Painting Spirit of Tasmania in drydock Garden Island

Today's painting on the deck shows a plein air painting of the Spirit of Tasmania 1 in Captain Cook drydock, Garden Island.


GI 5 'Spirit of Tasmania 1 in Captain Cook drydock'
2013 oil on canvas 45 x 92cm

It was an amazing experience to watch the whole operation of drydocking and I was so lucky to be able to paint it from the floor of the drydock, with the immense bulk of the ship looming up above me.

On this occasion the Spirit of Tasmania 1 was in drydock for about 3 weeks between July and August 2013.

Every sea-going vessel has to undergo this maintenance process twice within a period of 5 years.

GI 5 'Spirit of Tasmania 1 in Captain Cook drydock'
2013 oil on canvas 45 x 92cm

When the ship arrives at the dock, it has to be positioned accurately so that when the water is pumped out it will rest exactly on the blocks at the bottom of the dock.

Once the ship is in position, the entrance to the dock is closed using a watertight gate, known as a caisson, sealing the ship off from the rest of the harbour.

The time from when the stern of the ship first touches the blocks, to when the full weight of the ship is bourne by the blocks is the most crucial and potentially dangerous period in the entire operation.

The ship must rest on an even keel and not be lopsided or tilting down at one end.

Even 1 metre off the sender line could result in the ship toppling over.

Care also must be taken that the ship doesn't refloat after it is resting on the blocks.

When the ship is finally resting on the blocks it is called "Taking the blocks" and after all the water has been pumped out of the dock, then the inspection, cleaning and repairs can be carried out.

GI 11 'Captain Cook drydock Garden Island'

2013 oil on canvas 25 x 51cm

An awe-inspiring 280 million litres of water had to be pumped out of the Captain Cook graving dock before work on the ship can begin.

It is a hypnotic sight to watch the water slowly drain over a period of several hours.

This is a painting of the southern end of the dock, and inside the walls you can see the black depth indicators pointing like giant rulers into the bottom of the dock.

Plein air oil painting  of Spirit of Tasmania 1
in Garden Island Drydock

Dry dock walls are built on a heroic scale. They need to resist the enormous hydrostatic forces unleashed when the dock is being dewatered.

They reminded me of the monumental architecture of lost ancient civilizations such as the Egyptian, Mesopotamian or Aztec.

GI 5B 'Fabulous flying forklift in Captain Cook drydock'
2013 oil on canvas 10 x 10cm

Heavy machinery such as forklifts, cranes and scissor lifts were then lowered onto the dock floor by the two cranes on either side of the dock.
In my largest canvas you can see no fewer than 8 cranes, as well as 2 portaloos!
It was a very long walk up to the surface!

The first major job was to wash the slime off the outer shell plating with high pressure waterjets. Although this certainly does make the ship look much prettier, the real reason is that it helps reduce fuel consumption and emissions.

Then the outer shell plating is coated with anti- corrosive paint, as seawater takes an enormous toll on any surface exposed to it. Any parts of the ship that will be submerged are then painted with a coat of anti-fouling paint.

GI 5A 'Workmen on Spirit of Tasmania 3
in Captain Cook drydock'
2013 oil on canvas 10 x 10cm 

Propellor blades, rudders, underwater valves, cathodic protection systems, anchors and cables must be inspected for corrosion and cracks.

There was also extensive work on the interior and the stern doors.

GI 7 'Andre on bridge of Spirit of Tasmania 1
in Captain Cook drydock'
2013 oil on canvas 25 x 51cm

I included many of the contracters in my series of paintings. This, painted from the bridge of the ship also shows the soon to be demolished Hammerhead Crane set against the scenic backdrop of  the Sydney Harbour Bridge.

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Rust bucket

The now derelict 'William Wallbank and Sons' was a foundry on the Parramatta Road, Auburn, dating from 1932.

One of their specialties had been making the components for brick making machines.

