A final tour about the Château de la Malmaison.

Head over heels, as they say, seems an apt description for the way I feel in regard to all things Russian. I have completely over-romanticised every little thing pertaining to Russia and her arts and culture, her language and her landscape, and glossed over, as all lovers do, the parts less palatable. Last night when I should have been sleeping, I watched the Mariinsky Ballet Company perform Nutcracker. In a shoe, I travelled to the City of Sweets and saw the breathtaking dance of the Eastern Snake-charmers and the Dance of the Pulcinellas and become every inch intoxicated. Tonight, as I prepare to head off to see the Australian Ballet perform Petrouchka, Les Sylphides and a new interpretation of Firebird (as part of their Ballet Russes project) it seems unlikely my sugary illusions will be pricked.

Related in no way to this, save for a desire to tie up pesky loose ends given that the weekend beckons, I bring you the final installment of At the Château de la Malmaison tigers roam, now in the possession of the SLV.

It seems a veritable age, but here, just for you, the last few pages from my recent artists’ book.




{The leopard proved a natural where balance was concerned.}


{Slow and steady does it.}


{I keep them safe, the pair of them.}


{Looking for things others may have overlooked.}




{A Stella's sea lion seeks a little illumination.}


{They have taken flight already, it seems.}


{The beautiful back cover signals the end.}