thinking out loud

Hi internet, how are you today?

by frogpondsrock on June 4, 2011

I am a bit grumpy, not overly so, but enough to make me stomp about the house muttering to myself, whilst absent mindedly chain eating tim tams.

I like to speak my mind on issues that matter to me, I prefer to be proactive and I have zero tolerance for bullshit or time wasters.

I am a deep thinker and I will often spend days thinking about a problem, or in the case of my recent research project, weeks.

One of my solutions to problems that bother me overmuch, is to write my thoughts out here on the blog and then see what you have to say about my words. Generally with your help I get things straight in my head and I can move on, formulate a plan and be happily proactive.

I feel better when I am doing.

I also like to know where I stand and most importantly I like other people to know where I stand.

In discussion about politics I wear my green heart on my sleeve, I lean towards the pagan and fundamentalists of any persuasion make me twitchy.

You would think that this sort of attitude would make my life simple.

But it seems that the world is full of people who just want to argue and threaten and shout down any opposition to their own narrow world view.

The worst aspect of an online life is that anonymous commenters can pop up going “rabble, rabble, rabble” and attempt to bully people into silence, by shouting about defamation.

Yesterday, my daughter Veronica published a post about criticism in the blogposphere . In her post she questions why bloggers are so afraid to disagree with other bloggers and in the writing of her piece, also questioned why she had felt unable to publicly talk about the bloggers manifesto being eerily similar to a piece of her own writing.

Veronica did not accuse the authors of the bloggers manifesto of plagiarism, Veronica simply stated how she felt.

I’ve found myself purposely staying silent over issues simply because I didn’t want to rock the boat. And maybe that’s fine, but not rocking the boat can be a bad thing too.

Why shouldn’t I say that I’m unhappy about the Bloggers Manifesto because it sounds scarily like a post of mine on Ethics and Integrity I wrote before the Aussie Bloggers Conference? What scares me so much about disagreeing, that I would purposely stay silent, for fear of the waves?

When the comments were getting a bit heated and one of the most prolific of all authors, “anonymous” waded into the fray. I allowed my daughter to remove part of one of my comments, not because I was concerned about defamation, but because I couldn’t be bothered arguing the point in the comments section of my daughters blog.

I can’t be bothered arguing the point here either.

I will simply state for the record that I think that the bloggers manifesto is the most simplistic piece of fluffy crap I have ever had the misfortune to read. It provides me with the unfortunate mental picture of a bunch of cheerleaders high fiving each other in an arena full of pink balloons and bunting, congratulating themselves that they are the chosen ones and they alone can tell the rest of us mortals how to behave.

This version of the bloggers manifesto worries me, in the same way the simplistic, populist policies of Tony Abbott worry me. We are dumbing down as a nation and the shouters are starting to win. I would like to have read the original document which by all accounts was well written and had a bit of substance to it.

This is my opinion. I am not casting aspersions on those of you who signed it. I am simply saying what I think.

I would also like to remind that lovely author, Anonymous, that this is the internet and that most of the population think that people who write blogs on the internet are a little bit unhinged. Your opinions do not carry any weight on this blog, as most of the populace do not care what you or I have to say.

Also if in doubt about my intentions regarding anonymous and or trollish comments I will direct you to my comments policy.

Please read this carefully.

Regards Kim

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I have no idea what I am doing.

by frogpondsrock on May 31, 2011

in ceramics,plastic pollution,real life,thinking out loud

Luckily I am very good at making stuff up as I go along, otherwise I would be totally buggered.

Life is hectic here at the “frog ponds rock” household. I have been a woman of many hats lately.

The artists co-op Off Centre has moved premises from upstairs in the Salamanca Arts Centre to a smaller shop downstairs in a better retail location. The move has been stressful, as any move is, and there have been endless meetings discussing new signage and the layout of the new retail premises.The only small negative associated with the move downstairs was the loss of Off Centre’s gallery space. To offset this loss we have decided to create a Micro Gallery in the smaller of our shop front windows and I am very excited about the possibilities of this new space. I will be painting some small plinths a charcoal colour today to help define the gallery space from the shop space.

I am sure that you gathered from the zillions of photos of fire that I have been posting this week that my Slow Combustion Stove is up and running. Well not actually running as it doesnt have legs but you get my drift.

I had been concerned that the installation of the stove would be too little too late as I had lost my passion for cooking. With the heart of the household finally restored I am pleased to announce that I am cooking again. The only difficulty has been trying to find my assorted tools of the trade as they have been in storage, or given away, for example I cooked lasagne last night in my large cake tin as I couldn’t find my lasagne pan. I see some custom made ceramics in my near future as I don’t like using the wrong pans.

