I’m not sure when I first heard about the Newport weekender. A Dutch family lived there for eleven and a half years: the family was a bit of a mystery, appearing on the beach seemingly from nowhere and disappearing to nowhere. I’ve since learnt that ‘nowhere’ was and still is an overgrown track that starts behind the dressing sheds at the southern corner of Newport Beach, winds its way up between shadowing Norfolk Island pines, across a moist, shadowed rock shelf until it reaches an old timber gate in the backyard of a time warp. A weekender built in the 1920s by the father of the late Max Dupain, whose body of work, predominately black and white, stretches over six decades.
This story and photography by Bruce Usher feature Volume 2:2 -take a sneak peek at some other selected articles from Volume 2:2, read the editorial or purchase the digital edition here – GOQ Volume 2:2