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#32 – Road Trip / Helensburgh + Sea Cliff Bridge.

Memories in film: a road trip last Christmas.

I went on a little road trip with Jenny, Alex and Jane last year on Christmas day. We headed down south to explore Helensburgh and Sea Cliff Bridge – taking snaps along the way.

Our first stop was Helensburgh: a popular place known for an abandoned train tunnel.

It had rained on Christmas Eve, and so when we arrived (some of us wearing white shoes – clearly not the best idea), we were welcomed with muddy tracks and murky puddles that we cautiously and carefully tried to avoid by balancing on the railway tracks. Let’s just say not all of us were spared

This was my first time visiting Helensburgh and the train tunnel, and I immersed myself in deep exploration – literally wandering deep into the pitch-black tunnel. I was told that the tunnel was home to glowworms - but I must have not been paying much attention (and paying too much attention to puddles in the tunnel) because I unfortunately didn’t see any. That just means I’ll definitely be going back to visit – this time with shoes more suited for the occasion.

About an hour’s drive from Helensburgh brought us to Sea Cliff Bridge.

I know a lot of people photograph Sea Cliff Bridge from atop a cliff – a higher vantage point that we didn’t know how to get up to (but which I did visit two weeks ago – a post for that coming soon after I get all this backlog out of the way). So instead, we parked at one end of the bridge and proceeded to walk along it.

We didn’t go up, but we did find a way down – and luckily so. We were able to get close to the crashing waves without the crowd and see a different perspective of the curving bridge. There were also a lot of interesting textures and surfaces that caught my detail-oriented eye, which compelled me to capture their found and fleeting beauty.

And now I’ll leave you with six lines I wrote and call a poem – one that I keep coming back to because of it’s enduring relevance to events; incidents that remind you to be less trusting and less sentimental (which is really depressing in my opinion - why live in a world like that?). I guess lower expectations = less disappointment, but that would also imply that disappointment is inevitable.

#261 – There’s no point maintaining a one-sided friendship.

If someone doesn’t value your relationship enough to be honest, truthful and considerate; if it’s come to a point where you’re the only one that’s giving, and receiving reluctance in return; and if you’re hurting because of it, darling it’s time for you to get out. Your thoughts and effort – your heart – are much better placed somewhere else.

Honesty

Honestly,

Honesty is a sought-after commodity

That you can give but never get back;

Rather, if I told you everything’s a lie,

Would I then be lying – or have you lost track?

Anything you say to this is a lie you must retract.

Honesty is honestly always the best policy xx.

With love, Emily.

Film photography, Fujifilm Superia 400, Poetry, Thoughts, Travel, Road TripEmily Ung19 April 2016Poetry, Film Photography, Fujifilm Superia 400, Film, Road Trip, Travel, ThoughtsComment

#28 – Trends.

So, today’s #thoughtpost is actually part of an application for Pulp (hello there editors), but please feel free to read on and wish me luck!

Alright. So, trends.

When I think of “trends”, I think of “trendy” – what’s fashionable, what’s mainstream and what’s popular – what the current “in-thing” is. I think the typical mindset is that in order to fit in and be accepted by peers, one must conform to these trends to some extent – and aren’t we all guilty of that? Yes, that’s right, I’m talking about you – using all the latest social media apps, adding colourful slang to your vocabulary (because saying “yolo” and “get rekt” gives you so much swag?!) (I plead guilty), wearing a Daniel Wellington watch (so guilty), and carrying a Kanken bag (guilty again).

In saying that, I actually consider myself as someone who steers away from the mainstream – a person whose interests are vastly different from most, and someone who strives to be a unique individual. But now even the so-called ‘hipster’ things are becoming mainstream, and that makes me a little edgy. Methinks there should be a classification of “mainstream hipsters” and “hipster hipsters”, don’t you?