AWW1 'Watching the forge fires fade 1
 'William Wallbank + Sons' 187 Parramatta Road'
2016 oil on canvas 56 x 76cm
Available

In 2008 I exhibited a series of paintings that I had created of old brickworks at Eastwood, St Peters and Brookvale at the Museum of Sydney during the book launch of "The Brickmasters"  , a comprehensive history of brickmaking in Australia by Ron Ringer.

Several of my paintings of Brickworks at Brookvale. Eastwood and St Peters were included in this book. At the launch I met Frank Wallbank, who invited me to paint in the foundry, but unfortunately I delayed taking up his offer.
A friend alerted me to the foundry's closure and I was able to contact the new owner and arrange access to paint. I am kicking myself for not getting there while it was still working, but better late than never!

AWW2 'Watching the forge fires fade
('William Wallbank + Sons' )
2016 oil on canvas 61 x 91cm
Highly Commended 2016 Auburn Art Prize
Available

 In a foundry, metal is melted into liquid in a furnace.

To cast the metal into shapes, the molten liquid is then poured into a mould in the shape of the desired part.
Simple designs can be made in a single piece or solid pattern.

More complex designs are made in two parts, known as a split pattern, which has a top section, or "cope", and a bottom section, called a "drag".

Patterns can be made from wax, wood, plastic, or metal.

AWW2 'Watching the forge fires fade
('William Wallbank + Sons' )
2016 oil on canvas 61 x 91cm
Highly Commended 2016 Auburn Art Prize 
Available

Traditionally, moulds were poured by hand, using ladles. It must have been horrifically dangerous.
I was told that all the foundry workers were supposed to wear a special sort of protective covering over their boots, similar to old-fashioned "spats" to stop the molten metal droplets burning their skin, but these were unpopular as the metal would still find a way to trickle down the gap and into their boots. Instead of protecting, the boot covering seemed to cause even more damage.

AWW2 'Watching the forge fires fade
('William Wallbank + Sons' )
2016 oil on canvas 61 x 91cm
Highly Commended 2016 Auburn Art Prize 
Available

Now modern foundries use robots or automatic pouring machines to pour the molten metal.
As the metal cools it solidifies and then the mould (known as a 'casting') is removed.

AWW2 'Watching the forge fires fade
('William Wallbank + Sons' )
2016 oil on canvas 61 x 91cm
Highly Commended 2016 Auburn Art Prize
Available

My canvas of this set of 3 abandoned ladles was recently runner-up in the 2016 Auburn Art Prize, held in the Peacock Gallery opposite the Botanical Gardens.
The central ladle has a capacity of 7 tons, and is flanked by a "three tonner" on the left, and a "four tonner" on the right.

AWW3 'Watching the forge fires fade  3-
'William Wallbank + Sons' 187 Parramatta Road'
2016 oil on canvas 51 x 71cm
Available

All of these ladles would date from at least 70 years ago.

They could even date from the earliest years of the foundry, as they are all rivetted, so they must date from a time before welding had replaced rivetting. 

Only the largest ladles were fitted with brakes to help modulate the flow of pouring the molten metal.

AWW4 'Rust Bucket' 7 ton ladle,
William Wallbank + Sons foundry 
2017 oil on canvas 122 x 91cm
PRIVATE COLLECTION : SYDNEY

I'm only able to gain access to paint in my strange new "studio" when the gates are opened to remove machinery, and I need to ring up on the night before.

Sometimes potential new owners come to inspect the premises, but they rarely stay for long.

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Ozymandias

Every ruin is a reminder that all things are destined for oblivion.
I am both artist and historian; painting amidst the detritus of the industrial past, walking under rusty girders in the shadow of toppled giants.

'Under the Hammerhead Crane'

2014 ink pastel charcoal on paper 115 x 80cm

FINALIST : 2014 KOGARAH ART PRIZE

FINALIST : 2014 MOSMAN ART PRIZE
Available 

This is a mixed media painting of the Hammerhead Crane, which unfortunately is now being demolished, despite its iconic heritage status and distinguished history.
By now the "hammerhead" of the crane has been almost completely dismantled.
Instead of painting from the more familiar viewpoint of Mrs Macquarie's Chair opposite, I tackled the daunting bureaucracy of the Navy for permission to paint 'en plein air' on Garden Island itself.
I stood directly underneath the Crane and looked up into the top of the soaring structure, to capture its sheer scale. It is the embodiment of the 18th century concept of the sublime.
This painting has now been chosen as a finalist in both the Kogarah Art Prize and the Mosman Art Prize.

