The Observer 

There’s a memorial sculpture at a large intersection in Kew, Melbourne 

which is captivating for a few reasons. One is the unlikely assemblage 

of rocks with a bronze bust at the summit and the other is the date 

that’s meant to tell you the person’s life span which is left open-ended 

making Raoul Wallenberg - a Swedish humanitarian who rescued thousands of Jews in Hungary during World War II - 109 years old.

Its casual assemblage and unfinished timeline is of course all part of 

its brilliance, Karl Duldig was an incredible sculptor.

 

In a similar way, ‘The Observer’ is an assemblage of rocks and bronze 

strata, with the head of a regal black crow. Its stone wingspan reaches wide, her presence strong and imposing.

 

Long walks have brought more birds into my life recently. I’ll stop to 

watch them and then realise that I’m being watched as well - we’re both 

just staring, thinking we’re the Observer. The assemblage appears 

precarious, rocks balanced on one another as a marker of time. When life becomes busy again, will I cease to stop and enjoy these moments or is 

this a lovely part of the forced slow-down?

 

The incomplete date on Raoul Wallenberg's memorial to me implies that he's around, watching events unfold. If he was still fit and alive, who 

would he be helping now?