I’m Baaaaaack! cue maniacal laughter

Gratuitous shot of bushwalking. Note the lovely grass trees.

One of the benefits of being genetically predisposed to bipolar disorder (Hi dad!) is the ability to snap out of bad moods, and regain my usual jolly demeanour at the drop of a hat. So if I’d waited a couple of days you wouldn’t have even known about Marvin the PA, the black dog and my other assorted woes. That’s the joy of blogging.

TIF May

I said I had a ‘meh ….who cares?’ attitude to the months TIF challenge ‘what do you call yourself, and why?’ Some of the questions Sharon posed are:

How do you describe yourself as an artist?

Have you noticed that the term maker is being used to describe the activity of various people who may in the past be referred to as crafts person, or applied artist?

The way I see it is if you can’t talk about what you do, or haven’t taken care in how you think about what you do, how do you expect others to respect the way you spend your time? Or how do expect people to respect what you make?

what do you call yourself and why?

I have an attitude

Well, I only had that attitude, because well… I had an attitude. Of course I have something to say about the issue. I have gone on and on and on about the art vs craft question because I find it interesting – in a general sense. I feel the term ‘craft’ is much maligned, and should be embraced as a quality concept (craftsmen ship showing real skill); rather than the crappy junk that the term craft tends to convey these days. Blah blah blah.

Shock Horror

However, I don’t describe what I do in these terms at all. I would never call myself an artist, because I think the term embraces a lot of skills and ideas that I could not, and would not, not apply to me. I think to call oneself an artist leaves the way open for you to be critiqued as an artist. I am not willing to do that, nor is it my focus. Nor do I call myself a craftsperson. I think the level of skill required to be a skilled craftsperson has eluded me (thus far). I am too much a jack of all trades to say that I am skilled enough in anyone area to have honed my skills to a craftsperson’s level. And……Don’t tell anyone- but…..I wondering why …shock horror…we need to label what we do at all……….

Maker, schmaker

I have noticed the term ‘maker’ being used, but I think this is a case of you say potatoes…… A craftsperson/artist/maker all essentially do the same thing as far as I am concerned.

R.E.S.P.E.C.T

Sharon’s third question was interesting. I rarely talk about what I do, especially in ‘real life’. Most of my real life friends aren’t that interested in what I do, and I’m not interested in trying to enlighten them. Frankly I don’t care if people don’t take what I do seriously, or whether other people respect what I do or how I spend my time. I don’t feel I have to articulate what I do, in order to gain others respect. If they want to think that I’m ‘cutting perfectly good bits of fabric into small pieces to sew them together again’ or ’spending hours stitching something that you can buy ready-made for less money’…..well that’s ok. Most people don’t respect the way I spend my time in the ‘non-fibre’ related areas of my life, why should this be different? Also if people don’t respect what I make, I’m not going to lose sleep over it. I make what I make because I want to, not to gain the respect, or approval, of others.

And the final question: what do you call yourself, and why?

I call myself Mama, ‘lovely wife’ (but that doesn’t fool Matt for a second), ‘devoted daughter’ (doesn’t fool mum either), but usually I just call myself Paula, because that’s who I am…….

Blogging ennui and a visit from Winston’s black dog

I thought a break from blogging while at Yamba would be difficult. It wasn’t. What was difficult was motivating myself to actually start blogging again. I have seen a button on other blogs ‘blogging without obligation’. I never feel obliged to blog, and although I know that there are some people who enjoy reading my blog, I don’t feel that they are going to be pacing the floor wondering what’s happened if I don’t happen to blog. However….I thought after a week of nothing I should write something, try and get back into the groove so to speak.

So what’s been happening…….

(try reading this in a Marvin the Paranoid Android voice…Tom takes after me more than I care for sometimes….)

Spending money

I went to the Stitches and Craft show in Brisbane a week or so ago. I was disappointed. Perhaps I would have been less disappointed if I was a scrap booker or beader. It was very busy, expensive to get in, and distinctly uninspiring. Having said that I did manage to spend some money…..

I bought a skein of sari silk, some Oliver Twists, some hand - dyed embroidery silks, wool rovings, silk rods and cocoons, and a few beads. No plans for any of it, of course.

