Michael Green

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Onsite wastewater treatment

In Greener Homes on February 6, 2011

Homeowners in unsewered areas can choose greener systems than septics.

MANY years ago, John Eldridge decided to retrofit the septic tank on his Red Hill property with a worm farm treatment system. The system, made by A & A Worm Farm Waste Systems in Hastings, works the same way as the forest floor, he says. “In the forest you’ve got all sorts of things dropping out of the trees – twigs, bird poo, the odd dead bird – and the water that falls is filtered through it.

“At the top of the pile the material is coarse, but as it moves down it is broken down more finely.”

His worm farm mimics the natural composting process. “The material disintegrates in the liquid. We never need to pump it out and there is absolutely no smell at all,” he says. “We noticed a huge difference.”

Septic tanks are still the most common wastewater system in unsewered parts of Australia, but they don’t actively treat the wastewater to remove pathogens. The effluent must be disposed in trenches more than a foot deep, and the tanks regularly pumped out.

Like a septic tank, Mr Eldridge’s worm farm is classified as a primary treatment system.

Sarah West, from Environment Protection Authority Victoria, says secondary treatment systems are best for recycling the nutrients found in wastewater, by way of sub-surface irrigation. There are many kinds available, including aeration systems, reed beds, sand filters and trickle filters and some worm farms.

“With any of those higher quality secondary treatment systems, you are permitted to irrigate the effluent through the garden in the topsoil layer, where plants reuse the nutrients in the water,” Ms West says.

“Those nutrients are a resource, but septic tank trenches are too deep in the soil for most plants to access them.”

If you are planning a wastewater system in an unsewered area, Ms West suggests you first consider how you’d like to reuse the treated effluent. “Do you want to irrigate the garden, or use it in the home for toilet flushing?” she asks. “To recycle it back into the house, you need to choose a greywater treatment system approved for toilet flushing.”

But if you just want the treated water to irrigate the garden, you can use an all-waste method such as those listed above. Be aware that you must only use an EPA-approved onsite treatment system, and must obtain a permit from your local council.

The various technologies have very different ongoing costs. “Find out how often the system has to be serviced and how much electricity it consumes,” Ms West recommends. “Ask about the cost of spare parts and consumables – some need chlorine tablets or a new UV lamp every year.”

In Red Hill, Mr Eldridge opted for the worm farm system because it requires minimal ongoing maintenance and no chemical additives, and uses little power. “We have a small pump at the bottom of the tank, but it doesn’t run for very long,” he says. “The other advantage for us is that we can put any other organic matter in there, so it is an easy way to reduce our waste to landfill.”

The worms chomp through black and greywater, together with organic material such as vegie scraps, paper, cardboard and garden clippings. For a typical three-bedroom house, a new system costs about $8000 to $9000, including installation.

Read this article at The Age online

Martin Schoeller: Close-Up

In Culture, The Big Issue on February 3, 2011

Photographer Martin Schoeller gets up close and personal with some familiar faces.

BEFORE he takes portraits, photographer Martin Schoeller thoroughly researches his subjects. If they are actors, he watches their movies. If they are writers, he reads their books.

“A lot goes into each shoot,” the photographer told the Artinfo website in 2008. He brainstorms concepts, scouts locations and sources props. All of which seems curious, as each of his photographs looks much the same: a passport-style close-up, enlarged to epic proportions, with shallow depth of focus – the eyes and mouth are sharp, the tip of the nose and the lobes of the ears are not.

Close-Up, an exhibition of Schoeller’s portraits, is now on show at the National Portrait Gallery in Canberra. The gallery’s walls are lined with his large images, some the size of muscle-car bonnets. Almost every square inch within the frames bulge with the (mostly) famous faces they contain, from a grizzled Jack Nicholson and an alien Paris Hilton, to a waxy Christopher Walken and a crinkly Helen Mirren.

The Schoeller exhibition raises an intriguing question: is celebrity, blown up and unretouched, still just celebrity? Or does it convey something more substantial? Michael Desmond, senior curator with the gallery, admits to some initial trepidation as to how the exhibition would be received, before it opened in November. “I was a bit cautious,” he says. “I thought people were over celebrity. They’re so familiar with Brad Pitt’s face that they might not come and see this show. Interestingly, they’ve responded really well. Most people come in as fans. Some come in slightly cynically – as I did – and are then converted.”

