S
pend long enough in Tasmania,
and you’ll hear stories about the
people who live in its backwoods
and how a combination of convict history
and isolation leads to madness. But it won’t
be until you arrive at Peter Bignell’s farm
outside Hobart that you might start to
believe them.
First, there’s the industrial clothes dryer.
Sitting at the edge of the 18th-century stable,
it’s been jerry-rigged for malting. Vats of
used cooking oil are scattered through
the yard, waiting for their turn to heat the
homemade copper still inside the barn. A
repurposed Mixmaster acts as a fuel pump,
while a meat grinder stops sprouted rye
from growing further.
WINTER 2019 // 25