I think underlying the trend following, fitting in and a conscious awareness of external perception and yearning for recognition is the instinctive desire to truly discover oneself. It’s so easy to be swayed by peer pressure and follow the mainstream to do what is considered to be “cool” – but don’t forget that it’s most important to do what makes you happy – trend or not. If reading a good book in the park makes you happy – you go do it. If going out with your mates for drinks makes you happy, you go have a good night out. If I like to wear a Daniel Wellington watch, or carry a Kanken bag because it suits me; if I like to write poetry and solve math equations – be damned sure that I will do it. There’s nothing wrong with following trends, or even going against the current, but don’t be afraid of being your own trendsetter.

(Trendsetting exhibit A: me (confidence is key) – so follow me on Instagram @emilyyyung for more trendsetting images and captions /hairflick/)

With love,

Emily.

Thought Post, Thoughts, Brush CalligraphyEmily Ung21 March 2016Thoughts, Thought Post, Trends, Brush CalligraphyComment

#23 – Fresh.

One year has changed my life more than three years ever could.

It’s always a bittersweet kind of nostalgia as yet another year comes to a close. It’s the point when you really feel the culmination of 365 days, and for some reason the year has brushed past you like a summer breeze.

The cliché would be to say, “2015 was good, and here’s hoping for an even better 2016” – or something along those lines. But in truth, it’s just nothing like that for me this time. Rather, to sum it up, I have mixed emotions leaving the past year and entering into the next.

To say that 2015 was arduous is a massive understatement – and those who have seen me through the past year know that I have stressed this point too many times. They also know first hand how weary I have grown, and just how much my being has crumbled; and I continue to fall victim to my own weakness as I try to piece together the truth and make peace with reality and myself.

Around a year and a month ago, I met the love of my life (yes, go on – say what you may), and since then I have been unlearning things about myself and the world I perceive. It would be unrealistic to say that I haven’t changed – but if I have, it hasn’t been much. My circumstances have changed more than anything.

As with any other year, 2015 has also had its highlights – and so many ‘firsts’. In many ways I am extremely proud of my achievements (although not many) and the milestones I have reached – but largely disappointed in the choices I’ve made and hence the consequences that I’ve had to face. However, above all, I have been amazed by my strength. And although I have had to act against what I’ve stood for, I’ve mustered every bit of strength to endure the pain that is continually inflicted upon me. My experiences have both weakened and strengthened me – and there’s the irony.

I am most thankful for the people who have brought me happiness and helped me get through 2015 – friends who have stuck around, new friends whom I’ve had the pleasure of meeting, friends near and far, even strangers and acquaintances. Recycling words from one of my Instagram captions: I would not have survived 2015 without the most understanding family and friends – for holding me when I couldn’t stop crying; for countless pep talks and advice; for feeling indignant on my behalf; for putting up with the sadder side of me – and the odd stranger or acquaintance for outfit compliments and just making my day in small ways. It’s all in the little things – and believe me when I say I am infinitely grateful to everyone who has helped me pull through. Thank you for affirming my strength and giving me strength.

I know very well that everything I have here is on the Internet and open for everyone and anyone to see. From the get go I knew that Noise and Nuance wasn’t just going to be a straightforward portfolio for my photographs and poetry – no. Each image and carefully selected word would give you insight into my life. It was always going to be personal – everything has its nuance. My feelings are transparent through my words, and I make myself vulnerable by putting everything out there, but I have nothing to be ashamed of. You might be a friend of mine, or a friend of a friend, or we might have six degrees of separation between us – regardless, I thank you for taking time to read my words.

They say that a picture speaks a thousand words – and I think that’s because a picture speaks a few words to each person – everyone will have their own interpretation. The same applies to my poems and my photographs. Of course they’re open to interpretation and could entail a myriad of meanings. You might read it differently from what I intended it to mean, or I may have left it open-ended. The thing with pictures is that you only see the final image – what’s on the surface. You rarely see the build up of paint strokes that have taken to achieve the final effect, am I right? You might read my words and not understand the backstory or know any context – but it still might resonate with you in a different situation. My point basically is that there is no concrete answer or fixed meaning, and therefore there should not be assumptions. But I digress.

