Noel Ferry

Saturday 14th February. Almost ready for the pedagogical dance and that is actually quite good. I have had a great rest and am now ready for the fray. It is something that I really enjoy. The dance of working with brilliant curriculum and your own intuitive embrace. Bring it on! Thursday 12th Feb Nearly there with the school stuff and starting to fix into the school situation more and more now. I do not resent it, as I have had a good rest from it all. In fact, I see that coming back into the coalface will be excellent, as it has a shelf life. The show is on target and I am starting to gather the information that I need for all that. I am working on fewer images being better, and therefore have decided on 10 of them. Tomorrow I will go back through and decide what else needs reprinting, and that is actually okay. I have a few and that is all that counts Monday 9th Feb The year is sprinting away and I have my final week off before I am back into the fray again. I must say, getting used to holidays is special. Spent a lot of the day getting my phone account sorted out, and then getting more clarity re my show also helped. I need to get some clips sorted out to hang the work and I know that I now have 10 photos to put up, so that will be great to cull the work down to a few images. I have far too much, and it will be an excellent discipline to work it down to the minimum. The 5th February which is a Thursday… http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jCHfml95T_I This is my blackboard from a couple of years ago, where I transitioned from Winter into Spring. It is always interesting coming across oneself after all this time, and then gauging how that must feel now. Dave made a good job compiling all these thoughts into a coherent narrative, and I must say, it comes across reasonably clearly. But having had said that, I am also aware that I am also a little distant from this now, having moved on a little in interest and perhaps outlook too. I am working part time now and the interest and focus is no where as strong as it once was. But, having had said all this, I am also aware that when on, I will be totally on, and I still love the job and what it asks of you. But back to the journeymen, these two intrepid travellers. They travel together and in some ways are a partnership actually and metaphorically. They could just as easily double as two halves of the same coin or in Plato’s Symposium, be two halves of the same body that are separate and seeking each other. I am comfortable with all of these explanations. It would be an MX5 now that I travel in, as the roof would be open now for letting the light back in. It would be fun to redraw this drawing perhaps 9 years on and see where I stand with it all. I am sure that it would be drawn differently, as there are different articulations now and foci for me to pursue. But, at the end of the day, it is still the journey and still Ithaca that we are travelling towards and this is the journey in the mind. I have often sought for somewhere to live and finally put up my boots, but that will not end until I actually retire my boots, and that is a long way off and I would have come home at last by that stage. I had a thought that I could be in a Japanese rickshaw or an Indian three wheeler and what would I be doing then? The frog would be an interested traveller for sure. I was thinking about those friezes that the Indian Udapipurian clay master makes and thought that this would make a fascinating study with the frogs being on the outside of the vessel and the journeymen stamped onto the car or cart as accessories to the journey. I am enjoying the journey and look forward to where we go next. My journeyman series still attracts, as nominally, I want to be able to continue this narrative for as long as I can. Gone are the days when it was articulated, when we travelled to Wyndham and then some, 9 years ago, and now I reside in not only a completely different space but also a very different body. It sort of feels strange, and yet I still identify with the subject matter, as sure enough, the frog is still on the road. I often think of Ithaca here, as it is about the journey. There is no destination, as that is a transitioning point called death and rebirth, but nominally, what I am talking about is travelling with the frog, and travelling in a way that reflects where I actually am. I have started a new drawing referencing Hokusai in particular with the wave and the Mount Fuji in the background as I stroll through the Cherry blossoms in my swank new MX5. It might still have to be a dream I suppose, which is of course a piss, but what can you do? It all started off as a motorbike and then morphed into a sports car. The drawing series then will reflect where I am at. I will start perhaps with a blackboard poster and drawing a scene from that in the picture. This reflects where I am at and will have corkwoods in the picture reflecting this. I am excited to be back with my travelling companion, as this is a way that I can reflect on who and what I am, through a pictorial hook that holds resonance for me. It is also fun. My Ithacian traveller is looking forward to the journey. Blogs are a useful mechanism to communicate, and although I am not the world’s most regular correspondent, I trust that others will find interest in what I am placing herein. There are many different facets to this blog, and not just this diary of course. and the more that I put up to share, the more I realise I want to offer much much more. Like all of us, I have stories to tell. I am really enjoying this blog, and think that I shall just ramble along now, almost like a visual diary, as I add to the blog on a daily basis. I say that, as in many ways, this is a visual diary about the world that I live in and the people that I share that world with, and the sheer physicality of the place. We are afforded here an absolutely marvellous environment in which to live in, and are graced with some of the most natural and beautiful landscapes on earth. The light here is so magnificent, but then again; so is the shadow, which compliments the glare. And if you are anything like me, coming to terms with the shadow is not an easy thing, and one that I personally have ardently fought. But I also know that the dance that ensues is also well worth the engagement. I will keep on adding things as they go along, and again try and keep the words to a minimum and the visuals to the maximum, as that is how the light gets in. (2/10/2013) ———————————————————————– 2nd February and a Monday The wonder of having time to do things is exactly that. The wonder of it. It seems an age since I have had all this time to myself, and it also seems an age since I have been able to focus on things other than a classroom. Ironically, I am adjusting, but think that I could so easily get used to it. I have spent quite an amount of time looking at my potential material for an exhibition, and feel that this time has been most valuable. I even bought a digital frame that will allow me to go over the material that I have, over and again, as it all informs what iI am doing. I feel very excited for having a show after so many years and know that it is a turning point for me, as really, I have so much material and it never ever gets out. In this way, I am facilitating change. A lot of people are aware of my abilities, but very rarely see it. Part of this year is to address this lack, and get out and about a little more often. I have been quiet far too long. 28th January Wednesday. When I look at the image below, it really does speak so much to me about the Centre. A bloke and his dog, but also the relationship between form and space, and figure and ground. My mate dave and his beau Noodles going for yet another outing at our beloved Claypans just out of the CBD in the Alice. What an incredible space that this has been, a fecund space for both of us to explore, and no doubt also for Noodles, where there is a cornicopia of elements that entice and entreat any canine of average intelligence and Noodles has more than most. But here we are anyway, and it is my mate that I am celebrating, and when I come to the end of the year show that I am going to create, this image will be among the many that I shall be showing. It will perhaps have pride of place. Tuesday 27th January. It seems so strange to not be at work today. I will take a while to get used to being part time, but in the meantime, will enjoy it as well. Being able to go down town and get things done is such a new sensation, and it really is great to just have that slack in my life. I had my 60th last night with many friends coming round and enjoying that space with us both, and it felt good. It is always good celebrating friends, and the people who came were people who often come to our Xmas gatherings, but this year we did not have them as we were down South with Erinn in Melbourne. I cooked a couple of pork roasts and we also had a lamb crick pot. Pork on a weber is real nice. I have also started to look round for picture frames for my show at the end of the year, and this is something that I want to try and stitch up during this down time. The year will spin along extremely fast no doubt, and getting this together will be a major focus for me. I cannot see me doing the gates this year, as I feel that it will take up too much time and effort and in some ways, I am actually under the pump. Mind you, when we come back from Japan, I also have another couple of weeks up my sleeve if I needed more time. Sunday 25th January. My daughter Erinn is 22 today and at 2.50 she will have her birthday proper. 