Stitching

I have done nothing of note. I have stitched bullion roses on a facecloth and singlet for a baby gift. I also made a gift tag from some fabric scraps and some flower beads I bought at the show. This is winging its way to Wales as we speak.

The garden

We have been harvesting lettuce, radish, limes and some tiny zucchinis. We have heaps of Asian veggies – bok choy, pak choi etc all ready to eat NOW! Guess what we are having for dinner (the kids will be thrilled).

Blogging

I think I will probably start blogging only twice a week. I am not going to confine myself to particular days, but I think twice a week will be enough…..at least for a while.

The black dog

I’m not clinically depressed (well I bloody hope not anyway) - just sick and tired of being sick and tired. Everyone has been sick, including me, and I can’t get out of my own way. I have a hard time being upbeat if I’m not. If you are depressed check out: http://www.blackdoginstitute.org.au. Read about their very clever logo here.

Cyber Fyber and TIF

Susan Lenz is doing another round of swaps for Cyber Fyber. Do check out the blog, and if you haven’t already swapped, have a go. I did. And I enjoyed it (back in the days when I enjoyed stuff). And TIF for May…well in my current state of mind…. I just shrug and say ‘meeeehh….. who cares?’ I’m sure I’ll have something to say about it eventually.

The last word…

….goes to Marvin the Paranoid Android who said: ‘My capacity for happiness you could fit into a matchbox without taking out the matches first’. Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams.

A knit wit does Yamba

Kneecapped by an 8 year old

Our little holiday to Yamba was a success. That is: it didn’t involve camping so I enjoyed it; Matt got to hire a boat so he enjoyed it; the boys got to swim at the beach every day, so they enjoyed it; we seemed to eat hot chips at every meal, so Moo enjoyed it. Luckily for you I forgot to take the camera out with me almost every time we left the cabin, so you are spared endless holiday snaps. I did manage to take a morning, noon and evening shot from the veranda of our cabin. The cabin was one of those prefab jobs with two bedrooms that fit nothing but beds, a sofa that seats 2 in a cabin meant for 6, a bathroom so small that one steps into the shower to close the bathroom door (the toilet was behind the door and Jimmy nearly broke both my kneecaps when he threw open the toilet door while I was ‘indisposed’ in there – imagine trying to explain that at the hospital), but as I said, it wasn’t camping, and it had a great view of the river.

Not fish again… Oh No, no, no…….

We spent a fair bit of time exploring rock pools and platforms (I’ll spare you the extremely interesting discussions on geology and geography to which I subjected the family…yawn), wandering up and down the beaches collecting pebbles, and paddling in the surf. We hired a boat one morning and went fishing. I had suggested that we could have a bbq chicken for dinner that night and was told in no uncertain terms by the boys that we would be having fish, caught by them. The only thing they caught was Moos hat which blew into the water. We did eventually have fish…bought at the fish co-op.

Marvin the Paranoid Android

This is us on the boat. Note the BBQ for cooking your catch on board. We had ‘eels of the paddock’ (sausages). Everyone was secretly relieved that I had decided to buy them (because I had no faith in their fishing abilities), but no one was willing to admit it. Moo was very proud to be driving the boat. Jimmy had first turn at driving, which was when Tom decided he needed a life jacket. Once Moo started driving Jimmy decided he needed a life jacket too. Tom spent the whole time the others were driving with his head on the table saying things like: ‘Jimmy is going to get us all killed’ and ‘oh no……. Moo is worse’. He sounded remarkably like Marvin the Paranoid Android from Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. The fact the boat could only go about 4 knots and Jimmy and Moo weren’t actually driving the boat did not reassure Marvin….. I mean Tom. Of course he wouldn’t have a go - he wasn’t going to be responsible for killing us all.

Knit wit

And what did I do? I knitted. Now I have said before I don’t like knitting, but I find it is about the only thing I can do in the car. So I took the scarf I started last winter and kept knitting. I also knitted on the boat, (much more productive than fishing). I think my main problem with knitting is how slow I am. I can knit for hours and it looks like I have hardly achieved a thing. And I can’t do anything but garter stitch - I keep forgetting how to purl. However I did finish Matts scarf on the trip, I just had to wait until I got home so my friend J could tell me how to cast off again.

