Bluff is a venerable place for New Zealand. Probably the first place settled by whites. Yet it sits in the farthest of the South Island, just buttressed from being last stop before Antarctica by the small, wild Stewart Island. You can get a taste of remoteness here. Most Kiwis have never visited the place.

Bluff has been considerably more prosperous than now. Invercargill 50 miles up the road has captured most of the action. Groupings of no longer used commercial buildings speckle the small downtown facing the commercial wharf. The winds of the Southern Ocean make Bluff a bedraggled sort of place: cold, tattered. But it remains famous for the wild Bluff Oyster and to a lesser extent blue cod, fisheries.

The Foveaux Hotel echoes some art deco touches in the town. The name is taken from the Strait between the South Island and Stewart Island.

Some artists have made a home here. Clever statuettes all on a theme.

It’s supremely difficult to revitalize large old commercial buildings and make it economically viable. Cheers for trying.