Schoeller was born in Munich, Germany, in 1968, and studied photography in Berlin at Lette-Verein – a training more technical than artistic. At 25, he moved to New York to be an assistant to Annie Liebovitz, the renowned celebrity photographer. He has since described that time as very challenging.

“My English was not that good when I first came [to New York], and she’s extremely demanding,” he has recalled. “She doesn’t have that much patience. I got along with her very well after about a year, but the first year was very intense and not very pleasant.”

After three years, Schoeller became a freelance photographer and later began contributing to The New Yorker and other prominent magazines, including Rolling Stone, GQ and Vogue. Dissatisfied with the glamour and commercialism of conventional celebrity portraits, he devised his trademark technique. “They allow me to walk away with something for myself – a very honest, simple portrait that no publicist can say anything about. You can’t see what they’re wearing and they’re not having to do anything, so no red flags go up. Only three or four times have people refused to have a picture taken that close,” he told Artinfo.

Schoeller, who is still based in New York, uses a long lens and simple lighting in his portrait sessions. He takes about 200 frames, talking incessantly to put the sitter at ease while he seeks an expression between expressions: a moment when the subject is temporarily not posing.

His headshots are often praised for their ‘democratic’ approach. By presenting every subject the same way, regardless of their status, the photographs can invite reflection and debate on the nature of celebrity.

“The images are commissioned by high circulation magazines, so in that sense, they’re reinforcing the cult of celebrity,” Desmond observes. “But, on the other hand, the way they’re photographed undermines it. They’re not necessarily flattering. When you are confronted with the images you think about what makes these people famous. Why this person? What are the things you actually see? The size is a bait to make you question the notion of fame.

“The large scale creates a sort of false intimacy,” Desmond says. “You’re forced to make an emotional connection. There’s a feeling that the faces are really close to you. Normally people only get that close when they’re either in love with you or you’re having a fight.”

Close-Up also includes a number of portraits of Indigenous people from South Africa and Brazil, shot and presented in the same way. But given the bias towards celebrities, is ‘democratic’ really the right word for Schoeller’s approach? Arguably, it’s only democracy in the most corrupt form: a means of placating the many, while reinforcing the power of the few.

But Desmond argues: “Maybe it’s an Australian version of democracy, where we bring the rich and famous down to our level,” he says. “They’re imperfect. Barack Obama is one of the most powerful men in the world, but when you see his face in the exhibition you’re conscious of how misshapen it is. He doesn’t look particularly powerful. Even the rich and famous are mortal.”

Desmond also believes the portraits transcend notions of celebrity. “In the end, you’re conscious less of the fame and more of the physiognomy: eyes, noses, mouths. Some are beautiful, some are engaging, some are quite freaky. You see so many faces that you leave with a feeling of the breadth of humanity, which is not something you expect when you walk in.”

Close-Up is at the National Portrait Gallery, Canberra, until 13 February. See the article in The Big Issue for photos.

Container cladding and Lebanese coffee

In Blog on February 1, 2011

FOR the Urban Bush-Carpenters’ first job of the year, I arranged to meet Houda at 10 am on Saturday at the South Melbourne Park Towers community garden.

We were late, predictably. But Houda didn’t seem to mind – she was waiting patiently on a bench in the shade, with a trolley and a thermos of coffee. The garden allotments were lush and pretty at the base of the imposing public housing block.

Cultivating Community – a not-for-profit group that supports community gardening – had asked us to clad two huge steel basins with timber and build a slim, wheelchair-accessible, raised garden bed. And to do it at short notice, in time for the garden open day on Saturday 5 February.

We began at our customary slow pace by sitting for a fine while and devouring Danish pastries. Houda poured us a small cup of Lebanese coffee – the first of many treats she brought for us throughout the day.

“It’s strong and sweet,” said Ste, who looked tired from the night before. “The ideal qualities of an Urban Bush-Carpenter.”

Houda told us she used to grow lots of food on her land in Lebanon, but had left nearly 30 years ago because of the Israel-Lebanon war. The community garden at South Melbourne Park Towers opened three years ago, and it was the first chance she’d had to grow veggies since arriving in Australia. She has become the garden’s caretaker.

