Gothic is a literary tradition encompassing themes of alienation, oppression and degradation. Gothic literature is typically written in a disorienting, sinister tone highlighting the subtle desolation of places and times. Whilst traditionally associated with Southern Gothic from the United States, gothic modalities have become imbued in the voices of Australian media. Australian films such as Wake in Fright (1971), Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975), Wolf Creek (2005) and The Proposition (2005) are representative of genre in its own right, the Australian Gothic.
The bloody brutality of colonial settlement, the isolation of existence as a empire's southern outpost, our criminal ancestry - these are all embeded in our landscapes and history. Artists have long revealed and perpetuated anxieties of not belonging to the land since settlement. The bush is portrayed as a simultaneously vast and claustrophobic space, at once sublime and grotesque.
"The Australian mountain forests are funereal, secret, stern. Their solitude is desolation. They seem to stifle in their black gorges a story of sullen despair. No tender sentiment is nourished in their shade… The very animal life of these frowning hills is either grotesque or ghostly. Great grey kangaroos hop noiselessly over the coarse grass. Flights of white cockatoos stream out shrieking like evil souls. The sun suddenly sinks, and mopokes burst out into horrible peals of semi-human laughter… All is fear-inspiring and gloomy."
- Marcus Clarke, 1876
Even more contemporary is 'location gothic' originating on microblogging website: Tumblr. Location gothic, like its antecedents evoke similar themes of (un)belonging, alienation and melancholy the tone however, is generally more ironic and satirical.Location gothic is not only a vessels for exploring and critiquing the unspoken oddities that connect people to place but also as a way to connect to strangers through the identity of their homes. The content concerns ideas of urban degradation, gentrification, late stage capitalism and poor government.
Below are a few selected works of location gothic sourced from around the internet.
There’s a bar on Chapel Street where if you open the door to the walk in freezer, there’s another bar inside, where the air is slightly cooler. If you open the freezer door in that bar there’s also another bar inside. You try to leave. The door opens onto another bar. And another. And another. You keep running. Ice frosts the bottles. Your breath mists the air. You keep running.
You walk through Melbourne Emporium, you’re pretty sure there were only five floors, you’re definitely sure that it couldn’t have been more than eight floors. But the floor you’re on says it’s the fifteen, but this can’t be, you scream. The shops look like you have seen them before, but it’s none of the familiar brands you know. You are alone, the woman in front of a store asks you if you need any help. It’s too late now, they’ve caught you.
A new bar opens on Sydney Road. It has a pan-Asian theme. Smiling white people bring you a cocktail named after a massacre. You sip it and think, This is reality now.
The ground shakes as a tram goes past Flinders Street Station, you know that one day the asphalt will crumble beneath your feet and the ground will consume you.
You read about how Elizabeth street used to be a river. You find it hard to cross Elizabeth street now, let alone catch the number 19 tram upstream towards your home. You can feel the river seep into your shoes and soak the bottom on your jeans. The ghost river carves the city up in a way far worse than the Yarra ever did. Whole blocks are cut off from you, cafes and shops you used to frequent, routes you used to take on your way from here to there. And this is before you start thinking about tributaries. You buy gumboots and look at those waders that fishermen wear – could you wear them without losing your job? You feel like you are throwing things into the ghost river that will never be returned.
A new apartment block is being constructed: a great gaudy monolith, a testament to man’s never-ending pursuit to touch the face of God. You walk past, continuing on your way. You see another new apartment block being constructed: a great gaudy monolith, a testament to man’s never-ending pursuit to touch the face of God. This is not a suburb, but rather a graveyard: you are simply walking among the tombstones.