Matt’s scarf and mine. Two down - three to go…it will only take me another 6 years at this rate. The wool is Patons Jet. Mine (the orangey one) is particularly nice I think (the wool not the knitting).

And finally…..

Another holiday snap overlooking Bungalung National Park.

Take it Further – April: the Peak Oil Planter

Peak Oil Planter

Description: what will we use our cars for when the oil runs out?

Materials: embroidery floss on white cotton

Dimensions: 6.5 by 6.5 inches

 

Thinking not doing

I have spent ages wondering what to do for this challenge and only about 3 days actually doing it. I wanted to do something related the environmental change, I was thinking along much the same lines as embellisher, but I also wanted to do something about dealing with change – adapting to the change.

No oil, no food, no hope?

This idea was a bolt out of the blue: I was thinking - what would happen to all the cars when Peak Oil hits? Essentially this is the point at which the cost of extracting the remaining oil becomes too costly to justify. The cost of oil has skyrocketed and the cost of petrol (gas) has started to hurt a lot of people’s wallets. As the costs continue to rise, and shortages of fuel occur, will cars sit abandoned? The flip side of this issue is the increasing cost of food (due to large quantities of oil used in food production), and the food shortages which now are not just affecting the ‘traditionally’ poverty stricken countries, but relatively rich countries too, even in the west people are moaning about the rising costs of food and groceries. For a really good, but frightening, analysis check out Casaubon’s Book.

Put two and two together and you get the Peak Oil Planter. Reminiscent of the old washtub my mum repurposed for flowers back in the 1970’s. I can see the rusting hulks of cars lining the city streets, with people’s vegetable allotments growing in them.

EDIT: Having just Read No Impact Mans latest post, perhaps I should have embroidered a rainwater tank on the bonnet too!

Things I didn’t think of in advance, but would have made me sound clever……

I wish I could say I thought of the following when I designed the piece, but I’m not that clever…. as I was doing the embroidery it reminded me a lot of the embroidered floral/crinoline lady embroideries of the 1930’s, during the great depression - Simple outlines, bright cheerful colours, little regard for accuracy of details or colour…..and I realised that one of the dates being postulated for peak oil/environmental disaster is 2030. Wouldn’t it be ironic (in a terribly depressing way) if our next great depression happens on the centenary of the last one…….?

Cratistic Licence

The stitches used are all pretty basic – split back stitch, stem stitch, fly stitch, couching, detached chain, buttonhole, French knot, bullion, satin stitch, bullion/detached chain combination. The vegies featured are: corn, tomatoes, capsicum, spinach, cauliflower, carrots, cucumbers, pumpkin, sunflowers and some generic flowers! No correspondence will be entered into with those that wish to argue that corn is not visible in the cob when it is growing, carrots don’t stick out of the ground that far, none of these veggies fruit at the same time! I know that…..it’s called ‘crartistic licence’ – artistic licence for the craftsperson. J

Big Mouth strikes again

The last word goes to Tom (vomiter extraordinaire – thanks for all your kind support for me…oh and him. All is forgiven Tom!) who spent the day at home with me. Jimmy has suffered Toms scathing comments regarding his imagination . I showed him the completed embroidery and asked him if he knew the vegetables – he got all but one right. I told him that was good, because if he recognised them, others would. His response: ‘yeah well I
do have a very good imagination, you know.’ A little boy who really doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.

Beach holidaying in winter…bbbrrrrrr

PS: we are going on a little family holiday to Yamba ….back soon.

Deep Breaths

Nothing gladdens a mother’s heart more than being woken at 2 am to a child sitting in a pool of vomit on top of the first, hand stitched, quilt she ever made. This is the spot where I stop to take deep breaths to calm myself been every load of washing I am hanging on the clothesline …..one quilt, one doona (duvet), one doona cover, three pillows, one set of sheets, two large teddy bears, one pair pjs, assorted smaller stuffed toys…….

