dodging raindrops in the Press Steet Gardens

the second session in New Orleans was held in the Press Street Gardens
an area of lush abundance managed by Margee Green
and her assistant Elliot 

the colours of the first dyepot were luscious

and things just kept getting better

rain blessed us every day

but despite being soaked everybody remained cheerful

and produced beautiful work

i spent my last day in New Orleans at work in the garden

setting up a new project that will carry me through until 2018

- more of that in a future post

for now i have dragged myself away from Louisiana
and am somewhere in Colorado
en route to Canada

Walkin to New Orleans

Well, not quite walking.

Flying, if I'm honest, this evening

Meanwhile I've been staying with my friend Claudia Grau
and slinging a few things into a dye pot on her deck
overlooking (and happily avoiding) the mayhem that is pre-Oscars Hollywood

and now it's raining, which is a fine thing for California 

as they're on the verge of running out of water

not so good for my boots.

Good thing I'm NOT walkin to New Orleans !

in which the Dogs Above have mercy

it rained today
and i was very grateful
we've had a record 13 days above 40 C this summer
[that translates as 104F and above]
the highest was 46 [114.8]
too warm for this bear

you may have noticed i was getting a bit crabby in recent posts

but today's puddles cheered me up enormously
despite the deceased rat that was discovered in a rainwater tank
- now thankfully removed, along with the sullied water

i took to the paddocks with a cauldron
and some silk
gathering material from the ground
and packing it in the pot
for stewing back in the house

also delighted that the Mansfield retreat is attracting commitments

and is 25% filled already, even though November is a ways off
details on my website near the bottom of the page


and in case you'd like to look at old stories from Mansfield

here are some
and some more
and then from 2010

at last

at long last

in this dusty corner of

the driest state

on the driest continent

it is raining. not much

but enough to lift the spirits

housekeeping becomes a challenge for small arachnids

the resident goose is happy again

me too, i'm having raspberry lassie for breakfast

 

 the whirled is bedecked in moonstones

[my favourite gem]

 

all Sam wants is a lap

unfortunately for him, Felix is firmly in possession

hang em high

i arrived at the gallery at 12 noon, the appointed time
having trotted bravely through horizontal rain with work in tow
the wind was so strong that my wheeled bag blew out horizontally behind me from time to time
the sort of weather in which you could ride a skateboard uphill
if you didn't mind becoming utterly sodden

fortunately i had the good sense to invest in some cutting edge fashion whilst in my beloved Vermont
where [at the Fairlee Feed Store, an excellent establishment run by delightful people where you can buy all sorts of really useful stuff] i equiped myself with a pair of muckboots, an oilskin hat and a cheap but extremely effective waterproof coat.

when adorned in these treasures i resemble Worzel Gummidge

i may well reprise the outfit tomorrow evening after the opening
- should be perfect for trick-or-treating

but i'll spare you the full catastrophe. i have, after all, many others to share.

back to the gallery, where the previous exhibition was still in place
somewhat unexpectedly
[perhaps the pre-Halloween parties are really good around here]

luckily however i had nothing else to do on my rainy sunday afternoon in Halifax, as the Port Campus [where my studio is located] is only accessible with a swipe card and i didn't fancy hanging around in the rain trying to convince a passing student of my bona fides.

in any case, the Anna Leonowens Gallery is nice and warm
and looks out onto the street
where the occasional dripping wretch can be seen tottering past
[better than television]

i apply myself to drybrushing marks on the wall and offer thanks to Silver Harris [set designer and founding Director of the Adelaide Festival Centre Gallery] for teaching me this useful skill some several lifetimes ago. Ben Webster kindly plays [on the batfone] while i reminisce.



we discover the letter 'r' is missing from the signage
good thing it wasn't the "o"

they find a spare and the exhibition title makes a little more sense. if only other gaps in my life could be filled so easily

i get on with hanging the show

at left 'windfall map' at right 'anywhere is walking distance if you have the time'

'cloudland' [I,II,III]

a reference to Aotearoa that some might recognise

'worn'

a piece of two parts

and a couple of details

[the gold is from onionskin, for those who are wondering]

a draught from a gap in the door proves perfect - gently rotating one of the garments as though mechanically created for the purpose





and there are nice marks on the ceiling



i manage to hang the show quite quickly, then spend two hours staring at it
some of you will recognise the work
it was after all shown at the Katherine Nash Gallery in Minneapolis earlier this year
since then it has been sleeping in a box
in San Francisco
and one or two of the pieces have found homes in various places
if Qantas doesn't get its act together, i might be sleeping in a box in San Francisco myself shortly
but
i'll cross that bridge when i come to it

meanwhile
it's 5.24 pm local time and i haven't yet had breakfast
attempts to coax cash from an ATM have failed
so
i'm off to thrash the credit card and take supper at the Five Fishermen

hits and misses and a very fine exhibition

"where are you headed, miss?"
asks the kindly conductor in an avuncular fashion
he looks at the ecoprint felt landskin arrayed across my person and adds
"San Francisco?"

