Peter Siddell is well known for his highly detailed depictions of Auckland's distinctive surrounds. An early-morning paper round that he did as a child left on him a lasting impression of the city which formulates much of his contemporary practice. In this composition, two historic buildings on Auckland's Ponsonby ridge are set against a fictional backdrop. The buildings are rearranged to satisfy Siddell's compositional needs and, whilst realism has never been Siddell's singular goal, there is an undeniable familiarity in the work. We know the distinctive buildings and it takes a moment to realise they are subtly misplaced. We know they lie on the eastern side of the road, but not in their present positions. We know too, that the ridge falls away to the sea, but the harbour view below is not how it should appear. The scene, too, is bereft of life, cars, boats, animals, power lines; it is silent, emptied out. This pervading emptiness does not render the work desolate, as might be expected; instead there is a sense of possibility. The scene is beautifully executed, evoking tranquillity not often found in the hustle and bustle of the city. Siddell presents us with an idealised image of the kind of place in which we all want to live, suffused with golden light and a calm vista. Looking at Siddell's views of Auckland is, in short, like being in the twilight zone. They're reassuringly disquieting, and their beautiful contradiction compels our attention with a delightful, if somewhat unnerving, magnetism. Sarah McCrory