Deep breaths………

An award, a pond and some inspiration…finally

Award: Arte Y Pico

Wonderful and lovely (and I’m not just saying that because she gave me an award either) Judith from Thread spiders weblog nominated me for the Arte y Pico award.

The rules of this award are:

You have to pick 5 blogs that you consider deserve this award for their creativity, design, interesting material, and also contributes to the blogging community, no matter what language.
2. Each award has to have the name of the author and also a link to his/her blog to be visited by everyone.
3. Each award winner has to show the award and put the name and link to the blog that has given her/him the award itself.
4. The award winner and the one who has given the prize have to show the link of Arte y Pico
5. To show these rules in your blog, so everyone will know the origin of this award.

To be honest she gave me this award a couple of days ago, and I’ve been mulling over who to nominate. I was thrilled she nominated me, but I’m fairly easily thrilled, and I’m not really sure I qualify. Trouble is narrowing it down to 5. Everybody I read could be nominated for this - I’m just not sure who to nominate. I’ve seen the award doing the round on a number of blogs I read, but I’m not dedicated to go back and see who was and who wasn’t nominated. Do I nominate my blogging buddies: Jane, Marg, Elizabeth, Emily, Megan………? (I can hear them now…she thinks I’m her friend…. the lunatic!) Do I pull 5 names from Google reader out of a hat? I can cheat I guess and include threadspider as one, as her blog definitely meets the criteria…but does that mean she has to nominate again – we could start out our little chain letter loop that never ends! I can’t even say I nominate everyone on my blog roll, because I haven’t managed to keep that up to date. I don’t want to nominate someone who will eye roll and say ‘not again’, and feel nominating is a burden. Well I guess I have listed 6 blogs here, and I enjoy reading them very much. So consider yourself nominated. If you are rolling your eyes, don’t feel the burden of passing it on. And if you think I’m a lunatic because I think you’re my friend, please let me live with my misconception!

TIF Update:

FINALLY I’ve thought of something for the TIF challenge for April. I might even get it stitched before the end of the month. This month’s challenge was really hard, and I was never more glad I was doing the concept, rather than colour part of the challenge!

How to build a backyard pond in five easy steps:

I decided that we should have a pond in our backyard for the frogs, birds and lizards. We have been talking about it for years but never go around to starting it. Yesterday morning I announced that I was going to do it….today. Matt said he didn’t want to, and I told him not to worry, I was going to do it all by myself, he wouldn’t need to do a thing.

Step one: have coffee while perusing gardening books (i.e. wait until the day really heats up before starting to dig)

Step two: decide on location and clear plants. Have a little break and make morning tea, lunch and lentil soup in slow cooker for dinner

Step three: find shovel and start to dig hole, while fielding endless questions from children (Did daddy say you could borrow his shovel? Why aren’t we allowed to dig holes in the garden? Etc)

Step four: discover root systems and rocks under surface of soil and start looking pathetic.

Step five: make smirking eye rolling husband a cup of tea while he takes over the heavy work.

In my defense I did shovel out and dispose of every second wheelbarrow full of dirt, and I also spent valuable stitching time in the afternoon, shoveling and smoothing cement, while Matt did the mixing. But still it was another blow to my DIY credibility.

Brisbane: part two

A wedding anniversary trip continued.

Japanese Restaurant

We decided to go to a Japanese restaurant for dinner. This was the restaurant we went to for our first anniversary. Being heavily pregnant we (I) decided against the sitting on the floor, and had Teppanyaki instead.( About two days before I had Jimmy we went out to dinner at a restaurant with fixed bench seats. I couldn’t fit – and we had to move. Very embarrassing.) Anyway we thought it would be nice to recreate the first anniversary night, without the pregnancy. The food was nice, but not spectacular. The problem was ….. dinner for two – two courses plus two beers and one lemonade - cost us just over $120. This is approximately ¾ of our weekly grocery budget for five people. I couldn’t in all good conscience enjoy the food knowing how that money could be better spent. It was nice, but it just wasn’t special enough to justify spending that sort of money.

