The silos dominate the view from our balcony and lounge room windows. Tall and impressive, the sandy cylinders impose themselves upon the landscape. At first it seemed such a pity that these monstrous objects jutted from the ground dwarfing all in sight, a blot on the vista from our windows. From every direction they are visible, sentinels upon the river bank. They are the backdrop to Seaport.
Slowly I begin to see and feel that they are so much more and that they belong. Built in the late 50s, they are a remnant from a time when Kings wharf was the centre of a thriving industrial precinct. At their base are the sawtooth designed woolsheds, a couple of decades older still. Abandoned and decaying the silos have been given a second chance at life, an ambitious project to retain and redevelop the silos into an accommodation and conference centre. The cleanup phase has begun, trucks, like ants, crawl over the site, coming and going about their business. I wonder how much of the transformation we will see over the coming year or so.
For now, I am enjoying watching the many moods of the silos; the way the soft morning light reflects upon the vertical walls, the way the still water creates a mirror image, the way a grey and moody sky cloaks the silos in drama and the way a marmalade sunset is a picture perfect backdrop for this impressive old building.
And this impressive old building has imposed itself upon me. No longer a towering interloper, defiant and solitary, now it is a beacon, welcoming me home. A majestic survivor that continues to intrigue and inspire….