Tim Gentles: January 2026

Tim Gentles is an interdisciplinary researcher and activist focused on the intersections of social and ecological crises. He visited Plumwood Mountain in January 2026, working on some texts arising from his PhD and some others prompted by the mountain.

Tim in the garden (photo credit: Tim Gentles, 2026)

Tim reflects on his residency:

It is hard to stay focused on a writing project in a place like this. Here I found my curiosity perpetually tugged in seven directions at once. Constantly noting small things to clean or fix, a new book jumping out at me from the library, a ‘look at that insect!’ or ‘what’s that plant?’. The mountain seemed to always be revealing itself, from subtle tweaks of humidity and light, to the mood-setting shimmer-sounds of air through foliage, and the chatter of frog and bird. Sometimes these changes were more substantial. My visit began in the clouds, Val’s house presenting a cosy landing place in a cool, dark, closed-in world of tall forest shadows emerging and retreating into the dense fog. Then came the storms, tropical, large thunderheads appearing abruptly with a flash and a furious downpour. And then the heatwave, three days of 39 degrees, the stone octagon transformed into a place of cool shady respite from the oven-hot westerlies. Each of these shifts drawing me in to dance with the enfolding and affecting atmospheres of the place, always inviting new paths of investigation and reflection.

The stone house (photo by Tim Gentles, 2026)

Writing at Val’s desk (photo by Tim Gentles, 2026).

So why sit in front of a keyboard? The bush conjured up greater gliders, funnel webs, gang gangs. I looked out over precious Yuin country towards the Budawangs and offered up lyrebird feathers on Val’s grave. I read some of her work that I hadn’t encountered before, marveled at her vinyl record collection and imagined her strumming the autoharp around a campfire at the somewhere-or-other folk festival. I wrote some things too. A bit of what I set out to write and a bunch that came forth unexpectedly. No breakthroughs or major revelations, but soon enough came a calm realisation that I was settling into the ebb and flow of the place. I wouldn’t be imposing any hangover-from the-neoliberal-university productivity agenda here. The mountain set the tone and I gratefully accepted.

Val’s grave (photo by Tim Gentles, 2026)

Thanks for visiting, Tim!