Talking about it on the walk back to our hotel we decided that no meal is really ‘worth’ that much. And it wasn’t just that restaurant. Most restaurants would cost that much - add a bottle of wine and dessert and it would break us! Another disappointing aspect for the meal was the fact the restaurant used paper napkins and disposable chopsticks. That disappointed me on two levels: environmental, and aesthetically. When I spend so much on a meal I expect a cloth napkin and proper cutlery. And by cutlery here I mean proper chopsticks, not disposable chopsticks in a paper bag. I think the disposable bits really drew attention to the fact we had spent a lot for not much. It was the coffee in a paper cup thing all over again, but on a hideously expensive scale. Oh well. You live and learn I guess. I had fun on the walk boring Matt with discussions on how stupid it is all the high-rise office buildings were lit up – some seemed to have every light in the place on. So we got back to the room……

(Use your imagination here)

My big sleep in and the most stupid invention ever

……I had planned to sleep in. I wake up with the sun. I.e. about 5 am, or earlier in summer. We don’t have daylight savings in Queensland; something about the extra hour of sunlight curdling the milk in the cow’s udders and fading the curtains. During the week Matt needs to get up at 5am to walk to the bus-stop, and Moo is always up with the sun. On the weekends Matt sleeps in, but Moo always manages to wake me up anyway, and if she forgets, Jack starts whining to be let in …or the kookaburras start up, or the chooks……for whatever reason I am always up at the crack of dawn. So I thought it would be nice to sleep in for a change. Wrong. Some fool had set the alarm clock (on loud) in the room for 5am. Not being particularly alarm clock savvy. I managed to hit the snooze button, and 5 – 10 minutes later it started again. The snooze button must be the most stupid invention ever. What is the point of setting an alarm for earlier than you need to get up…if you are just going to delay it anyway?

pig trough

So that was it. A ten minute sleep in. Nice. I can never get back to sleep in the morning. So I got up at 5.10 am and made a cup of coffee, and read our complimentary copy of The Australian. We could have got a copy of The Courier Mail, but it is written at a grade 8 level (so I believe) and has about 2 columns worth of information in what seems to be 1.5 kilos of newsprint. The Australian usually has something worth reading, and we don’t buy newspapers so it was quite novel. Matt eventually dragged himself out of bed, and we went down for the buffet breakfast. I am not a huge fan of buffets, or food courts in shopping malls, which we call Pig Troughs. If anything would be guaranteed to make me lose weight it is seeing people chowing down at an all you can eat joint. But this was actually quite nice. Cold, but nice. We realised after we had served ourselves some cold hot food that the reason it was cold, was that the foodily challenged customers were not closing the little doors on the steamer thingy the food was in. The staff were running around closing them after people, but obviously when we got there the lids had been open for a while. Anyway it was tasty cold bacon. The fruit and yoghurt section of the buffet was lovely and I had a delicious selection of fruit – stuff that I never have for breakfast at home, usually because I can’t be bothered to cut it up.

A drive

We had planned to go shopping in the morning, have yum cha for lunch in China town, and a movie in the afternoon, and an early dinner out again before picking up the kids from Mums that night. Trouble is neither of us like shopping. And there wasn’t a movie we wanted to see. And we were still reeling from the cost of dinner the night before. So what to do……we actually contemplated going home and hanging out without the kids, but decided that was just too lame for words. So we went for a drive across the border to a town called Urbenville, near Woodenbong and Kyogle. We had been there a few years ago and there was land for sale, so we thought we would check it out again. It is a 2 hour drive from Brisbane. Lunch was a couple of very tasty and properly made steak sandwiches ($10) from the Urbenville shop. Saw the land, liked it, want to buy it. Drove home. Had dinner at home, I cooked. Got the kids. Went to bed. Got up at 5am when Moo said – ‘the sun’s up in my room now’……..

