Hidden

Out at Rookwood Cemetery last night for the opening of Hidden, artworks installed in the grounds. It was an excellent evening, fabulous work and great music. I so loved being out of a gallery situation, and in a setting which is usually associated with memorials of the dead. I spoke with MB earlier and we decided to do a day trip there where we could celebrate life with wine and cheese, followed by a watercolour draw off. I can't wait.
Jamie North's piece was really perfect for the setting, and gave me a lot of love. There were many good pieces, but this was the only one I took a photograph of. I love you JN, very special.

Another day at the beach

Bondi this afternoon,and snorkeling what is more. I tell you, there were many fish there, big garfish and hundreds of others, around the rocks. It was an awesome day, and had gotten quite warm, but the water was delicious and sparkling. What I love about snorkeling is it drowns out the sounds of the above-world and I can luxuriate in that white noise forever. I hate getting out of the water, back to sound, weight and civilisation of our own making.
The schools of fish moving in tandem with their kin, sometimes flitting along the bottom, fighting the currents or just trying to stay on the same area. I am fascinated with watching them construct their behaviour. So different, so many variations.
Lying on the sand with JP, soft brilliant heated granules all around, my fingers so tantalised by the texture and wonder of it's pulverisation, the millions of creatures that live in that medium, silently and dutifully carrying out their business...I could stay there forever, carrying out my business. The sun heating and drying my skin, the sleepy feeling after too much swimming, heaven.

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Three exhibition openings this week, all good. Three nights of boozing and socialising, not bad. But it does make the week seem much shorter, and as the days are getting shorter, I am worrying about time. I also worry about all the promises I make to people; 'we must have dinner soon', 'I must have you over...'. The sentiment is there, but it is the follow through that I need to do. This is my year of trying to keep to my word, and actually do what I say I am going to do. I don't want to use words to just fill spaces, and time. If I waste my breath saying bullshit, then I have wasted it. I really desire being answerable to myself, and being as true to my word as I admire in others.
Read my first Banana Yoshimoto book this week, Hardboiled and Hard Luck, I really liked her writing, so thanks Eve. Will delve further.

Out West

Drove to Penrith today, on the freeway, with AL. I haven't been out West in many months, especially speeding along a freeway, with all that space around, and gum trees galore. Couldn't believe the vast open land, and flocks of cockatoos. Went to Penrith Regional Gallery and saw a great show, but kept coming back to the gardens which Margot Lewers herself had initiated. Cucumbers proliferating! I was given one and can't wait to stick it in a salad. I have been loving cucumbers lately, I eat them every day, and consider them an evolved and refined vegetable.
When I got back to town, I noticed how narrow the streets felt and how little pavement there is. Lately as a pedestrian I have felt at such a disadvantage, the cars have all the roads and we have these meagre sidewalks littered with bins and poles and other crap that serves as a disincentive for strollers. Aussies just put up with it, or move away if it irks them too much. A shame.
Should I devote my life to fighting Council, and lobbying for better public transport? Or should I just ignore it and make the most of this city and just get away often enough for it not to bother me so much? Moan!
Saw

Cycling in Sydney

I take my life in my own hands, no doubt, each time I make it home, I am shaking, having survived the obstacle course that risks life and limb. I think Tokyo would have been just as bad, but was too frightened to mount a bike there. Phew, I'm alive!
This weekend was a blast, Tiny Stadiums, a festival in Erskineville, was proffered on Saturday. I was given a player, which was co-ordinated with other audience members, and we danced the Dance of Death, which should really have been the Dance of Life, but why quibble? It was super fun maneuvering around the main street in tandem, doing particular moves and then resting with our faces in the cool green hedge. There was free tea, and cupcakes in the Town Hall where the best project on earth was on display. It was a cardboard rendition of the village with customised changes cleverly crafted, based on community feedback of what their dream village would entail. I hope the Town planners take note and do everything, because there were some really really good ideas. What a gas! There was a group of women singing their hearts out in a booth, and a judge in another booth, so strange and funny, as they blew air freshener and sandwiches down a tube for the judge's pleasure.
Later on that night we went to The Performance Space Clubhouse and listened to some very loud bands in a programme co-ordinated by the famous Lucas Abela...Auraltered 2. Naked on the Vague played last and it was well worth waiting for their terrific show, matched by the most horrific footage of Iraq's war torn land: like hell. So disturbing and moving, I was lost for words, just fuck fuck fuck fuck fucking hell. War is hell. All that effort put into building structures, all that effort in bombing them, and then all the mess that needs to be put back together or cleaned up...the futility...
Sunday we got up early and went to Addison Road markets, where we met with some good old friends to eat dumplings and roti and bacon and eggs (at least that's what I had!). Then I went to the Art Gallery for their season of free Japanese films to accompany the show Hymn to Beauty. I watched Shinoda's Sharaku, set in 18th Century Edo. It was really great to watch on a big screen, and I loved the kabuki scenes, and the sad story. It made me hungry for sushi, so when I got home I made some rice, cut up some tuna and made some nori rolls, with sashimi on the side. Miso with long mushrooms and tofu, and a cucumber salad. Fantastic. But I was depressed to see I have no appropriate dishes, and have to wait till December when I am back on Nippon soil to shop for what I want.

Smoking is addictive

On Thursday I participated in Brian Fuata's "Wrong solo", a fortnight of performances based on one day workshops with invited artists. We spent the day talking and smoking, and devised a smoking performance where we literally sat and smoked. We'd discussed Andy Warhol's Screen Tests, and both loved the minimal content, so we lit the space and sat in front of an audience and did what we did. I had forgotten all about the nerves that relate to performance anxiety, and was rattled by the shakes, and the spotlights. I would have much preferred to perform to an empty room. Picture by John Douglas
I love the way light catches the smoke curls, and recall smoking in a dark room where the only light came through slats on the windows, and how that striated light would catch the whorls of my exhalations. A french film about smoking I'd seen many years ago spoke of the fact that many artists smoke because what we do is express our internal thoughts and feelings, and smoking gives a visual representation of the interior, temporarily exhaled and visible.
I thought maybe this will cure me of my addiction, as afterwards, the last thing I wanted was a cigarette...only time healed that thought, and I was back on the fags with a drink soon afterwards.
A sad week as I said goodbye to parents who returned to London. We had such a great visit, just wish they lived here full-time.