HIGH UP IN THE TREES

Thank you, friends. This is for you.

Here for you all, a favourite song of mine at this time of year Happy Christmas, Happy New Year as sung by Mabel Mafuya in '58.

>>> See HAPPY CHRISTMAS, HAPPY NEW YEAR (through quicktime) <<<

(Can't see it or download it, please sing out. I am new to the world of iMovie tinkering.)

Good cheer to all!

Dear you,

Wishing you a succession of joyous days this Christmas. May 2009 bring with it all the brightness and brilliance it can possibly muster.

As always, thank you for your friendship and interest in a little of what I do.

With hugs and much love,
g xo

(That’s me under the tree in the year 1977.)

Gourmets will want to savor our specialties.

{Blackberry, loganberry, blueberry, strawberry, red currant, raspberry... I've yet to meet a berry I don't care for.}

Reading and flagging images to scan from a book on national dress and ethnic clothing, I long for such an outfit; a Uzbek vest in white, black, green, red, yellow and blue; a Syrian dress embellished with pomegranates, geometric shapes and palm fronds; a banded Seminole skirt. Dressed as I am, in decidedly comfortable fashion, I spent most of my day berry picking in the hills. I have returned somewhat crumpled, with red stained fingers and an overwhelming feeling of elation and contentment. I am not wearing an embroidered tunic nor buttons worn as talismanic device, I am wearing old loose denims that now sport juicy patches from blackberry, raspberry and cherry. And I have a kitchen bench laden with fresh produce. Punnets of berries, bright red cherries, a bundle of rhubarb and a few rogue zucchini, two pineapples, broccoli green and fresh, a bag of shallots and a bag of lemons; I may not be ready for Christmas but the kitchen tells otherwise. Our festive feast is beginning to take a pleasing shape.

I shall savour those berries raw and without the aid of spoon, and closer to Christmas Day some shall tumble into a tart, and others fall into a makeshift cobbler.

Now to the sourcing and scanning I shall return. I have books on ancient artefacts from the world over and leafing through them, on hunt for treasure, is a curious and exciting part of the process of making. It is a quiet task to do this chaotic side of Christmas, and one that feels sure to see in the festive spirit on a high feeling of well-being. I’m done with all this racing to and fro, hither and thither.

Wishing you well this Friday. Eat up and make merry, friends.


{A fruitful morning for one. (detail)}


{You turn left, I turn left. (detail)}

(Two collages found as I delved into the archives. They are from A trapdoor in every room, a two-person exhibition with Louise last May at Imp. So long ago. In one you can see a dalgite and in the other a fat-tailed dunnart.)

Typically with the corners of the mouth turned up.

Recently caught, bagged and tagged by Natsumi, here are six things that elicit a smile. Assembled for you here in no particular order, they are, simply put, the first six things that sprang to mind this grey Thursday midmorning.




{Shades of His Master's Voice.}

Knowing that Stella, my Mum’s cat, is on the mend. Since these photos were taken the plastic collar has been removed. The frown remains.




{Look up and see for yourself.}

Clouds viewed from my back garden at sunset, all pink and dreamy, they could well be on the run, escaped from some Joseph Turner or Claude Lorrain painting.




{Rodents balance. A badger watches.}

A lucky sighting. Rats in a ball and a Badger caught unawares, two Japanese netsuke seen at the NGV (The cricket and the dragon: Animals in Asian Art).

Rats
Edo period (1770-1820)
Japan
Ivory
3.7 x 4.7 x 4.5 cm

Badger
(19th century – early 20th century)
Japan
wood
3.7 x 3.4 x 2.4 cm

Spending time with my dear ones.

Spending time with animals.

Spending time alone.

All of these things make me smile. Any you?

(Thanks, Natsumi... xo)

(You are most welcome, Alexandra. Thank you for the beauty and inspiration sent and received... xo)

The onset of night.

I think perhaps this collection of images need little by way of explanation. They look to me like a world suspended in the most perfect dream state, a place I am certain I visited last night in my sleep.

How about you? Where did you travel to last night?



















Good night.

Good morning.

Spinning in small circles.