3.3 kilos was her weight.I still remember it like it was yesterday. What a gob smackingly gorgeous bunch of fun she was and still is of course, albiet a tad older now. Happy birthday darling. I am just beginning to get this blog going again as I finally have the time to spend on it. I do not teach for three weeks, so have the luxury of spending time on things that also matter to me; my art in other words. I will get some of my tantric material up and running this week, as this will be a major driver within the site as well as some drawings too. I have become interested yet again in Shunga art forms of the Japanese, and will have a separate page devoted to this material. I have gone back to the fimo especially, as this is something that I really enjoy, intuitively enjoy, it brings out the little boy in me, and that small world that is such fun to get into. It is part of my sacred space or zone, where it is just me. All of us need to touch base with this zone as often as possible, as I feel that the wellspring of creativity springs from that source.This is the food of the gods. And the drawing needs to get moving too, as a series and I will tap into this time in the next couple of weeks before I start to zone into planning for the school month. I have got hold of a medium sized BB and will use that to draw with. It helps as it is so easy to work on and work over with. And finally, this time will be spent researching what it is that I am going to show in my exhibition. I will frame up my Darwin series anyway, and even though I shall be in Darwin at Easter this year, and will try and get material that is similar perhaps, I am not banking on improving what I got as that light on that day was kind of special. I will though spend a night or so in Darwin town maybe with Peter so that I am close to the foreshore and spend a couple of days there gathering material. It would be good to catch up with Peter anyway. The big thing will be choosing frames. I want a couple of long frames, so that will be important. I might also look at the local framing place as this exhibition comes up faster than one would think. I am celebrating my 60th tomorrow and that feels kind of strange as neither Katie nor myself have ever really celebrated anything before. But we have quite a few friends coming round and I will cook some pork on the Weber which will be kinda fun. It is always good to celebrate something like a birthday, and it kinda acknowledges that you are connected with others too. They have a part in it as well. I remember last year when Dave asked me to talk at his 60th. I MC’d the party and it was a great way to celebrate a life. My one is more low key, and there will be no speeches of course, but at the same time, we are celebrating friendships and a connection and a life here. Should be fun and i will relate what happened later on. Saturday 22nd January. I am now on further break for three weeks which is really strange for me, as there is no stress at all, and I am actually having time to myself. First of all I will start to sort out my show which takes priority for October and then I have to go to IKEA to look at framing options. I also have to start the process of helping others plan their work, and am going to Darwin for this later on in the term working with teachers up there with their programming. Thursday 22nd January. And here we are, on the verge of something new. I am changing the way that I work now and the way that I relate to the whole work ethic this year. I will be working part time, and also will be setting myself up for other creative options. I turn 60 in a few days time (26th January), and that is also a watershed in my life, and tells one something about what I am cusping onto and into. It is very exciting and I am looking forward to the challenge very much. Wednesday 21st January. All I can say is that this place is mesmerising, and I can understand why people want to go there and also come back again and again. Shame in many ways it is surrounded by so much frantic activity and filth, and yet, in many ways, this also heightens the effect. There is no other place on the planet that comes anywhere near it. Thursday 15th January And this holiday actually just gets better and better. I can honestly say, that I have not had a holiday like this one, as I am not going back into full time work. I am actually going part time, and this makes all the difference as I have other options too to pursue. And then I look at the below image and swoon.It is not only an iconographic image, but one that holds such allure and promise. It also speaks pathos of course, and loss, but despite all that, is a testimony to love. I like that. Monday 12th January. We are back in the Alice again, and after a three week holiday, it is grand to be back. And not only that, it is fascinating to see the place again freshly after seeing so much else in the world. We have travelled for three weeks interstate to Melbourne and then via the Great ocean Road, through Adelaide and then to Laura and the Southern Flinders and then back to the Alice again. This has been a 6,000 kms journey and has been an absolute blast. The patterns of the sea when twined with the sky are amazing.  Wednesday 31st December. We are getting ready for the changeover to 2015, which happens very easily usually. You merely fall into it. Another year and the year of my 60th no less. The image above is precious though, as it highlights something that I love. The country and the light over there being so special and different to us here. It is absolutely special that light and one that I am so looking forward to reaching into. I go to Kyoto with my wife and daughter in July after my conference in Byron Bay in July, and then at the end of the year we shall make our trip to India, albeit a year late. It will have been 34 and a half years since I was last there, so that will be a milestone for sure. I am not sure that I will actually recognise the place as it will have moved on so easily to a new space in all those years. At some point we are thinking of maybe living over there for an extended time, and I could easily see how that would happen. If it was possible to work through VSA for example, that would be a good way to do it. But I suspect that the way we want to do it, you go without the encumbrance of working through someone else’s filter. On the way back from Kyoto, we will also stop off at Raffles in Singer’s and try out a gin sling or two. now that is something worth while thinking about. I have not been there either for three and a half decades and still can remember the taste of that drink. We are staying at my daughters in Melbourne which has been a huge change for us, as it is the first time that we have not had our Xmas party at home for the vagrants of the Springs since being residents there, and also, being with our children on their turf. It is a sign that things are changing that they do not come home. I would imagine it will be different again at the end of this year, as we will actually be in India this time next year and that will be different again. Sure, we can Skype, like we did with Joey this year, but it is different again. Thursday 18th December Just having the time to reflect is almost enough. We all need this. I have not read or composed much these past few months, having been buried in my work; which literally buries one. Now that this is over for at least 9 weeks, I have