Flinders Lane, Melbourne

In early March, 2008, we ran a series of three writing workshops with writer Nadia Wheatley, at Ross House in Flinders Lane, in Melbourne's city centre. The workshops were a preliminary step in staging the project on the windows of the Mantra on Russell in Melbourne for ten days in April 2008 during the General Assembly of the International Council on English Braille, and the Round Table on Information Access for People with Print Disabilities Inc.

About twenty blind and low-vision people of all ages participated, some coming from as far away as Wangaratta and Gippsland (several hours from Melbourne by train). Each participant went on a one-hour walk around the nearby Melbourne streets, with a volunteer guide, parent or teacher (and the odd guide dog). Three walks were mapped out by Nadia, each with a different focus. The focus of one walk was on Chinatown and the Greek precinct; another was Federation Square and the Yarra River; a third was Parliament House and Spring Street.

Back at Ross House after the walks, an assortment of brailling machines, laptops and the occasional pen and paper materialised on one large central table, to record the impressions that were about to be unpacked. Not everyone could read and write in braille so volunteer guides quickly changed hats to became volunteer scribes. For the next hour or so, voices, braillers and keyboards mixed and mingled in a strange new polyphony, on its way towards the next iteration of the Braille Window Project.

Braille bytes

Textures

Passing Daryl Lee, the strong scent of licorice: yum!

The round concrete slab in Premier's lane with 'Peace and Prosperity' engraved on it. The contrast between the smoothness of the metal and the roughness of the concrete.

Mud on my feet as I walk through the grass.

The touch of my dog's harness in my hand as she guides me around obstacles.

K. F.

It was a new experience to let myself go and touch things with my hands - a sculpture, perhaps, or a pillar on the Windsor Hotel. As I am a guide dog user, I don't often touch my surroundings. I just walk past, not knowing that a statue of a lion is sitting beside me. In the park, there was a pond without water, although around it there were plants: fronds with succulent stems. One was broken, which seemed sad for some reason. Statues in bronze of the premiers were 'larger than life', cold, their facial features and clothing were so detailed. It was liberating to be allowed to touch rather than being told not to.

J. H.

Getting around Melbourne

I turned sixty last year and I always think of Melbourne from when I was a kid. I travelled into the city by myself for the first time over forty-five years ago-scared shitless I was. Mum hid on the tram to watch over me.

I've used guide dogs around Melbourne for thirty-five years - I'm very mobile with my guide dog. All my dogs have had different personalities. My current dog, Mitcham, is very interested in the smells and sounds and tastes of city. He remembers the way to places. Sometimes pigeons and other birds intimidate him when they start flapping near his head, searching for food.

A. S.

Bring on the Braille! (Interview)

Jordie: As far as braille goes - I teach it, I read it, I use it all the time. It's part of me. It's hard to talk about what reading braille means to me, because it has always been a part of my life, ever since I was four or five years old. It's hard to differentiate life from it.

Krista: Bring on the braille, I say! Braille is extremely important to me. For those of you who don't use braille, I'd say that I think braille is for me what print is for you. I could not live without braille. It's the way I read, and sometimes the way I communicate. I work in a school so I use braille as a way of communicating with my students. For me, braille is a very important communication tool, as well as something I use for reading.

Stories in Stone

Cobblestones forming a lane off Little Burke talk of how they were once ballast that was used on ships. Now they're silent and sad, alone amongst the grit of rough sand that takes the polish off these stones to form dust - taking the glory of the cobblestones to mundane flatness.

J. D.

Delight

The statue of Adam Gordon Lindsay is set high, so that I have to reach on tippy-toe to feel him. I grope, feel a smooth, hard hand under my trained fingers. The hand is holding something. I start with delight when I recognise it's a book. And between his spread feet there's a bag - a satchel, for holding papers and books. I feel proud I can work this out just by touch.

K. M.

Braille as a Form of Transport (Interview)

Deb: I just love reading braille. I can be transported into the text. I can read it in silence, I'm getting the spelling under my fingers. As for writing - writing is a vent for me. I convert day-to-day things into metaphors and stories.

In the past

Dry gentle breeze.
Warm sunny open space.
Clean water, fresh air.
The smell of eucalyptus after the rain.
The rustle of leaves in the branches.
Feeling of freedom, in the unrestricted land.

M. E.

There is the sound of wind rustling among the dry bushes of the scrub, accompanied by the screeching of birds taking off a branches. Women collecting a pile of wood for the afternoon meal are speaking to each other in their traditional language, which flows rumbling in a relaxed and soothing way.

T. K.

Learning Braille (Interview)

Gaynor: Braille is all very new to me. I'm still learning braille, actually, I don't know all the letters of the alphabet yet, but with Jordie's good teaching, I will know them all very soon. I'm a very big reader, and I know I'm going to find it very useful. I'm getting more excited about it each day, although I was very nervous at the beginning.

Exploring the environment

On River Terrace, the sounds and smells are mostly those of preparation for people to enjoy food and wine in a variety of tents. There is a prevalence of coffee, but suddenly a delightful fleeting sense of freshness comes from a salad tent. When I hear the engine of a boat, and smell the sharp fumes of diesel, this brings the river to my perception, and my sense of geography is suddenly clearer.

Walking the open space towards the Yarra, I would have expected the land to slope downwards towards the river, because of the natural way that land is carved by water. However, the concrete sub-structure has been built up, and the buildings are therefore raised way up - perhaps in order to avoid possible flooding.

At the river's edge, my stick goes straight down - not as it would have done with a natural embankment. Clearly this is a very defined wall to the water.

I long to encompass my environment. I long to garner the detail of the territory. I have had a cartographic sense of the Melbourne CBD for a long time, but when I walked today with my companion, this territory grew for me. She also loved meeting the environment, so she filled it in for me - she gave something of what I hunger for.

Can I open my heart's eye, now?

R. M.