As I leave the past year with a heavy heart, I know with certainty that any year that comes at me now will be infinitely better than 2015. Thank you for your lemons 2015 (not really), but I really would love some oranges now. I know I still have so much to learn, so much maturing to do, and still the world for me to see. The road ahead still holds hope for me, and I will continue to hold tight to faith. Despite everything that has happened, I thank the universe for looking after me in the smallest and kindest of ways – for letting me know that my faith, heart and goodwill have not gone to waste (and have become good karma). I might be scarred, but I still choose to be optimistic and hopeful (or naïve and gullible).

I can never be ready for what comes my way –

All I can do is take it day by day.

Hello, 2016. Please, please be good xx.

With love,

Emily.

Thought Post, ThoughtsEmily Ung1 January 2016Thought Post, Thoughts, New Year, 2016 Comment

#15 – Tormented.

Sometimes when I’m reading, I come across certain words or sentences, lines or paragraphs or stanzas that particularly move me. I often find myself in those moments where I really feel what an author or poet is trying to convey, and the emotion his or her words embody. It’s these magical moments that strike me as so sublime and uncanny – that a total stranger can put into words the thoughts I am unable to articulate. It’s an amazing way of affirming that your personal experiences and emotions aren’t all that taboo, and that you really aren’t alone (cliché as that may be). And that, to me, is so special – especially if said printed words on paper can move me to tears.

It’s not often that my own writing has that effect on me – because the process of composing requires time and thought, and already taps into my emotional chambers. However, with that said, this poem just doesn’t stop making my face wrinkle and my throat tighten. As with all my writing and poetry, I have to read it aloud because rhyme and rhythm are elements that I deem as essential. I imagine if I were to perform this piece, I would gradually pick up pace as I speak;

Tormented

I remember the first time

I caught a glimpse of you from the corner of my eye.

I was feeling nervous, and so scared,

But in my mind I thought to myself,

“Hey, he’s cute.”

Right there was where I stood,

Like a statue, but right at you –

On the opposite side of the counter.

I wish I wasn’t there, but I was relieved at the same time.

Right there was where we ate;

In those seats was where we sat,

Where we watched and where we laughed and

Where we leaned.

Right there was where we walked,

Where we sat down and where we talked –

That was where I couldn’t stop myself from falling;

Over and over.

Right there was where we hooked arms,

Where we held hands and where we were calm;

Where we shared everything,

Including our food.

Right there was where we took that photo,

Where we never wanted to let go.

Where we celebrated and where we made plans together

For the future.

Right there was where we lied under the stars –

Where we drank and where you parked your car.

Where I was convinced by your crocodile tears, those that

I couldn’t bear.

Right there was where I felt safe –

Where I was myself, and where I didn’t have to put on a fake face.

Where I took risks knowing that I

Would be ok.

Right there was where I was scared –

Where I feared for my life and where I cried tears.

Where I sat at a window seat and swallowed my sobs as I

Held onto faith.

Right there was where I was delusional –

Where I saw all sorts of illusions and where I was in denial.

Where I thought to myself, “Maybe

I still have a chance.”

Right there was where I slowed down –

Where I tried to hide and where I fell to the ground.

Where I felt my lungs deflate, and thought,

“Is this fate?”

Right there was where I stood out from the crowd –

Where I was on my knees and where I cried my eyes out.

Where I was sprawled between an illuminated orange road sign and

A glass wall.

Right there was where I wished we had never met – ever.

Where I hoped to wake up with amnesia,

Where I tired to eradicate those memories that made me,

Thinking, “if only.”

Right here is where I feel myself disintegrate –

Where my thoughts consume me and drive me crazy.

Where my optimism is beyond me, and I wonder,

“Is this ‘me’?”

Right now, you could still find me

On the street or in your memory –

Where we whispered secrets, and where there

Was no animosity.

Right now, I could be anywhere – I am somewhere

At the beginning, the middle, or the end;

Where I cannot recognise my surroundings, and I wish I wasn’t here,

But at the same time I am relieved (not really).

