‘The sky is starkly, coldly clear for the opening-night event, The Rumble. The procession of mining trucks was once an annual Christmastime happening. Tonight, the distant thunder of the trucks and the initial hammer chimes of the composition resonate ominously through Queenstown’s streets before headlights appear through the first dark and The Rumble grinds towards the heart of the town.’
The result was loud and long as the trucks and engines manoeuvred into position, their lights monstrous in the evening dark. But it was more than just a show of industrial might. Some trucks carried things, encouraging a deeper interpretation of the whole event. There was an immense hollow log that had delicate ferns literally growing on and within it. Another vehicle carried what looked like damaged and mud-encrusted mining equipment. Both of these were expertly lit, and thus unavoidable in their contrast and narrative of endings and renewal. The thunderous sound was lent a melancholy edge by this clever presentation, and the question of what was being celebrated hung in the air with a surprising poignancy. What happens when mining ends? What happens to people, and to the land they live and work on?