We had a simple job, and once Houda gently suggested that it was time we begin work, we hopped to it. Geoff and Andrew measured and cut the lengths while Ste and I bought the long ‘bugle head batten’ screws (which have an internal hex drive, the kind an Allen key fits into). They’re good heavy-duty fasteners for timber joins because they give a no-fuss countersunk finish – they don’t stick out, like a chunky-headed coach screw would.

We made rectangular collars, stacked them together and slotted the sinks in. The containers will host a nectarine and an avocado tree – may they fruit abundantly. We didn’t have enough timber for the wheelchair-friendly raised garden bed, so we’ll return one night this week to finish it off. All in all, Houda was pleased. 

Houda

Houda, Andrew, Ste and Michael.

Heritage eco-renos

In Blog on January 31, 2011

Wanted: Heritage homeowners who’ve done an eco renovation.

This is a slightly unusual post for me, but I received this enquiry from Paula Judson, who is studying the eco-chops of heritage buildings. She’s looking for people to participate in her research. 

“As part of a research study on heritage buildings and environmental performance, I am seeking to interview households (in Victoria) that live in a heritage dwelling about: the issues experience/d in upgrading a heritage dwelling to higher standards of environmental performance; their values and priorities; and how conflicts between protecting heritage and interventions to improve energy performance are dealt with.”

“I would like to hear from home owners who have recently undertaken renovations (within the last 2 years), are currently renovating, or about to commence renovations to improve the environmental performance of their heritage dwelling (this may include modifying the existing building, upgrading the services, or extending the existing dwelling), either using professionals in the construction sector or ‘do-it-yourself’.”

Does that sound like you? Contact Paula: paula.judson@student.rmit.edu.au

Bottling with Fowlers Vacola

In Greener Homes on January 30, 2011

Bottling your own fruit and tomatoes saves money and much more.

It’s nearly harvest time: tomatoes are heavy on the vine and full fruits are ripening on trees. The glut need not go to waste because an old-time Australian invention can help you guzzle it for the rest of the year.

In 1915, Joseph Fowler began selling home-bottling equipment door-to-door in Melbourne, from the back of a cart. During the depression, his kits – known as Fowlers Vacola – became an essential item. At that time, the company’s ads featured an illustration of a dainty housewife by the name of Mrs B. Thrifty.

His bottling system is now finding favour with an altogether different generation. Footscray resident Janet Ray learnt the knack from her grandmother decades ago and has become a Fowlers enthusiast. She’s not alone.

“It’s thriving,” Ms Ray says, “particularly among people who want to know where their food comes from and want to reduce their carbon footprint through the way they eat. Once you get started it’s quite addictive – you look at fruit on trees in a totally different way.

“It’s something that not only creates no waste, but actually uses excess. Our recycling bin is empty, and we’re not using the fridge or freezer to maintain the fruit.”

Ms Ray shares her knowledge by running occasional workshops through the Permaculture Out West community group.

The process is straightforward, she says. Fill clean jars with unblemished fruit and add water (and sugar or fruit syrup, if you have a sweet tooth) to just below the rim. Clip on the lids and bring the jars to the boil over the course of one hour, in a water bath. When the jars cool down out of the water, the seals form a vacuum.

“It’s only for bottling high acid fruit, including tomatoes,” Ms Ray says. “Everything is sterilised in the process. Store the jars in a cool dark place and they’ll easily keep for up to a year.”

She stocks her jars with produce she grows at home, swaps or buys in bulk. “We save so much money. I never pay more than $1 per kilo for fruit to bottle, even at the organic market,” she says.

She recommends buying Fowlers jars second-hand from opshops or tip-shops. A dozen reusable jars can cost under $50, including the lids, seals and clips.

A few years ago, Ms Ray discovered a cache of Fowlers equipment at a fete run by St Margaret’s Uniting Church in Mooroolbark.

Through that network, she has established an informal supply chain extending well into country Victoria. The jars are sold to raise money for pastoral care services in Wycheproof, in the state’s drought ravaged north-west.

We’ve got this symbiotic relationship with the people of Wycheproof,” she says. “Any time someone in the aging population around there comes across a kit, they send it on. There’s been a steady flow over the last few years.”

With hindsight, the link doesn’t seem so unlikely. Ms Ray has found bottling to be a consistently rich means of connection with the community.

“People find out that you bottle and they’ll ring you up with fruit or drop it off at your door,” she says.

“It’s one of those old fashioned things that people long for, where you’re industrious together, to an end that meets everybody’s needs.”

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