I thought I would be ok –

But my stomach knots and churns and

I genuinely feel sick – because this

Is where it hurts the most.

With love,

Emily.

Film photography, Poetry, Thoughts, Kodak Portra 400Emily Ung11 November 2015Film Photography, Film, Poetry, Thoughts, Kodak Portra 400 Comment

#6 - Catching a break / Melbourne Part 3.

My time in Melbourne ended much too soon. I still had so many places I wanted to visit and things I wanted to see – it would have been great to have had a few more days – but I made the most of the last two days I had before the flight back to Sydney (at least I think I did).

I started off my second last day with a (second) visit to the Shrine of Remembrance.

After alighting from the tram, it was a peaceful walk up to the Shrine that was sitting atop a hill – bathing majestically in warm winter sunlight.

The Shrine was a truly beautiful place – not just architecturally, and not solely because of the luscious green grass and tall trees surrounding it – but even more so because of its spiritual presence. The atmosphere and emotion that it embodied (I felt) was quite magnificent – what a tribute to remembering the soldiers that fought for our country during the First World War.

“Greater Love Hath No Man”

It was heartwarming to see Australians and tourists alike coming through to give remembrance and learn more about the Shrine and its significance from the very friendly guides – I was also pleasantly enlightened.

Lest We Forget

I lingered a while on the balcony which overlooked the city. There was a slight drizzle – but how often do you have the opportunity to stand taller and feel larger than the world?

We’re so insignificant in relation to the universe – but in saying that, there’s no reason we should doubt the influence and difference we can make in our indifferent world. Most think that an individual’s efforts can’t effect change, but everyone’s contribution as a collective can make all the difference. Such as being conscious of energy usage and the detrimental effects of the meat industry in the long run – because fact is climate change is real and the grain used to feed livestock can save the starving and malnourished. (Sorry for going all technical.)

I always underestimate the difference I can make.

Anyway, getting back to Melbourne:

Although I really hoped to dedicate a whole day to spend quality time with art, I didn’t have the luxury of time and so I only briefly stopped by the National Gallery of Victoria – I was only left with half a day to explore Carlton Gardens and Fitzroy.

Trains and trams were really easy to use in getting around Melbourne – not without the copious amount of walking since I was essentially a tourist. But when you reach your destination, or even stumble upon hidden gems along your adventure – these little surprises make the effort all worthwhile.

I think this was the part of the day I looked forward to the most – finally standing in front of the Royal Exhibition Building. Everywhere I looked was picturesque – absolutely stunning – as if I was in a fairytale setting waiting for pirouetting fairies to appear and glittering flowers to bloom in the midst of winter. Even then, the fallen leaves and bare branches enchanted me.

Regretfully, I could only admire the exterior of the Royal Exhibition Building and time forbade me from entering the Melbourne Museum. (I was getting hungry by then and I truly believed Fitzroy had more in store for me.)

*Parallel Paradigm | Nikon F90 | Kodak Ultramax 400*

And well, I wasn’t wrong. I fell in love with Fitzroy almost immediately – it was just the perfect place for me – really.

Along Brunswick Street was shop after shop of vintage/hipster/foodie/fashion/craft awesomeness. It was a dream-come-true.

I had done my own diligent research prior to my trip and listed down places I wanted to go to before doing day plans the night before. I had heard lovely things about Fitzroy. I had also found out about a café that I made my mission to visit that day.

I had to walk about a kilometer and a half from one end of Brunswick Street to the other to get to Hammer and Tong – trying to refrain from shopping in the meantime because it was approaching the café’s closing time – but it was worth every ounce of effort.

Stepping into the quaint café I was greeted with a rustic, cottage-like interior, which was also juxtaposed with corners of modern furnishing and clean lines. It just felt really cozy and it was really pretty and really inviting and I was really excited and I’m really enthusiastic just talking about it.