This is the last week of term and the last week of my drawing class, there will be more about the profound effect learning to draw has had on me later. Next term I will be studying introduction to sculpture as well as attending a night class where I learn video editing. The video editing has come in the nick of time as I have two film projects about to happen. The first project involves my friend Dr Jenn Lavers, next week I will be filming the dissection of a number of Short Tailed Shearwater’s that Jenn confidently predicts will be full of plastic pollution. It is very distressing to think that birds here in Tasmania are ingesting the same amount of plastic as the birds on Midway Atoll.

The second project is still in an embryonic stage of pre-planning, so more about that later.

I have also had a meeting with some educators who work with high school age kids that for any number of reasons are unable to attend school and they are quite keen to have me on board. Doing what, we don’t know yet, but I am sure I will be able to make something up as I go along as I am passionate about the role art plays in giving people a voice.

The local primary school has asked my branch of Tas Regional Arts if there are any artists willing to help the students create art for an end of year exhibition and sale. So it looks like I might be playing in the mud with some primary school children very soon. Speaking of playing in the mud, I am also working on an application to work with some pre-school age children in the far south of the state and that will be a wonderful adventure.

So life is busy and I am about a week behind on my emails. I should go up to the studio and start painting these plinths but I think I might make a fruit cake instead, or maybe a loaf of bread, hmmm scones anyone?

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When the stones whisper their secrets to you.

by frogpondsrock on May 12, 2011

in Grief,headfuck,Sadness,thinking out loud

Your friends either suggest lithium or nod their heads and smile.

This is The Mountain that is the backdrop to the city of Hobart. I grew up under the shadow of The Mountain and one of the hardest things about moving inland was not being able to see the changing moods of The Mountain every day.

I haven’t been up the mountain by myself for a long time. As a young teenager I used to ride my horse all over the mountain, from Lenah Valley to Fern tree and back again. As an older teenager we used to drive up the mountain and light cooking fires with the wood provided in the huts. We would drink cheap wine and try to count the lights of the city below, before turning our attentions to more serious teenage concerns.

I have been feeling restless lately with a wistful yearning in my soul for something. The practical side of my nature ignores the fanciful and mockingly whispers that a midlife crisis isn’t a good look. Whilst a small part of me feels like crying out, “Can you see me? Can you tell me that I am not invisible?” I push the thought of any sort of crisis away and ponder instead what it means to be 45 and overweight in a society that worships at the altar of anorexic youth.

I am teetering here on the precipice of my next great adventure and as I spread my wings ready to leap, I am filled with an unbearable sadness that my mother isn’t here to help me on my way.

Mum would tell me that it is normal to feel like this at 45. That it is normal to have quiet moments where you feel old and ugly, withered and useless. That the drumming I hear in my ears is my biological clock banging away erratically and that I need to get my shit together and just ride it out and to remember that I am only invisible if I choose to be.

My grief has settled into a cycle, in tune with my own lunar cycle. The grumpy irritability of PMS has been mostly replaced by a week of tears and longing and introspection,which is annoying as I would much rather slam a door in anger and be done with the shitty mood, than reach for a box of tissues and cry like a child for my mother.

On a whim I drove up the mountain and had a good talk with the stones. I let their ancient energy wash over me and I opened my mind to who I am and what I do.

The stones told me that it is okay to feel old as long as I don’t act old. To remember who I am and where I come from and to not lose sight of where I am going. To remember the ley lines and to feel the power of the earth through my bare toes. I think that is half the problem, I have been wearing shoes for too much of this year and I am losing touch with that energy that only comes from walking barefoot in the garden.

I bought a small stone down from the mountain with me and I think it will make nice marks in the clay. I met a twitter friend the other day who gave me some bones to use as tools, in return I am going to make her a ceramic altar to hold her offerings from the sea.

This feels good.

When I just do what I am supposed to do without thinking too deeply, when I let the clay guide me and I rest in that sweet spot, that silent intuitive space, the work just flows and I feel complete.

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So long and thanks for all the germs.

by frogpondsrock on May 4, 2011

in ceramics,Hope,Joy,thinking out loud

Last weekend I spent an amazing four days in Deloraine attending Woodfire Tas 2011. I met artists from all over Australia and overseas and my head is full of ideas. Someone also very kindly gave me a cold that has decided to settle in my chest so apologies in advance if this post is a bit rambly, as it is hard to keep a train of thought happening when I have to stop and reach for the tissues every five minutes.

I am trying to reflect on what I got out of the conference and to put it simply I received confirmation that I am on the right track. When I meet new people I am often a bit flippant and will fall back on terse one liners which often do not accurately represent me at all. By chance I was having lunch with one of the presenters at the conference and in passing I said I was too lazy to be a woodfirer, as the conversation progressed she commented that lazy wasn’t a word she would use to describe me and that I must stop using it.

I thought about her words for a bit and decided that she was right. I really need to banish those whispering ghosts once and for all.

My work is all about economy, economy of effort, economy of resource and most importantly, economy of time.

I have a strong sense of place here in the Tasmanian hills. I am influenced by my landscape, by drought, by early frosts, by the cold and by the heat. I need my work to reflect that sense of place.

