blocks do not fit through circular holes and eventually the sky returns to a sky of monotony and regular daily tasks with tastes of burnt coffee in the back of its throat.
No impossible task was achieved; the attitude of the sky remains a memory. A memory better told in this writing than in any photograph.