wandering + wondering

last Tuesday i packed 'back country' into the back of the ute [that's a pick-up if you're American] and headed out via the World's End Highway, the Goyder Highway and then the Barrier Highway up to Broken Hill and across New South Wales to deliver and install the work at the Tamworth Regional Gallery. [that's a little over 3000km there and back again]

and then yesterday i got up before sunrise, climbed into the [now much emptier] ute and pointed it in a westerly direction. Augustus [that's the ute's name] could smell his home paddock and was eager to go. 

me too.

i was also eager to see the Geminid meteor shower that's lighting up the night skies at present, so as the sun got lower i began to look for a suitable campsite. it's been years since i last slept under the sky in the outback. when the children were small we simply camped in a paddock at home and in recent years much of my travel has been to destinations overseas where camping isn't a practical response to the challenge of finding a bed [and where there are ticks, which give me the heebie jeebies]

about 120km east of Broken Hill i found a small red dirt road labelled Wirreanda. it looked suitably infrequently used so i turned up it and drove until i could see just the lights of the trucks on the highway but not hear them [thinking that i wanted to be within walking distance in case Augustus didn't want to start in the morning]. i also took a screen shot of the compass on my iPhone and messaged it to the folks back home so that they would have the coordinates in case that was the last time they heard from me and had to search for a body. 

then i unrolled my swag in the tray of the ute [there's just enough room for me to sleep diagonally] and hung a mosquito net over the top. perfect.

 

in the past i have always had a dog along when sleeping out but the pawprints left by Kip when she passed on July 19th, 2010 still haven't been filled so the precaution above [given the lack of canine company] was a simply sensible thing to do. you never know.

it turned out to be a splendid night, initially enlivened by lightning displays around the horizon and then beautifully clear with a myriad shooting stars, including one that seemed almost a Min Min light, bright green and travelling horizontally about 10 degrees above the northern horizon.

and then a couple of hours before dawn the moon rose in the east, cunningly disguised as a big slice of candied orange. at one point a tiny passing bat grazed my cheek with its wing as it flipped by, casually disposing of a mosquito

i had brought a book to read and also a set of solar powered twinkle lights [they'd been charging up on the dash all day] to read by but i never so much as turned a page and after testing the lights, turned them off as well. 

 

it was such a luxury to have the time to watch the sun go down, see the stars appear and truly appreciate the slow transition from day into night, listening to the birds organising themselves for sleep, the brief concerto of singing insects and then the rich velvety silence of a desert night, so quiet that it seemed i could hear the passing stars

and

i'm pretty sure the shades of the seven lovely Dogs who have blessed my life were there as well 

in the morning, after a bit of yoga [that 33 year old swag doubles nicely as a yoga mat] i packed up and discovered i had not been alone after all

there were also "tail-drag" marks from a kangaroo who had visited in the night, maybe to ask me to stop snoring. i hadn't heard it at all.

 i headed off again, stopping for a musical interlude under a bridge just outside Broken Hill while it was still cool and before the flies got busy. i like the acoustics that big bridges offer.

i found that others had been there before me

oh yeah? well i had sax under the bridge. 

far less messy and i'm guessing it probably sounded better too.

 

giving thanks

giving thanks for things

thank you for all the friendly emails from folks who assure me that they do like to swing by this sometimes vacant lot in the hope of a story and for the kind words they leave in return

giving thanks for kind friends who have loaned me a baritone saxophone for the rest of my stay here in Portland

though the squirrels in the ceiling are not impressed.

giving thanks that i had done my yoga on Sunday morning
so that when i was affected by gravity on these stairs

and landed suddenly at the bottom
bent the wrong way and with my head making contact with the door jamb
i was properly flexible and nothing broke. not even the spectacles that fell out of my pocket

also thankful that i had a bag of frozen leaves in the ice-box
[frozen leaves make a much better ice-pack than frozen peas]

i think it was the Dogs Above telling me
slow down
look before you leap in
a timely reminder that we are really about as durable as a splash in the river

giving thanks, too, that i will be going home at the end of next week
home where my folks are
home to a long-overdue reality check
where my chillun will poke me if i get too full of myself
where my cat will [i hope] leap on to my suitcase
and glare at me, defying me to touch it [the suitcase, not the cat. she will require pats]
and where i can go and sit down in a paddock at sunset
knowing that sooner or later
a certain chocolate coloured someone with big feet will wander up behind me
blow warm grassy breath down my neck
and then rest her big velvet muzzle on my head

it will be summer
and warm
and i am going to spend most of it in this dress
that i have worn so much, the cloth along the seams was disintegrating

it is cotton, the kind that is fuzzy inside
bought for a song from a purveyor of remnants
because it was stained. [chuckles]
so after mending
and before dyeing

i drew on it with remnants from the kitchen

a turkey baster is useful for writing
[and for transferring indigo if you are attempting to emulate Hiroyuki Shindo's pool-dyeing methods]
and you can make moonstones
i love moonstones

even the ones that don't last


anyways
the dress turned out rather nicely
with a pleasant contrast between the SilkyMerino repairs, the silk stitching
and the worn cotton background

even the interior is nice [above and below], so it is now reversible as well

i dyed some cloth for labels in the same pot
ready to stitch with my name and a numerical code
that identifies the garment. something to do on the long plane ride.

the traditional Japanese saying "never throw away a piece of cloth big enough to wrap three beans" translated here to "use the little leftover bits for labels"

 

and before you ask
i have no idea what made that mauve


lastly
words of wisdom
found at Imogene and Willie

i'm taking that one to heart.

