Since returning to my home state of lutruwita/Tasmania at the start of the global pandemic, I have faced a reckoning of sorts in considering my childhood and departure from the island 20 years ago. The early and unexpected nature of the migration forced an examination of familial memories and a questioning of the material and immaterial nature of place.
Queenstown and its surrounding areas have been home to my ancestors for five generations. I spent the first three years of my life in our family home on Jakins st and the park adjacent the railway is named after my grandfather, Trevor Carswell for his commitments to the local community. Although I haven’t lived in Queenstown since early childhood, my memories are tied to visits back to see my grandmother and relatives; the winding roads that lead into the valley are tinged with nostalgia. Despite the shifting of time, the scale of the mountains remains unchanged in my eyes as scars of the landscape remain embedded in my cerebral memories. Social, cultural and environment aspects of Queenstown appear unchanged to the casual observer, however, like the ebbs and flows of the mining industry, there is a recent sense of imminent change. A town on the cusp of transformation, both from internal and external forces has emboldened a sense of urgency to document Queenstown and the shifting tides.