I first saw the remote desert mining town of Broken Hill during a dramatic dust storm which turned the sky into the colour of mud and gave the fantastic industrial landscape a distinctly apocalyptic quality. I took an immediate liking to this subject because of the mysterious shrine like quality of the shiny new green box on its pedestal protected by the fluorescent safety webbing set in a site of general dereliction.

There is an exagerated cheesiness about the cartoonish wooden baulks, the Calvary cross of the utility pole outlined against a menacing black cloud, the sinister outsize ventilators and the broken Stalag style lights. It's a Mad Max landscape complemented by the pink sky, toxic looking rock face and long shadows diagonally slashing the composition. These post industrial El Greco qualities may seem improbable but the reality of the location was only massaged lightly to meet these aesthetic needs.