high up in the trees

closed, open, all done.

{It's all about to come down. To be packed into many small boxes and taken to the car. Neatly wrapped in bubble-wrap, works on paper.}

As one door (albeit a trapdoor) closes and bolts the latch, a new door swings open… our exhibition at Imp gallery has been dismantled and my Mum’s show with Mary Gray, has been hung. It’s been one long weekends worth of unpinning and removing small bullet-head nails with pliers, puttying and sanding the many small holes left by afore mentioned nails, to the hanging of some 55 odd canvases, all of varying scale, in a gallery up several flights of narrow stairs.

{One last peek at the wall before the nails come out.}

Taken down at a little after five in the evening, to a soundtrack of country playing in the gallery office, it took barely an hour to remove all our collaborative drawings, Louise’s watercolours and my collages, from the wall. Two and a half days to set up, and it was all dismantled in record time. Dismantled and packed up in plastic sleeves and recycled cardboard boxes from Amazon and Louisiana Music Factory purchases. A quick putty and speedy sand and the walls were ready for a lick of paint.

(*** For those of you interested, I have just added one new artists proof, here. There is only one proof of this one available, separate from the All the discarded things, mended edition. Someone, please... my back is aching, features a certain beaver soothing or perhaps irritating (I’ll let you decide) a white rabbit. A rabbit with a sore back who scampered off with Maditi’s heart way back in January seeks a safe place to recuperate. ||SOLD||

I have also added New landscapes require new homes as well, eight editions for sale to blog chums near and far. Our four colour lithographic offset print of a polar bear seeking a new and suitable abode.

Thank you to all those who have purchased a proof to call their own, and to all those who responded to my “three free things” holler.***)

{A handy hand for you and me both.}

The last photos taken at Imp… fooling around in the gallery office, making a new face with a new set of eyes with Flatland & Flagship pieces. These two hands proved most helpful indeed for the checking of coffee stains in the crease of my mouth or biscuit crumbs gathered on the chin.

{Interior landscapes take shape under Milly's supervision.}

Swapping a pair of pliers for a hammer was a cinch for LJ & I. It has also left me short for words, and a little tired too. Together with my Dad, we helped Mary and my Mum set up their exhibition… with the un-help of an all white cat and a small, soft-furred, grey dog. Milly, the gallery cat, and the dog whose name I didn’t manage to catch upon introduction, happily sniffed, crawled behind and clambered over (though only once) the works arranged in formation on the floor. We’d clearly stepped into their large lounge room with a view… paintings and drawings on their floor provided them with new sniffs and kept them amused for the better part of the day.

Tomorrow I promise I'll take you to Castlemaine by way of a new powder blue car (though my tomorrow may be a little while in the making and the new car I allude to, isn't my own).

grand announcements and invitations extended.

{The moon above, and all was well.}

{It was fast turning into a competition.}

The curtains are drawn, the heater is on, and very little remains of my Tuesday, for night has fallen some time ago now. Before I welcome in Wednesday (over here), I have one or two things I’d like to share with you. One is a new project of a collaborative nature, one is an invitation, and the other is an announcement.

First things first, a new project is brewing and bubbling merrily away unsupervised in the least used room in our house - the kitchen. A zine, a collaborative zine, by Shari, Louise and myself is in the works. A zine all about the kitchen. A zine about cooking, or the lack thereof. A zine about food stuffs in the cupboards and condiments on the tray… of foods enjoyed in various cities and countries around the globe, of cheese on toast and the art of cooking with few ingredients. Still in its infancy, who knows what shape it will end up taking? Several things are certain, it’ll be all about food… food grown, food cooked and food savoured, it’ll be made by us three, and unless something goes spectacularly awry, it’ll be finished by the end of June. Expect mind maps, shopping lists, a handful of polaroids, watercolours, collages… and hopefully, expect to become very hungry along the way. Much like one of Shari’s delicious posts, expect to find your cupboards bare as you read about chocolate chip oatmeal cookies and the baking of small French bread loaves, wasabi peas… the mouth waters.

{Interior Landscapes... please, click to enlarge.}

And now, I also have an invitation to extend to you all. My Mum and Mary Gray have an exhibition coming up in a matter of days.

INTERIOR LANDSCAPES
Elaine Haby & Mary Gray

May 25th to June 7th, 2007

Brunswick Street Gallery
L2, 322 Brunswick Street, Fitzroy

Gallery hours Wed-Sun 12-4pm

On until the 7th of June, please, pop along.

{I return with important trinkets, one for each of you. Picked out by my dear friend, G, as part of a belated birthday treat.}

{It's too cold in China.}

And, finally… the winners I must announce.

Into a woollen beanie shaped like a strawberry complete with a little green stalk on top, LJ & I placed several numbered pieces. A number for everyone who commented, numbered one through twenty-five.

