The Auckland races is the Grand National for New Zealand, minus the inevitable horse deaths thanks to the lack of hedge jumping. As is the case with all horse racing events, it’s an excuse for women to wear stupid hats and for everybody to get drunk in the sun. Not to mention a way to waste what money you have left from Christmas the literal day before on poorly advised bets.
I’ve been sat on these pictures for almost three years and looking at them has been oddly painful. At the time I felt completely isolated despite being in the company of some amazing people. I had recently made a joint decision in moving on from a long term partner. Being on the opposite side of the world, at christmas having nobody to share it with is something I will probably do again, but not without being mentally prepared for it. The races are always on Boxing day, still being hungover from the
days weeks prior, I continued my binge whilst wearing a suit I had rented for a work event a few days before.
I honestly couldn’t tell you what I was drinking, who I spoke to or what I had physically experienced on this day, I don’t know if I’d smoked weed or if I had opted for a bottle of wine before heading to the tracks. My rampage of killing brain cells during this time has obviously discouraged any specific memories from sticking. What I do know is it was hot as fuck and everybody around me seemed relatively happy.
My need to take pictures is probably a distraction from my inability to take the risk of having an engaging conversation with somebody on a human level. Fortunately the pictures help fill in the blanks and I can use them as back-up memories filling in the scents and sounds with a creative desire to believe the memories are real.