People are absent in many of my paintings, even though I trained as a figure painter and for 2 decades spent several days a week drawing and painting figures from life. I find that leaving out figures or relegating them to the role of "staffage" enhances the sense of the powerlessness of the individual against the inexorable forces of destruction and change. The crane itself is the best homage to the absent and largely forgotten workers who created the industrial landscapes that are now being destroyed.

GIHC13 'The Hammerhead Crane - homage to Piranesi' 

2014 ink gouache on paper 56 x 76cm
Available

Spaces that have a sense of history, place and meaning, find an echo in art history.

The safety nets resemble fan vaulting in a ruined Gothic abbey and the zig-zag tangle of girders and scaffolding recall Piranesi's images of the 'Carceri' or the wreckage of the dying Roman Empire.

The Hammerhead Crane was built during World War II, and symbolized industrial might, the march of progress and confidence in the values of Western civilization.
The mood of past triumphalism is now tempered by the present reality of scuffed textures, rust and tarnished metal.
Even as a victim of the slow death of de-industrialization, it had retained a poignant grandeur as industrial memento mori.
The last gasp of the Industrial Revolution, and of Sydney's Working Harbour.
In the words of Shelley's ruin-poem Ozymandias "Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Except that a future civilization would be extremely lucky to be able to find any trace of our heroic past.

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Under the Hammer

Before the Navy finally booted me off Garden Island, I made sure that I tackled some large scale drawings
Since 2007, due to real or perceived safety issues, temporary catch platforms have been suspended from the long arm and short arm jibs. They spoil the line, but apparently provide access to allow condition inspections to be performed safely.
At first glance, it looks as though the Hammerhead Crane has 5 legs.
However, one of these "legs" is a lift to give access from the wharf to the slew ring level (seen in the centre at the top of my drawing). As the crane is 61m high, this wasn't an idle luxury.
Unfortunately this lift has been out of operation since 1998.

While drawing this, I met probably the last person to have ever used the lift. He was escorting a group of photographers to the top, and had pressed the lift button when he heard a muffled explosion, and then found his hands were black with graphite.

He said that he was lucky and got off lightly. I think he was right.

'Under the Hammerhead Crane' 2014
ink, pastel, charcoal,graphite on paper 140 x 110cm
WINNER : 2014 DRAWING PRIZE ROYAL EASTER SHOW
Enquiries

My hands were also black with graphite after creating this enormous drawing.
I stood directly underneath and looked up into the top of the soaring structure.
By looking up I sought to capture the Burke and Longinus concept of the "sublime", with its overtones of awe, terror and vertigo, rather than the picturesque aspect of the typical "hammerhead" profile, a view familiar from Mrs Macquarie's Chair opposite.
The girders were silhouetted against the open sky; the safety nets resembling fan vaulting in a ruined Gothic abbey.

While creating this enormous drawing, I also remembered Piranesi's devastating images of Roman ruins, dangerously broken and overgrown amid the wreckage of a dead civilization.

 GIHC7 'Under the Hammerhead Crane'
2014 ink pastel charcoal on paper 76 x 56cm

Enquiries

I am an artist and historian, born into a time and place where only sport and business are valued. Drawing on the ruins of the industrial past , walking under rusty girders in the shadow of toppled giants.

Every ruin is implicitly a reminder that all things are destined for oblivion.

The Hammerhead Crane was built to demonstrate industrial might and the march of progress.

Even as a victim of the slow death of de-industrialization, it retains a poignant grandeur.

This was exhibited in my solo show "Under the Hammer" at the Frances Keevil Gallery from November 18th - December 7th 2014.

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