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| Elise Harmsen on the Gunyah jetty, 2025 |
" ... The days were getting shorter and it was the middle of autumn and it was the beginning of May. Elise and I jumped out of the car with three jars of different kinds of pickles each. It was sunny and we collected kindling for the fire in the afternoon. It was a magical time in a beautiful spot. It was the first time I’d spent more than a night away from my son. We walked to the jetty and listened to boat and bird sounds. I made a series of watercolours in the afternoons and sat in the window seat watching the trees before that. The last days were sunny and rainy both and the evenings were devoted to long dinners and discussing our day’s pursuits. Elise read Vernon Lee aloud to me by the fire and by the outside sky, as I untangled a ball of wool. ..."
Nicola Smith @hellonicola
Gunyah residency report, May 2025
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| Elise Harmsen at Gunyah, 2025 |
" ... Every time I make a road trip, the sound work Via, 2000 by Caroline Bergvall travels with me. It is a ten minute recording of forty-seven different English translations of the opening line to Dante’s The Inferno. My favourite translation from 1911 provides the tone for our stay at Gunyah - a warm wooded resting place overlooking the beautiful water, land and sky of the Worimi People.
'Midway along the highroad of our days, I found myself within a shadowy wood, where the straight path was lost in tangled ways.' (Wheeler, 1911)
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| Nicola Smith untangling the wool, 2025 |
A car packed with three types of pickle, paper, watercolours, knitting supplies and enough wine and cheese to see us through the week. I had also bought with me a giant stack of photographic negatives that I had recently gained access to from the family vault at Koala Storage - a cache of images unseen in my adult lifetime. Antonio, Nicola’s son (and the subject of her latest body of work) sent off to kinder that morning not quite understanding the distance to Port Stephens or how many spoonfuls of ricotta he would receive that day. Antonio and Nicola’s partner Stefan would join us midway through our trip, bringing the wonderful chaotic that only a three year old can deliver. I can imagine it difficult for Nicola to be away from Antonio for an extended period of time. His curious nature and quick feet mark time and space in the precise present.
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| Antonio's quick feet, 2025 |
We arrived late in the afternoon and were greeted in the kitchen by a large yet timorous huntsman. Building the courage to manoeuvre all eight legs to the window with a long broom gave the introduction an other-worldly feel. After feeling pleased that we had completed the entry ritual, we realised that there was no escape once the panes were closed. The eventual release was cathartic - not knowing when or where we would next meet (and a lesser burden than a daily haunting of the window each evening). After dinner we spent the evening knitting and talking by the fire. Nicola managed to unfurl a ball of wool that had been causing trouble.
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| On the Gunyah jetty, 2025 |
The mornings bought fine and invisible rain. Mist sat heavy over the water and I would film the sunrise to send to my partner overseas. Fog and mist translate feelings of near and far so effectively. Nicola worked upstairs projecting scenes from a recent trip to Rome from which she painted from and I spent the days adapting a short story into film - The Compost of Rome 1906 by Vernon Lee (pseudonym for Violet Piaget), a French born British writer of the Victorian period.
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| Nicola Smith drawing at Gunyah, 2025 |
The days were mostly spent like this. Nicola working upstairs, myself downstairs until the sky decided to turn all the shades of blue in the world and we would reconvene to eat, drink, talk and knit the rest of the evening. The persistence of the past is heavy at Gunyah. You can hear it in the creaking walls made from deep rusty coloured tree boughs and the light that reflects up from the water and quickly moves across the rooms, seeking a place in which to rest before the million years of stars arrive at nightfall. We’re so appreciative of this time and space. Our knitting is unfinished. ..."
Elise Harmsen @esusannahh
Gunyah residency report, May 2025
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| Nicola Smith and Elise Harmsen at Gunyah, 2025 |