"only in my dreams" i say

"well, in that case, i'll wake you at Albany"

it is 3.40am and i have just spent 6 hours camping in the Amtrak
rail station at Niagara Falls

i am on my way to Vermont, having taken a train from Hastings,
another from Toronto
and then a taxi across the US/Canada border

i am probably the only visitor to this area who has not bothered to go and gawk at North America's oldest tourist attraction

in my defence, it is raining cats, dogs and iguanas and i am schlepping a sodden bag full of exhibition along with my changes of undies, laptop, new cookpot [thanks Monika] and toothbrush

after winding up at Joshua Creek [a delightful venue created by the visionary Sybil Rampen]
i had three days of r+r [ie doing my own work] boiling up pots in the woods of Ontario



incidentally, i would have posted more images of that last workshop, but for the wifi only being available at about midday [otherwise turned off]. given midday is working hours when teaching, it made things tricky.
no wifi, no posts, less publicity for the Joshua Creek Arts Centre. too bad.

oh, and whilst briefly in Toronto i also had the great joy of viewing Dorothy Caldwell's latest exhibition.
exquisite. [after clicking on the link, find Dorothy's name in the right hand column and click to view images of the work]

bReath

some words scribbled on the morning after a dark wet drive from Philadelphia to goodness knows where

trying to get somewheres
in the soup thick dark
through endless fallingwater
i feel my breath begin to catch
in the moment it becomes apparent
that those filaments on the map
blur into obscurity
even with the help of spectacles
or perhaps
because the glass was slightly misted
it seems there are two choices
blind panic
or sweet surrender
i opt for the river
sailing a random course
in my hired vessel
forging through shining sheets of water
adrift yet enlivened
around my neck hangs a bell
gifted to me by a shepherd
who no longer needs it to be heard
a dog above hears it tinkling
sends a breath that lifts the leaves
reveals the sign that points the road
guides this lost lamb safely in
to the waiting warm welcome

sewing and mumbling

sailing on a silken sea
as forms begin to take shape
one huge dress, with space for two bodies

cut from an entire roll of silk

combines subtraction cutting

with 'zero waste' principles

stitching with a thread made of 35%cotton 65%silk

loaded into the overlocker

although it could be argued that using 48 metres
of cloth
to make one dress for two performers
is hardly frugal
but then, tis theatre
and the garment will have [i hope]
a long and useful life.
it's one thing practicing frugality at home
there are other parameters at play here
so i use materials that will wear well
be comfortable for the dancers

and are from natural sources
the audience doesn't usually expect
to see people dancing in old newspapers
or random retrievals from the ragbag
[ok. some people do. fine.]

[visit  helen lyôn  to see what she has been doing with a smaller version of such a dress]

the bits above are all that i cut away

two circles and a couple of leaf-shaped morsels

[stamps are there to give an idea of scale]

the only other discards were the shreds from overlocking -

they'll be used for making string

above, the beginnings of an other dress
with coral-like pockets
[for ochre, of course]


while sewing there is of course much thinking time
have been musing over the article written by Germaine Greer 
and sent me by Sophie Munns
i don't always agree with Ms Greer's pronouncements
but this time there's something that resonates

the flooding and the aftermath are awful , there's no arguing with that
but
while we continue to clear trees and build houses and roads
we can expect more
if the earth is covered with a hard crust there's simply nowhere for the water to go

consider the township of Mount Barker in South Australia
where the population has been expanding by the thousands each year
this year another development of 6000 houses has been allowed
little dogbox houses without rainwater tanks or verandahs
the mean annual rainfall there is 764.3mm [that's about 2 and a half feet]
most of it falls in winter
and swills about the roads already

now, if there were sensible development
communities built around shared gardens
a catchment for run-off
ponds to water the gardens
provision for filtering surplus water
and pumping it into the ground for storage
corridors of forest maintained for wildlife
and for life in the wild

instead we have lots of little dead-end roads
colourbond fences to keep out the neighbours
and lots more lovely run-off into the reservoirs
that supply the good folk of Adelaide
who for some reason don't realise that they're drinking
doggydoos, tyre scrapings, septic overflows and squashed possums
along with the Murray River cocktail that's pumped into those big holding dams each year

good gracious, i've been ranting again.
must be something in the water.

there and back again

Sophie Munns has kindly [again] filled in a few gaps
you can read her version of events here ...

and there are a few more details over the rainbow