ANZAC Day: a day at the beach like no other

25 April is ANZAC day in Australia. ANZAC is the acronym for Australian and New Zealand Army Corp. This is the day we remember those who have fought in wars. The campaign at Gallipoli, during WW1, while not the only battle/war remembered, is one of the defining moments of Australia’s history. Our identity and perception of ourselves as Australians– mateship, larrikinism etc- is tied up, at least in part, in the story of Gallipoli. We were, of course, soundly defeated by the Turks during this campaign, and yet we celebrate it as a defining and proud moment in our history. The soldiers appear to have held little animosity towards the Turkish soldiers, our bitterness over the defeat was firmly directed towards our allies, the British. (I think we are over it now J ). This is a photo I took of the beach at ANZAC cove when I visited Turkey in the early 1990’s.

‘I was terribly frightened’

A Fortunate Life by A B Facey is an Australian classic. This is the memoir of a man born in 1894, who served at Gallipoli, and had a hard life, by any standards, but also a fortunate life according to him. His father died when he was two, his mother abandoned him soon afterwards, had no formal education, taught himself to read and write, he started work at eight and he landed at Gallipoli when he was 21:

All went well until we were making the change into rowing boats. Suddenly all hell broke loose; heavy shelling and shrapnel fire commenced. The ships that were protecting our troops returned fire. Bullets were thumping into us in the rowing boat. Men were being hit and killed around me.

When we were cut loose to make our way to the shore was the worst period. I was terribly frightened. The boat touched bottom some thirty yards from shore so we had to jump out and wade into the beach. The water in some places was up to my shoulders. The Turks had machine guns sweeping the strip of beach where we landed – there were many dead already when we got there. Bodies of men who had reached the beach ahead of us were lying all along the beach and wounded men were screaming for help. We couldn’t stop for them - the Turkish fire was terrible and mowing into us. The order to line up on the beach was forgotten. We all ran for our lives over the strip of beach and got into the scrub and bush. Men were falling all around me. We were stumbling over bodies – running blind.

The sight of the bodies on the beach was shocking. It worried me for days that I couldn’t stop to help the men calling out. (This was one of the hardest things of the war for me and I’m sure for many of the others. There were to be other times under fire when we couldn’t help those that were hit. I would think for days, ‘I should have helped that poor beggar’.)

Obviously Bert survived the war, and went on to marry the girl who had sent him (as an unknown soldier) a care package. His two brothers were not so lucky – both died during this campaign. An interesting and relatively (nb: I struggle reading anything too long and educational) easy to read history of the Gallipoli campaign is called Gallipoli by Les Carlyon.

A recipe

Couldn’t write about ANZAC day without a recipe for ANZAC Biscuits, which may have been sent to the diggers at Gallipoli, or were made to sell to support the troops, depending on the story you choose to believe.

1 cup rolled oats

1 cup flour (I use wholemeal)

1 cup sugar (I cut it back to ¾)

¾ cup desiccated coconut

1 tablespoon Golden Syrup

125 grams butter (Don’t use anything that has the word ‘I can’t believe it’s not… on the label)

1 teaspoon bi-carb soda

2 tablespoons boiling water

Combine all dry ingredients. Melt together butter and syrup. Add bi-carb to boiling water and add to syrup/butter mixture. (Be careful it bubbles up). Add to dry ingredients and mix well. Roll into balls, place on greased tray, and flatten slightly. Bake 20 min at 170 degrees c.

This is the inscription on the memorial at Gallipoli:

Those heroes that shed their blood and lost their lives……

You are now lying in the soil of a friendly country.

Therefore rest in peace.

There is no difference between the Johnnies

and the Mehmets to us where they lay side by side

here in this country of ours…..

You, the mothers,

Who sent their sons from far away countries

Wipe away your tears;

Your sons are now lying in our bosom

and are at peace.

After having lost their lives on this land

They have become our sons as well

Ataturk 1934.

 

Coming soon:

Stay tuned for part two of Brisbane: The City That Tries Too Hard or even Brisbane: it’s not what you think. Thanks Kay – I love it!

 

 

 

 

Some embroidery tucked in around the rants and reminiscence.

The Mountmellick doily is finished. Sans the knitted fringe, mainly because I don’t actually want to make it into a doily….oh and I don’t like knitting, and when I did the workshop the people who could knit that thought it was hard do to with the small needles and cotton yarn. But I prefer my first reason.  EDIT: The stitches used on the leaves are palestrina, bullion, long arm cretan, cable chain, buttonhole, fly stitch.

