Over 10 years ago, whilst studying a photography minor at University I became interested in urban locations by night. The uglier the better. I used to call these locations ‘non-places’, which isn’t a new concept by any means, but one that I interpreted in my own way based on my location.
The Zinc Works in the outskirts of Hobart was one such ‘non-place’. When you’re there, late at night, alone, there is a certain beauty to it, despite the purpose it serves and stigma it carries.
As the place hums like a giant sleeping monster with it’s glistening, sparkling eyes, writhing around in the middle of a furious dream – I can only see a kind of beauty hidden under the dark facade.