When I was a kid I used to be captivated by Wellington’s pigeons. I know, I know – rats with wings. I don’t care. I loved them then, and well, I still have a thing for them now.
Back in the day Te Aro Park in Dixon/Manners Street was replete with pigeons. Replete. There were hundreds. Thousands. The park was more commonly known as ‘Pigeon Park’. I loved the crazed fluster of wings and the mad enterprise as the flocks soared and squabbled over the crusts from the lunch time crowds.
Later, I made a series of photos of pigeons in Cuba Street, and I used them to help get entry into design school. Somewhere along the way I lost the photos – I wonder if they were as good in reality as they are in my mind.
Today, I still love the metallic feather sparkle that pigeons exhibit when they strut around in sunlight. Their lolly pink feet – pigeons walk on lolly pink feet. Other birds, like sparrows and starlings, hop. Pigeons have a proud, almost defiant stance. And I especially love the fact that, despite the best efforts of the authorities, there are still pigeons fluttering and jostling for crusts on our streets.
Manifesto
14. Every day the ordinary can be the extraordinary.
30. Every day use all your senses. Touch. Smell. Taste. Hear. See.
49. Every day is a good day.
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