The second is my stumpwork toadstool. This was made with embroidered slips for the cap and stalk. The cap has a very small amount of wadding stuffed under it. I wasn’t really happy with the gills – I think they work in theory, and the bullion knots work well, but they don’t look quite right. The little fairy on top is stitched with one and two strands of DMC, made without a pattern or plan. I photographed it with the cardboard window so you can get a sense of the size – the window is for an ATC (2.5 by 3.5 inches). She had sparkly wings made with oyster stitch, the dress is a Turkey stitch (or my variation of. I used a small amount of machine embroidery thread for her facial features, because I found one strand of DMC a bit too big, and fluffy. The machine thread worked well I thought.

I am completely incapable of taking a close up photo without it being blurry. I can take macro shots (the toadstool), distant shots (the doily) but nothing in between. Oh well. I hope the recipient will like this. Moo has requested the same, but with a pink dress. Demanding little madam she is.

And how my garden in growing (no cockleshells or silver bells though)….

 

Lettuce, tomatoes, capsicums, cucmber and potatoes in the tyres. Ate out first radish yesterday!

Brisbane: the city that tries too hard

I think this may be a suitable logo for Brisbane. (I still smile when I remember Glasgow’s catch phrase ‘ s’miles better’ from….the 1980’s I think…not sure if it was true, never been there). I think I’ll mention it to ‘Can Do’ Campbell, our Lord Mayor, next time he consults me for advice. Grin.

What we didn’t do

For our anniversary we were going to go to a lovely place called secerets at the lake in Montville, in the Sunshine Coast Hinterland. Romantic, luxurious cabins for two, giant spa baths in front of picture windows overlooking the lake, fancy breakfast baskets delivered to the door etc etc, and we thought three nights would be nice. Overnight hardly gives you a chance to calm down before you are packing up again (we have been there before for our ersatz honeymoon a few years ago, and it was lovely, even managed not to talk about the kids while relaxing in the spa). But we couldn’t really afford it, and Mum couldn’t really cope with the kids for three nights (and vice versa I suspect). Hell, we can hardly handle the kids three nights in a row, not without drinking lots of red wine anyway!

River from Botanical gardens.

Hoi polloi

So we canned that idea, and decided to go into the city for the night. We stayed in the ‘executive suite’ of a hotel overlooking the river and botanical gardens. It was quite a nice room, no gold swan taps and faux marble fittings ,or anything over the top – the furnishing were quite restrained, but the room was luxurious in the little ways that count – large towels (and more than we needed), large complimentary soaps (I hate those weeny little soaps- you feel like you are going to lose them somewhere on your person … only to discover them dropping from your armpit, or elsewhere, at some inopportune time), the obligatory water saving showerhead was one of the good sort, not the needles of water that rip your skin off, and yet don’t seem to leave you wet. A king sized bed. A well stocked mini-bar (which was actually a bit of a pain – took us ages to empty it out so we could keep the home brew cold), and two rooms – a sitting/dining room and bedroom, both with TV’s …we needn’t have even seen each other if we didn’t want to. The place even had valet parking and porters who brought our bags (and esky full of beer) up to our room. Of course we booked it through wot-if, one of those discount internet things. Trouble is with these cheap rates the posh hotels are now not very exclusive… the place was full of hoi polloi……with their St Vinnies suitcases, eskies of beer, daggy clothes, gardening magazines …did I mention the lifts had mirrors in them? Ok so we weren’t the most hill billy couple in the place, but it was a close call.

GoMA

Anyway we decided to spend the morning acquiring a bit of, sorely needed, culture. We went to the Gallery of Modern Art (or GoMA as the City That Tries Too Hard want us all to call it). Now I am not so crass that I walk around an art gallery saying things like ‘my kids could paint that’. I might think it sometimes, though, but I’d never admit it. I suspected that our visit might have been like that, but I was pleasantly surprised. I actually liked a lot of what I saw.

