The Thousands

A recent encounter with the work of Ricky Swallow got me thinking about The Desert Rose – an essentially dead organism, whose beauty comes with the extended passing of time. The same can be said about Wendy Whiteley’s Garden or any green enclave, which inevitably grows.

Once a dwelling for rotting mattresses and surplus trains owned by the Rail Corp, Wendy exercised her green thumb in the wake of Brett Whiteley’s passing. By planting this botanical labyrinth between the scattering of industrial trinkets – adjoining their Lavendar Bay home – Wendy greened a once wasted space.**A poignant serendipity of the way things grow and perish broods here. Wendy’s Garden is no secret, but it’s a fitting common to pause time with a gaggle, a bottle and a multi-sleeve picnic rug.