the time to get some material together. In fact, this is the longest stretch of time that I have ever had in my life not working, so here we go. I want to re explore my interest in narrative and lyric poetry in particular. This has always been passion of mine. Words are very important, and their dance with us is even more poignant. I love it. I have to clean the car today. New tyres on the car in lieu of our impending road trip. Am looking forward to it actually, as it is a break from here. We were expecting to be in India at the moment, and this has had to be postposed, but that is okay. Nothing you can do about it really. For me it is more about taking the flow as it comes at you, and we will enjoy the big some of Melbourne almost as much. We are on the road and we enjoy that. I love driving and looking at this great red land of ours. It is such a wonderful continent to explore and so varied. When I think of the impression this land has on me, and my response to that, it is no more marked than in the photo below of myself pushed against the spinifex and rocks combined. This is one of the forms of conversation that I have with the land here, and I am blessed to have been afforded this viewpoint for so long now. It is great to be able to write in this blog after a duration of 3 months.  Tuesday 16th December. Holidays again, and I am able to devote some time to the site. Been almost three months since I last was here. I am working part time next year so will have a more concerted time to work on this site and try and make it much more interactive. I am after a show later on next year too, and that will take some energy and sorting out. It will hopefully be around late September or else early October. The show will not be in a commercial gallery, as i am over these at my age. Never really like them either at any time, but this is not the venue that I want to have any stuff enrolled in. I also might place a photo in the Alice Prize this year. Might as well. It would have to be framed nicely though, and I could have a trip ditch perhaps of shots. Maybe my frog series from Nightcliff. I will also be looking at adding to this series when i am north next year. I love the way reflection and light dance I love this image and images like it. So evocative really. There is something beautiful about Indian light, even though you also have the breathe the toxicity that the air affords one. You can’t have everything now can you? But we do not get this light in Australasia, and that is a pity. Sure, our light is special too, but nothing near as evocative as this light is. Was supposed to be there by now, but it is not going away and will have to wait. I will get there soon enough. Tuesday 23rd September. You do not have to go too far to see the world, or to witness something spectacular. The image below is a mere 10ks from where my house is, yet is in another world.I love the Alice. Sunday 27th August Such an iconic image, and one that will always amaze. We are off to see the Taj in 5 months time, which is not that far away now. I am really looking forward to getting on the road again, and experiencing travel yet again. The changes, the frustrations, the delights and the epiphanies that come your way. They all come to you whether you want them to or not. Monday 23rd June And when I see the above image, emblazoned in yellow and gold,I realise what it means to have your pants on firkin fire. We are so fortunate to be part of this evolving sense of the world, as at the end of the day, it all changes and all morphs into something else, and yet it also part of the self same thing. We have just passed the solstice for another year and are entering the warmer part of the world, a sniff in fact, and yet, when all is said and done, we should be fortunate; as we are able to appreciate it. It is called gratitude. Saturday 19th April. Went out to my favourite spot with my mate Dave and his dog. What else can you say to this? Very special friendship that I treasure as does Noodles with her owner. I love the light in this place and really, it still blows me away that this is Alice Springs. Who ever would have thought that you could see this here? All one needs is water and the rest takes care of itself. Wednesday 9th April Slow Travel. Sand never stays still, and as with the analogy of the drifter, the eternal nomad, maybe it articulates both the original inhabitants as well as the newcomers just as succinctly; as at the end of the day, we all move and change. Nothing is ever stationary. I have included the image of Ahkenaten, as he tried to change the fixed entity that was Egypt, and although he ultimately failed, he pointed the way for that was inevitable to follow. He came from that most desert of Kingdoms, Egyptian Antiquity; and desert certainly was what he ruled over. It is my theory that sand is actually everything. Whether this be the inland desert or the edge of the continent. I should qualify this. Silica is what I am referring to; that most commonest of elements on the face of the earth. And to complicate the matter even more; silica is that which joins all our cells together, as it does microchips on a computer. It always has and continues to have, a vital role in the way that we communicate with ourselves and anything else for that matter. In relation to slow travel then, recognising the seminal link that sand has to mobility, it behoves us to slow down and digest the experiences that we are having. So here is to slow travel, and may it always be so. Sunday, 6th April. When we look at the material below, the Kolam or Rangoli that is being created, you are astounded at the creativity that is created, and the why. To me, this is a natural expression of the who and what you are. the Indian expression is amazing; truly amazing, and when you see what people actually do, you start to see just how amazing it actually is. This is done at the time of the Pushkar camel fair in Pushkar itself, but these visual expressions are seen all over India. It shows that Art making even for its own sake, is an expression of wonder and beauty and just is. https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.497829926918442.118059.198218790212892&type=3 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MvUscfsAoeg http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-4teYApuj04 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=id_n3G-b_bk http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z_oVQBhlJ3I http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LK0cTyeiisc http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=niwntKWUCgY http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5hMfpxj0RvA http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YJnflHgUyzE http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jZUOowqMwPY These images will be my own soon enough when I finally get there, but the Cape calls me very strongly, and getting there with Katie is something I am looking forward to. For starters; it will be our first holiday together in a very long time we have done together and not going somewhere else as the focus or to anyone else. It is a long slow road trip with one loose destination which is the Cape and the journey will take in quite a lot of options as we move along. we were last in Broome 19 years ago almost to the month, which is quite a long time to wait to return. Grace was only 8 months old at the time. The images below have a certain Indian flavour to them, which is not rocket science, as of course they are Indian. I am off there with my wuv at the end of the year for a trip that is over 33 years in the making, which is how long it has been since last there. The image below of Akenathen is something that has haunted me for as long as I can remember. I am aware of where it resides in the Museum in Cairo, and I also also aware of what he was and what he did and the context of his time with King Tut his son, then Rameses II after that. I am looking forward to the time when I sit in that space opposite this image and converse over the eons about a kindred spirit as that is what he is. We all I feel at times have feelings that we have strong identifications with ether a personage or a time, and I for one have always felt that I know this figure and certainly this court as a scribe. and in having said that, somehow there is Karma to deal with over having contact with him. I am looking forward to the encounter, and am not sure what it is that he has to say to me, but there is a conversation waiting to happen. And it shall. And whenever I look at Lower Egypt in particular, I am intrigued as to the metaphor of light, but also time, and the passage of time with the Pons Seclorum.   “Jakob Boehme, a simple shoemaker born in the 15th century, suddenly realized one day that God, was a binary, fractal, self-replicating algorithm and that the universe was a genetic matrix resulting from the existential tension created by His desire for self-knowledge. This is a peculiar, mathematical way of describing the idea of God. Although Boehme did not specifically use those words, the concepts and ideas he used to express his theory equate to the same meaning. Let’s take it piece by piece. Binary means composed of two parts. So, God is split into two parts that make up a whole. This is the same principle behind the Taoist idea of duality, or ying and yang. A fractal is something that exhibits self-similarity no matter what scale it is viewed at. Each scale of a fractal does not have to be identical, but they will always be extremely similar. Picture a tree, with branches, which branch off into smaller twigs, which branch off into smaller shoots, which branch off into the main veins of a leaf, which branch off into smaller capillaries. No matter where you view the tree you see a very similar branching structure. Fractals in math, such as the Mandelbrot set, exhibit self-similarity on all scales ad infinitum. You never reach an ending or beginning point, no matter the scale. In this same way Bohme’s conception of God can be seen as a fractal. No matter the scale of the universe that you view, whether it be the galaxies, or blood cells, you see self-similarity. A self-replicating algorithm is any type of procedural code that has the ability to make more of itself automatically. Boehme is proposing that the principle laws that govern how God functions involves the ability to self- replicate, or increase in quantity without any outside influence. In this way, God can be thought of as fully self-sufficient. It does not need additional material to create more of itself. So, we have an infinitely complex and continuous, self-sufficient thing that can be perceived as being composed of opposites. So far, that sounds like an accurate description of the Universe that we are in and of… God if you will. But how did God, or the Universe according to Boehme’s description, come to be? According to Boehme, the Universe was created so that God could know itself. And as long as we are equating the Universe with God, let’s take it a step further. The Universe came to be because the Universe wanted to know itself.   (God is its own maker. thebulanadiblog2013.wordpress.com) So, what is the meaning of existence? Why are we here? According to Boehme, so that God (the Universe) can take a nice big look in the mirror. Except the Universe (God) is self-sufficient, there is only God, endless fractals of God, there is no mirror outside of God (the Universe) that it can look into. So the Universe came up with a way to look at itself. That’s us. We are the Universe (God) looking at itself. According to Boehme, we are God. This theory is so incredible because it unifies religion and contemporary quantum theories of the universe with a single stroke of intuition. A man whose education consisted of the Bible and the proper curvature of the sole of a shoe postulated a unifying theory that would influence the future for many great thinkers. Boehme went on to inspire such minds as Friedrich Nietzsche, Georg Willhelm, Philip K. Dick, and Adam Weishaupt. His idea that God could be a binary, fractal, self-replicating algorithm is both highly technical and impressive in the art world. Binary fractal trees are known in the math community to be things of great pattern and beauty. An algorithm that self-replicates is a graceful way of uniting nature and religion. His work integrates, involves, and unifies kabbalah, alchemy, theosophy, sacred geometry, yin and yang, cosmology, and the theory of enlightenment. To delve further into it check out the sources and resources below! “ – by Eric Feinberg in Philosophy –   (Jacob Boehme’s ‘ Mysterium Magnum’ Chapter 11 – Of the Mystery of the Creation)   April… already…I came across this image again taken at the clay pan about 6 years ago, and it in some ways tends to sum up the impression given and taken here where I reside. The impression given or the impression taken,; it matters not really; as at the end of the day, it is about relationships. Always would be in fact.    Late Jan… 2014. Glen Helen Gorge no less. Katie and I  went out for the day and night and stayed at  Glen Helen after drawing and photographing at Ormiston Gorge, and the  next morning walked to the gorge and I saw thees puddles captured amongst the rocks. The sky like Nightcliff Jetty 4 years ago was overcast and the same magic happened. 12th Jan Off to Trephina with my mate later on today chasing and zccepti 11th January 2014 I have started looking again at the shadow through the agency of light, and this is one of the pages from my current dialogue looking at the whole nature of light itself.                                                                                       Blinded by the LightIn many ways, one cannot see if the light is too intense, and it is on the shadow that Epiphany can present. Akin to this thought and parallel is the philosophers Stone being sought inn the dungheap. One would never naturally seek it here. The Centre of Australia is a dry hardened place, immeasurably old and weathered, which has seen more than most in this planet’s history, of the eternal ebb and flow of light, and its handmaiden shade. And in an environment thats light is so hard, so intense and so all pervading; it is here that the shadow comes into its own. The harder the light, the more intense the shadow, as both mirror each other. You cannot have one without the other, and like the Roman god of old, Janus, it a matter of one side merely reflecting the other, to present holistically the whole. I love the fact that in the cold heart of day, images seem blurred, and yet in the murk of the water, something seems incredibly clear.  Water it seems has a habit of doing this.  This picture always conjures up for me something from the depths, a votive offering, Freudian actually, a free gift from the Unconscious, hoping to help solve the riddle of that which is blinded by the light. Here both live side by side, both dark and light, and the polarities offer a more complete gestalt than ether could do by themselves. It is my understanding the light seeks objects, to articulate subjects, and without them, nothing resides. The whole nature and notion of light is an incredible story, and one that continually amazes me. One could literally say that without light, there would be nothing. After all, look into the dark world of space. I happened to be visiting my favourite tree, just out of the Alice, and was shooting the watery grave that seemed to be sucking up the vitals of the tree roots. We rarely see water here, and the whole creek bed was redrawn as silicon boundary, due to the flooded waters gushing past and through the riverbed, changing the path of sand that cruised through, around and on, this tree that socially met all of this. When one considers that I coming along witnessing this, am a mere upstart in trees timeline. But back to the shadows, as this is what attracts me the most with the image. Nothing seems distinct, almost, and herein lies the power of the image as it I familiar. yet suggestive of other possibilities too. What is that which wriggles in its acquean nursery? I sense the tree reflected, yet the bough or branch, when wedded to land, as if life raft outstretched, threatens to morph into some typhonic being, to which I or perhaps you, are twined. And the light, the light that surrounds the head of the figure; does not illumine at all, but merely colludes the image, further questioning the surreal juxtaposition of exposure and concealment. To me, this image is a very powerful metaphor for the Centre, as the light being too intense, means Epiphany is sought elsewhere. How else can one reconcile a land that is so polarised, so extreme, yet subtlety rules, when one zones in. On another level, most dynamics deal with the Aboriginal question here in the Centre. In other words, the white man’s shadow or mirror. Our continuing affluence highlights the poverty we all see, as must they. This is one of our our contemporary shadows. 