One thing I liked was this:

Anish Kapoor Untitled 2006–07

Gallery 3.2, GoMA

This magnificent work is a fine example of Anish Kapoor’s practice as one of the most significant sculptors of our time. Kapoor’s work draws on metaphysical theory and ideas of the sublime, while his use of colour emphasises the sensory in his sculpture. His spectacular and extraordinary works engage the viewer both physically and psychologically with their large scale and saturated colours. This commissioned sculpture is dedicated to former Queensland Art Gallery Director Doug Hall, AM, in recognition of his 20-year contribution to the Gallery and to Queensland.

 
 

It is huge and I know it looks a bit like a half sucked lifesaver here (a lolly with a hole in it, not someone who rescues people) but in reality it was really impressive- it was HUGE.*

Michel Tuffery
Povi tau vaga (The challenge) 1999

Michel Tuffery is one of the Pacific’s most established contemporary artists. He is celebrated for his witty and insightful comments on the cultural, environmental and political issues of the region.

Povi tau vaga (The challenge) 1999 consists of four bulls made from branded corned-beef tins. These bulls became part of a major collaborative project between artists Tuffery and Patrice Kaikilekofe (Futuna/New Caledonia) at the Gallery’s ‘Third Asia-Pacific Triennial of Contemporary Art’ in 1999.

The performance brought together dancers from the island of Futuna, as well as local performers from the Samoan community and Indigenous people from Brisbane.

With this work, Tuffery comments on some of Polynesia’s major ecological and dietary problems resulting from increased modernisation. Changing eating habits, for example, afforded corned-beef the status of food staple and ritual gift.

In the Povi tau vaga performance, the two larger bulls represented Polynesia and French Polynesia (Tuffery and Kaikilekofe’s respective regions), and were used as metaphors for social tensions within islander communities.

There were four bulls/calves made from corned beef tins, and I actually worked out some of what the artist was trying to express, without even needing the read the plaque on the wall. Whether this means he is a good artist, or just good at pitching art to people like me, I don’t know.

Ps: all this was shamefully ripped off from GoMA’s website, sorry guys.

Georgina McGlynn and other High School students

The other thing I really liked was a display of art from high school students. One of my favourites was by Georgina McGlynn, from Kings Christian College. She did a work titled ‘a significant past’. If she becomes world famous, you can all say your heard about her here! Do check out the link to the PDF – Georgina’s work is on page 30. Also check out Diane Pook on page 38.

What else…..oh a rant about coffee shops

We had coffee at the cafe near the cultural centre (ie state library, art galleries, performing arts centre etc), which was really nice. Top marks for providing coffee in real cups. I have been once to the Coffee Shop Which Shall Remain Nameless, and was extremely disappointed to be served a coffee in a paper cup. I pointed out that I wasn’t taking it away, and was informed that all coffee from the Coffee Shop Which Shall Remain Nameless was served in paper cups. I’ve never been back, but my mother bought some cakes from the Coffee Shop Which Shall Remain Nameless and they were stale. I am always horrified that the Coffee Shop Which Shall Remain Nameless - what the hell Gloria Jean’s – remains as popular as it does. I am surprised that people are willing to spend so much of their hard earned dollar on grande caramel swirl mocha-chino latte (bleeuurrk) in a paper cup and stale bought-in cakes….their loss I guess.

Books

We decided to treat ourselves and buy a book each. We should have done this at the quite fabulous bookshop at the State Library. (BTW: we poked our heads in the door of the State Library and there were lots of people plugged into machines and computers, but we couldn’t see any books…..odd)The bookshop was great though, I saw about 15 books for which I would happily plop $40 or so on the counter. But I don’t like to buy the first thing I see, so decided to keep looking. Seems to me if I want to spend money there is never anything I want to buy. Trawled around several independent bookshops I like, didn’t see anything I wanted to buy. Even went to the McBookshop, I mean Borders, three whole stories of books I didn’t want to buy. Every book in the craft section was a bit bleuggh (or I already had it, which might have been more the problem come to think of it). I ended up reading a Grass Roots magazine.

To be continued…….

I think I will save the story of dinner, the buffet breakfast (but luckily for you - not in between) and day two for another post………..

*this is one reason why I’ll never get a job at the art gallery.