Happy Thanksgiving.

preview

 

 

 

see that dark lump on the bench?

that's my sax case.

i blew some notes in the space

for my friends in New Orleans

wishing they were a bit closer.

 

my residency in Louisiana was initiated by

the New Orleans Center for Creative Arts

and supported by the Joan Mitchell Center

again i'd like to thank 

Nikki Jackson [for having the idea in the first place] [and for just being]

 and her colleagues at NOCCA for welcoming me

also

Carolyn Somers, Director of the Joan Mitchell Foundation 

for letting me live there

and particularly 

Shelley Boles

Teddy Martin

Frank Gleber

and

Gia and Kenese

and all the others who made my stay so very wonderful.

[dang, i should have been wearing a fabulous frock to say all that]

stardust and stabbings

stardust has been replaying on constant loop
in my head all day
after hearing a wonderful version
played by Paul Williamson [and the rest of the Gianni Marinucci Swing Train]
at the Paris Cat last night

 

thanks gentlemen, it was a splendid night.

and for those of you who expect dye stories here

i do have one.

a vicious needle bit my finger 

and drew rather a lot of blood

so

in the spirit of waste-not-want-not

i bundled a leaf into the cloth i used to mop the blot

blood proved its worth not only as mordant

but also as adhesive

the leaf [bougainvillea] stuck firmly top the bloodstain

but not to the rest of the cloth

just for the record

each week i get at least 2 emails from people who want to come and stay with me and "help in the studio"

i'm sure they mean well, but my studio is quite messy and a little erratic and the rare occasions i'm home all i want to do is be alone and think and play and sew and brew cauldrons and draw
and make noises on the saxophone
and stand quite still
practicing my tarasana pose

so
i'm afraid i've been writing these sorts of letters....[warning to the kind-hearted, i do sound a bit mean]

..."touched as I am by your youthful enthusiasm, the sad reality of the matter is this. I am rarely, if ever, home for more than three weeks at any time and when I am at home...it is my sanctuary where I work ridiculous and slightly erratic hours, very much as a lone wolf. 

Also I live in a most impractical location; the nearest village is an hour away on foot [ie you would need a car or bicycle] and is not on public transport routes [well, there is a bus but it's once a day in the afternoon and only goes to a shopping mall in the north of the Adelaide metropolitan area] nor is there any short-term rental accommodation other than a rather unpleasant hotel. my house is lived in by more than just me and we do not offer  homestays other than to really close friends 

So while I thank you for your interesting proposal, my answer is no, I do not [ever] take apprentices or interns or workers-for-free. I do however teach workshops at many locations around the world where you would be most welcome to sign up if you were interested in learning sustainable dye techniques"... 

taking a walk on the wild side

i have to admit it...despite being a country gal i absolutely love this city. it plays misty for me and then some.

this morning after a couple of hours hard graft - writing, not swinging a pick - i did myself a favour, went out on Geary Street and hopped on a bus fully intending to head for Golden Gate Park and some research in the Botanic Garden there.

but [yet again quoting John Lennon] "life is what happens while you're making other plans". it did that today and for this i am grateful.

instead of turning south a few blocks at the end of my bus ride i followed a windfall path down the street heading west and finished up at Point Lobos [with a pocket full of leaves]. 

i found a ruin that rivals Delphi... the remains of the Sutro Baths. i lingered a while

found floating feathers

and then instead of turning south i went purposefully north

trees making drawings against the sky

underfoot a stone, polished by many passers

looked very much like Pounamu

greener than the picture shows

onward along the clifftops through fields of flowers where it's warm and sheltered

then suddenly exposed again and slapped by a cold damp wind

i find a lost heart

and a Latvian wild strawberry [Fragaria vesca] 

growing by the sidewalk above China Beach

at Baker Beach [still further north] i find a perfect pocketstone. dark greenblack and smoothly polished. the sort of stone that likes to roll in your hand as you think about other things

such as imagining i see the footprints of a special dog i used to know

Baker was one of his favourite beaches

 wandering on up the hill...following the wind to the Golden Gate bridge

i begin to hear a familiar sound

haven't even had a gin and i'm hearing a tenor saxophone

sure enough, as i walk around the corner of a ruined building up on the battery

there they are

using the perfect acoustics provided by that concrete shell

two musicians jamming

west coast impro and it's good, very good

[thinks, my friend John Kelley would love this] 

it's another icing on the cupcake moment. i seem to be having a lot of those lately. 

after a while they break for a breather. we talk and swap names and sax stories

they are Colin Gleason [tenor saxman] and his friend Dave [i hope i got the guitar player's name right, forgive me if i mucked up...it's easier if it's written on a piece of paper when age hath wearied and the years condemned]

 

Colin and i also compare tattoos

and i take a few photos

would have been better if the tree hadn't been growing out of Colin...but it's not a good place to step backward while framing a shot...bit of a drop on most sides

and the longest one would leave one very wet indeed

and then a few more photos including several at arms length of the three of us [except i later do some cutting and pasting cos all except one of me has a moonface with a double chin. ew. ]

thank goodness for Raybans - much cooler than coverstick for hiding wrinklies

then they played some more

and i sat and listened

and drew in my notebook with notes on colours to slosh on later from the small paintbox

[guess who forgot to pack a water bottle]

there's THAT bridge again

nine hours and nineteen one-foot-at-a-time kilometres after i stepped out of the Kabuki this morning i toddle back into my room

ready for a serious soaking bath

and a quiet tea ceremony

with a small treasure found here in San Francisco

one that will live in the travel bag and remind me 

every time i have tea on the track

of a place that still makes me feel seventeen years old