30th December First Yoyo Ma http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KHzfD6XLK7Q and Glen Gould http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ikbQ4lThJGo&list=RDVPQ2BhJZgWE and Casals http://www.youtube.com/embed/KX1YtvFZOj0 I love music, especially the Cello. 27th December Katie and I just had an excellent small lunch with cheese, artichokes and ham lashed with mustard, and I am not sure whether it gets better than that. I love simple food like this, as it also served better with a glass of wine of course. But I am off to the gym soon and a glass of wine and exercise do not usually go that well together. I am also thinking about the ‘Art of Slow Travel’ a lot more, and feel that invariably we are exhorted to respond to our environment. I am a visual poet, and the visual metaphoric space is what I enjoy the most. You do not need to go far to travel, and there are spaces where I have not even moved, that have afforded the most epic depths of field and experience. I also know that there is no way that I can tell what the hook will be, as it constantly changes for me. Sometimes, it is merely being in the right place with the portal open wide, that affords the metaphoric space or epiphany to come through. I am talking as a conductor here by the way and not the creator, as in many ways, I am merely facilitating this depth. Boxing Day, …and we had an excellent Xmas Day with family and friends. It is always great having people around, and this year was no different. The people who came round are actually our family anyway, and that always feels good, as they are there because they want to be there, as opposed to being there because they have to or are obliged. It is a huge difference. 17th December 2013. I love the small world and the play of light that these plants trap and garnish themselves with. Such a simple repetitive form, yet the play on light afford so many options of colour, shape and nuance. I was in the garden the other day with the kids and we were looking at Wish, Wonder and Surprise, and I relayed to them parts of my world with the camera, and the seeing through that particular lens. When you look at such a simple form with artistic delight, it affords something very special indeed. All of a sudden, the world becomes an inhabited garden. It also brings home the old adage that you do not need to go too far at all to discover the beauty of the world. We are literally surrounded by it all the time, and only have to look. It is as simple as that. And what better place to bring that message home to you, is in your own garden of earthly delights. It is pretty hard to not like this landscape, and even though it is cold and coolish and wet and all that sort of thing, windswept and forlorn and isolated… it carries such memory, and such resonance, and is so French. I have this idea of going or weaving my way as a pilgrimage from Mont St. Michel to Chartres, via Rouen in a wee car. Puss and I will do this after we have been to Fez. I would love to see Gaudi’s Cathedral too, but maybe that is just a lillte too much. I just love those doors, and Chechouen is a place of much magic. I’m going back with the beloved to witness some of these beautiful beings, and many other delights as well. That will be June 2015. And every time that I come across either doors or windows, I am always pulled into or thorough these magic portals, as they are passageways to other places and are standard invitations to the other. I would love to do this to our front porch at some point in time and who knows? Maybe we will. We have already decided to go to Fez, Morocco, in June 2015, so this will be a great opportunity to see some of this stuff. It would be great to stay with a local, or with a couch surfing type of arrangement. I love this landscape, in the Centre, as it affords such an expansive palette to paint projected thoughts and ideas. The light plays tricks, and affords such a wonderful embrace of the ground. I also remember when I took this shot and I showed people I was with what I was doing, and they are quite amazed. I take it for granted that people see these sorts of things, but god knows why I do. I say this, as people invariably do not see what I see, and by now I should not be surprised at this. November 9th We have no reason to harbor any mistrust against our world, for it is not against us. If it has terrors, they are our terrors; if it has abysses, these abysses belong to us; if there are dangers, we must try to love them. And if only we arrange our life in accordance with the principle which tells us that we must always trust in the difficult,… Rilke Just a couple of shots that I have come across lately. The tree one with the step ladder i felt was an interesting idea, especially about connections and links, but the one with the footsteps in the water with the shadows is an amazing shot.Everything is about the after effect, even with the shadow doing the same gesture. It is also about having a light imprint on the world and leaving a very small trace. Just great really. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ry4BzonlVlw For those who love the Cello, this is really exciting to see. And yes, I know that YoyoMa is so much more experienced and expressive, but this is not bad. I have come across this image so many times and would love to go to Poland just to see it. For me, trees are always such anthropomorphic creatures, and in this case, it certainly illustrates that fact. I must say that even though I have not been here for a week, so much has happened. In fact, it is always instructive to me as to what can happen in any given week, or even in a day. Nothing like a little bit of humour to get things going. AS at the end of the day sometimes. that is what gets you through the night. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=14LcvpXmb74 If you ever want to hear something so beautiful, so incredibly beautiful, just tune into this. Bobby McFerren has a voice from God. And the power of music to take someone into another sphere is so under rated. I feel that I have been blessed to know someone like this, as have the rest of us. Singing this particular tune, which is played well by many, to me is the benchmark. The shadow splays itself over and again, onto its immediate environment, and what I find really interesting is how it appropriates what it comes across and makes it part of itself. It sort of colonises anything in its path.  It is almost impossible to stress the importance of Rilke upon my thinking and feeling, about the numinous and the way that this plays out on the stage of the world at large. And even though the material and the metaphors seem outdated in this faded and jaded world of ours; ostensibly they are still the same elements and archetypes, as they never go away, but merely change their face. And even though I have looked at considerable length at the historical references to this man’s poetry and the times within that it was written, and the place too of course, I still come to that place where we have an orphic muse at work, and an utterance that opened a portal to the divine and spoke through the vision of the current age. The below versions are taken from my pocket selected poems ‘Rilke’ translated by J.B. Lieshman. Penguin 1964. 1st Elegy “Who if I cried, would hear me among the angelic orders? And even if one of them suddenly pressed me against his heart, I should fade in the strength of his stronger existence. For beauty’s nothing but beginning of terror we’re still just able to bear, and why we adore it so is because it serenely distains to destroy us. Every angel is terrible. And so I repress myself, and swallow the call note of depth dark sobbing. Alas, who is there we can make use of? Not angels, not men; and even the noticing beasts are aware that we don’t feel very securely in this interpreted world. There remains, perhaps, some tree on a slope,yesterday’s walk and the long drawn loyalty of a habit that liked us and stayed and never gave notice. Oh, and there’s the night, when wind full of cosmic space feeds on our faces: for whom she would not remain, longed for, mild disenchantress, painfully there for the lonely heart to acheive? Is she lighter for lovers? Alas, with each other they only conceal their lot! Don’t you know yet? – Fling the emptiness out of your arms to broaden the spaces we breate – maybe that the birds will feel the extended air in more fervent flight. Yes, the springs had need of you. Many a star was waiting for you to perceive it. Many a wave would rise in the past towards you; or else, perhaps, as you went by an open window, a violin would be utterly giving itself. All this was commission. But were you equal to it? Were you not still distraught by expectancy, as though all were announcing some beloved’s approach? (As if you could hope to house her, with all those grreat strange thoughts going in and out and often staying overnight!). Should you be longing, though, sing the great lovers: the fame of all they can feel if far from immortal enough. Those – you envied them almost, those foresaken, you found so far beyond the requited in loving. Begin ever anew their never- attainable praise. Consider: the hero continues, even his setting was a pretext for further existence, an ultinate birth. But lovers are taken back by exhausted nature into herself, as though such creative force could not be exerted twice. Does Gaspara Stampa mean enough to you yet, and that any girl, whose beloved has slipped away, might feel, from that far intenser example of loving:’ Could I but become like her!’