Monday, 3 March 2014

First Breath

A close friend of mine lost her husband recently. He died in her arms.

Through the many years they spent together they breathed the same air, walked the same earth and saw the same sun rise and set each day. Their breath combined to make a beautiful son who has breathed his way into manhood.

At the funeral there were photographs of her husband, young, cheeky, inquisitive and then older, wiser.
He had a keen interest in the study of all cultures and beliefs of life and afterlife, traveled extensively and loved nature. He had a warm heart and an open mind.


The morning mist rises up out of our valley, taking with it the combined breath wrapped dreams from 2,721 people...men, women and children who spent the night dreaming and breathing the same air, together.




Wednesday, 5 February 2014

Classy

Update: New classes in 2014 for adults and young adults.
 
 
YOU CAN DRAW! starts Monday 10th February
Drawing classes for adults and young adults Mondays in the Bellingen Memorial Hall Supper Room 
from 4.30 - 6 pm.
$15 pp includes most materials.
We'll start at the very beginning and proceed with exercises related to individual progress, learn how to regularly keep a beautiful, creative journal to record your progress and ideas. It's gonna be fun!

ART FOR YOUNG ADULTS starts 11th February
12 years and up Tuesdays in the Bellingen Memorial Hall Supper Room from 3.30 - 5 pm.
$15 pp includes most materials.
Come and have fun with a variety of art mediums in a session with it's roots in drawing.
See my website for more details and booking information.

Wednesday, 18 December 2013

Noel Who?

 

Christmas kinda died with my mother a few years ago.

Sorry mum, but I just can't do it the way you did...
 
making everything wonderful for everyone else, doing food the same way every year - cooking pudding no matter how damned hot, decorating the house, moving all the goddam furniture for a plastic tree no one notices is there and then going to church - once a year. Merging the pagan and the Christian rituals always seemed really silly - especially down this end of the planet. Then there's fretting about whether someone will like that cheap whatever I've given them.

The worst thing about Christmas is the feeling that you have to have it.

Yep, Christmas has died...argh! did I say that?...louder!...'CHRISTMAS HAS DIED' But it sounds as if it might come back to life and so only 'CHRISTMAS IS DEAD!' will cut the cheese on this one.

I feel relieved, free, unfettered.
I can enjoy summer without feeling guilty that my festivities are only contributing to the loneliness of all those who haven't a family to pull crackers with...I will have no festivities...

'I WILL HAVE NO FESTIVITIES!'

The statement makes me feel joyous and loving toward my fellow man.
 ^^
=*=

Tuesday, 22 October 2013

Face Lift

Staying on top of aging has never been easier.


Last Christmas I attended a week long music festival in Queensland.
I went alone.
I was single again, free, I could go wherever I wanted, whenever I wanted.
I was young again. A new woman. Reborn.
For six days I danced, laughed and applauded and on the seventh I rested.

New Year's morning, on my back, in my tent, reluctant to pack up and drive the long drive home, I rummaged for a mirror to apply a bit of makeup.
I gazed sleepily into my reflection, suddenly startled by the image that greeted me.

A younger, fresher me looked back.
Gone were the worry lines on my brow, the laugh creases at my mouth and crows feet edging my eyes. In their place was smooth skin, bright and new.

'Crikey' I exclaimed to no-one ' all this dancing and having fun has taken years off my aging face!' and 'it REALLY IS TRUE what they say about having a good time.'

My new found youth lasted only a minute.

Checking my earrings, I found my wrinkles hiding behind them, sniggering and chortling...

This revelation complicates for me the question of who is on top.
Do you look into the face of your aging partner? or do you let him see the aging you, as all your excess skin falls forward, diminishing your eyes and swelling your jowls? Lucky our sight worsens as our bodies do.
Making love in the dark is much underrated and me thinks it's kinda sexy.
^^
=+=

Wednesday, 28 August 2013

60's something

I was younger than I would like to have been in the 60's. Now I'm older than I'd like to be, but at least I'm not as old as I would be if I had been as old as I would like to have been in the 60's.

Back then my parents had parties for every special occasion.

They played vinyls on a record player that skipped when they fox trotted too heavily on the wooden floor in our lounge room.

My Aunty Pat would always arrive looking wonderful and stayed that way until the end.

Dad and my Aunty Pat

Aunty Pat was a great hostess, Always gorgeous and up to date with fashion. When Aunty Pat sported the latest beehive hairdo I had to copy.

I didn't know why my mother was amused when, on the morning of one of my Aunt's visits, I emerged from the bathroom with a bouffant that could have hidden half a dozen of her apple tarts within its intriguing puff.

Perhaps she spied the scrunched up comic section of the Sunday paper under the thin layer of hair on top of my beaming eight years young face.

I thought I looked as cool as Aunty Pat did.

I was twice teased that day.
^^
=*=

Saturday, 17 August 2013

Pony Express

Many years ago, A long time agoWhen I was a little girl, When I was young, my mother often took me to visit my cousin in Lewisham.

My cousin had a rocking horse.


Not one of the small ones like in the picture above but one of those closer to the size of the real thing when you're four.

You know the ones. It was so big it was supported by a heavy wooden base and had strong metal struts through to a wooden brace from one end to the other - and real stirrups! It was made of wood and had a leather saddle and a rope mane and tail.

Hey, it was kinda like this one

Photo from Instructibles in the U.K.

I remember climbing up onto it after curiosity took over my fear.
I can still imagine embracing it's neck and the endless rhythm and sound of metal grinding as I urged that thing on and on.
I remember that after a while I pushed that pony to it's limit and it was heading for the door.

Of course all too quickly I grew up and rode real horses, live ones that bolted for home when it was time.

Now I think it must be terribly frustrating to be a rocking horse, standing in one spot and going back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, and to imagine a real horse behaving in such a manner is downright silly.
^^
=!=

Friday, 19 July 2013

Pas de Quatre

I didn't want to be a ballerina when I was a girl.
I'm still a girl (stroke woman - ?) and I still don't want to be a ballerina.
But sometimes I wish I had wanted to be one.


However, when I was a younger girl, I could still fully appreciate the distinct resemblance the flowers at our back door step had to ballerinas.


This is a painting I have in an exhibition at the Nexus Gallery in my home town. They are Fuchsias and named after Leonhart Fuchs. I had spelled it Fuschia and luckily our wonderful gallery coordinator was on the ball and corrected my mistake for the label.
 

If Emma has to tell us how to say it then I might not be the only one who writes it incorrectly.
I wouldn't want to be a Mr Leonhart Fuchs at school in this day and age.
^^
=+=

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