When I am digging local clays to use in glazes I need these glazes to reflect where I am. There is no point using a clay gathered from a coastal region if I am trying to illustrate the tensions of living inland. Though it could be argued that Tasmania is so small that nowhere inland is far from the coast but that is a topic for another day.

Economy of time is of critical importance as often the ideas are fleeting and I need to make the piece all in one go. Grab the clay, make the pot, decorate the pot, put it aside and move on to the next piece.

Demonstrations and talks by Steve Williams and Graeme Wilkie helped to reinforce the ideas that had been swirling around in my head. Graeme Wilkie makes wonderful large work and he talked about working intuitively and finding the quiet space within yourself that allows the clay to direct the work.

Steve Williams says that, “To come back to a form when it has firmed and rekindle a relationship to turn and decorate is for me an ‘alien’ process”

I don’t like to come back to the work either and that is one of the reasons I have been thinking about the raw firing process, so that I only have to mess about with the pots once.

This is some of the beautiful work that was in one of the exhibitions, curated by Ben Richardson.

To finish here is another photo, I took when I was on top of Mount Wellington. I cant see the mountain from my home here in the Southern Midlands and I fretted for a long time. Even though I can see her when I drive down the hill, it isn’t the same as looking out of your window and watching her change through out the course of the day.

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Talking on the radio

by frogpondsrock on February 16, 2011

in Family,Fun,potential insanity,real life,thinking out loud,Veronica

I have that line stuck in my head now but I cant remember the song it is from. Old age, people, old age.

Anyway the point of this post is to tell you that I will be talking on the radio this Friday morning. My daughter Veronica rang me yesterday to let me know that we will both be talking to ABC local radio presenter Ryk Goddard about our experiences as Mothers.

I think the point of the interview is to compare the differences with two generations of Mothers.

There aren’t the glaring differences with Veronica and my experiences of motherhood as there was between My mother and myself. Things had changed radically from the 60s style of motherhood to the 80s version of motherhood but not much has changed really from the 80s to now.

I think you could say that with a lot of aspects of womanhood as well. There was the great fight for womens rights in the 60s and 70s but by the time I was a grown woman in the mid eighties I took all my freedoms for granted and I was spoiled for choice. I had easy access to birth control, I could go to any university I wanted to, I had plenty of job offers on the table and I was about to start a horticultural apprenticeship, when I chucked it all in to become a stay at home mum.

Once I held my new baby in my arms I chose to be a stay at home mum and choosing to be that stay at home mum was a lot more difficult than I expected it to be.

Financially it was a nightmare. The Spouse was a deckhand at the time, a third generation fisherman and it was always feast or famine living with a fisherman.

He was at sea when Veronica was born and managed to get home to meet his daughter when she was three days old. He had gone back to sea again before we had even left the hospital to go home on day five.

When Veronica was twelve months old our rental house was sold and we moved away from the city to live closer to the block of land my Mum had given me. We ended up living in a converted bus in Mum’s back yard for eighteen months, luckily it was a very big backyard or Mum and I would have driven each other crazy.

I remember having an epiphany one day down at the wharf, holding my small daughter in my arms and us both waving to The Spouse as he sailed away. The feeling I got as I watched these small men in this small boat venture out onto this huge grey ocean was one of impending doom. Veronica and I waved until we couldn’t see that tiny speck anymore and then we did what countless generations of fishermens families had done before ue, we went home to wait.

I made The Spouse chuck his job in when he returned home. I argued passionately that the money wasn’t worth it for the risks he was taking and that he needed to stay on dry land or else. The Spouse wasnt prepared to risk the “or else” and he stayed home with me. Within a month of “The Spouse stopping work we had moved the bus up to our own land, funny how living in your Mother in law’s backyard quickly loses its charm when you are actually there every day. It was a hard transition for a man with salt in his veins to make and one day I am going to make a large sculpture of Poseidon and have him here looking down the valley shaking his trident angrily at the circumstances that left the sea god marooned so far inland.

The skipper hit a rock, off South Cape on the next trip with a green crew and they were unable to save the boat. The crew were fine but it proved my point and The Spouse has never returned to the sea.

So here I am sitting at the computer twenty odd years later reminiscing and trying to work out what on earth I am going to talk about on the radio. I did things so differently from my peers. We eschewed the mortgage and the 9-5 lifestyle in favour of an alternative lifestyle where we built our house room by room out of recycled materials. This wasn’t done to fit in with some utopian dream of ours, it was down to simple necessity. I had chosen to be a full time mum and The Spouse found it very difficult to hold down a job that wasn’t at sea.

We were also young and full of beans and had all the time in the world.

I think that on Friday morning I will do what I normally do, I will just wing it, I will work it out as I go along, I will follow my daughter’s lead and I will hope like hell that I dont babble.

It will be just like everything else in my life.

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