? Should not these oldest sufferings be finbally growing fruitfuller for us? Is it not time that, in loving, we freed ourselves from the loved one, and quivering, endured: as the arrow endures the string, to become, in the gathering out-leap, something more than itself? For staying is nowhere. Voices, voices. Hearken, my heart. as only saints once hearkened: so, that the giant call lifted them off the ground; they, though, impossibles, went on kneeling and paid no heed: such was their hearkening. Not that you could bear God’s voice, by a long way. But hark to the suspiration, the uninterrupted news that grows out of silence. Rustling towards you now from those youthfully- dead. Whenever you entered a church in Rome or in Naples were you not always being quietly addressed by their fate? Or else an inscription sublimely imposed itself on you. as, lately, the tablet in Santa Maria Formosa. What they require of me? that I should gently remove the appearance of suffered injustice, that hinders a little, at times, their purely-proceeding spirits. True, it is strange to inhabit the earth no longer. to use no longer customs scarcely acquired, not to interpret roses, and other things that promise so much, in terms of a human future: to be no longer all that one used to be in endlessly anxious hands, and to lay aside even one’s proper name like a broken toy. Strange, not to go on wishing one’s wishes. Strange, to see all that was once relation so loosly fluttering hither and thither in space. And its hard, being dead, and full of retreiving before one begins to perceive a little eternity. – All of the living, though, make the mistake of drawing too sharp distinctions. Angels (it’s said) would be often unable to tell whether they moved among living or dead. The eternal torrent whirls all the ages through either realm for ever, and sounds above their voices in both. They’ve finally no more need of us, the early – departed, one’s gently waened from terrestial things as one mildly outgrows the breasts of a mother. But we, have that need of such mighty secrets, we, for whom sorrow’s so often source of blessed progress, could we exist without them? Is the story in vain, how once, in the mourning for linos, venturing earliest music pierced barren numbness, and how, in the startled space an almost deified youth suddenly quitted for ever, emptiness first felt the vibration that now lifs us and comforts and helps? And this brilliant series of poems, which summed up a life, started above with the first elegy was actually answered in the 9th… 9th Elegy. Why, when this span of life might be fleeted away as laurel, a little darker than all the surrounding green, with tiny waves on the border of every leaf (like the smile of a wind): – oh, why have to be human, and shunning destiny, long for destiny?… Not because happiness really exists, that precipitate profit of imminent loss. Not out of curiosity not just to practice the heart, that couldstill be there in the laurel…. But because being here is much, and because all this that’s here, so fleeting, seems to require us and strangely concerns us. Us the most fleeting of all. Just once, everything, only for once. Once and no more. And we, too, once. And never again. But this having been once, though only once, having been once on earth – can it ever be cancelled? And so we keep pressing on and trying to perform it, trying to contain it within our simple hands, in the more and more crowded gaze, in the speechless heart. Trying to become it. To give it to whom? We’d rather hold on to it all for ever…But into the other relation, what, alas! do we carry across? Not the beholding we’ve here slowly aquired, and no here occurrence. Not one. Sufferings, then. Above all, the hardness of life, the long experience of love; in fact, purely untellable things. But later, under the stars, what use? the more deeply untellable stars? Yet the wanderer too doesn’t bring from mountain to valleya handful of earth; of for all untellable earth, but only a word he has won, pure, ther yellow and blue genitan. Are we, perhaps, here just for saying: House, Bridge, Fountain, Gate, Jug, Fruit tree, Window, -possibly: Pillar, Tower?…but for saying, remember, oh, for such saying as never the things themselves hoped so intensely to be. Is not the secret purpose of this sly Earth, in urging a pair of lovers, just to make everything leap with ecstasy in them? Threshold: what does it mean to a pair of lovers, that they should be wearing their own worn threshold a little, they too, after many before, before the many to come,…as a matter of course! Here is the time for the Tellable, here is its home. Speak and proclaim. More than ever things we can live with are falling away, for that which is oustingly taking their place is an imageless act. Act under crusts, that will readily split as soon as the doing within outgrows them and takes a new outline. Between the hammers lives on our heart, as between the teeth the tongue, which, in spite of all, still continues to praise. Praise this world to the Angel, not the untellable: you can’t impress him wiuth the splendour you’ve felt; in the cosmos where he more feelingly feels you’re only a novice. So show him some simple thing, refashioned by age after age, till it lives in our hands and eyes as a part of ourselves. Tell him things. He’ll stand more astonished: as you did beside the roper in Rome or the potter in Egypt. Show him how happy a thing can be, how guiless and ours; how even the moaning of grief purely determines on form, serves as a thing, or dies into a thing, – to escape to a bliss beyond the fiddle. These things that live on departure understand when you praise them: fleeting, they look for rescue through something in us, the most fleeting of all.Want us to change them entirely, withion our invisible hearts, into- oh, endlessly- into ourselves! Whosoever we are. Earth, is it not just this that you want: to arise invisibly in us? Is not your dream to be one day invisible? Earth1 invisible! What is your urgent command, if not transformation? Earth, you darling, I will! Oh, believe me, you need no more of your spring- times to win me over: a single one, ah, one, is already more than my blood can endure. Beyond all names I am yours, and have been for ages. You were always right, and your holiest inspiration is death, that friendly Death. Look, I am living. On what? Neither childhood nor future are growing less….Supernumerous existence wells up in my heart. This really had an impact on me when I first came across it. The Temple (1633), by George Herbert: The Pulley. VVHen God at first made man, Having a glasse of blessings standing by; Let us (said he) poure on him all we can: Let the worlds riches, which dispersed lie, Contract into a span. So strength first made a way; Then beautie flow’d, then wisdome, honour, pleasure: When almost all was out, God made a stay, Perceiving that alone of all his treasure Rest in the bottome lay. For if I should (said he) Bestow this jewell also on my creature, He would adore my gifts in stead of me, And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature: So both should losers be. Yet let him keep the rest, But keep them with repining restlesnesse: Let him be rich and wearie, that at least, If goodnesse leade him not, yet wearinesse May tosse him to my breast. What a beautiful poem this one is. Orpheus. Eurydice. Hermes That was the strange mine of souls. As secret ores of silver they passed like veins through its darkness. Between the rootsblood welled, flowing onwards to