The Gold Coast is all about perspective.
Arriving at Coolangatta airport is a surreal experience. On descent, the plane wing dips down, appearing to graze the surface of the bejewelled ocean below. Lego block buildings collect like sand on the shores of the eastern coastline as ears pop and children cry. Touching down, the humiliation of walking down the shuddering silver steps is met by the warm slap of humid air. Welcome to paradise.
There is a 1970s Miami-Beach-aesthetic-gloss that drips from coconut-oiled bodies and glassy high-rises alike. They litter the golden sands like used condoms, washed up on the shore from a schoolies cruise that may have sunk just off Currumbin. In the backwaters of the Isle of Capri, swimming pools caress the shores of canals where the occasional shark lets loose and deflates a dinghy or two. The sheen is paper thin yet the reality is not as dire as one might believe.
Beating beneath the fake tans and sun-kissed skin is an Australian heart. It is a heart that beats proudly with fear, joy and pride in an arrhythmic struggle against its own transparency. The image, the surface and the faded pastels of a once tropical Adonis shine on regardless of the season.
- Marion Piper, 2014
The Gold Coast: Three Photographers