Here goes. Congratulations to…
2: Julie - Red Fox Return.
8: Brydie - I still don't trust them.
1: Amy (in Paris) - It produced what no other refractory in Beirut could.

Proving to be a fun exercise, LJ pulled out three more small numbered pieces from the woolly beanie.

Congratulations…
15: Comfies
3: Amisha
6: Briana

For you three, I have a small zine, Postcards from... If we stand very still, no one will notice. It’s a little B&W number, and it will be hurtling your way very soon.

So there you have it, my friends. Six papery pieces for six of you. I’ll be making a trip to the Post Office by the end of the week, just as soon as I have gathered all your addresses. I must do this again sometime soon.

{VI The door was open but we decided to stay. An artists proof on the table.}

(*** For those of you keen on acquiring a four colour lithographic offset artists proof with collaged elements (like the one above), I have a few remaining. Peruse the twelve different ones available here. I'd love to see them go to good homes. ***)

three free things for three someones

{All under control, a collaborative drawing by G & L, and sitting Imp on a Sunday.}

Songs from the 52nd Eurovision song contest are in my head… still, and they show no signs of moving on (much to my displeasure). Bosnia & Herzegovina, Slovenia, Georgia and Latvia too, I can still hear your songs in my head. How is it you’ve been able to find a comfortable roost in my memory, Lithuania, Greece and Romania? I have tried to move them on… lights out, last drinks… we’re closing now, but still they stay. I have tried gentle persuasion, tried to nudge them out of the way with Dylan’s Theme Time Radio Hour (from last year) songs about Mothers (for Mother’s day) and yet Randy Newman’s Mama Told Me Not To Come could not seem to push Sweden’s Eurovision entry out the door! JB Lanoir’s Mama Talk To Your Daughter has received “nil points” going up against a tune from Armenia. Nothing it seems will move these Eurovision tunes from my head (I guess that’s what you get for watching too many hours of it on the tv). J.U.F’s Super Rifle (Balkan Express Train Robbery), and a new compilation cd, Voodoo Blues - part I: Mojo Hands and Black Cat Bones & part II: Root Catcher Blues, and still I am plagued by the shadow of various tunes performed on stage in Helsinki. Memphis Minnie’s Hoodoo Lady from ’36 surely can weasel out Liubi, Liubi, I Love You… can’t it? Please, say it can. Goofer Dust Swing, why surely that can muscle out a little madness from Lithuania? Perhaps a talking book played today as I work on a new batch of journals will see the Eurovision songsters finally pack their feathers, sequins and wobbly props, and leave me in a little peace (until next year, that is)?

Aside from all this, I have a few new things to share with you today, for I have been lucky enough to receive from Carolyn of Idlewild Press, a book of beautiful postcards from Le Havre.

{Postcard splendour from C. Thanks, again ♥}

Twelve detachable, majestic views in total, including the Marie-Christine Casino (as seen above), the grand Boulevard, and of course, the Normandie which, as the postcard informed me, was capable of carrying 1971 passengers.

And from my real Fairy Godmother of flesh and bones, not some mere figment of the imagination, more postcards have been happily received, escorted by, is it a Holy man or reindeer? I cannot tell. Pete seems to be in a state of flux. Two books rounded out the generous offerings… Rex the Rectory Mouse by W & L Townsend and The Wolf and the 7 Goats, a children’s book oddly enough about seven goat kids who, upon hearing a knock at the door and a rough voice saying: “Open the door, my dear children. I have brought something nice for each of you.” are not fooled by the wicked wolf… at first.

{From my Fairy Godmother & Pete... thanks ♥}

Thank you so much C, F.G. and Pete, and indeed all my blog chums, those who comment and those who read. As a special treat, I have three artists’ proofs up for grabs. Free to three good homes. Simply leave a message in the comments section below or wing an email my way (if you are shy) to gracialouise{AT}optusnet.com.au, and I’ll announce the lucky three next post. There are no rules, no guidelines either, just leave a message and cross your fingers. How does that sound?

Up for grabs…
From If all the stars go out, I’ll follow my nose home, a full colour artists’ proof of Red Fox Return.
(Lithographic offset print with collage elements, 29.7cm x 21cm, on Aquarelle Arches 100% pure cotton hot pressed 300gsm paper.)

Plus… I still don't trust them.
(Lithographic offset print with collage elements, 29.7cm x 21cm, on Aquarelle Arches 100% pure cotton hot pressed 300gsm paper.)

And, It produced what no other refractory in Beirut could, from All the discarded things, mended.
(Lithographic offset print with collage elements, 21 x 29.7cm, on Aquarelle Arches 100% pure cotton hot pressed 300gsm paper.)

Enjoy your Wednesday… I’m off to put on my ipod, stereo and even my old Walkman if I have to… I have to evict some Eurovision contestants and I have neither black cat bones nor a mojo hand to help me.