Mankind, and it looked as hard as Porphyry in the darkness. Otherwise nothing was red. There were cliffs and straggling woods. Bridges over voids, and that great grey blind lake, that hung above its distant floor like a rain-filled sky above a landscape. And between meadows, soft and full of patience, one path, a pale strip, appeared, passing by like a long bleached thing. And down this path they came. In front the slim man in the blue mantle, mute and impatient, gazing before him. His steps ate up the path in huge bites without chewing: his hands hung, clumsy and tight, from the falling folds, and no longer aware of the weightless lyre, grown into his left side, like a rose-graft on an olive branch. And his senses were as if divided: while his sight ran ahead like a dog, turned back, came and went again and again, and waited at the next turn, positioned there – his hearing was left behind like a scent.Sometimes it seemed to him as if it reached as far as the going of those other two, who ought to be following this complete ascent. Then once more it was only the repeated sound of his climb and the breeze in his mantle behind him. But he told himself that they were still coming: said it aloud and heard it die away. They were still coming, but they were two fearfully light in their passage. If only he might turn once more ( if looking back were not the ruin of all his work, that first had to be accomplished), then he must see them, the quiet pair, mutely following him: the god of errands and far messages, the travelling-hood above his shining eyes, the slender wand held out before his body,the beating wings at his ankle joints; and on his left hand, as entrusted: her. The so-beloved, that out of one lyre more grief came than from all grieving women: so that a world of grief arose, in which all things were there once more: forest and valley, and road and village, field and stream and creature: and that around this grief-world, just as around the other earth, a sun and a silent star-filled heaven turned, a grief-heaven with distorted stars – she was so-loved. But she went at that god’s left hand, her steps confined by the long grave-cloths, uncertain, gentle, and without impatience.She was in herself, like a woman near term, and did not think of the man, going on ahead, or the path, climbing upwards towards life. She was in herself. And her being-dead filled her with abundance. As a fruit with sweetness and darkness, so she was full with her vast death, that was so new, she comprehended nothing. She was in a new virginity and untouchable: her sex was closed like a young flower at twilight, and her hands had been weaned so far from marriage that even the slight god’s endlessly gentle touch, as he led, hurt her like too great an intimacy. She was no longer that blonde woman, sometimes touched on in the poet’s songs, no longer the wide bed’s scent and island,and that man’s possession no longer. She was already loosened like long hair, given out like fallen rain, shared out like a hundredfold supply. She was already root. And when suddenly the god stopped her and, with anguish in his cry, uttered the words: ‘He has turned round’ – she comprehended nothing and said softly: ‘Who?’ But far off, darkly before the bright exit, stood someone or other, whose features were unrecognisable. Who stood and sawhow on the strip of path between meadows, with mournful look, the god of messages turned, silently, to follow the figurealready walking back by that same path, her steps confined by the long grave-cloths, uncertain, gentle, and without impatience. Rainer Maria Rilke I think that if there is any signature poem in reference to a parent for me, it is this one. He passed through now, but his poem still lives with us today. What a beautiful man he is still. Digging Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests; snug as a gun. Under my window, a clean rasping sound When the spade sinks into gravelly ground: My father, digging. I look down. Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds Bends low, comes up twenty years away Stooping in rhythm through potato drills Where he was digging. The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft Against the inside knee was severed firmly. He rooted out tall stops, buried the bright edge deep To scatter new potatoes that we picked, ;loving their cool hardness in our hands. By god the old man could handle a spade. Just like his old man. My grandfather cut more turf in a day Than any other man on Toner’s bog. Once I carried him milk in a bottle Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up to drink it, then fell to right away Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods Over his shoulder, going down and down For the good turf, Digging. The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge Through living roots awaken in my head. But I’ve got no spade to follow men like them. Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests. I’ll dig with it. By Seamus Heaney This poem of George Herbert’s I came across through the agency of me olde mate Seamus Heaney, still brings a tear to my eye. IT talks about the constriction and the debt in many ways and the loadings that one has placed upon one ad the fight and the pull against this and how one wants to fight against it as well. And then, in the send, after all that spluttering and ranting and crying and gesticulating and cursing, one almost falls apart through not grief but exhaustion, and says okay then as the fighting served one purpose, but also reflected and demonstrated the fact that one cannot always fight ones own nature, and we are the other are actually one; not separate as the text set out to be. So…let me die of poetry, as I could not think of being in any other presence as this. For in truth, poetry has that ability to reach into the recesses that nothing else can, and also has the ability to extract the recess, and show it to the light of day, whilst also allowing it to turn back in, without completely destroying it. It’s about a sacred trust more than anything else. The Collar I Struck the board, and cry’d, No more. I will abroad. What? shall I ever sigh and pine? My lines and life are free; free as the rode, Loose as the winde, as large as store. Shall I be still in suit? Have I no harvest but a thorn To let me bloud, and not restore What I have lost with cordiall fruit? Sure there was wine Before my sighs did drie it: there was corn Before my tears did drown it. Is the yeare onely lost to me? Have I no bayes to crown it? No flowers, no garlands gay? all blasted? All wasted? Not so, my heart: but there is fruit, And thou hast hands. Recover all thy sigh-blown age On double pleasures: leave thy cold dispute Of what is fit, and not. Forsake thy cage, Thy rope of sands,1 Which pettie thoughts have made, and made to theeGood cable, to enforce and draw, And be thy law, While thou didst wink and wouldst not see. Away; take heed: I will abroad.Call in thy deaths head there: tie up thy fears. He that forbears To suit and serve his need, Deserves his load. But as I rav’d and grew more fierce and wilde At every word, Me thoughts I heard one calling, Childe: And I reply’d, My Lord. By George Herbert I have come back to this material time and time again. It is the same drawing that I did when we were coming back to the Alice from the Top End where we had been for a year, and even though so much of it was unconscious at the time, and having had said that, I am also aware that the material is also still very much alive and pregnant in terms of possibilities. In some ways,the material was actually prophetic, in that I saw what was coming an=head of us both and me in particular. the very fact that the beloved was seen as searching for the perfect boab, and then the realisation that the beloved actually sits with you, and then the further epiphany that the beloved actually resides within you yourself, as where else can it be? The image below is one that I did looking at tree, earth and sun, and the relationship between these three elements. Charcoal is such a fine instrument for expression, and so easy to express line with. The image below is actually quite typical of the Centre. A straight bough looks to all intents and purposes, straight. That seems simple enough as an equation does it not? Well, it aint as simple as that at all. The light plays tricks with us as it dances on its daily sojourn through the skies. Herein we see a figure dancing, or even a spirit perhaps, as it dances against its mother image, and even