{Congratulations G & A… I wish you only days full of brightness and years of happiness, side by side.}

The weekend has spun me around and left me with a sore head. The weekend has been one of festivities and a little work. A weekend to celebrate a dear friend’s wedding to her beloved, and to see familiar faces from halcyon days; to be blown by the wind and land in the midst of a former neighbour’s Christmas gathering; to work on a commission; and marvel at time flying.

Peonies, calia lilies, sweet peas, berries still green and blue hyacinths for constancy now fill the house, and I am getting ready for 2009 in a roundabout fashion. I have a souvenir journal ready and waiting thanks to the clever folk at o-check design graphics.




{Sweet peas for blissful pleasure.}

{Awaiting all those giddy new things.}

Enjoy this balmy eve.

+ Care to search for good things on the horizon?

Upside-down at best.

{Looking from one end of the long hallway.}

Yesterday, all day long I thought of deleting my flickr account for no reason in particular. This Friday morning as the sunbeams flick about the room, I am not so sure I shall.

Do you ever think such impulsive thoughts and act upon them, making a rash decision to remove whole branches from one tree?

Wanting to delete my entire profile may well stem from feeling spread too thin. Maybe it is because I can’t doctor the page layout as I would like. Maybe it has just been too long in the one space. Or maybe it is just another thing to keep going, keep up with. Maybe such thoughts are telling me I actually need to invest in other projects. I am not sure. I may still click ‘delete profile’. Then again I may not.

One space I have yet to grow tired of is this space. With name pulled from a line of text featured in a book of postcard collages by Rebecca Horn (All These Black Days — Between), this space still proves a comfortable and somewhat orderly space to deposit my thoughts and hopes, my comings and goings, alongside a sprinkling of visuals from both desktop and day.

Thank you, all of you, for taking the time to pass by here.








{Night time photos, all golden and confused. Hello Olive! Hello Omar!}

The Moon is the only celestial body to which humans have travelled and upon which humans have landed.

Last night and tonight, the Moon made a face seeing through eyes of Jupiter and Venus. It smiled and I caught it, and I smiled right back.

Did you catch sight of it and throw a lasso around it?


{With Venus by my side.}


{Almost caught it, almost.}


{That ought to help somewhat with propulsion.}


{Yes, now I see what you mean.}

+ Maria and Lena of lines & shapes have a merry little shop open for you where you will find bundles of books, leather bookmarks and other surprises. If you can't see a moon smiling above you, this ought to remedy the smile component. To be invited to be a part of volume three earlier in the year was such an honour... thanks again, Mav and Lena, for taking an interest in a little of what Louise and I do.

Nearing one, off to bed I go. Shall have to moon gaze with my eyes shut

A swan song on paper.

{Up she goes.}

Come the end of the year Imp will be closing its doors as a gallery space after two and a half chiefly charm-filled years. Before doing so there is time for one final fling before curtain call, one group exhibition The Last Hurrah!, one last yippee before the caravan rolls in the direction of new things.

Louise and I have two collaborative works in the show, and one work each made without assistance from the other save for idea. My Mum also has a drawing in the show. Her New Orleans sock monkeys, Heathcliff and Cathy, hang alongside three bears full of racy and lusty thoughts.

Welcomed to help join Jurate, Brita and Emily with the install, lj and I happily accepted. With small wooden spirit level, a ball of string, a few nails to hold good a string line and a handful of silver pins the show was hung. A hot and windy day, the late afternoon offered the thrill of hailstones, large hailstones falling with the downpour. We closed the windows that had previously been flung wide and watched those little white stones as they ricocheted off every surface and landed with a thud on the rooftops of the cars parked below.


{Heathcliff and Cathy plan disturbance. Pencil drawing by Elaine Haby, my Mum.}




{A little arsenic, graphite and chalcopyrite grow from my armpits if I don't move too often. A pen, pencil and collage work by me.}


{Reflecting something entirely other. Louise's version which hangs above it, all luminous and soft.}


{Hoping not to collide AND Vessel additions. Two collaborative pieces by us.}

The Last Hurrah!
a group exhibition of drawings and works on paper

Imp
29th November - 21st December, 2008

All works are $150.

As is my way, I neglected to take any photos of the opening festivities. You’ll need to use your imagination for that one. You will, however, find additional tiny views elsewhere.

+ Fanja has a shop update this Monday for those of you looking for a little beauty to start your December.

+ Our sale for Little Wolves is still on.