With a trusty donkey by my side

{This ain't as easy as it seems.}

Yesterday morning I dreamt I was in Tunisia. I was riding on my own, in a cart pulled by a Tunisian donkey, across a wide sandy expanse. When the alarm clock (which runs ten minutes slower than it ought) did what all alarm clocks are required to do, and tried to wake me from my deep slumber, I knew not where the noise was coming from. Is that electric chime coming from a squeaky wheel on my cart? Perhaps it is loose and I need to fix it? Can my donkey make such a noise? Perhaps he is unwell? I sat and pondered, perplexed by this mysterious electrical noise in the sandy desert plains of Tunisia. Surrounded by prickly pear cactus in flower, with only my donkey for company, I’d been having a wonderful time.

It seemed to take me a fair while, in Tunisian dream time that is, to figure out that the noise was no special donkey cry nor faulty wheel on my wooden cart, but my alarm clock rudely intruding upon my adventures. It was sadly time to wake up. It would seem I would rather be travelling at the pace of the donkey drawn cart in my dreams. In my day to day, I feel it’s all going a little too fast. I’d rather take in the sights and smells of Tunisia with a flop eared mule for companionship but it seems I cannot do that today, nor tomorrow either.

(I also recall thinking in my dream something along the lines of… Oh, no! I forgot to tell my blog friends that I’d be away for three months with a donkey named Trusty.) Alas, I have no actual photos of me guiding my donkey past date palms, and I have no evidence of my visit to the desert village of Matmata, set in the mountains, either. In their place I can show you a few more details from A trapdoor... (mine evidently leads to Tunisia, and to a slow moving sequence of days), and a thirteen storey dacha too, one of several collaborative works by LJ & myself. This, here, is the first of many:

{My dacha is 13 storeys higher than yours. (detail)}

Please, click to enlarge, if it will help your peepers.
(Does it look a little familiar to you, Cally?)

{Find your place. A 22 page concertina artists' book.}

(Spy a few animal faces you've seen before, Risa? Seat warmers perhaps from an infamous tea party not so very long ago?)






{Further new things to be seen at Imp.}

If all the stars go out, I’ll follow my nose home and All the discarded things, mended, are two new artists' books housed in a slip case hand bound beautifully by Louise, and featuring (again) many familiar faces. Those sea otters and women with their red foxes have been bobbing up and down here for some time now.

And now, before I depart (for I am confident an afternoon nap will take me night back to the Sahara desert), here are a few weekend links to follow:
The Lives of Others (seen last night on the way home, sans donkey, and thoroughly loved. It is a marvellous film.)
Symphonies in nature for your indoor world
Search the collection at Moderna Museet (and brush up on your Swedish at the same time.)
Wouldn't this make for a wonderful mansion for a bank vole?
The landscape of the Iron Curtain

And especially for Shari, several of your postcards complete with embellishments:

{The Bank vole conquered her fear of heights in Roma.}


{A fine balancing act went unnoticed at the New York Zoological Gardens.}

{Not nearly as terrifying upon closer inspection.}

Now I really must away for there is also some blog reading to be done as well… it’s well overdue. I want to see what I’ve been missing whilst the electricity in our house seemed to be generated by a golden hamster in a plastic wheel… (all power is now fully restored; the computer can be on with more than a lamp thanks to a loose screw being tightened thrice. Broadband now operates as it should, and the house is once more illuminated. Yay!)

Imps are above the Greville St Bookstore

Ready to set up once more? That’s great! Then lets make a start. Mind your way through the bookshop below… full of many tempting reads it requires stern will to walk past as you head out the back door and prepare to climb the stairs to the door marked Imp.

We have our box of tricks at the ready; a pair of white gloves, a tape measure, a ball of string, scissors, several blades, an eraser and a white box of adhesive tabs, plenty of small nails and a hammer with which to hammer them, the odd pencil, a felt-tip pen, and a journal too. Nope, I don’t think we’ve missed anything… so, shall we make a start? It’s going to be a long day so much coffee shall be needed. Much coffee to keep the little cogs in the brain well oiled and in full working order.

Enough chit chat, shall we commence, friends?

One day down, another to follow…

Do you fancy making a map for the catalogue? Or perhaps helping Louise with her 52 thaumatropes?

All this, and we've yet to reach the perspex plinths and the other small walls. I'll save those for another posting, together with a closer peek at all, save two, of Shari's beautiful postcards. The Tempio di Castore e Polluce now features a bank vole balanced up high and those black bears have come into good fortune... the rest you'll have to pop back for in a few days time. Or perhaps you have already been able to detect them in the photos above?

Thanks for all your assistance, dear chums. Now, please, put your feet up, a well deserved rest is very much in order for you all.

♥