A journey through North Lismore

The early years: 1990s

My connection with North Lismore began in 1995 when I moved there to study visual arts at the university. My sister and her baby, who is turning 30 next year, joined me shortly after to live in a beautiful old house on Terania Street near the river. The house was great but a bit a little run-down, the rent was incredibly cheap, and oddly, we never paid a phone or electricity bill the entire year we lived there.

Our house was near what is now the location for the Living Memory popup photoshoot on Bridge Street. Back then, it was a food co-op, later becoming the Blue Tongue café. I have fond memories of taking my niece for walks down Wotherspoon Street to the park, where she bravely climbed the slippery slide, those old-fashioned ones that were like a scorching hill in summer.

I know that this wasn't everybody's experience, but for me, North Lismore in the 90s felt like this golden period where rent was cheap, and people could afford to live in a way that allowed more space and time for creativity. It was an absolute privilege to have had this opportunity when I was younger.

The 2000s: A vibrant community

Around 2005, I lived in the house connected to the roller-skating rink. It was a wild experience, especially on Fog Night when "Who Let The Dogs Out" would boom up through the floor. The roller-skating rink was an integral part of North Lismore's story, hosting birthday parties and providing entertainment for kids and adults alike.

Living on Wotherspoon Street was an incredible time. The area had a strong sense of community, with places like the Rainforest Information Centre, the Winsome Hotel, and the Serpentine Gallery bringing people together. We'd share dinners with neighbours, attend art openings, and shop at the organic markets on a Tuesday morning. The community was a creative bunch, where newcomers and long-time residents alike felt at home.

North Lismore was known for its affordability, attracting students and artists to its large, run-down houses. The Winsome Hotel was a hub for creativity, hosting exhibitions and experimental performance nights. On these performance nights, we'd do things like walk around wearing weird outfits made from foam-stuffed stockings. I can't imagine many other pubs being up for this.

Other significant spots included 20,000 Cows, a vegan restaurant run by our friend Murray, and the Blue Tongue Café. There was something about North Lismore during this time. It had a kind of kismet, and these venues were a big part of this.

A Home of Our Own

In our 40s, my sister and I pooled our resources to buy a house on Simmons Street. We were so proud that we were able to do this. Named "The Cedars," we purchased it from Claire Twomey, one of the founders of the Knitting Nannas. The house came complete with chickens, who became a beloved part of our lives. We took pride in caring for them, and mixing tea tree, rosemary, and bay leaves from the garden to create mite-resistant bedding.

Our house became a sanctuary not just for us, but for friends and family who visited. The house was full during events like Tropical Fruits, and friends displaced during the bushfires found a home there, too.

The Italian Influence

The Italo Club was another significant part of North Lismore's character. It had a real family feel and eating at their pasta buffet felt like a way to support the community. To me, the club also represented the rich history of Italian migrants in the area. Though the club struggled even before the floods, its impact on the community was undeniable.

Rivers and bridges: The heart of North Lismore

Living in North Lismore meant developing a deep connection with the rivers and bridges. Walking across the bridge into town was a transformative experience for me, marking the transition between home and work. When I crossed the river, I was able to switch into my work time and then my home time on the way back.

These walks allowed for human connections that wouldn't have been possible from a car. They also allowed me to observe the river, and I've incorporated walking, observing, foraging, and being outside into my art practice.

I love it where Leycester Creek and Wilsons River meet. It’s like the waters are kissing. When there’s a flood, it’s really passionate - calm down, guys, calm down!

The 2022 Flood: A Turning Point

When we came out of the flood waters, rescued by the SES, I heard the guy on the radio say, "You need to take these people to the Winsome because the Ballina Bridge is about to go under" and I thought, how is this possible? Is this the end of the world? I couldn’t never have imagined the Ballina Bridge going under water. That’s when we knew this flood was serious. When we got on to the SES boat there were a few older people on the street. They were real Northies and they had more experience with floods than me, I was amazed by how calm they were, and I guess also when you’re in shock you can do amazing things.

There is a fella called Jack who lives across the road from our place. I’d say that he has lived there for most of his life, and in the house across from ours for 50 years. In the 2017 flood, Jack stayed in his house. We left and the water didn’t come up into the house, so we thought we were going to be ok this time, too. All of our neighbours were saying the same, but now we know it wasn’t ok. I don’t think anybody could have predicted that. Jack said that he had never experienced anything like this. He was in his 90s and swore that he would never leave.

After the floods we worked hard on cleaning our house up and had many of our wonderful family and friends help and support us. I lived for a while in a caravan outside the house while work was being done to make our house liveable again. I lived back in the house for about six months and before being offered a buyback, like many of the people in our street.

I haven’t been back to house for a little while and I’ve tried walking down the street a few times and it was too much for me. I had to walk away for a minute. I really wanted to see how our lime tree was going and collect any mail from the mailbox before the snails got to it.

This community has been disrupted by this flood, as has our connection to each other. This is why I started doing the Collage Club after the floods at The Lismore Quad outside the Lismore Regional Gallery - I wanted people to have a place that they could connect, feel safe and not have to worry about the cost. The tactile creativity and care are important, as is the ability to share stories gently without any pressure. It felt like a service that I understood and could provide to my community.

Reflections and hope for the future 

There is a kind of pragmatism that goes along with living with floods. My love of the river hasn’t changed at all, but I do feel like maybe it’s not the right place to live right on the flood plain. It feels like we are living in the way of the river there, and I want people to be safe.

I’m not an expert, but I have seen some of the ideas that have come out of Living Lab Northern Rivers and love seeing how we are moving toward a way of living that is more sustainable and respectful of the land. I think any way we move forward needs to involve both the community and the people who have the power to make the changes, and it has to be done with local Elders who understand this place. We have to be imaginative and look toward other communities that have adapted in creative ways.