as the tree remains constant and stoic, the shadow is free to dance. Two movies that I made on a trip a trip back from Darwin 4 years ago, illustrate where I was in my head. One of following the face of the light and shadow on the bulbous face of a young boab. I would call these ‘On the Road’ movies, as that is exactly what they are. On the road movies indeed. I think that these records are actually really amazing, as they trap something that the single image cannot possibly do. And the other was the frog car that I had painted especially for this trip to Darwin. This old faithful has only recently bit the dust, but what a beauty it was. It served us very well indeed. And this old steed was just so trusty. It certainly served me well. I love this image, as it evokes so much for me. I will spend some time later on on another page talking about this particular set of images taken in Darwin at the Nightcliff Rocks of all places. The image works for me due to the shadows dance on the water, as far from hiding or projecting anything, it actually illuminates, and it was this contradiction that for me was so exciting. It was the unexpected. The image below is of me talking about my blackboard and the video that accompanies it, shot in B/W tells us also something about what I am trying to do. These two B/W entries are excepts from my last board drawing that depicted the Green Knight story. I have deliberately made them into B/W images, as I feel that this gives even more focus onto the imagery. WE see Gawain if you like, like the Burghers of Calais, knowing their fate, yet going through with it, as that is their lot and duty. I saw the Burghers in Paris at the Rodin Art gallery, and feel that they have stayed with me all this time. Having has said this, stoic though the figures are, they are quite prepared to face their fate. They know. There is a tremendous courage in this. What I am especially enjoying about this on the morning of the 5th of October 2013, is that the diary or predominantly visual blog, is taking on a degree of momentum and coherence. I happen to be focussing on trees at the moment, but then again, this can so easily change as we all know, depending on the focus. I have decided to make this visual blog, as it will also give me a degree of introspection as to what concerns me as time goes on allowing a degree of reflection along the way. I am also reminded on Cavafy’s Ithaca here Ithaca When you set out on your journey to Ithaca, pray that the road is long, full of adventure, full of knowledge. The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops, the angry Poseidon — do not fear them: You will never find such as these on your path, if your thoughts remain lofty, if a fine emotion touches your spirit and your body. The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops, the fierce Poseidon you will never encounter, if you do not carry them within your soul, if your soul does not set them up before you. Pray that the road is long. That the summer mornings are many, when, with such pleasure, with such joy you will enter ports seen for the first time; stop at Phoenician markets, and purchase fine merchandise, mother-of-pearl and coral, amber and ebony, and sensual perfumes of all kinds, as many sensual perfumes as you can; visit many Egyptian cities, to learn and learn from scholars. Always keep Ithaca in your mind. To arrive there is your ultimate goal. But do not hurry the voyage at all. It is better to let it last for many years; and to anchor at the island when you are old, rich with all you have gained on the way, not expecting that Ithaca will offer you riches. Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage. Without her you would have never set out on the road. She has nothing more to give you. And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you. Wise as you have become, with so much experience, you must already have understood what Ithacas mean. Constantine P. Cavafy (1911) I love what this man says and I have always loved his poetry. In fact, I would love to go to Alexandria being infused with the Alexandria Quartet since my teens and poems like these were written there too. Speaking of that town, I understand its old glories for the West have gone, but for me, it is the library that would take me back there, which gives it another layer of meaning of course. And here I was, out with my old mate Dave, at Jesse Gap 15 kms out of the Alice, and I was conversing with a couple of old mates. These two trees are quite astounding as the jury is out as to whether they are offshoots of the self same tree itself, but it is their distinct personalities that actually stand out and separate them. I have just added these two images to this blog, and there is the feeling that they add something extra and very sensual to the page. The analogy with pole dancing really is suggested here and full blown sensuality. Love it! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I1nKVExbewM https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=SCjQC_Bwwdw#t=1751 The above video is absolutely beautiful music and music for the journey no less.I hope that you enjoy it as much as I do. The picture above was taken three years ago when the Alice was in the middle of a huge wet time. It seemed to be perpetually raining, which gave the local environment a totally new flavour and articulation. All of a sudden, wildflowers and grasses sprung up, as did any variety of bush and shrub and of course flower, along with a plethora of bird and animal life reflecting the cornucopia that has been unleashed. But what got me, more than anything else, was the water and relationship of anything on this most ephemeral canvas. Shadows literally danced their way making the most amazing wipes and fleeting stamps of gesture and touch. I started looking at the effects my own shadow also made upon the water, but this will be referred to in another page in this blog that I shall name ‘Water dance.’ And this apparition just happened to jump onto the back of an old spinifex, just as I happened to be going past it funny enough. The old prick stuck to me, and perhaps was an apt metaphor for a state of mind at the time. —————————- Couple of shots that are so poignant really. Taken of a mate and his dog, at the beautifully austere clay pans, when the water was floating. as was the shadow. Strange how these things take a while to filtrate through. The image is almost 10 years old, and yet, seems like i can access it like yesterday. The Celt in me was very prominent then, having come back from a sojourn in Europe for a year. I love this image, and it has remained with me for over 7 years now, as a sentinel to alertness and staying awake. Only in Australia, and perhaps America, does the car have such iconic status, but with me, the car is more than just the vehicle, it is the spiritual transfer of essence. I was seeking the beloved in my favourite part of the country; the Kimberly; and believe me, it is something that I have always enjoyed going to. Its isolation and allure because of that, its beautiful colours and magnificent Boabs that are quite literally out of this world. Here I am as an old frog with one hand on the wheel and one eye on the prize… Greetings, Thought I’d put myself up there for all of you to see, that there is indeed plenty of truth in the old adage that a lined face is a worn face, is a lived in face, and a record of many travels. I think this face certainly fits that bill. Hope you enjoy what this site has to offer, and that much of the material, if not all, has added to the lines you see on this face of mine, and by the time you have seen it all, there will be even more lines on my face. Shalom. Taking a lot of lines for a walk Welcome to my work in progress which charts many aspects of my interests and engagements. The journeyman who accompanies me is ‘Frog’ who has proved to be a constant companion and a faithful one too. Most if not all of you will have resonance with this archetype, as ddid most cultures historically and now contemporaneously,whether this be as a harbinger of good fortune, a psychopomp, or a herald. In any of the above and many more cases, Frog has proved itself a vibrant metaphor and a visual treat for all of us. And added to the above of course, I throw in the below articles as extras… Related articles Again and Again : Rainer Maria Rilke (blogofreflections.wordpress.com) quote du jour ~rilke – we have no reason… (pathwriter.wordpress.com) Solitude – Rainer Maria Rilke (payingattentiontothesky.com)