Since I was on my lonesome, I sat at a bench seat (also because huge windows and natural light). They had sugar, salt, and pepper in these cute little beakers with small wooden spoons and it was the loveliest touch of styling.

Shortly after came my coffee and the highly anticipated soft-shell crab burger – and can I say the burger was really something. It was like a soft-shell crab hand roll in burger form but even better – it was just amazing.

After demolishing my late lunch, I lingered a while sipping on coffee and penning down thoughts in my notebook, occasionally staring into beautiful blank space.

Fitzroy certainly did not disappoint.

The next day I was due to catch a plane back to Sydney in the late afternoon (thankfully with no delay). Till then, Melbourne had been acting up with the worst of weather conditions and I never could go to Brighton Beach – and I really, really, really, really wanted to see those cute, colourful bathing boxes in person. So, when it didn’t rain that morning, I was out of the apartment and headed straight to Brighton!

I caught the train from South Yarra station and Brighton wasn’t too far away. The thing with Melbourne trains though is that the train doors are manually operated, so you need to press a button to open them. And so, since I didn’t know, I was standing at the door waiting to alight at Parliament one day and the woman with a pram on the platform had to press open the door and I was left feeling quite embarrassed.

Funny story aside, I learnt my lesson and successfully alighted at Brighton Beach Station by pressing a button. Needless to say, I was feeling rather accomplished that day.

*Between the Lines | Nikon F90 | Kodak Ultramax 400*

The train tracks at Brighton Beach Station are such that they run across a road, so you’re basically able to cross them when there aren’t any incoming or outgoing trains. And so when I was making my way across the tracks, it occurred to me that I had stumbled upon a gem of a photo opportunity – at which I was weighing out the risks; hesitant on my desired course of action. By the time I decided I wanted to jump on that decisive moment, the pedestrian gates were closing and I almost got wedged between the gate and fence. This resulted in an awkward girl standing awkwardly on the wrong side of the gate, awkwardly waiting for the train to pass before she could stand awkwardly in the middle of the tracks to take that all important photo. Don’t think it could have gotten anymore awkward, but it was pretty worth it –if I do say so myself.

After overcoming that ordeal, it was a short but scenic walk to the bathing huts. The strong winds were brutal and did not stop lashing at me – I literally could not feel my face. But like a true warrior persevering in the face of adversity, I was rewarded with the glory of the infinitely vast sea; a body of water as blue as sapphire extending to the horizon; as deep as the truest of emotions – and my emotions overwhelmed me. The sea never ceases to amaze me, and make me feel like the smallest, most insignificant speck inhabiting this earth – which sounds horrible but really isn’t all that bad – put simply, my problems are nothing compared others.

I remember watching characters in movies and television shows going to the beach and shouting at the top of their lungs, and I always imagined it would be an incredibly liberating feeling. I, too, was compelled to finally try screaming my lungs out at the sea, which turned out to be a really weak attempt – definitely not my best moment.

*Brighton Bathing Boxes | Nikon F90 | Kodak Ultramax 400*

I eventually arrived at the bathing huts and it was such a beautiful sight – brightly coloured little houses, soft sand, blue water, and a cloudy, overcast sky. And, as always, I dusted off a few seashells for good old memories’ sake.

***

For my last lunch in Melbourne, I decided to dine at The Kettle Black – and, oh boy, am I glad I went.

I didn’t realise how popular the café was until I arrived and there was a line to get in. Since I was alone, it didn’t take too long for me to get a seat. It’s a really modern, contemporary and luxurious café serving great food – although more on the pricey side, but definitely worth the visit. I just really loved the interior – a lot of tiles, marble, wood and warm lighting – an aesthetic feast for the eyes.

Aside, another funny story: I got off the tram and walked in the opposite direction from the café, and ended up having to walk around the block to get to The Kettle Black. (I swear I have a good sense of direction)

***

After a satisfying lunch, it was time to head back to the apartment, grab my bags and leave for the airport.

Although I really couldn’t bear to leave, Wyong Creek was awaiting me!

With love,

Emily.