Barangaroo Reserve is one of the newer parts of Sydney. Just over a year ago, it wasn’t even open to the public. The clump of land beside Millers Point was created, seemingly risen from the water.
As Millers Point residents, we were able to observe the Barangaroo development from our high-up apartment; we watched as the stone blocks shipped in and placed just so; we were close enough so that some days we could even hear the onsite staff announcements. But we moved out of the neighbourhood, in early 2015, before its completion. When we returned to Sydney later that year, after nine months or so of travel, Barangaroo had only been open for about a month; even now tenants are still moving in to commercial spaces – it still feels very ‘new’ and construction continues…
Those who follow me on Instagram will probably know of my fondness for big, built things (buildings, bridges, structures that reach for the sky). Barangaroo ticks a few of those boxes as far as ‘big’ and ‘built’ are concerned. That aside, the other feature of Barangaroo Reserve that I appreciate and admire is greenness of the headland: six hectares planted with a variety of native species from shrubs to grasses, ferns to palms, vines to trees. It’s a wonderful outdoor space for people to walk, run, cycle, play.
This morning, I took myself for a walk there, along with many others, to take in ‘Sculpture at Barangaroo’, which runs from 6 to 14 August and features 14 works of Australian artists, including The Grove (2014) by Margarita Sampson – of which I took quite a few photos.
The Grove explores our relationship with nature and community and calls to mind pods – both fruit and shelter – inviting visitors to examine the tactile red cedar structures up close.
Although there were many other artworks at Barangaroo, I was drawn The Grove. I liked that the work looked like it could’ve been part of the natural environment. I don’t think I was alone in my fascination of this installation either.
I strolled around for a bit, people-watching, before the shower predicted by the weather bureau made its dampening appearance. Out came the umbrellas and raincoats – I had neither (amateur’s error, I know!) so I had to wait under cover for a few minutes before pulling my beret tightly over my head, stowing my camera and beating a hurried path to the train station and home again.