getting ready to be (t)here

'being (t)here' is a class i love to teach. each time is an adventure in itself

it's a class which is suited as much to a forest as to a riverside

or even an industrial wasteland

magic is everywhere, the delight is in the detail

and everything has a fascination if you look at it with your heart

this week i will be in Tasmania

(i love islands)

installing back country for Ten Days on the Island  (recently renamed the Tasmanian International Arts Festival) before class begins - it will have a new piece in it to replace the one acquired by the Tamworth Regional Gallery last month -

the only really tricky bit is editing which resources to take,

choosing a teacup for the ride

and trying to reorganise the sewing box/tool kit

which seems to have a mind of its own.

happily i can make do most of the time

so long as i have my trusty collection of readings with me

and a piece of string to hang them on.

the last piece of string stayed in Aotearoa

it was as long as the flight from New Orleans to Vancouver.

tomorrow i will make a string that will measure the distance from Adelaide to Hobart

while gazing out the window of the plane

i will confess i do love flying, though it's admittedly not the kindest mode of transport in terms of the environment

but

it would take a long time to get to Tasmania on my windsurfer

and my books would get wet. 

someone else has a mind of her own, too.
it seems Martha has taken Kubbi aside and given her The Word on suitcases
(in a few months time she won't fit in)



PS i'm not entirely sure, but i think some places remain open in being (t)here classes in Scotland and France later this year

puddleducking

a watercolour day with storms and puddles and muddy rivers

flowing across the road

just perfect for a walk in the park

and the best weather for looking at plants

in the Mount Lofty Botanic Garden

no fairweather tourists filming the lilies

just happy Kurrawongs

and cheerful ducks

pootling about in the raindrops

on the way thither

dodging giant splashes from urban SUVs storming through the water

like Stormtroopers on their way to some

imaginary Front

[they'll have to get another can of spray on dust, he he]

i heard another sample of idiocy on the wireless

that Australian farmers [about to be penalised for the emissions from their ruminant stock]

can't claim credit for any trees planted prior to 1990

apparently the Government has already included those in their

'stocktake' submitted for Kyoto

so if your farm is full [of trees] and you want to claim carbon credits against potential ovine or bovine flatulence

then as the policy stands at present it is apparently legal to chop them down

and replant with seedlings

who cares that standing trees [and coal, for that matter]

are the best means of storing carbon

nonetheless, despite muttering about carbon credits from one side of their mouths,

those in power are still subsidising the woodchipping of old growth forests in Tasmania

click here to visit the Wilderness Society's page and view their video...

oh, and the icing on the cake is the suggestion [also picked up from the wireless] that in the event your farm in burned in a fire you may well find yourself paying an emissions tax!

exhibition opening

raku work by Lyn Reeves

the reason i was invited to Tasmania was to open an exhibition

those who know me well will be aware that i have a speech impediment

meaning

i'm not keen on making speeches

however i decided to be brave

and read a prepared text

which some people seemed to think was ok

under the circumstances

so

i thought perhaps i'd reprint it here...

Words spoken at the opening of ‘wabi-sabi – from rags to rust, the art of imperfection’ July 26, 2009

 

the older I become and the less time it seems likely I shall have on this beautiful earth the more I realise the importance of taking more time to be slow about the things I do

and to engage with the whirled

to take time to appreciate that string of pearls that is “the moments of now” that scatter like raindrops on a river as we wander our life journey

collections of  “moments of now” make up the works we see here today. We call them artworks but they are only the tips of the metaphorical iceberg that is the

Art   -   Work

the thought, hand, making and shaping that was involved in the realisation of the pieces we see

those “moments of now” cannot be pinned down like beetles in a museum.they slip elusively away shimmering and dancing; swooping like dragonflies on the pond of memory

for me the concept of wabi-sabi is as undefinable.

my wise friend the potter Petrus Spronk says that the spirit of wabi comes about as a result of the work being made with great care and attention

and that the spirit of sabi comes about as a result of equally great care and attention from the user

and that in this way the work becomes complete.

Leonard Koren writes that wabi sabi is

…a beauty of things humble….

ask a Japanese person to define it and the response often implies that the need to ask belies the possibility of understanding.

for me it is the difference between a philosophy that strives to say something with a work

and

one in which materials from nature are worked with care and respect to find a voice that gives the object meaning

in a similar spirit, as a traveller I find the most satisfying journeys have been those in which I have taken the time to listen to land and place

taken time for life to find me rather than seeking out experience or nailing myself to a timetable

it is a frugal approach that finds joy in small detail.

a wabi-sabi of wanderings, taking gentle walks

stopping to listen and being open to the magic that is all around

the works that are being displayed in this place show that others too have found this magic

the makers have been attentive and have listened to the whirled

they have allowed their materials to find a voice through their hands and hearts.

i have pleasure in welcoming you to enjoy the work and invite you to give it the care and attention the makers have brought to it

thank you

 

more island life

at dawn on Steele's Island the ground is covered with a thin fur of ice

essentially the island is a midden composed of enormous shells

moss grows almost to the waters' edge

a stitched and felted landskin soaking in the briny rivermouth before baptism in the dyebath

island life

despite being somewhat steam rollered by a Big Year a little voice told me to say 'yes, please' when an invitation came from the South Island [Tasmania]

to visit there and say a few words at the opening of an exhibition

and also

to hold a workshop

i left it all entirely in the hands of Desiree Fitzgibbon,

thinker, poet, painter

and now also friend and skinsister

on arrival she took me to Rosny Farm

where my work was showing as

Nine Patch

in the Schoolhouse Gallery

from there we wandered on to Steele's Island

a truly magical spot

by some miracle the owners were away and so i played Robinson Crusoe for a night 

marooned [very happily] on the island

taking a lovely walk in the last light

and greeting the day, all by myself on a frost encrusted beach on the morning of the workshop

and yes, i'm aware i live a fortunate life....and i am grateful.